Who is Maria? Is that what you want to know? Is she beautiful? Is she smart? I will tell you. Later. I can't do it now. I must run. It's almost lunch. And Fedya is about to come.
Fedya from Moscow. A car mechanic. Who now shoots photos. I'm not surprised. He was also shooting photos of all of his cars. The cars that he was repairing. He was always asking me "Petr, Petr, can I make photos of your car? Your car is the best, I must have photos of it."
I always said no. "Fedya, you will not take photos of my car. You can repair it, but no photos." I have no idea what he does with those photos. Maybe he sells them? Maybe he hides them? Maybe he does something which I cannot even imagine? I don't care.
But now he is shooting girls. I would say it's an upgrade. I go to the studio. It's on the fourth floor. I take the steps. I want to pump my legs. Thick thighs is power. You want to have legs that stretch out any pants. I'm wearing dark and slim straight slacks. They are the shit in St. Petersburg. Slim pants and thick legs. It's a combo for girls' attention.
I take double steps in the stairwell. I like to have a full range of motion and I move faster that way. I must make it before lunch. The lunch is always 12:00 o'clock sharp. People become mindless YouTube-junkies when the clock hits noon. They're gossiping and eating ramen noodles and rice cookies. Women are. Men don't eat that crap.
I reach the fourth floor and open large double doors into the studio. These doors are way larger than what is necessary. This building used to be a Soviet military research facility. So everything must accommodate tanks and stuff like that.
"Who is this? Fedya?" I yell immediately to Fedya as I see him in the middle of the studio, all by himself. "Fedya the Mechanic, unbelievable." Fedya looks flabbergasted. His mind is not clicking very fast. He is a mechanic, after all. "Fedya, it's me, Petr. Don't look like an idiot. Or you will never have a chance to take photos of my car."
Fedya: "Petr, I don't believe it. I come here for a photoshoot, but I see Mr. Mustang. How are you, my friend? How is life? Are you married? Do you have kids?"
That's typical Fedya, asking more questions than anyone can answer and not even waiting for most of the answers, he just likes to fill the airwaves. To put him in place, I don't answer any of his questions but break his balls. That's what real men do. "Fedya, who has given you permission to shoot anything but cars? I don't see any cars here? You must be confused. You also ended up in the wrong city. You should be in Moscow."
Fedya starts to laugh. It has a repetitive high pitched rhythm. It's quite contagious.
Fedya: "Petr, you son a bitch. Come here and I will show what a car mechanic can do."
He grabs me in a tight hug and wrestles me a bit. It's brotherly love. Even though he is not my brother. I don't have brothers.
I'm trying to break his grip by grabbing his right shoulder, bringing my weight to left. At that moment, Nastya walks in, with three girls. They are the models. With clean stockings.
Nastya stops in her tracks and opens her mouth. Her head is turning from side to side and her horse mane hair is fluffing along. She is trying to understand what is happening in the studio and why I'm there. I never participate in the photoshoots. They take forever and are not as glamorous as one would think. Even if there are girls in stockings.
Nastya: "Petr, what are you doing here? What are you strangling Fedya? What is going on?" The girls are equally confused. And cold. They are only wearing tight tops and small black leather caps.
Fedya: "Anastasia Ivanovna, I'm ready to work. Petr, let go of me!" He shoves me. He has no more words to say to Nastya. He looks at me. I look at him and then at Nastya: "These photographers that you have Nastya, they are no good. I was testing his strength: Weak. No muscular build." I squeeze his neck with my left hand. He lets out squealing sound. "See, pure slothfulness." Fedya starts to laugh. Nastya starts to get annoyed. The girls are looking bored. But still beautiful.
Nastya: "I don't know what is going on but I have a deadline today for the photos, the girls are ready, Fedya, are you ready? Where is the car?"
Fedya: "The car is in the makeup. My assistant Sergey makes her look pretty. Five minutes, five minutes."
"Nastya," I say to her and walk towards her. "Keep your eyes on Fedya. He's one bastard." I stop in front of Nastya. The girls are half a meter behind her. I don't look at them, but I know they are checking out my thick legs. Of course. How could they not to.
Nastya: "Petr, I don't know what you are talking about, you are making me late, and my project late. Girls, let's go."
I don't move. Nastya and the girls walk past me. They smell like vanilla and lavender. Much nicer than Nastya's pungent perfume. I turn around and check out their butts. Three gorgeous butts. Moving from side to side as they walk in high heels towards the set. Dark translucent stockings do more than enough justice for those wonderful peaches. My pants start to feel tighter.
Chapter 4: Studio on the Fourth Floor