After an emotional break-up with Justin, my boyfriend, I decided to head off to a normal, serious place for a few days of chilling out all by myself.
Finland was my choice. Its reputation for well-organised politeness and people keeping a respectful distance would be perfect. Yes, Helsinki: the last place in the world to get groped on public transport, one of Justin’s fetishes. A girl would be safe from male predators there.
After two days of sightseeing, I suddenly realised I had spent a fortune on tea and coffee. I also realised I was, frankly, bored and lonely. The man on a nearby table noticed my look of sadness as the waiter placed another big bill in front of me.
“Expensive, isn’t it?” he said sympathetically, in a friendly Nordic accent. I nodded.
His name was Otto, he was a writer and he was doing some research for his latest book. He invited me to join him. I decided there was no harm in it.
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He ordered two local beers — smooth and tasty, just like Otto. His accent was soothing and his conversation and manners were impeccable. Not only that, even though he was about 40, he was good-looking — blond, tall and thin, with pale eyes that became increasing alluring as one tipple led to another.
“My book’s called Kinky in Helsinki,” Otto calmly informed me. I almost spewed a mouthful of alcohol over him.
'My book’s called Kinky in Helsinki,' Otto calmly informed me. I almost spewed a mouthful of alcohol over him “I want to show everyone that our capital is a fun place,” he explained proudly.
“Sure,” I nodded, with a mixture of alarm and amusement.
“We Finns are not so miserable and glumly, no?” Otto suggested. “Come — I show you fun time in Helsinki.”
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He took me by the hand and we walked out into the evening sunshine. At 10pm, it was still light, and I didn’t really want to go back to the hotel.
Otto, a perceptive chap, read my mind and suggested going to a party at his sister’s house.
“She’s got a little place on the beach,” he explained, scrolling down his BlackBerry to find photos of it. Otto wrapped his arm round me as he decisively hailed a taxi.
We exchanged our first kiss — a soft, gentle one on the back seat — before the driver said something in Finnish, presumably warning us to behave. Otto tutted and grumbled something as we drew up at his sister’s place.
A few semi-drunk guests welcomed me warmly by hugging me and kissing me, often three times on the cheek and quite closely — both the men and women. I decided that it was a quaint local custom and entered into the spirit of things by kissing more total strangers.
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Next, Pihla, Otto’s sister, to my surprise, invited us to make use of the bedroom while she began cooking a midnight meal. Well, I had come this far, so we tumbled eagerly, and drunkenly, into bed.
A while later, when I was feeling rather hungry (for food) and Otto had crashed out, Pihla and another female guest entered the bedroom wearing only cooking aprons and underwear. They asked if they could join us while waiting for the salmon to cook.
I decided that my time with Otto had been satisfying enough, and that I should skip the fish feast, along with anything else these kinky Helsinki siblings and partygoers had in mind. It all seemed perfectly normal to them, but this part of Helsinki society was a little too much for me.