Page 35 of The Sleepwalker
‘I think so,’ she replies, trying to hold back a smile.
‘It would explain everything.’
‘He could be doing it for the military or the Security Service .?.?. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to let you sleep over now. I mean .?.?. what if you slice me open in your sleep?’ she says.
‘Don’t say that.’
When Hugo finishes eating, Olga opens her laptop while he clears and wipes the table and does the washing up. Once he is done, he leans back against the counter and watches her until she looks up.
‘What?’
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says.
‘Maybe you’d like to show Olga everything you’ve learned so far?’ she says, getting up.
‘Now?’
‘Unless you’ve got other plans?’
She kicks off her slippers and stands on tiptoe as he kisses her and caresses her breasts beneath her blouse.
Seven months ago, Olga started commenting on Hugo’s posts on social media, and they met at a bar and began a no-strings relationship.
She immediately took it upon herself to give him an education in sex, teaching him that he needs to shave before he goes down on a woman and that the clitoris isn’t just the little nub visible on the outside, but a large area in and around the vagina.
He remembers her matter-of-factly explaining that everything men have, women have too, and vice versa, but that a woman’s glans is five times more sensitive and shouldn’t be touched right away.
‘When the time is right, when you can see that she’s ready .?.?. lightly kiss that whole area. Lick it gently,’ she said. ‘Take it easy, pay attention and let her guide you, and it’ll be great.’
Olga kisses his throat and whispers that they should take things through to the bedroom, unbuttoning her trousers and tugging them down along with her knickers.
The thin fabric of her blouse flutters around her as she walks. She has the name Jacek tattooed on her right buttock, a tribute to her first boyfriend, but she has promised to have it removed as soon as she has the time and money.
Hugo follows her out into the living room, where the long burgundy curtains are drawn over the window and the balcony door. Beside the sofa, there is a small brass drinks trolley – something she found in a dumpster and restored herself – cluttered with bottles of Polish vodka and cherry liqueur.
They make their way down the hall, past the bathroom and into the bedroom.
There is a pillar candle burning on the shabby chest of drawers, and the wax is glowing, the flame flickering anxiously.
Olga tosses her blouse onto a stool, pulls back the covers and lies down, naked, in the bed. She has her ankles crossed, her hands folded beneath her head.
The candlelight dances slowly over her body.
Hugo quickly gets undressed, crawls on top of her and parts her thighs. He kisses the smooth skin between her legs and looks up. Olga smiles at him and adjusts the pillow beneath her head.
‘You found your way, my sweet prince .?.?.’
He caresses her with his tongue until she pushes his head away, rolls onto her stomach and gets up onto all fours.
Hugo enters her from behind, thrusting slowly as she strokes herself with one hand.
‘Don’t stop,’ she whispers.
Looking down, Hugo sees the name Jacek trembling with every pump. He speeds up, causing the coin on the chain around his neck to thud against his chest. He hears her quickening breaths and notices the sweat glistening on her back.
The flame in the candle tilts, and its glow flickers up the wall behind the bed.
Olga lets out a long, low moan and slumps onto her stomach. Hugo tries to keep going, but she rolls over onto her side. Her thighs are trembling, and she is panting, both hands cupped between her legs. After a moment or two, she turns onto her back, her body relaxed. She looks up at him.
