New level

She and Oleg had been dating for three years already, a considerable amount of time. The relationship dragged on sluggishly and monotonously—movies, cafes, bed. At first, it was interesting, but now the moment had come when they either had to break up or move to a new level. Breaking up seemed like too much effort. Yes, yes. Exactly, effort. They'd have to "divide" friends, explain everything to them, find a new sex partner... All downsides, in short.

So, they needed to move to another level. But what kind of level was that? Marriage? No way! Excuse me. She was only twenty-seven, with so many opportunities, so much interesting stuff... Family and children were out of the question. Getting fat like her friends and slowly

cruising the streets, pushing a colorful stroller in front of her—that wasn't for her.

Irina wanted adventures, dreamed of resort romances and sexual intrigues. Oleg took her to his grandmother's to dig potatoes. He generally disliked seeking anything new, fussing, or taking risks. Home, work, the vegetable garden—that was his world. But even he understood that something needed to be done, otherwise a breakup was inevitable. And he proposed an idea.

It must be said, he managed to pleasantly surprise Irina. The most she could have expected from him was breakfast in bed and sex in the back seat of the car. (Oh, what an extreme adventure!) But Oleg made an effort and came up with The Idea. Role-playing games! And not just "Plumber and Housewife," but a full-fledged adventure.

The plan was this. In the evening, Irina goes out for a walk, gets on a bus, goes to the park, and there, in the mysterious gloom, she strolls. That's when a "very scary rapist" will attack the girl. Then everything is clear—a bit of playful struggle, cheerful squealing, and a couple of minutes of gazing at the starry sky with legs spread. Simple, but intriguing.

So—it was time. Irina checked her makeup in the mirror, grabbed her purse, and set off. She took the purse not at all to fend off the "rapist," she just put a bath towel and mosquito spray in there. Role-playing was good, but sitting bare-bottomed on the ground while being attacked by bloodsuckers wasn't very pleasant... Been there, done that.

By the time she left the building and reached the bus stop, she met several neighbors. The men's eyes noticeably lit up. Good, not for nothing did she wear a white, tight-fitting top and an airy, very light skirt just above the knee. White top, dark bottom—everything as it should be.

The greedy looks from men on the bus flattered and aroused her; it seemed even her nipples showed through the top. Hopefully they did, it's much sexier that way. Irina casually tossed back a disobedient lock of hair and scanned the bus with her eyes; several men quickly looked away. Wonderful.

It wasn't very crowded near the park. Young people preferred more illuminated streets, where fountains sparkled and music blared. Irina loved those too, but their plan wouldn't have worked there.

The park was old and quite overgrown; if the main alleys were still maintained, the bushes along the other paths had grown wildly. Irina turned onto just such a secluded path.

Yesterday afternoon she had already been here with Oleg; they walked a bit, ate ice cream, and discussed the approximate plan of action. Somewhere around here were supposed to be special bushes where the "rapist" was hiding.

Irina walked along one path, turned onto a second, crossed to a third... Where was Oleg? The park looked completely different in the dark; Irina herself wasn't even sure she had chosen the right path. What bad luck! She could have called, of course, but then the whole mood would have been irrevocably lost, so the phone was turned off and put in her purse. No matter, she'd get her bearings now...

She had to hurry; the last thing she needed was for Oleg to lose patience and go somewhere, then they could spend the whole night looking for each other. No way, she had completely different plans for this night. Irina scurried along the paths; you can't hurry much in high heels, she had to shuffle awkwardly, pressing her elbows to her sides and holding her bouncing high breasts.

Finally, the girl spotted lush bushes that seemed familiar to her. Here a branch was broken, here a pack of cigarettes lay... yes, definitely this was the place, but why wasn't Oleg appearing? Decided to hold a dramatic pause or fell asleep in there?

Irina demonstratively clicked her heels past the bushes. No reaction. It was already dark, and it was impossible to make out what was happening in the thickets. The girl listened; it seemed like someone was snoring or was it her imagination? No, definitely someone was there! Oleg, you bastard, how long are you going to hide?

Pushing aside the bushy thickets, shielding her eyes with her purse, Irina resolutely stepped into the bushes. One step, another. Suddenly the branches disappeared, and the girl found herself in a small clear space. Something like a children's hideout, a secret place. Only the kids seemed a bit too big...

A silent scene. Two young men froze in front of Irina; their age was hard to determine immediately. Baggy clothes, hoods pulled over their heads. One was shining a phone light, and the other was moving a lighter flame under a tablespoon. Drug addicts!

The girl was bewildered; the bushes behind her, as if on purpose, closed up, cutting off the retreat. Calm, just calm. Maybe nothing would happen.

— Girl, are you completely nuts? This is our spot, get moving! — the guy with the flashlight moved in on Irina, but his friend, putting down the spoon, stopped him:

— Vitya, wait. Vitya, no need. Vitya, we need to figure this out. Vitya, look what she's like, — the addict spoke in short phrases, he was swaying quite a bit, his hands couldn't find a place. He hugged his shoulders, then started gesturing. Irina got scared; you could expect anything from such people.

— Okay, — Vitya agreed easily; it seemed if you suggested he put a drum around his neck and go to Mars to conquer sleepwalkers, he would agree just as easily and casually.

— G-guys, I'll go, okay? I'm here by accident..., — Irina began, but the first one interrupted her as if he hadn't heard:

— Girl, let's get acquainted. Girl, I'm Pasha. Girl, can I touch you?

— No! — Irina squealed when the addict Pasha reached his hands toward her.

— Vitya, help, — Pasha demanded. — Vitya, she's resisting. You can't resist. You need to be obedient.

Irina thought Vitya would grab her, but he only approached, looked into her eyes, and insinuatingly said:

— Be obedient.

The girl froze; these were the eyes of a sick, even insane person. Empty, cold, and very, very stupid. A person with such eyes could kill, maim, and then not even remember.

The girl's silent horror, the addicts took for consent and submission. The proactive Pasha, slightly hunched and bringing his face close to Irina, grabbed her breast. The thinnest top was no substantial obstacle; thin, knotty fingers squeezed the firm hemispheres, the tender mounds obediently lay in his palms.

— Vitya, you try. Vitya, try—you won't regret it! — Pasha generously yielded his place to his comrade, who, like a sleepwalker, stretched out his arms to their full length and began methodically squeezing her breasts. It would have been funny if it weren't so scary.

When Pasha squatted down and ran his hands from her ankles to her thighs, Irina squeezed her eyes shut. Wanted adventures for her backside—got them. Now that very backside was being kneaded by the hands of a complete stranger.

The addict slipped his hands under her panties, feeling the tender crotch and soft buttocks, tried to push a finger into her pussy, but didn't succeed, then he slightly pulled the elastic of the panties and slid them down to the ground.

— Lift your skirt. Come on, lift it, — Pasha commanded.

Tapping out a tap dance with her teeth from fear, Irina grabbed the skirt by the sides and lifted it high. Pasha immediately illuminated the tempting sight with his phone:

— That's good. Come on, Vitya. Pull down your pants, — and setting an example for his friend, he quickly pulled his own down.

Irina froze for a moment; the picture was simply incredible. Her with her skirt lifted and two addicts with their pants down. Like in a joke... what happened next there?

— What are you doing!? — Pasha shouted offendedly when Irina, without lowering her skirt, tore away. She jumped out of her panties with an incredibly long leap, which also helped her overcome the thick bushes. The nasty squeak of her left heel indicated that the feat wasn't without losses, but as long as the shoe was still holding, she needed to run.

From the side, it was probably funny to watch as a young brunette in high heels shuffled comically through the dark park with her skirt lifted high and no underwear, while two addicts, staggering and cursing, chased after her, pulling up their dropped pants as they ran. A chase in the best traditions of Bond, no less.

And yet, she had no chance; the addicts dealt with their pants and noticeably picked up speed; Irina also pushed with her last strength, cursing her bouncing breasts, which were very much in the way. Realizing she couldn't outrun them in a straight line, the girl rushed through a hedge onto the neighboring path. The dense shrubbery crackled furiously, its stiff branches catching on her clothes. The fabric ripped, and Irina emerged on the other side holding only pitiful remnants of her skirt. However, she would think about how to return home with a bare bottom later; the persistent addicts were pushing through the bushes, so she needed to run further.

But here, too, fate made its adjustments; barely had the girl taken a few steps when the damaged heel treacherously broke. Unable to keep her balance, Irina awkwardly plopped onto the ground, burying her nose in the grass and lifting her bottom high. Come and take it—the goods are ready for consumption.

— Aha! — the joyful Pasha grabbed the girl, who hadn't managed to get up, by the buttocks.

— Wow! — Vitya appreciated Irina's charms.

— Don't! — Irina bleated in fright.

— H-ha! — a mighty figure emerging from the darkness, with a powerful blow, deprived Pasha of several teeth and sent him into a deep knockout.

— What are you doing? — Vitya still didn't understand anything, and the mysterious stranger already slammed the back of his head against the asphalt path.

Stunned by what was happening, Irina shifted her gaze from the beaten addicts to the unexpected savior. A sturdy man about thirty-five, athletic build, short-cropped hair. His strong-willed face leaned over the girl:

— Are you okay? Does anything hurt or do you need an ambulance?

— N-no, — Irina gratefully accepted the stranger's hand, got up, and belted herself with the sports jacket he had taken off. Did he manage to get a good look at her bottom? Maybe she shouldn't have been in such a hurry with the jacket...

— The bastards have gotten completely insolent, — the stranger commented as they moved away from the scene of the fight. — Good thing I run here every evening before bed.

— Yes, good, — Irina appraisingly examined her savior. His proportions definitely appealed to her, and her experienced eye, even in the dark, noted the absence of a ring.

— Let me walk you, — the man offered.

— Where to? — Irina didn't understand but readily took the man's arm.

— Home, — the stranger patiently explained. — You must be terribly frightened, and in such a state. Don't be afraid, I won't bother you.

His readiness to help pleased Irina, but the last phrase not so much.

— And what's your name? — the girl coquettishly turned away, pretending to adjust the jacket and "completely accidentally" demonstrated her curves. — Maybe you'll lead me into some alley and take advantage of the situation.

— What are you saying!? How could I, — the man was indignant. — My name is Vladislav, just Vlad is fine. If you want, I'll give you my phone number—call your friends, let them come pick you up.

— No-no, I don't want to bother anyone, — Irina hurriedly refused. — I trust you completely... Only, you know, I'm still a bit shaken from everything that happened, maybe a cup of coffee with a spoon of cognac could help...

— I live just a stone's throw away, but that's probably inconvenient..

— Wonderful! — Irina didn't let him finish, — You're just my savior, how lucky I met you. Simply incredible! Well, shall we go?

— Ah... Um... Yes., — Vlad couldn't withstand the pressure.

Irina, with one quick motion, fixed her hair, straightened her top. Vlad pretended to be looking at the scenery, but the girl managed to catch his appraising glance. Aha, interested! No way you're escaping now. Irina felt like a real predator, and she liked it very much. Maybe this was exactly what she lacked in her relationship with Oleg?

Stop! What about Oleg!? She had completely forgotten about him, and that klutz was probably still running around the bushes in the dark. Irina twisted her head, trying to make out Oleg's figure in the darkness.

— Don't be afraid, — Vlad misunderstood the girl's concern. — They won't come back, they're just addicts, they only seem scary, but in reality, they're stupid and cowardly... unless the dose hits their brain, but these ones were still sane.

— But they were sooo scary, — Irina perked up. — I was so scared, I couldn't even move. And look—I got my knees dirty when I fell.

Stepping into the dim light of a streetlamp, Irina demonstrated her knees to her savior, sliding her palm over them and running her hand higher, so the man's gaze could follow along her thighs.

— See?

— I see, — the man nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the shapely legs. — I'll be right back! There's a kiosk nearby, I'll buy some mineral water!

Before Irina could look back, she was alone again. Damn heels! Can't catch up in them... Well, he won't go far, he'll be back.

Irina quickly considered her options. She could apologize to Vlad and go look for Oleg, but that was so boring! She wanted an adventure! A real romantic adventure. So she needed to find the right approach to Vlad. She had already invited herself over for "tea," so the defenses weren't that impregnable...

— Miss, feeling lonely?

Irina shuddered in surprise when a saccharine voice sounded near her ear.

— What's up, chick, wanna have some fun? — a man swaggered up to her... Oleg! What had he put on!? White pants, a pink shirt unbuttoned, and sunglasses on his head. Apparently, he thought that's how a rapist should look.

— Oleg, listen, I..., — Irina began uncertainly, trying to figure out what to say.

— What Oleg, chick? Come on, don't struggle! Let's go to the bushes, chick, — Oleg, fully in his role, grabbed the girl by the elbow and pulled her along.

— No