All books about: "Oldman's stories." Holiday romance, or the little sin of an exemplary wife Story boys all parts by oldman

Resort life

Part one

If you happen to be born in an empire, it is better to live in a remote province by the sea. I remembered approximately these lines when we got off the bus. The village was a typical example of a remote, by local standards, province. Well, taking into account what exactly is considered wilderness on the Black Sea coast. A small village in which every barn is rented out in the summer to people from the more northern regions of their homeland. Father picked up the suitcases and led us in the direction of the sea, easily identified by the smell. Somewhere there, “Great house, near the beach, and inexpensive!” was already waiting for us, which was recommended to my father by one of my friends. So we went, having previously called the owners and knowing exactly where we would live.

They were waiting for us. The owner, a very elderly granny, showed us a hefty barn with windows at the far end of the yard, almost hidden by overgrown bushes:

Won. . You will live there... Just don’t get confused - your door is on the left.

Upon closer inspection, the barn turned out to be clearly dual-purpose. I mean, it was divided in half into two, um. . apartments. In ours there was one large room with three beds - my sister and I had one each, and our parents had a large one, a wardrobe and bedside tables, a small hallway, which, due to the presence of a table and an electric stove, was a kitchen... and that's it. To be honest, judging by the enthusiastic descriptions, I expected more. The second half of the barn, apparently, was exactly the same. As grandma said, they already live there, but now they are on the beach.

We also went to the beach. The first inconvenience immediately emerged - in order for my mother and sister to change clothes, my father and I were kicked out into the street.

It’s okay, we’ll come back and we’ll turn the closet across. - Dad promised - There will be at least some semblance of two rooms.

In general, this did not spoil the mood at all. We are at sea last time I don’t even remember when. Either there was not enough time, then there was not enough money... This time everything worked out well, besides, Ritka and I were finishing school next year - that is, the Unified State Exam, admission and all that. In general, there will definitely be no time for rest.

The beach, of course, also turned out to be rustic. Just a strip of sand overgrown with withered grass stretching along the sea for about a hundred meters. Along the edges the shore rose, turning into a cliff, leaving a narrow rocky strip near the water, completely unsuitable for recreation. There were, however, enough people. About fifteen people lounged on towels in different poses, exposing the sun to varying degrees of tanned body. A few splashed in the water, which surprised me with its transparency. Well, yes, there’s no one in particular to spoil. Ritka and I, of course, took the plunge first. At this time, mom and dad arranged a bed for us, and then replaced us in the water. I collapsed with my belly up and began to look at the people around me. Ritka was doing the same thing.

F-f-fuuu... - she said after a while - Not a single decent guy!

And at home this one of yours... what’s his name... Dimka seems... decent or what?

Dimka, Lately hovering around my sister did not arouse my sympathy.

You can compare too... At least better than some! - she poked me in the side with her fist.

I must say, contrary to popular belief about twins, Ritka and I were not particularly close. From a certain age she began to have her own friends and interests, I have my own company. So I knew little about Dimka and therefore did not argue.

Come on, move! Lie down here! - I heard my father’s voice.

He and my mother quietly approached, discovering that my sister and I had taken up all the space prepared for four. Mom, with her hands on her hips, stood opposite me, expressing indignation with her entire appearance. Purely out of spite, I was in no hurry to make room for them, brazenly staring at her, involuntarily assessing my mother’s figure against the background of the pale blue sky. The hair, gathered at the back of the head, revealed a beautiful neck, heavy breasts, supported by a swimsuit, protruded forward, the belly, rounded and convex, at the bottom smoothly turned into the pubis hidden by panties. Then the panties went in a wide strip between the legs, not allowing the thighs to close at the very top, but below the plump thighs touched each other, tapering towards the knees and turning into beautiful ankles. I thought about Ritka - it turned out that, minus their age, they were very similar. Body proportions, demeanor... Only Ritka’s shape was much more modest, but with age, it will probably appear. My thoughts were interrupted by my father, who unceremoniously rolled my sister and me to the sides.

That's better! - the parents lay down between us, almost pushing us out onto the grass.

Well, okay! - Ritka jumped up. - Fed, let's go into the water!

In the evening we met our neighbors. The family turned out to be very similar to ours, even our son, Mishka, turned out to be about our age, but his sister Ira was a little older. Not much, just a year or two. Of course, no one bothered to find out the exact age. On the occasion of the acquaintance, a feast was held, to which the hostess was also invited. Granny readily agreed, sharing a hefty bottle of her own wine. At the same time, another inhabitant of our yard, whom we did not suspect, turned out to be at the table - grandma’s granddaughter. The guy was traditionally sent here for the summer since childhood, and he was tired of it long ago. However, having entered the institute, he had not been here for three years, and now he came, deciding to remember his youth. Now, judging by his appearance, he greatly regretted it.

We sat in the company of our ancestors for barely an hour. Then their conversations about life in this heavenly place (according to some vacationers) or in this godforsaken hole (according to local residents) we're tired of. The youth moved to the grass near the fence, where, however, we also began to ask Oleg how he was living here. The grandson complained uncontrollably about life. As it turned out, before, every year a warm group of people like him gathered here and it was fun. Now everyone has grown up, graduated from school and gone everywhere, categorically not wanting to return to their old life. This year, out of a company of a dozen people, only two of them were here - he and someone else, Igor. He was lured here by Oleg, himself driven by a fit of nostalgia and infecting his friend with it, for which he now listened to a lot of reproaches every day. In a word - melancholy. We sympathized loudly and nodded, agreeing with every word he said, while trying to figure out what kind of entertainment there was here.

Yes, nothing in general... I’m suffering myself. Well, do you want to go for a swim? - he suggested. - Now is the time - the sun has set, the water is warm, there is no one on the beach...

The sea actually turned out to be warm. After drinking to our heart's content, we climbed ashore, shivering from the evening cool.

You have to wring out your swimming trunks. And swimsuits. - Oleg suggested. - Otherwise we'll freeze.

What, right here? - Ritka didn’t understand.

Well... - Oleg understood what she wanted to say. - We are here, and you can go over there, under the cliff. Nobody will see.

The cliff in question was located at the edge of the beach.

Yeees...? - Irka peered into the darkness. - Is there anyone there?

No one. Who could be there?

No, I'm afraid...

Do you want me to go with you? - Oleg suggested.

Here's another! So that I by a stranger went to where it’s already scary?

Ir, let’s Fedka come with us? - Ritka suggested. - I know him.

Irka looked at me:

Let's go...

They left me at the very edge, telling me to turn away and never turn around, while they themselves walked a few steps further. I struggled with myself for a long time, looking in the opposite direction from them, but then I nevertheless turned to the sea, pretending to look at the waves lazily rolling onto the shore. Having squinted my eyes a little to the left, I discovered that the girls were undressing with their backs turned to me, and then I openly stared in their direction. They bent down a little and carefully twisted their swimsuits. In the twilight, the girl’s buttocks were white, the thin Ritkins, it seemed, not even touching each other, and the more rounded Irkins. Irka already had a visible tan mark. In addition, turning slightly sideways, she showed me her right breast. More precisely, only the shape of an untanned cone, looking forward and down. All attempts to see what was between their legs failed - it was dark and far away. I did not admire for long - as soon as they began to dress, I took my original position.

*****
(From the series “LIFE STORIES”)
With minor abbreviations.

"The holiday romance ends quickly, but
will be remembered for a lifetime."
(S. Smirnov)

Oh, these holiday romances, sanatorium love stories!..
This probably won’t surprise anyone now: it’s a common phenomenon! Who hasn't ever had them, right?
And they are attractive primarily for their brightness and transience.
And also... impunity (without consequences)! – if... you’re lucky, of course!..

The vacation ends, the resort lovers leave for their cities, and only... pleasant memories remain. No one makes serious plans when having an affair on vacation, so usually the relationship is not burdensome and non-binding. The husband (wife) will not find out about anything, in general, everyone is happy! After all, this brings such variety to the gray everyday life, it gives such a surge of adrenaline!

And there are so many jokes, novels, films about this - it’s a fertile topic!
And they are not created from scratch.

PART ONE. "Indian Summer" in the sanatorium

I knew Shura for a long time.

Pretty, youthful - and that must be why - a little eccentric, cheerful and easy to talk to, she always attracted the most different people, because she treated them with great warmth and trust, she was always ready to provide anyone with a wide variety of assistance - and not only medical (and Shura worked immediately after graduating from medical school as a nurse in a regional hospital).

And, as if as a reward for her kindness and responsiveness, she got a smart and decent guy in all respects: calm, modest, kind, hard-working. And, most importantly, non-drinker!
Ukrainian Grisha (or rather, Ukrainian Jew) turned out to be a good family man And loving husband and father. He always made good money (he was a mechanic in a garage), he brought everything into the house, “before sebe - into the family!” - as he used to say.

And Shura was a match for him: a good housewife, an exemplary wife and a caring mother of their two sons.
Unlike mine (turbulent and short-lived!), her family life from the very beginning was quite calm and prosperous.
They married early and, it seems, even for love. But, as Shura said, there was no stormy passion between them even in their youth, and even more so now - after all, they have been together for more than twenty years. They know everything about each other, and the relationship is smooth, more likely friendly than marital.
They got along well, Shura valued her quiet Grisha and said that she followed him like a stone wall.

Many even envied her!

***
...But not everything is as smooth as it may sometimes seem from the outside!

It must be said that Shura was prone to excitement: she always loved to play lotto and cards - for money, she bought lottery tickets in the hope of winning herself a car - she, having watched enough of American and Brazilian TV series, had long dreamed of how, like the heroines of these beautiful films, she would drive herself and imagined herself as a kind of “car lady”.

With age, primitive and monotonous sex with her quiet husband, a woman by nature quite juicy, energetic and temperamental, no longer suited her very much.
But, since Shura, without gaining sexual experience, got married early and has always been faithful wife, she had nothing and no one to compare her husband with.

And she, it seemed, had no intention of cheating on her Grisha; she didn’t even have such thoughts in her head. But somewhere, latently, she was dissatisfied with him, or rather, with her dull and insipid intimate life.

***
...And I was convinced more than once that even the most devoted husbands and wives at least once cheated on their faithful and beloved “halves”, breaking up for a short time!

For example, I do not believe that there is at least one husband (a healthy and normal man!) who does not take advantage of the opportunity - if it presents itself - to taste the sweetness of the forbidden fruit, no matter how much he loves his wife. And, interestingly, none of them considers going “to the left” to be treason: they say it is a primitive physiological process that is constantly necessary for a healthy man. “Physiology” - how they usually justify their... maleness!
Any average alpha male almost always has a great opportunity to go beyond the meager marital duties and realize his deepest desires and sexual fantasies in the abyss of casual sex.

And some wives will not yield to such “faithful” husbands! Especially when leaving home: on a business trip, to a resort, to a holiday home.
When the opportunity arises to have a little fun “on the side” (without any damage to the family!), not everyone can resist and refuse such a temptation.

An easy, non-binding holiday romance doesn’t threaten anything!..

One day in early autumn, at the height of the “velvet season,” I was terribly lucky: I got a (very inexpensive!) last-minute ticket to a very prestigious sanatorium in Primorye. Not far from Vladivostok, on the most beautiful Cote d'Azur!
I was also lucky with the weather: it was my favorite warm and beautiful season, popularly called “Indian summer.” Golden autumn! And she's on Far East, in Primorye, surprisingly good!

On the very first day, as soon as I settled in, I hurried to the beach. The water in the sea was surprisingly warm, the sand was clean and hot, and the mood, accordingly, was excellent!
And in the evening, when I came with Lyudmila, my roommate, to the House of Culture for a disco, I was surprised to see a familiar face there.
It was Shura! She arrived a day earlier, but I didn’t even know about it, being a day late for the sanatorium.

***
...Shura, smart and cheerful, enjoyed great success among representatives of the opposite sex, especially among those who are well over... ...twenty. Most often she was invited to a waltz.
I've always loved fast dancing, but I don’t dance the waltz very well. Therefore, I mostly watched the dancers when the musicians (“live”!) played the waltz, or chatted with my newly minted “beau” - the same non-fan of waltzes.

And Shura danced superbly!
I especially liked the fast waltzes in her truly virtuoso performance. She simply flew around the huge hall - fortunately, there was room to turn around!
Her partners, especially those who were no longer very young, were gradually exhausted, but for her - no matter what!
It seemed like she could dance like that until the morning!

But, unfortunately, the regime is the regime. The sanatorium has its own rules, and at exactly eleven, to everyone’s chagrin, the dancing ended.

Two of our new acquaintances accompanied her and Lyudmila and I to the dormitory buildings (and Shura and I lived in different ones).
We stood there for a little while, chatted, laughed at their jokes, and everyone went to their rooms: Lyudmila and I went to ours, and the gentlemen went to theirs.
Although, of course, they wouldn’t mind not doing this, but coming to us... for a glass of tea!

The next day we met Shura for breakfast, then lunch and dinner.
And so - every day. She always sat at the same table with some married couple, very old and, apparently, very boring interlocutors for the sociable Shurochka.

...Several days have passed.

Everything went as it should once and for all, the established sanatorium order: breakfast, oxygen cocktail, medical and health procedures, swimming in the sea or in the pool, medicinal baths, lunch, sleep, afternoon tea, dinner, walks, sometimes excursions into nature or to a concert, and, of course, cinema and dancing.
I became friends with Lyudmila, and we had fun.

Shura and I also sometimes “crossed paths” somewhere, but we didn’t really communicate. She had her own company!

***
...One day I saw a man sit down at my brother-in-law’s table, whom I had noticed next to her on that first evening at the disco.

Shura called him Boris. He was clearly younger than Shura - eight to ten years old, dark-skinned, rather handsome, looking like a Caucasian (later it turned out that he was almost a Caucasian: half Armenian, half Russian).
They talked cheerfully about something, and then left the dining room together.
Since then, he, too, sat at Shurochka’s table.

***
...Probably Shura was emitting some special vibes back then, as they say now - pheromones that attracted sanatorium men who were bored away from their wives to her, those same alpha male hunters who always abound in such places. Moreover, all of them, as a rule, are here... “single”! And they can smell a mile away that a woman... “wants... adventure”!

And this, of course, did not go unnoticed by Boris - apparently a big fan and major “expert” in the field of resort affairs!

I, a lonely woman at that time (and relatively free: a man was waiting for me at home, an affair with whom, unexpectedly for both of us, lasted for many years and consisted of endless meetings and partings), I was wondering: would our Shurochka, “a faithful wife and virtuous mother”, survive? , in front of such a temptation that appeared before her in the guise of a hot and cheerful macho from the Caucasus?!

***
...And here we are with mine new girlfriend Lyudmila even... made a bet, watching everything that was happening!
She said that this is not the first time she has seen something like this and is sure that our respectable Shurochka is no exception to this. general rule: can't resist a holiday romance.

And knowing Shura, for some reason I was sure that she would survive! But how wrong I was (and, alas, I lost the bet - expensive French champagne - to Lyudmila)!

...The freedom and relaxedness, even a certain swagger, present in her relationship with Boris, I must admit, surprised me a little and did not at all speak in favor of Shura’s integrity, in which, as I already said, for some reason I was sure - well, if not 100%, then 99.9 for sure!

Sometimes she even behaved in an emphatically youthful way - defiantly, as if forgetting about her age (she was almost forty) and that she was the mother of two adult sons.
This was especially noticeable in the restaurant where we decided to celebrate Lyudmila’s birthday.

We booked a table in advance for four: me, Lyudmila, her boyfriend and Shura.
We didn’t invite our new boyfriend friends, and there was no conversation about Boris, and therefore Lyudmila and I were very surprised to see him - at our table, next to Shurochka, who was blooming with happiness!

***
...All evening she drank a lot, chatted incessantly and laughed very loudly and unnaturally - as usually happens with tipsy and broken women.
Dancing with Boris, she literally hung on him, pressing her whole body against the man, as if... she wanted to merge with him!

In general, Shura behaved like... an approachable girl! And it was all the more strange because she wasn’t one! - as far as I knew her.

***
Our “sweet couple” (Lyudmila and I dubbed them that way with Boris!) left the evening before everyone else.

And, as I later found out, Shura... spent the night with Boris!
She excitedly told me that with him she forgot about everything and behaved completely uninhibited: she allowed everything and was incredibly active herself - not at all like with her husband.

Apparently, the wine she drank, or rather the amount of it, relieved the tension and all sorts of moral prohibitions that she had absorbed from her youth, born in the USSR.
Boris was an incredibly skilled lover, and sex with him, in her words, was “just fantastic!”

It is quite possible that, not being very experienced in these “amorous matters,” our Shurochka simply idealized her new boyfriend and therefore clearly exaggerated his sexual capabilities and abilities - well, of course, in comparison with her husband, he may have been for her "macho"!

She was secretly looking for beautiful romantic relationships, having read modern romance novels and having seen enough of all sorts of sugary and tearful “soap operas” and not finding them with her Grisha in the family, she found (as it seemed to her!) here in the sanatorium.

Shura dreamed of getting from Boris what she always secretly wanted and did not receive from her modest and silent husband, who was not at all experienced in the art of love...

She said that Grisha in bed (and not only!) never called her affectionate names, and at night he simply silently, without any gentle foreplay, habitually “did his job,” and then immediately fell asleep... snoring like a locomotive!..

And Boris called her beauty, queen, sunshine! And... he hung Shurochka long beautiful noodles on her small ears with pearl earrings!..

***
But, according to my observations, they and Boris also have a special Great love and there was no romance even close. So, naked sex!..

Where are declarations of love, flowers, meetings under the moon, dinners by candlelight - all that we, women, miss so much in everyday life? family life and what do we expect so much from gallant gentlemen-lovers?!

Not looking like a passionate lover, Boris... just slept with her because it was so very convenient for him, that's all!
And she, naive and trusting, like a girl, wrapping his noodles in the form of tender words around her ears, took THIS for love!..

Or maybe she herself fell in love with him, having been working toward this for a long time?!..

***
...Time in the sanatorium flew by cheerfully and unnoticed.
Golden autumn and “Indian summer” were ending, the time of prolonged and tedious rains, melancholy and runny nose began...

We left home together with Shura, and I saw that she, like me, was returning to in a great mood, prettier, fresher.

The husband was very happy to see her like this: rested, healed and literally 10 years younger.
Grisha, of course, had no idea who else contributed to this, and therefore thanked the sanatorium doctors and the healing sea air.

PART TWO. "Kinder Surprise"!

As they say, everything comes to an end – both good and bad. And thank God!

That short-lived autumn resort “fairytale” was over, and we had to continue living.

IN Everyday life Shura, as she told me, did not even think about cheating on her husband: “For a love affair, your head must be free - from washing, ironing, cooking and other daily womanly worries!” But, inspired by her hot holiday romance, she was going to next year go to a sanatorium - without my husband, of course, and, of course, not deny myself anything there.

Life went on as usual; again, as before, family worries piled up, and the sanatorium “love” began to gradually be forgotten...

***
...And after a while Shura called me and excitedly and frightenedly told me that she was... pregnant! And, most likely, this is... Boris's child!

Such a surprise!

And then she also received a letter from that same Boris - by regular mail, post restante (they then exchanged addresses, just in case, although she did not even think of corresponding with him, knowing that he was married).
Boris announced that he would soon be arriving on a business trip for a few days and was very insistent on their meeting.

And Shura came to me in the evening to consult what she should do. She really wanted to see him too!

Actually, I don’t really like giving advice in this kind of matter - it’s a thankless job! Everyone has their own head on their shoulders!

I remembered a well-known joke where there is such a phrase: “If she died, she died!” And I told Shura that the good thing about a holiday romance is that it usually doesn’t have a continuation, that it doesn’t involve any claims, reproaches or obligations.
Everyone wants joy in life. But there is no such thing as an eternal holiday! Yes, and they will get boring, holidays, quickly if they are constant. Remember the guests - how tired we get of them! Therefore, apparently, they say that “ good guest- three days!"

Grisha was blissfully ignorant and lived calmly, and if this semi-Caucasian “macho” had appeared in their established, stable life again, Shura would have had to, like any unfaithful wife, lie and dodge, invent something in order to go on a date with him .

But she has a prosperous marriage, which many envy, and there is no point in spoiling or destroying it because of such nonsense.
It’s not for nothing that they say: “They don’t seek good from goodness!”* Well, I gave in once, and that’s enough! It's time to put a dot or a fat blot on that love story!

And one more thing: why does she need this unexpected – sanatorium – “Kinder surprise”?! Not only is it not from her husband, but it’s too late, it seems, she’s already not young, and look, she’ll soon become a grandmother!..

***
It was approximately in this spirit that I told Shura everything.
And she answered me:

But I really want... a little one!.. What if there will finally be a girl?!.. And I also want... with my Grishka... to be the same in bed as with that damned Boris!

I want real sex! – Shura admitted to me.

But this, my dear, is not a problem now!
First, you can have an abortion.
Secondly, with the abundance of all kinds of literature, videos, an army of sexologists and psychologists, you can finally learn a lot! And it’s quite possible to engage in self-improvement in the art of love. If only there was time and desire - both of them, of course!

And then (to finally put Shurochka’s dislocated brains in place!) I added:

In general, stop fooling around, friend! God forbid, your Grisha finds out about everything - what then?! Husbands like him are not to be thrown around! – look, otherwise our divorcees will quickly pick you up! There are three times fewer men on Earth than women - they have become extinct, like mammoths and dinosaurs!..

But... Everyone has their own head on their shoulders and their own life!

Shurochka did not listen to me and... at her own peril and risk... gave birth.

Another boy! So dark-skinned, dark-skinned, looking like a gypsy! But it’s good that her Grisha is almost the same - curly and black-eyed.
Therefore, no one suspected anything.

And most importantly, Boris does not know that his son is now growing up in the Far East. There, at home, in the Caucasus, he has two children (and maybe someone else has already been born, a third or fourth!).

And thank God he doesn’t know! Why does he need this?

***
...Several years have passed.

One day we met Shura in a neighboring town (they later moved there!).
And she boasted to me that now everything is “top” with her husband, Grisha loves the last boy madly - even more than those two (her own!).

What about “your” macho Boris – the “sexual giant of the Caucasus”? – I winked and teased Shurochka.

Yes, my Grisha is still a man! That's who... a sex giant!!! And that Boris... is no match for him! Of course, I thank him for my son - he turned out to be such a nice little boy!

This little, cute “sin-Grishok” is now growing among us!.. (They called him Grisha too!) That’s what we call him: Little Grisha, Gregory the Second!

Years have passed...
Much water has passed under the bridge, a lot has changed both in my life and in the country.

I know from friends that Shura and her husband, Grisha the Great, Gregory the First, live well and amicably. Both of their common sons got married, they already have a granddaughter from their eldest son, their universal darling and favorite.

And that boy, the sanatorium “Kinder Surprise,” is already a teenage schoolboy. Smart, obedient, he is growing up - his parents and teachers cannot be happier with him, little black-eyed Grisha!

They certainly say: “There was no happiness, so misfortune helped!”
Shurochka’s memory for the rest of her life now remains from that resort adventure!

And to have fun at the sanatorium... Shura doesn’t go anymore! - There is no need, he says, to seek goodness from goodness: she and her Grisha are happy!
They love each other!

And God forbid!

Note

*The original title of the story was: “They do not seek good from good!”
Based on real events.
But ALL names have been changed, and any matches with real people- pure coincidence.

© Olga Blagodareva, 2012

Varvara never considered herself particularly lucky. And how successful can a woman be if she is married to an alcoholic, raising a son who is a poor student and lives in a small two-room apartment with an elderly mother-in-law who is constantly ill? Plus the hard work of a crane operator. Plus a constant lack of money. Plus the rowdy neighbors behind the wall... Therefore, Varvara dragged out her life sadly, with her lips pursed in displeasure.

Varvara would never have bought a ticket to the sanatorium if it weren’t for cousin Nina. She persuaded her relative, persuaded her to think about herself at least a little:

Well, how long can you pull your strap! – Ninka was indignant. – You are a young woman, not an old woman!

Yes, of course, it’s good for you to reason,” Varvara answered sadly, as always. “You have a good husband, and your daughter went to college and is on a budget!” And you yourself are always smiling...

It’s as if someone forbids you to smile,” Ninka was perplexed. - Life, dear, is such a thing that it will turn out the way you want. Come on, shake yourself up, go to a sanatorium, unwind. Your idiots will not be lost without you, nothing, they will somehow end up in a couple of weeks.

Varvara hesitated for a long time. But one day I thought: “I’ll go!” Am I damned or what?
And off she went.

At first, Varvara really didn’t like it at the sanatorium. Firstly, because the roommate turned out to be a loud, noisy woman who immediately began to tell dirty jokes and brag about her victories over men.

“You yourself are shaking your shameless hem in front of them,” Varvara thought with hostility, looking at her talkative neighbor.

Secondly, Varvara found the cuisine of the sanatorium bland and tasteless.

Thirdly, she began to be burdened by loneliness, or more precisely, separation from her family. Let the husband be an alcoholic, and the son a loafer, but his own, relatives...

But three days later, a meeting took place in the dining room that changed Varvara’s further rest. A middle-aged, plump man suddenly sat down at her table, started talking, and made a couple of compliments. Varvara, who had not heard such kind words from her husband for a long time, became embarrassed and turned pink. The man seemed pleasantly surprised and continued his attack. By the end of dinner, he was already humming in a low voice the half-forgotten hit “Oh, what a woman, I wish I had one like that...”

Varvara already knew that Boris Nikolaevich was an engineer, had come to the sanatorium “to take a break from production,” and was a widower. That Boris Nikolaevich’s adult daughter has long been a permanent resident in America, and that his grandchildren speak English better than Russian. That grandfather rarely visits them. That he often lacks female warmth and participation. And that it was precisely a woman like Varvara that he needed, because she strongly reminded him even in appearance of his deceased wife.

Varvara was surprised: how can you open up like that in just half an hour? to a stranger? But she herself did not notice how she began to tell Boris Nikolaevich about the difficult life of a woman. About a good-for-nothing husband. About a hooligan son. About the always dissatisfied mother-in-law. About hard work. And about the fact that for the last five years the whole family has been forgetting about her, Varvarin’s, birthday...

I cried, and it seemed easier. Boris Nikolaevich listened, nodded, and was generally a great guy - few people can tolerate a woman’s whining like that without interrupting.

Darling,” said Boris Nikolaevich, “you and I will become friends.” Let's spend the evenings together. We'll walk and talk. More fun with two!

Varvara happily agreed.

These two weeks passed in one breath. Waking up, she smiled, knowing that she would meet Boris Nikolaevich at breakfast, and then they would go for a walk. And after dinner they will go to the nearest city, maybe go to the cinema, to the park. And they will talk and talk again...

The day the trip expired became a mourning day for Varvara. She didn't want to leave! The sanatorium began to seem like a magical place where, if all dreams do not come true, some of them certainly do!

Boris Nikolaevich, of course, walked her to the bus and helped her carry her suitcase. At parting, he put a note in his pocket:

This is here... my number... call me if anything happens...

Varvara couldn't stand it. She grabbed Boris Nikolaevich by the neck, pressed herself against him and began to sob.

“Well, dear,” he awkwardly tried to console, “we’ll take another walk.” Necessarily!

Varvara suddenly felt ashamed of crying, pushed Boris Nikolaevich away and hurriedly went to take her place.

And only when the bus started moving, Varvara allowed herself to look out the window: Boris Nikolaevich, apparently, was waiting for this last, farewell glance and did not go anywhere, hoping for it. Varvara smiled forcefully, breathed on the glass and drew a heartfelt picture. Boris Nikolaevich laughed. It's just kind of sad. Why have fun? It's always sad to part.

The days flowed by as usual. The alcoholic husband drank and fought. My son brought back bad marks from school with alarming regularity. The mother-in-law, once again falling into bed, declared herself dying and demanded increased attention to her person. Varvara rushed about, trying to please everyone and forgetting about herself. And only before going to bed, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream, to remember her walks with Boris Nikolaevich. Go through all the moments of meetings held with him. Cry quietly: how good it was! And then look with hatred at her husband snoring next to him...

...Varvara never called Boris Nikolaevich. But she kept the note. For what? She doesn't know. As a memory of a trip to a sanatorium.

I woke up this morning in a great mood. Fortunately, the fear that I wouldn’t get enough sleep in the new place was not confirmed. Lying down, I looked around the room; it was quite cozy and spacious. The room turned out to be a double room, but my neighbor was not there yet.

I had never been to a sanatorium before, and then the management of our company decided to reward me with a voucher for many years of conscientious work. I didn’t want to go right away, but my husband and children insisted on a vacation.

I opened the balcony and inhaled the fresh aroma of the forest. It was quiet and warm, and opposite me, on a thick pine branch, sat a squirrel. She didn’t seem to notice me, she was gnawing on something with her paws, and then suddenly ran away. I smiled and thought that I would probably like it here. In addition, my digestive system has been in need of attention for a long time. And there is always no time for treatment. This is where it will be: diet, treatment, rehabilitation after corporate events at work.

After breakfast, I returned to the room, and even outside the door I realized that there was someone there.

Oh, hello! – exclaimed a pretty woman about forty years old. – I’m your new neighbor, my name is Natalya Petrovna. Do not you mind?

How can I object, please settle down!

I was glad that I wouldn’t be here alone, and my neighbor looked nice. The downside came later; she turned out to be very talkative. Even too much. But there was nowhere to go, I had to listen to everything about my husband, adult children, annoying mother-in-law and the black cat Stepan, a sloth and a mischief-maker.

Are there many men here? – she suddenly asked.
- I don’t know, I didn’t pay attention.
- But I always pay attention, this is not the first time I’ve been to a sanatorium, and I always find myself interesting company, - she winked playfully and smiled.

I remembered this phrase in the evening, when a gray-haired man shyly entered our room. He brought a box of chocolates and flowers, in my opinion, similar ones I saw in the flowerbed behind our building.

No, no, don’t even think about refusing,” Natalya Petrovna chirped, looking at me, “look what I brought with me!” We need to mark the beginning and get to know each other better.

I looked at the table set: a steamy bottle of vodka, sausage, caviar and a jar of small, pickled, home-made tomatoes. The smell of chopped sausage and brine filled my nose. “Oh, come on, this diet!” - I thought. The guest's face broke into a smile, and he began to look like a March cat. But I quickly made it clear to him that I was participating in the feast only as an interlocutor. That's why he showered compliments on Natalya Petrovna all evening.

And I rethought the conclusion that I was lucky with the company over the next week. Receiving guests every evening and going to bed late was quite exhausting. I was already planning to talk about this with Natalya Petrovna, but I kept putting off the conversation. On Sunday after breakfast, unnoticed, as I thought then, I ran away from my annoying neighbor, wanting to take a walk in silence. And after walking around enough and finding the words for a serious conversation, she returned back. Our building seemed to me like rows of identical balconies and colored curtains. Suddenly a man came out to one of them, he was fussing, holding something in his hands, and was completely naked. I stopped behind a tree, not wanting to embarrass him with my gaze. What was in his hands turned out to be a towel. The man tried to cover him bottom part body, but the towel clearly did not reach the girth. I caught myself thinking that I was interested in this spectacle, and looked around to see if anyone was watching me. Luckily, there was no one around.

Suddenly the door to the room opened, loud screams and obscene language were heard. Things flew through the wide-open door, floating in the wind and clinging to the bushes. It didn't take long to fly from the height of the second floor, and through the branches I saw men's trousers and cowards hanging sadly on a bird cherry branch.

Only now did the thought dawn on me that I was watching my own balcony. Interest in what was happening doubled.

Sensing danger, the naked man climbed over the partition onto the adjacent balcony, fortunately they were all connected to each other. Yanking the door, he apparently realized that there was no one there, and moved on. Soon a high-pitched female squeal was heard, and I watched with a smile as two women whipped towels at a naked guest. He, in turn, headed to the next balcony, no longer even covering his shame. And then he disappeared, apparently someone let him in after all.

I stood under the tree for a little longer, but since the scream was no longer heard, I decided to get up. Natalya Petrovna hecticly collected her things and stuffed them into her travel bag. I noticed swelling under her left eye, and her cheeks were glistening with tears.

Sorry, I thought you wouldn't be back soon. My husband unexpectedly came for me,” she muttered, hiding her face. And then I watched her from the balcony, running in unstable heels and hung with bags.

A few days later, a new neighbor moved in with me, young and pretty. And when she asked how many men were in the sanatorium, I couldn’t help but laugh. And she answered that there are enough of them to make our life not boring.

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