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Authors: Paddy Kelly

Tags: #love, #internet, #dating, #sex, #ireland, #irish, #sweden, #html, #stockholm

Erotic Refugees

BOOK: Erotic Refugees
6.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub


Erotic Refugees

By Paddy


Copyright 2012 Paddy


Cover art by Seamus Flanagan


This book may not be
reproduced, transmitted or stored in whole or in part by any means,
including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without express
written consent of the author except for brief quotations embodied
in critical articles or reviews.


Praise, support,
marriage proposals, death threats can be sent to:

[email protected]


And some random
scribblings can be found here:




Eoin held his breath as he
eased the bedroom door towards the wall. When it closed with the
barest of clicks he sighed with relief. He stood there for a
moment, just breathing. Then he turned and guided himself along in
the dark by running the back of his hand along the wall. At the top
of the stairs he paused and looked back.

He pictured the occupants of
the bedroom. Jenny would be sleeping, sprawled as usual across the
whole width of their monster double bed. Little Damien would be in
the cot beside her, coiled up in a rope of bedding with limbs
sticking out at unlikely angles. They'd both been sound asleep for
hours now. In fact, it felt like all of Stockholm was sleeping, the
whole city safe and warm and bereft of thoughts.

But not him. Eoin had spent the
evening fighting with Jenny. First was the fight itself, about
something diffuse as usual. After that came the pleading and
promises and temporary reconciliation. It had all taken hours but
Eoin really couldn't remember what the whole thing had been about.
They were never about very much, these arguments, but the energy
that got poured into each one, more and more every time, seemed to
suggest they were hugely important. That they were fixing

For the life of him Eoin
couldn't work out what was being fixed, or exactly how it had been

He closed the kitchen door,
fumbled for the light switch and sat down at the spotless oak
table. The oversized ceiling lamp flickered a few times and he
covered his eyes until it had settled down to a steady glow. He
slid his fingers from his face and dared to look around.

On the table in front of him
were six square coasters, all set at different angles to each
other. He frowned and reached out to straighten them up. He hated
square things where round things would have been better. Round
things were always the right way up, always symmetrical, while
square things demanded to be parallel to other lines and edges, to
be constantly poked and adjusted and squinted at until they matched
their surroundings.

Eoin liked things to be ordered
but he never saw the point of coasters. Why on earth had he allowed
Jenny to choose a table that required twenty-four hour care and
vigilance, and then position it in a room where people were
supposed to be relaxing? Surely a table that tolerated a little
wear and tear would have made for a smoother day-to-day existence?
Not to mention a better marriage, a fuller, happier life, and a
contented rosy glide into gibbering senility and death?

Eoin looked around the
well-built, top-quality kitchen with a stranger’s gaze. The
sparkling tiled walls were hung with all manner of pots and
appliances that he had always planned to use but had never got
around to. Everything was scrupulously clean, and in its proper
place, but it was all ultimately as flat and pointless as the
argument of that evening, and of the previous evening, and the
echoes of all previous arguments that came before. Like the pages
of a book they lay piled upon each other, reaching back into the
weeks and months before, and stretching out into all the numb years

He gazed out the window and
across the garden. He could make out the house on the other side
and the strip of sky behind it. He had no idea what the time was,
but that distant sky was already brightening to a dull grey. There
was a lively wind bending the tops of the larch trees, and it
looked like a storm might be on its way.

Eoin sighed. He should probably
get to bed just so he could get up again and do everything that was
expected of him. He'd get Damien ready, take him to day-care, go to
work, call Jenny for a shopping list, buy food, come home, put his
best foot forward, and his nose to the grindstone, and shoulder his
responsibilities, and all the rest of it.

But no. An unexpected feeling
had taken hold of him. He couldn't even move from his chair. He
flexed his fingers and stared at them. He studied his feet that
were pressed against the cold floor. Everything was the same, but
something was not right. He could feel it. Something was very
different indeed.

It came as a shock to Eoin when
he realised what it was. He felt calm, completely and utterly at
peace. He considered this sensation with deep suspicion. Why would
he be calm? Was it because of the rare silence around him, or the
lack of sleep? Maybe he was coming down with another bout of

But no, it wasn't any of those
things. Eoin was calm because a decision had been reached. Some
part of his mind had been spinning away all this time and had only
now returned with its final analysis. Eoin considered that
perfectly obvious solution, and nodded slowly.

Everything had suddenly become
very simple.

He took a deep breath and
pushed himself back from the table. He replaced the chair neatly in
its position, adjusted the coasters once more and turned his back
on the window. Then he strode across the spotless floor, feeling
the delicious bite of the tiles on his bare feet with every

At the kitchen door he turned
around and took one final look at the life he now recognised as
somebody else's. He switched off the light, pulled the door closed
and headed upstairs to finally face the coming storm.



The first thing Rob did after
he got fired was to take a very long lunch break and pay a visit to
Kajsa. When he came on her stomach with a heart-clenching “ungn!”
he collapsed onto the bed beside her, feeling, for just a moment,
totally fine. It didn’t take long, however, for his mind to pull
its post-coital fingers out of its ears and start reminding him
about the three dreary but inescapable facts of the moment.

Fact one was that he was out of
work in a country that wasn't his own. Fact two was that he had
neither the education, experience nor inclination to locate a
replacement job any time soon.

And fact number three was that
he was in bed with a girl he was acutely embarrassed to be seen

Kajsa lay still with her broad
back facing him. He knew she wasn’t asleep, she just liked to lie
there for a minute in the after-glow, breathing slowly and giving
the occasional shiver. “Bra jobbat,” she muttered in her native
Swedish, and reached back to pat his naked thigh.

Yeah, well, good job
yerself,” Rob said, already beginning to feel the guilt stirring.
The thing was, he wasn’t together with Kajsa, and he didn’t want to
be. He just popped over occasionally for a bit of the other, an
agreement that seemed to suit the both of them just fine. But he
suspected she might want more than that. She never really indicated
it, but he just assumed that she did. Women generally did want
more, didn’t they? Like husbands and houses and kids and

Then there was the other thing,
the thing that was the major problem with Kajsa. She was a rather
large girl. Not large enough to merit a spread in a specialist
magazine, but large enough that Rob didn’t want to be seen with her
in public. And definitely not in front of his friends, who’d go on
about it forever and start calling him “Big Mamma” or “Rodeo Rob”
or something equally witty and cutting.

Kajsa was kind and smart and
funny, but Rob didn’t want to put her (or more importantly,
himself) in that position. Any other position involving the two of
them was, however, fine by him. As long as the positioning took
place on her sofa, or across the kitchen table, or on the rug with
the net curtains firmly drawn.

So you are fired? You
are sure?”

Damn right I’m sure,”
Rob said. “Old Hans called me in and gave me the good news himself.
They kept bloody Erik, even though I’m miles better than him. But
of course he was hired like one whole week before me—”

Last in, first out,”
Kajsa said. She gave a mighty stretch before she rolled over on her
back and smiled. “You signed up for this country, you know the

A few strands of brown hair
were sweat-glued to the left side of her face. Rob resisted the
temptation to reach out and pluck them free. That would be far too
relationshippy, and he didn’t want to venture anywhere in that

But you’ll get another
job, right?”

Rob sat up in the bed and
grabbed a couple of pillows. Kajsa watched with amusement as he
twisted and punched them into the correct shape before sinking into
them. “I don’t want another bloody job. I’m tired of bein’ a
code-monkey, doin’ meaningless crap for other people. I was tellin’

Brian the

Yeah, I went round his
café for a cappuccino as soon as they told me. Didn’t think he’d
make me pay for it, since I’m on the dole now, But he did, the
tight bastard.”

And you told him

That there’s only one
thing to do, isn’t there? I’ll have to dream up some idea and start
my own Internet company. Make a fortune, then retire and never do a
proper day’s work again.” He clasped his hands behind his head.
“And Brian bet me I couldn’t.”

How much money did he
bet you?”

It wasn’t money, it was
a sandwich.”

This caused Kajsa to sit up.
She was naked and spotted with sweat and crispy patches of semen,
but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

Did you say a sandwich?
What kind of bet is that?”

He’s got this board on
the wall. Ye know, that big menu with all the sandwiches. Named
after musicians like Sagan and Dirac and Dyson and all.”

Kajsa gave an amused look but
said nothing.

And he’ll let me design
my own sandwich and put it up there if I win. I can just see it
now—the Maher, a sandwich masterpiece! And I'll pull it off too, no
problem. I mean, I've got one more month to work, and then six
months with extra unemployment pay from the union. So that’s a
whole seven months with a steady income. More than enough time to
get some idea off the ground.”

Kajsa looked sweetly
unconvinced. “And if you lose?”

Well I don’t plan to
lose, do I? But if I do, I’ll have to work in his café for a whole
weekend. Probably wearing a dress or something, knowin’

Kajsa nodded. “A dress would
probably suit you Rob. I’m getting some water, you want some?”

Tea would be

I’m sure it would, but I
don’t have any of your strange Irish tea. And you won’t drink the
tea that I have.”

That stuff’s not tea,”
Rob said as Kajsa swung her legs out of the bed and padded to the
kitchen. “Tea doesn’t have fruit and flowers and all that mystery
crap in it. Tea’s made from black leaves, and only black leaves.
Anything else is a crime against nature.”

Mmm,” she said as she
returned to the bed holding two glasses of water. She put one down
and Rob took the other with a nod and sipped at it. He glanced at
her as she adjusted the sheets. For a big lady, her breasts were
very shapely. And her thighs were firm and gripping. And then there
was her...

Rob swallowed his water with a
gulp and tried not to stare, since that could lead to unexpected
consequences, and then even more guilt.

She swung onto the bed again
and turned to him. Her brown-eyed gaze was level and there was a
coy smile on her lips. “And what kind of sandwich will it be?”

Umm,” Rob said, unable
to look away from those eyes. “Oh the sandwich, right. I’m thinking
tuna, and mayo, and these little green balls. You know the

She shifted closer to him. “You
mean capers?”

Sure, millions of those
little bastards. Every café needs a tuna and mayo and caper combo,
don’t they?”

She nodded as she reached for
her glass and took a slow sip. She returned it to the bedside table
and then, in the same flowing movement, shifted her hand to Rob’s
stomach where she began to trace out a lazy circle with the tips of
her fingers.

BOOK: Erotic Refugees
6.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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