Letters from beyond - Тигрис Рафаэль

colorful umbrella.

For the first time in his life, Robert regretted that he was not, in addition to the master of the pen, also the master of the brush. As the great Pushkin would say, such a woman cannot be described in fairy tales, nor described with a pen.

“So it was God's will that I did not remain alone for long,” he rejoiced.

Robert's legs themselves went towards the lady sparkling with all the colors of life. The first thing that caught Robert's eye was her stately posture.

— Are you bored? — he asked.

— There is some. And you? — she asked, pointing to Robert's writing.

— Very much, — he answered, tearing Kshesinskaya's letter into small pieces.

In the next moment, the surging wind carried away the remnants of the message to the deceased, either to the depths of the sea, or to the next world, leaving the idyll of the newly-made couple alone.

— Let me introduce myself! Robert Jackson, journalist from New York.

— Very nice Helen Vertinskaya — ballet soloist. Invited to tour at Carnegie Hall.

So that's where such a posture and a body like a string come from. Wow, again a ballerina and again a prima. Robert noticed expensive jewelry on Helen — and there is a similarity, the presence of rich admirers is obvious — he thought.

— Did I surprise you? — Helen asked, sensing Robert's confusion.

— No no. On the contrary, they rejoiced. I was lucky enough to have time to interview in Paris the former prima ballerina Matilda Kshesinskaya herself.

— Oh, how interesting! Let's go to the salon and you tell me everything in detail about this over a cup of coffee. Although I was born in France, my roots, like those of Kshesinskaya, are from Russian emigration.

The cabin of the ship was cozy and warm. Journalist Robert was, by definition, an excellent storyteller, and Helen was an attentive listener, plus — there is a commonality of interests and mutual topics.

Outwardly, Robert liked Helen, but Kshesinskaya reeked of her: ballet fame, rich fans, expensive gifts, and this repelled the journalist.

Robert told Helen in detail about the events of recent days, without concealing details about the life of a ballerina and the origin of her jewelry.

— Robert! You probably think that I am the same as Matilda?

— Why do you think so?

— It's written on your face, — Helen said with a smile, — I'm wearing family jewels, I'm not spoiled by fame and admirers either. So drive away old Kshesinskaya from consciousness. It interferes with our communication.

— Tell me then about your personal life.

Helen's face immediately became serious.

— It's a long story, Robert. I'll tell you sometime in closer communication.

The ship continued to cross the Atlantic inexorably and the nautical miles rushed after the time that Robert and Helen whiled away, continuing to communicate and talk sweetly, which made their relationship warmer and sympathy gradually increased. In the evenings, they were smartly dressed in the salon and drank various drinks to the relaxing music of the pianist.

— Let’s drink something strong today — suggested Robert.

— For example?

— Good cognac.

— You can’t get rid of Kshesinskaya’s lifestyle in any way?

— Matilda has nothing to do with it, dear Helen. I have always loved cognac. Would you prefer whiskey and soda?

— No. If you drink equally, then preferably the same drink.

Together they emptied a good bottle, having a bite of sweets, which is why their cheerful, carefree conversation was sometimes interrupted by laughter.

— Now is the time to share the personal, — Robert reminded him.

Ellen immediately became sad.

— You don't want to, you don't have to.

— Well, why not, but how could it be without it. But it needs more intimacy. Who do you think will have a wider cabin?

— I don't think they are different.

— Well, then let's go to mine. I need a familiar environment.

— Let's go, but first we'll have one more drink.

— I don't mind, but this time I propose to brotherhood?

— Great idea!

After a fair portion of cognac, the mutual kiss on the lips turned out to be more than frank and long.

— And it's nice to kiss you.

— Mutually.

Despite the lights being off, the cabin was not dimmed in any way. The reason for this was the bright external illumination of the ship, which made it look as elegant as a Christmas tree from afar.

— We'll have to undress in the light. Does not it confuse you?

— Not a bit.

— Then I'm the first to take a shower.

Helen pulled off her dress and a small bra showed her compact chest, which was not needed in the ballerina's dance. Then she rolled down her pantyhose for a long time and scrupulously, demonstrating strong muscular legs. Pear-shaped calves descending to the feet, protruding knees and the whole mass of hips rushing upwards, turning into massive breathtaking buttocks, which are the main driven force of ballet dance.

Robert, who for the first time beheld such a muscular splendor of the female body, stood as if betrothed. Helen, on the other hand, fully enjoyed the impression that she made with the power of her nakedness.

— Before I sober up, let's take a shower together.

— Yes, there are places on half of my priests.

— And we'll put them together, if you don't mind.

After warming up in the shower, they proceeded to full-fledged intercourse already on the bed.

Robert, who had previously had a long abstinence, gave free rein to his flesh and very soon found himself at the very top of male satisfaction.

Unlike him, Helen perceived their joint act more sportily, with less emotion.

“Something is wrong with these ballerinas,” thought Robert, leaning back, “do they have little experience? If Kshesinskaya was such a roach in bed, then one wonders with what fright royal people pick up to her?

— You promised to tell about your personal.

— And what is there to tell. Solid disappointments.

— Just share them.

— I somehow had the misfortune of being married to my impresario, but