298
In the subway at rush hour "mixed in a bunch of horses, people..."
Sixty nine million seven hundred eleven thousand seven hundred seventy two
Summer, heat, rush hour, subway real crush. Going to work in the short skirt. Feel like someone starts to RUB my soft place. If it is not touched by hand, and like a soft brush. Behind hear the strict voice of the old man:
— Vasily!
Again a light touch.
— Stop it! — said the same indignant voice.
Tried to turn, but nothing happened. At the next stop left most of the passengers and I was finally able to see who's playing. I look up and sitting next to me intelligent a grandfather, on my knees holding a small briefcase, and it looks huge ginger cat.
— Basil, shame, reproachfully says grandpa. — I somehow keep myself in hand!
via factroom.ru
Summer, heat, rush hour, subway real crush. Going to work in the short skirt. Feel like someone starts to RUB my soft place. If it is not touched by hand, and like a soft brush. Behind hear the strict voice of the old man:
— Vasily!
Again a light touch.
— Stop it! — said the same indignant voice.
Tried to turn, but nothing happened. At the next stop left most of the passengers and I was finally able to see who's playing. I look up and sitting next to me intelligent a grandfather, on my knees holding a small briefcase, and it looks huge ginger cat.
— Basil, shame, reproachfully says grandpa. — I somehow keep myself in hand!
via factroom.ru
