Ingrid was not only a foreign nickname. She led the idle life of the bourgeois-ranty, and never worked except for the works of righteous appearance at secular and bohemian events. Hanging out at exhibitions and salons, preferring avant-garde conceptualists, made some crafts herself, handed them at fabulous prices in souvenir shops for rich tourists, not really worrying about the implementation. The subsistence maximum was provided to her by a mansion in the old part of the city, inherited from her parents - a father who held a solid post during stagnation and early restructuring, and an art mom, a fierce propagandist of a modern art house, who managed to enjoy the freedom of speech of late perestroika and release a couple of books on your favorite topics. For the last fifteen years, the mansion has been leased to a local representative office of a certain medium-sized foreign fund, ensuring the comfortable existence of a 43-year-old (at the time of our acquaintance in 2013) Ingrid and her 17-year-old son (by the way, my namesake). If necessary, he helped his brother, who did not squander his father's inheritance on casinos and girls, but rather invested his share of the “gold of the party” in profitable foreign enterprises and opened his own with time, each of which he related to his sister and nephew in 1%.

At the same time, probably having the opportunity to lead a more luxurious lifestyle, Ingrid did not bury herself and was not in trouble, avoiding splashing her eyes with her ostentatious well-being. She lived in a modest 2-room apartment in a residential area on the outskirts of the city, her son went to college, though not at Oxford or Princeton, but one of those who during Soviet times were called technical schools, and the question of whether she would go to serve the army, when called upon, was not even discussed. Of course it will, man is!

Ingrid differed excellent taste and sense of beauty, inherited, apparently, through the female line. Being short in stature and rather full-bodied, not standing out for particularly subtle features and not having a figure that could cause universal male admiration, she nevertheless dressed, shod and selected jewelry with accessories in such a way that attracted attention not with extravagance, but elegance , and always looked harmonious and attractive. In any case, for those who appreciate not a fresh gingerbread, immediately beating on the brain, but seasoned, noble wine, the shades of taste of which unfold gradually. Along the same male line, from the father of the parthozapparappchika of the old school, Ingrid got, alas, not the most adorning woman qualities: peremptory determination in a number of judgments, the desire to certainly make his own way, making concessions extremely rare and reluctant, plus a low, hoarse voice, aggravated frequent smoking, even if light, almost devoid of nicotine and smog cigarettes.

In general, it is clear why her husband escaped from her. It is also clear that Ingrid, being an intelligent aunt, did not seek to remarry, although there would be plenty of people willing to taste the sweet life at the expense of the rich mate. She avoided (from her words) and the emergence of long-term relationships, in her get-together of artists, artists and art critics, who are not distinguished by excessive strictness of morals, had a reputation for capricious and flimsy lady who is hard to win and easy to lose. But what to do with a vigorous temperament and uncompromising character, which has accustomed the hostess to always achieve the desired? Sluggish novels with sophisticated figures of the world of the arts, where a partner often fucks not the body, but brains with its unrecognized genius and complaints about the inertia of the public, accompanied by pereuzudy and gossip, it was enough for her many years ago.Stay up late for cafes and restaurants in the hope of picking up a go-go cavalier? But as the Bolsheviks said, we should not wait for favors from nature, our goal is to take them. And the peculiar preferences in sex, which had long been formed, and from which Ingrid received the maximum pleasure in intimate intimacy, did not give reason to believe that any partner would willingly go to meet her. It is clear that Ingrid naturally and naturally turned out to be on Mamba. For the first time - also many years ago.

And so, on the eve of my 2013 summer trip to our homeland, we crossed online. I wrote “hello”, she answered, I briefly told about myself and informed about my intention to visit the historical homeland soon, where I would like to refresh my impressions of natural and cultural sights and make a pleasant acquaintance with an understanding woman, she briefly told about herself and said "Welcome". In my attempts to find out how pleasant the acquaintance is expected, she advised to be patient and wait for a full-time meeting, after which everything will become clear to mutual pleasure. In general, it was clear that Ingrid knew the rules of the game, we played the opening as if by notes, I hoped that the remaining phases - personal acquaintance, seduction-seduction, forwarding to the numbering and the actual bed part - would happen without a hitch and once again mark the triumph the eternal game between a man and a woman where there are no losers, but both win.

The first hitch happened with an acquaintance. I mean it was personal, because I got in touch with her almost immediately upon arrival, and we talked on the phone quite tightly - Ingrid turned out to be a lover of talk. It would seem, what's the problem? I'm on vacation, it does not work, stick a finger on any day of the calendar and any time on the clock - and make an appointment. But no! She has some kind of presentation-event, then I have already planned to go somewhere with my children or invite me to visit; let's not discount the fact that Ingrid knew the number of return tickets for me and, unlike me, could not be afraid that the date of departure would come, and the meeting would not take place.

And even on that very day, which we both agreed upon and solemnly promised each other that blood was out of our nose, but I would definitely see you, because there were only a few days before my departure, the meeting time had to be repeatedly postponed. At first, something from the electric plumbing electrician went berserk in her house, Ingrid called the master and waited for him for a long time, and then as many more until he fixed the problem. Then the son returned half-way, his shoes were torn. While we found another pair, we found suitable trousers, had to iron them, and accordingly the shirt too. The same time. Finally, in a tired and slightly wound voice, Ingrid said into the phone:
- Well, sort of like everything, DD! I'm in the bathroom, call in half an hour, I will tell you where to drive.

And how cut off! Neither after half an hour, nor after forty minutes, nor after an hour and a half did she get in touch. I call - they are ringing, do not pick up the phone, does not answer SMS. Damn, what happened? Malicious dynamo? Or maybe slipped in the bathroom-fell? Or did your heart feel bad? What I did not change my mind ... but there's nothing to be done, I don’t know the address, there are no contacts other than a mobile number either. I walk, wander around the evening city, around the lepotas, the peak of the summer heat was asleep, people are walking, relaxing in cafes, music and discord from everywhere. I went to one cafe, drank coffee, smoked, went out, walked. I went to another, the same thing. Periodically I type Ingrid ... deafly. And time passes, already a quarter to eleven. I decided to myself that I was waiting for exactly eleven, I called a taxi and went back home, there was no reason to wait anymore, even if he answered, he would surely say that it was already late and looking at night, she would not leave the house. And ten minutes to eleven, ding, call. From Ingrid.

- Hello, DD, are you? Not sleeping? - her voice is guilty and quiet, they usually talk like that when they had to disturb their interlocutor.
- I am not sleeping. And where are you? I called so much, you did not answer.Something happened?
- I saw. Excuse me please. It so happened, I did not want. She came out of the bathroom, lay down for a minute, relaxed ... and fell asleep as if she had been killed. I did not hear any calls or SMS. Just woke up. Sorry again,...