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And as for you, dear reader, and you will never begin to suspect that the elegant young lady going to you towards is a heroine of the confession which is once read by you... So, on an order. I am young, beautiful. What else? Ho besides, I is also clever. By my twenty eight years I became one of the leading journalists of our thick magazine. The fact that I wrote about problems of economy and social policy didn't contradict at all that I always remained the graceful lady, one may say, the fatal woman of our circle. I got divorced from husband three years ago and since that time managed to turn the head not to one reporter and even to the journal manager. Ho itself thus, though felt due physical pleasure in time of intimate proximity, always in soul remained is cold and indifferent. Time from time I needed the man, it is desirable young and beautiful. Well so? I always found that it was necessary for me. Then I used this found and without any regrets left. Of course, I gave caress to the man in a bed, but never lost thus the heads, did what was required for my pleasure, and all. Well, maybe, still most a little as gratitude to a beautiful male for his efforts. And after that I absolutely quietly got up and left nevermore to see this next silly and self-satisfied face. And has to notice to you that all this charming handsome in a bed is good only there. When they suddenly accidentally open a mouth, it that any hope for an orgasm vanishes takes off from there... Therefore I always tried to pretend to be in such cases silent that also the partner spoke in time of a dinner, obligatory on the standard program, together at cozy small restaurant less. I tried to finish somewhat quicker an obligatory part and to go to him or to me rather to make what I physically need two-tri times a month. The most important, I awfully was afraid to be fond of somebody accidentally. I didn't want this at all. The truth, this danger was rather speculative, than real. Very silly partners always came across to me. The rich - yes, beautiful - yes, dexterous in a bed - oh, yes... Ho that interesting? Oh, isn't present! So all this also proceeded if in one wonderful morning on Monday the editor didn't call me to himself in an office. Did you notice that all unpleasant things usually begin on Monday? I noticed it too long ago. In any case, quite so I thought when I heard that on the instructions of the magazine I should go to one godforsaken African country that in a month to bring from there a cycle of sketches about social problems... What horror, I thought. To trudge silly there, it is even sillier to write about problems of the social help in Africa. It is even sillier to publish it in the respectable European magazine.Ho what to do? Especially as the editor it is very transparent I hinted me that such business trip - the sign of trust to me from the party of edition that the refusal will cause misunderstanding, and consent - opposite, will cause something good and tangible. Like the order for article about Bogamakh with the three-months paid trip there... The journalist shouldn't choose especially at all. And the prospect to get favor of rich edition is a thing serious. So, I asked when I have to take off... He I will begin to tire you with descriptions of the way and the hole where eventually I got. Especially as it has no such direct relation to a being of my history.After a week of stay in the capital of the country, after stuffy nights in the only decent hotel, after жаpы and unusual food I had to go for a bigger test. I had to go to the small city in the south of the country and spend there several days. Colleagues wanted to show me something there. To go so to go well... I heaved a deep sigh and collected the small suitcase. The town of Mumbo-Yumbo sank in a haze of a tropical heat. Swarms of flies, dirt on streets and shouts of the African market - all this confused me in the first day. Colleagues left me in number of hotel already late in the evening and left. I remained one. I had a vague suspicion that my local colleagues and well-wishers just used a pretext to sweep in this the small town where they have some personal records. They, apparently, thought up everything that there is something for me interesting. And now, thanks to this simple African invention, I am forced several days to the next flight to the capital to carry out here. What melancholy...Ha the first floor of hotel the restaurant was located, and national music reached from there. Something average between a tomtom and shout of the suffocated kid... And here to me I came to the head quite normal in Europe, and so wild in Africa, the thought to go down and sit at restaurant... Till this time I can't understand why I made it. Probably, all the matter is that I divorced three years ago, and all divorced women it is a little "with hello". Just "hello" at all different. Here mine was suddenly shown in such strange way. I took seat for a table on a terrace and almost at once regretted that I came here. No, the danger wasn't almost any. What boredom to look Ho at two tens swarthy which miss moreover and get drunk... Ha me they turned not enough attention though I also was the only white woman here. After all times change, even here, and they already saw white women not time. And perfectly know that miracles on light don't happen and no normal white woman with them will go. Leave the dreams... Therefore as to look if the result is in advance known. No, I don't want to tell that I didn't see in the capital of the country of white prostitutes. Videla, of course. And black use them. Ho of these pathetic shabby creations is visible through at once and about them everything is clear. And decent dates, of course, not for local men, and it is clear to all. Especially, not far from a terrace where I sat, the huge peak-cap of the local police officer .Ho was seen here I saw something unusual for local surroundings. The tall white man approached my table. His white suit was complemented with an element of an evening toilet, on him there was a firm white hat. All his look gave the local. There was also a sure manner to keep, and the fact that constantly he was called by the Africans sitting at tables. To the man was years thirty five, and he was devilishly good himself. Nesmotrya on the European suit and Nordic appearance, in him there was something primitive, animal. It bylozametno from the first look. The man smiled and kept with the advantage and ease, but in eyes played sparks of passion, his lips shook, and wings of a nose were inflated, giving sensuality of nature. Whether "It is possible to sit down to your table?" he asked, slightly bending forward. Then, seeing my confusion, I told: "My name is Rolf. I am an owner of this restaurant". I nodded and agreed. Rolf took seat naprotivmenya. "You here for the first time? ""Yes", - I nodded. "What is your name? ""Ingrid. I here on business". - I told Rolf as I appeared here. He made an impression of quite well-mannered person. If in him there was also something animal, then he was able to hide it. We talked about local life a little. Rolf told that he arrived here many years ago and now already strongly settled. Especially as the restaurant yields quite good revenue. Here only, he complained, he here only white and sometimes to him is .skuchno. I also couldn't present to myself as it is possible to live in such hole as this Mumbo-Yumbo alone. Yours faithfully I looked at Rolf. And he, meanwhile, suggested me to drink for acquaintance. Brought a champagne bottle. After champagne Rolf suggested me to walk a little, and I agreed. With such solid guide it isn't terrible to go even according to Mumbo-Yumbo.