The Fourth Man Read Online Free

had forced her way into his flat – his mind raced. One thing was the physical intrusion – the practical side, her ‘actually doing it’. The other was the mental intrusion, forcing her way into his innermost sanctuary, his home – simply performing this act without asking him, usurping the right. He was unable to break the spell. A flood of emotions had him in thrall.
    Perhaps it was the draught from the door, perhaps a glint in the glass door of the cabinet, but suddenly she gave a start, ripped off the headset and jumped up.
    ‘My God, you gave me a fright!’
    The next moment she was close to him. ‘Hi.’
    ‘Hi to you, too.’
    She looked up, sensed the agitation, the well of conflicting feelings besetting him.
    ‘Aren’t you just a tiny bit … happy?’
    ‘How did you get in?’
    ‘I borrowed a key.’
    ‘Borrowed a key?’
    ‘When I was here last.’
    ‘So you’re a thief?’
    An echo of an earlier conversation. Utterly composed, she looked into his eyes and said: ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Provocatively at first, but then she lowered her gaze – as if ashamed.
    As if, he thought repeatedly: As if !
    ‘I borrowed it. From the bowl in the kitchen.’
    ‘Borrowed the key?’
    ‘Are you annoyed?’
    ‘Did you take the key from my kitchen last time you were here – without mentioning it to me?’
    ‘You’re annoyed.’
    ‘Far from it.’
    ‘You don’t like this kind of surprise?’
    ‘I’m not sure if “like” is the right word.’
    ‘I meant well, though.’
    ‘Why aren’t you wearing more clothes?’
    Her voice darkened. ‘So you can see me better.’ She feigned a giggle when he didn’t respond.
    There was an inherent vulnerability in her awkwardness. But she sensed that he noticed, and smothered this mental nakedness in a tighter embrace, quickly adding: ‘No, it wasn’t that. I took a shower. I was so cold.’ She tugged at his body and stiffened slightly when she felt his reluctance. ‘I know it was wrong. Borrowing the key without asking. Sorry.’
    She let go of him and marched through the room, towards the kitchen.
    Her jacket was on the chair under the window. She bent down for it, keeping her legs straight – a living pose from a glossy men’s mag. She looked through the pockets and showed him the key, flicking back her dark hair. The pearl in her navel glinted and then she was back close again. ‘I won’t ever do it again.’ Then she marched into the kitchen. He heard the key clink against the foreign coins and the odds and ends in the bowl. She straightened up, rested her head against the door frame and studied him. He had to swallow. When she moved towards him, it was as though she was walking on a catwalk, one foot in front of the other. She held his eyes the whole way. Her lips said: ‘I thought you would be happy. Probably because I like surprises myself.’ Her hand groped and she glanced up at him. ‘You are happy. Your body is happy.’
    ‘But how did you manage to find the right key?’
    She loosened his belt, pulled his shirt loose; her fingers undid the button on his trouser waistband. The cool fingers gliding down his stomach. She stood there with her eyes closed and lowered her voice. ‘Why do you always have to talk about dreary things, Mr Grumpy?’
    He relented and kissed her.
    ‘She’s my mentor,’ she said simply.
    ‘Who is what?’
    ‘Reidun, the lecturer at Blindern university, she’s my mentor.’
    ‘Now you’re talking about dreary things. Anyway, you appeared to be totally immersed in each other.’
    ‘She is.’
    ‘She is what?’
    ‘She’s in love with me.’ She faltered, then looked up. ‘And neither you nor I can do anything about that, can we?’
    He didn’t say anything.
    ‘I had to listen to her. She was telling me something important. Anyway, it wasn’t very nice of you to follow me, was it?’
    He held his tongue. Wasn’t sure whether it was nice or not. All the blood in his body was drawn down to her cool