'Hi Mom, everything's all right, I'm back from Milan and back to work. The Fashion Week was fun, you should attend one someday. My girlfriend was modeling there too, and I swear, she was the prettiest among all of them! Actually, it was the first time I saw her working, and if I was her employer, I would double or even triple her wage: you can't imagine how much applause she got, and how much attention from public and couturiers as well. They certainly approached her to offer a job, but she's reluctant to talk about it and she's gonna stay in London for a while. Hope, one of her reasons is me... Well Mom, I'm in hurry as usual, kiss you and Dad, yours R.'

It was in Milan that he saw her wearing heels for the very first time. He nearly fainted when she came out on podium on one of highest spikes he'd ever seen, putting other models into hopeless shadow, towering over even tallest of them by at least two feet. Their pretty faces were as high as her midriff, and their shoulders only made it up to her pubic area.

She was drop-dead gorgeous in a very short snow-white wedding dress that covered only her torso and hips. Her splendid bosom was half-visible through light white lace with big pink rose on her left breast, and her micro-mini revealed the full length of her legs enveloped in pink stockings, and each of them was long enough to wrap a shorter man or woman from top to toe. Those incredibly long, slender and toned legs of hers that began at the level of all other models' chests, ended in shiny white shoes with spiked heels at least seven or eight inches high. Yet they didn't seem somewhat exaggerated in conjunction with the whole excitingly feminine frame of more than immense height.

Robin couldn't help but stared at his lover as if he saw her for the first time. The most thrilling sight was when the show finished, and the couturier came out to the podium. It was a prominent Russian designer called Valery Yudashin; he was handsome, but unbelievably short, only up to the girls' breasts or shoulders. They smiled and laughed enjoying success, and he walked all the way along a row of models, embracing theirs waists, and they bent down to give him a kiss and whisper something into his ear.

As he reached Breta, he stopped with an expression of perplexity on his face that was right next to her upper thighs. He kissed on of her legs that looked incomparably sexy in pink stockings; the edge of her skirt touched his head, then he tilted his neck vertically up and raised both his arms towards her. Breta giggled and folded down. Now, with her knees touching the floor, and her bottom resting on her heels, she hugged Valery, and he, rising on his tiptoes, finally managed to kiss her in the cheek.

'I'm sure, tomorrow we'll see this picture in papers all across Europe,' he said to the audience as Breta easily stood up again holding his hand in hers. This way - with his left arm stretching up to the limit, and her body slightly bending in the waist to let her lower her hand low enough for him - they left the podium accompanied by storm of applause.