otherwise, as a sign, allowing the Flyers to attack everything that was on the other side of it.

Two large helicopters boarded a flat top of the extreme hill. They stood and took off. Immediately from the top of the hill, the white-and-black mushroom of the “nuclear” explosion rose frightening high into zenith ...

“A barrel of gasoline rushed,” said the senior lieutenant, lighting a cigarette. - We laid it deep two days ago. Here it is from the bottom of the well and shuganula ... It came out very naturally. You, soaring, - he turned to Bolshakov, - collect your paint-paintings, but hurry to the headquarters building. From there, exactly in the direction of your part of the "one hundred and thirty-seven" will go. Of course, it is ZIL, not a bus, but still - transport. Otherwise, you will be stuck here until the end of the teachings, how to drink! ... Kohl the marshal arrived, the bosses are not up to you now ...

...

Bolshakov walked into an empty gym, with a light-hearted man returning home. During the weeks that he spent here, drawing the scenery for the ballet, this place became something close to him. Here his service received, albeit temporary, but certainty. Approached art.

The design of the Lenin's room, the combat sheets, the wall newspapers and the library premises, compared with what he was returning to now, did not go with any new comparisons.

The only thing that was serious in that non-serious was Elena Pavlovna, his first mistress with whom he learned science - to love like a man: hard and diverse.

However, now, he faced a different, more interesting goal - the wife of the lieutenant colonel was beautiful and perfect herself, the karma of his new attraction to the world of colors and love dreams.

Walking through the gym with an economic look, Boria noted with satisfaction that during his absence, no one had spoiled anything, had not moved, had not made any changes. In the cool, unheated air, there were the usual smells of acrylic and oil paints, the volatile fumes of Wye Spirit tingling nostrils and something else, peculiar only to an artistic workshop.

- Well hello! - said Boris Petrovich Bolshakov to his hall. - I returned...

He carried the unfinished portrait of the virtual passion into the far depths, leaned him to look at him for some time, estimating the next stages of the work, grunted approvingly and turned his face to the wall. "It will be a surprise that will pave the way to my beauty," he thought, stroking a stretcher with a stretched canvas, "It is only necessary to block something ...".

Glance stopped on the nightstand.

Without removing the contents, Bolshakov pulled a heavy nightstand from the pile of gymnastic mats to the place where the future ram of Heart Defense Bestuzhevoy was leaning against the wall, thinking retroactively that it would be more logical to bring the stretcher with a portrait to the bedside ...

- Oh, and heavy crap ... - he just managed to say how “crap”, flung open, and the contents of the upper shelf poured onto the artist’s floor, to the artist’s boots ...

- Heck! A bad head does not give rest to your back ...

Selecting sheets of sketches and albums Bolshakov, I remembered the drawing I did at the promise of Petrovich: “You can’t give it to your cheek, so at least draw about it.”

The joke of the second hypostasia was pleasant and, playing with imagination, the artist's hand portrayed something resembling depravity: Bestuzhev, bending in the dance, as it were, stretches to the rebellious member of Bolshakov. Both were naked and beautiful.

“But it turned out well!” Borya remembered, flipped through the album in search of an erotic drawing and, instead of him, saw the edge of the torn sheet.

- Gosha! Who is it so "tried? ..."

Thoughtfully, he dragged the nightstand to the portrait, and sat down on a chair with an ill-fated album.

“To whom is it impatient to pick my things? ...”

Once, at the beginning of the service, Salabon Bolshakov, for future memories, tried to keep something like a diary, recording there “what he saw, and sing about that”.

But the watchful sergeant Namakonov quickly this "ethnographic work about the soldier's life in the Soviet Army" stopped, destroyed and sent the "hacker" to clean the latrine for thirty points ...

“Yes, it was the case,” Bolshakov recalled Namakonov’s face. - But still, who? ..

“And you do not guess? - filed in the head of the soldier his voice the first hypostasis "Boris". - The key to the emergency entrance to the gym who still have? ... That's the same ... "

- She broke it!

"Is not a fact. Perhaps requisitioned ... "

“Yeah, to admire your Kid,” Petrovich giggled.

- Something you zadolgols! Just worn out, waiting ... - entered the gym, Nina Georgievna ...

...

Having noticed an album known to her in the hands of the artist, the woman perceptibly blurred.

“You always pursue me in intimate moments,” said Bolshakov, who, at the thought that Bestuzhev saw and “appreciated” the bawdy “masterpiece” with her participation in negligee, began to stir for a long time, the Little Waking One. - It costs me to think about you and here you are - here, as here!

Bolshakov defiantly stood up so that the mound arising in the breeches was clearly visible.

- Let me make sure ...

- kidding me? ..

- I have never been so serious as now. He was even excited, introducing primo-belerina, sneaking on pointe shoes to other people's things.

- I am afraid that I do not understand ... - the lieutenant colonel came to herself, shooting at a causal place.

Bolshakov managed to notice this quick glance toward his crotch.

- I can clarify. Why did you, without asking, climb in my nightstand and destroy the best of the drawings?

There was a pause.

Leaning his free hand on the back of the chair and holding “material evidence” in front of him, the soldier stood in the pose of a punishing judge, who was waiting for the convict sentenced to be shot, to have the final word with a request for pardon.

- He was terrible. Solid abomination ... - Found Bestuzhev.

- Not true. The drawing was good. In it, I put all my diligence. All the passion. Have you not noticed how much passion there was in him? ..

“You are a concerned man, Bolshakov.” And use what I tolerate you, only out of necessity ... How did you get to such a life, Boris Nikolayevich?

- Ah well! Then, I beg your pardon, allow, madam, to be extremely frank? ... - Bolshakov paused, waiting for any objections? ... Those did not follow.

- Enough reticence and twisting! - he went on the offensive. - Now or never! How did I get to this life? Everything is very simple. I had a predisposition to love other wives, as others have a predisposition to become a hunter, a builder or a military man. We have with you, Nina Georgievna, a very specific relationship. You are the wife of my boss, I am his subordinate. Everything is clear here. But, as you probably noticed, there is a healthy, full-fledged man in front of you ... But you will not pretend to not notice? ... At nineteen, it is difficult to observe abstinence. This condition is comparable to a headache. The nature of the body requires a discharge ... And my body has chosen you ...

Bestuzheva stood in the unshakable pose of actress Yermolova in the famous picture of Valentin Serov.

So she, somehow, resisted the verbal onslaught and shock of such a sudden revelation of a soldier.

“She is invincible,” thought Bolshakov, looking at Bestuzhev.

“There are no invincibles,” remarked “Boris.” “It’s all about patience and time ...”

And Nina Georgievna understood Bolshakov very messy, confused in her own thoughts:

“He, that, in fact, speaks about it! ... Is it I who are obliged to subject myself to such torture? ...”

She was still looking at Bolshakov with her head held high, but soon she wilted, looked to the floor and, with the tip of her right shoe, began, involuntarily, to repeat the contour of the stain from the once-spilled paint ...

For some reason, she received a nondescript idea that she would have to repaint the floors again ... then she thought about something else ... Then a clearer thought: "Why did I pull this stupid picture out of the album? ... I was stupid ..." And then, she replied to herself: “No! All rightThere wasn’t enough anyone to see him! ”

- Did you show this painted muck to someone? - Bestuzheva asked, not noticing the excitement that she had stopped vykat.

But Bolshakov did not escape this essential detail of the state of the deposed boss.

“Only you and yourself,” he said.

“The girl is not as hard as she would like to appear,” defined “Petrovich.”

"And I tend to agree ..." - added "Boris".

- So, did not show. It is clear ... - Bestuzheva overpowered herself and looked up at Bolshakov. - So what do you want from me? Confessions of an unseemly act? ... Okay. Consider that you got it. What else? Permissions to masturbate on my image?

“Yes,” said Bolshakov straightforwardly as a soldier. - I want to masturbate on you, but alive, in your presence.

- Fuck! - in the head of Nina Georgievna a stream of all swear words has flown that she has ever heard. - You are crazy, boy!

Bolshakov shrugged:

- Is there anything more inspiring? Just a couple of minutes, and I will be able to get to work ... I learned to bring myself to a full-fledged state with my hands already here in the Army. This is done by all the soldiers and not only. Drochat on photos from magazines, on officer wives, and most of all on you, Nina Georgievna. Because there is no more beautiful and desirable woman in the whole garrison ... - he switched to the customary vocalism, believing that in this way he would emphasize respect for the lieutenant colonel’s seduced spouse. - Do not even imagine how much sperm is “drained” on your imaginary ass and mouth ...

Bestuzhev, listened as if the fish had been cast ashore, helplessly catching air, and after these words, hastily covered her mouth with a narrow palm.

I remembered the scene of his masturbation in an empty apartment:

“Why does sin generate sin?” Flashed through her pretty head ...

- But how else would the soldiers, cut off for two years from the female body, resist the natural need to fuck? - continued to finish the unfortunate victim Bolshakov. - Violent? Not an option. Because it is against the law. It remains to masturbate. The procedure is known, but you must use it correctly. To include the movement of the hands enhanced imagination ...

Judging by the tone and decisive face of a private, Nina Georgievna guessed that all this was not improvisation, but a well-thought-out attack on her marital honor, which turned out to be unprepared for such an attack ...

The speaker put the album aside and began to unbuckle the codpiece. - You can watch how this is done or turn away, Nina ... But do not leave. Your presence will speed up the process ...

Bestuzhev struck like a tetanus. Not believing in the reality of what was happening, she was stupidly staring at a sausage emerging from the hole of a soldier's breeches of solid size with a head that was not completely torn off.

Only when Bolshakov gripped a considerable “household” with fingers stained with paint and, smiling arrogantly, began to drive him into a tightly clenched fist, pulling on his skin and baring his purple prick, did the woman turn away sharply.

For more she simply had no strength. Fast, strong, obedient in any dance legs like numb. As then, at home, near the table where the drawing lay ...

- Oh, well, something like! - With a moan, a soldier exhaled behind her in a dry voice. - I never felt bad about it! ... As if, in fact, I fucked ...

And quieted down.

Bestuzheva rushed to the door ...

(To be continued)