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.