Ruthra turned off the embankment and sped down the busy street, the music playing loudly in the car, only occasionally drowned out by YatSan's squeals. Rutra zigzagged and labyrinthed through the cars, moving between the lanes with an arrow, and then he came to an intersection, turned around with a skid and a slip, and sped back down the oncoming lane.

– Rutra, stop it. Ruthra, I don't want to anymore. Oh my god. Ahhhh," YatSan squealed, and that turned him on even more. – Rutra, please stop. I'm scared," she yelled, but he just smiled.

After another skid-and-turn turn, YatSan squealed:

– I knew you were crazy, but not to this extent.

– Not to that extent? Then look," Ruthra said, and as the car sped off like a rocket, he fired a real flare in the direction of travel.

She flew out and turned into a mini meteorite, which, crashing into the atmosphere from outer space, gives us the hope of the fulfillment of the wish we made while doing so. YatSan watched the scene with fright and excitement. Rutra took out a shiny thing that looked like a sci-fi weapon from the movies and shot a stream of sparkling rays into the sky, where they lit up and turned into the inscription, "YatSan, I love you!" It was marvelous. She watched with bated breath, her eyes glistening even more, and involuntarily a small crystal, no less shiny than the one on her finger, rolled down her cheek. YatSan looked up at the sky and watched the blurring letters, glancing occasionally at Ruthra. He put his hand on her thigh and occasionally made deliberately sharp lunges of the machine to the right, as if inertially running his naughty fingers over the "start" button, which was known to many as point K. Rutra was a master of such acupressure, and further acupuncture as well. The mythical G-spot, which women in the realm of bliss so often made men look for and which they could not find because the ladies secretly changed its position, was like a wandering fire of passion, jumping from the earlobe, the curves of the neck to the labyrinths of the navel and heels. Point K, on the other hand, had a precise location. So, having given a signal to this point, which even the promiscuous ladies responded to the memory of fingerprints that opened their "safe", among whom Casanova was especially remembered, although Don Juan and even the Marquis de Sade were pleasant memories, Rutra beckoned to YatSan with the signal of a wet lock pick, which was getting rough from brandy, especially for the age of the mistress of the "vase", where the petal of the blazing flower was hidden.

Of course, such comments were born in Rutra's mind as he looked at the screen, from the passionate thoughts that YatSan had in her mind on that very screen. What was going on in Yiulia's head, Rutra didn't want to check, he just needed to feel it. She was not a timid lady, if not a determined one. Ruthra was silent, he liked it.

On the screen, however, the characters pulled into a quiet neighborhood to a beautiful mansion. Rutra pulled out a fancy, rhinestone-studded "queen" mask.

– We're gonna be a mystery. We're playing mafia. Put it on.

– What about you?

– I'll walk you out.

He helped YatSan put on the mask, stepped out, opened the door, and led her inside. Inside, they were greeted by a large hallway, more like a reception hall, with rounded side staircases leading up to the second level; Ruthra bypassed them and led YatSan into the next hall. Here was a huge pool, arranged like the baths of the Shahinshahs. There was melodious music playing, loud enough to muffle the sounds of bubbling, artificial geysers and the gurgling jets of a fountain that flowed with burgundy water like dragon's blood. It was young wine. It was young wine that Ruthra loved, for it was the only wine that gave "lifeblood," while aged wine was honored only by the cooper and the oenologist.