That day I, as always, made the usual walk when I suddenly jerked from a merry cry: "Smile!" - Now stop me shooting! I shouted threateningly to a stranger who was still circling me around with a camera. At last he stopped snapping, tore himself away from the camera and said:
"They take prostitutes out of the district." And I'll take pictures of you. - I could not pass by. You have a stunningly photogenic face. And the figure ... And then, if I warned you, naturalness and immediacy would disappear. And so the pictures will turn out interesting. Compliments pleasantly tickled the soul. Beauty, amazingly photogenic, interesting ... No, I guessed, even believed in it, but for some reason such fireworks of beautiful words in everyday life did not spoil me.
- Maximilian, - the master of artistic fright introduced himself. "You can call me just Max." And what is your name, my frightened beautiful stranger? Nymph? Naiad? Mermaid?
- Oh no! Just Albina. You can call me just Alya, "I answered, and asked:" So, when will you be able to pick up the fruits of your titanic photographic efforts? " Or maybe you just joked, and I will not see any photos and will not understand how photogenic, beautiful, etc., I am.
"Tomorrow and take it," Max replied simply. - Where is comfortable for you? I will come to any place that you specify.
I feverishly thought . In my house? But I see it for the first time in my life! Him? No, really! Any unpredictable situation is possible. In the cafe? Too crowded for those who want to extend their acquaintance. And I suddenly realized that I want to prolong my acquaintance with this strange guy.
"At the same place," I answered cautiously. "It's three o'clock." Is it good?
"I will," Max assured me, and sent a farewell kiss. "You are perfection!" You are my muse ... The next day at exactly three I was running along the park avenue. Frozen rain. The umbrella was not there, so there was no trace of my beauty yesterday. Wet chicken! Max sat on a fallen chestnut tree. When I approached, he jumped up, covered me with his jacket, and I had to cuddle up to him. We stood side by side, and I prayed only that it would not hear the beating of my frightened and thirsty heart:
"Max, I'm sorry I'm late." And this rain ... You were not joking? I really can see the pictures?
"Indeed," he laughed. "Only here is not the best place to view my highly artistic photographs." Maybe, come to me?
I was ready for anything. As it turned out, Max lives two steps from the park, and with a sinking heart, I nodded: so be it, we go to you. We ran, covered with a yellow storm, and Max whispered something sweet, tirelessly:
"You are divinely beautiful, Alya." You are my inspiration, my fresh wind ... I took your photos yesterday and could not tear myself away from them. It was beyond my strength. I'll give you all the photos, even the film, if you insist, but I'll leave one photo for myself. She will stand on my table, and when the world is persistent, it will seem a hideous dump, I will look into your beautiful eyes.
I looked at him timidly , as if trying to determine if this man was not mad, and at the same time tried to keep at least some grace of movements in order to match his idea of me. But, thank God, we finally got to the home of Max. I opened my mouth in surprise. Once there, apparently, was a three- or even a four-room apartment, but the new owner got rid of all the internal partitions between the rooms, leaving only the toilet, bathroom and a large kitchen. All the rest resembled a stadium space, in which a round bed under the transparent canopy, a pair of chairs by the fireplace, a massive oak desk, Separate life lived a huge hide of a polar bear, spread out at the doorstep, and on the walls - photographs.
Before the photo was taken , it did not come right away. At first Max almost forced me into a spacious light bathroom, and then ordered in an unconditional tone:
"Take off your wet clothes, Alyochka, I'll dry them, and while you're in this warm bathrobe!" I do not want my muse to catch a cold! I stood in the bathroom and felt that I was carrying a violent current somewhere. When she got out, she climbed into the armchair, crouching under her legs, and waited for Max to perform the same procedure with changing clothes. He appeared naked, only the hips are tied with beige, like melted milk, with a towel. "Now he comes to me, and I can not do anything ... But I do not want to resist. This guy ... I only know him for a day, but I'm waiting ... I'm waiting for him!
And I want ... I want only him! "- knocked in my head. He came and sat at my feet. Then, as if recollecting, jumped up, spread out on the floor a huge bright red plaid of furry artificial fur, poured a blood-red wine into two transparent pot-bellied glasses and beckoned me with his hand:
"Come here, my beautiful!" Before that, I had one guy ... Only one. A year later we parted ways with him, and I even transferred to another faculty.
And since then I decided: first the Mendelssohn march, and then - the bed. And so ... Max. He said: "Come here", and I resignedly. He fell to my knees before me and began to kiss my feet ...
It was not just an intimacy , but a wonderful, romantic music. But when, relaxed and stunned with happiness, I was lying on a blood-red plaid, in my heart a puzzling question was already turning: what next? To suffer and ask did not have to. Max sat down, his legs tucked under him, stretched out his hand to me and stroked my cheek, as if studying the outline of my face. He looked into my eyes and spoke so sincerely, passionately and tenderly:
"I will never part with you, my muse." You inspire me. You ... Late in the evening I started to get ready to go home. I did not want to step back from him a single step, and Max from me - too:
"I will not live until morning!" Without you ... Tomorrow I'll pick you up at the institute. How much can I steal from you all? Think of something, ask for it. So in my life there was a man for whose sake I was ready for any sacrifices. I ran away from the lecture, skipped seminars ... I could not without him, and he generously showered me with his caresses, presents, unusual surprises. He could order a street musician for me, and we stood by listening to music and kissing. But wherever we meet, and whatever we do, we invariably headed in one direction - to Max's home. First, there lived a blood-red plaid, from which we never moved to a round bed, and secondly - photos. I could watch them for hours. Max really was a great photo artist. His pictures lived and died, they cried and laughed, they pleased, frightened, mixed, forced to freeze in silent respect. A week passed after our acquaintance, when Max first began to insist:
"I have to take pictures of you ... You have an extraordinary face, Albina." You are so graceful and gentle. People should see your beauty, your perfection ...
- Take off? - I laughed, remembering the teachings of Max during our first meeting. "They take prostitutes out of the district, and I can be photographed ... I do not mind." Let's try. I promise you, I will be an obedient student, my master!
So our love encounters began to turn into a photo shoot. I really liked posing. I invented extravagant outfits that delighted Max, looked in the mirror for a long time, wondering what a make-up should be, in order to logically complement the image. Sometimes we went to the picturesque corners of the city, and Max took pictures, took pictures, took pictures ... I reviewed hundreds of my photos, and he waited ... I felt - he needed my enthusiastic words. And I sincerely admired. No, not his beautiful face or figure, but his work. A month later we celebrated a small anniversary of our acquaintance, and my photographer once again proposed something that I flatly refused before:
"Muza, I want to photograph you naked." Your body is feelings ...
By this time I myself, was already ready for such experiments. I needed only a push.
Examining my photos , I often caught myself thinking: "Now if in the same pose, but without clothes ..." I turned away from Max and began to undress slowly. And he ... No, he did not rush to open the camera lens. He undressed and threw me on a blood-red plaid, and when passion was noisy, but still warm, not one degree, I was still drowning. I did not even think that he could stop loving me. So, something happened. I flew to him, as if on wings, but was an unexpected obstacle to work ...
In red fur, he stood over me, naked, and clicked the shutter of the camera. It was very exciting ... I pulled my hands to him, begging to stop, I called him, attracted him, seduced him, but he could not stop ... Since that day such sessions have become an integral part of our meetings. Where has the modesty gone? No, I was not embarrassed. I seduced him, exposing myself in the light of the soffits, saw him tremble, and felt an incomprehensible and inexplicable power over his beloved man. The fairy tale ended in one day. Still today - everything, as always, but tomorrow Max has not come. To admit the thought that he changed his mind, stopped loving or forgot me, it was impossible. And I ran to his lair, whispering: "If only I was alive ...", because I thought only of one thing: some terrible trouble happened to him. But ... he was alive and well. He met, as always, affably and flatteringly, fond compliments and immediately became actively and unceremoniously evacuate: - Alya, I'll call you. I now have an important photo shoot, and you will be distracting. I'll explain everything to you ...
But the next day he did not call . In a day, too. I decided to be proud and just wait. "Crawl! After all, I'm his muse! Without me, Max just can not create and work! And I without it ... I can not live "- I was angry and crying.
After I splashed Max in the face of champagne, he suddenly again saw in me his muse. But it's too late! I do not believe him. Now let him gnaw his elbows, because I will never come back.
I suffered greatly, but when his silence lasted ten days, I spat on my pride and knocked on the door.
- Alya? - He was surprised. "You're not in time, my girl." A lot of work...
I looked past him, inside the magnificent den. The blood-red plaid, as always, was spread out in the middle of Max's room, and the slender and completely naked girl waited unhesitatingly on the owner's return.
"Very beautiful," I said stupidly and cried.
He went out into the corridor , carefully closing the door of the apartment, and began to shake me for his trembling shoulders:
- The artist can not be limited. How can you not understand this ?! What do you want from me? You ceased to inspire me, turned into a burden, and your tears - a further confirmation of this. I need a flight, wings, a dream! Get out of here forever and do not follow me again!
"I want you to give all my photographs," I asked through the tears, the master of artistic seduction.
"Not now," he replied irritably. "I'll collect them and then I'll call you back." Now leave! I am begging you! He did not return the pictures, and out of the terrible depression I left for a long time and hard. At first I thought of swallowing a sleeping pill, but, thank God, my wise mother, feeling something was wrong, did not leave me, not a single step. Then a head knocked: and I'll enlist myself somewhere away from this place, from this park, from this city and this man! I will work honestly, earn a lot of money, come back and I'll visit this freak-photographer. He will die when he sees me in all the glory of beauty and wealth. But this crazy thought quickly disappeared. Once, with my friends, we walked through the city, and at some salon I saw a poster. On it - a photo of Max. The poster invited to visit the exhibition of a photo artist. I pulled the girls on, but when we parted, my legs took me there. I knew that I would see ... And I was not mistaken. A crowd of visitors wandered through the salon, but one photo had a lot of people. I sat up on tiptoe, trying to look at the picture through my head ... I was in the photo ...
After our closeness . Pulled his hands somewhere in front of him and called ... From behind, there was a painfully familiar laugh. Max was surrounded by a disreputable audience, and next to them - a waiter with a tray of champagne.
- And all at you it is beautiful! - I said maliciously, coming up to the bewildered Max. I took a glass of champagne in each hand and splashed it into a pretty face.
- Take off! I can repeat the encore! - I shouted to the photojournalists, who were bored here in anticipation of the sensation, but the quick guys managed to fix everything from the first time. Work at them such. I again took a glass of champagne, drank it in a gulp and waved to Max with his hand, heading for the exit. Well, my dear friend, in fury, you have never really seen me before! Excites? Tolerate! From now on, I'm not for you! He rang the next day and as if switched on a dictaphone record. Words, as before, about my perfection:
- You're my inspiration! What a fool I am! Come back to me. I realized that only you can be my muse. Without you I can not create my masterpieces. Have pity on me, Alya! You are divine.
"Of course, it's divine." I have no one to regret! I'm not available to you, clown!