Lisa Kanavkina could not say that she had no luck in life. That life, in fact, was only eighteen years old, but during that time quite a few important things happened.

First, Lisa was born. Secondly, she entered an elite school with an intensive English course. Thirdly, she finished with brilliance.

Both that, and the other, and the third happened before the time: Lisa jumped out of her mother in the ninth month, entered school at six, and finished it, respectively, at seventeen. She wanted to go to school so much that she punched a hole in her parents' heads, and her dad had to make up for it. She always and everywhere was in a hurry - both in conversation, especially when she was worried or carried away (and she did this almost always), and in life.

And now she hurried, and her fate went, well, completely different from the standard. Instead of an elite university (institute of international relations or business management), Lisa desired independence. She was always independent: her first word was “herself”, she also came to school herself, well, and on the eve of the majority she was simply a sin of not volunteering.

Lisa did not act anywhere, despite the very unpedagogical, as she believed, the pressure from the parents. She wanted to work. Moreover, she wanted to do this without in any way using the two bonuses accrued by her life: influential parents and what is called “model appearance”.

Lisa grew indecently beautiful. Actually, many and looked at her - indecent (and every time they were deceived when they got to know each other). If around Liza to imagine palm trees and orchids - Liza would ideally have gone for those whom they seduced, kissed and fucked in grandma's TV shows. She was poured Latin: always dark skin, big, well, really huge breasts (from the eighth grade), waist with a string, tasty brown eyes, tart, like olives, and attention, a bonus: curly, curly, fluffiest of fluffy shevelly which only grew in the universe and its surroundings.

It was not just a head of hair, it was a real dark chestnut mane to the middle of the back. Wherever Lisa appeared, it was simply impossible not to squint, and a third of the blame lay on her hair. What a sin to confess: Liza loved to let them loose - freely spread on an elastic back - and anyone who saw them could not find a place until she ran forward and found out whether Lizino’s face was worthy of her own hair. Therefore, Lisa was always overtaken by passersby, looking at her like a tsatzu.

She had a difficult relationship with her mane. She required daily care (combing alone took half an hour), and Lisa was not so much impatient, but there was a limit to everything! Sometimes she wanted to do something with her, but it was impossible: her parents prayed for her hair, and Lisa herself understood everything. Mane was her cross, which she stoically carried through life, trying to do it with dignity, as befits a real woman.

After finishing school, she spent six months in search of work. Lisa had no idea who she wanted to work for, but she knew for sure: she just needed to be independent. “Independent” meant - to earn a living, a separate apartment and (in the future) study. Lisa was determined to start from scratch, like everyone else. “We’ll assume that I’m a gray mouse and that my dad is a mechanic,” she told herself.

In fact, this was reflected in the fact that Liza worked for a month in one cafe, a month in another, but she still didn’t have enough for an apartment that was borrowed, and my dad had to pay extra from her own pocket. There was a big scandal, after which Lisa was not in the mood to surrender. “So I’ll just work harder,” she decided.

Dad, however, also decided something. While Liza was jumping from one job to another, he made sure that a third one jumped into her hands.

Lisa, of course, exposed him, but the combat fervor fell slightly, and, embarrassed to see, she agreed to go for an interview.

It was a school for children of foreign businessmen. Teaching there was in English, and Lisa had to improve their conversational Russian.

Strictly speaking, only graduates of the pedagogical institute were supposed to work in it, but Papa did not speak about this, and she did not ask. The Russian language was already there, and Liza had to train their speech three hours a day using a special advanced training method developed at the same school. They paid a lot, even by Liziny's standards, money, and she should have been more than enough for an apartment and a living.

Of course, she successfully passed the interview, conducted in English (even if Lisa didn’t know the language so well, she would still have passed it successfully), and they would take her.

She spent the night before going to work without sleep, trying a solid teacher's walk, a stern look and "sit down, children." As for her, it turned out quite nothing. The only thing that was annoying was that Lisa had excellent vision and could not wear glasses.

***

She was firmly convinced that she had to work with smart, big-eyed foreign children who flashed in films and online publics. The only thing that should distinguish them from local, local children, Lisa believed, is that they are better and smarter. (The whole school Liza studied with the conviction that she was in a moron class. Considering her character and abilities, it was like that somewhere).

Perhaps that is why she was so out of tune how everything turned out.

Or maybe it would knock out anyone.

Whatever it was - she was assigned the 12th grade. Schooling began at the age of 5, and her peers were completely in the classroom.

When Liza found out about this, the chill, which had been seated in the guts since the night, turned into a real frost.

But it was nothing compared to what was waiting for her behind the door of the class, to which she approached with her pale chin, though quite proudly raised ...

- wow! What tits!

- What is your size? Fourth, yes?

- Give touch!

- You have straight fucking hair!

- Is that a wig?

- And in what position do you like to fuck?

- Do you like BDSM?

“Hello, my dears. My name is Miss Lisa ... "She looked at her confusedly at the giggling faces and hands of all skin colors that stretched to her bust, ajar, maybe a little more than the teacher's bust ...

Tears, which she had not known since time immemorial, were ready to gush out of her, like a broken pipe. With an effort of will, she pushed them back, cracked her palm on the table, and screamed:

- Staaaaaaaapd !!! ..

Goggle stopped, but only for a moment. After a couple of seconds, a few hands pawed her from all sides at once ...

“You shouldn't have provoked them, honey,” said the head teacher, sobbing Lisa. - You are no longer a girl and you should understand that your outfit, ahem ... Put yourself in order and return to your workplace, and next time put on something more appropriate for your position.

“Ah ... but how ...” Lisa sobbed. Because of the flowed mascara, she looked like a panda.

She approached the class by clenching her fists.

“Soooo,” she screamed at once, before she could open the door. - One touch to me, and I sue for sexual harassment! At all I give, who paw me, at all !!! And your parents will have to pay big money !!!

The class was at first startled, and then neighing.

- Scared! ..

- So busty, and so angry! ..

“My parents will set you up,” the tall black man shouted, baring his pearly teeth. - They have so much money that you never dreamed of. Otherwise you would not go to work as a teacher!

“And mine ... and mine ...” Lisa gasped, barely having time to bite her tongue. (“What kind of an adult are you, if only you can, that hide behind daddy?! ...“) - And I have ... another opinion! Tiiiiho! You ... you are used to your corruption, and we have a democracy here! We all are equal before the law!

- Is this your democracy ?! Ahaha! - the black man was laughing, ...