fak

It was good in the air, from the very morning the long-awaited winter sun spawned. I was driving in a warm road, listening to music in my headphones, waiting for spring and admired the wet snow forest outside the window. One hour to Moscow, you can have time to sleep. Even the girls — loud whistles, those who sat in front of me, could not hinder, because I have good headphones.

We stopped and got bored on the train. In the neighboring row to the right was a black Porsche Cayenne. Cayenne’s driver, a young, white-haired guy, looked at the advertising inscriptions on the dirty side of our bus, until he met the little girls with his eyes. The guy smiled and very gracefully, with barely noticeable movements of his hands and with a slight tilt of his head, made a reverence, like the king’s most true musketeer. I bet that this guy at the time, studied the stage movement very deeply.

The girls stunned, seemingly, commented somehow and, without speaking, showed a "fake" in response.
The Musketeer made a very sad face, even his lower lip was touchingly shaken. Directly from the air, he snatched an invisible flower, most likely a rose, and the finger was ridiculously “crawled” and threw the flower to the beauty.
The beauties again struck and in turn, already with two hands showed "fake"

The cavalier in Cayen smiled, and in response sent an air kiss. The kiss flew ridiculously throughout the car, until the musketeer opened the fork to let him go. The ladies again stumbled and again showed the “fact”.
The Musketeer laughed amusedly and, suddenly, depicted with his fingers a fast-going man - this meant that he was inviting the girls to his car.

The girls again defiled, but the "fake" did not show, but the gestures asked again, saying - do you really call us or joke?

The guy confirmed, attaching his hands to his huge, beating heart and then the girls decidedly jumped out of their seats and shouted to the driver to open the door, they urgently need to get out here.

The door opened, the girls struck out, at the same time, the motor exploded in the road, because the shlagbaum had already risen in front.

The ladies approached Kajen and knocked at the doors, but the door for some reason did not open, the guy made a sad face, wiped out the invisible tears and in his own manner, showed a very graceful "fak", then gazanul and with a bucket hole disappeared somewhere behind the move.

We also left and only two abandoned girls remained on the road, in the middle of this wet, snowy forest.

What unreliable, these musketeers...