Twisted (9 page)

Lena and I nod, raising our eyebrows in surprise while ravenously chewing another piece of juicy sushi.

‘Nothing wrong with that, Nata. It’s called love! When two halves that are meant to be together, meet each other!’ exclaims my middle sister, and my eyebrows rise even higher. ‘I wonder what your children would look like … they say that mixed-race kids are very beautiful!’

Natalia starts choking, from the wasabi or most probably from what she’d heard. ‘Bite your tongue, Lena! It amazes me how quickly you turn everything into a serious relationship!’

‘Okay. I agree. I may be a bit too much of a romantic person. But you cannot deny the fact that that’s a woman’s purpose – to reproduce and continue the human race. And for that she needs to find a good man, marry him and give him beautiful children …’

‘Yeah, right! Stay at home, cook, clean up and wash his socks while he is fucking around with other women like us. How many of the men who come to the clubs are married? Your concept of life is a bit out of date, my dear sister. You’ve got to wake up. A woman is not a thing that has a purpose! She, like any other creature on this planet, is born to enjoy life, to be free and happy. People like you also think that a cow has a purpose of supplying humankind with milk for as long as it lives. You are wrong! They are only supposed to produce milk to feed their babies, like any other mother does, including humans. Things like coffee machines and hairdryers have a purpose. The first makes coffee, the second helps to keep you prettier. But don’t tell me that I was born with the purpose of getting married and becoming a baby-making machine!’

I stop eating and look at Natalia. Cows? Machines? Did I miss something? How did we get here?

The deeper my sister gets into the philosophy of life, the more emotional she becomes. Her sparkly eyes stand out starkly against her reddened face, and her intense gesticulations bring a lot of passion into her speech.

Lena is looking down into her plate. I can see the shade of regret of starting this conversation on her face. It’s time for me to break into my sisters’ discussion. I really don’t feel like listening to the theory of why we come into this world for the rest of the lunch, and throw in the first thing that comes to my mind.

‘And how big is his penis, Nata? I’ve heard black guys have huge …’ I say, with my mouth full of rice and fish.

Without even changing her pontifical tone, my elder sister jumps straight from women’s predestination to the sizes of men’s genitals.

‘It’s definitely bigger than normal … at least of all the ones I’d seen so far.’ She looks at me, smiles and adds, softening her voice, ‘You want to change the subject, Jul? Fine! But I don’t want to talk about Carlos either – too much attention for just a fuck buddy. How is it going with Michel, Lena?’

‘Oh, it’s going great! He sent me a huge bunch of roses the other day, without any particular reason – how romantic is that? And he is taking me out for dinner to a very fancy restaurant tonight!’ She is radiant with happiness. ‘He is young and handsome with a good job; he treats me well. And on top of that, he told me that he loves children. I think he is The One for me …’

‘Here we go again …’ sighs Natalia. ‘The fact that he loves children doesn’t mean that he wants to have them, and especially, it doesn’t mean that he wants to have them with you.’ She starts getting agitated again. ‘And I’m not saying it to upset you, Len. I just don’t want you to amplify Michel’s words with your imagination or fantasy. What I mean is, try to see the direct meaning of the words without adding anything to them. It will prevent you from being hurt in life. The problem with most women, including you, is that you draw your perfect picture, meet a man and then, by putting your meaning into his words, try to fit him into your picture, which usually makes your life more complicated. And even if he did say that he wanted to have children with you, it wouldn’t necessarily mean that he meant it, which brings us to another conclusion – don’t listen to his words. Look at his actions. The two unfortunately don’t always match.’

I nod. Even though it’s not pleasant to watch Lena’s happy face turn sour, I add, ‘Natalia has a point.’

But Lena doesn’t want to give up and exclaims to Natalia, ‘You are such a cynic! You cannot assume that all people around you are motivated by selfishness. We must think that all people are good unless proven otherwise.’

It is funny, but I nod again. I hold myself back from saying that Lena has a point too. I decide to stay out of it; it doesn’t look like I am going to help to stop the argument, anyway.

To my surprise, Natalia just smiles and very calmly replies, ‘I am a realist, Lena, A
¹¹
’.

Natalia had done this so many times before – tried to change Lena’s way of seeing things in life – but it had never really worked and, as all three of us know, is not going to work this time either.

‘Anyway, I am very glad that it’s going well with you two, Lena. Just please try to take it easy this time …’

‘I’ll do my best, I promise!’ smiles Lena and winks at us. ‘Now it’s your turn, Jul. What’s new in your life since I last saw you?’

‘Nothing much, if we’re talking about my private life,’ I answer after a short pause. ‘Thanks to you, Nata, I’m so busy with the day shift freaks in the club that I don’t have any desire to see them in my free time … unless I’m getting paid for it, of course.’

I take a long, deep drag of my cigarette, and watch the smoke I slowly blow out of my mouth. ‘One thing I know for sure is that when I leave this place, there are going to be two things I’ll never be able to enjoy ever again – men and champagne. I swear, if I ever had to meet the motherfucker who invented this whole getting-paid-for-drinking system, I would punch him in his face. Last night I had to carry Monica upstairs again! Can you believe it? Loaded, she passed out right on the client! They must either put in an elevator or get a bouncer to carry the drunken bitches upstairs. I’m sick and tired of it!’

The rest of our Sunday meeting we spend chatting about how sick and toxic the club system is. It is normal at the end of a night for some girls to be unable to walk up the stairs without help. But the problem isn’t the absence of the lift or the bouncer, and we all know that. The problem is that nobody in the club – owner, manager, barman or clients – cares about the girls’ health. They would watch you drink yourself to death, as long as they make their profit and have fun.

Champagne bar? Champagne slaughterhouse, more like it.

After lunch with my sisters, I go to a nightclub. As always on Sundays, the crowd consists mainly of my colleagues. All cabarets are closed on the holy day, and it is the only night for the girls to party.

There are also a lot of clients in the crowd. Mostly jerks and assholes. The ones that never spend money on champagne during our working hours, brushing us off with ‘not today … I am so tired … maybe next time’ bullshit. However, when the acquaintance with the girl ‘accidentally’ takes place outside of the cabaret, they turn into pesky mosquitos, that all of a sudden are full of enthusiasm, hoping to get the romance for free.

God! I hate these cheap bastards!

Even though the DJ is rocking it and I’ve had a good amount of tequila and coke, I can’t get into a clubbing mood. Every now and then one of these insects comes close with a stupid ‘What is your name?’ or ‘Where are you from?’, dragging me out of my flying-high-with-the-music state. I boldly put an irritated expression on my face, turn away and continue dancing. I don’t even bother to respond.

I go back to the bar, order tequila, and start raiding my purse for money.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get it.’

I look up. He is tall, handsome, in his mid-thirties. His perfect grey suit accentuates his macho body type. And I don’t remember seeing him before. Most likely he is not one of the regulars of our ‘establishments’; at least he’s missing that degenerate look in his eyes …

… Oh my fuck … his charming blue eyes … hmm …

He signals to the barman, who without delay starts carrying out the silent order. Then he turns back to me with a naughty smile, ‘I have an indecent proposal for you …’

I lift my eyebrows – that is an unusual pick-up line. He’s got my full attention.

‘I am here with my girlfriend,’ he nods towards the VIP section. ‘She finds you very attractive,’ and after a quick pause with a charming twinkle, ‘and so do I, of course … Sometimes we like to have a little bit of fun, and tonight, we would love you to join us …’

‘I don’t do girls,’ I throw, turn to the bar counter, and pointedly pay for my drink.

He bursts into laughter and steps close to me, giving me no other choice but to shift back and face him. He is so close that our lips almost touch and I sense the strength of his body. The wave of tempting lust surprisingly drinks me in.

Hmmm … those blue eyes …

‘Let’s have some fun … I am sure you wouldn’t mind doing me, would you?’ His body language screams arrogant confidence but his face is full of genuine excitement.

The barman puts a bottle of Dom Perignon and two glasses in front of him. ‘Anything else, Mr. Harvey?’ Without taking his naughty look off me, he replies, ‘Bring me a third glass. This pretty lady is going to join us.’

Hmmm … Harvey? You’ve got it all … including your bloody girlfriend …

She is a beautiful, well-groomed, young and extremely sweet girl. ‘Hi, my name is Katherine,’ she greets, as if we had been best friends all our lives.

The night is flowing fabulously. We drink, sniff, dance and laugh like crazy.

Then, my new friends suggest that I continue the party in their suite. They are staying in some luxury boutique hotel, five minutes away from the disco club. I seriously doubt the proposal, but their story about the generous mountain of coke they left in the room doesn’t really leave me a choice.

As we walk in, Harvey heads straight to the coffee table, elegantly drops onto the chair and picks up the phone.

‘Bring us two bottles of Cristal and ice please.
Merci
.’

He hangs up and lights a cigarette.

Katherine playfully grins, ‘Let’s blow his mind away …’ and pulls me into the bathroom.

It’s a spacious, white marble room with two basins, a huge shower and a stunning free-standing tub. She switches on the water in the shower, intriguingly smiles and presses the button next to the light switch. A white blind starts rising, surprisingly unveiling the show window, which is the wall between the bedroom and the bathroom.

Oh wow … he is going to watch us doing it … this is mind-blowing!

Katherine quickly drops her clothes onto the floor, steps under the stream and playfully beckons to me. I follow her steps. We soap each other and kiss while slowly rubbing with white foam every part of our bodies. Her knowing hands are playing with my clit. The hot flow pleasantly strikes my neck and shoulders, while she sucks and bites my nipples.

She is good … it’s all so unexpectedly good …

She turns me around, puts both of my hands on the glass and starts fingering my pussy from behind. Her other hand wanders between my neck and my breasts. I roll my eyes in pre-orgasmic rapture and don’t even notice that the room service guy is here.

The young man hurriedly places the cart-table and the shiny ice bucket with two golden necks sticking out of it, opens one of the bottles, gets Harvey to sign a check and leaves the room while demonstratively looking away from the window. But I don’t care … neither does Katherine … she doesn’t stop until I come …

… I open my eyes. I am in my bed.

I have a horrible hangover and cannot really understand if last night was a drunken dream or a stoned reality.

I reach to my side table to get some aspirin and bump my purse. I open it and find €1,000 and a note:

I took the liberty and hope I didn’t offend you. You were so pleasant and tasty
. I just wanted to show my appreciation and this is the best way I know … Thank you, Julia.