Nearly next morning vague doubts about the adequacy of my deed started to overcome me. When this Asian was situated in the radius of 10 meters from me I, seemingly, stopped thinking. How can someone agree to pose birth in front of some strange artist, who asks to become his muse? And what if he is really some ual maniac or ert? From the other point of view after all I can forget my promise and continue to live the same life. Because does the fingerprint left by me in the corner of finished work even has any meaning?

Kris doesn’t even know my full name, my phone number; where am I from and where do I live. He even didn’t mean to take my contacts, so he came up with this erted way of contacting me – through the order of hot drinks in «Mamacoffee». He told me that when he needs me he will leave an on-line order on the site with the precise indication of the time when courier should bring the coffee. In 15 minutes I should appear. After saying this, the artist turned to the window, letting me know that the negotiation is over and I had to leave the studio.

This deal evoked in me wild curiosity and slightly understandable anxiety. Finally I received money for this and this suited me, taking in consideration latest events of my life in Prague. Every month I tried to send my parents some sum of money, so this peculiar income that didn’t worth me any effort was very handy. So I thought I will see what is going to happen next.

- Oh! – I heard Fang’s surprised exclamation. – Ann, you take a look!

The Chinese used to call me in English manner and I somehow get to come over it. I leaned back in my chair and questioningly looked at my colleague.

- This Chinese? Our client! He just sent us an on-line order. He needs Macchiato just in Midnight. And for the night delivery he is ready to pay twice as much!

My eyes darted nervously and I stared at the screen of my notebook, hiding hands on the knees, that trembled suddenly.

- But again, we don’t have 24hour delivery, - mumbled I.

Fang was inspired.

- Will have! Jan will deliver! If this goes on we will calculate him by triple rate! He obviously is a coffee maniac.

So today, strictly at 00:15 I should come to the artist. I shuddered at this thought. Of course it’s better at midnight than at 2 or 3 o’clock in the night, when it’s hardly possible to meet someone on the Charles Bridge. After the end of my shift I left home to freshen up. Eventually I should eat properly, because I didn’t know how long I would spend in the studio. Just in case, I put in my bag not too big kitchen knife. I would hardly be able to use in case of emergency, but now the fact of its presence gave me strength.

At night Prague transformed into the mystic middle-aged city, stunning with its narrow paved streets, enlightened with dull-yellow lights of elegant forged lanterns.  The natives had been already sleeping in their warm beds; the only ones who could be seen in the city were walking tourists or students, dispersing after the jolly rest in one of the clubs. I jumped off the almost empty train not far away from the historical center of Prague to walk along Vltava to the Old Town Bridge Tower. But after walking no more than 100 meters I wished I chose another way, because the cold blew from the river and I chilled completely. I stepped on the Charles Bridge exactly at Midnight and slowly sauntered to the other bank of the Vltava. From far away I was able to spot few widows – the only ones that were glowing in that time of a day in the blue-colored house. The artist was in a studio.

For a moment I felt a sudden urge to look at his windows from far across and then run to the last train and find myself in the warm safe flat of mine. My urge evaporated instantly as in one of the windows I noticed Asian man’s silhouette.  I swear that now he was looking at the Bridge and seeing me, standing near the railing with my head up. I waited five more minutes for fidelity and wandered to the porch on padded feet.

When I climbed up the dark stairs on the second floor, Kris was standing in the passage:

- Come in, - cut he, letting me into the studio.

I hastily came in and looked back. The man was wearing baggy black baize with the drawing of some monster on it and wide pants with the same coloring. He looked like home and very warm.

- Your courier left two minutes ago. Hope you didn’t stumble upon him? – asked he, leaving deep into the room and making a sip of the hot coffee from the branded mug «Mamacoffee».

- No, - answered I, - but it would be great to think of some other way of calling me.

The Chinese raised his eyebrows questioningly.

- I can’t always look into my colleague’s computer. She works with the orders from this area.

Kris made one more sip and the aroma of Macchiato enwrapped the studio.  I had to continue:

- I don’t want to arise suspicions. I… - I stammered and the man fixedly glanced at me, - I was told I should not contact with you.

For some time we both were silent, looking at each other.

- And why you disobeyed? – Calmly interested the man with his extremely thrilling low voice.

- Because it was too late, - admitted I and started to unwind the scarf confusedly. Standing few minutes in the warm room I started to thaw.

- Then take off your clothes and stand in front of me, - told me Kris and sat on his socle chair.

Everything was ready. Seemingly he even never doubted that I can not arrive. Finding myself near the familiar sofa I hesitated. From here with the light on and without any curtains I will be obviously seen by the late passer by. The artist noticed my hesitation and anticipating the question answered:

- No one is interested in what is going on here. Undress.

His last word sounded like an order and I fastened to dispose of the clothes.  It was not easy under his precise gaze, so I could not cope with the bra’s clasp. My hands were trembling desperately and I shifted from one leg to the other, for it to be not so noticeable. He noticed.

- You should have drunk for courage, if it left you suddenly, - said he arrogantly.

- It’s not because of this. My fingers stiffened while I walked here from the train stop, - I lied without batting an eye.

Finally when I was done with the bra, I shyly pulled the elastic of the low part of the linen. It smoothly got down to my feet, overstepping it and neatly folding it on the sofa I went to the easel.  Each time standing in front of the artist mother- I felt myself so embarrassed that I wanted immediately leave the studio and forget the way to it forever.

- How should I stand? -  My voice broke at the end of the phrase and I coughed.

Kris silently measured me with his eyes and, without betraying any emotions, took the brush in his hands.

- Just stand. Lower your hands down.

I grudgingly removed my palms that were covering the lower part of my abdomen.  Even though he has already seen everything two times I was embarrassed, feeling that that way I am absolutely unprotected in front of him. Kris started to work and I was staring at him.  He was fully concentrated on his work, as if he was in the other universe. His macchiato colored eyes were sliding u and down my body, smoothly delineating its every curve. And under his gaze my body evoked, trembled and raged, in each moment ready to rush to this godly tempting Asian man.  Can I even account for my actions? For my thoughts? Why does he so dangerously and wild affect me?

- When are your monthlies? – His unexpected question elicited me from my sweet dreams.

- What? – I asked, even when I clearly heard it.

Kris looked up at me with his almond-shaped eyes. His plum lips spread in a smile that made my body cover in goose bumps, for a moment. How can he smile that way that make my whole fragile inner world wamble.

- When do you have your menstruation? – The artist repeated his question slowly.

I gazed at him stunned.

- Why do you ask?

- Your s filled, - as nothing happened answered the man, shooting me a glance. My hands instinctively flounced to the chest. – And the lower abdomen outstands. Maybe you just didn’t relieved yourself, - added he with a smirk in his voice.

My cheeks reddened.
 
- Next week, - hollowly answered I. To tell the truth I never knew how to talk about it with Kris, so to some extend I was grateful that he himself asked.

- I will take it into consideration.

I didn’t say a word after. I thought that I was posing for more than two hours but Kris was sitting at the easel, flapping the brush and sprinkling the watercolors around him. Prague drifted into sleep and I slowly stared to nid-nod, staggering. Usually at this time I was long snuffling in my warm cozy bed, so the natural physical need of my organism manifested itself. I yawned loudly, making the man to break away from the picture.

- Take coffee, - told he, nodding in the direction of the sill.

Macchiato was long cooled and, making a sip, I made a wry face: moreover it seemed to be even bitterer. The same moment I froze, slowly remove the mug from the lips.

That’s how over indirect kiss happened – our first kiss.