Club 33 was so dimly lit that Jill, who was beginning to feel the effects of the considerable amount of alcohol she'd consumed already that night, stumbled and fell to her knees on the plush-carpeted stairs of the entryway. Erik Mortensen helped the blushing young redhead to her feet, allowing his hand to rest a little longer than necessary on her smooth-skinned upper arm. Jesus Christ, she felt so soft and warm there – how much better her full breasts and flaring hips would feel!
As the handsome blonde's hand lingered on her sensitive flesh, the intoxicated redhead was thinking much the same thing. His pressuring hand felt so good that her clouded imagination immediately conjured up an obscene vision of his hands gently and sensuously caressing every inch of her naked flesh. Jill shivered, a lewd tingle traversing her slender body. Something told her that she was remembering rather than fantasizing. It must be those porno magazines, the auburn-haired young woman convinced herself, once again driving her obscene memories of the long-haired drug addict back down into her subconscious. I wash I'd never seen the awful things! And then, as Erik led her into the exotically decorated club, she thought no more of her body's unwelcome arousal.
The ground floor of Club 33 had been designed by a young Danish interior decorator who'd just returned from six months in Marrakesh, and anyone entering the room was immediately plunged into a sensuous Arabian Nights atmosphere. Club members, for this was a special "key club" which wealthy Danish hedonists, well-heeled foreigners, successful dope dealers, and various other hangers-on paid many kroner for the privilege of entering, lounged around the large candlelit room in various stages of stupefied collapse or amphetamine-accelerated exhilaration. At one end of the large, tapestry-walled room was a bar of sorts where a long-haired youth clad in a silver-embroidered Moroccan robe sat crosslegged upon a dais mixing drinks into smoky-blue mugs. The air was filled with the scent of incense and a pungent undertone of cigarette smoke which immediately made Jill feel quite overwhelmed by the sensuous, harem-like mood of the place.
The baffled yet undeniably excited young law student stared around her in stunned bewilderment, taking note first of the ceiling which was painted in a deep midnight-blue interspersed with bright stars. Then she focused her eyes on the far end of the long narrow room where a voluptuous young girl draped in a translucent garment adorned with silver serpents spitting fire was belly-dancing around an authentic-looking stuffed camel. Many brightly-colored pipes shaped much like the one she'd smoked last night at Dizzy's apartment hung from the camel's velvet shoulder bags, and the bewildered young redhead noticed that most of the guests were inhaling a sweet-smelling tobacco that she immediately recognized as hashish. The belly-dancer was undulating in time to the loud sounds of rather incongruous rock music blaring from speakers hidden in several enormous potted plants.
"Wow!" Mortensen exclaimed. "This is really wild! Last time I was here it was a South Sea island. Why don't you sit down while I get us something to drink and smoke."
Although a little voice inside her brain was calling out a warning, the wide-eyed young law student felt her hypnotized body following the tall Dane's instructions. Sinking to an unoccupied velvet couch, she turned her attention to the other people in the room. They were dressed in a variety of styles, exotic costumes, well-tailored suits, nondescript jeans, all of which gave the Moroccan decorations a touch of Mardi-Gras spirit. Jill shook her head, finding it very hard to adjust the past few days. And today had been perhaps the oddest of all, what with her lapsed memory, the magical Hans Christian Andersen atmosphere of Tivoli, and now this extraordinary Club 33. Nobody back home would ever believe her if she told them about this place; they thought they were being pretty wild when they smoked a little grass and drank a case of beer in someone's beachhouse. In fact, the twenty-two year old had a hard time believing that she was not dreaming herself!
"I hope you'll like this," Erik said, interrupting her reverie. "It's what everybody drinks here – tequila."
"Tequilla?" Jill queried. "It's Mexican, isn't it? I've heard of it, but I never tried it."
"You do it like this," the tall blond man explained, licking his hand and sprinkling a little salt on it, then tasting it. Next he took a bit of juice from one of the lemon slices on a dish in front of them, and finally swallowed a small amount of the clear tequila. He appeared to hold this mixture in his mouth for a few moments before swallowing, his nose wrinkling slightly as he did so.
"Wow, that's good stuff! It's been awhile since I had any of that. Come on, Jill, you try it now!" He took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and licking the back of her hand with his warm tongue and then scattering salt over it. The auburn-haired young woman gave a little gasp, surprised at the strong tremor that ran through her body at the touch of his moist wet tongue on her sensitive flesh.
"Now taste that, and then the lemon and tequila – but don't swallow yet," he instructed, smiling in excited anticipation as he thought of what the tequila coupled with a few pipes would do to this already slightly intoxicated American girl. "Okay, now swallow."
Jill followed his directions with a wry wrinkling of her pretty face. It didn't taste bad, just very, very sharp. Then, moments after the powerful alcohol entered her system, she began to feel its relaxing effect.
"It's very strange…" she said slowly. "I… I think I like it."
"You'll like this too!" the handsome Dane promised, lifting a red and gold enamel pipe from his pocket.
"Oh, I don't think so," Jill protested, her unpleasant memories of last night returning with a rush.
"You don't smoke?" Erik asked in the same incredulous was Dizzy's friends had done. "Why not?"
"Well… I feel so drunk already…" Jill hedged, not wanting to talk about her real reasons for fearing the mind-distorting drug.
"All the more reason why you should have a smoke," he declared. "The effects counteract each other – the alcohol deadens your perception, but the hash heightens it."
This explanation seemed too logical to argue against. After all, she was afraid she'd be really drunk if she finished the tequila… perhaps just one pipe wouldn't hurt. Last night she'd smoked too many to keep track of, and that was probably why she'd reacted so strongly. "Well, okay," she agreed.
Erik lighted the pipe, a happy grin on his handsome features, then passed it to Jill who inhaled deeply and managed not to cough.
I never used to be this way, the troubled redhead was thinking even as she drew the pungent smoke into her lungs. It seems that now anyone can talk me into doing things that I know are wrong. Why didn't I just go on home early like I told myself I would? Something's wrong with me…
Then her thoughts faded as the overload of intoxicants melted her brain into the same formless pulp of sensation she'd experienced last night. Tonight, due to the exotic overload of sensory stimuli in the Morocco-inspired clubroom, her reaction was even stronger. "I feel so strange…" she murmured to Erik. "Have some more tequila," he suggested helpfully, leaning very close to her and almost whispering into her ear. As he moved nearer, Jill felt the first obscene flames of desire flickering through her body.
Oh no… Oh God, no! It's happening again, and I don't think I can even move, the distressed young redhead thought to herself. Nevertheless, she did not try to pull away from Erik as he once again licked the back of her hand and sprinkled salt on it.
"I'm taking you to Marrakesh ooooooonnnnnnn the traaaain, ooooooonnnnnnn the traaaain."
Jill began to giggle, her serious introspective thoughts dispersed by the second swallow of tequila. "We're already in Marrakesh," she laughed, "but we came in a taxi!"
Erik laughed with her, overjoyed that she had not tried to pull away her hand which he still held after assisting her with her tequila. He was feeling pretty loose himself, this was some place Lars had set up all right!
"After we finish this drink, let's go upstairs and meet my friend, Lars Jensen," he suggested, glancing at his watch. It was almost time for the show to begin! "Jensen?" Jill asked rather blankly. "Yeah, he's the guy who runs this place. He'll probably be able to tell you lots of useful things about night life in Copenhagen," the scheming young man added.
"Oh… okay…" the intoxicated law student agreed. Actually, she'd quite forgotten about her research for the moment, and she didn't think she really wanted to remember it – it only made her feel guilty about the appointment she'd missed and the books she hadn't yet opened. But she supposed it was her duty to talk to this man, and even though she was perfectly happy sitting where she was, it seemed easier to do what Erik wanted rather than to argue about it.
So the couple finished their drinks, smoked another pipe, and then somewhat unsteadily mounted the carpeted steps to the second story of Club 33, and started down the long corridor toward the door at the end. With eager fingers Erik turned the knob – but it was locked. Goddamn it, his watch must be off! Shit, he'd blown a perfect opportunity, the American girl was in just the right condition to get all hot and turned-on by a sex show. Goddamn the fucking Japanese who'd made his watch! The frustrated blond man tried pounding on the heavy wood-paneled door, although he knew it was no use; the room was securely sound-proofed. What the hell was he going to do now? Jill stood beside the angrily pounding Dane, wondering what all the fuss was about. Actually, she didn't quite understand much of what was going on, nor did she particularly care. She was floating in a cloud of drug and alcohol-induced euphoria, and couldn't bring herself to consider anything else seriously.
"I know!" Erik cried out suddenly. He'd just remembered that there was a closed circuit television in Jensen's office. His friend would, of course, be inside the auditorium with the other spectators watching to see how the show was going, and he was sure they wouldn't be disturbed in the office at this time of night. Perfect! This was going to be far better than watching the show in a room crowded with other people!
The excited Danish man took Jill's hand and hurried back along the corridor to a door that stood slightly ajar just at the top of the stairs. "Perhaps Lars is in here," he explained to her as he led her into the room.
The office wasn't very large, but its opulence more than compensated for its small size. There was a huge mahogany desk cluttered with papers and books. A couple of leather Danish-modern armchairs, a matching couch, several lamps, and a color television were scattered about the room, and the wide windows were draped with a modernistic Finnish-made material that complimented the plush green carpet. On the walls hung several erotic posters, and a huge vase of flowers stood on a mahogany bar covered with a large number of bottles.
"Guess he's not here," Erik said rather unnecessarily, licking his lips in anticipation. "We might as well sit here and wait for him. You want a drink?"
"Sure," Jill said. She'd reached the point of intoxication where she stopped considering what the effects of more alcohol on her system might be. Sinking down gratefully on the soft leather sofa, she stared around the room. "A TV!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen Danish TV – can we turn it on?"
"Why not?" Erik said. His voice betrayed his lewd excitement, but the young auburn-haired girl was too drunk and stoned to take any notice. Hastily assembling the lemons, salt, and tequila for their drinks, he switched on the wide-screen television. Then he settled down beside her on the expensive leather couch and extracted a red and gold pipe from his pocket.
"Might as well have another smoke, too," he said, lighting the little pipe and passing it to the curvaceous young girl who was staring at the television screen waiting for the picture to focus. When it finally did, Jill nearly dropped the hashish-filled object in her astonishment.
As the screen cleared, two voluptuous blondes dressed only in sheer black brassieres and bikini panties were dancing in a lewd, insinuating way around a small stage. Around the platform sat a number of people, mostly men but also a number of women, all peering intently at the undulating young girls. Rock music with a loud drum beat poured from the television, and there was a sort of flickering light show on the wall behind the stage.
"Not too much like American TV, is it?" Erik asked, inching cautiously toward the shocked young redhead. "This is the kind of shows we have late at night, when the kids are in bed," he added, taking full delight in the obvious effect his clever deception was having on her.
Jill opened her mouth to reply, then gasped instead as she saw the two attractive young dancers begin to remove their skimpy brassieres while the audience murmured in audible excitement. Their large, pink-nippled breasts swayed obscenely as they moved in time to the provocative music, and then one of the nearly-naked girls reached down to pick up – oh my God, could it be true – a dildo! The gaping American girl stared unbelievingly, hoping that it was just a hallucination dreamed up by her hashish and alcohol saturated mind; but there was no denying the fact that the girl was running the obscene instrument over her full, high-set breasts. So intently was Jill watching the provocative spectacle spinning before her glazed eyes that she didn't realize that Erik had draped his arm around her shoulders and was fondling her bare upper arm.
"You're so soft… so soft and beautiful," he whispered into her ear. Her body was quivering beneath him, but she still did not move away or protest as his eager hand gently traced the outline of her full breast. The pace of her breathing quickened, while her eyes remained glued in a mesmerized disbelief to the color TV screen.
"It must feel good, what they're doing," he murmured, following Jill's gaze to see one of the blonde's caressing the other's voluptuous naked body with the pink vibrator. It was just the same kind he'd given the auburn-haired American girl, and he was sure she was thinking of that too. Then the music reached a crescendo and a man appeared upon the stage, his well-muscled, suntanned body completely naked and glistening like a bronze statue.
As the handsome male actor entered, Jill's entire body began to shake uncontrollably. A low moan of heartfelt anguish broke her lips, and she hid her face in her hands, trying to shut out the terrible memories that came flooding back into her mind at the sight of the man's long thick penis sticking straight out from his hair-covered loins. Closing her eyes did not help, of course; the vision of Dizzy's drug-glazed eyes, long unkempt brown hair, and lust-thickened cock standing out from his lean loins was permanently imprinted upon her brain. Not only was the horrified American girl seeing all that she'd done the night before, but her brain, as if in retaliation for the unnatural memory-block, now replayed each obscene detail in slow-motion detail.
"Oh God! Oh no! No, no, no!" Jill groaned. "Noooo!"
"What's the matter?" Erik asked, astonished at the violence of her unexpected outburst. "What's wrong, Jill?"
At the sound of genuine concern in the faintly accented voice of the man beside her, Jill began sobbing in uncontrollable hysteria. All the pent-up worries and guilt of the past few days burst out of her tortured mind like a clumsily opened bottle of champagne, and even Jill herself was amazed at the intensity of her emotion. She'd been brought up to think that crying was something shameful, something that should, if absolutely necessary, be carried out in private. And now look at her – sobbing hysterically in front of a man she'd only known for a few days.
Erik Mortensen didn't know quite what he should do. He himself was quite stoned and a little drunk, but his mind was clear enough to ascertain that the voluptuous girl he'd been seducing was in great distress. Somehow her open show of emotion made him feel closer, more tender toward her, and he felt for the first time a real interest in her welfare rather than a mere physical lust for her voluptuous body. Gathering her trembling body in his strong arms, he began to caress her quivering flesh and murmur soothing words.
"It's all right, just calm down," he said in a low, comforting voice. "Tell me about it, that'll make you feel better."
But Jill shook her long auburn curls vehemently at the suggestion. How could she possibly tell him the perverted things she'd done? She'd rather drop dead!
The Danish man had a shrewd idea that whatever was upsetting the young American student probably had something to do with sex. Her breakdown seemed to have been triggered by the obscene spectacle on the closed-circuit TV in his friend's office, and he remembered how agitated she'd become in the sex shop day before yesterday.
"Has some man done something to hurt you?" he asked softly.
Startled at the way the tall blond Dane seemed to have read her mind, Jill stopped crying and looked up at him. For the first time she realized that she was lying in his arms, but somehow she felt that it was all right. He was being kind to her, and he was, after all, the only real friend she had in this foreign country… the only one who really cared about her.
"How did you know?" she asked, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
"What did he do?" Erik asked in the same calm, low voice. "When did it happen?"
"Last night," Jill sniffed, answering the second question but ignoring the first which still seemed utterly impossible to discuss with anyone, no matter how friendly they were.
"Well, whatever happened, you shouldn't think that sex is always that way," Erik said, continuing to stroke gently along her still-quivering body. "Sex can be very beautiful, it's a natural thing for our bodies to enjoy it. And both of the people should enjoy it… I'll bet he didn't make you feel good," he suggested, again guessing correctly.
"No… no, he didn't," the embarrassed redhead admitted, dropping her tear-reddened green eyes away from his piercing gaze.
"Listen, Jill," Erik said. "I'm going to show you the way sex should be. I'm not going to hurt you – I'm going to make you happy."
Jill stared up at him again, her eyes wide and a troubled frown wrinkling her smooth features. She wanted to believe what he said… wanted to so badly… but she just didn't know what she ought to do. Then a vivid memory of the way her unsatisfied body had felt when Dizzy had left her lying there on the bed made her body tremble with an emotion she now recognized as illicit desire. The idea now fixed itself in her hashish-confused mind that the reason she'd been so troubled lately was merely the way her body had of telling her that she'd been denying its natural needs… needs she'd only allowed herself to notice upon arriving in this strange country.
Whimpering a little, the irresolute redhead stared into the Danish man's deep blue eyes. She wasn't willing to commit herself by admitting it out loud, but she knew now that she would not resist anything he wanted to do to her.
The experienced Dane could tell from the way her tense body relaxed in his arms that she wanted him. Quickly, before she could change her mind, he began to unzip her silky green dress.
"I want to see you naked," he murmured. "I want to see your beautiful body." As he pulled the glossy fabric down over her smooth shoulders to reveal the white-cotton mounds of her brassiere-covered breasts, he felt his long cock jump into instant arousal, throbbing painfully against the tight enclosure of his trousers. Then, unhooking the passive young girl's brassiere, he felt his breath quicken and beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. God, she had beautiful breasts – he'd never seen any quite so perfect before. They were large yet nevertheless firmly uplifted even without a brassiere, and at their proud tips the brown-encircled little pink nipples were already quivering into erectness at the contact of the air-conditioned atmosphere of the modern office. Mortensen stared at them hungrily for a moment, then drew the light summer dress down over her slim waist, flat belly, and firm-fleshed flaring thighs. Finally he pulled the dress over her long well-shaped legs, placed it on one of the leather armchairs, and removed his own garments with fingers that shook in anticipation.
Jill turned to watch as the well-built young man tugged off his clothes, her glazed, uncomprehending eyes mirroring the state of her intoxicated brain. She didn't know if what she was allowing him to do was right, but she did know that she would not try to stop him. Her mind was helpless under the domination of her body's needs, and the bewildered young student felt as though she were in the hands of fate, unable any longer to control her destiny. In a way, she felt quite calm… far different than she had last night with Dizzy. She knew, or hoped she knew – that at least Erik cared about her, that he was trying to help her as well as sate his own obvious lust. Jill's eyes fixed themselves upon his large aroused penis, and to her surprise she felt no fear. Instead, a dull throbbing desire began to beat deep in her belly and a tingle of excitement shot through her aroused vagina. Yes, she wanted this to happen, wanted it more than she'd ever thought possible.
The drug-sensitized woman felt the tall blond man running his eager hands over every inch of her young body, from her long red hair to the tips of her white toes. Erik let his fingers flicker back up over her slender legs to her white nylon panties, inserted his thumbs in the elastic waistband, and teased them down over her now-quivering legs. Every motion he made was slow and deliberate, and at each touch Jill felt her body rippling with sensuous arousal. It feels good, so good, she thought, all vague thoughts of guilt beginning to melt away and then vanishing completely as his warm moist tongue flicked against her voluptuous body in tantalizing strokes up her legs and belly to concentrate on her rose-tipped breasts.
"Ohhh," she moaned as her taut nerves relaxed and her flesh seemed to grow hot and melt under his eager hands.
"It's good, isn't it?" Erik asked softly, sucking one quivering nipple into the hot moist cavern of his mouth. "Your breasts taste so good," he added, the words muffled as he nibbled upon the taut pink aureole.
Jill moaned again, but did not reply. She was not quite ready to admit to him and to herself how much she wanted him to do these things to her. But as his sucking intensified and strong bolts of erotic sensation began shooting through her body, she heard herself sighing, "Oh, yes, yessss, oh Erik, yessss!"
Encouraged by her obvious pleasure, the aroused young man began once again to run his wet tongue over her quivering belly toward the burnished patch of auburn pubic hair. He'd never before seen a pussy adorned by such a color of reddish gold, and this excited him more than ever. She was really a gorgeous woman, it was too bad that she didn't seem to have been told that until now. Yet in a way he was glad he was the first to discover the magnificence of her body; it filled him with the same hungry urgency he'd felt as an adolescent, but he was determined to control his own desires until he'd thoroughly inflamed this lovely girl into uncontrollable passion.
Jill had closed her eyes in pleasure, and then they blinked open in alarm and she gasped as she felt his wetly heated tongue probing among the sparse curling strands of her pussy hair. A vivid picture of the porno magazine photograph where the burly motorcyclist was sucking on the ecstatic girl's hungering vagina flashed through her mind, and she felt her own breath quicken at the thought. Even then she'd wanted it to happen to her, and now it was actually happening. A delicious wave of exhilaration surged through her as she gazed down in fascination at Erik's blond head between her long, ivory-skinned legs.
"Spread your beautiful thighs, Jill," Erik urged. "Let me make you feel better than you ever have in your life."
After a brief moment of hesitation, the trembling girl did as he instructed. Her body, with legs splayed and naked breasts jutting up toward the ceiling, looked so lewdly vulnerable that Jill felt a shiver of shock mixed with erotic excitement at the sight of it. At the same time, she found that she was filled with an ecstatic sense of freedom. I'm doing the most obscene thing possible! she thought to herself. Now I can do anything I want to do – it doesn't matter anymore! It was the same feeling she'd had last night, but this time, reinforced by Erik's gentle persuasion, it was far stronger.
And then, as the muscular man's probing tongue licked a searing path of pleasure along her sensitive pussy slit, all lucid thoughts flew from Jill's already muddled mind. "Ooooooh," she moaned, reaching out her hands to tangle her fingers in Erik's thick blond hair. She was no longer worried that her actions were undoubtedly caused by the inordinate amount of alcohol and hashish she'd consumed, no longer concerned with the morality she'd relinquished, nor with her lapse of will-power. None of these things were of any real consequence compared to the powerfully illicit sensations that were now madly shooting through her entire naked body, and the only thing that really mattered now was that Erik continue to make her feel this way until her pent-up frustration was at last released.
"Oh Erik," she mewled submissively beneath his hard-pressing body, squirming her buttocks against the leather couch as she spoke. "Oh, you make me feel so good!"
The desire-maddened Dane responded to her words by licking his tongue around the tiny bud of her clitoris hidden beneath the moistened folds of her throbbing pink vagina. Her pussy's as lovely as her breasts! he thought with growing excitement as he urged the quivering little clitoris into taut erection with his knowledgeable tongue.
"Baby, you've got the sweetest little cunt I've ever kissed!" he told her as his hands reached up to squeeze and knead the softly quivering mounds of her naked breasts.
His obscene words and the additional provocation of strong hands massaging her susceptive breasts drove Jill half-wild with excitement. Her body seemed to have turned into soft clay which he could manipulate in any way he wanted, and this helpless dependency upon the man lying between her legs called up again much of the masochistic erotic arousal she had experienced last night with Dizzy.
"Kiss it," she groaned, the obscene words tumbling of their own accord from between her lips. "Kiss my vagina. It feels goooooodddddd!"
The handsome Dane could taste the redhead's pungent cuntal juices seeping from her wetly throbbing pussy, and he slid his tongue down her hair-lined slit to tease at the warm moist opening to her vaginal depths. For a few seconds Erik let his tongue linger just at the hot quivering mouth of her vagina, then abruptly pushed his searching tongue deep into the heated depths of her secret cuntal flesh. Her pussy was as tight as he'd hoped it would be and the trembling walls of her orally impaled vagina tensed momentarily around his urgent tongue as she called out his name in an ecstatic voice.
"Oh Erik, Erik, Erik! Don't stop… please don't ever stop…!"
"Don't worry, baby," her blond lover hissed back, "I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue till you see fireworks that make Tivoli look like chicken shit!"
For another few minutes the skillful Dane thrust his long tongue deep into her moisture-drenched vagina, savoring the bitter-sweet taste of her cuntal juices as much as a wine connoisseur relishes a rare old bottle of the finest wine. He knew that she was hopelessly aroused now – he could tell by the pungent taste of her secretions and by the urgency of her lips as they ground insistently against the leather sofa beneath her. The experienced man was surprised at the strength of her reaction, for none of the American girls he'd known (and not many of the Scandinavian girls either) had been so quickly and completely aroused as this hot little piece of ass was. She's been frustrated for too long, he surmised. Well, no more! From now on she's going to get all the loving she needs, I'll see to that!
Unrestrained animalistic noises were spewing from Jill's slender throat as Erik continued to torment her ecstatically quivering pussy. He would plunge in with smooth strokes for a short time, and she'd feel a violent orgasm beginning to develop in her loins. Then he'd pull his tongue out for an agonizing instant, wait for a moment, then swipe at her sensitive pussy lips or her erect little clitoris. Finally, at some unexpected point, he'd plunge his searing tongue back into her hungry vagina and the twinges of approaching orgasm would return, stronger and more enticing after each delay. The nakedly writhing young girl was almost screaming now with lustful anticipation as her climax drew nearer, ever nearer.
Then… just as Jill felt her desire-drenched pussy begin their first tentative spasms of her impending orgasm, a loud angry male voice pierced through the room. The young girl froze, her body stiffening in automatic reaction as fright and shame flooded over her.
"What the Hell's going on in here??!!" the voice blared. The naked couple heard the loud slam of the office door and then footsteps approaching the couch where Erik and Jill lay sprawled in the most blatantly obscene of sexual positions. Two pairs of horrified eyes stared in lust-glazed disbelief at the fully clothed figure of an obviously enraged man.
"Lars!" Erik gasped out weakly as he withdrew his mouth from the wetly quivering confines of Jill's heated young cunt. What was the matter with his friend? Surely he had enough sense not to interrupt at a moment like this, and what on earth was he upset about. Then he caught the almost imperceptible wink of his old friend's eye, and he realized he might as well play along. Obviously Jensen had some clever scheme up his sleeve, and in spite of his own frustrated irritation at being interrupted at this particular moment, Erik trusted his friend's judgment. Lars might have ideas that seemed weird at first, but he wouldn't be a millionaire at the age of thirty-four if he didn't possess some sort of unusual intuition.
"Oh no!" Erik exclaimed, playing along by injecting a note of guilt and fright into his voice. "Oh my God… oh no!"
"So it's you, Erik!" Lars roared. "And I thought you were my friend! Don't you realize that I can lose my license when things like this go on on the premises? This is a respectable club, and I'm not going to have all my profits go down the drain because of idiots like you and this little slut!" The club owner was enjoying playing the role of the outraged moralistic businessman. The part was easy – he just thought of what his stepfather, a respectable farmer on Jutland who had mercifully died before learning just what his stepson was up to in the corrupt capital of Denmark, would have said in a situation like this.
"Get dressed quick!" Erik said to Jill, who was staring in mesmerized bewilderment at the shouting man before them. The blond Dane leaped from the leather couch, and began struggling into his clothes, after tossing Jill's pale green dress and underwear at her.
"I'm sorry, Lars," she said in a tone of false contrition. "I guess we got a little carried away."
"I guess you did! And I hope you're sorry! Do you realize that every week-end this place is crawling with state inspectors? What if one of them had happened to walk in here? What then?"
"Yeah, what then? He'd want to join in on the fun and games," Erik wanted to retort, but he thought better of it. Could it be possible that his friend was actually telling the truth? He really wasn't quite sure just what the laws were about clubs like this. "I'm really sorry, Lars…" he began, buckling his belt and glancing worriedly at the young American girl who was struggling into her dress with a dazed expression of abject shame on her flushed face. Damn it all, he thought, I never even gave her the orgasm I promised her! He realized suddenly that he had come to care very deeply for this lovely auburn-haired woman. What had started out as pure lust had grown into something far stronger, something he'd rarely experienced in his nihilistic bachelor existence.
"You better be sorry!" Lars Jensen shouted in simulated rage. "And you – you little whore," he shifted his blazing eyes to the cringing young redhead. "You get the hell out of here before I throw you out! Here's your taxi fare!" he handed her a bill, "Now get moving!" The terrified young girl took the money he thrust into her trembling hand and rushed from the room, not daring even to glance at Erik. In spite of the powerful combination of sexual frustration, hashish and alcohol, her body reacted swiftly and instinctively enough to allow her to dash pell-mell along the corridor and down the stairs. The club manager followed her out the door and yelled at her fleeing body.
"And I want to see you here tomorrow at eight, then I'll decide what to do about you. And if you don't show up you'll be good and sorry, I promise you that!"
The corrupt sex-club owner slammed the door to his office shut, the sound of it reverberating like the voice of doom in Jill's confused mind as she pushed her way out of the crowded building and fell into one of the taxis waiting outside Club 33.
If she could have seen Lars Jensen at that very moment, leaning against the door of his office and laughing till the tears ran down his cheeks, she'd have felt more perplexed than ever.