Numbly, Allison fastened and adjusted her bra, then tugged her sweater over her considerable bust. She was reaching for her jacket when Ulyana turned away from the filing cabinet and asked her to stay for dinner. Allison was on the verge of refusing the offer when she realized the best she could expect at home were instant noodles. Whatever was cooking in the kitchen smelt good. Plus, it would be a small concession for the hefty price tag of the custom garment. "Sure."
"Ah, very good. Food is almost ready."
Ulyana poured them each a generous glass of red wine and they settled in around the table. Soon Allison was savoring a traditional dish with slow cooked cabbage and root vegetables, simmered with tender pork. The flavor was subtle and earthy, hearty peasant fare perfect for the cold winter day.
At first, their conversation was dominated by Ulyana relating her long but fascinating life story. Gradually though, with a little push from the wine she was nursing, Allison began to volunteer details from her own life.
Ulyana proved to be a good listener, but she never failed to interject a story that put things in proper perspective when Allison strayed too far into self-pity. It was annoying. It was far more convenient to blame the crummy aspects of her life on her freakish bosom. It was embarrassing to be told how many of the roadblocks in front of her were illusions generated by her mind rather than her chest. Then again, it was refreshing to see rays of hope she never knew existed.
Their conversation was therapeutic, but Allison had work early tomorrow. She excused herself, donned her jacket and headed out the door. Ulyana halted her.
"Ah, one more thing. You will excuse old lady's forgetfulness I hope? Just here, sign, date. There, address for delivery." Ulyana pointed to a few lines on a sheet of paper and handed her a clipboard and pen.
Allison looked over the typewritten document but it was all a jumble of unfamiliar Cyrillic characters. "This is in Russian. Just what am I signing?"
"Paperwork. I need for my files. Includes details of order. Here it says bra completed in fourteen business days."
It seemed odd, but Allison was tired beyond caring. She signed, and with a friendly wave, walked off in the crisp night air towards her car.
"Ah, very good. Food is almost ready."
Ulyana poured them each a generous glass of red wine and they settled in around the table. Soon Allison was savoring a traditional dish with slow cooked cabbage and root vegetables, simmered with tender pork. The flavor was subtle and earthy, hearty peasant fare perfect for the cold winter day.
At first, their conversation was dominated by Ulyana relating her long but fascinating life story. Gradually though, with a little push from the wine she was nursing, Allison began to volunteer details from her own life.
Ulyana proved to be a good listener, but she never failed to interject a story that put things in proper perspective when Allison strayed too far into self-pity. It was annoying. It was far more convenient to blame the crummy aspects of her life on her freakish bosom. It was embarrassing to be told how many of the roadblocks in front of her were illusions generated by her mind rather than her chest. Then again, it was refreshing to see rays of hope she never knew existed.
Their conversation was therapeutic, but Allison had work early tomorrow. She excused herself, donned her jacket and headed out the door. Ulyana halted her.
"Ah, one more thing. You will excuse old lady's forgetfulness I hope? Just here, sign, date. There, address for delivery." Ulyana pointed to a few lines on a sheet of paper and handed her a clipboard and pen.
Allison looked over the typewritten document but it was all a jumble of unfamiliar Cyrillic characters. "This is in Russian. Just what am I signing?"
"Paperwork. I need for my files. Includes details of order. Here it says bra completed in fourteen business days."
It seemed odd, but Allison was tired beyond caring. She signed, and with a friendly wave, walked off in the crisp night air towards her car.