<![CDATA[Juicer Susi - Блог]]>Fri, 25 Dec 2015 08:41:50 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[For leather seats - enclosed by a glass]]>Mon, 21 Dec 2015 20:51:38 GMThttp://jucysuci.weebly.com/1041108310861075/for-leather-seats-enclosed-by-a-glassFor leather seats - enclosed by a glass wall spacious meeting room with a long table in dark wood, and at least twenty such as chairs on the sides. Behind them the window in the wall, from which the panorama of Seattle to the Bay. Kind of amazing, and I froze for a moment, fascinated. Great! Sitting on a chair, pulled out a question and to view them again, mentally cursing Kate, because she did not give me at least a brief biography of Mr. Gray. I did not know anything about a man who was going to interview. He can equally well be thirty and ninety. Uncertainty terribly annoying, and the excitement I start to fidget in his chair. I never liked to interview face to face. Where better anonymity press conferences, where you can sit quietly in the back row. If you absolutely honest, I prefer to curl up in a chair and reading to delve into classic British novel, not sit, exhausted from the excitement in huge halls transparent. I mentally roll my eyes. Pull yourself together, Steele. Judging by the sterile cleanliness and modern buildings, Mr. Gray should be fortysomething: taut, tanned and blond - to match their employees. Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blond comes out of a large door on the right. I wonder if they're all like this? Just like in Stepford. Taking a deep breath, I get up. - Miss Steele? - Asks the last blonde. - Yes - I have a husky and clear my throat. - Yes. - Now get a little confidence.
<![CDATA[I'm disgusted look at his reflection in the mirror]]>Mon, 21 Dec 2015 20:50:24 GMThttp://jucysuci.weebly.com/1041108310861075/im-disgusted-look-at-his-reflection-in-the-mirrorI'm disgusted look at his reflection in the mirror. Well, why do I have such hair - they stick out in all directions! And why Katherine Kavanagh has managed to be ill, and I suffer! .. Now, instead of preparing for final exams, to which only a little less than a week, I try to somehow smooth the unruly curls. "You can not go to bed with wet hair, you can not go to bed with a wet head" - repeating this mantra several times again, I'm trying to bring their lohmy in order and roll my eyes in exhaustion. From the mirror looks at me pale girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes that are too large for her face. The only option - to pull everything into a ponytail at the back: so though the form is decent.

Kate - my roommate. And just the day when she is scheduled for an interview with the student newspaper with some captains of industry, of which I had never heard, she came down with the flu. Therefore, I have to go. And I've got on the nose exams, unfinished work, and tonight I had to work, but instead go for one hundred sixty-five miles in downtown Seattle to meet with the CEO of the holding "Gray Enterprises." Mysterious Mr. Gray, a prominent businessman and a major sponsor of the University, a person whose time is extremely valuable - much more precious than mine - agreed to give an interview to Kate. Incredible luck, she said. Damn her social activities!

Kate settled on the couch in the living room.

- Ana, do not be angry! I'm nine months trying to persuade him to give an interview. And another six months will ask for the postponement. By the time we both graduated from the university. As an editor, I can not miss such a chance. Oh please!

Kate begs me hoarse, hoarse voice. As it is obtained? Even sick she is beautiful, like an elf: golden-red hair are hair to hair and green eyes, red-rimmed and watery, still shine.

- Of course I'll go, Kate. Go lie down. You buy naykvil? Or Tylenol?

- Naykvil, please. Do not forget to take my questions and a portable recorder. You just have to click on a record. I then decipher.

- I did nothing about it I do not know - I mutter, trying to suppress a panic attack.

- Do you have questions ready - that's half the battle. Go, and you'll be late. Go away.

- All right, go. Go to bed. I cooked your soup, heat later.

I look at her with tenderness. "Only for you, Kate."

- Good. Good luck. Thank you, Ana, you, as always, my savior.

I am a crooked smile, and took the bag, go out to the car. I can not believe that I let myself be persuaded. However, Kate uboltayet anyone. She'll make an excellent journalist. To this end, it has all the data: clear the mind, the will, the pressure, the ability to persuade. And besides, she's just beautiful and my most-loved friend.

Early in the morning I leave from Vancouver, Washington, on the I-5 highway. Cars on the road is a little more, and in Seattle I have to be only two. Luckily, Kate lent me his sports "Mercedes SLK». Hardly Vanda - my old "Volkswagen Beetle" - would be able to overcome this distance in such a short time. On "Merce" pleasant ride, I squeeze the gas to failure, and the miles fly by, one after another.

I'm going to the headquarters of the global empire of Mr. Gray. It is a twenty huge office building intricately curved glass and metal - utilitarian fantasy architect. Above the glass entrance doors discreet lettering steel letters - "Grey House". At a quarter to two - thankfully not too late! - I enter the huge, frankly awesome hall, decorated with white sandstone.

From the table to me affably smiling attractive blonde groomed. In her stunning gray jacket with a white blouse. It looks perfectly.

- I have an appointment with Mr. Gray. Anastacia Steele Katherine Kavanagh instead.

- Just a minute, Miss Steele. - Blond little arches an eyebrow.

I'm standing in front of her terrible embarrassment and regret not lent Kate jacket and showed up here in the blue jacket. I put my only skirt, brown boots and blue knee-length cardigan. By my standards, it is very elegant. Dressed with a stray lock of hair behind her ear and pretend I did not scary.

- Miss Kavanagh appointment. Please sign here, Miss Steele. Last lift on the right side, the twentieth floor.

Blonde kindly smiling, looking as I am signing: it seems it is ridiculous.

She holds out a pass, which is in large letters "visitor." I can not help the stupid grin. Of course, I have written on my forehead, I'm just a visitor. So there is no place. "And there is nothing new," - I sigh to myself. Thanking, go to the elevators past the two guards, dressed in black, perfectly sewed costumes. They look much more elegant than I am.

Lift with deadly speed lifts me on the twentieth floor. Doors swing open automatically, and I am in another large hall - again, glass, steel and white sandstone. In front of me is still one table and another blonde in a black business suit and white blouse, which saw me and gets up.

- Miss Steele, could you wait here? - It points to a series of chairs covered with white leather.]]>