For Saturday, they’d planned a little celebration: it was exactly three months since their acquaintance. He booked a table at a fine restaurant, and at 7 o'clock sharp stood on the porch of Breta's house. He pressed the button and, seeing a long, tall figure through the semi-transparent door, hid the bouquet behind his back, tilted his neck up, and closed his eyes, waiting for a sweet kiss that would inevitably follow.

The door opened, but instead of a kiss, he heard a voice:

“You must be Robin?”

He opened his eyes. In the doorframe, shining down at him, stood a blonde resembling Breta a lot, but slightly younger and without Breta's lovely bosom.

It was her little sister – he'd seen her photographs. But even without them, there couldn’t be any doubt: who else could be this beautiful blue-eyed blonde, towering head and shoulders above the door?

“And you must be Kristina? Nice to meet you at last. I didn't know you were coming.”

“Breta didn't also,” her English, though certainly not as good as her sister's, wasn't terribly bad either. She stepped aside invitingly. “Come in.”

He walked in, looking up at the childishly shy smile blossoming above.

“We find cheap tickets for the airplane on the internet and did a big surprise for Breta,” explained the girl. “Nick coming soon, but father stay at home: he busy on job. But mama is here.”

In the living room, a woman half-sat at the table. She gave him a big smile and stood up. She was in her forties, very good-looking – the same blonde hair and blue eyes, if only a little faded – yet, surprisingly, she wasn't that tall, only up to her younger daughter’s shoulders. Kristina said something in Swedish; he picked two words: “mamma” and “Robin” – and the woman extended her hand.

“Astrid.”

“Mamma don't know English,” said the girl.

He nodded, named himself, and grabbed her hand.

Now, as he stood right in front of her, he realized that his first impression was wrong. She was tall. Very tall, in fact, six feet seven or eight inches easily – he struggled not to stare directly at her breasts. The excuse for his first impression was right there, standing next to Astrid, towering over her. Besides, mum was obviously much smaller than Breta – and Robin’s judgment of what is tall and what is not was strongly biased because of his girlfriend's stature.

“Nice to meet you, Astrid. You know, it's exactly three months today that I've met your lovely daughter, and we are going to celebrate the anniversary. I’m pleased to ask you to join us.”

As Kristina translated his short speech, he thought that getting her to the restaurant might become an issue: she was a teenager, as far as he remembered. He asked her whether she thought it might become a problem – and received a good laugh instead of an answer.

“I went to bars when I was eleven years old,” she said proudly. “No drinks, I like dance. But don't say this to mamma.”

She was still giggling when Breta came in.

“Hello, my dear,” she automatically lowered herself to his level and kissed him. “Oh, thank you, what a wonderful bouquet! And I see, you’ve already met mum and Krista?”

“Yeah, and I invited them to join us, but don't you think Kristina is a bit too young for that?”

“No, she's a good girl and behaves. And if you're worried about her proof of age, I can assure you, she won't need it.” She stood next to the sister. “Look, she's only a shade shorter than I am, and I don't remember being asked for an ID in restaurants for ages.”

She was right – the top of Kristina's head came up to Breta's nose – and, all of a sudden, he thought that he was going to be the shortest one in the company. No, that wasn't entirely correct: he was going to be completely dwarfed by the three tall women! He found the idea amusing and tried to calculate their combined height – it must have been more than twenty-two feet. Four and a half times more than his own five-six! This is what diminutive really means, he grinned.

Black cabs – the London taxis – are famous for their spacious cabins that can be used by five adult people at a time, and very high roofs: the vehicles are built to accommodate ladies in extravagant headwear and gentlemen in top hats. But even the black cab happened to be rather crowded this time.

Half of the company – Astrid and Robin – made themselves comfortable on the folding seats at the wall separating passengers from the driver, while the two sisters sat in the back, tilting their torsos and not knowing where to put their endless legs. Robin stared at their knees, towering above his own by a good eight inches. The sight sent a sensation of irresistible desire along his whole body, but it wasn't the right place, so he started thinking about the cityscape rolling back behind the windows.

When they got out at the restaurant, the girls immediately straightened up to stretch their necks and spines – and one should have seen the doorkeeper’s face at that moment! He didn’t just look surprised or amazed, he was shocked to his socks. Robin didn't blame the man: he could only guess how cool he himself looked there from the side... A mushroom in a pine forest, he smirked.