Chapter 3

Olga nodded silently. She turned around, wanted to cover herself with a thin blanket and changed her mind. What didn't he see? So she just sat down and put her feet on the floor. Oh! It turns out that she is still in bodily, weightless stockings. I wanted to please the groom, but in the end ...

"Not to think".

She slowly pulled off the remnants of luxury and stood up. The man squinted as he watched her undress. Olga stood up and looked at her man. He was only in "boxers" and was not at all embarrassed. There was no bathrobe nearby.

"Oh, there was not!"

The woman came closer, hugged his neck and gave him a short kiss, after which she wanted to move away, but he did not let her.

“Good morning,” Olga said. - How long have you been up?

- Yes.

He bent down, burying his face in her curls, which stood on end during the night. Did it smell like coconut? It looks like it. And something else sweet. Zimin wanted to remember her scent. Finally he let go, and Olga lightly walked around him, ending up behind him. The woman ran her fingers along his back, and he realized that she had traced the silhouette of a thug tattoo with her finger. Miroslav moved his broad shoulders and moved his head left and right, so that his vertebrae cracked barely audibly. Muscles moved and played under the skin. At that moment it seemed to her that he shook himself like a huge beast.

- Will you tell? she asked.

Olga decided for herself that she would not dig, although there were opportunities for work. She wondered how far his trust extended. Will he tell or not? If so, will she accept the truth? If not, then ... So what? You can find out everything, even if he says nothing.

“I was sitting,” he turned to her and grabbed her by the wrist.

- I understand this.

Miroslav chuckled. She's weird, though. He does not ask why he was doing time in the zone. I asked him, not in my private security company.

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he gestured around her face, lingering on her chin, and forced her to look into her eyes. You probably won't like it.

“Since you say so…” she snorted, realizing she was overstepping a line. “Okay, who’s first to shower?”

- I already was.

- Excellent!

She practically ran away. I tried to walk slowly, but deep down I wanted to give a tear, close myself in the bathroom and think about what was happening. Worst of all, she again wanted Slav to take her to bed and repeat what had already happened.

But nature is merciless. The bladder is full, the hair is tousled, and you need to clean yourself up. Finally brush your teeth. Not at all romantic. She will always think about how she looks. There is no worse! It kills desire in the bud. At least that's how it is for her.

When you are confident in yourself, you do not think about the little things. You just completely surrender to the process.

- Mama mia!

She wanted to be beautiful... for him. Desired. Today he wanted her, but tomorrow? There are a lot of young attractive nymphets around who hunt for people like him. They don't care about age or criminal record. And don't care about the ring on your finger either. How long will it take before she gets bored with Zimin? Or maybe it’s even good that you get bored? When that happens—and it will inevitably happen—she will be free again.

Don't run away now. He hasn't had his fill yet. And didn't really want to. Just finally turned on the brain, and Olga realized how deep she got herself into trouble. She looked at the ring on her finger. You should probably take it off when you shower. Trying to do this, she realized that the sparkling bezel did not peel off. Probably a little swollen during the night. OK. Let it stay.

– Oh-kay, oh-kay… Take it easy…

And let the husband stay, too, since it happened so. Fate gives lemons - make lemonade! Or so. Limes - add tequila and salt. Enjoy. carpe diem. Seize the moment. Just live.

She began to examine herself in the mirror. I got enough sleep. I didn’t get drunk as I wanted, so the skin is fresh, without swelling. The complexion pleases. It's good that she never got into makeup. Nature gave her clean skin without flaws, so there was no particular need for plastering.

Around the eyes spontaneously formed "smoky", but the mascara did not spread, as she feared. Thanks to the manufacturer, did not deceive. As expected, barely noticeable red marks on the neck and chest. Slight irritation on the cheek. It's probably from his stubble. Lips swollen, lipstick and a trace caught a cold. Looks like... like a woman who's had a rough night.

"With a man."

Yes, sir. What do we have here? In addition to an impressive pile of towels for all occasions - two bathrobes, disposable slippers and mini-bottles with cosmetics. Excellent. And then her clutch remained with the witness. Cape, by the way, too. You have to pick it up later.

- Oh!

The phone is there. Left in the bag. Here's the slob! Maybe one of the co-workers called. It's good that you don't have to go to work. Three days, as expected, took the statement in the personnel department. On Wednesday, registration, so that the weekend could be added to this and walk for five days! Andrey quite reasonably objected that they would have to walk without him, but she decided to take the opportunity and just relax. And then it’s always one thing, then another.

Her ex is leaving today. In the evening. God, what if he called too?

"Yes, he went!"

Who managed, that and slippers. Water pours over the head, and the brain clears up a little. Life cannot be turned back. It will no longer be possible to rewind. If he came to his senses and decided to fix everything, he was too late. Even if he wallows at his feet and asks for forgiveness, his betrayal and cowardice will always stand between them. And yet another man. Zimin.

Ring. Sex.

Treason?

No.

Absolutely not. She didn't feel guilty.

Did you succumb to temptation? Released the brakes?

Yes.

Exactly yes. And there was no shame after what happened.

Out of spite? Wanted to annoy and hurt?

No, no and NO. Everything that happened yesterday was not in spite of the former lover, but because she liked the one who became her husband. Very, very much. And I liked it more and more. The test drive was successful. You can take.

She smiled broadly at the thought. Olga ran her hands over her body, washing off the fragrant foam, and a strange longing arose inside again. She is now like a March cat. If it were not for pride and dignity, she would come out and climb to the peasant.

The woman turned off the water and left. There is no linen to change. Well, okay. I have never gone without underwear under clothes, although I heard about this. Wrapping a towel turban around her hair and throwing on a snow-white terry-cloth robe, she glanced in the mirror again. Fresh as a rose. You can go out.

Scary.

What is he doing there? What's next? It is impossible to live in a hotel all the time. Come out and ask: "To you or to me?" Olga snorted with laughter. Absurd. In general, this is a big question. Do they have a guest marriage or what?

Olga tried to imagine him in her tiny odnushka and could not. Then I imagined a mansion somewhere on Rublyovka or a luxurious penthouse and myself in it - and it didn’t work out either. The picture didn't fit.

She opened the door and went into the living room. Zimin, who still hadn't dressed, was sitting at the table and studying something on his laptop. She didn't notice yesterday that he took something from the car. So, while she was sleeping, did you manage to take a walk? Maybe. When she appeared, the man looked at her.

- Well, how?

“Okay,” she smiled. “Fen just didn’t find it.

And I thought: there are no brushes either. Horror! Wet hair will curl with a small demon, and it will be something. Only oils managed to tame this mane a little. Nadia laughed at her and envied her, and Olga often wanted to cut her hair short. Only considerations that would be similar to provincial chemistry "a la ram" stopped. Then you can’t prove to anyone that it’s yours, and that it’s intended that way.

“The hair dryer is there, in the niche behind the door.

He didn't need a hair dryer, but Zimin unconsciously paid attention to seemingly insignificant details. What the room looks like, the exit routes, what lies where, who is standing where and what facial expressions, who has a trunk - if any - and whether this someone is ready to use it for its intended purpose ... This saved his life more than once.

- Yeah thanks.

She returned and made some noise, resigned to the inevitable. Under the stream of hot air, the hair stood on end. Explosion at the pasta factory! It seems that there was a pack of hairpins in the bag, maybe we can handle it. It's funny. She now perceived household trifles as a blessing, because they distracted her from thoughts of the inevitable.

She will now go out and meet him again.

- Slav.

She tasted the name. Sounds oddly familiar, like she's already resigned herself to the inevitable and starting to get used to him staying in her life.

- Husband?

But this sounded unusual, until it fit in my head. It was necessary to hear this from others a certain number of times for it to be imprinted in the mind like a brand. Accessory brand? I think, yes. No less real than a stamp in a passport or hickeys on the skin.

The second time she appeared before her husband, she found him almost dressed. He pulled on his trousers with socks, but he had not buttoned his shirt yet, and one could see a powerful chest and "cubes" on the press. Olga swallowed. You can't watch and you can't not watch. How to be here?

- What? He felt her gaze.

- Nothing.

Lied. Doesn't know how to cheat.

– Right?

- Well, yes…

The woman's mouth opened slightly, and pearly teeth were visible. Her chest rose as she inhaled. Her eyelashes fell for a moment and rose again, as if she didn't want him to know her thoughts. And, in general, everything is clear. How can you not understand?

- Go here.

Olga, as if spellbound, took a couple of steps towards. As a reward for her courage, the man hugged her. His fingers dug into her curls. With his other hand, he loosened the knot at his waist and pulled open the robe that had fallen from the woman's shoulders.

“I have business today,” he confronted her with a fact.

“I see,” she whispered, not knowing whether to be happy or sad.

Disappointment crept into his voice. Zimin laughed contentedly.

“But there is still some time.

He suddenly lifted her, taking under the ass, and pressed against the wall. She remained in her dressing gown. She only felt him grab her under her knee and lift her leg. So is he more comfortable? Now what?

Kiss you crazy. Weasels from below. He slams her against the wall and rubs her, simulating intercourse. But he hasn't entered yet, no... She groans with impatience, and Zimin laughs again. Responsive girl. Fortunately, for a long time already “not a girl”. You can not stand on ceremony. Now he wants it so hard and fast.

And he takes it.

Enters to the limit, plants so that she moans helplessly. He pauses briefly, looking into her eyes, and continues. Quickly, deeply and strongly drives his cock into her. Tr...t the way she wants, maintaining self-control and watching her burn with passion. He lets her cum and then violently cums himself.

***

Nadia showed up later. She brought her cape and her Erme clutch, which contained everything she needed - cosmetics and a phone. And then she rushed back down the corridor. She said not to wait, she would call back later. Romance in full swing? Wait and see. We must warn her that this Kalash is most likely connected with crime. Although Drobysheva is not a fool, she herself will understand everything. If you haven't already figured it out.

A sea of ​​missed calls. From anyone, but not from the one whose call she was waiting for and was afraid to hear. It's clear. Spit!

We must gather. And here the hitch came out. Zimin had long been dressed and waiting, and she, like any true woman, slowly painted her lips with bright red lipstick to match the dress.

Nothing, wait.

He's the reason they're late now, isn't it?

“That's it, I'm ready,” she sang and stood up.

They went out. The stomach suddenly collapsed. Wow! The appetite is back. Good sign. That's what life-giving sex means, as one of her correspondent colleagues used to say, a big vulgar and cynic.

"Fight fire with fire".

Recently, everything in bed with Andrei was somehow calm and on duty. Without a spark. There was pleasure, but satisfaction by and large - no. Crisis of three years, probably.

Olga in the depths of her soul understood that he was simply comfortable with her. Big and pure love has never been. In the beginning, yes, he courted according to all the laws of the genre. Just took the siege. Conquered, you might say. Flowers for home and work, yard serenades to the accompaniment of a guitar, trips to the theater and restaurants. Even a fight with a possible opponent. Confessions of love. And then, when the goal was achieved, he took everything for granted.

Maybe that's why Olga did not want to move in with him. She kept her distance to the last, although the man was terribly annoyed. To wash socks and underpants, in general, to an outsider? Cook soup-borscht? Bring beer and snacks while he lounges on the couch watching football? No. She didn't find herself in a dump. Who is he to her? Matchmaker, brother, husband, to serve him like that?

It turns out that she unwittingly squeezed Rudnitsky with her intransigence and “non-compliance”, hooked her so much that he decided to sacrifice his bachelor status. And then jumped off at the last moment.

So believe after such assurances of love. Words, words... If they disagree with deeds in a manly way, what can I say?

- What's wrong again? Zimin tensed, looking at his wife.

They went down the elevator. Olga stood with an absent look and seemed to be looking at her reflection in the mirror wall, but in reality she was nowhere. At the sound of his voice, she immediately woke up and started:

- Yes, I thought about it. Pay no attention, it happens to me.

That's it, the psychoanalysis session is over. Conclusions are made. Let's move on to a brighter future.

Zimin put it on the list of observations. This means that Letkova is prone to bouts of self-criticism. It's good that it doesn't eat his brains out. Valuable quality. She probably regrets that she got married, thinks about the former, and so on. P ... ts kitten, the train has left.

We arrived as we landed. A soft push against the earth's firmament. Olga didn't like elevators. Once she got stuck during a fire on the TV tower, which was served by their private security company, and was terribly frightened. Everything ended well, but then she could not ride the elevator for a long time.

Her husband felt her confusion, took her by the hand, and immediately became calmer. Then he pulled her out, to the exit. He again helped me get into the car and drove me without even asking where to go. So this is how it is? Olga decided that this was also in the dossier. This guy found out everything about her before making a final decision.

Business acumen and the habit of not trusting anyone without checking. And after that, probably, too. From time to time he gave her searching glances in the mirror over the windshield, and Olga physically felt them, as if someone were touching the skin.

- Here! she preceded the GPS navigator.

And then they will pass a turn and have to do an extra circle. Zimin turned and they drove into the yard. The escort car follows them. Olga, as if from the outside, appreciated what she has. Ordinary sleeping area, secondary housing stock, Soviet "odnushka". But its own, but - almost in Moscow. Mortgage paid in full. Doesn't depend on anyone. There is where to stumble in old age with a couple of cats so that it is not so lonely.

So she thought about five years ago. And, to be honest, I thought again for a moment in the registry office when the groom did not appear. She would not have been able to trust anyone enough to let her into her life for a long time. And there, old age is on the doorstep, knocking on the door ... Men are greedy for young people, and, as you know, there are more women than men. There is always a choice.

And for some reason, men always choose, not women.

And she will never have children.

And generally speaking…

- Are you really in a hurry? she suddenly asked, and as if a bridge was stretched over the abyss. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Zimin frowned for a moment. Popov, his deputy, called and said that he scored the "shooter" Radimich. We agreed to meet at three o'clock and talk about an underground casino and a place for illegal fights. It was necessary to think over a legal cover and a way to launder money. Miroslav was usually responsible for this part.

There was an hour left.

The peasant was usually not late and always appeared in advance in order to assess the situation without interference. But if not for long, then it is possible.

“Wait a minute,” he said.

Calling the deputy back, he sparingly, in a nutshell, warned that it would not work earlier. Will arrive on time, no problem. Let Radimich entertain himself there. I switched off, and I myself thought that the time was not for traffic jams, I had to be in time. Or ... Here it will be hilarious if he comes by subway. But on time. You can leave your car here.

Parked. He helped Olga unfasten himself, accidentally touched her chest and breathed in her scent again. Intellectually, of course, I understood that it was shampoo from the hotel, but still ... he got up. It hasn't been like that for a long time, though.

- Which floor?

- Fifth. Shall we go on foot? she suddenly suggested, and the man was finally convinced that she was afraid of elevators.

- Okay. Lead.

Along the way, Olga pulled out an impressive pile of mail. Some postcards, probably congratulatory ones, from those whom she decided to inform about the changes in her life. Newspapers are understandable. Accounts. He'll pay later when he goes for a walk with the neighbor's dog. Mira Zagitovna could no longer walk up the stairs, so a young healthy neighbor who lived opposite was walking with her Pekingese.

And what's that? Some letter. From Andrey! God…

She stopped at the landing between the fourth and fifth floors and breathed. Zimin noticed that there was no face on her.

"Let's go," she said to herself.

Opening the door, the landlady looked around. In addition to slippers, nothing reminded of the former. Olga did not offer them to the guest. She just squeamishly took the slippers with two fingers and threw them into the bucket in the bathroom, noting in passing that there was a toothbrush and a half-dead tube of aftershave lotion. Like this. He threw out the garbage, but did not take out the bag. Arbeiten, Olga Batkovna. It's not a king's job to take out the trash.

She washed her hands and left the bathroom. Then she went to the kitchen to make the promised coffee. Miroslav also rinsed himself and even took a piss, since he's here. After examining the contents of the shelves and buckets, the man chuckled contentedly and went back out.

He walked around the room, studying the restrained atmosphere, the books on the shelves - mostly in foreign languages ​​- and not finding any traces of another man's permanent presence in the house, Zimin grinned. Joint photos were also missing. Either her fiancé took out all his belongings, or they lived separately.

The second would be better. Why is better, he did not decide. Just…better.

Olga did not seem too accessible to him, although the last day had been saying otherwise. He did not yet know the thoughts of a woman.

She is the daughter of the Letkovs. It is strange that parents do not communicate with their only daughter. There was also a son, but he died under unclear circumstances in a car accident. The parents, young enough at the time, decided to have another child. So Olga was born.

Olga's father, Boris Ivanovich Letkov, was a major investor. In addition, he owned a wholesale and retail grocery chain and maintained a logistics center in the suburbs. In the sphere of his interests was an actively developing network of selective cosmetics and multi-brand youth clothing stores.

His wife's mother, Isabella Yuryevna, nee Padarskaya, was a fairly well-known photographer and actively participated in the cultural life of the city.

Daughter ... Not a word about her daughter, starting from the moment she was eighteen years old. No joint photos in public, no mentions in the press. Nothing. The postscript of the head of the security service said that, most likely, there had been a family quarrel. A year before the break, the girl was homeschooled for health reasons. Reason not specified. There are no ends to be found. Okay, so they hid.

In some places, Zimin's interests intersected with Letkov's holding. Interesting.

Why does the daughter of such parents live in this hole? Can't afford something better? He does not show off, he lives modestly, albeit with taste. She didn’t have a car - he saw it anyway, and it was indicated in the file. Although I passed on the right. But she goes to work, like a mere mortal, by subway. It is necessary, by the way, to arrange for one of the guys to take her back and forth.

Another oddity haunted him. There were two in the photo in the dossier. He compared and was surprised. Olga is not at all like her parents. The father is a large-boned brown-haired woman, and the mother is most likely a natural blonde. Also not very graceful. And it turned out to be a swarthy, graceful, like a figurine, curly “Spanish woman”.

- Slav? – he heard and went to the kitchen.

It smelled good. What is there! The aroma was intoxicating. Olga served as a priest in an ascetic, restrained kitchen. She brewed coffee in the sand. On a tray, immersed in hot sand, stood two miniature Turks. She quickly roasted the coffee in the microwave and ground it to dust. Vanilla cognac with a pod dancing inside was found on the shelf. A couple of drops at the very end. All.

God, she's home! Now she is right at home.

And she has a guest.

Miroslav seemed to have completely filled her tiny kitchen, forcing out all the air. The presence was felt on a physical level. Such a person needs more space, more territory and space. Only then will this strange pressure disappear.

Olga poured coffee into cups made of the finest Lomonosov porcelain and thought that it was necessary to purchase massive thick-walled dishes especially for Zimin. It's one thing to drink with girlfriends, and another - with him.

Drinks with pleasure. Apparently you like it. Silent, thinking. Sugar poured two spoons; she remembered for the future. I kept the sugar for Andrey, and now for him. Olga herself drank black and bitter, so that her eyes instantly opened and her consciousness cleared up. I don't want to sleep anymore. But I want to sing at the top of my lungs! What with her?

Joy blossomed within. It blossomed into an unknown flower, and it became clear that it was not the end of the world, and life did not end there. It will be difficult, but that's okay. But it's interesting and not boring.

"It's time," the man glanced at his wristwatch. - I went.

- Good. Conduct, or close yourself?

It was enough to slam the door.

“Well, go ahead,” he laughed.

She is interesting. Plays independence, has not played enough yet. A woman without a man is not a mare's tail. She is fine with him, so why bother? She pretends she doesn't care. It's a pity there's not enough time, otherwise he would have shown how much she cares. But this is in the evening.