‘No, it’s not short for Kristopher. It’s Krissette.’ Kriss pulled a napkin from a container on the table and picked up a pen a waiter had left behind. ‘It’s spelled K-R-I-S-S-E-T-T-E.’ Kriss shrank back in his seat. The fascination on the new boy’s face was evident, it was so clear. Whether it was Krissette’s green eyes or his dark skin couldn’t really be told. Kriss had new boy’s complete attention, nothing could distract him, not the party of people that suddenly entered the café, nor the new profound silence that fell over the café as all eyes became fixed on the two. Krissette had his hair pulled back. ‘I like it. It fits you. It matches your gentle eyes, your skin, even the way you always wear your hair pulled back.’ The new boy tilted his head as he examined Kriss. ‘Always?’ Kriss was confused, had the new boy been watching him? The two were suddenly silent. The silence ended and the crowd in the café suddenly resumed its gibberish-like upheaval, that was so gentle one could. A strong girl, broad across the butt and shoulders, she went ten stone at least. She pushed back against my grip, made an odd sound in her throat and then kissed me again, hard. I tasted blood and didn't know if it was mine or hers. Didn't care neither."Komma," she whispered, "come," pulling away, grabbing my hand and not caring if her heavy robe fell open. Up the front stairs she trotted, braids bouncing, hips swaying, pulling me along. I didn't take much persuading. At the end of the dark corridor, where the rough-hewed beams stood low, black with age, the big Swede pushed open a narrow door and tugged me into her dim room. I ducked my head to follow her. She leaned back to throw the bolt and kissed me again while I was bent over, letting me feel her body as she brushed past, rubbing a shoulder and hip against me before putting her cold mouth on mine and the tip of her tongue on my lips.Her board-paneled room felt like an old cistern though it smelled some better, more like leaf.
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