Chapter 15

Announcing that you’re expected to move your ass to another continent for whichever reason with less than a 24 hours’ notice is Lars’ idea of “discussing something else with you”. The next morning, at an ungodly hour, the wonderful and reassuring cuddling he had started the previous night was cut short with a monster growling “get dressed”. 

I, who had never been to any Muslim country -not even to Morocco for holidays- was going to fly to one of their richest lands! Lars didn’t help me at all because the only thing he told me when we were having breakfast at his plane was: “no public displays of affections while we are there. We fuck indoors.” The stewardess paled when she heard him and I wanted to dig a hole in the fuselage. 

Of course, Sabrina, the witch was coming along. She was best buddies with Lars, shaking her imaginary tail to him and ending every sentence with a “yes, Mr. Berggren”. Needless to say, we got stuck together and she was supposed to show me the tourist hotspots. I bet she’d have preferred a hundred times to be in the first line to protect her beloved “Mr. Berggren” from the wild Beduins than walking me through air conditioned malls but she was screwed up (by her boss, no less) and watching her stoic suffering gave me a wicked pleasure thrill.