Chapter 2

There are a number of things I will never forget about sexy times with Klára. One was that she always got ridiculously wet. She didn’t squirt or anything, but instead just continuously leaked fluid. It tasted fine, salty and musky. Another was the noises. She didn’t moan, really; she’d grunt and pant as she got more and more excited, then as she’d get closer to orgasm she’d begin this low mmmmmmm sound and it would get louder and louder and finally she’d just be saying aaaaaaaaa loudly and continuously and then she’d be coming and it wouldn’t stop. As long as I kept licking and slurping away she’d yell a kind of modulated aaaaaaaa ... mmmmmmm aaaaaaa, mmmmm aaaaaa and keep having these contractions and I could just keep going until my mouth and tongue (or later my hands) got tired.

It was always like that. That first night she must have orgasmed ten times and eventually I was worn out and couldn’t stimulate her any more. Plus I was frustrated and wanted to come myself, but Klára hadn’t shown any sign of reciprocating. However, when I unbuttoned my pants she lay back in the classic position, legs spread wide, and the invitation was unmistakable. I hurriedly took off my pants, fumbled around awkwardly in my drawer for a while and found a condom I’d brought with me from the USA, pulled it on, and returned to the bed where Klára was still lying expectantly. I entered her carefully, and to my great embarrassment immediately came. Klára didn’t seem at all perturbed. I lay there on top of her, sweaty and hot and uncomfortable. Klára to my great surprise was stroking my back and hair and murmuring something unintelligible. I desperately wanted the evening to be over, or at least to roll off her and lie with a little separation between us, but she was holding me tightly and I didn’t want to be a cad.

Eventually - it was probably about half an hour - Klára announced in a completely normal voice that she had to go home. I breathed an inward sigh of relief and got up. As we got dressed I asked where she lived and she named an outlying district of the town - Christ, it would be an hour to walk there. I was going to take her, of course, but it was late - I hoped there were night buses running that way. Klára didn’t seem to be worried (I learned later that she had an infallible internal sense of time and knew the the bus timetables by heart) and we got to the bus station 2 minutes before the bus arrived.

She seemed mildly surprised that I got on too (what, did she think I wasn’t going to escort her home?) but she didn’t say anything. It was actually kind of sweet; we were almost the only people on the bus and we sat next to each other towards the back, my arm around her, with her holding my hand in her lap and her head on my shoulder. I was completely discombobulated by the events of the evening, but, at the same time, I felt a kind of affection towards her; the whole thing had been so ineffably odd, even bizarre, and yet she had apparently enjoyed herself, and we’d both obviously satisfied a kind of pent-up physical need, and here she was leaning against me and holding my hand as if we were old-fashioned boyfriend and girlfriend.

When we got off the bus, Klára started in the direction of a dreary housing block. I assumed I’d just leave her at the entrance but she echoed my own earlier words to her: “you can come up for tea.” Tea was the last thing I wanted — it was almost midnight — but Klára said it in a way that make it clear that she was assuming I was going to come up, so I followed her into the building. Maybe she was expecting me to stay over. I resolved that I would be graceful about it and stay the night if she invited me to. Actually, I was starting to get hard again at the prospect.