From the notes of Mr. N

«No wonder! – I answer, – after all, I drank a sweet shake.

I’m as drunk as I’ve ever been. I want her, even though I can’t see her face, but she pushes me away and says she’s married, that her husband is a monster, and she’s afraid of getting burned. I smile and whisper that I am long-dead ashes, scattered a hundred thousand times to the wind. And we still don’t know which of us is the real ghost. I think I’m just saying this to get her to follow me, and it hurts.

ABOUT INTIMATE CONVERSATIONS OF A MARRIED WOMAN WITH A STRANGE MAN

Any man likes intimate conversations with women. But if a woman has intimate conversations with a man, that is, she confides in him or confesses to some secrets or sins, and often, as a rule, these conversations are connected with some problems with her husband, discord within the family, or she complains about her situation, then this is the surest signal that such a situation is happening. a woman is driven to the extreme and is capable of anything up to sexual acts, because her husband is not an authority for her at the moment. That is, she is looking for a different authority, more profitable and convenient.

AS FROM I WAS ONCE MADE A MORAL GEEK

A bald Black man in a red doublet and general’s trousers pulled on a chopper. I entered the foyer, brushing snow from my collar. The luxury and decoration of the hotel impressed me. I felt like a stranger here, walking barefoot on the red carpet past the columns and marble statues. It seemed that the maitre d ' was about to approach me and ask me to leave. I stopped at a shop window selling Italian designer jewelry and handicrafts. The saleswoman gave me a cursory, blank look andturned back to Forbesmagazine.

«Can I have one candy?» I asked, and took a ladybug from the vase on her desk.

There was still plenty of time, and I sat down on the antique velour couch, one leg propped casually on the carved oak table. I wanted attention, because the general indifference to my modest person in this extravagant place caused me unpleasant feelings. Across from me sat a solid-looking man ina Versace shirt withthe collar open, smoking a cigar. As luck would have it, a puff of cigar smoke hid my brusque behavior from the maitre d ' ’s view. And the scandal failed.

Customers were walking slowly past us. They were mostly foreigners with VIP prostitutes, but there were also some Russians. One of them dropped a hundred-dollar bill as he let a lady into the elevator and didn’t notice. The bill lay on the carpet until the head waiter picked it up. His well-groomed face, glistening with fat, was impassive. It seemed that picking up hundred-dollar bills was a common occurrence for him. And I suddenly felt sorry for those boys who gave their lives in the trenches of Chechnya. There was a merciless, useless war, and here money flowed like a river. It was as if thousands of angry dead were stirring in their graves from injustice. I could even hear their brittle bones crunching.

Glancing up at the inner balcony that overlooked the foyer, I noticed a woman blowing me kisses while holding a glass of champagne. At first I thought her attention was directed at the smoking gentleman, but I nodded and went up the marble staircase. Most likely, the woman was drunk and made a mistake. Once on the second floor, I lost sight of her. Apparently, there was some kind of presentation going on here. Well-groomed women of Balzac’s age, sparkling with expensive jewelry, drank tea and cakes at tables. They felt like goddesses, forcing fake smiles out of themselves. A poster of a little girl towered over the commotion. They explained to me that the girl had been missing for several years, and asked me to participate in a fundraiser to find the unfortunate girl and other missing children. But there was something wrong with this general noble impulse. I wandered between the tables, still hesitating to get rid of the last coin, and looked into the mouths of these «Mother Teres» who were chewing their buns appetizingly. There were also photographs of the missing on the tables, smeared with the greasy fingers of the searchers. Slightly reeling from the abomination of this event, I decided to leave, but the delicious chomping of the «saviours» around me sharpened my hunger. When I went to the buffet to eat, I noticed the woman who had recently blown me kisses.

«Hello,» she smiled and offered me her hand, but I ignored the casual gesture, devouring a red fish sandwich with both cheeks.

The woman wasn’t offended at all.

«My name is Vera,» she said. – I called you…»

– Wow! I said indifferently and went to the bar, where the waiter was pouring out juices and champagne.

Vera was wearing an elegant evening dress, and a large emerald shone on her ample chest. It was strange to see this well-to-do woman following the barefoot soldier like a bath leaf. We each took a glass of champagne and retreated into the shadow of a pillar.

– I have to Vera said, taking a modest sip while I finished my sandwich. – I don’t have anyone to go to a nightclub with tonight, and my husband’s gone to London.

– There are still men here – " I said, pointing to a boy with a fashionable hairstyle who had just walked in, sporting a pair of thigh-skimming trousers.

«He’s blue,» my companion laughed, showing her even ceramic teeth.

She suddenly noticed that I was glancing earnestly in the direction of the buffet, where the ladies were actively filling their plates.

– Are you hungry?»

I nodded, and her eyes lit up with motherly concern.

«Can I get you anything?»

«Yes, caviar pancakes and cream pie.

When Vera left, I quickly drained my glass of champagne and went to the exit, but she noticed my flight in time and caught up with me on the steps.

– You’re leaving already?» she was slightly upset, holding a plate full of delicacies in her hand.

I nodded apologetically.

– You didn’t like my suggestion?»

– We don’t know each other at all…»

«Sometimes you live with one person all your life and don’t know them at all…»

– What are we going to do?»

«Brighten up my loneliness.» We’ll be drinking Hennessy XO, smoking hookahs, and I don’t mindif you’re attracted to some girl there.

Suddenly, an arrogant old lady intervened in our conversation. Her heavy earrings made the lobes of her flaccid ears look ugly. It was obvious from her demeanor that she was the organizer of this charity event.

– Vera, why did you hide from us your passion for the poor? she smiled haughtily, looking me up and down with a cold stare.

Her predatory, hooked nose suddenly pointed like a vulture’s beak, ready to stab me at any moment.

«Men lose their heads in the company of beautiful ladies, and this one has also lost his shoes,» she said, noticing my bare feet. «How disrespectful to the missing children!

Everything stopped abruptly. The music stopped, the waiters stopped serving glasses and pouring wine, and hundreds of indignant eyes stared at me. A murmur of disapproval passed through the room. Vera took my arm, trying to lead me away from the scandal, but I pulled away.

– Dear ladies, I said, jumping up on one of the tables. – The purpose of such events is to fool you by playing on your empathy. If you really want to help someone, go to the train station. There are a lot of people who are really lost. Real help doesn’t have PR. How can you even help children? Each of you will happily rip out the other’s throat just because she allowed herself to doubt her lofty intentions.

The women rose from their chairs, chewing slowly on their cakes, and surrounded me. They spread their fingers, moving them menacingly like crabs on the prowl. The hostile ring of diamonds and luxury tightened around me. The banner of virtue, suddenly torn from under their feet, was now like a red rag to an angry bull. From smiling and good-natured women, they turned into terrible and ugly furies, eager to tear me apart just because I doubted their virtue.

«Here, you bastard! – I heard from the crowd.

– My brain will explode.» Maybe there’s something I don’t understand in life…

«Trample him, babonki! Trample on it! – the organizer of the evening called for battle, pushing forward the poster of the missing girl, like an icon before the devil.

The old lady clutched her heart, and her faithful friends waved their motley fans around her. Her venomous saliva spattered the parquet floor.

«Natasha, don’t pay any attention to him,» one of them said. – If you pay attention to everyone, you can go crazy.

– It’s scary, because he is not the only one, – the founder of the foundation was amazed. «I wish he’d kept his mouth shut, like most people do. He just impressed me with his pofigizmom. Such a person will pass by a child walking at night in panties.

– Well, such a person is not something that will pass by, he can also do something bad. A moral geek. It is useless to fight it, only it will be more expensive for yourself.

«What if he still has a conscience?» someone whispered softly behind them.

«The man is in complete ecstasy,» boomed one respectable lady.

«Well, the man’s head is obviously not friendly. If he’d had a good doctor, it might have helped.

– We draw attention not to the loss of this girl, but to the problem that children are missing, and volunteers are looking for them. Another insulted person was beating her chest.

– I’m not interested. I said firmly, grinning.

I was still standing on the table, looking down at all this squalor.

«And he’s grinning like an absolute egocentric person.» The navel of the universe. It’s not cured, «one lady tried to push me off the table.

– I forgive you all – - I bowed to these women and jumped down, and they attacked me with shouts and screams, as if a man had accidentally entered the women’s bathhouse. I got out of the pile and grabbed Vera’s arm myself. We hurried away. The commotion upstairs continued for a long time.

DO NOT TELL A WOMAN THAT SHE IS NOT COMPLETELY HAPPY IN HER MARRIAGE

Do not tell a woman that she is unhappy in her marriage, even if it seems true or she wants to hear it. You risk opening Pandora’s box. The curiosity of a married woman will play a cruel joke on her, and even with her husband. You, too.

MALE STRIPTEASE

Our Mercedes sped through the night capital. Vera was driving, and all the way I thought that life is not such an easy thing. She had a husband who was away on business in London, I had no one, and I had nothing in common with this woman. Some unknown force was carrying us towards the unknown. We stopped at the Captain Drake Nightclub. I thought of the Lame Horse, where two hundred people were burned alive. The place was similar. The same narrow corridors, combustible materials. As Vera got out of the car, she gave me a five-thousand-dollar bill.

«Let you have the money.

The guard illuminated the bill and began counting out the change. We were given the best table. The waiter was helpful but talkative, although the loud music made his speech difficult to hear. He treated Vera with undisguised respect, as she often gave him a good tip.

I liked the idea of the club’s designers. The room was decorated like a ship in dark wood. A DJ was working on the mast, and black sailors were standing on the stairs in striped vests and distinctive caps that reminded me of Leo Boniface from the cartoon of my childhood. Energetic music was playing. All the attention of the customers was focused on the dancefloor, where girls were twitching and bouncing in the ultraviolet rays, as if under an electric shock. We ordered XO cognac, juice and Greek salad.

«Choose any one,» Vera shouted to me over the music. «How do you like this one?» she laughed, pointing to one of the dancers.

I looked unconcerned and even yawned, but sometimes my eyes still caught on this or that dancing girl. I loved the way they moved, the way youth breathed in their heated bodies. I knew how easily I could get each of them, imagined them in my arms, mentally stripping off their masks of decency. The girls answered me with smiles and whispered to each other. Everyone thought I was rich, because only a confident and well-to-do person can afford such a quirk as coming to the club in a worn-out soldier’s uniform and barefoot. They wanted to know more about me. No one knew what was going on in my heart, and even Vera was afraid to ask me about it. A young couple was dancing in front of us. The model-looking girl was wearing a shiny open blouse and tight jeans. She danced expertly and gave off smiles to the surrounding men at the same time. Her date was a thin guy with amorous and sad eyes. Obviously a student. I’ve already seen the near-term fate of their relationship. Soon his companion would find a better match, perhaps an older and richer man. Several times our eyes met under the spotlight, and I sensed her intense interest in me.

With Faith, I was silent, but not because of the loud music. I had nothing to talk about with this woman. She was as simple as five kopecks, although she ordered XO. I slowly got drunk, thinking to myself that life was a success if the cognac you were drinking was older than the woman you were sleeping with. Sometimes we would exchange words, leaning closer to each other. There were intimate illusions in the whisper. It was as if we were already conspiratorial lovers. I could feel myself raising her self-esteem by lightly brushing my unshaven cheek against her skin.

My lover suddenly made a displeased face. It turned out that she had caught her expensive stockings on a stud that was sticking out on a chair. I even had to switch chairs, but Vera couldn’t calm down. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

«I can hardly see the arrow,» I said, taking her hand and reassuring her.

– Oscar de la Renta cashmere and silk stockings for $ 990. She was wiping away her tears with a handkerchief.

– On Two hundred thousand people died in Haiti recently, and you’re upset about nothing. I shouted toher over the music.

– You can soothe…»

The waitress came up to us, a young blonde girl who had been talking for a long time with a frustrated Vera, and my companion nodded in understanding.

«She’ll make a good manager,» Vera smiled, watching her go.

– What did she say?»

«Excuse us, please.»

– It’s so simple…»

As a moral compensation, they brought us a hookah. At this moment, the Negro sailors brought out a table on which they placed a black-and-white photograph of a woman, and opposite it a clock with large hands. To an oriental tune, a decrepit old man appeared with a stick. He was wearing a checked jacket and short, old-fashioned trousers with suspenders that showed off his white socks. The audience greeted the actor with a standing ovation. The hands of the clock began to run in the opposite direction. The old man cradled the photograph to his chest. His hands trembled in a rush of memories, and he began to dance, transforming into a young man. Suddenly the gray beard and baldness disappeared. The dancer took off his jacket and showed off the athlete’s body. It was as if he had straightened up, grown taller. The bold gleam of his eyes under false gray brows caught the crowd’s attention. I kept a close eye on the customers, among whom I saw again a girl in a shiny blouse. There was something special about her now that made me instantly want to be close. I could feel her involuntary shudder, hear her heartbeat as I watched the stripper’s movements. He floated in the clouds of her dreams like Apollo, his muscles flashing, his perfect body moving in a beautiful dance. There were tears in her eyes, which made her face even more expressive.

It swayed slightly from side to side, as if it were about to plunge into the abyss. In that disastrous leap, she longed to touch her idol, to smell its scent and feel its power over her. I saw her bite her lip until it hurt. Meanwhile, the dancer was completely naked, covering his body with a red rose. He’d managed to make a lot of women want him, but this girl was the one who’d been most bewitched by his magic. She hugged her slender body with her hands, trembling with excitement, and the fragrance of these delicate petals intoxicated her unripe soul. I could tell by the trembling of her lips that she was praying to God that a stripper among a dozen enthusiastic spectators would not pass by and choose her.

I see him pass by as if he doesn’t notice her. She is afraid that they will choose anotherone. She’s shaking. Lips whisper incantations. Now the wave will cover it. Her fingers are tense on the strap of her belt. They pull down, and her jeans almost fall off her skinny thighs, revealing her navel earring and shaved pubic hair. I look at her poor boyfriend. He’s standing off to the side, paler than a cloud, holding the fruit-decorated cocktail she just rejected. Now she is absorbed in something else. The tempter demon takes her hand and leads her to the center of the dancefloor. Instinctively, she turns her back on the dancer, bending down, ready to give herself to him. He teases her mercilessly, slips a rose under her blouse, touches the petals to her hard nipples. Everyone applauds. She’s crying with happiness… Me too.

Vera is offended and gets up from the table, asks for the bill. He thinks she’s old and ugly, that her time is long gone. She is annoyed by the youth, this carefree laughter. She wants to go home. She says she will punish me for all the pain that men have caused her in her life. When I resist, she digs her fingers into my arm so hard that it hurts. I ask her to hurt me even more, and she slaps me across the cheek with a backhand. I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m not a teddy bear. But still, we go outside.

– You should call a taxi!» I worry, watching her barely stand on her feet.

I’m sick of her torn чулков$ 990 stockings. Those fat thighs are killing my humanity. No wonder I’m throwing up on the hood of her car. Vera gets behind the wheel, but I don’t let her go.

– Get out, s – ka.» You might get killed!

She obediently goes out and throws me a bunch of keys. I love that I called her "s..coy». We’re off.»

HOW I LOVED LIFE

Ramstein was playing. The Moscow Ring Road at night resembled the Milky Way. As I circled at breakneck speed, I overtook the crawlingSchumachersand smiled that strange smile that suddenly appears on the lips in moments of enlightenment. My eyes were closed with fatigue and a completely wild intoxication. Our Mercedes swung sideways when I passed out for a second. My heart sank, and a pleasant wave of adrenaline burned my soul. I loved life, and she loved me. We’d been lovers for almost thirty years, and it was only now, as I slid out of the Milky Way and into the black holes, that I gave myself to her completely, sincerely, irrevocably. A person often has silly and ridiculous thoughts, especially someone like me, but as I looked at the unfamiliar woman on my right, whose sweet head was rising and falling over my lap, I was thinking only of orgasm.

worth WHETHER TO TRUST PEOPLE

Man to man discord. Some people can be trusted, others can’t. If you were deceived, then the fault lies with you, because you did not understand this person and trusted your illusions and hopes. If you perceived this person as a possible deceiver initially and dealt with him for some hidden reasons, and he still upset you, disappointed you, then this was not deception on his part, but self-deception on your part.

THE HUNGER TEST

I can hear the door lock turning, and I can feel the telltale saliva running down my throat. With an unbearable cramp in my stomach, I throw myself against the wall, miserable and insignificant, unwashed and beaten, hating myself for being weak, for being more hungry than I am. The lady always comes in with a plate of red caviar sandwiches that glow teasingly. She starts eating them in front of my miserable eyes. With such a monstrous appetite. The sandwiches melt in this woman’s mouth like snow. She licks her lips, says, «Mmm. How delicious!» This is the easiest test, the easiest… Her husband is still in London. He doesn’t call her at all, doesn’t write letters. Abandoned women want to be comforted. And I start to comfort her. Mistress sits on the edge of the bed, looks at me sadly, and hands me a plate of crumbs.

I kiss her embalmed skin and look away from the plate in shame.

– Well! she sighs heavily and leaves. – You’re not ready yet.»

I know what she wants, I know, and she knows. Another three or four days and I won’t be able to stand it… I will close my greedy jaws on her greasy throat, and nibble and nibble until my Hunger is satisfied.

ABOUT SAD-MAZ

Sometimes it seems to me that God loves sada-maza very much, because all this life is one big sada-maza and all this is for fun.

The room was dark, and a flicker of flame lit up my face. The candle burned out. Paraffin dripped onto the countertop, enveloping the overturned glass. Vera was sitting on the bed with her legs tucked under her. I swung the whip and froze.

– If knowledge increases sorrow, then God is absolute pain?» I asked suddenly.

«Everyone has their own god, you have pain and suffering, I have joy and love – » she turned, baring my back.

The whip fell, leaving a red trail. Vera screamed. I raised the whip over her again, and the flexible, snake-like essence of the whip hovered in the air again, despite the laws of physics.

– You’re not afraid of me at all, «I said with a bitter smile.

– Love is when you are not afraid of anything.

The whip came down again, and the woman screamed again.

– Are you happy with me, my love?» Yes? «What is it?» she asked, her voice trembling in pain.

– No, I’m not happy with you. I don’t feel good because you’re nothing! I slapped her mercilessly on the back.

– And you all… – she repeated, biting her lips in pain.

I was tired, so I put down the whip and sat down on the bed next to it.

«It’s one step from cruelty to pity. Now the devil and God are holding hands.

I felt sorry for this poor woman. I leaned down and kissed her shoulders and neck.

the escape

The next night I decided to run away. It wasn’t because I couldn’t stand all the vulgarities anymore. Not at all! I must admit that I found myself enjoying being with Vera, being a partaker of her ugly loneliness and wounded ego, which poured out on my head the dregs of a perverted understanding of love. All madness degrades and bores. I was so aware of this trend that I knew exactly what Vera would do in the next few days. She has already consulted with a plastic surgeon in my presence on how to make a woman out of a man. They discussed my fate as if it were a matter of changing my hair. Vera giggled into the phone, marveled at the simplicity of the operation, and was indignant at knocking down the price. Then she would calm me down like a silly child, babbling that Mikhail Iosifovich was a first-class specialistст в свin his field, who had been trained in one of the best Israeli clinics. «Honey, you’ll thank me again!» – she made grand plans, showing me her new breasts with such pride that I had to agree. Perhaps at the last minute, before the surgeon’s scalpel would have cut off my manhood, she would have come up to me and kissed my trembling lips with tears in her eyes, looking into my eyes, hoping to see a plea for mercy. Perhaps she would have hesitated after all. But what I do not doubt is that she was surprised by my sudden disappearance from the locked room. She didn’t believe in phantoms.

Vera promised to buy me a white yacht and help me with a trip to India, even though I knew that all these were just promises and nothing more. Sooner or later, she would have just dissolved me in sulfuric acid and flushed me down the toilet, as she always did with those who bothered her.