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Sketches. Anastasia
A series of stories with fictional characters and events, with a general introductory description of the characters and the environment, with a detailed description of non-standard situations and motivation of the characters in order to present a psychological game. When Sergey was 25, he settled in a large and solid company. His department of six people sat in a separate office. Since there were problems with the office space, the secretary of the head of a large division of this company was sitting in the same office with him. Her name was Anastasia. At that time she was 23. Young, quite a pretty brunette with dark skin. She loved to talk on the phone for a long time and without a word, and she pretty much got out of many of her colleagues. She seemed quite nice to Sergei, so he even tried to flirt with her, sometimes calling for dinner together. But it did not have much success, so he began to lose interest in her. The only thing left was irritation from her sometimes through a chur of loud telephone conversations, while other people needed to focus and do their work. So three years passed, then Sergey successfully changed jobs, moving to a good management position at another company. Two more years of work there and Sergei got good acquaintances and accumulated quite good capital in order to open his own business. So in 30 years, he becomes CEO of his still small company. Things are going very well. In two years, this is a small but strong and stable company. *** He is now 32 years old. He is pleased with himself, he has done a good job, he understands that. Having never had much success with women, Sergey decides that his financial condition will help to fix it. He looks good, attends a fitness room, dresses well. But the work takes a lot of time and energy. He does not want a serious relationship, but rather some kind of relationship at will. Only when he wants. And the idea of ​​how this can be organized quickly comes to his mind, tired of working Friday afternoon. He is sitting in his office in a black cloth chair. He did not like the skin, he was hot in it. Sergey turns in his hand a glass of expensive Scotch whiskey, which he liked to drink in small quantities on Friday evenings. Sometimes he did it with colleagues, and, with absolutely anyone, if by that time she was at her workplace. But now he is alone. Closing his eyes, he mixes a burning, oily liquid in his mouth, trying to fully experience the taste of a thirty-year-old scotch. He swallows and chews his crumbled oak aftertaste with pleasure.
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