Resort Life by Oldman. Holiday romance, or a small sin of an exemplary wife

resort life

Part one

If you happen to be born in an empire, it is better to live in a remote province by the sea. Approximately such lines came to my mind when we got off the bus. The settlement was a typical example of a deaf, by local standards, province. Well, taking into account what exactly is considered a wilderness on the Black Sea coast. A small village in which every barn in the summer is rented out to people who come in large numbers from the more northern regions of the homeland. Father picked up the suitcases and led us in the direction of the sea, easily identified by the smell. Somewhere there we were already waiting for "An excellent house, near the beach, and inexpensively!", Which was recommended to my father by one of my friends. So we drove, having previously phoned the owners and knowing exactly where we would live.

We were expected. The hostess, grandma is very advanced years, showed us a hefty shed with windows at the far end of the yard, almost hidden by overgrown bushes:

Won. . You will live there... Just don't mix it up - your door is on the left.

Upon closer inspection, the barn was clearly dual-use. I mean, it was split in half, um. . apartments. In ours there was one large room with three beds - my sister and I each had a large one, a wardrobe and bedside tables, a small entrance hall, she, due to the presence of a table and an electric stove, a kitchen ... and that's it. I honestly expected more from the enthusiastic descriptions. The second half of the barn, apparently, was exactly the same. As Grandma said, they already live there, but now they are on the beach.

We also went to the beach. The first inconvenience was immediately revealed - in order for my mother and sister to change clothes, my father and I were kicked out into the street.

Nothing, we'll be back - we'll open the closet across with you. - Dad promised - There will be at least some semblance of two rooms.

In general, this did not spoil the mood at all. At sea we last time I did and I don't remember when. That time was not enough, then money ... This time everything turned out well, besides, Ritka and I were in next year finished school - that is, the exam, admission and all that. In general, it will not be up to rest for sure.

The beach, of course, also turned out to be rustic. Just a strip of sand overgrown with withered grass stretching along the sea for a hundred meters. Along the edges, the coast rose, turning into a cliff, leaving a narrow rocky strip near the water, completely unsuitable for recreation. There were enough people, though. Man so fifteen sprawled out on towels in different poses, exposing the sun to varying degrees of tanning of the body. A certain amount splashed in the water, which surprised me with its transparency. Well, yes, there is no one to spoil. Of course, Ritka and I took a dip first. Mom and dad at that time arranged a bed for us, and then changed us in the water. I collapsed belly up and began to look at the surrounding people. Rita did the same.

F-f-fuuu ... - she gave out after a while - Not a single decent guy!

And at home this one is yours ... how is it ... Dimka seems ... decent or what?

Dimka, Lately hovering around my sister, did not arouse my sympathy.

Compare too ... At least better than some! She poked me in the side with her fist.

I must say, contrary to popular belief about twins, Ritka and I were not particularly close. From a certain age, she began to have her girlfriends and interests, I have my own company. So I knew little about Dimka and therefore did not argue.

Well, move! Relax here! I heard my father's voice.

She and her mother silently approached, finding that my sister and I had taken all the space prepared for four. Mom, with her hands on her hips, stood in front of me, expressing indignation with her whole appearance. Purely out of spite, I was in no hurry to make room for them, brazenly staring at her, involuntarily appreciating my mother's figure against the background of a pale blue sky. The hair collected at the back of the head revealed a beautiful neck, a heavy chest, supported by a swimsuit, protruded forward, a belly, rounded and convex, at the bottom smoothly turned into a pubis hidden by panties. Further, the panties went between the legs in a wide strip, preventing the hips from closing at the very top, but below, the plump hips touched each other, tapering to the knees and turning into beautiful ankles. I thought about Ritka - it turned out that, minus age, they were very similar. The proportions of the body, the manner of holding on ... Only Rita's forms were much more modest, well, yes, they will probably appear with age. My thoughts were interrupted by my father, unceremoniously rolling my sister and me apart.

That's better! - parents lay down between us, almost forcing us onto the grass.

Well, okay! Rita jumped up. - Fed, let's go into the water!

In the evening we met with neighbors. The family turned out to be very similar to ours, even the son, Mishka, turned out to be about our age, but his sister Ira is a little older. Not much, for a year or two. The exact age, of course, no one began to find out. On the occasion of the acquaintance, a feast was arranged, to which the hostess was also invited. Grandma willingly agreed, participating with a hefty bottle of wine of her own making. At the same time, another inhabitant of our yard, whom we did not suspect, turned out to be at the table - grandma's granddaughters. The guy was traditionally sent here from childhood for the summer, and he was tired of it for a long time. However, having entered the institute, he had not been here for three years, and now he arrived, deciding to remember his youth. Now, judging by his appearance, he regretted it greatly.

In the company of our ancestors, we spent hardly an hour. Then their conversations about life in this heavenly place (according to some vacationers) or in this godforsaken hole (according to local residents) we are fed up. The youth moved to the grass near the fence, where, however, we also began to ask Oleg how he lives here. The granddaughter complained uncontrollably about life. As it turned out, earlier every year a warm company of people like him gathered here and it was fun. Now everyone has grown up, graduated from school and moved away in all directions, categorically not wanting to return to their former lives. This year, out of a company of ten people, there were only two of them here - he and some other Igor. He was lured here by Oleg, himself driven by an attack of nostalgia and infected his friend with it, for which he now listened to a lot of reproaches every day. In a word, sadness. We sympathized loudly and nodded, agreeing with his every word, along the way trying to figure out what kind of entertainment there is.

Yes, no, in general ... I suffer myself. Well, do you want to go swimming? he suggested. - Now is the time - the sun has set, the water is warm, there is no one on the beach ...

The sea was indeed warm. Plenty of sloshing around, we got ashore, shivering from the evening coolness.

Swimming trunks need to be squeezed out. And swimwear. - suggested Oleg. - We'll freeze.

What, right here? Rita didn't understand.

Well ... - Oleg understood what she wanted to say. - We are here, and you can go there, under the cliff. Nobody will see.

The indicated cliff was on the edge of the beach.

Yeees...? - Irka peered into the darkness. - Is there no one there?

Nobody. Who could be there?

No, I'm afraid...

Do you want me to go with you? Oleg suggested.

Here's another! So that I by a stranger went to a place where it's so scary?

Ir, can Fedka come with us? Rita suggested. - I know him.

Iruka looked at me:

Let's go...

They left me at the very edge, instructing me to turn away and not turn around for anything, while they themselves went a few steps further. I struggled with myself for a long time, looking in the opposite direction from them, but then I nevertheless turned to the sea, pretending to look at the waves lazily rolling on the shore. Squinting a little to the left, I found that the girls were undressing, turning their backs to me, and then I openly stared in their direction. They, bending down a little, diligently twisted their bathing suits. At dusk, the girlish buttocks turned white, the thin Ritkins, it seems, did not even touch each other and the more rounded Irkins. Irka already had a trace of sunburn. In addition, turning slightly sideways, she showed me her right breasts. More precisely, only the shape of an untanned cone looking forward and down. All attempts to see what they have between their legs have failed - dark and far away. I admired for a short time - as soon as they began to dress, I took the original position.

I take the liberty of placing in one file several stories of Hasek about his stay as the commandant of the city of Bugulma, in Udmurtia in the Urals. And then separately stories from this cycle, such as " procession", occurring here, without the previous ones, are practically meaningless ... let them be, of course, but not understandable. The request of the moderators to condescend - maybe some rules have been violated, but I don’t see another way to put it here full cycle about Bugulma ... Borrowed from the "Collected Works" by J. Gashek (I don’t remember the year, I don’t remember 5 - or 6 - volumes, ...

I was able to tell Cassie Harty everything

Little Cassie always knew that her mother did not love her. "I didn't want to have you. You ruined my whole life. You, you ruined everything, ”these words of the mother haunted the girl from the very beginning. early age. Day after day, the mother never tired of repeating to her daughter that she was superfluous in this family, that no one needed her. An unwanted child, an unloved daughter, causing only disgust ... Cassie had no one to complain to, no one to rely on. Only Godfather seemed to the girl very kind and caring. She called him Uncle Bill, even though he was not her uncle. An adult friend is always...

All stories about the Iroquois Vladimir Peremolotov

I have always loved History, but I was annoyed by the fact that in our country it fluctuated in accordance with the necessity of a given historical moment. THEN it fluctuated along with the lines of the party, NOW - in accordance with the instructions of the President. Because of this instability, I felt sorry for myself and historians (how can you study something that, instead of lying quietly, crawls under your microscope?), but then I realized that our History is a living History. If something has happened to THEM, then it has already happened, but what has already happened to US may well be rethought.…

White and Black (Stories) Leonid Sergeev

The writer's new book contains stories about animals. Some of them are cheerful, they have the joy of communicating with living beings. Others are sad, because we are talking about people who treat animals cruelly. But all the stories are united by the author's concern for the fate of "our smaller brothers." CONTENTS: Buran, Polkan and others Grass at our house By the forester Gray Plutik Anchar Tale for Alyonka White and Black Ginger My friends hedgehog Menagerie in my apartment

Stories from the collection "Strange Candy" by Laurel Hamilton

Laurell Hamilton Stories from the collection "Strange Candy" Someone sees in my stories the premises with a more serious work. Last story, "The Girl Who Loved Death," was selected by my editor for a collection of short stories by mystery writers. So any of my readers could get acquainted with it on a par with the stories of other authors of the anthology. As for the rest of the stories in the collection, they were written...

Roman Tales by Alberto Moravia

Most of the heroes of the novels dream of the same thing: how to get some money. One wants to beg for a hundred thousand lire, another wants to dine at least once for nothing, a third decides to remove a ring from the hand of a rich dead man, a fourth tries to sell fake banknotes, a fifth penetrates the church in order to rob it, a sixth bypasses friends and asks to lend him ten thousand , the seventh tries to hand over an "ancient" coin to passers-by. The women demand money. Sometimes losers want to throw something away, kill a rich man, unleash an offensive existence; But…

Stories by Raphael Lafferty

Collected stories by Raphael Lafferty

The "indescribable" work of Lafferty defies rational analysis. But today everyone agrees that without this author, modern science fiction would noticeably fade. Lafferty's stories only disguise themselves as "simple and easy-to-read stories" - they are always full of secondary plans and hidden meanings. In the bizarre universe of Lafferty, everything is different from our world. Because Lafferty is a visionary at heart, not a cold artisan who writes fiction. And he is also an infectious humorist, although not to say that he is bright and light. And a sophisticated mythmaker. And deep...

Collection of short stories by R. Lafferty

The "indescribable" work of Lafferty defies rational analysis. But today everyone agrees that without this author, modern science fiction would noticeably fade. Lafferty's stories only disguise themselves as "simple and easy-to-read stories" - they are always full of secondary plans and hidden meanings. In the bizarre universe of Lafferty, everything is different from our world. Because Lafferty is a visionary at heart, not a cold artisan who writes fiction. And he is also an infectious humorist, although not to say that he is bright and light. And a sophisticated mythmaker. And deep...

Undefined Undefined

Volume 11. In Rus'. Stories 1912-1917 Maxim Gorky

The eleventh volume included twenty-nine works written by M. Gorky in 1912–1917 and combined by him in 1923 into an art cycle called “Across Rus'”. Cycle in in full force included in all collected works of M. Gorky, published after October revolution. All stories were edited by the author in the preparation of the collected works in the publication "Book" in 1923-1927. http://ruslit.traumlibrary.net

Amy Hempel stories

Amy Hempel was born in Chicago, Illinois. She was one of the first students of Gordon Lish, under whose supervision she released several of her early stories. Lish was so impressed with her talent that he helped her publish her first collection of short stories, Reasons for Living (1985), which included "The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried," her very first story. First published in TriQuarterly in 1983, "The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried" is one of the most widely read short stories of the last quarter of the twentieth century. Hempel released three more collections: "At ...

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Mother Hope and other non-fictional stories Mikhail Ardov

The author conditionally divided the documentary stories into three parts. The first is short stories about people who survived tragic events the first half of the XX century. In the second part - stories from the life of the Russian hinterland, recorded by the author in the 70s. In the third part - memories of two wonderful people old Russian emigration; these are Bishop Gregory (Count Yuri Pavlovich Grabbe) and Princess Vera, daughter of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich.

The author is the same Barshchevsky Mikhail

Mikhail Barshchevsky today is one of the most famous and successful Russian lawyers. Founder of the first law office in Russia, representative of the Government of the Russian Federation in the highest federal courts, professor, frequent guest of central television channels and popular radio stations, and also the star of the What? Where? When?". The literary debut of Mikhail Barshchevsky - a collection of short stories "Author" - was released at the end of 2005. Among the short stories that made it up, readers remembered a series of stories about a young lawyer Vadim Osipov. The reader meets a very young ...

"Your name is a quarter past three?" - the second collection of works of science fiction literature, published in the Ural Library of Travel, Adventures and science fiction". The first - the stories of the young Sverdlovsk writers Mikhail and Larisa Nemchenko "Flying to the Brothers" - was released in 1964 and was warmly received by readers and critics. Authors with different registration of residence participate in this collection: M. and L. Nemchenko, V. Krapivin , I. Davydov, V. Slukin and E. Kartashev - from Sverdlovsk, A. Sheikin - from Leningrad, I. Rosokhovatsky - from Kiev, S. Gansovsky ...

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resort life

Part one

If you happen to be born in an empire, it is better to live in a remote province by the sea. Approximately such lines came to my mind when we got off the bus. The settlement was a typical example of a deaf, by local standards, province. Well, taking into account what exactly is considered a wilderness on the Black Sea coast. A small village in which every barn in the summer is rented out to people who come in large numbers from the more northern regions of the homeland. Father picked up the suitcases and led us in the direction of the sea, easily identified by the smell. Somewhere there we were already waiting for "An excellent house, near the beach, and inexpensively!", Which was recommended to my father by one of my friends. So we drove, having previously phoned the owners and knowing exactly where we would live.

We were expected. The hostess, a grandmother of very advanced years, showed us a hefty barn with windows at the far end of the yard, almost hidden by overgrown bushes:

Won. . You will live there... Just don't mix it up - your door is on the left.

Upon closer inspection, the barn was clearly dual-use. I mean, it was split in half, um. . apartments. In ours there was one large room with three beds - my sister and I each had a large one, a wardrobe and bedside tables, a small entrance hall, she, due to the presence of a table and an electric stove, a kitchen ... and that's it. I honestly expected more from the enthusiastic descriptions. The second half of the barn, apparently, was exactly the same. As Grandma said, they already live there, but now they are on the beach.

We also went to the beach. The first inconvenience was immediately revealed - in order for my mother and sister to change clothes, my father and I were kicked out into the street.

Nothing, we'll be back - we'll open the closet across with you. - Dad promised - There will be at least some semblance of two rooms.

In general, this did not spoil the mood at all. The last time we were at sea, I don’t remember when. That time was not enough, then money ... This time everything turned out well, besides, Ritka and I graduated from school next year - that is, the Unified State Examination, admission and all that. In general, it will not be up to rest for sure.

The beach, of course, also turned out to be rustic. Just a strip of sand overgrown with withered grass stretching along the sea for a hundred meters. Along the edges, the coast rose, turning into a cliff, leaving a narrow rocky strip near the water, completely unsuitable for recreation. There were enough people, though. About fifteen people fell apart on towels in different poses, exposing the sun to varying degrees of tanning of the body. A certain amount splashed in the water, which surprised me with its transparency. Well, yes, there is no one to spoil. Of course, Ritka and I took a dip first. Mom and dad at that time arranged a bed for us, and then changed us in the water. I collapsed belly up and began to look at the surrounding people. Rita did the same.

F-f-fuuu ... - she gave out after a while - Not a single decent guy!

And at home this one is yours ... how is it ... Dimka seems ... decent or what?

Dimka, who had recently been hanging around his sister, did not arouse my sympathy.

Compare too ... At least better than some! She poked me in the side with her fist.

I must say, contrary to popular belief about twins, Ritka and I were not particularly close. From a certain age, she began to have her girlfriends and interests, I have my own company. So I knew little about Dimka and therefore did not argue.

Well, move! Relax here! I heard my father's voice.

She and her mother silently approached, finding that my sister and I had taken all the space prepared for four. Mom, with her hands on her hips, stood in front of me, expressing indignation with her whole appearance. Purely out of spite, I was in no hurry to make room for them, brazenly staring at her, involuntarily appreciating my mother's figure against the background of a pale blue sky. The hair collected at the back of the head revealed a beautiful neck, a heavy chest, supported by a swimsuit, protruded forward, a belly, rounded and convex, at the bottom smoothly turned into a pubis hidden by panties. Further, the panties went between the legs in a wide strip, preventing the hips from closing at the very top, but below, the plump hips touched each other, tapering to the knees and turning into beautiful ankles. I thought about Ritka - it turned out that, minus age, they were very similar. The proportions of the body, the manner of holding on ... Only Rita's forms were much more modest, well, yes, they will probably appear with age. My thoughts were interrupted by my father, unceremoniously rolling my sister and me apart.

That's better! - parents lay down between us, almost forcing us onto the grass.

Well, okay! Rita jumped up. - Fed, let's go into the water!

In the evening we met with neighbors. The family turned out to be very similar to ours, even the son, Mishka, turned out to be about our age, but his sister Ira is a little older. Not much, for a year or two. The exact age, of course, no one began to find out. On the occasion of the acquaintance, a feast was arranged, to which the hostess was also invited. Grandma willingly agreed, participating with a hefty bottle of wine of her own making. At the same time, another inhabitant of our yard, whom we did not suspect, turned out to be at the table - grandma's granddaughters. The guy was traditionally sent here from childhood for the summer, and he was tired of it for a long time. However, having entered the institute, he had not been here for three years, and now he arrived, deciding to remember his youth. Now, judging by his appearance, he regretted it greatly.

In the company of our ancestors, we spent hardly an hour. Then their conversations about life in this heavenly place (according to some vacationers) or in this godforsaken hole (according to local residents) we got tired. The youth moved to the grass near the fence, where, however, we also began to ask Oleg how he lives here. The granddaughter complained uncontrollably about life. As it turned out, earlier every year a warm company of people like him gathered here and it was fun. Now everyone has grown up, graduated from school and moved away in all directions, categorically not wanting to return to their former lives. This year, out of a company of ten people, there were only two of them here - he and some other Igor. He was lured here by Oleg, himself driven by an attack of nostalgia and infected his friend with it, for which he now listened to a lot of reproaches every day. In a word, sadness. We sympathized loudly and nodded, agreeing with his every word, along the way trying to figure out what kind of entertainment there is.

Yes, no, in general ... I suffer myself. Well, do you want to go swimming? he suggested. - Now is the time - the sun has set, the water is warm, there is no one on the beach ...

The sea was indeed warm. Plenty of sloshing around, we got ashore, shivering from the evening coolness.

Swimming trunks need to be squeezed out. And swimwear. - suggested Oleg. - We'll freeze.

What, right here? Rita didn't understand.

Well ... - Oleg understood what she wanted to say. - We are here, and you can go there, under the cliff. Nobody will see.

The indicated cliff was on the edge of the beach.

Yeees...? - Irka peered into the darkness. - Is there no one there?

Nobody. Who could be there?

No, I'm afraid...

Do you want me to go with you? Oleg suggested.

Here's another! So that I go with a stranger to a place where it’s already so scary?

Ir, can Fedka come with us? Rita suggested. - I know him.

Iruka looked at me:

Let's go...

They left me at the very edge, instructing me to turn away and not turn around for anything, while they themselves went a few steps further. I struggled with myself for a long time, looking in the opposite direction from them, but then I nevertheless turned to the sea, pretending to look at the waves lazily rolling on the shore. Squinting a little to the left, I found that the girls were undressing, turning their backs to me, and then I openly stared in their direction. They, bending down a little, diligently twisted their bathing suits. At dusk, the girlish buttocks turned white, the thin Ritkins, it seems, did not even touch each other and the more rounded Irkins. Irka already had a trace of sunburn. In addition, turning slightly sideways, she showed me her right breasts. More precisely, only the shape of an untanned cone looking forward and down. All attempts to see what they have between their legs have failed - dark and far away. I admired for a short time - as soon as they began to dress, I took the original position.

In the spring of 1999, I came to the editorial office of the SCH-Stolitsa newspaper and brought the story "The Death of the Belyash King." After the publication of the newspaper, the public liked the story so much that I began to write further, trying to make each story look like a real report from the life of the city. And people believed that everything that was written actually happened, and alarmed townspeople called the editorial office all day long. People passed newspaper sheets to each other, and they passed from hand to hand, and the fame of them went far beyond the redistribution of Cheboksary. "He's not Stephen King yet, but reading his stories...

Stories by William Faulkner

The Thirteen (1930) Victory of Ad Astra All of them are dead, those old pilots Cleft Red leaves A rose for Emily Justice Hair When the night falls Dry September Mistral Divorce in Naples Carcassonne Dr. Martino (1934) Smoke Full circle Wash Come down, Moses (1942) Was Fire and hearth Black harlequinade Old men Autumn in the delta Knight's move (1949) A hand outstretched on the waters A mistake in chemical formula Seven stories (1950) Arsonist Tall people Bear hunting Mule in the yard ...

Requiems (Stories) Lyudmila Petrushevskaya

The cycle of stories "Requiems" introduces the reader to the problem of death as a separate, independent subject of artistic representation. At the same time, the concept of death is considered by L. Petrushevskaya in various manifestations. This is the death of marital love (“I love you”), and the collapse of the bright hopes of youth, the loss of life optimism (“Jewish Verochka”), and the dying of the soul, spiritual degradation (“Lady with Dogs”), and the loss of compassion for someone else’s misfortune (“ Who will answer?"

The Sorcerer in October (collection of short stories) Mikhail Babkin

The collection "Sorcerer in October" includes 12 short stories Mikhail Babkin. All of them are about how magic breaks into our everyday life without asking and what comes of it. Accordingly, among the characters - the most ordinary people- suddenly there are fairies, demons, sorcerers, Santa Claus, the snake Ermungand and even V.I. Lenin himself.

Terrible tales about Shgara. Story Five: “Oh… Rustam Niyazov

Despite the fact that in this story about the glorious city of Shgar, we will talk about a completely different city, no less glorious, scary tale will not become more gratifying, and the thought of how strong is our habit of judging loved ones, not giving them the opportunity to defend themselves from our judgment - this thought depresses, without a doubt ...

Stories of the Hedgehog Victor Dan

This book is about the adventures of the Hedgehog. In his stories, the Hedgehog will share his life observations and conclusions from meetings with the inhabitants of the garden and its environs: the Mistress, Worm, Uzh, Magpie and many others. For preschool and toddlers school age, as well as for adults who will read the book to children and grandchildren.

Stories, feuilletons, pamphlets Yaroslav Gashek

The first volume of the Works of the Czech writer Yaroslav Hasek (1883-1923) includes stories, feuilletons, and pamphlets written in 1901-1908. Translation from Czech Compilation and notes by S. V. Nikolsky The text is printed according to the publication: Gashek Yaroslav. Collected works in six volumes. T1.– M.: Fiction, 1983.

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

« The Canterbury Tales» English poet Geoffrey Chaucer (1340? - 1400) - one of the first literary monuments in a single common English language. The book clearly showed the remarkable qualities of Chaucer's humanism: an optimistic life-affirmation, an interest in specific person, a sense of social justice, nationality and democracy. The Canterbury Tales is a framed collection of short stories. Based on the pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury, Chaucer painted wide canvas English reality...

White and Black (Stories) Leonid Sergeev

The writer's new book contains stories about animals. Some of them are cheerful, they have the joy of communicating with living beings. Others are sad, because we are talking about people who treat animals cruelly. But all the stories are united by the author's concern for the fate of "our smaller brothers." CONTENTS: Buran, Polkan and others Grass at our house By the forester Gray Plutik Anchar Tale for Alyonka White and Black Ginger My friends hedgehog Menagerie in my apartment

Pirx's story Stanislav Lem

Pirx is back in flight. Towing scrap iron from Mercury orbit is not the best thing interesting activity. Especially if the crew is assembled from a pine forest. But even in such an ordinary flight, a completely unexpected meeting is possible. And you have to decide what to do with her, with this meeting ... © Jolly Roger "Tales of Pilot Pirx" - 7 - Pirx's Story / Opowiadanie Pirxa [= Guest from the Abyss: Pirx's Story] (1965)

The life of a dog and a cat. Novels and short stories by Vladimir Svintsov

To four-legged friends: shaggy and smooth-haired, tailed and tailless, lop-eared and not, and most of all to their loving owners - this book. Contents: To my friends - shaggy and eared ... STORIES LIFE OF A DOG The owner went to war On a duck flight A childhood dream A link in a chain Hello from home A test of viciousness One day in the life of a dog Diana the hunter Ermut triangle John Erhard Kopani Unsmiling Maria Vasilievna Wise decision True heart Tommy Baba Manya and the Tiger Ball striped How to raise a hostess LIFE OF A CAT Baron Our ...

I woke up in the morning in a great mood. The fear of not getting enough sleep in a new place, fortunately, was not confirmed. Lying inspected the room, it was quite comfortable and spacious. The room turned out to be a double, but my neighbor was not there yet.

I had never been to a sanatorium before, and then the management of our company decided to reward me with a ticket for many years of conscientious work. I didn’t want to go right away, but my husband and children insisted on rest.

I opened the balcony and breathed in the fresh scent of the forest. It was quiet and warm, and opposite me, on a thick pine branch, a squirrel was sitting. She didn't seem to notice me, nibbled something holding her paws, and then suddenly ran away abruptly. I smiled and thought that I might like it here. In addition, my digestive system has long demanded attention. And there is never time to heal. Here it will be: diet, treatment, rehabilitation after corporate parties at work.

After breakfast, I returned to the room, and even outside the door I realized that there was someone there.

Oh hello! exclaimed a pretty woman in her forties. - I am your new neighbor, my name is Natalya Petrovna. Do not you mind?

Yes, how can I object, please settle down!

I was glad that I would not be here alone, and the neighbor was pleasant in appearance. The minus seemed later, she turned out to be very talkative. Even redundant. But there was nowhere to go, I had to listen to everything about my husband, adult children, annoying mother-in-law and black cat Stepan, a sloth and a wretch.

Are there many men here? she suddenly asked.
I don't know, I didn't pay attention.
- But I always pay, it's not the first time I've been to a sanatorium, and I always find myself interesting company She playfully winked and smiled.

I remembered this phrase already in the evening, when a gray-haired man came into our room, embarrassed. He brought a box of chocolates and flowers, similar to what I thought I saw in the flower bed behind our building.

No, no, and don't think of refusing," Natalya Petrovna chirped, looking at me, "look what I brought with me!" It is necessary to mark the beginning and get to know each other better.

I glanced at the set table: a misted bottle of vodka, sausage, caviar, and a jar of small, pickled, home-made tomatoes. The smell of chopped sausage and brine hit my nose. “Oh, well, this diet!” I thought. The guest's face broke into a smile, and he looked like a March cat. But I quickly let him know that I was participating in the feast only as an interlocutor. Therefore, he showered compliments on Natalya Petrovna all evening.

And the conclusion that I was lucky with the company, I rethought over the next week. Receiving guests every evening and late sleep decently exhausted. I had already planned to talk about this with Natalya Petrovna, but I kept postponing the conversation. On Sunday after breakfast, imperceptibly, as I then thought, I ran away from the annoying neighbor, wanting to take a walk in silence. And after walking enough and picking up words for a serious conversation, she returned back. Our building seemed to me rows of identical balconies and colored curtains. Suddenly, a man came out to one of them, he fussed, holding something in his hands, and was completely naked. I stopped behind a tree, not wanting to embarrass him with my gaze. What was in his hands turned out to be a towel. The man tried to cover his lower body with it, but the towel obviously did not reach in girth. I caught myself thinking that I was interested in this sight, and looked around to see if anyone was following me. Fortunately, there was no one around.

Suddenly the door to the room opened, loud screams and obscene language were heard. Things flew through the wide open door, hovering in the wind and clinging to the bushes. From the height of the second floor, it was not long to fly, and through the branches I examined men's trousers and shorts, dejectedly hanging on a bird cherry branch.

Only now did the thought dawn on me that I was watching my own balcony. Interest in what is happening has doubled.

Anticipating danger, a naked man climbed over the partition to the neighboring balcony, since they were all interconnected. Pulling the door, he apparently realized that there was no one there, and moved on. Soon a high-pitched female squeal was heard, and I watched with a smile as two women lashed the towels of a naked guest. He in turn walked to the next balcony, no longer even hiding his shame. And then he disappeared, apparently someone let him in after all.

I stood a little longer under the tree, but since the scream was no longer heard, I decided to get up. Natalya Petrovna frantically collected her belongings and rammed her travel bag with them. Under her left eye, I noticed a swelling, and her cheeks shone with tears.

I'm sorry, I thought you weren't coming back soon. Suddenly my husband came for me, - she muttered, hiding her face. And then I watched her from the balcony, running on unstable heels, and hung with bags.

A few days later, a new neighbor, young and pretty, was put in with me. And when she asked if there were many men in the sanatorium, I couldn't help laughing. And she answered that they are enough to make our life not boring.


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