Arctic Night

It wasn't a chaste kiss. It was straight on, lips on lips, passionate kiss, burning with a fire that ignited all the pent up passion Bríd had ever had towards Katja, and she answered eagerly. Their kiss deepened and they groped each other, hungrily, pulling clothes off each other with increasing haste. Bríd's heart was thumping, she was half certain she was imagining this, like maybe this was another dream, although she had never been this afraid or this hysteric with laughter in a dream before. Or maybe she was misinterpreting something, although how one could misinterpret the lust Katja radiated was difficult to say. Katja pulled Bríd's shirt up to nuzzle her face between Bríd's breasts, letting out a moan that spoke of such contentment, such fulfillment of need, that Bríd couldn't doubt it anymore.

Katja pulled Bríd's pants down with amazing force and such haste that she left them dangling around one ankle. She pushed Bríd's thighs open and pushed her nose straight into Bríd's mons, inhaling deeply and making an approving mumble. Katja kissed her pussy, hungrier by the second, and all objections that had bubbled into her mind about how she hadn't showered in the morning fled from Bríd's mind. She raised her hips to Katja's hot and eager mouth, moaning and matching her intensity. Katja held her thighs, then started to ease her hand closer, all the while kissing Bríd's opening with increasing tongue. She nuzzled Bríd's clit, kissed her opening again, then again, and just when Bríd was trembling in anticipation of feeling her fingers, Katja let out an exasperated noise.

"Voi vittu," she murmured against Bríd's vulva. She kissed once more, lingering, then sighed and raised her head to see Bríd. "I need to wash hands," she said morosely. "I clean fishes, I have to wash hands."

Bríd had trouble processing her words. Her breathing was fast and her breasts rose and fell between them, between their eyes that met across the length of her torso. Air felt cool on her overheated, exposed pussy which was throbbing with anticipation. "I... well..."

"Oh fuck, first things first," Katja said and bent back down with abandon. She kissed and sucked and teased, all the while keeping a grip of both Bríd's thighs, probably to remind herself not to touch her sensitive parts with fishy hands. The added effect was that Bríd couldn't squirm to avoid her attack, and quickly she was panting, rubbing against Katja's face. Her orgasm was building, fast and furious, and she arched her back, twisting and moaning when it hit her. Katja held fast, easing up slowly, prolonging her satisfaction.

"Oh yes," Katja whispered and kissed Bríd's clitoris lightly, making her jump. "That's it."

Katja got up with a nimble movement and strode to the sink. She soaped up her hands, rubbing them with impatient, jerky movements. Bríd lay on the carpet, her chest still heaving with her breath, and looked at Katja's slim back, how her hips curved, the arch of her buttocks. She was astonished by the speed and intensity of her orgasm. The fire inside her hadn't diminished at all. The scent of her own pussy lingered around her, with a fainter undertone of fishy smell Katja's hands had rubbed on her skin. She was suddenly dying to know what Katja smelled like.

Bríd rolled over, to her side, then pushed up on her hands and knees and crawled over to the sink. She kneeled behind Katja, taking a grip of her hips, and pushed her nose to the small opening between her upper thighs. Katja squealed in surprise, then widened her stance and pushed her ass out, exposing herself. Bríd did as Katja had done and pressed her nose against Katja, against her taint, and inhaled deeply. Katja's scent was strong and tangy, and her pussy made a wet sound when she moved slightly and moaned. Bríd twiddled her tongue around just in and around Katja's opening, her own pussy responding with a twitch to each moan she drew from her.

Katja tried to lean on the sink, almost fell as her soapy hands slipped, and she let out a sharp curse--"Perkele!"--and turned the tap on to rinse them. All the while she kept her pussy against Bríd, pushing back towards her mouth, and never once did Bríd consider stopping. Katja gasped as Bríd explored her, but when she tried to move towards her clit Katja stopped her.

"In... inside... with fingers," she gasped.

Bríd complied. She pulled her head back, pushing a finger into Katja's sopping pussy, then two. Katja's whimpering and enthusiastic responsive movement encouraged her to push deeper, harder. Bríd picked up the pace, marveling on the slick, wet sounds and the view of her fingers plowing into Katja, the heat and texture of her. She was bugged that she couldn't get to Katja's clitoris with her mouth, but soon realized she could still touch it. She changed hands, invoking a frustrated moan from Katja when she withdrew and then delighted moan when she pressed back inside with her left hand, and when Bríd searched for her clit with her slippery fingers her whimpers pitched higher.

Katja came almost as fast as Bríd had done. She grabbed the sink to stay upright and let out a strangled shout, her thighs trembling, clenching and unclenching around Bríd's fingers. Bríd didn't pull out until the last of Katja's orgasm subsided, leaving her leaning on the sink, her breath as irregular as Bríd's a moment ago. Bríd stroked at her ass, slowly, wondering how they'd continue from here.

Katja answered it for her. She turned around, stumbled and almost fell, then laughed.

"To bed, come," she said and extended a hand to pull Bríd up. Together they pulled the covers and snuggled on Katja's bed. Katja pulled her close, stroking her hair and cheek, letting her breath steady. Just as Bríd thought this might be it, that maybe Katja had now worked the bear fright out of her system, Katja rolled towards her and kissed her deeply. "Ready to again?" Katja whispered against her lips, and Bríd nodded, enthusiastically.

Much later they lay in bed, finally sated or else too tired to continue, still naked. Bríd caressed Katja's face slowly, counting the freckles, kissing each one with her fingertips.

"I didn't know you liked women," Bríd said quietly.

"I didn't know you liked me," Katja countered and smiled. Bríd loved the smile, the small gap between her front teeth.

"But, you knew I liked women? How come you didn't try anything earlier?"

Bríd was a little bothered by the fact that they could have shared this for months already. She wondered when Katja had picked up on her, and why she hadn't acted on it. The whole line of questions filled her with self doubts and uncertainty.

"There's a time for everything," Katja said.

"Time to live and time to die?"

"Time to almost get eaten by bear and time to fuck."

"Is that what this was to you? Just a fuck?"

"Ssh," Katja said. "No just fuck." She wove her fingers into Bríd's hair, beside her ear, and pulled her into a long, slow, tender kiss.

"But... then..."

"I love you."

"But... what? Then why didn't you do something earlier?"

Katja looked at her, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. "Love no need fucking. Can love without words."

Bríd's head was swimming. "But, I'm going to leave."

"I leave before."

"What? Where?"

"Home. To Finland. You leave October, I leave September."

Bríd felt even more disoriented. She wondered why she had assumed Katja lived up here permanently. They had never discussed it, and Bríd had known she wasn't from around here, but still. Maybe it was because Katja seemed so at home here, when she herself was still so alien, so foreign, after spending months here. So touristy.

Maybe Katja's thoughts followed the same patterns, because she broke into laughter again.

"'They are so cute!' Seriously!"

Katja collapsed in giggles. Bríd tried to act dignified, but couldn't, and a grin spread on her face as well. It had truly been a dazzlingly stupid thing to say.

--#--#--#--#--

They tried to make up for lost time, spending all their time together, fucking like bunnies. Bríd didn't write, Katja didn't do her research. At first they hardly slept, then slowly their life surfaced into some kind of new balance again. It still had more than a hint of obsession.

As summer progressed, and the date of Katja's departure grew closer, Bríd got more and more anxious. She didn't worry about her unfinished book: she had the ending, it was only a matter of typing it down. This relationship, though. She saw the end of it, and she didn't want it. She wanted them to stay in this suspense forever, here between the vast sea and rough stony peaks, under the stupidly blue sky and sun that never set, forever shielding themselves against the wind. Just the two of them. So fulfilled by one another.

One morning she was particularly grumpy. They sat on the stairs of Katja's cabin, looking across to the sea. They were wrapped in blankets, although for once wind blew from behind the cabin so that they were a calm spot. Coffee was strong, black and steaming. Sun was high and almost warm. Massive flocks of seabirds screeched and fished just a little off the coast, filling the air with their ruckus.

"What is it?" Katja asked.

"It feels such a waste!" Bríd said. "We could have had this for months! And now it's only a few weeks!"

Katja gave her one of those blank looks she had trouble interpreting. It could be she didn't understand what Bríd was saying, or it could be she was thinking about it, or it could be she thought it was stupid and was too polite to say. Bríd looked at her eyes, so deep blue, glimmering like the sea stretching endlessly across from them.

"There is... rytmi... to things, to life," Katja said. "Rhythm? Things happen when they happen. No can go faster, no can go slower."

"But we could have had this for months!"

"Or then not," Katja said. "It is... things need to... grow. Then they happen."

"But what will happen now? Will we ever see each other again?"

Katja looked at her again. "You want to?"

"Well, yes! I don't want to lose you!"

"You cannot lose me."

Bríd let out an exasperated noise. Sometimes Katja was like this mystic sage, letting out sentences that made sense on the surface but not really.

"See, Bríd, we have this," --Katja gestured over the landscape--"and we have this," --she touched Bríd's cheek lightly, her fingers hot from holding the coffee cup--"and that will always be with us from now on. Always."

They looked at each other, and a devilish smile spread on Katja's face, from her eyes outwards. "You want more to remember me by?"

Bríd couldn't help smiling. "I have to say, I do."

They went inside to make more memories.

--#--#--#--#--

Bríd cried at the airport. She had tried to prep herself to not do that, but she couldn't help it. Katja didn't berate her, she just hushed her, held her, wiped her tears. Their last kiss was salty. Bríd usually didn't care for public displays of affection, but now she was beyond caring, and the kiss stretched on and on.

Bríd watched Katja walk away, her fluid movement, so purposeful and effortless. She didn't turn until at the very last possible moment, before vanishing beyond security control. Bríd wasn't sure, but it looked like her cheeks were wet as well. She blew one last kiss at Bríd, and disappeared from her life.

Bríd's last few weeks in Svalbard were lonely. The empty landscape felt infinitely more empty now that she knew Katja's cabin stood unoccupied. Nothing happened, and for the first time the isolation and uneventfulness started to get to her. The very things she had so cherished when she first arrived now irritated her. She started to count the days for her departure. For the first time she felt homesick and started imagining going back to her apartment, her routines, the corner cafe she frequented, the nosy clerks there.

Katja had left one of her woolen jumpers behind, Bríd found it under her bed one day. It was gray and had an elaborate cable-knitted pattern on its front. Bríd clutched it to her chest, trying to catch Katja's scent off it. Katja always wore wool, whereas Bríd had fleece jumpers and different types of thermal sets. Once Bríd had asked her about it, and she had just shrugged and said, "Wool is good, is like wearing a hug."

Bríd looked at the jumper, modeled it over her front, then took off her fleece jacket and pulled the jumper on. It was very warm. Soft. Smelled distantly of Katja. It was like wearing a hug. Bríd wore nothing else for weeks afterwards.

Bríd finished her book. The ending was easy, it came out almost like she had imagined it, and she felt a sense of completion when she had pressed the last period in place and leaned back to look at her creation. There'd be endless editing and revising, but the meat and bones were in place, and all else was purely cosmetics. She had achieved what she came here to do. She was done.

Days got rapidly shorter, and when Bríd boarded the plane that would take her back to civilization, she was mostly relieved she didn't have to go through another stretch of dream-like eternal darkness on this barren, wind-swept strand.

The transition to her old normal was surprisingly painless. She got used to the conveniences of her normal life so quickly it astonished her, and she had a new calm inside her, new appreciation of all things mundane. She had thought of arranging a trip to Europe as soon as possible, but the editing process and planning the publication got her swept in and slowly the urge faded. She got immersed in her old life and its routines sucked her in so that Svalbard started to feel like a distant dream again, and with it, Katja.

She and Katja had each other's contact information, and exchanged emails. Katja's written English was very different from her spoken one; much more verbose and complex, better formatted, and she even seemed to expose more of herself this way. Still, it didn't really feel like her. Bríd missed the blank looks she used to give, the way she formulated her cryptic remarks, the way she'd substitute English words with Finnish or Norwegian ones. She missed seeing her, touching her, sleeping with her. She had frequent dreams about her, and some of them were x-rated.

They never discussed meeting each other again, neither one suggested anything towards that goal. Their correspondence fluctuated, sometimes consisting of multiple emails per day, sometimes going weeks in between until one or the other reached out again.

Years passed.

--#--#--#--#--

Bríd was traveling to Europe. She had a series of book promoting occasions to attend to, spanning Great Britain and Germany. She mentioned it to Katja, and although she responded to the email, she didn't comment on it.

Bríd left the date of her return open. She considered traveling to Scandinavia after her tour, but was a little offended Katja didn't invite her over.

The first few occasions established a routine, and after a while she could focus on the audience more than her speech. She was one of the participants in a panel discussion in a bookstore in London, when, sweeping the audience, her heart jolted as her eyes fixed upon a familiar face.

Katja.

She looked almost exactly the same, albeit more civilized. She stood behind others, so Bríd couldn't see what she was wearing, but her jacket looked like something less outdoorsy than the waterproof parkas she'd worn year round in Svalbard. She smiled, and Bríd smiled back, then tried to concentrate on what the host was saying in case she needed to comment.

Afterwards, Bríd went to seek her out. She stood where she had been, waiting for her. They looked at each other, smiling. Up close Katja looked a little older, there were a few new gray strands in her dark hair, lines around her eyes were a bit more pronounced. But it was her, she was the same, exactly the same, and without a word they hugged each other. Tightly.

"Oh my god!" Bríd said. "I can't believe you came!"

"Of course I came to see you. How could I not?"

Katja cupped Bríd's cheeks with her hands, pressed a small kiss on her lips.

"Do you have time to go for a walk?"

Bríd looked around, a little flustered by the kiss. Nobody was waiting to talk to her, and she didn't have other engagements for today.

"Yes, yes I do," she said. "Let's go."

They walked slowly along the streets until they came to the riverside, then continued along it. They were holding hands. It was difficult to find topics to talk about. They started on something, then after a while tapered off again.

"Hey, what happened to your accent?" Bríd asked, when it suddenly dawned on her that Katja's pronounced accent had greatly diminished in the three years they hadn't talked to each other.

"I take lessons," Katja replied.

"You took lessons? You know, if you did in the past, it's 'took'," Bríd said.

"I take lessons," she replied, and smiled that crooked, impish smile Bríd remembered so well. She could never really tell whether Katja was making fun of her or not.

"But why?" Bríd asked. "Are you planning on traveling to the States?"

"To talk with you, of course," Katja said and her smile widened, bringing out the dimples.

For once, Bríd was at a loss of words. After leaving Svalbard, they had never discussed meeting again. She had hoped to, but her ideas had been vague, dream-like. Katja was the more practical one, as attending English classes demonstrated, but she had never brought it up.

"But, you didn't invite me over, even when I was coming to Europe."

It wasn't exactly a question. Bríd wasn't quite sure what the question was.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Katja said and smiled. "I wanted to see you see me."

"Oh? Well did it work out the way you intended?"

"It did."

Katja didn't elaborate. Some things about her hadn't changed, she was as cryptic as ever. Bríd thought back to when their eyes had met over the heads of the crowd in the bookstore. How her heart had thrown a summersault in her chest, how they had smiled at each other. She had no doubt Katja had felt it as well.

"So... you flew all the way over here, from Finland, to surprise me?"

"From Norway. We live in Oslo now. I work at the university there, as does Björn."

"Björn?"

"Yes, Björn," Katja said. "My man. It means 'a bear', I think it's a funny name."

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Bríd's stomach. She felt like pulling her hand away, but didn't, it felt a little childish. What had she thought, that Katja lived like a nun in her absence, like... like she herself did. But... a man?

"But... but... I thought you were into women."

She felt stupid saying that. Katja looked at her, blue eyes as clear and inscrutable as ever.

"I'm into you," she said. "I'm into Björn."

Shiver went down Bríd's back. She wanted to say it isn't that simple, that you need to choose a side and stick to it, or at least identify yourself as bisexual. Yet, Katja's stance had a clarity to it, simplicity that needed no labels. "I'm into you, I'm into Björn." The way she said it implied total sureness, and that there was no need to choose or differentiate. She wanted Björn, she wanted her, and it was as unquestionable to her as the rest of her life.

Bríd let her gaze sweep the river, conflicting ideas swirling in her head when she grasped for something to say. Finally she looked back to Katja, whose blue eyes were still set on her.

"I guess it's better for you," Bríd said grumpily. "To have someone near like that."

"I have you near me," Katja said and tapped her chest. "Right here."

"Yes but it's not enough!" Bríd said, impatiently. "It's different!"

"It is what it is," Katja said. "It's okay."

Bríd wanted to argue, but let Katja pull her into her arms.

"So, will you come home with me, after this?"

"To your and Björn's home?"

"Yes. Come visit. Stay. See Norway with me. You can't say you haven't missed it."