Americans still tried their best to copy the style, and it was something, but nothing beat the real thing. It was no accident that the form originated in northwestern Europe. Given a choice, I would take the more melodic and technical Swedish bands, hands down, though the other Nordic countries had their attractions as well.
Collecting my weekly stack, I got as close as I ever did to Ola, playing the usual game of interaction roulette with the aged and cracked debit machine that had been third-hand when she had gotten it through dubious means. I strongly preferred cash, but that had recently gone the way of the dinosaur. Too much direct contact involved, even with gloves.
I nodded to her once more as I left the store.
Thinking that a respectable amount of time had passed, I got out my phone and hit the listing for Brigid’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s Leif.”
“Oh, hi, Leif!” she said, her voice brightening up noticeably.
“I was thinking about you.”
“I-I was thinking about you, too,” she confessed, her breathless tone implying that her thoughts had not been entirely pure.
“I was thinking about that date.”
“Yeah, about that, how are we going to manage that with the lockdown and everything?”
“You just leave that to me, okay? All I need from you is for you to be home, preferably alone, okay?”
My head was racing with ideas, but I had a plan in mind.
“Okay, I can do that.”
“When is good for you?”
“How about now?”
“Okay. Do you need, like, my email or something...?”
“It’s all figured out. Are you at your computer?”
“Yes.”
“Stay there. We can begin in an hour.”
I snapped my phone shut. I had some preparing to do.
Chapter Three - Lisa
It’s funny how things go sometimes. Just when life is getting bad, a bit of hope comes and makes you think maybe everything will turn out alright.
Suddenly an alert came up on my screen. I didn’t recognize what it was at first, almost having forgotten I had ever set up the video-chat app. Closing my robe quickly, I tapped ACCEPT.
As though by magic, Leif was there. He seemed to jump out of the screen, almost like he was sitting right across from me, in a beautiful chair in a room as dark as mine, illuminated by blue light like I was. It gave him an otherworldly, almost supernatural quality.
He was dressed nicely, in a simple black suit with a blue dress shirt, open at the collar. A small silver Hammer of Thor, symbolic of Nordic mythology, hung around his neck. It was really nice that he had made an effort.
I, on the other hand, was still in my robe, having taken his directive to stay where I was a bit more literally than he had likely meant it. Fiercely independent as I might try to be, I was a submissive at heart. Particularly to a strong, powerful man like Leif.
“Hi,” he said, as though it was just another Tuesday.
“Hi.”
“Turn your camera on, please.”
“Oh, why?”
“So I can see you,” he said, in a way that instantly made me wet.
“Okay.”
It took several minutes to find the camera controls. My trembling fingers were not helping much. Still, Leif waited patiently for me to figure it all out, his soft expression giving an uncommon sort of comfort.
“There, did that work?”
“It sure did. There you are.”
I blushed at the pet name, too shy to conjure a witty reply. Let alone a similar name for him.
“You look amazing,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
“So do you.”
“Come on. I’m in my robe.”
“A Chinese silk robe.”
“Is it?”
“Oh yes. It’s hard to tell without seeing it in person, but early nineteenth century, I would guess. Looks to be in nearly mint condition, too.”
The robe had belonged to my ex. He’d walked out on Polly and me so fast I figured he must have forgotten it. It felt pretty good to know I had something of his that might be worth something.
“Valuable?”
“If it’s the real thing, extraordinarily so.”
“How do you know?”
“I like old stuff. I mean, I still have a smartphone and all that jazz. I am well aware of what century I live in, don’t worry. I just take pleasure in the simpler things, like studying that which came before. When we ran into each other earlier today, I was on my way to archery practice, in fact.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized I really could see him with a bow and quiver, driving bolts though the dead centers of targets. His arms certainly looked big enough to get decent string tension.
Just the thought of it made me pretty hot. I wasn’t really the type to spend time worrying about the end of the world, but if things really did go south and society crumbled, I would want someone like Leif by my side.
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it is, particularly when it is going well. I crafted my bow and arrows myself. Had to buy the quiver, though; the right kind of leather is just too hard to come by around here. Had it imported from England.”
My hand slipped down to my aching pussy. I knew I shouldn’t. Not when he could see me. But I was just so horny I had to find release, or I might explode.
“Sounds expensive,” I said, trying to keep up the conversation, gently stroking the outside of my pussy.
“Not really. I have my ways. Is your hand where I think it is?”
“What?” I asked, pulling my hand away quickly.
“Your hand.”
“I, um, where do you think it was?”
“Between your legs,” he whispered in a way that made me melt like ice cream in August.
“It was,” I confessed, blushing furiously.
“Take off your robe,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, without a moment’s hesitation.
I wanted him to see me. Even if he couldn’t touch me.
“Good girl,” he said, making me bite my lower lip. “Now open your legs.”
I obeyed him, spreading my legs wide, the cool air brushing onto my pussy making me tingle.
“Where would you want me to touch you?”
“Here,” I begged, indicating my soaking, tender, open slit.
“With my fingers or my tongue?”
“Fingers first,” I said, shuddering with anticipation at the very idea.
“Wet yours.”
I plunged my fingers into my mouth and sucked them like I had just burned them, getting them nice and slick like Leif had ordered.
“Now touch that pussy of yours that is dripping wet for me,” he directed.
Lightly, I moved my well-wetted fingertips to my outer lips, moaning loud with sweet relief as much as tender pleasure.
“Feel me stroke you,” he said calmly.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it. His fingers caressing my delicate pink folds, flooding me with pleasure.
“Now pretend I’m fingering you.”
With his permission, I put two fingers inside me, still pretending that they were his, filling me up, giving me such joy. I really could have cried.