He is real. A novel. Alisa Roft

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      Having finished all the ritual associated with applying my makeup (and I tried my best), and looking at my mirror reflection, I was unhappy with the result.The traces of fatigue accumulated after a large number of sleepless nights, reflecting in the swollen eyes, and bruises under them, could not be hidden even by expensive cosmetics.

      I recalled all the men who I came to amuse for their own money. They had not only a lot of money, but also a lot of girls. Each of them told me almost the same thing, literally: “You yourself do not understand how beautiful you are.” These words that came up in my memory were able to help and inspired confidence in my attractiveness. Once again I ran the comb through my long, blond hair and threw it on the shelf in the hallway, and then I left the apartment.

      But going down the stairs, “Anna the uncertain” began to feel doubts again. This time, doubts about the attire chosen and about the shoes selected to match it. Perhaps it was not worth wearing high heels sandals and a short red dress. Perhaps, I looked vulgar, because this dress almost did not cover the body, although, on the other hand, Misha might like it, and he will experience the feeling of admiration. He will pay attention to my long legs, thin waist, under the tight-fitting fabric of the dress, and my outfit will suit his taste.

      So, I thought, having stopped and holding the door handle of the glass front door, it seems that I really like this Misha if I go through all these options in my thoughts. Having gathered my courage, I opened the door, lifted my head proudly and walking with a firm tread, shaking my hips to the beat of my heels headed to the meeting with the guy from the beach.

      He was already waiting for me, being mine, at least for today, a tall, attractive, healthy athlete, wearing dark worn jeans and a T-shirt, emphasizing his tight torso. He was standing on the sidewalk by the road, watching what was happening around him with a restrained and impenetrable gaze. Anyone in my place would believe that his professional activity has something to do with the protection and maintenance of order.

      The feeling of embarrassment and desire to search for my shortcomings, fell on “Anna the uncertain” with renewed vigor, transforming into a sense of childish shyness. All that was left to do for her cheeks was to flash red with embarrassment, here you are, the standard situation of the girl on the first date.

      Having stopped next to Misha, I smiled sweetly. So sweetly, that it seems to me I overdid it.

      – Hi, – he leaned and he briefly kissed my cheek, near the corner of my lips, and, kept standing very close, looking down at me.

      – Hello, – I said, unable to move, once again, as if I had swallowed my tongue.

      I couldn’t fail to notice the weirdness of his look. It swept across my face, lingering on its outlines for a split second, and then stopped. Misha began to peer into my eyes, and a smile flashed across his lips, almost imperceptibly, with a bit of regret. Honestly, I felt somehow uncomfortable. He seemed to have seen a familiar person in me, a person he had known for a long time, and could not believe that we met again, apologizing deep inside for the innumerable amount of time that separated us with an abyss of long years.

      How could I understand this? I have no idea, it might have seemed to me. I have not heard the words of my “invisible friend”, confirming the accuracy of my assumptions.

      – Well, shall we take a walk to the bar? – He spoke in his low voice, full of calmness.

      – Let’s take a walk, – I agreed, once again, beaming with a smile.

      ***

      We took seats at a wide wooden bar counter, in one of the cafes on the sandy beach of Bat Yam. A refreshing sea breeze searched around the open log-in porch lit by colorful lights. Foot tapping club music was making its way through the hubbub of the visitors.

      Misha moved so close to me that our chairs stood close to each other, thus increasing the distance between him and a young, dark-haired Israeli woman sitting next to him. While waiting for the bartender, she seemed to touch Misha accidentally several times with her elbow and knee, trying to attract his attention.

      Yes, the majority of Israeli women never lacked the impudence and audacity. And just try to object at least one of them, she will instantly bring down a squall of nervous cries, even if she is not right, even if her arguments are stupid and not substantiated, she will still thoroughly throw mud at you. I usually resolved similar difficulties quickly and easily. While working in a striptease, I often encountered the attacks from snooty Israeli strippers. As for beauty, they, of course, were inferior to girls of Slavic appearance, so, the richest visitors of the club were more interested in us (the Russians and Ukrainians). They shared their generosity – we were treated to drinks, they gave their tips just to extend the minutes of our communication. All the Israeli women could do – was to show their hot temper, to us, in order to intimidate us. Over the years of work in the club, they learned how to move competitors aside. On each regular customer they hung, an imaginary label – “private property”, and the Russian girls tried not to linger with such clients for a long time

      Their system worked well, but (How to destroy the system? – To break it!) a few clashes with battering were enough to ensure that these impudent girls did not bug me anymore. The strippers were mainly fighting for the pieces of paper with indelible paint, and I was steadfast to my principles, but it turned out that I still protected these pieces of paper.

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