The Second Domino Pt. 03

Nevertheless, all jokes aside I was decidedly nervous about this reunion, I've never been a big fan of rekindled flames. In my opinion once you've ended it then you're only playing with fire if you try to go back, and it seemed like Kristina was trying to bring back memories from the past when she stepped into the suite I was sharing with the kids. She'd changed into a polka-dot pussy bow blouse tucked into a black satin pencil skirt, she was also wearing a three-quarter length coat.

"I tried to arrange extra tickets but everything was booked out."

"We're fine," I rose slowly, "honestly, go and do your thing and we'll see you when you get back later."

"I won't be staying long," she replied, "I'll be finished in an hour and a half and then we'll go out for dinner, my treat."

"Sounds good, I'll find a ridiculously expensive restaurant and text you the address," I put an arm around her waist, "and it's so good to see you again."

"Likewise," she stared into my eyes and then brushed her lips over mine briefly, "I'll see you soon," she glanced at Anna and then took a step back.

"Vi ses," she farewelled me in Swedish.

"Hej då."

"I'll take the kids out," I went on, "we've been sitting on our arses for twenty four hours and the jet lag hasn't kicked in yet."

"Why did you kiss her?" Anna asked a few minutes later.

I could have brushed it off because she was ten years old but I've always been a big believer in honesty despite my brief fling with Ruth and my secret crushes on women over the years.

"Kristina was my girlfriend before I met your dad," I sat down slowly.

"So you and her might get married?" Anna pushed her glasses up her nose.

"We aren't there yet," I said, "it was just a kiss."

"That's cool," she hugged me.

I felt the emotion welling up inside me, a combination of the end of my marriage, the stress of the last few weeks, the long flight here and seeing Kristina again. She sensed it even at that tender age and hugged me tighter.

"Don't cry mum, unless you're happy and then you can cry."

Nevertheless I did shed a few tears because in the absence of something intelligent to say I just let the emotions go and then she said something I'd said a couple of times in angry exchanges between her father and I.

"Sometimes things just don't go back together again."

Wasn't that the truth!

Once I'd recovered and had a shower we headed out into Copenhagen. It's not a city I'd spent a lot of time in. My memories are of drunken nights flitting from one bar to the next and it was outside the Irish bar that I finally got a text from Kristina.

Kristina: Finally out of there. Where are you?

Helena: Amagertorv, just near the fountain.

Kristina: Stay there and I will be there soon.

She arrived some seven minutes later astride a bicycle hired from the hotel, much to Anna's amazement, mind you she was over tired and hadn't registered the rows of bikes out the front of the hotel.

"God, I am so glad to be out of there," she swung off her bike, "do not get me wrong I am glad to get some recognition but some of the people there seem to live in their own little bubble. I think that anyone with political ambitions should be forced to live on a basic wage for at least five years. They would meet the kind of people they claim to represent and it would weed out the," she paused, "what is the English word?"

"Airhead, mutton head, dickhead?"

"All of them," she chuckled as we strolled across the square.

Dinner that night was on her, it was your classic Scandinavian buffet at a little Greek restaurant in Skindergade. It was interesting to watch the interaction between my kids and her. Kristina was very inquisitive and polite as she asked them about growing up in Australia. Anna was very much the young lady, indeed she almost seemed like a different person and Hans was a little more reserved. Anna summed it up quite nicely as we kept pace with Kristina and Hans on the way back to the hotel.

"I like her, she seems more like a big sister."

"You think so?" I pulled my eyes from them. Hans was sitting on the luggage rack whilst Kristina cycled slowly along.

"Yeah," she slipped her hand into the crook of my arm, "but you're going to have to buy me a winter coat if we're going to move here."

It was the first time she'd mentioned that word, 'move,' and I stared at her for a moment before stating the obvious.

"What about your dad? Won't you miss him?"

"Of course, mum," she squeezed my arm, "but sometimes with dad it's like I'm not even there, he's always in front of the computer. Maybe if I was out of the country he'd miss me more," she nudged her glasses up her nose.

Kristina however, didn't seem surprised when I relayed that information to her an hour later, the kids were in bed and I was in her room for a nightcap. She was sitting on an oxbow-shaped couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a phone in the other. She'd just finished making a short video clip that was going to be part of another Instagram story. For this one she'd undone the pussybow and the first couple of buttons.

"You should not be so surprised," she put the phone down, "she is probably more like you than you think, she looks like she is solving a complicated maths problem a lot of the time, Anna is taking notes and she will probably review the notes in her own time."

"So tell me," I put my wineglass down, "where do you see this all going?"

"If I had a crystal ball," she flicked at the ties, "the truth of the matter is I have been agonising over this moment for years, what I would say and what you would say, and now you are here it is the cat who has my tongue now."

"That makes for two of us," I replied as I tugged gently at one of her cuffs, "the blouse was a nice touch though."

She seemed not to hear me as she stared out at the lights of Tivoli and then she was back again and looking down at her blouse.

"That is where it began," she murmured, "a night of strip poker and a blouse similar to this," she leaned forward to touch the trophy she'd been awarded.

"I kept the blouse for nearly eighteen months because it was the only memory I had of you, I even used to spray the same perfume as you wore back then but after a while the memories became too painful and so I added it to the recycling bag," she picked the trophy up to read the Swedish inscription.

"I moved on for a few months and even had a male friend who warmed my bed for a while but it was like that part of me had been turned off. Lars was a good man, he still is a good man but I had the hunger for something else and so I went looking for women," she put the trophy down and fiddled with one of her cuffs.

"I got involved with Freda not long after Lars and I called it quits. She was part Danish and part Swedish but she'd been raised in Oslo and then Australia. Her father was a mid level diplomat at the Danish embassy in Sydney," she leaned back against the back of the couch.

"Our initial spark was Australia of course but later on she confessed a fondness for this kind of blouse and so I started wearing them again. By the time I got together with Freda her father had transferred to the private sector and started his own mining investment company, some of his clients were Australian mining magnates. Freda was the joint CEO of the company along with her brother, Hans," she glanced at me.

"Hans was a conniving little snake, I never trusted him and neither did his father because she had inherited a seventy percent share. I was never told the full story at the time but afterwards I found out it was alleged that he'd been buying heroin from Afghanistan and shipping it through Europe. He was never officially charged because of his father's connections but by the time he'd hit the papers I'd grown wary of the entire fucking family. There were too many dirty little secrets. I could've stayed in her lakeside house on Stora Essingen and just kept my mouth shut but I had to get out, I felt claustrophobic while I was with her," she glanced at the blouse.

"She practically bought me an entire new wardrobe, twice because we were together for nearly two years, she used to treat me like a living barbie doll to dress up as she liked."

"Sounds creepy," I replied, "and she didn't ask for them back?"

"Freda would never stoop to such levels," she smiled crookedly, "she was hurt, you could see it in her eyes but then it was like she flicked a switch and just turned me off."

"And afterwards?"

"I threw myself into work, I had no partner, no children and nothing holding me back. After a while I had friends with benefits, all women but they were also not about to move into my place and start anew."

"And what is Freda doing now?"

"Still managing the company now that her father has gone into retirement. Freda has a man and a woman, I think the man lives in Germany but the woman is in Stockholm," she crossed her legs, "and Hans met a sticky end on a German autobahn."

"Well you know my story already, but yours sounds more dramatic than mine."

"Maybe," she tugged at one of her ties.

"But that brings us to the present," I swivelled to face her, "could you be happy with my kids? I have a soon to be ex husband in Australia, once the paperwork is signed. I haven't decided whether I'll sell up or just buy him out and rent the house as a short term lease, I've got my own baggage to bring into this thing."

Kristina didn't reply to that one and I was suddenly aware that I held the ace now. Not that I was in the mood for cheap point scoring.

"But we aren't crossing that bridge tonight," I reached out and drew the back of my hand across her cheek. She leaned into me and grabbed my wrist at the same time, I felt something leave her with her low murmur and then I grabbed one of the ties and I pulled down, taking the collar with me. Our lips met a few seconds later in a light teasing kiss, she almost seemed hesitant and then instinct took over. I felt her hand sliding under my jumper and up to my breast. I opened my mouth and kissed her again and again, tugging at her lips with mine as I drew my finger up and down her placket.

Kristina murmured something unintelligible due to the fact that my lips were pressed firmly against mine but the meaning was obvious when she pulled the jumper over my breasts so as she could nibble on them through the blouse and bra. I undid a couple of her buttons to expose her bra and deepen the vee.

I moved onto her shoulders, nibbling them with soft, sensual bites. The end came when I shifted position and laid her head against the armrest of the couch. She had one foot planted firmly on the floor and the other on the couch whilst I moved up and down her front, kissing my way up and down the vee, alternating with sensual explorations of her throat and shoulders. Kristina finally managed to pull my jumper off and she tossed it to the floor in triumph.

"You just lost your sweater," she grinned.

"So I did," I undid the last couple of visible buttons and pushed the satin material over her shoulders, "but you lost your blouse, almost."

I went down on her again, kissing and stroking her bare skin. She arched her back as I reached her breasts. She was wearing a lightweight bra and I found her nipple and clasping it between my lips I pulled on it whilst stimulating the other at the same time. Kristina let out a low whimper as I pushed the cup over her breast to suck harder, swirling my tongue around the nipple as I felt it harden. Kristina grabbed my head and held me there while I went to work on each nipple in turn and finally she exhaled loudly.

"The bed is better."

We rose together and crossed the few feet to the king size bed and she fell onto her back and dragged me with her. Our dance was a familiar one, we'd often start with one of us being fully clothed and disrobing the other. We never discussed the whys and the wherefores, so I can't even say it's some kind of fetish or private ritual. Granted we've changed our routine nowadays but that night in Copenhagen we were back where we were before our lives took us on different paths. I removed her blouse and bra, followed by her skirt and panties. Once I had her naked I took her higher as I went to work on her pussy, teasing her with soft flickers of the tongue and then using her dildo on her.

When Kristina climaxed there were tear tracks in her makeup and she was sweating. She lay still for quite some time while I stroked her naked body.

"It's been quite a while since I felt like that," she finally rolled onto her side to face me, "and here you are still dressed, again."

I could wax lyrical about what she did to me but I'm going to skip through to the next morning because my daughter woke me in the bed in our suite. We spent the rest of the night in our respective beds because, kids. I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw I was alone, she actually looked worried.

"Where's Kristina?"

"In the next room, why?"

"So, you and her?"

The most instinctive thing a mother can say is the traditional, 'nothing happened,' but I've heard that tale from the lips of other children in schools for years and I so wasn't going to go down that track.

"Something did happen, sweetie," I pulled the duvet off myself, "but we wanted to sit you both down and tell you ourselves instead of having you just walk in on us."

"So, what do I call her? Is she my stepmum?"

"Kind of but we aren't there yet," I put my arm around her, "but whatever happens between us I am your real mum."

I could write more of course, about our trip to Stockholm, meeting her parents and immediate family for the first time but I think I'll pass on that one. Suffice it to say we agreed to tie the knot, in our own roundabout, quirky way. She became the bonusmamma, it's a unique Swedish word to describe a step-parent or stepchild as in bonusbarn where barn is the word for child.

As I finish writing this though I'm still somewhat torn by my decision to depart Australia for Sweden. Part of me wants to stay but Ruth is right, I need to put rubber on the road and move on out, and Sweden is as good a place as any to put down new roots. My ex wasn't happy about the decision but it's a bit late to protest now, that train left the station a while ago. I have decided to buy out his share of the house and rent it out. Ruth will be the landlady of course and that's where I have to leave this little narrative. I hope I haven't bored or offended anyone and now I have to finish a few little jobs before I plan the party week. Kristina is flying over to meet my family and friends so it's going to be one hell of a week.

Thank you for reading my story.

The End.