Twisted (21 page)

Of course I took condoms to work. In Luxembourg we had the same instructions, and it turned out that the only way we could make money was by fucking. Who the hell knew that this time they actually meant it?! The man was furious and lectured me for an hour at least in his office, talking to me as if I was a soldier at fault in some field of operations. Anyway, it’s all good now
.

Okay, need to run – going shopping with Nata. Don’t be a stranger, Jul. Waiting for your letters
.

Love you lots …

xxx

A few more text messages from Ali and we’ve set a time and place. He insists on having dinner at his place, explaining that he is an excellent cook:

I am going to blow your mind with my signature three-cheese fondue, for which I have a perfect bottle of Bordeaux
x

I screw up my face, still feeling the heaviness in my head from last night, and text him back:

I have no doubt you will blow my mind, and trust me, the food is the last thing I am thinking about when I say that
x

The reminder of why my head is falling apart today nudges me to go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of cold beer. A few gulps and I don’t feel so shitty anymore – it is the best hair of the dog humanity has come up with yet.

I try to keep myself busy with cleaning and washing and deciding what to wear, but the day seems never-ending.

As I walk into Ali’s apartment building, the memories of last night strike me, removing a lot of the anticipation and excitement in which I’d spent the whole day. He fucked Inna on his perfectly white leather couch … and they both enjoyed it …

Shit … Maybe dinner in his apartment was not such a good idea …

The front door is open. Michael Jackson belting out the unmistakable Billie Jean on the stereo makes it impossible for me to announce my presence. I spot the romantic dinner set up for two on the kitchen bar counter. It looks sweet: candles in wine glasses instead of the usual holders, a bunch of fresh violets in a short whisky glass instead of a vase, plates and cutlery. The sight makes me smile and I toss all those creepy memories of the previous night as far away as I can.

I walk in further and see Ali at the stove. I can’t resist and start laughing. He is actually doing a little hip-hop dance while wearing an apron, mixing something very delicious in a saucepan and singing some of the lyrics badly, using a wooden spoon as a microphone.

‘I would never have thought that you’re a big fan of the King of Pop.’

He notices me, gives me his shy smile and turns the volume down.

‘You are early? For how long have you been standing here, watching me?’ He adds some playfully worried notes, ‘If you’ve seen me moonwalking, I’ll have to kill you.’ He quickly kisses me on the lips and goes back to the stove.

‘That was amusing. You shouldn’t have stopped,’ I tease and come closer to check what he’s cooking. ‘Smells delicious.’

‘Wait until you try it … another five minutes and we are all set.’

Ali pours me a glass of wine, cuts some French baguette into small cubes and puts the pot with melted cheese on a special tray with a few candles underneath it, right next to a bowl of Greek-style salad on the table.

‘Have you ever eaten fondue?’

I shake my head.

‘Oh, well, there is not just eating involved. We are going to play a little game at the same time.’ He smiles with such excitement, like a boy waiting at the Christmas tree knowing that in a few seconds he will be able to open his long-awaited presents.

I raise my eyebrows and smile back at him. ‘A game?’

Jesting, he continues, ‘The rules are simple, Victoria …’

‘Call me Julia, please. It’s my real name,’ I interrupt him. ‘Sorry, you were saying?’

‘Hmmm …’ Ali takes a sip from his glass, ‘Julia … so much better than Victoria.’ Then he smiles and adds a little bit more seriously, ‘Thanks for sharing that … it means a lot to me.’

‘My pleasure,’ I quickly answer while hungrily looking at the pot.

He starts laughing. ‘Shame, Julia, I didn’t know you were that hungry! Let’s start … I will explain how it works as we eat.’

He takes my fondue fork, pokes it into one of the bread cubes and dips it into the melted cheese. ‘You see? It is very easy. Try …’

I bite it off the fork. ‘Hmm … it is delicious! Hmmm … you are good …’

‘If you carry on making those noises, I can’t promise I will let you finish dinner, Julia.’

His voice makes my insides twist and I feel pleasant warmness down my belly.

Oh my fuck. He hasn’t even touched me and I am already horny as hell.

‘Hmm …’ I tease him again, ‘sounds promising. So, you wanted to tell me about the game?’

‘Mainly, there is one rule: while we eat, we must try not to lose our pieces of bread in the saucepan. Whoever drops the most will have to comply with all the wishes of the winner. In other words, the winner is going to be the master tonight.’

As he speaks there is so much badness in his eyes that I fidget on my stool, trying to calm my already-burning-with-desire vagina.

‘I am in. I’m liking this dinner more and more – tasty and fun!’ I say and let one piece of bread slip back into the pot straight away. ‘Oopsy!’ I put on my flirty-naughty face. ‘It looks like I will end up very hungry tonight …’

Time goes by; the evening is lively and tasty. After dinner, Ali suggests we move to the couch with the wine to have some dessert. He points at the silver tray with its coke that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

It can’t get better than this … seriously!

The rest of the night we spend sniffing and fucking like crazy all over the place: on the tables, on the floor, against the walls and in the shower. We get to bed only at sunrise, with the first call to prayer.

As we lie spooning, exhausted and half asleep, Ali plays with a lock of my hair and gently bites my shoulder.

‘You know, I am not a big fan of relationships and commitment, but the honesty and courage in your eyes when you threw the money at me last night shook me somehow. I thought about you all night. Really, I couldn’t sleep.’ I hear the confusion in his voice.

‘Yeah, I was stupid to do that,’ I say and yawn at the same time.

I hear him smile. ‘Okay, it was a little stupid, but there was so much bluntness in your act as well. Trust me, Julia, not many people are capable of that.’

‘Uh huh.’ I’m struggling to keep up, and fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up alone in the bed; the place is quiet. I check the time. It’s 10 a.m. – Ali is probably at his lectures already. Wow. What a night – it was supernatural …

The swelling and slight discomfort in my pussy is the sweetest evidence that last night was not just a dream.

I jump into the shower, dress and go to the kitchen to make some coffee, while thoughtlessly singing ‘I can’t help falling in love’ by UB40.

I find a note and two hundred-dollar bills on the kitchen table, next to the violets:

‘It was a wonderful night. Thanks. Hope to see you soon … A.’

I smile, feeling fluttering butterflies in my chest, finish my coffee and leave without touching the money.

The next couple of weeks are really exhausting. I am fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about him. When I sleep, I dream about him. When I am awake, everything around me reminds me of him, and that eats up all of my consciousness. When other men touch me, I experience an almost physical pain and I want to cry, because I wish they were him.

Even my body is in bad condition.

While Alexandra keeps me busy, giving me two or three jobs a day, I drown myself in gallons of liquor and mountains of coke to make the hours when I am consumed by other men go faster and less painfully. Keeping my head as misty as possible helps, but at the same time, my body is struggling to handle all the crap I take in to reach that state.

On the rare occasions when Ali has a break in his studies, I come up with another lie for Alexandra about a painful period, headache or high blood pressure, and we can spend another perfect night together. And still, I take in a lot of blow, because Ali likes to relax and I just don’t know when to stop. As a result, I can hardly tell day from night. I often don’t remember who I fucked yesterday, and don’t really care who I’ll be with tomorrow. I am tired, very tired, and the only emotion I am capable of right now is hatred for Alexandra and all the I-hate-condoms-and-love-to-fuck-for-hours clients she sends me to. There are so many of them; the fucking never ends. But I don’t care … Ali … I wait for him to call me and tell me when we can meet again.

I don’t know where are we going with this relationship, if you could even call it that. Ali feeds me with some bullshit excuse that he cannot commit to anything until he finishes his studies. ‘It is something I promised to my parents and myself. Nothing will stop or distract me from getting a degree. First, a good job, then a family.’

Blah blah blah …

But I don’t really care, as long as he lets me be with him at least sometimes. I get through three, four or sometimes five, six days and as many as ten, 15 or even 20 dicks knowing that I will see him again. That is all that matters.

Although, apparently I don’t look okay anymore either, and get increasingly more comments from Inna about needing a rest. ‘You must take a day off, Jul. You look very tired,’ or ‘If you do call in sick, stay in bed, you need to catch up on some sleep.’

Yes, I am very tired, but why can’t you just shut up and mind your own business? I don’t need your concern. If I get a chance to see him, I will.

I even stopped answering Inna, to save some energy on arguments. Or, it could be that I just don’t care about anything but the following Friday. Ali told me he is going out with his friends for a boys’ night out, but that if I want I could join him afterwards at his place.

Friday. I will see him on Friday …

Hi my Poppy-seed,

How are you doing?

You wouldn’t believe what happened last night
!