This erotic short story was written for SnakkOmSex. If you would like to read Norwegian language stories click here.
For more English language stories click here.

So, I’m halfway through this godawful microwaved burrito at the Spar on Kirkeveien in Lillehammer, right? It’s barely edible, but whatever, I’m hungry. Then I catch this chick staring at me from over by the candy aisle. Not even trying to hide it, just full-on gawking like I’m some sorta freak show. Now, look, I’m not exactly winning any beauty contests, okay? I’m almost 40, got this gut from way too many late-night kebabs, and my beard looks like a patchy mess, worse than a kid’s first attempt. So I’m thinking, either she’s stoned out of her mind or I’ve got salsa smeared all over my face. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, give her a quick nod like “what’s up,” and go back to chewing. But nope, she’s still staring. Doesn’t let up. And honestly, it’s kinda pissing me off, but I’m also curious, you know? Lillehammer’s small as hell. You keep bumping into the same faces, old high school buddies, the hotdog guy outside Kiwi on Storgata, even your ex’s cousin who still shoots you dirty looks. But this girl? I don’t know her. Not at all. She looks maybe late 20s, pale as a ghost, with this messy blonde hair thrown up in a bun that’s half falling apart. She’s got on this worn-out leather jacket over a hoodie, jeans with holes in the knees, not the cool, ripped kind, just straight-up trashed. Looks like she hasn’t slept in days, but her eyes? Sharp as hell, locked right on me. I’m not used to anyone giving me that kinda look, so I decide to call her out. “Got a problem?” I say, louder than I meant to, my voice echoing a bit in the empty store. The cashier, this kid Jonas I’ve seen a hundred times, glances over but doesn’t say a word. Place is dead otherwise, just the hum of the fridges and some crappy pop song playing on the radio. She doesn’t even flinch. Just smirks, grabs a Snickers off the shelf, and starts walking over. “Nah, no problem,” she says, her voice low and kinda rough, like she smokes too much. “Just wondering if you’re as bored as you look.” I snort, can’t help it. “What, you psychic or something? I’m eating. That’s excitement enough for me.” She leans against the counter right next to me, unwrapping her candy bar like she owns the damn place. “I’m Ingrid,” she says, not bothering with a handshake or anything. Just takes a bite and keeps staring. “You’re… what, from around here?” “Yeah, born and raised. Not that it’s anything to brag about.” I finish the last sad bite of my burrito, crumple up the wrapper, and chuck it at the bin. Miss by a mile. Can’t be bothered to pick it up. “You’re not from here, though. I’d know.” “Just moved in last month. Up by Mesnaelva, in this crappy little apartment above the old bakery. Smells like burnt bread 24/7.” She chews real slow, still watching me like I’m about to do something interesting. “You got a name, or should I just call you Burrito Dude?” I roll my eyes. “It’s Torvald. And don’t start with the old-man crap. I’ve heard it all before.” She lets out this short, sharp laugh. “Fair enough. So, Torvald, you do anything around here besides scarf down junk food at Spar?” I shrug. “Work at the lumber yard off Fåbergveien. Drink at Skjenkestua on weekends. That’s pretty much my life. Real exciting, huh?” I’m not trying to impress her or anything. What’s the point? But she keeps looking at me, like she’s figuring something out, and it’s making me fidget. I feel weird as hell. “Skjenkestua, huh?” she says, finishing her Snickers and just tossing the wrapper on the counter. Jonas shoots her a look but keeps quiet. “That the dive bar by the train station? Looks like it reeks of piss and bad decisions.” “That’s the one. You been there?” “Nah. Don’t got anyone to go with. Yet.” She drags out that last word, and I swear I feel it hit me in the stomach. I’m not dumb, I can tell she’s angling for something. No clue what, though. Me? I’m not the guy women flirt with. Never have been. Last time I got any action was over a year ago, some sloppy, drunken mess with a coworker’s sister at a Christmas party. Barely even remember it. So this whole thing? Feels weird. Off. But I’m not backing down. “You saying you wanna grab a drink with me?” I ask, crossing my arms, trying to act all cool. My voice cracks a bit, though. Embarrassing as hell. She grins, showing all her teeth. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna see if you’re as boring as you look. Got plans tonight?” Truth is, I don’t. Never really do. Just the usual, head back to my dumpy one-bedroom near Lysgårdsbakkene, pop open a Hansa beer, and zone out to some lame cop show rerun on NRK. But I’m not telling her that. “Depends. You buying?” Ingrid laughs again, louder this time. “Cheap bastard. Alright, fine. Meet me there at nine. Don’t be late, Torvald. I don’t wait around for anyone.” Then she just turns and walks out, doesn’t even glance back. I’m standing there like a complete idiot, watching her through the glass door as she heads down Kirkeveien toward the middle of town. Jonas finally speaks up. “You know her?” “Nah,” I say, still staring out the door like a creep. “Just met her. She’s… weird, man.” He snorts. “Looks like trouble. Better watch yourself.” “Yeah, yeah.” I grab a pack of smokes off the counter, pay for it, and head outside. It’s cold as hell out there, late October in Lillehammer always is. You can smell the snow coming, even if it’s not here yet. I light up a cigarette right outside the Spar, leaning against the wall, and just… think about what the hell just happened. Ingrid. No idea what her deal is. Not even sure if I like her. She’s pushy, kinda rude, looks like she hasn’t slept in a damn week. But the way she looked at me, like she saw something I don’t even see in myself, it’s stuck in my head. I don’t know if I’m annoyed or… I dunno, into it. Maybe both. I start walking home, taking my time, cutting through the back streets past the old Maihaugen museum. Town’s quiet, just a few cars rolling by and some teenagers messing around near the skate park.

My place isn’t far, just a quick ten-minute walk, but I took my sweet time getting there. Couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. Nine o’clock at Skjenkestua. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I’d show up. Part of me just wanted to say screw it, stay home, and forget the whole damn thing. But then there’s this other part of me, hell, I don’t even know. It’s been ages since anyone paid me any real attention. Even if she’s just messing around, I’m kinda curious. What’s the worst that could happen, right? I get a little drunk, blow a couple hundred kroner, and stumble home by myself. No biggie.

When I finally got to my apartment, I kicked off my muddy boots and flung my jacket over the couch. Place is a total dump, empty beer cans cluttering the coffee table, dishes stacked up in the sink like a leaning tower. Didn’t give a crap, though. I snagged a Hansa from the fridge, cracked it open, and plopped down. Checked my phone. Nothing. No texts, no calls, just the clock staring back at me. 6:47. Still two hours ‘til nine. I took a long pull from the beer, leaned back, and tried to wrap my head around what the hell I was even doing. I’m not good with people. Never have been, really. Grew up around here, went to Lillehammer Videregående, been stuck in the same grunt-work jobs my whole life. I’ve got some buddies, sure, but they’re all hitched now, got kids, don’t hang out much anymore. So I’m just… me. Kinda in a rut. This thing with Ingrid, whatever the heck it is, feels off, like a weird glitch in my boring-ass life. But I can’t shake it. I keep picturing that smirk of hers, hearing that gravelly voice in my head. “Don’t be late, Torvald.” Dammit. Deep down, I knew I was gonna go. Didn’t even bother pretending I wouldn’t.

By 8:30, I’d dragged myself into the shower, first one in a couple days, if I’m being real, and threw on a sorta clean flannel and jeans. Didn’t bother shaving. Looked in the mirror and saw the same worn-out jackass I always see. Eh, whatever. She’s no runway model herself. Grabbed my wallet, shoved it in my back pocket, and stepped out into the chilly night. Skjenkestua’s not far, just down by the station like she said. I walked past the old Stortorget square, all decked out with those stupid fairy lights they put up way too damn early. The bar’s a real dive, been there forever. Stinks of stale beer and old cigarette smoke, even though smoking’s been banned inside for years. I pushed the door open at 9:02, half expecting her to have bailed. But nope, there she was. Sitting at the bar, sipping on some dark pint, still rocking that beat-up leather jacket. She spotted me, lifted her glass just a tiny bit, and nodded at the stool next to her. My stomach did a weird flip. Not nerves, not really. More like… I dunno, something else. I walked over, sat down, and ordered a beer. Didn’t say a word yet. Neither did she. We just sat there, side by side, like we were both waiting for the other to break the ice.

I took a sip of my Hansa, the cold beer biting at my throat, sharp and bitter. Ingrid didn’t look over right away, just kept staring at the row of bottles behind the bar like they held some big secret. The place was pretty dead, just a handful of regulars slouched over their drinks and some lonely guy chucking darts in the corner. The jukebox was blaring an old Springsteen song, all scratchy and warped. I could feel the warmth from her arm next to mine, even through that jacket of hers. Don’t know why that got to me, but it did. “So, you showed up,” she said after a bit, turning her head just enough to give me a quick glance. That smirk was back, like she knew something I didn’t. “Thought you might chicken out.” I snorted. “Yeah, well, free beer’s tough to turn down. Even if it’s with a pain in the ass like you.” She let out a short, rough laugh and clinked her glass against mine. “Cheers to that, Torvald. You’re not as dull as I figured.”

We drank in silence for a while, but it wasn’t weird or anything. More like we were sizing each other up, waiting to see who’d crack first. I suck at small talk, always have, so I just let the beer do the talking for a bit. Before I even finished my first, she ordered another round and slid a glass over to me without asking if I wanted it. Bossy as hell. But I didn’t mind, weirdly enough. Something about her taking the lead kinda got under my skin, in a way I didn’t see coming. I caught myself glancing at her hands, rough, short nails, a bit of dirt under ‘em. Not dainty or anything. Just real. Made me wonder what they’d feel like. “You staring at me again?” she said, catching me right in the middle of my dumb thoughts. Didn’t sound pissed, more like she was entertained. Her eyes were on me now, sharp, not holding back. “Nah, just… spacing out,” I mumbled, lying through my teeth. Took a bigger swig of beer than I planned and coughed a little, feeling like a complete moron. “Long day at the yard. Brain’s shot.” “Bullshit,” she shot back, leaning in a bit closer. I could smell her now, cigarette smoke, some cheap flowery scent like old shampoo, and just… her. Not bad, just strong. “You’re checking me out. Don’t act like you ain’t.”

I shrugged, didn’t even try to deny it. What’s the point? “Alright, fine. So what if I am? You’re the one who dragged me out here.” Ingrid grinned, bigger this time, and turned her stool so she was facing me straight on. Her knee bumped mine under the bar, and she didn’t pull away. “Dragged you? Nah, you came running. Bet you don’t get out much, do you? Bet it’s been a hot minute since you got any action.” My face got warm, which annoyed the hell out of me. I’m not some kid getting all flustered, but damn, she’s got a way of cutting straight through the nonsense. “Screw off,” I grumbled, though it didn’t have much punch. “What’s it to you?” She didn’t say anything right off, just took a slow sip of her beer, eyeing me over the edge of the glass.

So, she put her glass down, got real close, and lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “Look, Torvald, I’m just sayin’. You seem like you need to cut loose a bit. And me? I’m bored outta my mind. So…” She trailed off, didn’t even need to finish. My stomach did a weird flip, tighter this time. I got what she was hinting at. I’m not an idiot, ya know? But was she for real, or just messin’ with my head? I stared at her, tryin’ to figure it out, but those eyes of hers? Nothin’. Just blank, like she was challengin’ me to make a move. I chugged the rest of my beer in one gulp, slammed the glass down harder than I meant to. “So, what, you just hit on random dudes at the Spar every week? That your deal?” She burst out laughin’, loud enough that the bartender shot us a look. “Nah, only the sad sacks with crap beards. You’re a special case, Torvald.” I rolled my eyes, but damn if I wasn’t already fidgetin’ in my seat, feelin’ that tug. Didn’t wanna admit it, but she was gettin’ under my skin. The bar suddenly felt smaller, the chatter and clinks fadin’ away. Just her and me, and whatever this weird vibe was. I didn’t overthink it, hell, thinkin’ ain’t my thing. Just went with the flow. “Alright,” I said, my voice comin’ out quieter than I planned. “What’re we doin’ then? ‘Cause I’m not sittin’ here all night listenin’ to you run your mouth.” Her smirk shifted, got sharper, hungrier. She slid off her stool, standin’ so close her hip grazed my leg. “C’mon then. Back of the bar, there’s a hallway by the bathrooms. Nobody gives a damn ‘round here.” I didn’t argue. Didn’t even pause to think. Just followed her like a complete moron, past the guy throwin’ darts and the sticky-ass tables, into this narrow hallway near the back. It stank like old piss and cheap cleaner, with a flickerin’ fluorescent light buzzin’ above us. Men’s room on one side, women’s on the other, and a fire exit at the end that probably ain’t been touched in years. She stopped halfway down, spun around to face me, and leaned back against the wall. Didn’t say a word, just gave me that same damn look from before. Like she was waitin’ for me to catch up. I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat off her again. My heart was poundin’ way too fast, but I didn’t let myself dwell on it. Just slapped one hand on the wall by her head, leanin’ in. She didn’t budge, didn’t even blink, just tilted her chin up a bit. I could see the pulse in her neck, fast but steady. Caught that mix of smoke and shampoo again, now with somethin’ else, sweat, maybe, or just the rawness of her bein’ right there. “Screw it,” I mumbled, more to myself than her, and went for it. Kissed her. It wasn’t smooth or any of that movie crap. Our teeth kinda clashed, my beard scratchin’ her chin. Her lips were rough, chapped, but she pushed back hard, like she’d been waitin’ for this. Her hands grabbed at my chest, tuggin’ on my flannel, pullin’ me in tighter. I pressed against her, pinnin’ her to the wall, feelin’ the shape of her under that jacket. Skinny, but solid. Not soft or fragile or any of that nonsense. Just… real. She bit my bottom lip, not gentle at all, and I grunted, caught off guard. Tasted a bit of blood, didn’t give a damn. My hand slid from the wall to her hip, grippin’ through her jeans. She let out a low noise in her throat, pushed her hips forward, grindin’ against me. I was already half-hard, hell, had been since we were at the bar, if I’m bein’ honest, and feelin’ her like that just made it worse. I moved my other hand to her jacket, fumblin’ with the zipper, tryin’ to get it down while she kept kissin’ me, all messy and desperate. Finally got it open, shoved it off her shoulders a bit, felt the warmth of her skin through the hoodie underneath. “Hurry the hell up,” she muttered against my mouth, her voice rough now. Her hands were at my belt, yankin’ at it, no patience at all. I heard the metal clink as she got it undone, felt her fingers brush me through my jeans. Made me twitch a little, already too damn sensitive. I ain’t proud of how fast I was gettin’ worked up, but hey, it’d been a while, alright? I shoved her hoodie up, got my hand underneath, felt her stomach, then slid up to her chest. No bra, just skin and the hard peak of her nipple under my thumb. She hissed, arched into it, and I squeezed harder than I meant to. Her hand was in my jeans now, past the waistband of my boxers, wrappin’ around me. Cold fingers, rough grip, no hesitation at all. I groaned, couldn’t stop myself, and pushed against her harder, trappin’ her hand between us. She stroked me once, twice, slow but firm, and I swear I was about to lose it right there in that nasty hallway. Didn’t wanna give her the win that easy, though, so I pulled back just enough to get my own hand down to her jeans. Popped the button, yanked the zipper, and shoved my fingers inside. Felt the heat of her through her underwear, already damp, and rubbed hard against the fabric. She gasped, her head tippin’ back against the wall, eyes half-shut. “Fuck, Torvald,” she breathed out, and hearin’ my name like that? Did somethin’ to me. I pushed her underwear aside, felt the slick heat of her, hot and wet against my fingers. Slid one inside, no warnin’, just goin’ on instinct, and she clenched around me, hips buckin’. Added another, curlin’ them a bit, tryin’ to figure out what got her goin’. She was tight, grippin’ me hard, and the sounds she was makin’, low, kinda desperate, were messin’ with my head. I wanted more, wanted to feel her around me, not just my fingers.

I yanked my hand back, wiped it on my jeans without even thinking, and started tugging her pants down over her hips. She was right there with me, kicking one leg free, not giving a damn that we were in this nasty-ass hallway where anyone could just stroll by. I fumbled with my own jeans, got ‘em down just enough, boxers too, and grabbed her thigh, pulling it up around my hip. She threw her arms around my neck, dragging me closer, and I could feel her heat, man, so freaking close it was driving me nuts. Didn’t have a condom, didn’t even cross my mind ‘til that moment, but she didn’t seem to care either. Just gave me this quick, sharp nod, like, hurry the hell up. I got myself lined up, felt the tip against her, all slick and ready, and started pushing in, taking it slow at first, feeling her open up around me. She bit her lip, let out this sound, kinda a moan, kinda a grunt, and I froze for a sec, wondering if I was hurting her. “Don’t fucking stop,” she snapped, nails digging into my shoulder like she meant business. So, yeah, I didn’t. Kept going, deeper, feeling every damn inch, the heat and tightness of her making my head spin like crazy. I was only halfway in, trying to keep it slow, but she rocked her hips forward, taking me all the way. I groaned, loud as hell, couldn’t hold it in, and pressed my forehead against the wall next to her, just trying to keep my shit together. Her breath was hot on my ear, all uneven, and I could feel her trembling, or maybe that was me shaking. Who knows? Didn’t matter.

I started moving, just shallow thrusts at first, testing the waters, feeling her get used to me. Every push felt raw, too much, like I wasn’t gonna last if I didn’t focus hard. She shifted a bit, wrapping her leg tighter around me, and I grabbed her ass with one hand, holding her up against the wall. The angle changed, let me go even deeper, and she cursed under her breath, fingers yanking at my hair, pulling hard. Didn’t bother me, the sting. I just kept at it, picking up speed, the sound of us, skin slapping, heavy breathing, bouncing off the walls in this grimy hallway. It was messy, awkward as hell with our clothes still half-on, the wall cold against my knuckles, but I didn’t give a crap. Neither did she, obviously. I thrust harder now, feeling her body jolt with every move. The hallway was dim, some flickering light above us casting weird shadows on the wall, but I barely noticed that crap. All I could think about was her heat, the way she clenched around me, tight and wet, pulling me in like she didn’t want me to stop for nothing. My jeans were bunched up around my thighs, belt buckle clinking every damn time I moved, and her one leg, still caught in her pants, was tangled up near my knee or something. It wasn’t pretty, not some movie bullshit. Just desperate, sloppy screwing in a place that stank like piss and hopelessness.

Her breath was coming in these short, sharp gasps now, hot against my neck. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, dripping down the side of my face, and her skin was slick too, sticking to mine where I gripped her bare thigh. I adjusted my hold, slid my fingers under her ass, digging in to keep her steady against the wall. She let out this low moan, not loud, but enough to twist my gut, and rocked her hips to meet me, matching my rhythm like we’d done this a hundred times. I could feel everything, man, her inner walls gripping me, the slick slide, the way her body tensed up every time I hit that spot. My dick was throbbing, way too close already, but I wasn’t about to finish yet. Not ‘til I knew she was there too. “Harder, fuck,” she muttered, voice all raw, barely a whisper. Her nails scratched at the back of my neck, stinging like hell, but it just fired me up more. I slammed into her, no holding back now, the force making her head tip back against the wall with a dull little thunk. Didn’t even check if she was okay, her eyes were half-closed, mouth open, and she was pushing back just as hard. I could smell her now, stronger, this mix of sweat and something musky, raw, hitting me in waves. My other hand slid up under her hoodie again, rough on her skin, finding her breast and squeezing, rolling her nipple between my fingers ‘til she hissed and arched into me.

I felt her start to shake, just a little at first, then more, her thighs trembling around me. “Fuck, I’m, ” she started, didn’t finish, just gasped sharp and clenched down on me so hard I almost lost it right then. I kept going, thrusting through it, feeling her pulse around me as she came, her whole body jerking against mine. Her head dropped to my shoulder, teeth grazing my collarbone, not biting, but close enough. The sounds she made, low and broken, real as hell, pushed me right to the damn edge. Couldn’t hold back anymore. Didn’t even try to. “Shit,” I grunted, pulling out at the last second ‘cause some stupid part of my brain remembered we hadn’t used a damn thing. I came hard, spilling onto her thigh and the inside of her jeans, still half-hanging off her. It was messy as hell, hot and sticky, dripping down her pale skin in streaks. My breath was all over the place, chest heaving, and I braced one hand on the wall to keep from just collapsing on her. My dick twitched, still half-hard, sensitive as fuck, and I could feel the ache in my legs from holding her up like that. She didn’t say a word, just panted against my shoulder, her grip on me loosening but not letting go yet. After a few seconds, I stepped back, letting her leg slide down. She stumbled a bit, caught herself against the wall, and wiped at her thigh with the edge of her hoodie like it was no big deal.

She didn’t even glance at me at first, just yanked her jeans back up, wincing a little as she zipped them over the mess I’d made. I was fumbling with my own pants, trying to get the belt right, feeling that damp spot in my boxers and honestly not caring one bit. The air felt thick now, heavy with the smell of us, sharp, raw, not sexy or anything, just… there. Real as hell. I wiped my hand on my flannel, kinda lost on what to do with myself now that the high was gone. Then she looked over, hair all over the place, face still red, that little smirk creeping back, though not as big this time. “Not bad, Torvald,” she said, voice still a bit shaky, like she was just pointing out a fact, not really complimenting me or anything. She pushed herself off the wall, fixed her jacket like nothing had even happened, and started heading back to the bar without so much as a glance to see if I’d follow. I just stood there for a second, watching her walk off, feeling like a complete idiot with my heart still hammering way too hard. I don’t know what I thought would happen, maybe some kinda chat, a laugh, something. But nope, she just left me standing in that grimy hallway, the fluorescent light buzzing above like it was laughing at me. I ran a hand through my hair, sticky with sweat, and muttered, “Fuckin’ hell,” under my breath before dragging myself after her.

Back at the bar, there she was, already parked on her stool, ordering another beer like we hadn’t just done what we did ten feet away. I slid onto the seat next to her, not sure what to even say, not sure if I wanted to say anything at all. My beer was still sitting there, half-warm and gross, but I took a sip anyway just to have something to do with my hands. Tasted like absolute piss, but whatever, I didn’t care. The jukebox had flipped to some old Norwegian rock tune, barely loud enough to hear over the low hum of the few drunks still lingering around. Nobody looked our way, nobody seemed to notice or give a damn. Just another night at Skjenkestua, I guess. We didn’t talk much after that. She downed her beer fast, tossed a crumpled 100-kroner note onto the counter, and got up. “See ya around, I guess,” she said, not even looking at me, just shrugging like it was no big deal. Didn’t wait for me to say anything back, just walked out the door into the freezing Lillehammer night, her boots scuffing on the sticky floor as she left.

I stayed there a bit longer, sipping the rest of my shitty beer, staring at the empty glass she’d left behind. Felt weird, y’know? Not good, not bad, just… empty, I suppose. My legs were still kinda shaky, my skin still buzzing where she’d grabbed me, but that was about it. No big moment, no deep life-changing thoughts or whatever. Just the dull ache in my back from holding her up and the faint smell of her still on my hands. Didn’t know if I’d see her again, didn’t know if I even wanted to. Didn’t really matter, I guess. Life keeps moving, same as it always does. I paid my tab, gave a nod to the bartender who didn’t even bother looking up, and stepped outside. The air hit me hard, sharp and icy, the kinda cold that cuts right through you after a night like this. I lit a smoke, the match flaring up for a split second before the wind killed it, and started walking home past the train station. Didn’t think about her much, not really. Mostly just thought about how I’ve got an early shift at the lumber yard tomorrow, and how I’m probably gonna oversleep again. Halfway down Storgata, I realized I’d left my lighter on the bar counter. Didn’t turn back for it, though. Just kept walking, cigarette dangling unlit from my mouth, figuring I’d bum a light off someone at work.