not before that. He spread his knee to Julia with his knee and put his palm between his taut hips. He ran his fingers over the gentle, flowing grease of the folds of the flesh, grabbed the rounded buttocks with his palms and spread it. In the hollow between them everything was the same white and marble-smooth - neither a speck nor a hair. Yulka's point turned out to be a working one - sprawled, greedy until dick, and Ardent spat in his palm, quickly moving around his penis and attaching himself to the head. He pressed, driving quickly, with pleasure, tugging at her hips to the beat, grabbing a ghostly creature by the arms and hips, by perfect breasts, as if trying to feel every inch of her okhuennogo body.

And then it was all over.

Ardent stood, resting his hands on a legged table, entrails were scattered around him, and Julia disappeared, as if she had never been. Neither she herself, nor the respirator, nor the fucking ass - Yarom was left with only slackened pants and a viscous, pulsating anger in the lower abdomen.

He straightened up, somehow sticking his dick into his panties, and turned around. Kiryukh stood on the stairs, and his face was stunned.

“What is this for ...” he said.

- Well, I finished my pants, and now what? - snapped Ardent. And then he guessed that Kiruha was not talking about him, but about guts wound on a chandelier.

After a while, Ardent buttoned his pants, wiped his hands on his hips and said:

- Kirill Maslennikov, you have received seventeen complaints. As an official representative of the hotel, I am authorized to deal with this.

Kiruha pushed his jaw and pushed himself.

“You fucked up,” he grunted. - what are the fucking complaints?

“You killed seventeen women,” Fiery explained to him. - I have not the last refuge here. I have a last resort for those who are crazy and creates garbage.

“I'm a ghost,” Kiruha reported. His voice sounded unshakable. - I create what I want!

- Not-eea, - Ardent smiled and bowed his head. A piece of lung separated from the ceiling and loudly fell on the floor. - You're alive, moron piece. Of course, you are still a maniac ... But absolutely definitely alive.

* * *

It is light.

Ardent and Osa were sitting on the roof of the hotel, dragging chairs, glasses of wine and a whole stack of printouts from the bar. There was something sticky and sweet in taste in the glass of Ardent - whether blood, or port. The paper, which he clutched in his palm, read:

“Hotel guests are strictly prohibited to:

- to argue with the maids about their soul, breakfast, virginity, the second kiss of the first daughter, the last ray of the March sun, the sixty-sixth page of their father’s favorite book, etc.

- take the chef on the weak. We have already found out that he can drink all the water in the laundry room, swap furniture on the first floor with furniture on the second, repaint the hotel’s walls in a poisonous pink color and wash for 18 hours in a row. No more experiments!

- Blow on the fingers and say “now, just finish my nails”, when emergency cleaning is required after the visit of old woman Meg. The insides on the cabinets are fi, it's unhygienic! The fact that you are not a servant does not justify you!

- to the question “What happened in your room ?!” to answer “Everything that happened in Vegas stays in Vegas”.

- say laundry workers "Yes, Scarlett Johansson, breast size is bigger than your IQ!"

- even if it's true. "

“Here is a plague,” said Ardent, releasing a piece of paper. She flew, caught in the wind, spinning and flapping angles like bird wings. - I wrote a thousand rules so that sick ghosts would not tear the hotel to me. Now what, you need to write another thousand rules for the sick on the head of people?

“Come on,” said the Wasp, not looking up from her cell phone. - He hurt himself in a wheelbarrow, killed his woman, and he survived. He imagined that he was dead instead of her, and began to justify this murder. He is not sick - just a maniac.

“What a sick man,” retorted Ardent. - He is a living man, who considers himself a ghost!

- And you are a ghost, chatting with his imaginary friend.

- Bitch.

- Pizdyuk.

- The brainworm.

- have sex?

- If you were real, I would agree.

From the attic stairs came the sounds of struggle, and the Ardent turned around.Right in the center of the roof, an awesome-looking construction was installed - a rubber phallus, one meter long, strung on a metal pin. As Osa said: for inflexibility. Sixteen offended ghostly women dragged Kiruha onto the roof, carefully holding him under his arms and grabbing his bare thighs. Another squeezed grease on elda rubber. Kiruha himself was undressed. The bundles on his legs were prudently clipped to him - now he was crawling his feet on the roof, but he could not get up.

- Che for garbage, - he was crying. - Ardent, Ardent, fucking, what the fuck, Ardent, you're a bro, well, I killed them, and what? Are women more important than bro?

“Yes,” Fiery admitted. “Anything more important to me than a bro like you.”

The ghostly maidens strained, setting Kiruha back on the meter dick, and he howled - puzzled, furiously, shoving aside his thin girlish hands.

- What the fuck! What the fuck! Che for garbage!

“I thought: such a fag is like you, and the demise is necessary,” explained Yariy. - By the way, it was not easy to find the meter dildo. I traveled half the city!

Kiruha howled - ghostly women finally found the right hole, and with excitement hung Kiruha on their shoulders, pushing him onto a rubber dick.

- The first twenty centimeters will be tolerated, - Fiery reassured him, shaking port wine in his glass. Or blood. “Then this ebanina will press the crap in you, move the internal organs and tighten the gut until it bursts.” Death is so-so, but you don’t deserve anything better.

She sat beside her, chewing gum and dangling her legs. On her T-shirt it was: "Working with your mouth is better than not having a job."

- The tip is not sharp, - added Ardent. - There will be no bleeding, and you will not be able to die quickly. Have a nice day.

Kiruha twitched, pushing himself onto the meter elda even deeper. His screams turned into a tearful, annoying scream.

“Caramel,” Yariy said loudly, trying to block out the screams. - I want a Morozhenko with salted caramel!

- Seriously? - Wasp asked disapprovingly, bursting a bubble of gum. - The man here is torn apart by a large rubber hu ... hu ...

She laughed, shoved Ardent in the shoulder and jumped off the chair, walked to the attic stairs.

- And the truth, you can not tell without laughter. So, order an ice cream?

- Or pizza ...

- With anchovies and pepperoni.

- Pepperoni - sucks. With hunting sausages, mushrooms and ...

- Mushrooms - sucks.

- You do not exist at all, you do not have the right to vote.

- And you would not go fuck!

- And you would not go ...

* * *

It took Yarogo less than an hour to pack. He threw things into Kiryukha’s orphaned suitcase, instead of wearing a bartender’s uniform, pulled on a sweater and jeans, sweeping soot and grease, and walked confidently toward the exit.

“Hey,” he called from behind. - What for?

The wasp was sitting on the railing, shaking her foot in a red sneaker.

- Why did you think of me? She asked. - Kiruha had a meaning. He invented his own death in order to become steeper — more terrible, of course, but also steeper — than he was in life. Why do you need me?

Ardent grinned, short glance over his shoulder.

“Imagine that I am alive, and an important person has died for me,” he said. - If this happened, I would have invented an imaginary friend with his face. If you broke up with someone too early, you want to catch up.

The wasp was silent.

- In my case, the opposite is true, - continued Ardent. - I already died. Early broke up with loved ones - much earlier than he wanted. And who should I invent, if not them?

“So I'm alive,” said the Wasp, and laughed softly. “I'm not here because I'm still alive ...”

The hotel breathed and twisted lazily, like a cat in a basket. Saying goodbye to him, Ardent felt surprisingly correct. Julia is a dead girl with perfect breasts, a smoothly shaved cunt and a respirator instead of a face — she sat famously on the reception desk. Passing by her, Ardent said:

- Darling, if you want to work here - welcome, just put on your uniform.

At the door to the dining room, he lingered. There everything went on as usual: a guy with a pokemon-go, a lass with nipple piercings and three maids played poker. The friendly family — the jealous husband, the blond lady, and her new lover, from whose head a piece of armature stuck out — drank coffee with fresh buns. The chef stuffed a working hand blender into the mouth of one of the guests, splashes of blood and scraps of soft tissue flew around.The ardent did not condemn him: in the end, nobody will like it if they cook his cooking.

- Everything, dudes! He shouted. - I love you, but you fucked me right in the liver!

Now Yaroy was separated from freedom only by a small lobby - fifteen meters, twenty-two steps and ...

The front door swung open. A virgin in a wedding dress with a face twisted in horror fell into her. With her hands she held numerous skirts, and with all her appearance resembled meringues.

“Nooo,” groaned Ardent. - Again?

- I was killed! - screamed the bride, and her voice was shrill, like the screech of the grinder. - He ... he ... my fiance! ..

- Write a complaint to the registrar, - offered Ardent. - What the fuck are they even allowed to marry such stupid ass? And we are closed. No last refuge, no last resort, no ...

Dragging behind her a train soaked in blood and leaving marks on the floor, the bride hung at Ardent on her neck and clutched at her with her hands, like a tick.

- He caught me with a lover! - she sobbed. - And so, at the moment of love intercourse, he is so cruel and merciless ...

The ardent was silent. On it hung someone's dead bride - crying, covered in blood, snot and dripping cosmetics, craving the same as all dead brides: revenge.

And fuck.

“Here's the fuck up,” said Ardent. “Okay, I'll find myself a red bull, and you find us the nearest empty room, okay?”

Layoff was delayed.