Lydia Ivanova. She was shaking her butt so much...
The phone rang demandingly: - Hello! Lidia Mikhailovna, is that you? This is “Big Laundry”, administrator. How could you offend us like that? Just talk to Malakhov himself... - Hello! Lida, how could you spit in my soul like that? And you were the first number for the next shoot. But now - I'm sorry. Okay, Lida, I still love you... Why did I write this? That I, a naive fool, at over sixty years old, believed everyone who sat in the chairs of heroes? So what? And you believed.