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Contracted For Pleasure

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How could I have known how my desire for a little fun would turn out? Did I think about that when I made a deal with a charming stranger? No and no! You should have. As they say, "not all yogurts are equally useful".The hero is an incorrigible egoist, accustomed to take everything from life, the heroine ... Well, what is, with its advantages and disadvantages, with the weight of the past behind his shoulders and with ineradicable optimism in the anamnesis. What does fantasy have to do with it? Here and Aria, going to a seaside resort, also thought that nothing to do with it!

Chapter 1

- Well, hello, South!

I know it's corny, but nothing else just popped into my head.

Probably half of vacationers start their vacation with this hackneyed phrase. No, maybe there are those who say more pathos words, but I seem to belong to the staunch majority of our compatriots who have longed for the warmth of the south, who are not wising up and are content with banal clichés. However, to be quite frank, I am a simple, average resident of our vast country, so it is hard to expect originality from me.

These and similar "vacation" thoughts accompanied me on the way from the airport to the hotel, then snuck up after me in the elevator and quietly slipped into a large double room - yes, I broke for "absolutely unacceptable luxury", as my friend Lka said. Ha! If she knew what I'd rented it for!

Dropping my suitcase by the closet, I went straight to the French window and swung it open. The fresh sea breeze instantly blew into the room, picking up the light curtains and throwing them desperately in my face. I tore the revitalized fabric away from me, stepped out onto the balcony, and looked around contentedly. Freedom. No! Two whole weeks of freedom!

I leaned over the railing and put my face into the warm, gentle wind. M-mmm... I can't even believe it! From the dank September to the velvety warmth of the southern city... A fairy tale! The sea-scented air, the mountains visible in the distance, snow-white clouds clinging to their tops....

Okay, stop relaxing. That's not why I'm here. Well, I am, but in a different way. I glanced at the neighboring hotels and smiled carnivorously. What fun! I think my plan is going to work!

I gutted the long-suffering suitcase - I'd inherited it from my sister, and she'd traveled the world with it - spread it out on the shelves of the roomy closet, and threw a pair of short shorts and an open top on the bed. A very revealing top. You could say it was revealing and provocative. Although, if you think about it... It's hard to shock someone with such things at a resort, there's a beach full of all kinds of nudity, for every taste. Well, that's not the point. The point is, I look hot in a bright red tank top. That's according to my friend Hannah!

I pulled on my clothes, twirled in front of the mirror, and nodded satisfied. Perfect. My breasts peeked out appetizingly from the low neckline, my *ss was tightly covered in denim, my eyes were burning, and my newly bleached hair fell in light waves over my shoulders. She's beautiful!

Satisfied with the inspection, I threw an old Nokia and money into my bag, left the room and went to conquer the "resort prairie".


- Young lady, did you lose your cell phone?

A voice with a distinct Caucasian accent sounded above my ear.

I jerked, turned, and met the hot gaze of the short brunet. So, what do we got? Local, cocky, unshaven. No, not our client. We, Aria, do not need such.

Losing interest in the southern macho, I shook my head carelessly and stared at the menu again. What should I choose? Bean Soup or Tomato Soup?

The open cafe I had wandered into a few minutes ago offered both, and I was agonizing over which I wanted more - icy Tomato Soup, with fragrant tomato, fresh pepper and bright specks of radish, or rich bean soup with appetizing circles of smoked meat and a thin slice of lemon floating in the middle.

- Girl, why is such a beautiful girl alone? - a persistent Caucasian added to the set of clichés.

- Look, give it up, will you? - I looked at the overgrown brunet and made the most beastly expression I could muster. - I'm waiting for my husband.

- Husband? Why does he let his wife go alone? Isn't he afraid of being stolen?

He's a persistent fellow, though. Time to blow him off.

- Where's the phone? - I turned to the man and stared at him point-blank.

- What? - The macho man was confused.

- I said, where's the phone? You know, the one I lost.

- Uh, the phone.

The local heartthrob suddenly stammered.

- So, are you going to give it to me, or should I call for help? - I didn't back down, raising my voice.

People started looking back at us.

- What's your problem? You're sick! - The brutalized brute grumbled in fErentration and hurried away. Without looking back, he rounded the billboard and disappeared around the corner.

All right! One-nil in our favor! Now we can have some pickled vegetables and beef soup! Ha! I can't believe how quickly I made up my mind. Thanks to the local Brad Pitt.

The waitress took the order, laid out the utensils, and a couple of minutes later brought my food - all coldly, unfriendly, and without a smile. Her tired face read only one thing: "I'm so sick of all of you!"

Here it is, unobtrusive Bulgarian service. An amazing thing! In Turkey or Egypt, the staff of any hotel, bar, restaurant, or even a street eatery will never allow themselves such a thing, but here... Perhaps this is the main distinguishing feature of the Black Sea coast. No matter how many stars a hotel has and no matter how respectable a restaurant you enter, you will be treated with the same cool service. With very few exceptions. But that doesn't matter. That's not why we're here.

I fixed my napkin, scooped up the thick broth, and mentally cursed. How many times do I have to do this? Every time I worry, I mentally switch to "we." This is such a "royal" thing - "We, by God's grace, Emperor..." And so on.

I grinned, glanced around the crowded café, and began to devour the deliciously tasty hodgepodge. There they were, the circles of smoked sausages, the cubes of beef, the black eyes of olives... My deliciousness!

Yeah, the flight was taking its toll. Two hours at the airport, three hours in the sky, the road to the hotel... I was hungry like a wolf. It's a stupid peculiarity - while I'm on an airplane, I can't eat a bite, but once I'm on the ground, I immediately get a vicious appetite!

When I had satisfied my hunger, I looked around complacently and thought. Where to go first? The beach? It was still too hot. Walk along the promenade? Why? That's not a bad option, maybe I'll find just what I need.


Heat. Heat, heat, heat, heat.

It was strange for me, accustomed to the dampness of September, to feel the scorching rays of the southern sun. When was the last time I had been to the sea? About four years ago? Or was it five? Exactly, five. Ella and I were on a trip to say goodbye to her girlhood. Yes, now Ella doesn't have time to travel - two kids, porridge, diapers, day care. She's happy. Except for Anthony. My sister's hubby is not a gift! I hummed, remembering the face of the eternally dissatisfied son-in-law. Dibs on me, dibs. I'd rather be alone than with such a bore. Though they had beautiful kinders with Ella.

Okay, all right. No distractions. Chest out, belly in, and onward to new horizons. It's hot. I wish there was a cloud. I'm gonna burn in this scorching sun!

After half an hour of aimless promenade, I realized that I had chosen the wrong location. There are no crowds of alpha males walking along the embankment! Only pensioners - singly and in pairs - and young people on bicycles and rollerblades. Not that contingent, not that one.

I sighed fErentratedly and turned back. Well, I guess it wasn't meant to be.


The journey to the hotel seemed long. I walked through the sliding doors, tired and disheveled, with no trace of my styling. No, this is not the way to do it! Not only a normal brutal, I can't even pick up a weak nerd! I gotta change my hunting ground.

I looked at the new arrivals crowding at the reception desk, but turned away indifferently and headed for the elevator. I wondered if there were any single young men in this hotel, or were there only couples with children and pensioners?

The hope for a favorable outcome of my venture was becoming increasingly shaky.

Already in the room, I tried to think properly about what to do next.

Okay, here's the plan. Here's the plan. First I will have some rest, then I will go to the beach, and in the evening I will go to a restaurant. It can't be that in the coolest Black Sea resort there is no man who wants to spend a pleasant time in the company of a pretty and free girl! Hmmm. Girls... No, well my almost thirty doesn't make me a woman yet, does it? So, definitely girls. Especially since I'm never over 25. And I don't feel like a grown-up lady. I don't.

All right. Now, rest, and the rest later!

Chapter 2


The rest of the day flew by.

The sea, as it should be, was salty and smelled of watermelon rinds, the foamy surf was noisily running onto the pebbly shore, and the wind cheerfully fluttered the white umbrellas decorating the beach. Having swam enough and surveyed the surroundings, I realized that even here I am pursued by failure. There were no single men of the category I needed in free access.

It's okay. I still have tonight and two whole weeks to go. It'll all work out!

It was with these thoughts in mind that I went to the restaurant that evening.

When I opened the massive glass door of Da Vinci, I found myself in the pleasant, relaxing atmosphere of an inexpensive resort establishment. Light music, a white grand piano in the center of the room, small tables, and a relaxed crowd. Bomond, in short.

I cocked my chin confidently, strode over to a vacant table, and lowered myself into a chair.

- Good evening," the waiter materialized imme


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