How to play with men even if you are a fat woman of 30+?
Simple as that. You only need to know two simple rules. I'll tell you now.
As an example, the situation when he came to meet you on the street, and then you went to the Central Department Store and he paid you a dress for 100+ thousand rubles will suit?
What if I tell you that I didn't even kiss him and he texted me every day after that?
The main thing is to know your own value, my friend!
Look.
I went for a walk on Patriki. Hat, glasses, smooth legs in light summer clogs.
It was during the day, because in the evening there is nothing to catch: people are like at a May Day demonstration and everything is already packed with pick-up trucks instead of "real men".
She waggled her hips, swam through the streets without hurrying anywhere, smiled at every post with lips circled in bright red lipstick and radiated feminine bliss with all her might.
It was as if I knew in advance that in just three hours I would be tightly squeezing the "man" with my finger rings at the very base, not letting him come without my permission.
One car, the other, the main thing is not to pay attention to them.
Only the one who passes by will circle around and then pull up behind me again to admire my 90 75 100 action figure.
"Need a ride?"
Here are the girls. This is the most important thing. It has already positioned itself. Then the main thing is not to miss. The man offered himself as a driver – okay, so we communicate with him as a driver. So he's ready for it.
"I'm going to the Central Department Store," I said curtly and commandingly. That's exactly what they like.
Behind me was a sleek, clean black typewriter. I don't know much about brands, I won't lie, but there were no rear seats, and that's fine.
"Sit down…"
I walked around the front of the car, creating a small traffic jam on Bronnaya Street, and stopped at the door. By no means did I discover it myself.
Cars in the back began beeping. But I just kept batting my eyelashes prettily from under my hat and glasses, as if I didn't even know how doors worked.
He bent down and opened the door from the inside.
This won't do, Kid, I think to myself.
I stand the same way. He knows what he has to do, and we're not going anywhere until he does what I want him to do.
The drivers behind him were clearly angry, but I waited until my boyfriend got out and opened the door for me.
"Oh, thank you. You're so gallant, " I said in a small voice as I stared at him. A blue suit, a crooked, sad gray face, clean-shaven, the top button of a white shirt unbuttoned, the belt tightly dividing the body into two parts, leaving a weighty, despite still young age, belly hanging over it. Ironed trousers.
Millionaires aren't always like the ones in your novels. Sometimes it's just very rich schmucks who spent their entire lives licking their superiors ' assholes.
Balding and most likely with a very sluggish potency. Usually, if the belt shackles the body so much , the blood no longer flows, as in a young guy. But I had yet to learn the opposite.
"Have a seat."
I carefully put one leg at a time in the expensive lacquered wheelbarrow. It smelled good inside, and music was playing.
He returned to his seat, shamefacedly not meeting the eyes of the other drivers who were honking their horns at us.
That's nice. For the role of a means of payment, I need such a balding patient.
