1.
I went to that party by pure coincidence.
I had met Mikkel, one of my students, outside the Faculty of Law building at uni. He was having a beer with some pals after passing an important exam. He thanked me for my guidance and invited me to a party at his parents' apartment on Frederiksberg that same warm evening in May.
I said that I might come, without making promises.
Having nothing better on the agenda, I found myself at 21:15 in front of a fancy building on Frederiksberg Allé.
I rang the doorbell and took the old, well-kept elevator to the top floor, the fifth.
Mikkel greeted me at the door.
"Help yourself at the bar. My parents are away and told me to serve what's in the house. Except for the expensive stuff. But that's locked up anyway."
I walked around the enormous apartment feeling very old. All the guests appeared, like Mikkel, to be in their early twenties. I as 29 but my greying beard made me look older, which is normally great in my professional life. But at this party? Not so much.
I helped myself to a glass of ice-cold prosecco at the bar. Equipped with that, I entered the spacious roof deck. And there, in a corner, three girls were chatting on comfortable garden sofas around a burning torch on a small table. A hand-rolled cigarette with the unique smell of weed was being passed around.
The centre of attention was this extremely pretty, blonde-dyed, Latina type girl who didn't exactly look like the law students I taught at uni. What first caught my attention was her tight black mini dress that had this opening at the front, revealing an apparently bottomless cleavage and exhibiting maybe 40 percent of her impressive tits, just shy of showing the areolas. She had a honey blonde mop of long, frizzy hair. Her septum and earlobes were decorated with matching rings, each with a little ball. The olive skin on her bare arms and legs was generously tattooed.
I stood by the small group for a minute, listening to the story she was telling about a naked woman Mikkel's parents had once caught in their hallway, who turned out to be his girlfriend and former schoolteacher, obviously more than 10 years older than him (more about this in the story
The New Matilde -- 11 Months Later).
The striking young woman abruptly interrupted her tale and faced me:
"You like my boob window, stranger?" she asked with her hoarse voice and shook her tits with a sarcastic smile on her full lips.
I must have been staring.
"Yes. I mean... I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"It's all right to like my boobs. You'd better. They've been very expensive."
"They are... very nice."
"Nice?
Is that all. You really enjoyed them, didn't you?"
The other girls, who looked more like typical law students, were giggling.
"I did," I admitted. "You really have a nice pair."
"And you like my dress too?"
"I do."
I took a small step away from the group.
"Don't be shy. Come and sit!" She beat the empty seat next to her in the sofa with the palm of her hand. "I'm sure you'd like to sit here and take a closer look and share this with us."
She held out the joint in her perfectly manicured hand with pink, almond-shaped fingernails.
"Come on. I don't bite," she smiled enticingly. "Unless you want me to."
I felt trapped, sat down next to her as directed, and put down my glass on the table in front of me. I noticed a pair of glittering pink shoes with 12-centimetre heels in front of her. She kept holding the joint in my direction. I took it. All three girls were watching, expecting me to smoke.
I put the joint between my lips, taking in a tiny bit of smoke, which immediately led to a bad coughing fit, during which I managed to return the joint.
"You're not much of a smoker, are you?" the blonde commented.
"No, I'm not," I admitted.
She took another deep hit from the joint herself and passed it on to the girl sitting opposite to her.
"Don't worry. You can learn it, stranger," she said and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. "I myself was almost 18 before I started smoking. Cigarettes, I mean. Until then I was totally anti-smoking. And I obviously didn't know the first thing about smoking weed."
"So, what made you start smoking at almost 18?" I asked and dried away the tears that the severe coughing fit had produced.
"My boyfriend, that's Mikkel, our host, wanted me to."
"Mikkel is your boyfriend?" I asked and may have sounded surprised.
"He was. Anyway, he's
really
into pretty women who smoke. Like his ex-girlfriend, his former schoolteacher, the woman I was just talking about. She showed me how I could turn him on and make his dick stand simply by smoking a cigarette."
(More about this in the story
Matilde in the World of Media & Art).
"That's interesting," I remarked.
"Yes. Isn't it? And ever since I have enjoyed about a pack and a half of these a day." She pointed to her Camel Blue cigarettes on the table. "And a lot of high quality weed of course. I'm Katinka by the way."
"Svend," I said and took the well-manicured hand she extended toward me.
I shook hands with Line and Anna, the two giggling law students on the other side of the table. They turned out to be in my class at uni and I vaguely recognised them.
Katinka continued her long story about the naked schoolteacher who had this unexpected introduction to Mikkel's parents, whose luxurious apartment we were partying in.
"And how do you know Mikkel?" Katinka asked as the story was over.
"I know him from university. He's my student. Like... Line and Anna here."
"You're his law professor?"
"I'm not exactly a professor. I teach part-time and work at a law firm. Mikkel used to be your boyfriend?"
"Yeah, as I said. Back in high school. You seem surprised? Where's that joint?"
She looked at Anna who was just putting out the tiny remains of the joint in the ashtray. Katinka shrugged, picked a Camel from her pack, and lit it before she continued.
"You seem surprised. It's like you don't think Mikkel could have that kind of girlfriend."
"What kind is that?"
"The kind who has this dark Arab look but instead of wearing a hijab she shows off her fake tits in public, is tattooed all over, and gets stoned at parties."
"Are you some kind of Arab?"
"No. I'm from Copenhagen."
"Obviously. But do you have... family roots in the Middle East."
"No. But that's what people assume when they see me. I'm half Brazilian."
"That explains the absence of a hijab."
"Yeah, doesn't it?"
"Yes. And I really don't know Mikkel that well, but I guess he's open to adventure now that I've learned that he had sex with his former teacher."
"Yeah. He sure is. As his teacher you should watch out, Professor," Katinka smiled and took a deep drag from her cigarette.
"I will."
