The very strange story

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The very strange storyThe very strange Story.“That’s it!” I put the brush in a glass and covered the canvas.“Have you already finished?” She asked.”Not. That’s all for today. I need to think a little, but this is already without a model. ”“Do you not need me anymore?” She asked.“I think yes. Money on a table near the window. ”“I’m not tired at all today. Only my hands were numb. ”She said. She got up and waved her hands several times, like a bird.«Do not look at me. I will get dressed.”“Don’t look, I’m shy,” she repeated.“You just lay naked in front of me and were not embarrassed, and now you feel ashamed in your clothes?”“It is indecent to dress in front of a man,” she answered.“Catherine the Second and Marie Antoinette saw their dressing in front of the courtiers as an encouragement. The presence at this ceremony had to be earned. ”“They were queens. If I were a queen …” She laughed.“Feel free to have fun. Let me dress you. “She laughed: “How are you? And will I enjoy the fact that you will dress me? ”She wrinkled her face in doubt. I do not believe. In any case, this is somehow unpleasant to me. It seems to me that dressing is too intimate. It is even more intimate than sex.”“On the table near the window is an envelope with money for your work as a model. I put another one exactly the same for dressing you.I know that dressing a woman is not worth the money, but I do it to break your stupid Puritan prejudice.”She grinned and shrugged. I regarded this gesture as consent.“Nor a one man has dressed you yet?” I asked.“Of course they not and never. They only undressed me, but dressing a woman between you men is considered indecent. ”“Did you like it when they undressed you? Did you like it or not? ”I asked her again.She did not answer and only shrugged again. She was not yet spoiled by poverty, although she tried to seem like an experienced whore, as it has now become fashionable for some young girls, but she did not succeed at all. And I did not believe her that one of the men had ever undressed her.“Please sit on this sofa.” I asked. ‘This is the only one soft spot in this studio, although it is smeared with paint. But don’t be afraid to get dirty, it has dried out long ago.’Her clothes were found folded on a chair. The girl was clearly not tired by comfort and maids.Her bra was hanging on the back, and her stockings lay on the seat over her clothes. Everything was beautifully and neatly folded and for some reason I suddenly felt pleased.I thought a little from where to start and decided it was better with stockings. I did not want she get up again from the couch, because all women consider the couch and bed as the safest place and, in a moment of danger, try to hide in there. And she was worried now. I do not know why. And yet, she was burned with curiosity. I saw this, although she tried to hide her curiosity behind a feigned smile.I know how to wear stockings. These were perhaps not entirely new, but clean and, oddly enough, they were not cheap. I took the one from right side. And I going to the sofa, knelt before her. She was clearly embarrassed.“Please raise your left foot a little,” I asked. She was even more embarrassed and tried to cover her pussy with her palm, which suddenly looked out from under her thigh.“Don’t do this,” I asked. “I don’t look there. But the stocking can sit crookedly. ” Her face flushed with a paint of shame, but she obeyed and leaned back, keeping her foot against my face.I grabbed her heel and squeezed her foot slightly. She screamed and instinctively drew back her leg.“Yes, amasya escort I know, this is a very sensitive place. But now it will pass. ” I opened my fingers. “See, you’re already calm. Can I continue? ”“Yes,” she whispered a not audibly.I gradually straightened the stocking to the knee and drew attention to how deeply she sighed when I touched her delicate skin on the popliteal side. She had very slim and sensual legs. Moreover, they were strikingly long. An expensive stocking barely reached the middle of the thigh.“Now give me the right.” I had found the small fingers with clean nails without pedicure. She has really beautiful foots.The second stocking I put on more boldly. She completely relaxed and muttered something incoherent. And I managed without resistance to massage her foot and thigh at the very pussy.Although she did not need a bra at all; she nevertheless wore it, apparently for solidity.I took it off the back and she stood to meet me, turning her back to me. The bra, like stockings, was not from a cheap store. I mentally praised her taste for good linen.Sliding a palm over her hands, I threw the straps over her shoulders and tucked her breasts into the lace cups of her bra, assessing the youthful elasticity of the nipples.She did not utter a sound; she only trembled sharply and deeply.The bra was not sitting tight with him there were no problems with the fastening. I put my fingers under the straps and quickly slipped along them, spreading the fabric from the back to the very cups on her chest.“Oh, she cried out unexpectedly; yes you are a professional. They only do this … she didn’t finish. I feel your pro hand. ”“It happened by accident.”She turned and looked into my eyes without saying anything.On top of the chair was still a belt with suspenders; two locks on each side. I somehow did not notice when she took it off before posing.But I still love this part of the women’s restroom. She adds piquancy and a pleasant sense of intimacy to sexual relationships, especially at the first met.The strap was a little tight for her waist and I loosened the tension by releasing the lock of the belt.“Don’t need it so tight. After it remains a trace, and this is bad for the skin. You have nice rounded hips and a belt; it’s going to stay that way. ” “Therefore, I wear a belt so that the stockings do not slip when walking.”She reached for the locks on the suspenders and I slapped her hands lightly: “Shhh. I know how to fasten female suspenders. ”Her stockings were with wide lace trim that made them look like Hessian boots.”Some men experience ecstasy at the sight of such stockings.” I know it.It seemed to me that I was only thinking about it, but it sounded out loud.“Where from you know?” She asked again.“But I was married a little.”My answer reassured her, although I did not satisfy her. I learned to read women’s thoughts in the time I spent with Karl and Linda. For all the apparent mystery and complexity of the female nature; female creatures are very predictable.Her panties were from the same store as the stockings. She apparently in many ways refused herself, for the sake of good linen.I knelt down again in the front and she put her hands on my shoulders.I lightly touched her left leg and she lifted her slightly above the floor. Then in the same way and right.The panties drove up her legs until the tight belt took its place on her hips.She, according to her female habit, spread her legs slightly so that the panties would sit more comfortably on the pussy and I took advantage of the moment running escort amasya my fingers under the lace fabric, quickly straightened the wrinkles, running my fingers along the edge of the panties from the vagina to the hips, simultaneously feeling the wetness of her labia.Everything happened very quickly and she did not even have time to cry out; only belatedly indicated her embarrassment with a clap on my arm.The skirt and blouse still lay lonely on the chair, but so far I did not bother their peace.“Where do you live?” I asked.”In Chicago.” She had whispered to me with shyness.”Chicago” in this city was called one of the criminal areas. It was an area with a poor reputation. Only “Shanghai” was worse than him. If in “Chicago” you could still find islands with houses suitable for living, then “Shanghai” was a real Canyonville.Of course, I could call for her a taxi, but at night not a single driver would go to “Chicago” for any money, even the police would not go to “Shanghai.”“How long have you been living there?”“I’m already moving the other day. I found a job and signed a contract with “House”. I will start the day after tomorrow it will on Monday”.“I hope so,” I thought.I took from the bath a red bathrobe, which had been hanging there since biblical times and was bought as a requisite for some kind of painting, but was not useful; and went to her. She stood in the same linen that I put on her; looking frightened at me somehow. I inserted her hands into the sleeves of the dressing gown almost forcibly and wrap one piece of bathrobe on another, tightly tied a belt around her, which had to be wrapped twice around her teeny waist.“You’re weird, “she whispered with a sigh.Why are you so weird?I know that women are afraid of strange men and do not trust them, considering them as a hidden maniacs. And only red-haired beauties can fall madly in love with them for one or even two weeks. But then and they disappear without saying goodbye leaving behind a tart aroma of aftertaste.In this red coat she looked quite at home; like a wife or daughter returning from work.May I see what you draw?I threw the cover away from the canvas and went to the window, watching her reaction“Oh! She cried out. It’s me on the throne… Did you portray me as a queen?… And who are these people in front of me?… Who am I pointing at? …Now I understand why you made me hold my hand like that…. And this old man kneeling in front of me, what is he asking me for?”“He begs happiness from you.. But you didn’t even look at him. And you chose a man completely detached from you.”“Who am I?… Who am I in the picture?”“Fortune. You are the fate that chooses your favorite.”“This picture was ordered to me by one very strange person. He just told me a story about his life.”She still stood in front of the canvas whispering something to her. Then she sadly sat on the sofa and thought. It was evident that what he saw captured her.“No,” she said.“You had already said “no”. Now tell: “Yes.”“No, I’m sorry,” she said again.“I’m very tired. I had a good time with you, and a wonderful evening, but I can’t.”“But you haven’t even tried, you don’t know that you can get from me,” he said.She didn’t answer.He took her by the button, trying retaining and to bring her closer to him. The button fell off, and clattered on the wet sidewalk.She kissed his cheek.When he raised the button, the woman was already far away.He saw how she quickly, without looking back, entered the house.The door creaked and closed with a nasty sound; as if someone showed him the tongue.“It’s amasya escort bayan again, as always. They all went away the same way”.He already knew that everything will exactly as now; just because it should be so, because it never must be good.Then, through few days, she, like all women before, will call or send through friends her regret.Her voice will sound softly and calm. And In all, what she will speak, he will see her hidden hope that he asks her to meet again and at this time all will change, and she will ask him to come to her, maybe. But he will not invite her. The conversation will not too long and not too short. He tells a joke or gossip. They will politely laugh at a joke and he hung up the phone, forever. Then he takes his “Parker” and with one thin line erases her number in his notebook.The drizzle intensified tonight, but he still went home on foot. He was walking slowly, so he came with.The suit needs in cleaning.In the pockets except the wallet there was nothing; only a wallet and a handkerchief.A notebook lay on the table, where is the “Parker”.He opened it and saw the sheet of paper fell out on the floor, similar to the faded dollar.He completely forgot about this scrap of paper; lottery ticket.He got it from some drunkard, who couldn’t pay for the drink. And he poured him a glass of whiskey; poured just so, willingly. He did not haggle and did not ask for anything in return. This man just gave him the ticket as payback. Perhaps this man was very proud and could not accept anything that looks like charity. For some reason drinkers, unlike the women were always good to him.In the drawer lay his Magnum 45.He bought it a long time ago, in Texas, to shoot snakes. Magnums don’t fail him even once.He pulled it from the drawer and checked. In the drum were only three cartridges.He cocked it and wanted to put a gun to his head. But the hand is not raised.Someone was holding his hand. There was no one. The house was empty. But someone was holding his hand.And the hand was soft, warm and very strong.She will be happy. They all will be happy, he thought.He picked up his notebook. It was full of the strikeout numbers.They will think it’s because of them. Oh, nice. All these empty and dull women will be happy immediately?He put the Magnum on the table and flipped through the notebook.Forgotten Lottery ticket lying on the floor and looked like an old dollar.He picked it up and laid them page in the phone book.Some Said, money and women are inseparable. No luck with women and will no luck with money.Then he looked at the ticket number and the date of the draw.The circulation was only three days ago.He picked up the phone and called.“I want to check a lottery ticket. Could you tell me the number?”A male voice on the other end said, “Someone catches a good luck in our city, sir; Dropped the jackpot, for the first time in three years, sir.”And what does the amount get this lucky? – He asked, just mechanically, without thinking.“16, 4 million, sir, for the ticket barrier, sir.”“A number?”Voice dictates the numbers slowly and clearly.It was his number; all letters, all digits were his.Further, he has not listened. He hung up the phone and go to bed.In the morning he took a bath, changed his clothes and takes a taxi. A new life is waiting for him on the thresholdHe took nothing from his old life. He even changed his name.Now he could afford it.She listened to my story very carefully and when I finished, she softly whispered: “I know who ordered this picture for you.”The sun’s rays were already breaking through the crowns of chestnuts; she silently took off her red coat and was no longer embarrassed to put on a skirt and a topic.Then she hugged him and kissed as a woman, who had a wonderful night with a man, kissed while leaving.The end.

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