Chapter 4_Oleg

Anger surges as I get behind the wheel of my SUV. I turn on the music at full power and reach for the glove compartment for a pack of cigarettes. How long have you not smoked? Month? I start the engine and pull away, leaving the Beast's cottage in the rearview mirror. Houses and trees succeed each other until I reach the main road.

The trill of a mobile phone pulls out of the stream of thoughts.

“Yes,” I answer over the speakerphone.

- Good afternoon, Oleg Nikolaevich. Albina worries you. – A female voice greets.

- I prepared the projects we talked about. You need to look at them.

- When?

- If you don't mind, you can do it today. - I make an appointment at eight o'clock in the evening in a restaurant and end the call.

I drive up to the office. I park the car in the parking lot, but I'm in no hurry to get out. There is a real mess going on in my head. Masha! This baby got under my skin like a splinter. I never forgot our night. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Even today, when I met her in the house of the Beast, I was blown away, again.

Cursing under my breath, I get out of the car. As I walk, I take off my jacket and roll up my shirt sleeves to my elbows. Today it's very hot. I am in my office. The secretary informs about the daily routine, brings mail and incoming correspondence.

– Oleg Nikolaevich, the designer Albina Lisitskaya came to see you. - Stretches a young girl, almost pressing herself against the wall under the stern gaze of my eyes.

“So you gave me my personal number?”

“I beg your pardon for my rashness, but this woman said she would not leave the office until she spoke to you in person.

- In such situations, you need to contact the guards, and not hand out the personal number of the leadership left and right. Do not make such mistakes in the future, otherwise you will have to look for another job.

- Good. Once again, I apologize. The girl blushes to the roots of her hair and tries to retreat. As soon as the door closes behind her, Max appears on the threshold.

The guy defiantly knocks, drawing attention to himself:

Busy as always?

- Out of money? Max lazily walks over to my table and sits on its edge. - You are not insolent? On a chair. Sit down.

- Lousy day? - Max is in no hurry to fulfill my demand, which is why I start to wind up.

I said sit down on a chair. Why did you come?

- For money. Can I disturb such a busy person over trifles? Max smirks, brazenly looking me straight in the eyes.

Have you tried to get a job? Aren't you ashamed to beg for money from your father?

“Work is not our method,” the wry smile on my son’s face causes me a new portion of anger.

- At your age, I plowed like hell, and you ...

- I know I know. I've heard it all a million times. You don't have to play the same record. Just give me money, Oleg.

Silently, I reach for my wallet. I take out a few bills, but I'm in no hurry to give them away.

- Maxim, remember this moment. Remember well, because this is the last time I give you money. You will have to find a job. If you are used to spending money, then, be kind, know how to earn. Max lazily rises from his chair and takes paper banknotes from my hands. He gives them a scornful look, then slips them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Actually, I’m a full-time student. I remind you, since you suffer from senile sclerosis. You are required by law to support me until the age of twenty-three. So, be patient, daddy, four more years.

“Unfinished lawyer,” I bark at the retreating figure, and then plunge into work.

While reading business correspondence, I look at my watch all the time. I dial the secretary's number on the phone and ask for a double espresso. I need to distract myself, otherwise, I’ll explode from the intrusive thoughts. Masha . She climbed into the subcortex again and does not want to leave. I'm trying to drive her away. I try to remove her plump lips and seductive breasts from the recesses of memories. You can't, Oleg! It is forbidden! The girl is only eighteen years old.

I spend the rest of the day at the office. After work, I go home to take a shower and change for a meeting with the designer. By eight o'clock, in full dress, I am sitting at one table in the "Budapest". I scroll through the world news on my smartphone, trying to distract myself from the agonizing wait. The designer is clearly not in a hurry to meet, and this, to put it mildly, is annoying. Fifteen minutes later, a tall curvaceous blonde finally appears on the doorstep of the restaurant. The maitre d' greets guests with a big smile on their face and escorts them to my table.

- Good evening, Oleg Nikolaevich. I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting, - Albina sits down in a chair, and then straightens the strap of her dress and casually runs her fingers along the curve of her neck.

- Good evening. Have you brought projects?

- And you are a business man, Oleg. Everything: business, work, papers. - He draws out in a deliberately sugary voice. "Maybe we should just have dinner first, and then we'll get down to business?" Have you already looked at the menu?

No, I was waiting for you.

- Tell me, is it your first time in this restaurant or have you already been here? Are you familiar with the kitchen? Perhaps you can give me a couple of suggestions. - The girl lightly touches my wrist, but then abruptly removes her hand, noticing my cold look. – What do you recommend? Which dish to choose?

I don't know your taste preferences.

- And what do you like, Oleg? - Her voice is strangely hoarse and it seems to me that she is not talking about the kitchen at all.

“I'm afraid our tastes don't match,” I grin slyly, leaning back in my chair.

- Even so? - He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Perhaps it’s worth a try and only then draw conclusions?”

I'm about to respond with another sarcasm, but a familiar girlish laugh catches my attention. My heart skips a beat when I notice a short brunette dressed in a short yellow dress that hugs every inch. Masha walks arm in arm with two girls, talking sweetly about something. I swallow the lump in my throat as I glare at rounded hips and slender legs. She's just not really pretty in that dress and I'd love to take it off right now. And then he explored with his tongue every millimeter of her velvet skin until the baby thrashed in sweet ecstasy.

- So, what, tell me, Oleg? Worth a try? - The voice of the designer pulls me out of vulgar fantasies.

- What?

“You didn’t listen to me at all, Oleg,” the blonde sighs sadly, and I try to remember at least one word from the last conversation, but all in vain.

Masha's presence has an exciting effect on me. I turn my head from side to side, trying to find the yellow dress with my eyes. I need to see her. Heck! I just need to look at her to calm down and not sit on pins and needles.

The rest of the evening I try to be silent. The designer talks about something, talks about the project of a new hotel, shows some drawings, pictures, visualizations, but I don’t care about that. Masha. Only she. Her image confuses all my thoughts, and I do not know what to do with it.

Soon Masha, in the company of her friends, leaves the restaurant and my brakes fail. I throw money for dinner on the table and apologize to the designer. I practically run to the exit, hoping not to lose sight of the yellow dress. Once on the street, I have time to notice how the girls get into a taxi, and I immediately run to my SUV. All the way I do not lose sight of the car with the yellow checker on the roof. Pulling up to the Palladium I'm not in a hurry to get out of the car, but just watching a group of young girls walking in the direction of the entrance to the nightclub.

Patience running out. I puff on my third cigarette in a row. Jerk. Oleg, you are a real moron! You ran after the girl, like a devoted puppy, and you are standing here under a fashionable club, afraid to go inside.

Once in the club, I take a comfortable place for observation. I order whiskey with ice to the bartender. I drink half a glass in one gulp, and nervously tap my fingers on the table. Masha, at this time, is sitting on the couch, sexually throwing her legs one over the other. She pulls some kind of cocktail from a straw and smiles broadly at her friends. I watch the baby, absolutely not giving a report of my adequacy.

I reach for my cell phone. I dial the driver's phone number and let him know that he must be at the club within an hour. Today I'm 100% drunk.