I am a translator of Intourist, I work with French groups. The distant but wonderful 70s were standing now. Our work was very responsible and tense, the era was like this - solid rallies and political studies. Even in restaurants there was no time to sit quietly, constantly had to translate toasts and talking about friendship, in short, solid strained. If you’re lucky and you don’t need to sort things out with the kitchen, you can only manage to skip a glass and pick a fork in a salad. Just what was wrong, they could have fired right away. Therefore, after work I always wanted to relax, relieve stress and relax a bit.

Each rested in their own way. Some drank, but most had fun with the opposite sex. In our prestigious department of Central Europe and the Scandinavian countries, then there were a lot of young people, a lot of nice guys and girls. Eyes just run away. Intourists, mostly group leaders, were also often invited to have a nice time in their rooms. But I did not sleep with foreigners for several reasons.

First of all, I wanted, besides my husband, to have a less permanent partner. Secondly, at that time everything had to be done with great apprehension. For tourists and us, translators, vigilantly watched the same young people in uniform. But we always calculated them right away and knew everyone by sight and by name. In addition, the most annoying that their own, too, could successfully lay about unlawful communication. Some, of course, neglected the rules, but they were mostly those who slept with those and others. According to rumors, many translators themselves said that they came into contact with foreign tourists and they even liked it. This sinned not only free girls, but even married.

They were engaged in this both on the routes and in Moscow itself. They said that they not only fuck you properly, but also bring you home with all the comforts. As for me, I prefer to walk with my colleagues checked in bed, which I sometimes do, but only, as they say, not at the place of residence. It is best to sleep with someone away from his native city, in some hotel in St. Petersburg or on the Golden Ring, where no one knows you. Rumors, of course, can arise, but they will remain within the limits of the native translation team and will never reach the husband, which is extremely important. Yes, and the husband himself does not break into another city at the most inopportune moment and does not catch you in the wrong shape, riding a colleague. But at that time I was still a modest mouse and deviated "left" from the route only once.

The second time I changed my husband six months after my adventure in the train. Everything happened one autumn evening shortly before the first anniversary of our wedding. The weather was dank, I didn’t want to catch private traders in the rain, and the taxi drivers at Metropolis were just flooded.

- Where are you going? Maybe you landed on the road? - I asked, just in case, my “boss”, with whom we have overclocked the floor of Moscow today.

- In the garage on Paveletskaya embankment.

- Well, we are just on the way - not believing in such a successful coincidence, I said.

Nikolai, that was the name of my young handsome driver, told me a couple of funny incidents about tourists on the way, I shared my own. They did not notice how in a few minutes they walked through the deserted Moscow to my house on Paveletsky Drive. From him to the garage was less than a minute away. Nikolai slowed down, turned on the soft music. I did not want to go home. Perhaps it was the rain that was to blame, or maybe a pleasant interlocutor, a new unusual atmosphere and the feeling that you were already at home.

Word for word, we talked, discussing our joint problems at work, as well as our mutual friends translators. It was good to just hang out, and not to issue a traditional excursion program. I was pleased to talk with him - my husband, as a rule, is laconic, constantly busy with some work chores, you will not talk to him like that. And here are common acquaintances, common interests. Yes, and Nicholas had something to share. For the entire working day, he never had the chance to chat with anyone.

Nikolai offered to skip a glass. He himself was driving, but he had only a couple of hundred meters to go, there was no movement, and there were never cops here.

Poured myself purely symbolically, to cover the bottom, I - half a glass of vodka.

- On brotherhood! He suggested.

- fraternité, so fraternité, - I supported and knocked over the contents of the glass in one fell swoop.

Carefully kissed instead of snacks and immediately missed the second, so to speak, without delay. Pleasant warmth crept inside the abdomen, warming the whole body. We sit, baldeem, the conversation has become even more relaxed, the topics have gone more candid. I found out who was sleeping with translators. Where else can you get such valuable data. It turns out that the drivers give each other information in order to know who can be dragged into the bed, and who is useless. Who has what addictions, who takes in his mouth, who - no, who - swallows, who - just makes money. Then they watch which of the translators will work with the group, choose the one they like and ask to put them to this job. I started seriously from these intimate conversations, I sit, have fun with my foot, but after the third toast, “for me” decided that it was time to pack up, the rain had completely stopped, and they were waiting for me at home. I got up from the seat, like “it's time to the side”, and Nikolay gallantly took my hand and brought me up to the steps of the bus.

At parting, I decided to thank him and kissed him on the lips. Probably, she didn’t calculate - alcohol had drunk during the evening (and on the bus), but the kiss turned out to be somewhat sensual and lasted longer than it was intended, in short, I slightly went beyond the limits of decorum. I still do not know whether I consciously did it, or everything happened by chance. Probably could have been both. What happened, happened, it was too late to retreat ...

It is necessary to pay tribute to Nicholas, he was not taken aback, and immediately took the kiss as a guide to action, as a resolving signal of the traffic light. He hugged me by the shoulders, pulling me to himself, and at first smacked me on the lips several times in the form of short kisses. Strange, but it got me. Seeing that I was not pulling away, he pressed tightly to my lips. Feeling a man’s pressure, I relaxed and surrendered to the will of the waves, which began to overwhelm me. For a long time we stood, embracing at the exit, then Nikolay pulled me to the end of the bus. Why? I have been married for about a year, I wanted to remember the youth and introduce some variety in my family life. I raised my head up. Ikarus stood just under the windows of our house, and it was clear how the lights came on in our kitchen. Probably my husband wanted to cook something to eat for my arrival. In restaurants, you don’t find much, the portions are small, and the tourists are constantly distracting, they’ll get some beer or water without gas. All the time, someone utters toasts or telling jokes, and you have to translate all this, in short, as if solid congestion (in a figurative sense, of course).

While I was lost in thought, Nikolay managed to sit down (almost said “plant”) in the back seat of me and began to gently but firmly embrace me. The reservation would be quite appropriate and understandable, as my thoughts began to take a very definite direction. For a long time no one harassed me so much, it was nice to remember my unmarried days and nights.

He continued to kiss me, and he himself unzipped the zipper on my windbreaker and ran his hand to my small but neat breasts. Nipples quickly began to swell and hardened to indecency.I lifted my blouse up to enjoy the male movements better, and I lay down on my back. Now rare passers-by could not see us from the street. I felt completely safe, not at all like in the hotel room, where the inspectors could rush at any moment. The back of the bus was much warmer, and I lowered the bra lower, not even having time to unbutton it, ...