"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

tobacco, and perfume.
She collapsed on the hassock and flung her legs up on the
telephone table.
"Throw a cigarette to a working girl," she said. "It's
five hours since I had one."
"I don't smoke. Shall I ring for some?"
"Good Lord, another sad sack! Never mind the phone .. or
that dame will show up again. Rummage around in the ashtray and
find me a good long butt."
The ashtray did have a lot of long butts.
'They all have lipstick on them," said I.
"That's all right; it's my lipstick. What's your name?"
"Ivan."
She snapped a lighter and lit up.
"And mine is Ilina. Are you a foreigner, too? All you
foreigners seem so wide. What are you doing here?"'
"Waiting for Rimeyer."
"I don't mean that! What brought you here, are you
escaping from your wife?"
"I am not married," I said quietly. "I came to write a
book."
"A book? Some friends this Rimeyer has. He came to write a
book. Sex Problems of Impotent Sportsmen. How's your
situation with the sex problem?"
"It is not a problem to me," I said mildly. "And how about
you?"
She lowered her legs from the table.
"That's a no-no. Take it slow. This isn't Paris, you know.
All in good time. Anyway, you should have your locks cut -
sitting there like a perch."
"Like a who?" I was very patient as I had another
forty-five minutes to wait.
"Like a perch. You know the type." She made vague motions
around her ears.
"I don't know about that," I said. "I don't know anything
yet as I have just arrived. Tell me about it, it sounds
interesting."
"Oh no! Not I! We don't chatter. Our bit is a small one -
serve, clean up, flash your teeth, and keep quiet. Professional
secret. Have you heard of such an animal?"
"I've heard," I said. "But who's 'we' - an association of
doctors?
For some reason, she thought this was hilarious.
"Doctors! Imagine that." She laughed. "Well, wise guy,
you're all right - quite a tongue. We have one in the once
like you. One word, and we're all rolling in the aisles.
Whenever we cater to the Fishers, he always gets the job, they
like a good laugh."
"Who doesn't?" said I.
"Well, you are wrong. The Intels, for instance, chased him