stroboscope was spurting flashes of light. Six different-colored spotlights were moving and painting pictures on the opposite wall. There was a smoke machine on the floor, and gigantic speakers in the corners of the room ensured that everything vibrated. Two flat-screen TVs that were set up on top of the speakers were projecting video installations by the artist Ernst Billgren.
JW got it confirmed once again: People with money party better.
He was dancing wildly with some twenty-year-old silicone celeb from the Paradise Hotel when he saw the closed door from the living room. There was another bouncer positioned in front of the door. Older, subtler, slicker, with his hair gelled back. The revealing factor once again: his clothes. Black turtleneck, dark jeans, and a thin leather jacket-indoors. JW recognized him. He was the head bouncer from Stureplan’s biggest security guard company, Tom Schultzenberg.
He thought, That’s gotta be it.
The bouncer checked JW’s name off the list. He slid in.
He found himself in Jet Set Carl’s bedroom, remade as a Lebanese cafe-super- prive. The bed’d been carried out; in its place were brass hookahs filled with fruit-flavored tobacco on the floor. Purple-and-red fabrics hung on the walls. A thick carpet and tasseled pillows with gold embroidery swallowed the sound in the room. Still, an amped aura: elated, active, sexy. JW clocked right away. In the middle of the room was a glass-topped table. In the middle of the table was a pile of snow.
Magnificent.
Six people were sitting on pillows around the table. Two of them were snorting lines. Two others were preparing theirs. All the people in the room were sniffling, wiping powder with the backs of their hands, sneezing, and babbling about the glory of existence.
JW regarded his work, his delivery. VIP room without borders. What an event, what class.
He sat down on a red pillow. Reached for a razor blade and started to cut a line. A girl across from him was staring him down, sucking him off with her eyes. JW smiled back, snorted the cocaine. The straw was made of glass.
Four hours later. JW was a little too sweaty for comfort. He’d danced, mingled, tried to make out with the girl from the cocaine room in front of Sophie. She kept up her don’t-give-a-shit act. They’d talked for a total of only seventeen minutes. He pulled out all the charm cards he had in his deck. Thought, If I can’t get her tonight, I’ll never fucking get her. He chatted with Jet Set Carl, his friends Fredrik and Nippe, snorted with them, snorted with the silicone bimbo from the Paradise Hotel. Chatted with celebs and silver-spoon babies. He sold himself in.
JW’s message was simple: I’m hot as hell and I’m your local cocaine dealer. Buy from me.
He didn’t see her coming. Suddenly, Sophie was there, took his hand, looked at him. This time, she wanted something more than to chat. He could feel it.
JW was already on a rush. He couldn’t distinguish between the heat in his pants, the heat in his nose, and the heat in his heart. They pushed their way through the party people. It was four o’clock and the party’d peaked. It was still crowded, but not as crowded as before. JW found his jacket on the floor of the foyer. Sophie’s was dangling on a hanger. They pushed the button for the elevator. Giggled together. JW squeezed Sophie’s hand. Still no other bodily contact. In the midst of the spell he was under, JW felt unease. Was it really all set?
On the way down, Sophie said, “What happens now?”
JW looked at her. Grinned. Pulled a cliche. “Can I come up for a cup of tea?”
She smiled. JW got even more nervous, tried not to let it show.
Out on the street, they could hear the music from the party pounding several stories up.
JW said, “Weird that no one’s complaining. Did Carl put the entire neighborhood up at the Grand?”
Sophie, with a Mona Lisa smile: “Maybe they like the music?”
They started walking. JW was unsure of the direction. He thought, Is she playing with me? Is it a joke? She’d done a 180-first ignoring him, as if he were no better than chopped liver, and now taking him home with her.
After a while, she stopped. Looked like she was about to say something. JW’s heart skipped a beat. “Of course we should go to my place for a cup of tea.”
Was happiness on the horizon?
They kept walking along Linnegatan, past 7-Eleven. At least ten people from Carl’s party were stuffing their faces with hot dogs inside the store. JW didn’t have the energy to say hi; he didn’t want to let anything break the mood.
He and Sophie were quiet, which was unusual for both of them. They just kept walking toward Sophie’s place.
They arrived at her apartment on Grev Turegatan-a small studio, 380 square feet. She went into the kitchen. JW, clueless. Was she really going to make tea? He wanted to caress her, kiss her, and hug her, just lie and talk all night with her. At the same time, he wanted to have sex with her more than ever.
The coke kick was wearing off. He got an idea. Went into the bathroom and turned on the tap. Created white noise. He pulled his cock out and began to masturbate. The inspiration came from the movie There’s Something About Mary. He thought of Sophie naked. He came after two minutes. He was pleased with the security measure-if he was to make it with Sophie, he’d be able to marathon it.
He unlocked the door and walked out.
Sophie was standing by the edge of the bed. Her top’d slid down over one shoulder. Was it a hint?
She looked him in the eyes as though she were saying, What are you waiting for?
He took two steps forward, ended up a few inches from her face. Waited for a reaction from her. Shit, he was such a pussy. Not even now, with all the vibes she was sending out, did he dare make the first move. He was too scared, too nervous. Didn’t want to make a fool of himself and burn his bridges with her. Miss future opportunities. Sophie took a tiny step closer. The tips of their noses touched. He hoped she didn’t suspect what he was feeling-his heart was pumping 230 bpm.
She kissed him. Finally.
He was flying. Soaring.
JW put his arms around her. Kissed her back. No one had ever tasted so good: smoke, alcohol, and Sophie smell. They ended up on the bed. He took her top off, carefully. Cupped her breasts over her bra. She licked his neck.
JW put his hand on top of her pants, over her butt. Began to kiss her neck, breasts, and belly. He unbuttoned her tight jeans and pulled them off. Kissed the inside of her thighs. She made sounds. JW was dying to put his cock in her, but at the same time he wanted to wait. Sophie started to take her thong off herself. Straight shot, Sophie- style. He continued to kiss around her pussy while he caressed her left breast. Carefully pinched her nipple.
He asked, “May I have a taste?”
Sophie mmmm’ed in response. He licked carefully around her labia. After a while, he let his tongue slip in and slowly swirl around. First around and around, then up and down. He could hardly believe it. He was making her feel good. He was making Sophie whimper.
Sophie pulled him up and pressed him down on his back against the bed. Took off his shirt. Pulled off his pants. Took his cock in her mouth. Sucked him in rapid mouthfuls. He looked down cautiously and saved the image in his mental hard drive-him and Sophie.
JW got up. He was scared he might come. She kept his cock in her hand. Reached over toward the nightstand. Looked for something. He wanted in and didn’t get what she was up to. She leaned back. Then she opened a condom wrapper.
JW, filled with angst-he hated condoms.
He asked, “Do we have to use that?”
“Don’t kid, JW. Of course we do.”
He regretted having said anything. Had to try. She rolled it onto his cock and pulled him down toward her. Right before she guided him in, he went soft. He tried to laugh it off. She looked questioningly at him. JW sighed. Lay down on his back.
Sophie asked, “You and condoms are not a good combo, or what?”
“Damn, Sophie. I’m so happy.” Almost told her this was the happiest day in his life but then shut it; he’d already said too much. Unnecessary to open up more, even though she was the most wonderful thing in the world.
“Don’t know what the deal is. I just don’t work too great with rubber is all.”
