Pulling my jacket tight, I shuddered at the frigid evening wind that blew off the grey waters of the Oslofjord. It cut through the pink fabric like an icy blade. My footsteps echoed sharply off the derelict buildings crowding in around me. Their long shadows reached out across the tarmacked ground towards me like grabbing hands. Behind me, I could hear Lela’s voice calling to me from the doorway of the restaurant, frantic and desperate. But Lars had been right all along. She had Ingrid now; she didn’t need me. And if she wouldn’t help me, then I’d have to do this alone.
A gnawing ache rumbled in my stomach, and my lips quivered. The faint taste of blood hung on my tongue as my teeth bit down on the inside of my cheeks. If Lela didn’t want me anymore, then I would find someone who did.
Lela’s voice vanished as I ducked into one of the many narrow, dark alleyways that ran in and out of the old warehouses. It was replaced by a dull, rhythmic thump rolling from a converted warehouse at the end of the passage. Lights flashed in the two square windows at the front of the building. The reds, blues and whites glinted up harshly from the damp cobbles of the passage.
A sudden chill cascaded over my body, a chill that was nothing to do with the cold Norwegian air. My knees trembled, threatening to buckle under my weight. Visions flashed before my eyes — a window. Not the barred, flashing window of the club but a small window, set high in the wall, covered with an iron grate. A blood red light cast in through the dirty, cracked glass. The ground grew rough and cold beneath my feet.
No! That was the past! I needed to put the basement behind me. I needed to move forward, to take back the control that Lars had stolen. Tonight, that would be exactly what I would do.
I set my shoulders back stiffly and, lifting my chin, I walked forward with a purposeful stride.
The club was built from the same rough red brickwork and iron as all the old buildings in Aker Brygge. Above the closed steel door hung a glowing neon sign, spelling out the name, Verkstedet, in a cold blue glow.
The heavy door reverberated with a constant pulse that pounded on the other side. I heaved open the heavy door with a groan. Heavy techno beats struck my eardrums like a hammer blow. The cold strobe lighting slashed through the gloom with stuttering bursts. Pulling in a deep breath, I sucked in the acrid air, a heavy mixture of cigarette smoke and stale beer.
Boots clattering on the steel tread plating covering the floor, I stepped through the door. The ground shook with the manic rhythm of the music. My eyes scanned the cavernous interior. I ignored the crowded dance floor; I wouldn’t find what I was looking for there. Momentarily my eyes caught on the handful of tables and chairs where groups of friends and couples sat, hunched over their drinks in deep conversations. No, the bar would be where I’d find my target.
Built from iron girders and stainless-steel mesh, the bar cut a harsh diagonal across the opposite corner of the building. Busy bar staff rushed from customer to customer, handing out bottles and glasses.
Shouldering my way through the crowd, that was where I was headed.
“Give me a Ringnes.” I shouted to a tall, dark-haired barmaid.
Without a reply, she grabbed a gold can from under the bar and slammed it down in front of me. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a crumpled 50 krone note, which the barmaid snatched from my hand with neither a smile nor a thank you.
As soon as she had stuffed it into the cash till, she moved on to the next customer, a dark-haired man leaning over the bar waving a cigarette.
My eyes lingered on him, narrowing. His dark hair, neatly clipped and slicked back, caught the flashes of the strobe lights. A cloud of thick blue smoke twisted and swirled around him. His gaze tracked the barmaid, fixed on her black mesh top and the red bra straps, visible underneath.
She placed a singe shot glass in front of him. Just the one drink… he was alone.
Curling my fingers around the cold, condensation slick beer can, I hooked a nail under the ring pull. It opened it with a sharp click and hiss. I raised it to my lips. The cold, bitter liquid slid down my throat, washing away any lingering taste of the Chianti I had shared with Lela just a few minutes ago.
The man took a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the grey ash tip into the heavy green glass ashtray in front of him. I took in every detail of him, the muscle that twitched at the edge of his square jaw and the vulnerable slouched set of his shoulders. The sharp lines of the collar of his black Ben Sherman shirt and his neatly ironed trousers.
The muscles in my shoulders tensed as a smile crept across my face. My hand rose, brushing my vibrant pink fringe to the side.
I didn’t wait for him to notice me. I didn’t need to. I almost felt as if I hadn’t been away. I knew this routine well; I had perfected it at countless parties and clubs. I knew the exact tilt of the head, the slightest lick of the lips, those tiny hooks which would snare any man I chose to reel in.
The broken, beaten girl I had been was gone, I didn’t need her anymore. I was a lioness and tonight I was hunting. Seeking out the easy prey, a lone antelope separated from its herd.
Taking one final swig of beer, I set the can down on the bar top and stepped towards him, my hips swaying from side to side as I walked.
I slipped in beside him. With my elbows on the bar, I leant back languidly, my eyes fixed on his sharp, chiselled profile.
His shoulders twitched, his chest rising in a deep, unsteady breath. His vodka glass clicked on the bar as he fidgeted with it, turning it around and around in his hand. His gaze focused firmly on the glowing orange tip of his cigarette.
“All on your own tonight?” I said in a low voice.
I stared through heavy lids into his eyes as his head turned to look at me, eyes widening slightly in surprise, our gazes clashing. I noticed the slight lift of his brow, furrowing his forehead. The corner of his mouth twitched, uncertainty. My lips twisted into a thin smile.
“I was supposed to be meeting someone. But it doesn’t look like she’s coming.” He said simply, his gaze remaining fixed on the blue-grey whisp rising from his cigarette.
I slipped on the stool next to him, my thigh, the ripped denim of Lela’s jeans deliberately brushing the crisp pressed, black fabric of his trousers.
“Sounds like some trouble in paradise.” I said, reaching out and taking his cigarette from the ashtray. “Are you two serious?”
My gaze was locked onto him. Every twitch of his face, every shift of movement was magnified. I brought the cigarette to my lips, the paper rough on my skin. The acrid, suffocating smoke filled my mouth with its bitter, burning taste before clawing its way down my throat.
“Not really. I liked her, but we’ve only seen each other a couple of times”. He said, taking his eyes off the whisper of smoke and looking me in the eye.
My smile twisted, stretched thin. I had always found the jilted men to be the easiest marks.
“I’m Johannes.” He said, offering me a hand, which I ignored.
“Heidi.” I replied coolly, “I’ll have a beer.
Nodding, he waved to the mesh top wearing barmaid.
“Can I get a Ringnes, please?” He asked her.
“And a couple of shots of Viking Fjord,” I added, my voice cutting through the sharp snares of the drum and bass which shook the building with every thumping beat.
Flipping open his brown leather wallet, Johannes pulled out a crisp red hundred krone note and a green fifty and handed them across the bar.
Two shot glasses filled with a clear liquid landed in front of me along with another golden can.
Not waiting for a toast, I threw back the first vodka, the cold, burning liquid hitting the back of my throat. I quickly followed that with the second before opening the beer.
The world seemed to sway slightly as I looked back to Johannes, meeting his wide-eyed stare with a smile that never quite reached my eyes.
“Drink with me.” It wasn’t an invitation; it was a command.
****
The front door to Johannes’ flat slammed shut with a shuddering crash, which echoed loudly in the small entrance hall. The rough, brown carpeted floor shifted and tilted under my feet; the patterns on the green wallpaper swam in and out of focus.
“Do you want a drink?” I heard Johannes’ voice behind me.
My hands slammed into his shoulders as I rounded on him with a snarl, clawing at the fabric of his shirt. Forcefully, I thrust him back against the wall with a muffled grunt. It was time for the lioness to claim her prey.
The room around me spun. The harsh white glare from the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling by its frayed grey cord scorched my eyes. But I didn’t look away; I focused on Johannes, steadied my gaze on his pastel blue eyes. I hadn’t come back here to drown my sorrows. My own twin brother had very nearly destroyed me, and my best friend had abandoned me. If Lela was done with me, then it was time to find someone who wasn’t. It was time for me to take back control. It was time for me to start calling the shots.
My fingers tangled in the coarse fabric of his Ben Sherman shirt as I pulled him close. The soft curves of my body pressed against the hard lines of his. Our lips met in a sudden collision. My tongue darted out and flicked across his mouth. Almost immediately his mouth opened and our tongues met, intertwining in a ferocious dance. The acrid, bitter taste of cigarettes coated his mouth, mixing with the clinical sting of vodka.
My hands seized the wrists of his arms before they could wrap around my waist. He tried to pull me into a soft embrace, the sort that he was used to but that wasn’t what I wanted. Johannes’ eyes opened wide with surprise as I forced his hands up, underneath the fabric of Lela’s black Bon Jovi t-shirt. His touch felt hot against my skin. Roughly, I shoved him back against the wall, our mouths still locked in a passionate kiss.
Johannes let out a muffled grunt, but I didn’t stop. I had no intention of stopping. My hands grabbed hold of his collar, and with one sharp tug, I tore open the front of his shirt. Grabbing his shoulders tightly, I pushed him stumbling through the open door and into the gloom of the bedroom beyond.
Slipping the shirt off his shoulders, I watched it fall into a crumpled heap on the floor. I then grasped the hem of my t-shirt and with a swift tug pulled it over my head and tossed it into a dark corner of the room. Reaching behind my back, my fingers found the delicate clasp, and with a soft click, my bra fell carelessly to the ground.
The chill air of the room hit my bare skin, raising goosebumps on the flesh. It was a sharp contrast to the heat of the Johannes’ hands which ran across my body.
Digging my fingernails into his chest, I raked them down, the sharp edges leaving bright red scratches in their wake. Johannes tensed, his muscles clenching. A sharp gasp escaped him, but I carried on, his skin rough beneath my nails. It would be me who decided how and when this was going to end.
The heel of my hand struck him hard in the sternum, forcing him backwards, toppling him onto the bed. His eyes widened as he landed. Moving quickly, I tugged at the plastic button of his trousers, pulling the zip down with a firm yank. The room swayed and lurched around me, but I paid it little attention as I pulled his trousers down to his ankles.
Fumbling with the cold brass buttons of my own jeans, I managed to undo them and kicked them away along with my underwear.
Pouncing on him, my knees straddled his hips, pinning him to the mattress beneath me. I could smell his scent as I leant over him, the sharp chemical tang of his cheap aftershave. I pressed my body against his, my teeth nipping at his earlobe, my nails digging into his soft flesh.
He didn’t move. He just lay there, looking at me through large, helpless doe eyes as I lowered myself down onto him with a slow, deliberate pressure.
Every movement of my hips, every creak of the mattress, every clatter of the headboard was another part of me reclaimed. Each groan and scream that tore from Johannes was a victory. Every ragged gasp that escaped my lips was a signal of my growing strength and power. His face contorted, his eyes rolled back, glazed and unfocused.
Never again would I allow myself to be dominated. Now, I was the one who made the decisions; I was in control.
My movements mimicked the frantic beat of the music from the club, the pounding bass line. Sweat slickened my skin as a warm tingle began to blossom in my core. Electricity flared out, brushing aside the tingle. White hot sparks arced out through my body, cracking beneath my skin.
The room closed in around me, becoming a tunnel that flashed with shapes and colour. Vivid reds, greens, pinks and blues all flashed and swirled, blending together in front of my eyes.
A single blinding white light flared, a surge of pure, primal energy that washed over me, searing away all the pain, abuse and abandonment. A shrill scream tore from my throat as I collapsed forward, my cheek landing on Johannes’ heaving chest.
As our screams faded into the darkness, all that was left was the low, shallow rasp of his breath. His body, a used, expired husk.
Rolling off him, I dragged the duvet away, wrapping myself in its warmth. A shiver wracked through me. There was no warmth that night, just the biting draught which cut through the gaps in the window and a restless, alcohol induced slumber.