Panteleimon Petrovich, an elderly but still strong man, leaning on the kitchen table, got up from the stool and, swaying slightly, went out into the corridor. He walked along the dilapidated walls, past the old rusty bicycle hanging on the wall, and opened the front door of the apartment.

On the landing he was already waiting. Near the elevators, he smoked a cigarette, stood a middle-aged, but also not an old man, with an imposing black beard and mustache twisted upwards.

- Well, Petrovich, ready? The man asked lazily, spitting on the dirty floor.

- Done, Nikolai Vladimirovich, as agreed - answered Panteleimon Petrovich, slightly bowing his head.

- Well, let's go - mustache threw a cigarette stub in the direction of the stub ...

“Well, you have srach here,” said the guest, looking around the poor decoration of the kitchen.

Fluttering yellowish wallpaper, on the dirty, crap-flies, ceiling traces of long-standing floods ... A crooked refrigerator, an ancient cupboard, a cracked glass in the window.
A table full of scraps from a recent meal, two empty bottles of vodka and ... a girl.

Girl.

A slender, short-haired brunette sat on a stool, her head and hands on the table. Thin, tall, kind of all angular, the girl, apparently, was sound asleep. There was a strong alcoholic spirit in the air.

- Well - Nikolai Vladimirovich twisted the mustache, - Take it and carry it.

Holding hands and legs for an insensible body, the men hid behind the kitchen door ...

* * *

Two hours earlier.

- Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday ... me! - Zhenya sang merrily, putting a dish with a salad on the kitchen table.

Eighteen years old is executed only once
Every one of us knows this.
Sing and laugh, dance and have fun,
Eighteen years old is executed only once ...

Laughing happily, the girl ran into her room, took out a tattered notebook from the desk drawer, sat down at the table, slightly chewed on a ballpoint pen and wrote down just written poems in her diary.

Many young girls of eighteen keep diaries.

Zhenya closed the notebook and, cheering, tousling her short black hair, rushed off to the kitchen.

While it is not, let's read, what is it?

“It has been five years since my mother passed away. Dad already almost does not drink ... "

“There is almost no work in our city, there is only a steel plant, which will close itself. I am soon finishing school, I have to think what to do next ... "

“Yesterday I entered the sewing technical school! A week later, I turn eighteen! Life is Beautiful... !"

“Today I met a guy. He is from a railroad college. It seems he liked me. And he to me. Highly... "...

A key squeaked in the front door lock.

- Docha, I'm at home! - Panteleimon Petrovich, holding shopping bags with unpretentious products in both hands, crossed the threshold of the apartment.

- Dad, hello! - Zhenka rushed to the neck of his father.

Thin, tall, almost a head taller than her parent, she literally raked the man in an armful.

- Once again, my daughter, happy birthday - a man, squeezed by girlish hands, put a string bag on the floor.

- Dad! Thank you! - Zhenya smacked her father in the cheek.

For some reason, Panteleimon Petrovich was embarrassed and looked away ...

- Yevgeny, I certainly do not insist, but drink vodka - the man poured the odorous liquid in two glasses, - I didn’t have enough money for wine ... Eighteen years, as you can ...

- Dad, Misha ... well, I told you ... - the girl muttered drunkenly fifteen minutes later, - I invited me to a date ...

“Yes, yes, I remember ...” the father answered absently, opening the second bottle ...

The girl's hands fell on the table, and her head also fell on them. Petrovich waited a little, nervously smoked a cigarette, leaning on the table, got up from the stool and, swaying slightly, went out into the corridor ...

* * *

On the same day.

- Hello, men - Panteleimon Petrovich, removing his helmet from his head, went into the factory smoking room.

- Healthy - growled grandfather Fedor, honored steel worker, lighting a cigarette.

- Why do such gloomy ones? Al who died? - Petrovich took off his gloves.

- Petrovich, they want to fire you, the order comes from the top - someone from the group of hard workers got out.

- Reduction - said the honored man, chewing his lips mouthpiece.

- How-so ... - Panteleimon Petrovich sank on the bench, - I have a daughter, I have to raise ...

- You won that, wait - grandfather Fedor sat down beside, - ... Nikolai Vladimirovich is coming, look! Talk to him, after all, the foreman ...

- ... how can you! What are you saying that ?! - the face of Panteleimon Petrovich was covered with red spots, - Yes, I am you now ...!

- Well, as you know - Nikolai Vladimirovich kicked a pebble, twirling his mustache, - Do as I want, the order may even get lost. You come to me after dinner, you say that he thought up ...

* * *

In the early morning of the same day.

When Panteleimon Petrovich, shaved and fresh, entered the kitchen early in the morning, Zhenya had just finished the last sandwich with sleeping tea. In his hands, the father held a small red box.

- Yevgesha, I wish you a happy birthday, I wish you all the best! - a little embarrassed, he said.

- Oh, dad, it's still too early - Zhenya got up from her chair, touching her hands touchingly on a tiny, not girlish flat chest.

- No, no! Five minutes as already born! - the man came closer and handed the girl a box, - This is for you.

“Oh, dad, thanks ...” she whispered her daughter, already guessing what was inside.

Opened - inside, on a satin velvet lay two golden earrings with colored pebbles. The girl had tears in her eyes. These were the first jewelry that she received in her life.

- Dad, it's so expensive ...

- Nonsense! Eighteen years is a date! Besides, I have a job - a man made an affirming gesture with his hand, “Break through!”

Eugene impetuously hugged father.

- Well, I went to work. I already had breakfast. In the evening we will sit for a while, I will buy something, and you set the table - Panteleimon Petrovich smacked his daughter in the cheek ...

When the front door closed behind her father, Zhenya went to the bathroom, for some reason taking with her earrings. She closed the door on the latch, with trembling fingers, pulled the curiosities out of the box, held it to her ears. Slightly twisted in front of the mirror, enjoying her reflection. Everything will be fine!

Having much admired myself, I put the earrings in a box and again critically looked at myself.

Pretty tall for a girl. Very much thin, even bony, unsightly or something. Zhenya touched her chest, covered with a dark T-shirt. The breasts are tiny, they do not reach the first number, even a breast-raising bra is not able to correct the situation.

Hips under blue shabby jeans are not at all like women’s hips. The legs are long, but very skinny, and the arms are the same.

Wanting to escape from sad thoughts, the girl decided to take a shower, soon to classes. Resolutely removed the shirt, bra. Breast ridiculously stretched papillae, framed by small dark haloes. Eugenia took her breasts in her palm, squeezed a little, massaged. It's sad.

Finger gently held on the nipple and on the rim. Papilla responded, hardened. Immediately I remembered Misha from the railway college. So attentive, gentle, courteous. How will their relationship in the future? Will he ever touch his buds with his lips?

Eugene undid the button jeans, screamed lightning. The palm penetrated the fabric of the panties, in the most intimate place. Passing through the exciting growth of young girlish pubic hairs, the index finger touched the innermost point.

Zhenya often continued to touch herself there, presenting the lips of her beloved person, which she had not yet had, instead of her fingers. But now was Michael. Somehow she wanted to ...