The Money Rain

End of the 70s. I, a very young virgin, was going to go wildly to Crimea. She got her first vacation in her life at her first job, her parents also added money, but everything was somehow not very large bills. Even in those good Soviet times, people were afraid of their money. Where did I hide them? Of course, where they were hidden by all women at all times, in the underwear...

In addition to me, there were three other men in my coupe, well very suspicious... They immediately got a drink and sat down to play cards for a small amount of money. I stood on the upper shelf and guarded them from above. Until I fell asleep tired.

I woke up from the wild. Apparently I was sleeping restlessly, swirling, and my money, carefully wrapped in a towel, turned out and broke out of my still small underwear to freedom.

Men sit down, drink Port Wine Agdam, play cards, complain that the salaries are small, and suddenly my holidays start to fall quietly on their heads. This kind of money rains mainly from five-ruble notes. And as a bonus, I hang from the top shelf, all so beautiful, young, roasted and choking myself for the chest.

They ran like horses... They gathered all my savings and gave them back to me. Normal men have arrived. Thro the way, we drank tea together, featured foods on the road and joke anecdotes. The train approached Simferopol. And likewise, the times of the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the fall of the Soviet Union were unremittingly approaching. This is life...