Matilde in the World of Media & Art

"It's not my video!"

"Okay, let's say that. But you're in it. How does it feel? Are you proud?"

"No."

"Come on! It's a little flattering? Isn't it?"

"No!"

"Is it embarrassing?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm asking you about your feelings."

"Excuse me!" Erik, the photographer, breaks in. "I have to leave for another assignment. Would you mind just walking slowly down the street in front of me, Matilde?"

I finish my wine, put out my cigarette and get up to walk slowly down the pavement with my phone, cigarette case, keys and credit card in my hand. The photographer follows me for some meters. Then he shouts "Stop!" and starts directing me:

"Please look at me over your left shoulder! Turn a little more to the right! And don't forget to smile! Could you please bend your right knee and stand on one leg only? Yeah! Right there! That's beautiful! Really hot!"

Hot? I don't mean to be hot. I just want to be friendly and forthcoming in explaining that I'm not a porn model but a victim of cynical blackmail.

My phone rings. I stop posing to look at the display. It's Birgit. I answer it at once and Erik keeps taking pictures of me. I just manage to say my name. Then the connection is gone, the display turned black. My phone is out of battery.

"Fuck!" I say. This was not supposed to happen. I promised Birgit that she could reach me.

"I think I got what I need. Thank you!" Erik says and waves to Jonas Jørgensen at the table while grabbing his phone to call a cab. I return to the journalist who just bought me another glass of wine:

"You looked thirsty the way you finished your first glass. So I took precautions and bought you another one."

He pauses to give me a chance to express my gratitude. I don't take it.

"Did you get bad news on the phone, Matilde?"

"No. It's my battery. It went dead."

"Oh. That's a pity. If you need to call somebody, you can use mine," he offers, waving his iPhone.

"No. It doesn't matter. It's not important," I lie.

I'm not going to use his phone and let him know which number I'm calling. I sit down and gulp some wine before lighting another cigarette. The interrogation continues:

"There is this rumour that you're living with your 18-year-old boyfriend who was your student until three years ago."

"I don't know where you heard that...," I say, exhaling smoke.

"Well... for obvious reasons I can't reveal my sources. But are you living with your 18-year-old former student?"

"No. That's not true."

"Are you in a relationship with your 18-year-old former student?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Did you ever have a sexual relation with a former student who was much younger than you?"

"I'm not going to comment on that."

"I take that as a yes."

"No. You don't. You can take it as a that's-none-of-your-fucking-business!"

"So... a yes!"

"No."

"And the abortion you had this January... Was that the first time you terminated a pregnancy?"

I inhale deeply while contemplating my options. Then I say, exhaling:

"I think I will have to give you the same answer here."

"So... it's a 'no, it was not my first abortion'?"

"No! It's another that's-none-of-your-fucking-business!"

"You've got to help me a little here, Matilde!" Jonas Jørgensen smiles at me. "Peter Christensen has been extremely open and honest in his answers. And if you want your side of the story to be reflected, I need a little honesty from you too."

I smoke in silence, sipping wine.

"You're not making this easy... for yourself," he continues. "But at least we got the pictures. The stills from the video would have been too grainy to print in a big format anyway, but these will be amazing. I think we've got ourselves a nice front page story here. Do you know you're extremely photogenic, Matilde?"

I exhale a large plume of smoke in Jonas Jørgensen's direction, saying nothing.

"And by the way: I like those glasses. They're sexy," he adds.

I get up and pick up my stuff from the table:

"I think we're done here."

"Oh... That's completely up to you, Matilde. I really like to talk to you. Too bad you leave me with all these unanswered questions..."

"That's life!" I say, flipping ash off my cigarette.

"Yeah. I suppose so. I think it'll make a good piece in the paper anyway."

"Okay."

I'm tripping impatiently now, eager to leave Jonas Jørgensen and plug in my phone to call Birgit.

"One last question, Matilde. I was wondering if we could meet later tonight, after deadline, like in... three hours... to sort of evaluate the project...? I could show you the layout, how it will look in the paper. And maybe we could get to know each other on a more personal level?"

First he tries to ruin my career. Then he comes on to me. Unbelievable!

"No. That's not possible. I have a date with my boyfriend now."

"Oh! You do have a boyfriend. Tell me about him! How old is he?"

"Goodnight!" I reply and turn around without shaking Jonas Jørgensen's hand.

I hurry back to my apartment, stump out my cigarette on the pavement outside my building and run up the stairs to the fifth floor. I plug in the phone. After a minute or so I manage to switch it on.

"Finally! Why did you hang up? I told you I wanted to be able to get hold of you," Birgit says, answering my call.

"It's that stupid battery."

"So why didn't you keep your phone plugged in."

"I was just down the street. At a local cafe."

"Did you go out? Have you been drinking, Matilde?"

"No... Yes. Two glasses of wine. It was these people from Ekstra Bladet. They wanted to hear my side of the story."

"And you talked to them?"

"Yes. Otherwise they would have based their story entirely on Peter Christensen. And I didn't want that."

"I think you made a big mistake, Matilde. This will not make it any easier for any of os."

"I'm sorry!"

"Why didn't you call me when they contacted you?"

"It was after seven. You were in that meeting. I called a friend who's a lawyer. And he advised me to try to get through to Ekstra Bladet with my version of things."

"Well... In a few hours we'll know how that plays out in the paper. I fear the worst!"

"How was the board meeting?"

"I defended you like a lioness. Actually I had to put my job on the line and insist that it's my privilege to hire and fire teachers. But obviously it's the board's decision to hire and fire the school principal."

"Thank you, Birgit!" I say and reach for my cigarettes.

"Bottom line is that Peter Christensen marched out in protest. He leaves the board and he takes his daughter to another school. And he claims to have at least a handful of families who will do the same thing."

"Oh..."

I light my cigarette.

"Yes. This is going to cost us. So if we don't manage to find other students, we may have to cut the budget next year. In the end I may have to fire someone."

"I feel terrible, Birgit. I don't know what to say."

"No. I'm not in a super mood myself. But now Peter Christensen is gone. There is nothing more we can do tonight."

We end our conversation and while finishing my cigarette, I decide to go out and get something to drink. I'm going to put my idea of looking like a 1940s spinster librarian and Jonas Jørgensen's contrary characterization of my glasses as "sexy" to a test.

It turns out he's right. After 20 minutes and one and a half tequilas at some inner city bar I've picked up this married 40-year-old software engineer, Steffen, who urgently wants to commit adultery with me while his wife and two kids are conveniently visiting his in-laws in Jutland.

"Is it a problem to you that I'm married?" he asks in the taxi back to my place.

"To me? No. It probably should be to you. But to me it's no problem," I say and let him taste my smoker's breath in a long, wet kiss.

Upstairs, in my bed, I take off my glasses and light the 19^th of the 20 Marlboros in the pack I bought at 4 o'clock.

"Do you like to watch me smoke?" I ask, exhaling. Steffen clearly is a non-smoker. But maybe he likes to watch smoking women.

"What do you mean? Why should I like to watch you smoke? I like to watch you, because you're beautiful."

"Thank you," I smile, at I suck my cigarette and inhale deeply.

"But I don't particularly like to watch you smoke. Right now I find your smoking a little annoying. Because it sort of gets in the way of us having sex."

"I can do both."

"What do you mean?"

I get on my knees beside Steffen and take his dick into my mouth, working it with my tongue for some time. Then I make eye contact and take a deep drag, blowing out the smoke on his increasingly hard dick before putting it back inside my mouth.

After taking my next inhale I ask him:

"You like it?"

"Yeah. I like it a lot. And I think it shows, doesn't it."

"So you like me giving you a smoking blowjob?"

"I really like getting a blowjob from you. But don't you think the cigarette gets in the way of the blowjob. I mean... I would like you to focus on my dick rather than on your cigarette."

"Okay. If that's how you feel."

I lean toward the ashtray and put out my cigarette after a final inhale and lie down beside Steffen, exhaling smoke up into the air.

"What about my tattoos?"

"What about them?"

"Well... Do they turn you on?"

"I don't know... I'm not into tattoos, really. I mean yours are massive and... interesting. But not sexy per se. What caught my attention at the bar was your pretty face and the way your hair was pulled back in a bun."

"Really?"

"Yes. And... can I ask you one thing?"

"Sure!"

"Could you wear your glasses while we fuck? I'd really like to fuck you with your glasses on."

"You would? So you have a glasses fetish?"

"I find beautiful women with glasses extremely sexy. Particularly glasses with a heavy frame like yours."

"You know I don't need them, right? My vision is perfect. It's just fake glasses."

"I thought so. Would you please wear them while I fuck you?"

I pick up the glasses with a smile and sit on top on him, letting his big, stone-hard dick slide into my wet pussy. I'm having great sex with this glasses fetishist for about an hour before I smoke the last cigarette in the pack post coitus, take off the glasses with Steffen's permission and fall asleep next to him.

2.

Saturday, May 16^th:

Next thing I know, Steffen is out of bed, getting dressed.

"Are you leaving?" I ask sleepily, silently wondering if I, despite last night's very pleasant sex, actually would like him to leave me alone now.

He smiles broadly at me:

"I'm going down to buy some fresh bread. I checked your fridge. I think that bread is all we need for breakfast. Do you want anything else?"

"Yeah. I really need some cigarettes. Would you buy a pack of Marlboro Reds for me?"

"Sure! I'll be right back."

I plug in my phone. As it comes to life, it turns out that Jonas Jørgensen has called me twice between 1 and 2 a.m. I wonder if these were professional or private calls. And whether there is actually a difference for a guy like Jonas Jørgensen.

Steffen rings the door phone after 15 minutes. He must have been running up the stairs as he soon after drops my cigarettes and a copy of Ekstra Bladet on the bed:

"You're famous," he remarks casually.

The right half of the front page of the tabloid is covered by a large colour photograph of me, shot from the back in full figure, looking back over my shoulder through my plano glasses and smiling seductively at the photographer. I honestly didn't know my smile would look that way. I was just trying to make a good impression.

Next to the picture there is a headline the size the papers will use on the day Jesus returns:

SCHOOLTEACHER ON PORNHUB:

WOULD

YOU

LET

HER

TEACH

YOUR

CHILD?

I open the cigarette pack and the paper, find the pages 4 through 7 with an extensive coverage of my participation in the Amsterdam convention and my employment situation as a schoolteacher.

I light a cigarette and find out that they've used a lot of the grainy stills from the video and several of the pictures from last night. I look like a real party animal with my wine glass and my cigarette at the table. And Erik even managed to catch me in a fraction of a second where I look a bit drunk. Which I wasn't at all.

In contrast, Peter Christensen is pictured as a concerned parent in suit and tie, looking very worried about the effects to his daughter of the fact that she has just spent a week in Jutland with a porn model.

The interview with me is a separate article under the headline:

I'M NOT A PORN QUEEN

I don't believe the word "queen" was used during the interview, but never mind.

I look up at Steffen who stands, smiling, beside my bed.

"Have you read this?" I ask, exhaling smoke.

"Yeah. I couldn't help it. I saw the paper at the convenience store and just had to buy it. I didn't know last night that you would be in the paper today. Did you?"

"Yes. I just spoke to this slimy journalist before meeting you last night."

"So... Are you satisfied?"

"Satisfied? No. I'm not satisfied. Do you think I wanted this? Do you realize what it does to my credibility as a teacher?"

"So why did you talk to this guy?"

"I didn't feel I had a choice. The story was going into the paper anyway. So it was with or without my comments... Look, let's go to the kitchen and have some breakfast."

I pick up the paper and ashtray and leave the bed.

"Eh... Matilde..."

"Would you mind wearing those glasses?"

I smile and pick them up from the bedside table.

"Like this?" I ask after putting them om.

"Yes!"

"Does it make you horny?"

"Absolutely. Look!"

Steffen points to his crotch where a distinct bump is standing out inside his jeans.

"Are you at all able to have breakfast while I'm wearing these. Or will you just have to fuck me all the time?"

"I'll try to restrain myself so we can have some breakfast. So please keep them on."

We go into the kitchen where I sit down, reading through all the articles on the important societal issue of the Schoolteacher from Pornhub, while Steffen makes coffee, cuts the bread and sets the small kitchen table.

"Is there something you can do about it?"

I hesitate while inhaling my cigarette.

"I don't know... My lawyer friend tells me that we might be able to have the video taken down from the pornsites eventually."

"But won't it just come back over and over?"

"Maybe. I don't know... I spoke to my boss last night. She has defended me. But some of the parents... like this guy..."

I hold up the paper, pointing at Peter Christensen's picture.

"...they are taking their kids out of the school..."

"Oh..."

"...so it might have serious consequences for..."

My phone, which is plugged into a power socket in the living room, rings and I get up to answer it:

"Let me just get this."

It says "Unknown Caller" on the display of my iPhone, which I pick up, saying my first name. There is a loud moaning at the other end. Obviously a guy masturbating. I hang up and return to the kitchen where Steffen pours me a much needed cup of black coffee.

"Thanks!" I say, sipping the hot liquid.

"What was that? Wrong number?"

"You could say that... It was some guy who wanted to rub his penis while listening to my voice. Probably one of the readers of this fine newspaper. The display just said 'Unknown Caller'."

"Oh."

"Yes. What can you say?"

I go back to Jonas Jørgensen's work. Just before finishing the last article the phone rings again. This time there is an actual phone number on the display. So I answer it.

"Matilde."

"Yes. Hello. This is Claus Nørgaard. I'm the father of Liva in sixth grade."

"Yes. Hello, Claus. How can I help you?"

"I'm calling you because of the articles in Ekstra Bladet today."

"Yes?"

"It's my wife, Anja. She wants to move Liva to another school because of this."

"Well, I..."

"I just want you to know that I think that it's all wrong to let you and the school down because of this. I think Liva should definitely stay in your class. I think you are a fine teacher."

"Thank you very much, Claus. That means a lot to me."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with being on Pornhub. I mean, everybody uses Pornhub. I use it a lot myself. I'm not really attracted to Anja anymore."

I have a slight feeling that Claus is providing me with unwanted information. But he goes on, as I stub out my cigarette in an ashtray and blow out the last smoke:

"But Anja insists on moving Liva to another school."

"I'm sorry. But I really think you and Anja should discuss this and try to reach a common agreement on what is best for Liva," I say, trying to sound professional and cool.

"Yeah... But I was wondering if you and I could sit down together and discuss it some time this weekend. I mean over a cup of coffee. Or maybe over a beer tonight?"

I'd do anything to avoid spending time with this unbelievable creep.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. No."

"Maybe just for half an hour? I really like your tattoos, you know, and..."

"No, Claus. Goodbye!"

I hang up and return to the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Steffen asks with some bread, butter and jam in his mouth.

"Oh... That was the father of Liva in my sixth grade class who had read about me in the paper and now wanted to have sex with me."

"Really? Not that I blame him... Sex with you is great. But he seems to have a rather... forward way of telling you, doesn't he."

"Exactly. And he also told me that his wife insists on moving their daughter to another school. But he himself sees no problem in my appearing on Pornhub. Because he is a frequent Pornhub user. And he likes my tattoos."

"So he's quite open about his intentions and preferences?"

"Yes. Surprisingly open. I've hardly spoken to the man. He left most of the parents meetings to his wife. I just vaguely remember him."

"Can't you just switch off the phone?"

"I want my boss to be able to reach me. So no."

The phone rings and I get up to answer it. "Unknown Caller" again. I swipe right on my iPhone to take the call.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Matilde! I want to fuck you!"

This guy goes straight to the point.

"Well. That's nice to know. And I can see your phone number here on my display. So I'll get back to you in case I ever feel the urge to have you fuck me."

The guy at the other end fumbles with his phone and hangs up.

"So you could se that guy's number?"

"No. I lied. But it made him shut up," I laugh and sit down, smearing butter on a slice of freshly baked bread.

"You're really in demand this morning, Matilde," Steffen smiles and has a sip of coffee.

"Yeah. Demand has grown lately."

Steffen puts his hand on top of mine:

"Listen, Matilde. I like you a lot. I'd like to spend some time with you."

"You mean next time your wife is away with the kids?"

Steffen looks down into his coffee. I continue after a pause:

"I don't think I'm really into having an affair with a married man."

"I can find time for you, Matilde."

"I'm sure you can... That's not the point... Look, sex with you was totally nice and all... But I don't think there's much future in this, Steffen. Honestly."

I've finished my slice of bread and reach for my cigarettes.

"Okay. If that's how you see it..."