Chapter 21 eleven

Johannes poached fish in a creamy sauce, sprinkled with saffron, and served with grated potatoes.As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I could smell the fragrance. As long as I followed the fragrance, passed through the door of the F2 area, and walked into the entrance, I could come to the door of his residence.The name plate on the door reads Johannes.Obie, announce that he lives here. I knock on the door.He came to open the door with an apron around his waist and a wooden fork in his hand. He kissed my cheek and said: Welcome, you look so beautiful!Dinner is almost ready, please take a seat, it will be ready in a while.

I sat down at the table, which was set for two: blue stoneware plate, stemware, blue napkin folded into a triangle next to the plate, two candles in a copper candlestick, and a box of matches.A gray-pink stone about the size of a medium-sized mobile phone is placed next to the candlestick as a decoration, with white cone-shaped fossils embedded in the stone.Johannes came into the kitchen with the wooden fork; I heard the clang and the clang, and I heard him whistling and humming.I picked up the match and lit the candle.Johannes came out with two dish mats and a glass bottle, which seemed to be white wine, but was actually grape juice.He smiled and said: Ready.Then he put the dish mat and carafe on the table, went back to the kitchen, and brought out a large frying pan, a saucepan, and two ladles.He turned off the ceiling light before sitting down across from me.

We sat in the glowing candlelight, and there were only two of us alone in the room.The food was delicious and I cannot but praise his craftsmanship.We didn't talk much during the meal, just looked at each other occasionally; for some reason, I felt shy, and maybe he felt the same.Towards the end of the meal, I was embarrassed by the way he looked at me, so I looked down at the table and the pink stone with the fossil embedded in it. Where did you find this?I asked. On a beach on the south coast of Sweden, between Mosby and Abekos. I put down my knife and fork and looked up at him.when?

when?Uh, I think it was about two years before I came here, almost five years ago.Why do you ask? Because that's my beach!I said: Well, I say mine because I go there a lot with my dog, at least two or three times a week.What are you doing there?So it's possible we've seen each other there. He looks at me. Yes, he said: it is possible. Then he told me how he found the stone, and why he left it behind: It was fall, and I was writing a novel, probably my last, when I hit a snag and was on the verge of giving up.In order to clear my head and avoid making hasty decisions, I borrowed a car from a friend and took a trip to the South Bank.The sea over there is wide and wide, and I want to go to the open sea, and I want to know that it is still very far away from the next beach.I walked for hours along the beach, from Port Abecos to Mosby Beach and back, back and forth several times.It was late autumn at that time, and the dusk came early, and it was a steel blue color. If it was a cloudy day, the autumn dusk by the sea would usually be this color.Anyway, I was walking on the beach as it was getting dark, and I was looking at the rocks, shells, driftwood, and trash washed up on the beach.That's when I saw this rock, lying on the edge of the water, its fossils pink and white in the twilight.

Johannes fell silent.The stone was still lying in my hand, and I put my hand on the table with my palm facing up. He stretched out his fingers and stroked the stone in my hand with his fingertips, and continued to say: It was lying on the edge of the water, and it looked like it was glowing at me, so I stopped and crouched.As soon as I touched the stone, everything became clear and all the pieces fit together.There seemed to be a deep valley before my eyes, and in that wide valley, I saw what to do with my novels, and it felt so clear.I put the stone in my pocket, drove home, and finished the novel in a few days.Since then, I will not let this stone leave my side.

After dinner I sat in the armchair and Johannes sat on the sofa, drinking tea together. Tell me about your dog.Johannes said. I'm in doubt.Thinking of York brought heavy tears to my throat.I think Johannes should have seen it, for he added quietly: Of course you will, Dolly. I would, and tell him so at the same time.I talk about York, and I talk about my love for York.Johannes didn't seem amused to hear me tell about my loving bond with a dog, and he didn't even seem amused when I said that York actually loved me, too.He listens with understanding and respect.I went on, couldn't stop talking about my house, my yard, even something about Niels.

Then Johannes told me that when he was my age he fell in love with a woman, they lived together, he had a very happy life with her, but she left him as soon as she became pregnant with his child. One night she told me she was pregnant and I was so happy.I'm going to be a dad and I feel so proud.But a few days later, I went out for a jog and came home to find her shoes and coat in the hallway gone, her wardrobe empty, her bathroom shelves, her books, her photos, her laptop, All her belongings were gone.After this incident, I became cold, unable to love, unable to have sex, unable to be close to people.And so the time passed, and suddenly I was sixty years old, here, on this mountain of glass, or rather, in this mountain of glass.

So what's going on now?I asked. what's the matterHe asked back, but I could tell from his eyes and his softened lips that he understood what I meant. Are you ready now?I said. What can I do?At this point, he said, there was a hint of provocation in his expression. It makes me feel awkward. Oh, you know I muttered. I felt that my cheeks were hot, and I knew that my cheeks were red, so I looked away. We were silent for a while, then he said: Dolly, come and sit here. His tone was gentle, not domineering at all, but very firm and decisive, as if he knew exactly what he wanted, which shocked me.Niels had this attitude too, and he sounded like he knew exactly what he wanted, and he would express simple wishes with a gentle but firm tone that moved my heart.

I've always had an overly strong tendency: If a guy knows exactly what he wants and can express it without yelling and intimidation, that's what gets me.Also, if a man speaks as if he's in control, I'm tempted too.So I sat in Johannes' armchair with a heart throbbing as if it had just been cut out of one body and would soon be sewn into another.I felt a throbbing in my lower body that spread to the inner thighs.My cheeks were hot and my eyes were hot and shiny, as if I had a high fever.But I didn't say a word, I didn't move, I just sat in the armchair and soaked in these physical reactions and sensations.

I want you to come and sit on the couch next to me.Johannes spoke in the same soft, firm tone.I didn't look at him, but I could feel him looking at me, I could feel his eyes searching for mine all over my face. I want you to come here now.He added another sentence. Why?I made a low, hoarse voice. You know what the answer is, he said: Come here. I try, try to move my arms and legs, support my body, get out of the armchair and take two or three steps to the sofa.But I became a helpless dork, totally out of my will.No, it's not like that, I have a will of my own, because I want to move, want to move so much, it hurts to think about it.Yet I couldn't control my limbs, let alone move them.I give up.

You have to come and help me.I said softly. He did so, got up from the sofa without a word, went to the armchair, lifted me up in his arms, and led me to the sofa.I didn't do anything but collapsed into his arms and laid myself down on the sofa cushions.I did nothing but let him kiss me and I kissed him back, tasting his lips hungrily and sucking his tongue as if his tongue were a nipple and I was a hungry lamb.I did nothing but let him unbutton my shirt and pants and take off my clothes one by one.I did nothing but lay naked in front of him with my legs slightly spread under his gaze.I did nothing but let him hold me and run his hands over my skin; he touched every inch of my skin, as if looking for a scar, or any sign of aggression, assault, accident.I did nothing but let him touch my hands, arms, neck, face, breasts, belly, thighs, buttocks, pussy.I didn't do anything, didn't move a single muscle, just let him bend over between my thighs and press his tongue against me.I did nothing but let him tense his tongue muscles and stimulate my clit.I did nothing but let myself be pushed into a warm orgasm, washed by the waves of orgasm.After the orgasm, before I could catch my breath, he was inside me, from the front and from above.He propped himself up on his arms, moving slowly and provocatively, sometimes violently.He fucked me and I really felt myself being fucked.He conquered me, conquered a woman like a veritable man, a master of women, a caveman, a primitive man, a male animal with a reptilian brain.And I did nothing, nothing at all, just allowed myself to be conquered, and that just wasn't right, there are no words to describe that feeling.