I closed my eyes and finally said goodbye to common sense. I can’t fully believe that my body reacts this way to Uritsky, although it’s still a question of whether his merit is in this, it is quite possible that the alcohol I have drunk now controls my body. I tried to remember how many cocktails I persuaded in the evening, six? Or is it still seven? It is not surprising that I am thrown into a fever and my legs, as it were, move apart towards his hands.

Somewhere in the depths of my mind, the thought flickers that in the morning I will regret it, that I want...