Damn, how pleasant it is to make sure that the boy sitting opposite is a hedgehog, wrapped in jeans and a leather jacket, big-eyed, thin-faced like a prince - that after all it is not a boy, but a girl. My joy will be understood only by a hardened womanizer, like me.

Her face and eyes, and plastic body. Damn, and she's a beauty. Here are no fools. A real gift of nature and ... and mind.

Call it what you want, but what glows in the eyes, in the face and in the whole person is what is called charm, charisma, zest and in other words, something without which there is no real beauty, but there is only prettyness - I I call it, forgive, mind, because that is the name of the main thing in man. It can manifest itself in anything, and it is not at all necessary - in the mind to which the stupid are accustomed to reduce the mind.

The girl was piercingly good. Such a face, such cheeks, such sponge-petals envy any model. Damn, damn, why did she cut her hair? Why do not this walled oval be edged with nut curls, why do they not shine in brown eyes, electric and agitated, like in a cat after a hunt?

She noticed that I was looking at her, and did not look away, as they do almost everything, and did not portray the Fatal Woman, as the others do, but she stared straight at me, holding her gaze. “Now the first will speak,” I thought. "She is not one of those who recognize barriers ..."

- What are you looking at me? She asked.

A booming, excited, quite girlish voice.

- To be honest?

Raises eyebrows. ("These were formerly called sable ...")

- Go ahead.

- For three reasons. More precisely, one reason that has as many as three aspects.

- That loaded! ... And what aspects?

- Aspect One: I tried for a long time to understand whether you are a girl or a boy. Aspect Two: you are beautiful, and beautiful people are created to be looked at and rejoiced. Aspect Three: I looked and was happy, but not completely. Joy clouded your hair.

She grimaced.

- What's wrong with them? Doesn't the end grow there? Dandruff a lot?

- No, it's not that. They are simply not there, understand? Why did you cut your hair?

- And what does not go?

- How to say to you...

- Speak like it is.

- Okay. But there will also be aspects. Are you ready? Aspect One: yes, it does not. Alas. You are too beautiful for such a little Bobby. Aspect Two: it is this discrepancy that attracts attention. Your beauty is a pity, like a broken birch. This pity stirs up animal instincts in a man, and gives you downright painful sexuality. Minus two in beauty - plus ten in sexuality. However, you yourself know all this.

Is silent. Pink, like a dog rose, although it is almost like an adult.

- This is your favorite word - "aspect"? So now I will call you: Uncle Aspect. Is going?

- To agree, I must find out your name.

“And you just gave me a name: Bobby.” Very nice!

“Mutually,” I stretch my hand, smiling at her mind. Oh, and she will ask the peasant to the peasants after three, or even earlier ...

She picturesquely shakes my hand with cold fingers like a frog:

- That met! Do you always climb straight like this, or only if you wake up animal instincts in you?

“Yes and no,” I say. - I have not been at that age when I want to wag. Too much behind. I want to be myself. And with you - especially.

- Why?

- Yes, you do understand. Next to beauty you always want to be cleaner and kinder.

- Ha ... I will not pretend that your flattery does not affect me. It still won't work ...

- Yes, yes, do not.

- ... But. But. "A small, and at the same time quite a big question." These animal instincts of yours will not hesitate to attack me for an hour?

- ho. This is a really small question. Do not think. And if they even think about it, then not earlier than in a year.

- Why is it such a head start?

- How many are you? Seventeen?

- Uh ... I would say that ninety-two, so I will not say the same.We agreed not to wag - it means not to wag. And you - years ... forty? Thirty eight? Thirty...

“Do not flatter me,” I say. - Not wagging means not wagging. Lets take a look for clarity.

- Shame on your age ashamed. I am now eighteen, and I feel thirty and more, and a long time ago, two years, or even three ... Listen, why am I telling you all this? I have not told anyone yet, even ...

“Probably because,” I say, “that I intrigued you.” Not wagging - after all, not everyone knows how.

- Not everyone, - she nods, - that's for sure ... Do not wag, say? Okay, let's not wag.

She took a breath, as if deciding on something, and continued an octave above:

- Probably, at your home is such a big, very big pile of money?

“Why is this,” I ask, “are you interested in the pile that lies in my house?”

“Just don't,” she shakes her bobbed head, “don't.” Do not pretend that you are. Of these.

- Of which such "these"?

- Those who, just that, begin to hide behind the rights and put everyone in a row into place. They themselves said - "not wag."

Here's a clever trash, I think. No, you really don’t need to do that.

- Your took, - I say. - Not that it is very big, but there is no heap that is true.

- Well, about what? Say ... a thousand bucks is a problem for you to spend?

“Wow,” I think.

- Looking at what. If something important and valuable - no, not a problem.

- And two?

- Well ... Where are you, there are two.

- And ten?

- Rates are rising, right? You understand that with such questions it is difficult to resist and not to put in place ...

- Of course. And you understand that I don’t even want to put me in a place with such questions ...

- Well, you and arrogant, Bobby!

- Not. I just do not wag. Because? Ten thousand bucks - a problem?

- Well, - I give up, - the question, of course, is not so hot, but ... if something is very, very important ... or very, very pleasant, I can spend it. Not too often, of course. Every few years, no more.

- I see. And tell me, Uncle Aspect ... Tell me ... say such a thing ...

It was difficult for her to pronounce it, it was very difficult, her ears were steaming right. But I waited, not pushing.

- And tell me ... could you put this money, say ... say, if someone would ask them for their virginity?

- Like you? - I grinned.

- Nnnuuuu ... for example, yes.

She quickly leaned back, staring defiantly at me. Her cheeks were no longer pink, but crimson, like Kherson tomatoes.

I could send her away. I could call her a mercantile juvenile idiot and get out of her life forever ... But I didn’t want to wag, so I told her:

- I could send you away. I could call you a mercantile juvenile cret and even stronger. Could get out forever ... but instead of doing all this, I sit and chat with you. And this is already bad, because it gives you an extra hope for which you have no reason. Why?

- What "Why"?

- You know, do not pretend. Why do you sell your virginity?

- You know, do not play it. Need money.

- What for?

- Nuuuuu ...

- No "well"! Wagging on a thought, comrade Bobik? I told you about a bunch?

- Nuuuuu ... Okay. Only you will not understand. Narrate?

- No, stupid questions to ask! Well?

- Well ... Well, I have a boyfriend. Disabled. He needs money for surgery. Some already have, not enough ten thousand. And now you say "could have made up something smarter." That's why I didn't want to talk.

“Why, then,” I said, just a moment ago I wanted to say just that. - If I couldn’t invent it, I couldn’t.

“Ha,” she chuckled. - The same thing, only with a peppercorn, in your spirit. You do not wag, but tell me: yes or no?

- Listen, ...