I was waiting for the promised call. Not selflessly, not like a teenager in love, in a different way. It was the excitement of the player, the excitement of the hunter. I looked predatory on the black lifeless screen of the phone. I understood that I could only answer before I went home. If she does not call back before the end of the working day, she will have to leave the phone at the office and only count on the next day. I will not recruit myself - this is a mistake at the start. Besides, I had no doubt she would call back.

The clock was a quarter to six. I had already started to get together: I turned off the office equipment, folded the documents in one stack, when the motionlessly lying smartphone lit up and began to flick over the smooth surface of the table with a characteristic buzz. I accepted the challenge.

“Alo,” her voice was empty again, with haughty notes.

- Hmm. So Annie mean? - I decided to immediately take the bull by the horns. - And who is he, your young man?

- Husband! She snapped. - Does it matter?

- For me, no, but for you?

“So you want to meet me?” - still coldly she avoided the previous question.

“Yes, I do,” I answered affirmatively. - Want to see you.

- Thought about me? - in her voice appeared depth and, as it seemed to me, a certain eroticism.

- Every day - I stretched. - And you thought?

- You can meet me tomorrow from a friend at twelve - the second time, without answering my question, she said. - I'll throw off your address SMS-Coy.

“I can,” I quickly answered, quoting my plans in my head. - I'll dial you as I come.

- Good. Bye then ... (the voice was aloof).

“Bye,” I answered calmly, in her manner.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, warmer, ending the conversation.

I sat twisting the phone in my hands and analyzed our communication. What is it, just a bad mood? Maybe this guy gave her a scene, suspected something? But then he would surely call back the notorious Anya to check the legend. Or does she play with me? Right, this jerk is trying to hook me. Well, it's even more interesting. The working day has been completed. I went home in anticipation of the promising "tomorrow."

The next day I started not standard. Having told my wife that I was leaving for work, I went to the expensive SPA-salon of our city for a gift for Yulia. It is hard to imagine, but the wife gave me the idea of ​​the gift. Once she gave me a visit for two to this salon. We bashed in the phyto barrels, we got bored from Thai massage, enjoyed the tea ceremony, in general, had a great time.

I have decided to use the tested reception myself in this case. In the SPA, I purchased a gift certificate for a set of procedures, including Thai massage. I thought massage was a symbolic gift, not without irony. The certificate was beautifully turned into a scroll, stylized as an eastern antiquity, and tied with a thin silk ribbon with the image of hieroglyphs. She should like it - girls usually like that.

The visit I purchased for one. First, in order to banal savings. Secondly, less risk. And, thirdly, I wanted to look more disinterested, thus, as if showing me, I don't need anything from you, just go and indulge yourself.

I drove into the navigator specified in the SMS address and went towards the exciting suspense. Ten minutes before the appointed time, I stopped at the corner of the usual five-story building, looked around and waited. At exactly twelve he made a test call.

- Hello. Did you find out?

- Yes hi. Have you already arrived? - she began much nicer than yesterday.

- I'm at the corner of the house.

- What is your car?

I, specifying the brand and color of the car, continued:

- Yul, I have a little present for you.

- Mm ... What a present? She said curiously.

“You'll see when you get out,” I intrigued. - Not long left.

- I will soon. - Playfully she threw.

There is a theory that a man defines a woman as a potentially desirable sexual partner during the first minute of dating. Probably for this reason, representatives of the beautiful half of humanity are trying to look good on the first date. Waiting for the appearance of Julia, I imagined her appearance: what she would be dressed in, how her hair, her make-up would be arranged. Images from the recent past were superimposed on my expectations, and it seemed to me that it would be simply irresistible.

But, to my surprise, when she first appeared in real life, I felt a slight disappointment. No, she did not seem to me ugly, and even vice versa. She was young and attractive - the same pretty face, the same slender figure. But now it was all somehow mundane. In her appearance, there was no such magic that I felt in the massage parlor. In addition, her lips were too bright red lipstick, on her feet some tasteless black shoes on a high platform. Odeta Julia was wearing a cheap windbreaker with a stupid rivet and a short black skirt, which made the body disproportionate, taking into account its low growth, which spoiled her very much.

I have never been attracted to the shy. The chaste virgin wife is not mine. I like girls in the form of a whore. But I love dear whores. And she looked ridiculous, like a very budget version of a socialite, if not a young prostitute from the highway. Hell, I was surprised and outraged at the same time, why did she decide to appear on the first date? I wrote it off on age. She's probably looking for herself. Good taste in clothes just did not have time to form. Her appearance even made me a condescending smile, which she, apparently, took for her greeting:

- Hello! - She smiled in response.

- Hello!

Julia sat next. I kept looking at her already inside the car. She also appreciated me, and, judging by her contented face, she liked my business style a great deal, although apparently he was clearly out of touch with her own.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” She asked impatiently. - I look bad?

- No, you look very good.

“Thank you,” my interlocutor said in a satisfied voice. - You too. What is your present?

It was felt that this question was spinning in her tongue. Slowly, I took out a certificate from the armrest and handed it to Yulia. She took the scroll in her hands, looking around with curiosity and trying to understand what it was. The girl looked at me inquiringly.

“Cut it,” I suggested.

She pulled the ribbon and unrolled the parchment. Julia took a grasp, then turned to me, suddenly hugged and kissed me on the cheek, as if I really was her boyfriend. It was so natural and pleasant. There was more to her kiss than gratitude. He lasted a little longer than the usual innocent kiss, and felt on the skin much more tender.

- Ooh! - pretty whined she. - Thank you! I have long wanted to go there. Have you been there, did you like it?

“Yes, once,” I replied casually, but suddenly for a moment I felt a sort of sadness, and I added thoughtfully: “It’s cool there.”

Julia did not notice this momentary change of mood, or pretended not to notice.

After a short introductory conversation from the series, what you do and what you love, we decided to go for lunch. Yulia herself suggested “Mack-Auto”, and I did not persuade her. For obvious reasons, I did not want to openly sit with her in some cafe. Apparently, for the same reasons, she also could not afford it.

Therefore, the option to buy food without leaving the car, suit us both.

We put paper bags, exuding a warm and inviting smell, on the back seat and, at my suggestion, went to a beautiful place on the outskirts of the city overlooking the river - quiet and inconspicuous.

Yulia was never there, and therefore, when we began to wind down the winding streets of the private sector, she looked at me with curiosity and a certain ... Read more →