My heart was beating like crazy when I was walking up the stairs, afraid to stumble.

My palms got wet, cheeks flushed and voice disappeared somewhere.  Where the hell I threw myself at two o’clock at night?  Kris, the same as at the previous time met me in the passage, leaning to the jamb with his left shoulder. The artist wore black bike with the lettering «COMMEdesDOWN» and deep red narrow pants. His head was covered with the black cap. I froze in front of him, feeling the yucky tension in the abdomen.  From the man wiffed the smell of sour fragrance and heady manly smell, from which the thoughts in my head danced off in a mad dance.

- Come in, - shortly told he, leaving me into the studio again.

I nodded and overstepped the threshold. Everything in the studio was as it has been left before. Only that instead of a cup of coffee there was a tall glass of yellow colored juice on the sill. Kris closed the door after me and with the smooth gait walked to his working place and sat on the tube, silently examining me. My appearance was pretty rumpled and sleepy, so I hastily smoothened my hair and slapped my cheeks few times.

- I from drag you out from your bed? – Complacently smiled the artist and I noticed as the color of his eyes gained mild honey tint.

- Yes, at that time I already sleep, - admitted I with the hoarse voice that I wasn’t able to recover yet.

- How do you feel? – asked he and from that kind of question somehow I felt very cozy.

I hesitated with the answer, not sure how to tell him that I felt myself very nasty and it was like inside of me someone blew the rubber ball. Spasmalgon slightly lessened the pain that from the belly shifted to the loin.

- Not well.  I… they began. Um…started.

Kris sprinkled with laughter and I stared at him amazedly.  It was pretty uncomfortable to announce him such intimate details either way. His laugh was amazing.

- Understood, - he managed to pull himself together in a few seconds.  – You could have called things by its names.

I answered nothing.

- Does your belly hurt? – Now being serious asked Asian.

- Very, - I groaned

Kris straightened and stepped towards me.

- Take off your coat, - commanded he and I surrendered, getting rid of outerwear.

I was standing in front of him in the knitted sweater and leggings not knowing what to await. Kris situated his palms on my shoulders and slightly but demandingly pressed on them, making me drop on the floor. From his touch goose bumps ran across my body.

- Sit Turkish style, - said he, sitting on the floor in front of me.

I crossed my legs, never keeping my eyes off him. And the artist at the same time put his hands on my patella and I twitched from suddenness.  Not paying any attention at my moves, he slowly brought my legs together and then, pulling at the inner sides put them at the floor again, performing this procedure three times he removed his hands.

- Continue doing it this way.

I started to bring my legs together and then spread them, gradually feeling that the muscles started to come to the tone. The man continued to sit in front and intensely watch me perform the exercises. And where only he knows from that this way you can lessen the pain during the menstruation?  After about seven minutes he stood up and walked to the sill, taking in his hands the glass of juice. He made a sip and I felt the smell of peach. Intercepting my gaze, he artist nodded at the low sofa.

- Lay there.

I pushed up my legs and unconfidently lay down on my back, not having a single thought about what does the artist have on his mind. Kris walked to the sofa and bent down to his knees, surrounding me with the aroma of his affecting smell. In the next moment he pushed his palm under my sweater and landed it on my bare belly.  I went out of breath and hastily covered his hands with mine, making them no to move. What the hell is he going to do?

- Take off your hands, - said his with his dominant voice, striking me with a collected gaze from under his cap.

I returned my hands unwillingly and Kris started with the slow round palm movements across my stiff belly. His touch was so tender that I had to bit my lower lip for not to squeak. The artist was deep into the process of massaging, looking at the patterns on my sweater and I was absorbed by the feelings that were awakened by his touch. Gradually I relaxed and the pain started to fully attenuate. I felt so calm, warm and cozy that I didn’t even manage to mention that I was falling into sweet dreams.

- Lazy time is over; - I heard a sharp low voice. I woke up in a moment. Kris was standing near and, his folded hands on his chest, looking at me, - get to the waistline.

I hastily took off the shirt, the bra and with the pedant neatness put them near me on the sofa. Only now I felt that the and the belly stopped torturing me, from time to time only reminding about themselves with muffled pushes somewhere deep inside.  The artist left to the easel and, gripping the fresh paper list of A3 format and the set of griefless, returned to the sofa.  Sitting on the floor two meters from me he said:

- Lay down. Throw your legs on the back of the sofa, hands on the armrest and turn your head to me.

I completed everything that he asked, getting surprised that this work he is going to make in pencil in black-and-white colors.  In that pose my ribs clearly emerged from the skin and for a minute I imagined how they would look at the picture. Not fully I felt myself much more confident, so I had the courage to ask the question that was on the tip of my tongue since the very first second , when I heard the velvet enveloping voice of the Chinese on the phone.

- Where were you?

He looked up at me and I lost courage from my rashness. His eyes were dark, cold, and motionless.

- Should I remind you the conditions? I do not accept any questions. Everything, that concerns me, doesn’t concern you; - he cut with the haughty tone.

- Understood, - silently answered I, swallowing.

I was offended, so didn’t utter a word. I wanted confess Kris that I have been waiting for this call during all these days that I was happy to hear his voice midst the night and was absolutely blissful to rush to him in a taxi through the November Prague.  The rain outside the windows has already lulled, only rare drops from the rooftop were falling with the hollow sound on the sill, merging into slow thread melody. I was lying down and listening to it.

Kris never got away from his work, intently outputting on the paper. It was unusually to see him with the pencil in the hand and I was curious about what will come out in the end. I don’t know how much time passed, but my hands become to get numb and I moved for him to understand that my body begs for the break.  The man broke away from the picture and looked at me.

- A taxi or we’ll ride a bike? – asked he.

Drive me? On a bike? From the suddenness I autocratically changed the pose. I was damn sure that inside Kris is triumphing.

- To my very home? – asked I a question, as if his decision about driving me on a motorbike was no-negotiable already.

- To your very home, - answered he in a low voice. – And now get into the pose that you left without my permission.

The work was ready nearly at five o’clock in the morning and sadly thought that I most likely wouldn’t have be so fortunate to sleep before the working day, so I will have to drink at least one cup of coffee for not to fall asleep in front of a notebook. When I was dressing up Kris put me on the bag 200 dollars and my eyebrows cocked up.

- 150-for your today’s suffering, 50 – from the sale of the artwork, - explained the man, clothing himself into black leather jacket in parallel.

Confusedly hiding the money in a bag, I wrapped myself in a scarf and straightened, ready to leave the studio. The artist was standing in front of me, slightly tilting his head.

- Thank you.

The Asian ignored my gratitude and went out to the stairs first. Undecidedly I stepped after him, anticipating the ride on a bike. My heartbeat increased and hands were shaking. We got down and I waited while Kris wheeled out from the small placement black YamahaR1, from the only gaze at which I felt the slight head spinning. The man held out a helmet for me, the second one he had already put up on his head. I took it timidly, not having a single thought of how to put it on properly: it turned out to be absolutely big for me. Kris had already sat down on a sit and I was still loitering. Looking back he irritably sight.

- Come here, - he said.

- Um, I never put up a helmet and never rode a bike, - I explained away, waiting patiently, when he is going to be ready with the belt.

- Can be seen. Sit down and hold me.

My heart beat like crazy. I sat on a sit, putting the boots on the footsteps from the both sides of the bike and gripped Kris’ jacket with the fingertips. His smell befuddled me, obscured my consciousness.

- You are going to fall down on the very first turning, - said Kris and, seizing my palms, pulled me nearer with force, making me entwine his waist with both my hands. My fingers linked up on the level of his zip fly and I gasped involuntarily.

With the single touch of his hand Kris started the engine and we rushed sharply into the predawn twilight along the paved roadway. I felt completely happy.