Читать книгу Metamorphosis-1. Sensation of the Woman - Georgy Stenkin - Страница 3

The restaurant was all in clubs of cigarette smoke, in decibels of the band and in the ranges of the singer. In countless legs, arms, heads and conversations. In the movements of dancing couples and groups, in open backs, in open legs, in open smiles…

There were insidious looks, languid gestures, inviting inclination of the head and graceful, alluring lips licking. Taunts were read, interest and neglect with arrogance. Passion, desire and loneliness with longing.

Hairstyles, jewelry and bare…

Posturing and charm. Shocking and mannerism. Grace and physical education. Intoxication and cloudy eyes. Ecstasy and «ecstasy».

It was all there. Or…

A boat shoe or a sandal? Or are they such open shoes? Some stripes, pointedness and a rather high heel. I can’t make out the color, in this mishmash of spotlights, lamps and lighting effects.

– Get out of here, man.

And where is the white leg in this shoe? Something dark. Stockings? Let there be stockings. I want it so that there are stockings.

Op.

The back of the shoe jumped off the heel.

Wow…

It remains to balance. It didn’t jump off. Swing – once. Swung – in the opposite direction. And hung. nice shoe.

Opened my whole foot and heel. And in the reflection of rotating lamps, or in a directional floodlight? Or – it’s just a shine…

The grace of bending, the curvature of the lift and the bare…

It’s in stockings! This leg was in stocking! I have seen that! Return the stockings!

Yes. She is still in stocking. Only an insidious shoe – exposed the sparkle and brilliance from the fact that you can not hide any stockings.

So what’s next?

Yes you wait. Such a sight!

Tigress grin, the open mouth of a lioness. Shoe and foot. Foot and shoe. Why can’t I hear a loud roar?

I’ll go and, as a trainer, I’ll put my head between the jaws of a predator…

Something somehow and the music became muffled and the cigarette smoke somewhere «stretched out», and the flicker of the resting-entertaining audience diminished. Or it seems to me…

Hypnosis? Bait?

Brr…

Was my cognac somewhere?

– My dear!

– Repeat. Yes. You are welcome.

What? Where?

I do not see. Where is this miracle?

He didn’t seem to notice any laser sight in his eyes. And here – about fifteen meters, probably…

They say that good optics are needed only for hunting expensive «game», so as not to spoil the skin. To hit right in the eye.

That is – right in the heel.

Here. There you go. Focused. The heel is in place. And – a foot, and a shoe – everything also hangs nonchalantly at the very tip…

I’m on my way… I’m flying…

Not. You can’t be such a sucker. As soon as the tigress opened her mouth, I was ready to put my head there.

Break

Time-out.

What do we have next?

You can, in principle, draw your index finger along this concavity on the foot. There is no need. A poor shoe can fall off and fall on this terrible thousandth tracked floor.

Then…

Right next to the heel – there is a bulge. In my opinion – this is called the ankle. Or I’m wrong? It does not matter. Such a small bulge…

How surprisingly is the female leg arranged? Here you have a hollow, and rise, and a heel and a bulge, and concavity.

And this shoe too…

Probably women somewhere up there…

Issue additional parts to their bodies. Stockings, slippers, jewelry, skirts…

Well, how can you separate this shoe from this leg?

It is unthinkable.

Impossible.

Unless I have to take it off myself. Then we will enter into a confrontation with her. She will try to cover up hidden body to the very last opportunity, and I, on the contrary, will try to open a new miracle to the world…

Progress – will definitely win.

Mandatory.

So…

Ankle. Hm. Here again begins some kind of mythical bend.

Mythical?

Because – in my awakened imagination… The ancient Greek amphora sharply «entered». She has almost the same grace, in the same place.

So.

I am sitting in a restaurant.

And look at the female leg. What the hell can there be myths and amphoras?

…

Uh hey?

Where to?

What it is?

The shoe is put back in its place and the leg simply disappears, somewhere in the folds of matter or in the darkness of the bar. I can’t make out.

Well, what is there?

It’s been a while. Dophantized. With his forefinger, the concavity…

Burdock.

Okay. Turning on the data center. What have i seen? You need to understand what it was. And what – it all means.

There are no hopeless situations, there are fools who do not know how to find a way out. So we will not be fools, but we will look for a way out.

Which exit? Where is the way out?

Just like that – shoes are not striking to single men in the prime of life.

We’ll figure out.

Go.

Of course, the shoe has its owner, which of course also owns this leg, the contemplation of which was so brazenly interrupted. The shoe hung in a half-lifted position, about 15—17 minutes. No less. This may indicate that the hostess – feels herself in this stinking smells and tastes, the atmosphere rumbling with notes and sounds, is quite comfortable, without fuss and nervousness.

Therefore, a woman knows her worth. Undoubtedly.

The leg did not swing to the beat of the music, so its owner – either leads a fascinating conversation with her companion (s), or is immersed in her own thoughts.

The fact that there are no companions is an indisputable fact. In the women’s company – she would not be able to sit for two minutes with a fixed leg.

Now – her alleged companion…

If this is a close person, then why didn’t he notice an almost dropped shoe? Sitting too close not to shout down the volume of the music and the hall? Maybe. But, a man can’t sit next to a spectacular woman for 15 minutes and don’t look at her all over – from head to toe. He would – he saw.

And why did I get that she – in general, spectacular. Can…

Not. Stockings, graceful (not fashionable, namely graceful) slipper. The stillness hanging at your very fingertips…

So…

So – or there is no satellite, or it was – but withdrew. Retired to the toilet? And now he came back, and from this the shoe fell into place and the leg disappeared from my eyes?

May be. It may very well be.

Only…

What if?

Not.

Maybe?

Also no.

But what about?

Well, of course.

Would she begin to expose her lovely leg in an amazing shoe for all to see, while her close companion is away?

This can only be for two reasons. She is not at all satisfied with her hanging out partner at this restaurant. Or – she’s all alone here, but is «in search», «in anticipation». And right now – someone «pecked» while I was doing exercises for the shoe here.

What about stockings?

Or did I invent them for myself?

Well… judging by age…

And I would determine the age of this lady in 32—33, let’s say – up to 35 years.

Why?

How did I manage to determine the age of their owner by shoe and foot?

Ordinary self-confidence? Or what? Yes, very simple.

I’m telling you.

A woman who is in a noisy restaurant sits at the bar and for 15 minutes does not make any leg movements and does not pay attention to the shoe that almost fell from her foot…

This is not youthful energy and enthusiasm, and not attributes of the onset of a second youth, I mean the age of 40—45 years. In both of these cases – there would be movement and a shoe – would have been put in place, in about five minutes. Well, seven…

Therefore – we do not twitch over trifles, it is not so important for us to have all buttons, all fasteners, all slippers buttoned (or unfastened)…

Comfort and grace, charm and confidence in your innate femininity. Naturally spectacular.

Plus – the already mentioned stockings and…

And again – stockings.

We do not take into account the appearance of the legs. Well there…

Plastic surgery, lifting. In spite of artificial interventions, since no falsehood is felt…

There is sincerity and naturalness.

And – therefore:

If she – in fact, is here without her companion to visit this restaurant, then she is no more than 35 years old.

Fact.

The triumph of deduction.

OK.

It is time to advance to combat positions.

Sorry. How do I recognize her?

Peek into all the ladies’ under skirts? Say hello to their shoes?

Damn.

Got into.

Oh, man…

Prince from «Cinderella».

Well…

Where ours hasn’t disappeared!

…

– Excuse me…

«Will you let me pass?»

– Thank you.

– I passed, but I can’t get away…

«I have to get to know your shoe.»

– Because I’m looking for my Cinderella.

– Not. I am not a prince. And I don’t have a second shoe. But mine – I know for sure. Definitely.