“Come on,” he waved his hand.

— Have you ordered prostitutes? Cyril asked doubtfully.

- You're offended, friend! Anton glared at him drowsily. — The girls from the modeling agency. But I assure you, very accommodating.

- That is, prostitutes! Kirill concluded.

No one shared Trubachev's righteous anger, although almost everyone in the company was married.

“They were going to sit with the men,” he continued to be indignant.

- What do the girls do for you? someone was surprised.

In the meantime, six beauties in tiny dresses fluttered into the room a la show everything that is, and immediately. Slim, young. Made up and combed in the latest fashion....