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Gary BRANDNERo sausage lying on the inside of the thigh. - What do you think? - Violated the protracted pause Kingman. - Your. your. Your My-member. What happened to you? Can not say the word aloud? Farley only Tarashcha to it. Kingman shook his head. - Member of, among other things, is everyone so? And you probably no worse than my. By Farley returned the gift of speech. - So what’s the secret? - In trousers, man, in trousers. They stapled to order. Put there pants, and I promise you, women will not leave you alone.

Including yours. as its name? - Valerie. - Is about. Farley again Charter pants. Even obsharpannoy make-up rooms are fascinating sight. - Where can I buy them? - Pisknul he said. Kingman villages. Magnificent pants natyanulis fully repeating bends his body in their flat surface does not appear either fold. At the top sheet of notebook wrote a few words, pulled out a piece, extended Farley. It read: MisterPents *.

Modi Place, 369 -* English - pants, Moody Place? - This is Beverly Hills, close to Rodeo Drive. Find easily. Farley looked at the two lines, as the magic formula that turns lead into gold. - I do not know, I thank you. - Just Fuck off and leave me alone. I am tired. Farley, pyatyas, vyvalilsya of make-up room, is not worshiped. Protolkalsya through security and crowd fanatok, crossed the hall, where the cleaners collected debris in large plastic bags, climbed the stairs in the accounts department.

Valerie Mons briefly looked at him, then returned to the figures in the display computer. Honey-colored hair soft waves frame her face-heart. Farley clamor sglotnul. - Hi, Valerie. Her muttering to go and counter-greeting. - Coming soon finish? - No. - Listen, I am not too nikuda toroplyus. Maybe go somewhere, drink coca and all that? - No. - So I drop you home. - I podvezut. - Maybe zavtraValeri again raised its head.

Eyebrows agreed on a sky-blue eyes. Full cherry sponge nadulis. Yes so that Farley went heart. - Calm down, Farley. You might be a good guy, but not for me. You’re not my taste. You are not my institute. I do not want you to meet. Neither today nor tomorrow, nor in general. Please, please, please, Leave me alone. - Then good night - and went Farley, szhimaya in kulake sheet. Well, he thought, tomorrow we’ll review your words.* morning, went to Beverly Hills,Farley, to his amazement, immediately bumped at Moody Place.

Typically, instruction will find no difficulty does not correspond to reality. But this dark, narrow streets, rather proulok, deviated from the Rodeo Drive between Sunset and Santa Monica. In contrast to the elegant shops on the famous street, at the brief, one-quarter, Modi Street stood gray and obsharpannye home. The only sign, a wooden plaque, hung above the door of the house of 369. Gold letters on brown background read: MISTER PENTS.

Heavy green drapery closes the window-shop window, the interior compartment of foreign business. Crossed the threshold, Frli entered the dark, dark room, does not like the usual commercial facilities. Neither you exhibition stands, no dummies, or expansions of shelving products. Yes still bare concrete floor. Is that the walls were decorated with small, eight to ten inch photographs of the stars of rock music. The same person he had seen on the covers Rolling Stone.

These krikunov women fly like flies - to honey. Among them cut a wide swath and face Dzhodzho Kingmana. Behind the counters on a single rack lying cutting tissue. Closed wooden door must be conducted in podsobku. Farley ran in the skin creep. In the store it definitely did not like. Under the views of the legends of rock, he went to the counters, otkashlyalsya. - Is there anyone? There was no reply, so he zabarabanil fingers on the counters.

Went even thirty seconds before the door opened in the far wall and the other counters went to the old man. The delicate, crooked, with sedymi hair, humpback nose and glasses without frames with thick lenses. Question looked at Farley. - Ya, I would like to buy trousers. - Naturally - fyrknul old man. - Otherwise, by coming here? - Your special pants. - Others I did not sell. - E. I sent Dzhodzho Kingman. From Cancer brain. The old man did not respond to a famous name.

Peregnulsya over the counter, looked Farley from head to toe, then sharply turned and disappeared outside the door. We Farley heart sank. Again belt. And he had already headed for the door when the old man appeared again. In the hands he held a rust-colored trousers. - Primerte these. - E. you have a cubicle? - Do you have what scruples? - Well. No - Farley took the pants out of the hands of the old man. Soft as finely currently providing suede, lightweight, as Japanese silk.

The warm to the touch. At dusk the business runs a reddish background gold sparkle. For shtanami in the hands, he went to draw porteroy window. Gold sparkle gleam as living beings. Farley spent material on the cheek. Such a fine could be only palm favorite. Celebrities vzirali him from the walls. Since gulko fragile heart Farley has considered trousers. Naked mature wemon a new friend pita. No lightning, no buttons or hooks. No pockets or under the belt loops or folds or wristband.

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