Summer is a little life.

My husband and I have been in Anapa for a week now. But right now, I'm alone on the beach. My husband unexpectedly met some of his college buddies on the promenade, and they dragged him off to a bar to celebrate the reunion. I didn't go with them. For me, a "homebody girl," that crowd was too loud and far too presumptuous. I really didn't like the brazen, "undressing" way one of my husband's friends was appraising my figure.

Of course, I'm flattered by men's admiring glances—why hide it. But when they look at me like I'm some publicly available "piece of meat," it drives me into a quiet rage. And here, they were looking at me so presumptuously, people Roman

calls his friends. They were even examining me like some kind of merchandise right in front of him, while my husband's attention was diverted by conversation. Maintaining external politeness in that situation cost me considerable effort. Excusing myself from Roman, I left my dear husband without regret in the company of his loyal friends and went down to the beach to our usual spot.

After swimming in the sea, I lay down to bask on the sand. How pleasant it is to listen to the sound of the surf with closed eyes. In such moments of tranquility, all everyday worries and concerns recede into oblivion, becoming completely unimportant trifles. All problems are immediately washed away beyond the horizon of daily life by a gentle sea wave. How wonderful it is to simply lie under the warm sun with closed eyes, relaxed, listening to the surf. And not to worry about anything, not to think about anything. What more do we need besides this silence and peace amidst the harmony of nature?

"Don't fall asleep—you'll get cold!" chimed a familiar voice nearby. I opened my eyes and saw my beach acquaintance, Sveta. She seemed to have just come out of the sea and was standing over me, blocking the sun with her head.

"I'll think about that problem tomorrow," she laughed, "because today I'm in a bit of a mischievous mood. And anyway, I still have a long way to grow into sainthood. Why are you alone today without your beloved?"

"Well, my husband overindulged in pears and met his college buddies. They're sitting at a bar on the promenade right now."

"That's outrageous and blatant shamelessness on his part! To leave such a beautiful girl to get bored alone on the beach. What if she, cruelly deprived of marital attention, wants some adventures? He'll be tearing his hair out in clumps later if something happens. All the male population of the beach has been eyeing your figure for a long time—they might choke on their own drool any minute."

"Let them choke—their erotic fantasies about me don't bother me in the slightest."

She's a local. She rarely comes to the city beach. She says she doesn't like the crowding of sunbathers and calls the Anapa beach a rookery of seals gone mad from their natural laziness. Sveta's true attitude towards me is somewhat of a mystery. I can't shake a vague feeling that I interest her for some reason far more than my Roman does. I don't even feel the slightest bit jealous of him towards her. My husband has already teased me about this after the beach, observing our chattering. Saying, it seems two birds of a feather have found each other. I think it's because Sveta communicated with him in a pointedly polite but not heartfelt way, as she does with me. She communicated more as if he were an appendage to me. And Roman's male pride was clearly wounded by this attitude.

In our couple, she clearly singled out only me, but at the same time, she was in no way intrusive. Although Sveta is three years younger than me (she's 19), I find her interesting. She's a spirited girl and an extremely big erudite. You could say, a walking encyclopedia on almost all fields of knowledge. You can never guess in advance with her how or on what topic the conversation will turn. Last time we chatted about archaeology and the remnants of pagan rituals in these parts. Sveta has been a volunteer on almost all archaeological digs around Anapa since the seventh grade and could talk for hours enthusiastically about the ancient legends of these places. Moreover, she has an amazing gift for telling stories with a full, so to speak, presence effect. As if she herself had just been a witness and participant in ancient events.

She was especially fascinated by the period of the Bosporan Kingdom, when Anapa was still called Gorgippia. During her stories, Sveta sometimes seemed to me like a visitor to our modern civilization, from which she would soon return to her world of Hellenic poleis on the Black Sea coast. Or perhaps even a Visitor not only from the past but also from the future.

In short, she's a girl you definitely won't get bored with. Sveta wonderfully brightened up the monotony of beach life for me. I wonder—what topic will this lovely sly one choose this time? But now she was just lying there, silent, and looking at me, smiling exactly like a child smiles at a favorite toy. She was simply enjoying life, and I felt that she was also enjoying me a little, simply happy that I was nearby and that she couldn't get enough of looking at me. And I found her childlike spontaneity very pleasant.

I suggested going for a swim. No sooner had we entered the water than some boy, running into the water at full speed, splashed us from head to toe. Sveta suggested swimming away from this restless little crowd to the buoy. Soon we were at the buoy, gently rocking on the small waves.

"Marina, can I ask a tactless question?"

"Well, that depends on what it is."

"I look at you and Roman and wonder, how many men did you have before meeting Roman and after meeting Roman?"

I almost choked: "You could leave me speechless with questions like that."

"Still. Come on, tell me, Marina! I'm so curious..."

"I think your count is definitely higher than mine," I tried to joke vaguely.

"But all the people"—here she gestured broadly with her hand to the surroundings—"want to know the harsh truth of life!!! Come on, tell me, don't torment my soul..."

Actually, Sveta, wittingly or unwittingly, touched on a difficult topic for me. I was silent for a minute, looking at the sun's sparkles. Then I finally decided to answer her: "Roman is my first and only man. We were classmates, and since the ninth grade, he simply didn't let any other guy get close to me until I agreed to marry him. You could say he wore me down into marrying him..."

Sveta looked at me very attentively and said: "Sorry for that question. It just slipped out. Actually, I kind of thought that about you. Well, it's okay. Everything will be fine with you. I promise..."

"I hope at least you're not a lesbian?" I tried to joke my way out of the awkward situation.

Sveta burst out laughing: "That's something you definitely don't need to worry about. I can't stand those clingy lesbians. And why are they so in love with me—do you happen to know?" she joked.

"Oh, Sveta—you really are such a mischievous girl."

"Yes, I am, and I'm proud of it. Well, shall we head to shore?"

I nodded, and soon we were lying side by side on the shore again. Amidst leisurely chatter about this and that, Sveta suggested I go with her to swim at Bolshoy Utrish. She said it's wonderful there, unlike this city beach, at least because the water is so clean, absolutely transparent.

"Utrish is a nature reserve. Dolphins can even frolic in the sea right nearby. Where else can you get such wonderful impressions? My friend and I are planning to go there for the whole day tomorrow. But it would be better if you were without Roman."

"Well, how can I go somewhere without my husband. I can't suggest he stay while I run off somewhere from Anapa with you."

"That's true. Well, it's a pity, of course. Otherwise, we could relax there away from civilization to the fullest. You'd feel what the real Black Sea is like."

Then Roman approached us and greeted Sveta.

"Well, I see you got stuck at the bar for a long time," I reproached him slightly.

"Just symbolically. The guys have to ride their motorcycles to Blagoveshchenka tomorrow. There's a hang gliding competition there, and they're aiming to watch. So they invited me along."

"Are you going?"

"Well, whatever you say, my faithful wife."

"Roma, I can feel you want to go. But let's just make it without me. Personally, the prospect of sitting on a motorcycle, hugging the torso of one of your buddies from behind, doesn't inspire me at all. You'd better go alone."

Roman happily pecked me on the cheek and ran off to swim. I was upset. My husband's inattention was very hurtful, but I tried not to show it in public. Sveta tactfully remained silent for a minute and suggested: "If you want to come with us to Utrish tomorrow, let's meet at the 'Phanagoria' cafe on Pionerskoye Highway. Say, at ten. I promise—you won't regret it. You go to Utrish for the silence, the beauty of nature, and the absolute absence of civilization. And, it's best to go there with a tent, a guitar, and fun, carefree friends."

"Sveta, I really want to. But about tomorrow, I don't know yet. I can't promise you anything right now. In short, whatever happens, happens. Or doesn't..."

Sveta gave me her phone number and said: "Call me if anything. We're ready to wait for you a bit. The main thing is—just stay in touch."

I really wanted to go to Bolshoy Utrish with Sveta. But here everything depended on when exactly my husband would leave with his friends for Blagoveshchenka—before 10 o'clock or after. On the way back from the beach, I tried to carefully find out from Roman about the time of his departure and return. However, he himself didn't really know. He only said that his friends would call him as soon as they woke up.

"Where did these African passions in you come from all of a sudden today?" I asked when our sex was already over and we were lying completely exhausted from mutual caresses.

"You're just so beautiful," Roman cooed in my ear.

I almost blurted out resentfully: "If I'm so beautiful, why are you leaving me for Blagoveshchenka," but I bit my tongue in time. What if he decides to stay in Anapa tomorrow—and I've already set my mind on Utrish with Sveta. I can't tell my husband that Sveta wanted this trip to be without him.

— —

The morning call came at half past seven, and half an hour later, Roman, grinning from ear to ear, waved at me from the back seat of the departing motorcycle.

I immediately sent Sveta an SMS: "I just got left alone in Anapa without my husband, who traded me for hang gliders today." Sveta called me back right away: "Well, then just put him out of your head for today. We won't let you get bored. But it's better to go earlier, before the sun gets too hot. I can even drive to your house. Even in 15 minutes." And that's what we agreed on...

In the car that pulled up, sitting next to Sveta was a slender girl with sharp facial features, beautiful gray eyes, and a boyish haircut. Sveta introduced us. Her friend's name was Kristina.

"Do you want to sit in the front seat or the back?" Sveta asked me.

"Since I'm a scaredy-cat, better in the back," I replied.

"Well then, let's go with a tailwind."

The farther we got from the city, the higher the surrounding hills became. The road climbed up a pass, then descended into a valley. We passed a white stele with a bronze eagle and the inscription "Beginning of the Caucasus Mountains." Sveta explained:

The highway made a final turn and began descending to the sea. The last half-kilometer of the roadside was lined with cars. Sveta barely found a free parking spot. We continued on foot and came out onto a pebble beach. The sea was clearly cleaner than in Anapa. The water was so transparent that you could see all the pebbles on the bottom for about ten meters.

"I already like it here," I said.

"If you think we're stopping here, you're mistaken—this is still just the civilized beach. We need to go to the reserve—that's another two kilometers by boat," Sveta pointed with her hand.

The boats were already waiting for us in the surf line. Sveta handed money to the boat owner: "To the first lagoon." After picking up passengers, the boat moved away from the shore and began to pick up speed, sometimes bouncing slightly on the waves and splashing the rear passengers. We sailed along the shore past stunningly beautiful steep rocky cliffs. Sveta shouted in my ear over the engine noise: "According to local legends, it was here that Zeus chained Prometheus to the rocks for giving fire to humans. On these cliffs grows the burning bush, which bursts into flame but remains whole and unharmed." Finally, the boat turned towards the shore. "See that spot by the cliff where people are standing? That's the Pearl Waterfall—they get fresh water there and take showers," Sveta explained. I stepped ashore and looked around. By the standards of Anapa's city beach, there were very few sunbathers on the shore, and tents were visible among the coastal trees.

Sveta continued the impromptu tour: "Actually, the first lagoon, including the waterfall, is a protected area guarded by rangers. Theoretically, you're not supposed to relax here, but as you can see—people have adapted, and so have the rangers. And now we'll go through the forest to the second lagoon. By the shore, of course, would be shorter. But it's inconvenient in places because of the large rocks."

The three of us went deeper into the forest along a path. The air around was somewhat intoxicating, which I mentioned to Sveta. To which she replied:

"This isn't just any forest—it's a relict juniper forest. They say one tree here is over fifteen hundred years old. It's called 'Lotus' because of its three intricately intertwined trunks, and local yogis meditate around it. And the juniper constantly releases aromatic oil into the air, which is deadly to all microbes. So, it's very healthy to breathe this air, and no one gets sick here. Juniper on Utrish is considered a sacred tree—if someone picks a juniper branch, they'll be kicked out of here forever. The same goes for those who leave behind a cigarette butt or household trash."

We reached a sign on a wooden board: "Leave your clothes, all who enter here!" For emphasis, someone's bra was fluttering on a pole nearby.

"What's this?" I was bewildered.

"Don't pay attention, it's local folklore—further on are the nudist beaches," Kristina answered me calmly.

Indeed, the path turned, and we saw a naked girl and guy coming out of the water. Farther away, a few more couples were visible. Though some of them were dressed. While I was looking around, Sveta and Kristina calmly took off all their clothes and looked at me. My heart began to beat with excitement.

"Do I need to undress too?"

"As you wish—undressing isn't mandatory. On Utrish, everyone chooses for themselves—to undress or not. This is Utrish—the kingdom of free choice. And you're completely safe here. No one will hurt you. This is Utrish—a territory of love and brotherhood among sunbathers. It's like on Noah's Ark, a pair of every subcultural creature: hippies, yoga enthusiasts, sectarians, pagan sun-worshippers, rocker bikers, and