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I more or less carry it off - and adjust my mental stereotype of a Muscovite moll.
Nastia tells me it's her particular ambition to get to know an Englishman and explains that she is turned on by "money and power". She would like to meet a "self-sufficient man which is engaged in favourite business". "But that's Lithuania," I say, exhibiting my GCSE geography. She tells me: "I think we met because of satellites hitting." She really must think I'm Mr Moneybags to be giving me this spiel.
She is stunningly beautiful, elegant, and with a figure that a movie star would die for. Sleek women of uncertain backgrounds dance round their handbags, and I can hear the murmur of Slavic accents. She's wearing something blue and filmy that shouts money. It's called Pangaea and it's popular with visiting Russians and the younger members of the Royal Family.