The case of Mykonos.
I recently went to the bathroom where I am constantly serviced. The owners of the service are respectable people from Armenia, and the washers are young men from the Armenian depths. In the only box washed a small Opel. His hostess, a young girl with a girlfriend, waited watching the process at the open door. The day was sunny and warm, the girls were dressed easily, in thin silk dresses. From the dark depths of the box, the picture was fairy, just a finding for the photographer. Two slim, almost naked bodies in the control light. The sunlight enlightened the transparent fabric, and the wind touched the bottom of the short dresses. The washers obviously did not rush to stretch the process of contemplation as much as possible. The girls were thinking about their girlfriend. They had a puzzle – they either did not suspect how they looked from the outside, or the process of deception was pleasing to them. The idyllia was destroyed by the entering master of the wash, with a loud voice, in Armenian began to speak to the washers for the formation of the line. Then he moved on to a gentle tone addressing the girls: – Listen, girl! Go, sit on the bench at the corner. They will never wash your car.