As the Airbus A320 from Stockholm descended towards Charles de Gaulle airport, my heart raced with anticipation. I was focused on making my connecting flight to New York, where my friend awaited me.
Impatiently I waited for the seatbelt sign to switch off. The moment it did, I was up, grabbing my carry-on and joining the throng moving slowly towards the exit. Every minute felt like an eternity as we shuffled forward, and I silently cursed, anxious to move quicker.
Once on solid ground, I broke into a run, weaving through the crowds of travelers in the terminal. But as I reached the long line at the passport control checkpoint, I groaned inwardly. It snaked on endlessly. Every tick of the clock was a reminder of the precious minutes slipping away.
When I finally reached the officer, I thrust my passport forward with a sense of urgency. He scrutinized it suspiciously for what felt like an eternity before finally returning it and motioning me through. With a muttered 'merci', I rushed past, solely focused on my transatlantic flight.
At the gate, my heart sank as I realized that it was completely deserted and my plane had left. With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to the situation and went to a transfer desk where I was promised a room for the night and directed to a distant waiting area which I moved towards at a more leisurely pace.
As I sank into the hard, uncomfortable plastic seat in the almost empty transit area, my eyes were drawn to a familiar face sitting just a few seats away. My heart skipped a beat. No way, that couldn't be Nicole Andersson, could it? The Nicole Andersson whose videos I had watched countless times, whose poster had once adorned my bedroom wall?
She was dressed casually in a purple crop top with spaghetti straps and a short yellow skirt. She was barefoot and between her carefully pedicured feet and her small carry-on was a pair of sandals with obscenely high heels. Her elaborate tattoos made her easily recognizable.
My heart thumped erratically as I considered approaching her. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to speak to someone I'd always longed to meet. But the thought was terrifying. What if I said something stupid? What if she found me annoying and dismissed me? I could already imagine stumbling over my words, face flushing red, making a complete fool of myself. Stars like her probably dealt with overzealous fans all the time. Would I want to be just another one of those?
She was a star and I was just a dumb guy from Sweden, who jerked off to her videos. What would I even say to her? 'Hey, I loved you in that scene'? What a clichΓ©!
But then, as I watched her quietly scrolling through her phone, seemingly as stranded as I was, a rare opportunity presented itself. We were both just human beings, temporarily removed from our usual lives, stuck in an airport late at night, having nothing better to do. Maybe she'd even welcome a little smalltalk.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, my curiosity and admiration overpowered my reluctance. I knew I needed to try to speak to her. After all, how many times do you get the chance to meet someone like her in person? If nothing else, I could tell my friends about it. Or some of them.
Taking a deep breath, I stood up, rehearsing my opening line in my head, hoping above all to come across as respectful and composed. I cleared my throat and reminded myself, "You'll never know unless you try". I walked toward her with deliberately casual steps, repeating a simple greeting in my head. "Hi, I'm Alf," I planned to say, hoping my voice wouldn't betray the nervous excitement bubbling inside me. As I approached, I prayed silently that this encounter would be anything but embarrassing.
"Um, excuse me, is your name Nicole?" I asked nervously.
She looked up from her phone, brushed her long, blonde hair away from her face and took off her headphones.
"Yeah?"
I stood there frozen for far too long, not knowing what to say.
She gave me a charming and confident smile. "Do you have any follow-up questions?"
Did I detect a hint of irritation in her voice?
"Yes. What's it like being a pornstar?" I blurted out, anxious to come up with a question while I had her attention.
She burst into a bubbly and charming laugh. "That's a great follow-up. You're the kind who gets straight to the point, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry... I guess I'm just a little nervous... I didn't mean to..."
"Don't be sorry. And don't be nervous. I like it when people are curious. And to answer your question: Life as an adult entertainer is a fucking rollercoaster. One minute you're the admired center of attention and desire, the next you're scraping cum off your tits on some shithole set in the middle of nowhere. It has its ups and downs, like any job. But I love what I do."
Her graphic and detailed response was more than I could have hoped for. She smiled at me, expectantly, as if she was waiting to hear what else I had to ask her. I hesitated for a moment before I felt compelled to break the silence.
"I'm a big fan of your work," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm Alf from Sweden by the way."
Her smile widened, and she extended her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Alf from Sweden. I'm Nicole Andersson."
"Ehhh... My last name is not 'from Sweden'. It's Andersson. Just like yours. In Sweden it's a very common name."
She smiled ambiguously. "Oh? You're an Andersson. Maybe we are distant cousins then, Alf?"
"I don't know. I..."
"I was joking. Obviously, Andersson is not my legal name. When I got into the industry, I figured a Scandinavian name was fitting. With my blonde hair and all. Don't I look Swedish to you?"
"Yes. Very much."
"I'm not. Why don't you sit down and talk to me, Alf? Please!"
She made an inviting gesture towards the seat next to hers and I sat down.
"Looks like we're both stuck here for the night," I said into the moment of awkward silence, eager to keep the conversation with this uniquely sexy woman going.
Nicole shrugged and smiled sarcastically. "Another glamorous day in the life of an adult entertainer. But hey, it's not every day you get to spend the night in Paris, right? Where are you going, Alf?"
"New York."
"I'm headed home to L.A. myself. Too bad we won't leave on the same flight."
"I'm a big fan of your work, Nicole."
"Yes. You mentioned that."
"I'm sorry. I'm a little nervous."