Zotov twitched. Natal Semenna could not know ...

“Ah ...” he began, and fell silent.

The wall behind Natal Semenoi was translucent. Behind her guessed the flickering chaos, similar to the nebula from the images of Google Space. And Natal Semenna herself slightly shone through.

“She's old too, come on.” Thirty years old with a harkoo gakom - this is not a yoshkin cat. Go, aunt already.

Zotov was silent.

- Do you want anyway? Well, I know, I know. I know all about you, my dear.

- Where I am?

- As where? Where he went.

- And ... Why are you here? Why is all this here? ..

- Oh, you! I suppose I wanted to poklatsat on the Main Computer right away? Do not be kidding. The way here is actually a mustache, you see nizyaya. Otherwise, Nick will not pump you out. You can not program from the Interface, and you will not jump out of it anywhere, you idiot, because you are your Interface. Your mind is what I mean. Here it was, and that was what was there, in understandable images. For your own good, so that it does not move out of the coils.

Zotov was silent.

“But nothing,” Natal Semenna suddenly took pity. Come we meet you. The indication was this, I tell you a secret, hear?

- She was? There is? She is alive? He asked faintly.

- And then! And it was, and is, and is alive.

- Where is she? - shouted Zotov.

- Yes, do not yell, you hear me. Your years are not the same - a voice for me to raise something ...

- Where is she? He asked in a whisper.

- Now you are whistling like a beast ... Eh! Here, hold on, - Natal Semenna thrust a sheet to him.

Zotov greedily grabbed him and read:

Via Alegria, 217, Buenos-Aires, Argentina, 8.00 - 20.00

- Argentina? ... Is that it? She is here?

- Here, here.

- Thank you very much! - muttered Zotov. - Thank you, Natal Semenna ...

- Yes, not at all. Don't thank me.

- And ... one more question. Can?

- Well, go ahead, - Natal Semenna muttered displeasure. - What is the question?

- Who is he?

- What is “he”?

- Well ... You do understand. Who took her ... from me?

- Uh, my dear! - Natal Semenna shook her head. - Are you kidding again? You understand yourself, what level is the will involved here, since He was able to remove it from your Interface with all the drivers, files and other garbage. Such subjects to you, two-legged cockroaches, are not supposed to be. The interface will hang. This is not your mind.

- Well, but still? Should I know my enemy?

- Pussy trimandoblyadskoy you fucking ebany should fucking! Fuck off, Konstantin Ivanovich! Fuck off! - Natal Semenna suddenly shouted, spreading a rainbow stain. Her face pereobrazochilos and sprouted glasses-shafts, continuing to yell: - Fuck off, Konstantin Ivanovich! ..

***

—... Wake up, Konstantin Ivanovich! Wake up!

The shafts materialized and hung over him.

- BUT? What?..

- Wake up ... Ffuh. It seems alive, ”Kohl gasped, adjusting his glasses.

Around rustled.

“Via Alegria, 217, Buenos Aires, Argentina, from eight to eight,” said Zotov, looking nowhere. Then he stood up like a robot on a bed and felt on the table a pen and paper prepared in advance.

- What? What he says? What is he writing? - Buzzed from behind. - On myself ... heroically ... in the name of science ...

“Wi-a A-le-h-ri-a,” the professor would say, writing down a spell that evaporated quickly from memory like smoke. - ar-gen-ting ... Yes? Good evening, colleagues ...

— 2 —

Via Alegria turned out to be a shabby alley on the outskirts of the city. Taxi, apparently, was here something like a UFO, and the whole street ran at Zotov getting out of the car.

Glancing at the half-naked brunettes (they seemed to be a revived soap opera crowd), he entered No. 217. And right there, right at the door, he bumped into a swarthy shoulder in pink lace.

“Sorry,” he said. - I need to find a same girl ...

(... Chert! It was necessary not “girl”, but “woman” ...)

- Göll? - asked shoulder. It was naked and velvety, like in photoshop pictures. - Oh, si, si! Göll!

Zotov backed away.

He did not know Spanish, the girl did not know English. She was very young, about eighteen years old (or hell knows them, Latin when they mature), and velvet-laced, as with advertising.Photoshop, Zotov thought again, fidgeting under the stare of oily eyes.

- Göll! Entrare! Entrare! Göll! - the girl laughed and dragged him, having grasped for a hand, upward.

“No, no, thanks ... you misunderstood ...” Zotov muttered, switching to Russian from helplessness.

Latina lace hips screaming louder than her voice. All these fifteen years, Zotov has not had sex. He could not, had no right ...

“But ... but ...” he mumbled, dissolving into his oily eyes, as if in a syrup. Latina saw how it acts on him, and smiled to him from ear to ear. She was a child, infused into the body of a woman, just matured. That was what drove him crazy in Leela ...

He did not understand how he found himself in the room, how he was stripped, laid down and laid down under him. It all consisted of a stone riser that had to be dipped into the syrup of the velvet body — and then there would be life and happiness, otherwise death would be ...

It was the same, desperate, without brakes, when the mind turns off, releasing the body and its insane color heat. So it was with Lily ... Zotov pounded in a happy Latina, looking at how her brown nipples jumped, and was torn to pieces by lust and shame ...

Then everything mixed up, and the velvet flesh was everywhere - above, below and around everything, and everywhere there was a cry, a wheeze and a sweet pain, and then - havoc, thick and sticky, like molasses ...

- ABOUT! ABOUT! Matosigentiente! - admiringly Latina, clutching Zotov in the hand. “Demutatoparatobienesiguenelamorem! ..”

Worn down, Zotov, dressed, handed her a hundred bucks, summoning a new fountain of gratitude, and without looking at her, went out into a shabby corridor.

Down the stairs, which he did not remember. Staggering, he began to descend.

And then he saw Lily.

More precisely, he saw a woman who was nothing like her — a short-haired woman (Lily had a mane to the waist), a blonde woman (Lily was brown-haired), with a thick-faced, battered face.

But for some reason I immediately realized that it was she. And he called:

- lil?

She shuddered, her head thrown back (this was her characteristic gesture). And just as quietly, with a funny accent:

- Kostya? ..

***

- I could not ... Sorry ... I do not know how it happened ... I have been looking for you all these years, fifteen years ... I came for you ... And met her, and ... I do not know like this ... - justified Zotov, holding her hand.

- I always waited for you to come in and call “Lil?” I waited and waited, even though this is the most ... And now I don’t believe, and I can’t even cry, here ... - Muttered everyone with that same funny accent, squeezing his fingers.

They spoke at the same time. Then they exhausted and fell silent, afraid to look at each other.

“Come to me,” said Lily. - Let's go to.

- Lilechka, I really want to, but ... I can not, probably ... I do not know how it happened ... I have not been for fifteen years ... I have been waiting for you ... God, how stupid .. - Zotov shouted again.

“Enough,” said Lily. “Now I’m wrong about that.” Let's go to.

They entered a darkened room, the same as that of a Latina.

“This is my office,” Lily grinned. - Here I am ... Do you know what?

- What?

- Let's just shut up. Let's try to understand that you found me.

She pulled him to her, clasping her hand. Zotov finally decided to consider it. His Lily shone like grass in a piece of ice through a mask of wrinkles and cosmetics, through a grimace imprinted in the corners of her lips ...

“I woke up here,” she spoke again. - That is, not here, but in another place ... it does not matter. You then went to the toilet, and I lost consciousness ... probably. She came to here already in Aires. These gangsters, they somehow got into us, stunned me, stole, right? They recruited the girls here ... I kept thinking, how are you? What did they do to you? How ... Read more →