Cafe. Before him is a fountain. On the wall of a shabby house - a pompous panel, sustained in blue tones. Not in a gay sense of the word. It was the blue light of a radiant future - a worker and a collective farm woman, a ballet dancer and a football player, the Bratsk Hydroelectric Power Station and the Mir space station.

However, it did not at all disharmonize the look of this small town, as if stuck for a quarter of a century in the past. The names of Lenin and Kirov, Sverdlov and Frunze streets, Shaumyan and Ordzhonikidze were unchanged. Glorified peace, work and May shabby, but not removable slogans. And the appeal "comrade" sounded not only at meetings and sessions, but also in public transport and shops.

I was the “senior assistant to the junior janitor” in the candidate’s deputy team. To be honest, it was here that he didn’t shine anything, but the money for elections was allocated and must be mastered.

We are sitting in a cafe with a history teacher at one of the schools where our candidate was supposed to push the speech to students and teachers, and she was supposed to be like our guide. Her name was Margarita ... not that Aleksandrovna, not that Alekseevna, I no longer remember. Her age, again, was not recognized by her passport, but by a phrase she marked him: “10 years before retirement,” which means she was 45. Great age! Known by the people, as "forty five - the woman a berry again."

- And your disciples call you “Queen Margot”, right? - I made her a light compliment. I did not lie, she did not look like a battered and angry teacher, but a normal, moderately full, pretty and smiling woman, with rosy cheeks and a disobedient strand of diligently tinted, blue-black hair, every now and then falling down on her forehead.
- Yes, who is reading Dumas now, quit! Thank you of course, - I smiled, it means I appreciated, - I think that Ritka, and thank God, otherwise Baba Yaga did not stick out to our mathematician.
- So scary and old?
- Young and beautiful! Surname Babkin. Children, you know, do not need much to finish.

The mention of “Queen Margot” has borne fruit. When she learned that I don’t really remember anything from the novel, even the serial number of King Henry disappeared from memory, she gave me a mini-lecture on the differences between the novel Queen Margot and the real Margarita of Navarre. In the course went to Dumas-father, who used the story only as a nail for pictures, and could make his novels not only more reliable, but also more interesting, because the life of the real Margarita was richer in political and love affairs than the sentimental image of the novel heroine.

Hmmm ... Is that a hint or what? I listen to how ardently Margaret speaks, enumerating the various dukes and counts who have been in bed with the queen, and it seems to me that she herself would not mind being in the place of a loving ruler. She casually scooped another spoonful of ice cream and, having licked it, continued to broadcast to me about deceptions and intrigues ... I involuntarily imagine her rhythmic jumping on my penis, how awesome juicy breasts jump up and down, like in her fist the spoon will be clamped, but something - that is longer and thicker. Yes, eating ice cream looks very erotic and gives plenty of imagination. We quietly switched to "you", it is all in its history, and I still catch my eye with her pink tongue erotically licking ice cream ...

And if you try? Pretty ... But what the hell is not joking?

- Margo! - she pauses and looks at me. And I pause. Just looking into her eyes and smiling. Until I see her return smile. - I have one sentence for you. You can be offended and refuse, of course. But you can agree, and so it will be much better for us.
- No fraud with voices! - Margo frowns and sharply extinguishes his smile. “You up there do what you want, and I won't allow it to myself.” May I be stupid in your eyes, but honest.

Yes, all politicians go up the ass! I now have personal affairs, and in FIG I still have to solve their problems voluntarily, for that there are special people who receive money for it. Margoshka clearly overestimated my role in the election campaign, and her own too.

“Let the dead bury their dead,” I reply with a squeamish expression on my face. - They don’t interest me at all. My offer is entirely personal. “For us” meant for me and you, and not for some stupid parties.
- Oh, sorry! - Margo smiles shyly. - Well, you know, what everyone is constantly talking about and writing about now, I went to the wrong steppe, forgive me, please, I am not on purpose!
“It happens, okay,” I forgive her generously. - And I wanted to tell you this ... - and again I pull a pause, I smile and look into her eyes, dreaming of a sudden finding of the gift of hypnosis.
- Well? - After a while, it seems even with coquetry, she asks. - Speak, do not torment!

I do not know whether purely by suggestion I achieved the transfer of thoughts and desires, but I bet about it, it is already in the subject.

- Romantic adventure. Pleasant and unforgettable. I and you together. Without constraints and problems.
- But why me? - the first question of a woman is always interesting when the cards are revealed.
- I like you. And now, half an hour, I want you! - honesty is the best policy.
“But ... I don’t know, I’m not ready,” Margarita is clearly confused, she doesn’t want to refuse, but didn’t expect such playfulness — where, when, how — and repeats again — I don't know, I am not ready.

Such confusion makes her very much like a young girl, a virgin before the first act, and I immediately feel older and more experienced, despite the fact that in real life there are 5 years younger, and I am even filled with an awareness of responsibility for everything possible that we will soon have.

“Today and now,” I reply. - Bold, Margo, do not think about anything! And do not worry! You and I are adults, we know what we want from each other.
“But I ...” she crumples, but I see that I have already matured.
“Margo, I’ll take you and bring you safe and sound, I promise!”
- And you ... - Margarita's face is filled with crimson paint, it seems to me that at that moment she thought specifically about sex, and not the formal “where, how and when” tinsel - and are you serious? Are you not laughing? She almost whispers, looking embarrassed and slightly biting her lip.

What could I answer her? That the member is burning, and, if it were my will, I would have planted it right here, without departing from the ticket office ?! No, ladies and gentlemen, I do not answer her anything, silently pay the price, take my hand and briefly command:
- Come on, madam!

Where? Naturally, in “our” country cottage, which they rented for the whole of our team for the period of the election campaign.

Historical and political topics in the car alternate with:
- I'm already a grandmother, do you know?

Or:
“If I knew, in the morning I was wearing other underwear.” Let's go back and next time?

And further:
- Who would tell - they would not believe ... Before marriage, only met one ... Then her husband ... How he died three years ago, she was not with anyone ... God loves a trinity, right?

I see that she is very nervous and thus encourages herself. And her jitter gets me even more! But I just nod approvingly, smile back and say yes in the right place. Do not miss the desired turn.

... They arrived. Without saying a word, immediately in the shower.

“Hold the curtains tight,” Margo said.

Aha Would you like to twilight ... Creates an intimate setting, or just shy of his figure? Hmm, well, this is understandable: not twenty years behind, and maybe more, plus children ... Oh, women, women! A man is not an idiot - he understands everything. And more often than not, such a living, natural woman is a hundred times cooler and more desirable than a long-legged, silicone-botex girl. And what are the hips, mmmm, big, white, tender skin ...

Obediently draw the curtains. Time is still daylight and everything is well visible with the curtains drawn.

“Margot, you are so seductive that I just languish with desire,” I nod to the member sticking out and ready for battle. - What a woman! ...

The roof has almost been demolished, I stroke, kiss, and caress her in every way ...

I do not remember exactly how and at what point, but Margot, sitting on the bed, takes in her mouth and sucks for a short time, carefully and very carefully. And somehow immediately, unexpectedly quickly, we enter a rage and reach the highest tempo, when I tip her back and enter her in a classic pose, with high legs. Margo breathes heavily, then rolls her eyes and bites her lip, then looks at me tenderly, strokes gently on the face and shoulders, sometimes smiles vaguely, covering her eyes, trying to pull herself closer to me in those seconds, and I feel her heels on my buttocks.

I was already on edge, I almost finished from these heels. I stop in time and change my position, put Margoshka on all fours ... Yoly-Paly ... POP ... Big, white, fluffy and tender. There? No, refuses. I squeeze, wrinkle, stroke, kiss, and enter again, breaking into the inside. I start looking fast again, just a few minutes, and again I find myself hiding in it very quickly. She gives her pelvis so unobtrusively, whines so touchingly and moans so passionately that another reaction is impossible.

- Where? - I breathe hoarsely, mentally begging my partner not to demand interrupted sexual intercourse from me. And as if hearing my thoughts, Margo quickly responds, three times in a row the same thing.
- In me, in me, in me, - and even putting a hand back, between our legs, takes up the scrotum and holds on to it, as if making sure that I will not pull the penis to the very end.

Supeeer! Compressed by the loin in its savory, poured half-cops, I finish and finish, and at the very end of the trembling of the orgasm I catch her bodily response. Filled with gratitude, I bow, kiss the back of my head and whisper:

“Margot, you are the queen of sex!”
“Oh, don't stop embarrassing granny,” he refuses from the compliment, but it is clear how pleasant my words are to her.

Satisfied, I look at her: her eyes sparkle happily, an infant blush on her cheeks, her chest heaves high, sponges appealingly open, and the pink tongue innocently licks them. Good Queen Margot, and more!

- What if you give birth to an heir to the throne, younger than his grandson? There will be a dynastic collision, - half in jest I ask already in the car, on the way back.
“Nah,” Margot replies nonchalantly, “I don't give birth.” Menopause has its advantages.