in an embrace, we spun around, as if in a dance, and sank down on the bed. He hugged me, and his hands greedily touched my body, studying every millimeter. When we reached the highest point of pleasure, my womb was filled with insane desire. Our lips merged in a long kiss, and it seemed to me that we were caught in a whirlpool of endless voluptuousness. Only I didn’t want to rush.
– Peter, wait…” I whispered.
Then I got out of bed and started making tea with bergamot and black currant for us.
“I won’t do anything now,” he said softly and began to dress.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to leave right away.
When the door closed behind him, I sat down at the table in confusion.
“Is it really over between us,” I thought, and my tears dripped right into the cup.
But he rang my doorbell again when evening came. Peter stood on the threshold and held in his hands a huge bouquet of red roses.
– My girl, I’ve been dreaming of hugging you again, – he handed me flowers and put his hands on my waist.
– Why did you leave so suddenly? And I looked into his eyes with a little reproach.
“I will always be there for you, even if I leave,” Peter whispered and gently touched my cheek with his lips.
Night came, and we were all talking and could not tear ourselves away from each other, at that moment it seemed to us that it would always be like this. When it was getting light, I made a bed for him in a separate room. And she poured a bath with air foam and decided to lie down in it for a while. The foam pleasantly stroked my skin, gathering into a plentiful air mass, and I was even afraid to move from pleasure. Suddenly the door opened, and Peter appeared on the threshold.
– Let me look at you, how you bathe, – his beard began to move on his cheekbones when he attached great importance to the conversation.
– I thought you were already asleep,” I said in confusion, covering my bare chest with my hand.
He came closer to me and gently ran his hand over my bare stomach, rose higher and stopped at my nipples. He began to massage them with his hands, and then he pressed his lips and began to kiss them continuously. I moaned with pleasure and went limp. The water from the bath began to slowly leave, pleasantly stroking my back, and his lips covered every cell of my body. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed. That night we gave each other pleasure, discovering the land of great passion and love.
Love is carrots and all that…
The next day the weather was fine, the puddles from yesterday’s rain had almost dried up. Peter’s car was waiting for us in the parking lot, it was a blue Chevrolet Aveo. She dazzlingly shone with purity so that, coming closer to her, you could see yourself as if in a mirror. The cabin was still neat and smelled fresh citrus.
– What kind of owner is such a car, and your car is just fabulously clean, – I said enthusiastically.
Peter smiled, it was obvious that he was pleased with my compliment. The priest crossed the car and himself, turned on the songs of Father Alexander Starostenko, and we drove off. The navigator took us around the capital, narrow streets were replaced by large wide streets, and so we drove for an hour. We parked near the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and got out of the car, where a man was waiting for us.
– Hello. My name is Sergey Valeryevich,” he introduced himself.
The man was dressed in a strict suit that emphasized his business style.
– Let’s go to my office, and after our conversation I will treat you to a delicious lunch, – he smiled and hurriedly walked forward.
Opening a huge door in the building, we went up to the third floor and walked for a long time along a narrow corridor, which was decorated with a carpet, along which various offices of secretaries, ministers and various deputies were located. Sergei Valeryevich was also, apparently, a deputy minister. Finally we reached his office. He was quite strict and formal. A leather armchair, a leather sofa and a work desk with a mini-bar were the boring interior of their owner. On the wall hung a picture of our president and the coat of arms of the country. Camellia flowers on the windowsills and a decorative rose on the floor in a vase slightly diluted the official atmosphere.
The men sat down on opposite sides of the table and immediately began to talk animatedly. I sat comfortably in an armchair and, closing my eyes, decided to rest a little, so I did not immediately delve into their conversation. But when phrases about tribes began to reach me, I, of course, began to listen.
– We want you, Father, to act as a missionary and take Vera to New Guinea. I would like to thank God that there are still such priests,” Sergei Valeryevich said firmly and leaned back, stretching his arms wide along the back of the chair.
– I agree with you, in such places it is impossible without faith, – the priest replied and spread his hands.
– of course. After all, our goal is to develop a civilized society in Papua New Guinea. Many tribes that live there are actually still in the Stone Age and practice cannibalism. Our missionaries work with them. Maybe three drops of cognac before dinner? – Sergey Valeryevich got up from his chair, went to the mini-bar and opened the door of the cherished locker. And there was a huge variety of different bottles with different colored caps.
– Sergey Valeryevich, I would love to, but I’m driving. We still have to go home,” regret could be heard in Peter’s voice.
– Three drops, just three drops. Yes, and if the guys from the traffic police stop, then call me,” our rainbow host said cheerfully.
“Then I agree,” Pyotr said and, smiling, raised the crystal glass to his lips.
The men drank in one gulp and had a snack with a lemon on duty, which was lying on Sergei Valeryevich’s table.
– Good, strong cognac, – said Peter.
Sergey Valeryevich suggested that we go to the dining room with him for lunch.
We went down the stairs to the first floor, the doors to it were open. The dining room turned out to be all in marble and paintings, candlesticks hung on the walls. It smelled of delicious and fragrant food. Two young girls worked at the distribution, they laid out dishes on plates and smiled sweetly at everyone.
– My dear, hello! – the gray-haired man said loudly and took my hand, I recoiled from him in surprise, but when I looked at his face, I recognized him as a pop artist Aristarch Borisovich.
“Scared?” laughing in his velvety, beautiful voice, he asked.
– A little. Hello, Aristarkh Borisovich,” I said happily, coming out of my stupor.
– Bon appetit, and I’ll go, or a photo for memory? and his face melted into a snow – white smile.
Peter saw a celebrity next to me and immediately came up to us.
