Then again, from half-words, gestures, a conversation arises, this time it is erotic, she told some of her experience, but not wanting to substitute her (Inet is small, and it was recently), I will keep silence. The essence is that I was excited, the second call took place, but it was one-sided - she gave me a blowjob, but not so long, gently, for a long time, like at the very beginning of the meeting, but more quickly, firmly, followed by jerking, and aimed at the result, otherwise they could not make it in time.

I take a shower, leave the water open, and begin to dress. She enters the shower, after a minute shouts: “come here, I have touched the valve, it does not switch back”. Again I have to undress, so as not to get wet under the beats now not only from the shower, but also from the panel with the jets, I come to her, pull back and forth, somehow I manage to bring the valve to its previous unstable state, but still an equilibrium. Since I’m standing next to her naked, I don’t miss the opportunity to kiss and cuddle, stick my fingers into the enticing depth of the cave once more, she grumbles pretext, "Look back again, otherwise they won't let us go today", but you can see that I am pleased with this interest To her.

We leave, we help each other to dry up, get dressed. And a funny case comes to my mind from my army service, connected with an unfit crane and a foreman of a neighboring company. Having fastened the buttons of the coat and opening the door in front of her, actually already leaving the room, I begin to tell:

- We had such a ridiculous case in the army. An ensign served in a neighboring company ... - and I make a reservation, I don’t know, according to Freud or Mendoza, instead of Vardan Sergeevich (and he also had a name of one ensign like one famous Armenian actor), I say, - Kardan Sergeevich, - and stumble on her back, so she stopped abruptly and turned to me, with a very surprised and incomprehensible look.

And according to this view, I understand that she knows who the Cardan is. That she is, if not a regular contributor, commentator, then surely a constant reader of the Mendozovo storylines. And that in my response, and the furious work of thought, with whom it happened to cross, and she understands that I also know this resource and its participants very well.

The first stupor passes, the maid meets us, we accept the proper behavior, say “thanks, goodbye” to her, go down to the first floor and go out into the street. A pattern of conversation arises in my brain, how to find out who she is and whether she understood that I am DD. Remembering that in our plans there is also a trip to the subway before a certain transfer, I want to start a conversation from afar, like - do you know Cardan? And who else do you know from the authors? And whose stories do you like best? And you yourself wrote something about what was the plot?

My mobile phone vibrates in my pocket. This is my friend calling, it was with him that we agreed to meet at 13 o'clock. He just flew in from our hometown today, we have not seen him for several years, and although we regularly communicate via Skype, anyway, on the occasion of a personal meeting, a good drinking party is planned, with the involvement of another friend who has been living in Moscow for 15 years already .

Naturally, we speak our native language. Well, I suppose that for some still understandable words like “metro”, “Belorusskaya”, “Paveletskaya”, “Radisson Slavyanskaya” (conditionally), my companion understands that this is about where I need to go, and what my friend explains to me how to get to his whereabouts. Moreover, in the room I told her that after an intimate meeting with her, I have such plans for meeting with friends, and they can be so extensive that I will be busy the rest of the day, evening and night. And I will be able to meet her again not earlier than tomorrow afternoon. Well, as if they agreed that when I was free, I would call her, and she would already orient herself if she could meet.

Galya pulls me by the sleeve, smiles embarrassedly, forcing me to distract me from a telephone conversation, and showing a certain advertisement at the entrance to one of the nearby stores, says:

“You know, I need this, I’ll go to the store, and I’ll probably choose for a long time.” You do not wait for me, go to your meeting. Then get in touch.

We kiss briefly and she leaves. If she is a Mendozianka, then it was precisely by this stroke, the conversation in a non-Russian native language, that I precisely figured out. The rest of the touches were just seen with my own eyes: a bald, thick, nosy, body richly hairy, female shower deflorator DD.

And I did not understand: who am I fucked?