The Sweets At Dawn хххх 2

 She neither ate nor drank anything, as her arms remained crossed over her chest, beneath a face expressing extreme displeasure, even though there were still plenty eatables on the table.
I steeled my resolve, walked around the table and stood next to her, saying, ‘May I?’
Without even deigning to glance at me, she pursed her lips even more displeasedly, rose, and lithely made for the darkness in the dance floor bedroom…

The partners weren’t changed there, and when the recording ended, the couples didn’t separate. After waiting for the record to rustle between numbers, their hands returned to the secured foothold on the person they were dancing with, the chests locked back into the upper body opposite…
The gentle sway of Tanya’s slender waist between my palms, placed on her hips, intoxicated me more than the wine. A pulsating hum filled my ears, every muscle tense with readiness to respond, lest I miss, to the slightest movement of her hands on my shoulders.
Of course, she was leading the way, since I only knew the chair waltz at the Object and from a couple of Ballroom Waltz lessons, where Gurevich more flashed his motormouth skills than played his accordion. While the ‘Singing Guitars’ of waltzes, as a matter of principle, never played a thing…

And I wasn’t angry at the drunken idiot playing with the light switch, but, forced to pull away from Tanya. At such moments I peered under the bright lamplight at her profile with her clear, pale skin, and adoringly gazed at the eye stubbornly directed toward the floor.
I admired the wavy lock before her ear. The hair was pulled back into a cute little ponytail, just below the nape of her neck. Her breasts were more like circles than hemispheres, but even as much threw me into an ecstatic trance of the Corybantes.

(… I admit I didn’t know such complicated terms back then… but that’s exactly how I felt! To which my father would have been quick to criticize: ‘You’re picking up all sorts of hooey like a dog picks up fleas! You’re just scurrying from top to top without looking deeper into matters… Tip-leaper, screw you! ‘…)

Yes, I was at the height of bliss, I was irrevocably and eternally in love…

On getting a hefty kick in the seat of his pants in the end of the first book, the lyrical hero of the story rocketed up out of the tender Continent Childhood. An invisibly parabolic trajectory lands him in the thick of provincial Soviet life in northern Ukraine. Adolescence began—the process of becoming a 'cut-off slice' followed by 'hardening', the loss of friendships, the collapse of dreams, and their replacement with brand new ones. Just like by everyone else. Then, of its own accord, came the 'time of folly youth'. Changes in the heroic anatomy entail the growth of new instincts, and the protagonist charts an independent course into the open sea of his personality's sexual maturation.

The 2nd book in Rascally Romance series warns of certain pitfalls in blissful period of life ruled by the smaller yet mightier of your 2 heads or, to make it clear for amatomically innocent guys as well, when instincts keep brains prisoner. Donations to the redemption fund are welcome!


https://www.litres.ru/73816439/                -- 299 руб.

https://books2read.com/u/mYNDAW                -- $2.99

  Contents  words: 102,993; p.: 320
~ ~ ~ a cool youngster
~ ~ ~ reality of illusions
~ ~ ~ the centaur’s way
~ ~ ~ the servant of Melpomene
~ ~ ~ visiting higher worlds
~ ~ ~ the sinewave of life
~ ~ ~ a fresh start
~ ~ ~ summing it up
~ ~ ~ no-blood-shed revolution
~ ~ ~ workdays
~ ~ ~ desired ends
~ ~ ~ a locksmith’s wedlock