Anita

When I was beginning my sports career at my freshly inaugurated sports club, in addition to my section there were also three others: swimming, gymnastics and basketball. To the gymnastics section Anita once belonged. 

When she began, she was a beautiful fifteen year old girl. A beautiful, innocent face with blue eyes, a light blonde, a girlish figure that was just coming into bloom. For years she trained very diligently. She came for training three times a week, often brought by her mom or dad. Quickly she began to make appearances and take impressive places in numerous local competitions and contests. 

Unfortunately time passed and with Anita things began to get ever worse, but at the same time in a way ever better. It was widely known that professional gymnasts were primarily short legged, short necked shorties, and that girls of just such build had the best chance of success in this sport. 

Unfortunately, Anita was developing physically into a living example of just the opposite of the racial cut of a gymnast. She grew out in height, had long beautiful legs, a long neck; she suddenly acquired a large beautiful bust and a sweet round little butt. She very much loved this gymnastics of hers, which is why for a long time she did not want to drop it, but when she finally came to the conclusion that in this sport she did not have any chance anymore, to kill the horrible stress caused by a lack of fulfillment in the sport she simply began to sleep around, to give ass. 

Almost everyone had their turn with her, and because despite her young age she did this with great class and culture, everyone adored and respected her. The sports administration really wanted to help Anita. They proposed another division for her and she was sent to various camps. 

But she no longer had the kind of fire for sports that she had had before. Interested in her became a certain Nowobogacky. 

By trade he was a shoemaker, but the repair of dirty, old worn out shoes long ago stopped being interesting for him. He decided to move to mass production. The situation in the shoe market was beyond the pale: in the post-war era there were no imports, no good raw materials, scant contraband from Czechoslovakia. Just absolute shit.

The country had more important things to worry about than fashionable shoes, and considering the ideological circumstances, the best thing would be to follow the Soviet example, everyone goes in felt boots, and in the summer either barefoot or in tennis shoes. For beautiful and fashionable shoes chic girls resorted to paying extravagant amounts, and even to paying with their bodies.

Nowobogacky circled a bit around the sports and probably had his eye on Anita for a long time. He had divorced his old wife and in a short time married the unfortunate gymnast. Their wedding was the biggest sports happening of the year.

Nowobogacky, almost twice as old as Anita, but half a head shorter, dressed with effortless elegance, somewhere just between the elegance of Al Capone and the elegance of Jan Kiepura. Light, matching, pastel colors, the best felt hats, fur coats, bronzes, beiges, velour, signets, accessories. The best tailors in the far away capital sowed for him.

Even though they had been together for three years, the two had no children. In his last marriage Nowobogacky had time to make many of them and often, spurred by his ex, they came to his place of business to argue over money, which Nowobogacky never refused them.

The Nowobogackys always walked down the street slowly, with great self worth, and a feeling of big money radiated from them.

When they entered some night spot, the orchestra always, as if on command, interrupted whatever they were playing and began the refrain from the at the time popular idiotic song, whose words, if I remember, sounded like:

Oh cobbler don’t be stupid

Trying with your shoes to buy luck

Nowobogacky immediately threw the orchestra five hundred and gave them a signal to continue the interrupted piece. He knew well that Anita was his greatest luck.