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Chapter 1 . Introduction

Ilona was already drunk enough. A couple more shots, and she will definitely go into the gap. It will end with a rendezvous with a toilet in a cramped booth of a cheap bar, which she looked into after her dismissal at four in the afternoon. Therefore, the girl politely asked for a bill and paid for a random drinking party with a plastic card. The bartender punched the check with a sad smile:
“We had live music scheduled here in an hour.
Ilona looked doubtfully at the tiny shabby stage in the corner of the half-empty bar and grunted:
"I don't think I should expect an orchestra, do I?"
"My friend's guitar would dispel your skepticism," the man and chin muttered offendedly. “His fingers work wonders.
- What about your fingers? - Ilona hid the card in the pocket of her shabby backpack and stared at the bartender without blinking. Do they work miracles?
The man looked into her face with incomprehension, became embarrassed and rushed to rub the glass with a clean rag.
"I'm sorry," the girl smiled wryly. - I'm nothing like that ... Ah ... Forget it ...
She ruffled her short hair and jumped awkwardly from her high chair. Still, Ilona did not calculate and drank too much.
- Where is the restroom? She hiccupped and put her fingers to her mouth, suddenly embarrassed by the bartender's gaze.
Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. Some may take the careless phrase about the fingers and the question of the restroom as a suggestion to retire behind a flimsy door. The bartender slowly waved his hand to the right, eyeing her appraisingly from head to toe. The pervert with the trendy shaved-side hair was probably deciding whether or not to have some fun with a drunk client.
Whether alcohol jumped in the blood, or resentment at the boss, who did not appreciate her and dared to fire her after two years of work without days off and holidays, but the girl thought that a hookup in a dirty toilet with an unremarkable young man would console her at least a little. The bartender, while not handsome, was an acceptable option for a casual connection - nothing memorable, except for his perfectly styled hair on the top of his head.
Ilona walked into the restroom. The bar, with faux-brick walls and shabby dark wood furniture, was nearly empty, with only a few tables occupied. And this is not surprising. Normal people work, not thump in broad daylight.
The girl lingered at the photographs, which depicted people she did not know, and was happy for them - men and women with sincere and drunken happiness smiled and fooled around. They made funny faces, put their horns on each other and hugged each other. Ilona winked intoxicated at the pictures and disappeared into the restroom.
The bartender with a neat haircut did not come. Ilona stubbornly waited for the scoundrel for five whole minutes, looking at the white toilet bowl with dubious smudges, and fell out of the cubicle like an angry, rejected tigress. She washed her face angrily and stared sharply at the reflection of the mirror.
She wasn't ugly enough for a pathetic little man in a filthy bar to disdain her. Here she would definitely fuck herself - a strict and strong-willed face with plump, well-defined lips, wide cheekbones, a high forehead and expressive green eyes framed by thick eyelashes.
Ilona angrily clenched her firm breasts in her hands and turned in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what could scare away the vile asshole behind the counter. She was damn good - front and back! She turned her back to the mirror, stood on her tiptoes and glanced over her shoulder to appreciate her round ass in tight pants. It's probably because of the short pink hair - she was mistaken for a lesbian again, but then why all this talk about fingers that work wonders?
- I love men! Ilona barked at the reflection and poked at the mirror. - I, a bitch, love cocks!
The door of one of the booths clicked, and an embarrassed girl in a woolen dress with a white collar emerged from it. He threw a frightened look at Ilona and went to the sink.
"If you're wondering," she lathered her hands and tossed her hair, "Joni is gay."
— Joni? Ilona squeaked, blushing to the tips of her ears.
“The bartender,” the girl put her hands under the stream of water, “about which you have been indignant here for ten minutes already.
— Aloud? Ilona swallowed.
“And quite loudly,” the stranger laughed merrily and snatched several napkins from a metal box on the wall. She slyly narrowed her eyes and bared her white, even teeth in a smile. “He loves cocks too.
- Damn it! - Ilona picked up her backpack from the floor and jumped out of the restroom, burning with shame. - Damn it!
- Have a good day! the barman said boredly at her back, rubbing another glass.
“What an idiot I am,” the girl hissed under her breath and ran out into the street, which met her with friendly sun and coolness.
She ran down the pavement. Now it was not anger and resentment at the fat boss that occupied her, but burning shame. Why did she so clumsily try to seduce a gay bartender and put on an ugly concert of drunken outrages in the restroom? Ilona can't drink, because she turns into some kind of disgusting and nasty bitch, squealing about members in the toilet. What a disgrace!
She turned into an alley. Beneath the rusty fire escape, next to the garbage cans, sat a huge, dirty dog. Ilona squealed when the beast whined, and pressed herself against the wall, looking with fear into the ice-blue eyes of the animal, whose white fur fell into ugly tangles with lumps of earth and blades of grass stuck to it. The dog, if a calf-sized monster could be called that, tucked its right front paw in and turned its muzzle away, licking its pink nose.
Ilona looked around, looking for the owner of the dog in the narrow alley, but found no one. The dog whined again as it put its paw on the paving stones, and the girl noticed blood on the fur.
- Where is your master? the girl whispered, swallowing a lump of fear. - You are lost?
The dog looked up at her with sad eyes and licked his nose again, as if agreeing with her words. Ilona, ​​indecisively, shifted from foot to foot and walked away, but after a second she bravely turned around and cautiously approached the whining beast.
“If you bite me,” Ilona squinted at the dog and squatted down in front of him, “I will bite you back.” You understood me? I am a serious lady and will not tolerate your teeth.
He sneezed in agreement. The girl with fear stretched her hand to the wounded paw of the beast, and he growled in displeasure.
“Ururu-ruru-rurur,” Ilona mimicked the dog and grabbed it by the paw.
She twisted her sides, examined the shaggy limb and noticed a bloody, dirty fragment on the dog's callused heel.
“I warned you,” Ilona looked sternly into the eyes of the growling dog. “I will definitely bite you.” Don't growl at me, furry. I do want to help.
Ilona, ​​with reckless courage, picked up the fragment with her nails and abruptly pulled it out of the pillow. With a growl that ended in a whine, the dog clicked its mouth in front of the frozen girl's face and jumped away from her, tucking his fluffy tail.
“What a horror,” she looked at the bloodied muddy shard in her palm and turned her gaze to the dog. - It must have hurt?
The dog, despite its size, looked miserable, abandoned and frightened. He tried to lick his bleeding paw and whined hysterically again. Ilona, ​​of course, felt sorry for the beast, but did not want to bother with him at all. She's drunk, tired, and she herself wanted to meet someone who would take care of her.
“We need to wash you, feed you and bandage the wound,” she rose heavily. - Let's go, furry.
She beckoned the dog, and he timidly hobbled after her, limping heavily on his wounded paw. Ilona could not leave the dog to its fate. Too cruel. The animal will definitely fall into the trap, and it seems to be just a lost one - there was no aggression of a stray embittered dog in it.
Ilona slowed her pace so that the dog caught up with her, because passers-by threw suspicious looks at him. She touched her fingers to the woolly withers, which reached her tibia, and gently squeezed her ear when another fat man in the courtyard of an apartment building glanced at them.
"Where's the muzzle, you stupid bitch?" he snapped.
He is peaceful and doesn't bite! - Ilona said offended.
The dog growled, and the girl nudged him lightly into the soft barrel. He obediently fell silent, grumbling in displeasure. They entered under the archway, turned the corner, and hurried across a cozy courtyard with a playground. The children in the sandbox stretched out their heads and wanted to rush to cuddle the white monster, but Ilona hurriedly opened the entrance door and looked sternly at the dog, which looked lovingly at the kids and lazily wagged its tail.
- Let's go!
The dog looked sadly at the girl and limped through a small foyer lined with artificial marble to the elevator. Ilona looked into the empty mailbox, rattled her keys and trotted off to the beast, which stopped and looked back at her patiently.
“It’s like home,” she called the elevator and looked into the dog’s face with a smile. - And where did you come from?
She shook her head. The beast purred with displeasure and entered the elevator without fear. A few seconds, and they were on the third floor, where they were met by an elderly and wizened landlady.
“And I’ll come to you, Il,” the old woman backed away from the dog, which hobbled along the corridor. - Oh my God! How huge!
"He doesn't bite," the girl smiled faintly. “I found him on the corner of 5th. Probably got lost.
- You know that I am against animals in the apartment? the old woman chimed.