Lost my head
When I was little, I often heard a strange phrase from my parents: "Don't lose your head!" This phrase always amused me. How can you just go and lose your head?! What nonsense is that?
Yanka is my best friend! My sister in spirit. We've been together since the maternity hospital. Our mothers were in the same ward, and then gave birth to us an hour apart. I was born first, then Yanka. This small time advantage made me the older one. In our deep, serene potty-training-kindergarten childhood, I often boasted about this fact.
— I'm older than you!
This was the most compelling argument in our disputes. And for some reason, Yanka didn't resist or protest against such brazen dominance on my part at all. She acknowledged my seniority, agreeing with the decisions I made. A little later, Yanka learned to be cunning. She still agreed with my judgments and decisions, but acted as she needed to. And she did it so skillfully that I didn't even notice I was being led by the nose.
We fell in love at the same time and with the same guy. But for some reason, it didn't make us quarrel or drift apart at all.
— Lenka, I'm in love!
— With who?!
— With Pashka from 9th "B"!
— Who's that?
— Well, the basketball player, the tall one who wears Nike sneakers!
— Aaaaa! The red-haired one?
— Yes!
Yanka was the first of us to choose an object of adoration, but when she secretly showed him to me from around a corner, I immediately fell in love with him too! Later, while studying at the institute, I learned that there are concepts like "suggestibility," "collective unconscious," and other psychological definitions explaining my feelings back then.
Instead of competing in this new reality for Yanka and me, we went through the stage of first love together. We shared our feelings and experiences, thoughts and ideas. And it was very cool. It's a little funny now to remember what problems tormented us and what decisions we made, but back then, it was all very important and exciting.
We fell out of love with Pashka as quickly as we fell in love. Because another object of adoration replaced him. A third one replaced him, and then we fell in love with different guys. This continued throughout school.
By graduation, our classmates had a wealth of experience with the male population. But Yanka and I remained romantic girls. And we weren't worried about it at all. We, just like our classmates, had fun, went to discos, parties, birthdays, hikes, traveled to competitions and camps. But in those moments when another girl, falling into a guy's embrace, would start to melt and, succumbing to feelings, forget about everything in the world, surrender, we watched out for each other and didn't allow ourselves to "lose our heads."
One day, Yanka and I met Roma. Last weekend we celebrated Yanka's coming of age. And on Monday, we felt a bit sluggish, so we decided to just take a walk around the evening city. We walked around the city, chatting about our girly problems, sipping canned beer that Yanka had swiped from her father's supplies at home. We weren't beer lovers, or alcohol in general. We only drank on special occasions and in small amounts. But today I had argued with my parents about my rights and my "very rapid growing up."
Two cans of the hoppy drink and Yanka's witty jokes did their job. I felt better, and life became beautiful again. I wanted adventures and new sensations. The most dangerous state for a young girl at such a tender age. And today I was also in a "rebellious" mood, caused by emotions from my father's lectures that hadn't cooled down yet and heightened by the canned beer. I even purposely wore my "sex outfit" for the outing today, intended exclusively for discos and apartment parties. A short, loose skirt, a tight-fitting top. This outfit always put my dad on the verge of a heart attack, my mom predicted pregnancy, and males were in undisguised delight. When I went out for the walk, even Yanka whistled.
— Aren't you overdoing it, friend? We're going for a walk around the city, not to a party. Maybe wear something simpler?
— I want it this way!
— Your skirt is see-through and your panties are visible! All the city cables will come running now!
— So what! I'm sick of walking around like a nun!
— Well, as you wish. If anything, I warned you.
Yanka herself was in jeans and a colorful T-shirt. She was always embarrassed about her "fat" thighs. Even I couldn't convince her otherwise and prove that her legs were perfectly fine.
Indeed, my outfit attracted the attentive gazes of males to our pair like a magnet. Everyone who was or still was capable of arousal in their pants looked at me and assessed me. And it stressed me out terribly. I really didn't like being an object of desire and feeling lustful looks on me. Inside, I was all tense, but outwardly I continued to smile and demonstratively swayed my butt. I did everything out of spite, as if trying to hurt my father with my disgraceful behavior. Let him find out and understand that yesterday I behaved well! I can be a very bad girl!
Several times, guys "rolled up" to us wanting to get acquainted, but we "brushed them off" with laughter and jokes. It was so funny to watch the attempts of young males to approach and "chat us up." Even older guys got lost and nervous, and demonstratively acted brave, approaching us, throwing out well-rehearsed pickup lines. But Yanka very quickly and skillfully knocked them out of their usual behavior pattern by asking some unexpected question.
We invented this game this year. At a disco or somewhere else where guys approached us to get acquainted, in response to their greeting or "signature move," we would ask the contender for our attention and time some unexpected question and watch their reaction. It looked something like this.
— Hi! My name is Vadik! What's yours?
— Hi, Vadik! Why did you approach me? Because I'm beautiful and you wanted me? Think you can handle someone like me?
The response was always an astonished look or some not very coherent mumbling. Yanka and I would start laughing, the guy would retreat. These amusements especially pleased Yanka, but I felt sorry for the "losers." And now, guys attracted by my outfit ran into Yanka's "jabs" and humbly stepped aside.
Yanka and I were already thinking about where to go to sit down and give our legs a rest when a car stopped near us.
— Hi, girls! Don't want to go for a ride with some cool guys?
A guy around 20-25 years old was looking at us with a smile. It was clear the offer was more of a joke and a reason to get acquainted.
— We only ride in Mercedes.
Yanka decided to tease the guy this way.
— Really, only in Mercedes?
— Really-really!
The guy smiled slyly and the car drove away. Yanka and I continued our walk, discussing this incident. We speculated about who that guy was, what he might do, how old he was, and other things, approaching our favorite bench in the park. Suddenly, a car stops right in front of us again.
— Well, here's a Mercedes! Let's go!
The same guy was looking at us again, smiling. This time he was indeed in a Mercedes-brand car. Yanka wanted to object, but then I couldn't hold back and laughed.
— Let's go!
Actually, I have strict rules and don't fall for such offers, but today I clearly wanted to "show off." Yanka looked at me in surprise and twirled her finger near her temple.
— Have you completely lost your mind, friend?! What do you mean let's go?! Where are we going?! With whom are we going?!
Of course, she was absolutely and unconditionally right! On all points, including doubting my mental health. But I couldn't be reasoned with or stopped. I just needed a brick to the head, and maybe then I would have come to my senses. Yanka, apparently, was about to do something like that, but then the guy got out of the car.
— My name is Roman! My friend, who is shyly hiding behind the wheel, is Viktor. We invite you for a car ride through the evening streets of our wonderful city, as a first acquaintance. We'll just drive, chat, and get to know each other! The result of our joint journey should be a good attitude towards each other, mutual sympathy, and perhaps a promise to meet tomorrow. I'm sure you'll agree to such an adventure that doesn't obligate you to anything, which will please our and Viktor's souls and entertain such lovely ladies!
This was the first time Yanka and I listened to a guy with our mouths open in surprise. We hadn't heard such long and meaningful speeches from guys before. Taking advantage of our confusion, Romka opened the car door, took Yanka by the hand, and she, as if hypnotized, obediently got in. Naturally, I got in after Yanka.
And we drove off! Viktor turned out not to be so shy. He immediately adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see us, and we could see his face. He had an amazing, mesmerizing smile. Probably, it was all about the eyes. They were light blue. Even though it was dark inside the car, I was absolutely sure of the color of his eyes. Viktor also greeted us cheerfully and just as casually as Roman, conversed with us.
Our new acquaintances were both 25 years old. Both worked at our factory. Romka was an engineer in the assembly shop, and Viktor was even the head of that shop. And for some reason, Yanka and I believed it. Probably, it was all about the lexicon of our acquaintances. It was so unusual and unfamiliar to hear words that Yanka and I only read in books and heard in movies. They didn't utter a single swear word during the entire conversation, neither of them stumbled in the conversation or tried to search for a word for a long time. Wow, that was so cool!
We drove around for about an hour. During that time, we really became friends. Neither I nor Yanka felt constrained or tense. On the contrary, we felt ease and freedom in communicating with the guys. The guys had won our trust so much that we agreed to their proposal to end our first date with a joint coffee/tea party and "milk for the night." We were already approaching the cafe when, overwhelmed by feelings, I suddenly blurted out that such an acquaintance couldn't be washed down with tea, but with cognac. Viktor immediately responded that he agreed, that "it's still early," and turned the car around.
— Huh?! Where are we going?!
Yanka was not thrilled with my excessive attempts to find trouble. She, more than I, retained clarity of thought.
— I have excellent cognac at home. Romka and I are more vodka lovers, but people give us cognacs. Here's a chance to taste it.
— I was joking! No cognac needed! Let's do as you wanted—have some coffee!
I would have been happy to drink some cognac with the guys; it fit perfectly into the concept of my behavior today called "revenge on dad," but I didn't want to anger Yanka. Even though the guys inspired trust, Yanka was clearly not thrilled with the offer to go to their house. All stories about rapes started exactly with this—the stupid behavior of the victims themselves. We had already gone too far today. If dad found out I got into a car with strange men—he would kill me! Yanka's dad, though kinder, would punish her just as cruelly.
— Don't chicken out, girls! My apartment is in the center, it's not far from your houses! And we won't get you drunk with one bottle! And it's not Friday today.
— What does Friday have to do with it?
— We only kidnap, rape, and kill girls on Fridays!!!
Viktor said this in such an intentionally scary and gloomy voice that we couldn't hold back and laughed, and all our fears vanished at once. Really, what's the big deal if we drop into a "bachelor's den" for half an hour and drink the promised expensive cognac?
— And here's the hero of the evening!
Viktor brought a bottle of cognac, large glasses, sliced cheese, apples, and chocolate from the kitchen. While Viktor was setting everything up, Romka uncorked the bottle. The fragrant liquid poured into the crystalware intended for it. Romka, while pouring the cognac, managed to tell us the story of how he got this cognac and how to drink it correctly. I had never drunk cognac before. And I really wanted to taste it.
— First, you need to drink a cup of brewed coffee! And only then the cognac!
Viktor grunted approvingly and went to the kitchen, from where the buzzing of a coffee maker was heard, and the aroma of coffee wafted into the room.
While Viktor was conjuring in the kitchen, Roman entertained us with an exciting story about how he drank cognac in Paris. In general, he and Viktor traveled a lot together.
— Don't think we're gay! It's just more convenient and fun for us that way. And we always find girls in the countries we travel to. Sorry for the openness, but that's our hobby. We decided we'd get married after 30, or if we fall very much in love. Viktor almost got hitched a year ago, but came to his senses in time.
— Why in time?
— Yeah, yeah! Romka is such a bastard! Ruined my whole life! I'd be living with a fool and having a blast now!
The coffee turned out very aromatic and tasty.
— And now, take the glasses and swirl them so the cognac gets a little shaken and spreads along the walls!
Yanka and I enthusiastically followed these instructions. The drink was dark brown, looking beautiful in our glasses.
— Now take it and look at the glass through the drink. We should see our fingerprints on the opposite wall. If we see them clearly, the cognac is of good quality.
— Oh! I see them!
— So the cognac is pure. Now let's smell it. What does it smell like?
— Mine smells like apricot and vanilla!
— Mine smells like linden, I think!
— Well, then it's definitely good if it doesn't smell like cheap booze! Now drink in small sips. One, then feel the taste, enjoy it, then the second, feel the taste again, then you can eat an apple.
— What about lemon? My dad snacks on lemon!
— You only snack on lemon with bad cognac, but if you're drinking good cognac, lemon kills its taste.
I took a small sip and began to dutifully wait for the sensations. It was very unusual but pleasant to feel how the drink burned, warmed, and spread in my mouth and throat. The taste was pleasant, but I liked the aftertaste even more.
— Yeah. After this, you won't want to drink vodka or beer. Such a pleasant drink.
— Well, see, and you didn't want to! Now the second sip, it'll be cool too!
Indeed, the cognac seemed even brighter to me than on the first sip. We shared our sensations again and had a bite of apple.
— Well, and now we need to smoke a cigar! But since we don't smoke and don't allow others to, let's just talk. What are you studying, what do you want to do in life?
Next, we started a conversation about the future