The white strip of the female body… Gently and as gently as possible – I turned my palm around so that the lower part of her foot was right in my palm. But – without breaking contact, with a gentle stroking and touch…
And – she was forced to raise her knee a little more. A light push ran from the very tips of her fingers – there, in the heights – to white…
Again, I decided to look into her eyes. Am I breaking a so carefully constructed overture in our play? Do instincts and ecstasy prevail from a moment of revelation? From the tenderness of touch. Does the game go on? Or is the body already surrendered to the power of feelings and hormones? Femininity – or calculation? Sincerity – or plot?
Not. Her eyes answered me with gratitude…
You are tenderness itself. I am waiting…
The left hand clung to the bar, and the right hand still held a glass with a stick sticking out of it. Only…
The tube is frozen in its motion. Compressed in lips, teeth…
Having jumped out of the glass – spraying drops of liquid on clothes, on hands and on…
To the stocking…
If we were not in the middle of the restaurant, sitting on tiny banquets at the bar. If it weren’t – the cycle of color and light extravaganza. A flicker of bodies, sounds, and all that is impossible at all.
It might have seemed that a woman had slipped a shoe off her leg and a gracious man gallantly tried to hoist an accidental loss into its rightful place.
Only…
All this happens – with a slowdown a hundred times.
Around – a continuous bustle, and these two – froze in their leisurely dialogue. There is no change of position. She – looks at him, he – holds her leg with his right hand. Leaning a little. Her right hand with a glass – stopped in a slightly unnatural position.
Nobody feels the growing tension, exponentially growing charges of energy. The energy confrontation and saturation to sparking the atmosphere are around the two of us.
It was like a cocoon or an energy field of incredible strength pushed us to each other. Compressing with each of our breaths, compressing, and so on, to a critical mass, the «pumped up» and warmed up is the core. Nuclear explosion – let’s not miss. Scaling up – all appliances.
The fire brigade and the rescue team – to take to the starting position. There will be thousands of victims and a huge site of defeat. Destruction and global cataclysm.
…
For me… Time flashed with crazy speed. I – did not have time to come to my senses from one shock, as – a new one collapsed. Just now – I was blinded by the opened narrow strip of the white part of the body – there… Almost at the horizon, behind the magistracy and guidance of the black stocking.
And now…
I see that she, too, has begun her Path.
And our Ways – must cross somewhere, meet. No more strength to withstand this passions. Blown – one by one, all fuses. Light bulbs began to burst and wine glasses exploded.
Necessary.
It’s time.
Good. I will take the next step.
The woman is waiting. The woman is calling. Woman – gives me…
I bring my left hand to her leg and try to brush away those accidental drops of liquid that could defile and ruin the perfection of this sight.
And I touch – the inside of the knee, the hollow – under the knee, so – a little on the side, and – a little lower… Or – higher?…
But now – I already support this wonderful leg with both hands…
Reflex movement… Another push of the whole nature. Cramp or cramp. Or – just the response of the body to the touch of another body. Something animal and magnetic…
And I have to get up from my seat so as not to get out of my hands…
But. Necessary.
It is impossible.
I do not understand.
She drops her glass. From her lips – a sigh is heard. Hot, passionate.
The bartender is shouting something.
I kneel down and stand right in the glass fragments and in the puddle. The main thing is not to get out of hand…
She – straightens the wide open slit on her skirt and looks at me.
What to do?
How to be
I feel something next to my knee – on the floor…
This is a shoe! My salvation and mine are a miracle. Ours is salvation. ……
Forcedly I let go of my load with my right hand, and I am fishing out of the darkness of the outskirts – into the light to show her our salvation.
She looks at her shoe and nods back to me. Yes is the right decision.
She will be able to stand on both legs, and go…
Her gaze tells me – lead me…
It’s your turn.
As I – led you, so you – now take the reins of government into your own hands.
Lead me…
Chapter 5. ESTROGEN
– Brakes.
– Well…
«Stop it…»
We are sitting with my grandfather in my room, grandfather is on his favorite «stool», and I am at my workplace. I am getting ready to do my homework – so I was forced to use both the recorder of my emotions and the designer of thought forms. And it was necessary to manage this ancient bio-memory by hand.
As Goetano told me, this is my friend – we are studying with him in the same group, historians do not specifically change the management system of ancient bio-memories in order to maximize the sense of those eras. You have to wave your hands in the air to change focus or rotate the angle. Lighting is also sometimes unusable.
Image quality and resolution is…
What does not feel the effect of presence. As if you were stuck in some kind of scenery. Even somehow at ease. I understand that I stayed in my room and only a fully spatial image filled my senses. But the brain refuses to believe. I’m used to the modern quality of broadcasting. Moreover – there is no emotional background at all. What, then, they still did not know how to supplement their emotional background with the content?
Can there really be such smells? This seems to be called – cigarette smoke? Somewhere I already heard about it. Pregenereal era. When people still used artificial stimulants.
Horror.
What about the lighting in the restaurant? No selectivity or filtering. Well, at least the words, these old ones, I know almost everything…
«Trunk», «nuclear explosion».
As soon as historians understand this in everything?
But with the shoe, with this one –