Phone conversations
Sun, summer, coffee, and constant "achtungs." However, the weekend is over, time to head back to the city; work isn't a wolf—it won't run off into the woods, unfortunately, but the boss might well grab you by the protruding parts and cut your finances a bit. Not very good, though. Although I could whine to the boss that I haven't been on vacation for almost a year and a half, and I've accumulated a week's worth of time off, it makes sense to complain. Anyway, I need to go to the city, get some useful things done, and then a week of rest. Lyokha, my companion in bed games, probably won't be pleased, but on the other hand, it's time to know when to stop; he's more needed by the Motherland than by me these days.
— Go ahead, — he said.
No, of course I wanted to be let go without any arguments, but with such disregard... What a bastard! Probably won't even miss me...
— I will. With one hand I'll hold your photo, with the other I'll miss you. — he assured me. Well, to hell with you, I'm not an echo after all, to give myself away so much; my legs will stop moving soon at this rate.
Anyway, I left for Moscow in a not-so-great mood. I barged into the apartment, somewhat surprised to find the flowers on the windowsill hadn't wilted from the heat, took a shower, called the boss. They unexpectedly let me go for a whole two weeks, though they asked me to come by the next day to hand over my duties. A sweet deal is shaping up, just where to go, that's the question...
The phone distracted me from my thoughts. Well, there you go, didn't even have time to settle back in. It's my friend Lyolya bothering me, no one else, the rest, like decent people, have been on vacation for ages.
— You won't believe it!!!
Me? I'll believe it, where the hell else would I go.
— A traffic cop took my license yesterday!!!
— Were you driving as usual, unbuckled, on the wrong side of the road, through a red light, in reverse? And without a first-aid kit?
— Oh, screw you!!! Actually no, I need you like air, I have a ticket going to waste here. Let's go to "Belki" tonight!!! We'll have fun, meet someone!
And what, I wonder, will I be doing there. Concerts of such bands are usually attended by youth of draft age, and draft age—meaning easily, due to hormones, responding to the call of barely covered busts and knees. Lyolya appreciates that age, even though she left it about 7 years ago. But there's no accounting for taste. They (the youth), she thinks, are all so hot and sensual. Forgot to explain, Lyolya Alexandrovna is a passionate lady, and generally believes that March 8th should be moved to the 11th, saying two holes are irrelevant, better two sticks.
— I'll drive you back home!!!
Yeah, drunk, in reverse and through a red light. Stop...
— But your license was taken away.
— I got it back, — she giggled — guess how.
— Gave him some money? — I guessed. That's right, the striped baton workers probably have a promotion—collect 10 five-hundreds and get your license back.
— No, you're such a down-to-earth person... Anyway, listen! This cute little sergeant stops me, all handsome, dimples on his cheeks, blondie. (Note here, Lyolya is crazy about blonds, like a louse on a comb). So he starts picking on me. Like, where are we rushing and all that. So I tell him—rushing home.
— Through two solid lines? — he was surprised.
— Where are there two solid lines here? Oh, really two...
— Your license!
— Here you go, — answered Lyolya and gave it. Her license, I mean.
— Let's go to the car to fill out a little report..
They went. His partner is sitting in the car, a brunette actually, but also not bad.
— Tsk-tsk-tsk, young lady, breaking the rules... You're facing suspension.
— There's nothing left to suspend me from. Maybe we can come to an agreement? — Lyolya smiled and placed her palm on the blond's fly, who was sitting behind the wheel.
— We can agree. — he whispered. Lyolya climbed over, pulled down her skirt, while the sergeant moved to the back, unzipped his partner's pants, aimed, and sat on his lap, smoothly moving her hips. With her hand, she took out the sergeant's member and smoothly began moving her palm up — down, not forgetting to moan languidly and roll her eyes. After sitting on one for a bit, Lyolya smoothly switched partners and started repeating the same thing. The men groaned softly and moved in rhythm with her hand and body.
— And then what? — I asked.
— Got my fill of riding and f*cking, — Lyolya boasted — took my license, waved goodbye, and went on my way. In short, satisfied, fresh, rosy-cheeked, and ready for new exploits. Anyway, get ready, I'll pick you up in an hour. Smack!
I hung up and started getting ready. Vacation starts tomorrow, gotta celebrate.
P.S. This text does not aim to offend traffic police officers, Lyolya Alexandrovna, or the band "Belki." Any coincidences are accidental.