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Chapter two
Shirtless muscled men
HighaboveBirgitta’shead,the fluorescent light hummed. The bright, white light coated the break room in an eerie, sterile glow. The blue counters shined brightly, almost hurting her eyes. On the small round table in front of her, a paper plate was piled high with a green salad. The light made it look wilted and dry—completely unappealing. Birgitta regretted her decision to be healthy.
She leaned back in the chair to look around the room. On the countertops sat several microwaves and coffee machines for the throngs of employees that drifted in and out during the day. The walls were painted a pale blue that looked white in the light. The tables were made of plastic, as were the seats. Everything was cheap and easy to clean.
If it wasn’t so cold outside, Birgitta would have gone out to the local park to eat her lunch in the fresh air. She preferred it outside, away from everyone else. Her colleagues were nice people but Birgitta knew they kept her at arm’s length. Like everyone else, they didn’t approve of her provocative personality and style.
Birgitta wouldn’t be shamed, though. Once she was finished pushing her salad from one side of the plate to the other, she reached into her bag and pulled out her dog-eared Viktor Redreich novel. On the front cover was a shirtless, muscled man with dark skin and glinting eyes. She held the book in her hands and admired the man’s jet black hair swooping back over his head in a sleek wave.
Romance stories had become a regular part of Birgitta’s life over the last few months. She’d happened upon one while shopping for groceries and bought it on a whim. Ever since she’d read that first steamy book, she’d been unable to stop herself from getting a new one every week. They’d become an obsession. It didn’t matter how much they cost, or how many books were in the series. She needed to read them all.
Fantasizing about the men on the front cover came naturally. While making love to her husband, she would often close her eyes and picture the hunky men on top of her instead. When she let her hands drift over Kent’s shoulders, she’d imagine their bulging muscles beneath her palms. When he pressed his thin lips against hers, she would imagine they were soft and plump.
Birgitta slid her finger between the pages opening the book and flicked through until she found her place—page one hundred and seven. The two lovers were together in bed, exploring each other’s bodies with their hands. Birgitta flipped back to the previous chapter, trying to remind herself of what had happened. Her eyes scanned the pages and she found herself reading one of the raunchy scenes.
Her heart raced in her chest, pumping blood all the way down to between her thighs. She clamped her thighs shut, trying to stop her arousal. It was too late, though. The heat was rising up to her cheeks, making her flustered. She knew that a colleague could come in at any moment to take their break and find her reading the book. The idea of getting caught only made her arousal more intense.
Time flew by as she read about the characters’ sordid love affair. The more of these books she read, the more she found herself thinking that maybe Swedish men weren’t for her. They were docile, so malleable. What fun was that? Birgitta wanted a man to challenge her, to stand up to her. She wanted some excitement in her life, instead of the monotony that she currently had.
Sure, Kent had supported her in whatever she wanted, but that didn’t seem to be enough for her now. She desired passion, intensity, fire like the women in the books she read. They had everything she wanted and more.
If only real life could be like it is in the books,she thought sadly.
She leaned back into her chair with the book cradled in her lap and read on. Birgitta could feel herself melting into the pages, becoming one with the main character. She could imagine herself naked between the bedsheets, letting her hands drift up and down the man’s muscular body.
Before Birgitta knew it, the end of her break arrived and it was time to get back to work. Sighing, she closed the book and tucked it back into her bag. She wanted to stay and read the rest, devour each and every page, but she had to earn a living and she couldn’t do that in the break room.
The afternoon was the busiest time at the Migration Agency. People would come into the office during their lunch breaks, take a number from the little machines, and wait to be called up to the desks. There, the agents would help them with applications for residency permits.
It was tiring work with heaps of paperwork to be filed at the end of every day, but it was rewarding. Not only did Birgitta go home satisfied that she’d spent her day helping people, but she got to meet a lot of different people from all cultures of the world.
That was something Birgitta always enjoyed—learning about different cultures. Most people she’d met shied away from it, keeping to their own Christian circles. Not Birgitta. Living in a safe, comfortable bubble wasn’t of interest to her.
She sauntered through the automatic double doors that opened up into the office space. To her right, at the front of the room, was a small reception desk where people could collect forms and get information. Behind it was a small seating area, with high-backed chairs for people to wait on. TV screens lined the walls displaying the numbers being called. Around the edges of the room were dozens of desks, each with an agent behind.
Their fingers tapped loudly against keyboards as they typed and their voices muttered quietly as they talked to the people they were helping. Despite the buzzing noise, the room was oddly quiet. Everyone waiting on the seats kept their voices to whispers, trying to be polite as they waited to be called.
Birgitta moved around the edges of the room, walking behind the desks of her co-workers to get back to her seat. Once she was back at her desk, she adjusted her chair to make sure she was fully supported. Gazing around the room as she fiddled with the buttons and levers beneath her seat she noticed a sea of beautiful, brown faces. Women with brightly colored scarves on their heads, tucked around their jaws and hairlines, framing their faces beautifully. All of them wore modest clothing which was something Birgitta wasn’t fond of, but she wasn’t going to judge them for it. They were living the life thattheywanted—Birgitta could respect that.
As she stared around the room, she couldn’t help but picture some of the young men with the women as the men in her books. They looked the part—young, handsome, and physically fit. Birgitta found herself looking at these men in a new light—instead of people to help they were now bodies to ogle. Now that she’d made the connection, she couldn’t stop herself from seeing it.
Trying to distract herself, she logged into her computer and began opening up all the apps she needed. While waiting for them to load, she pressed the red button on her desk, calling a new number. All the screens around the room lit up, reading275.
A short, rather round woman stood up and searched for the correct desk. When the woman saw Birgitta’s desk alight, she rushed over. A boy followed her, pushing a stroller across the red, patterned carpet. A beautiful baby girl with curly black hair was strapped inside the stroller, fast asleep. Her neck was craned off to one side in such a position that only children could find comfortable.
Birgitta instantly remembered when her daughter was that age—around two or three. It was a wonderful time. Watching her daughter learn the world and explore everything that it had to offer brought Birgitta so much joy. If she could have, she would’ve given her daughter the entire world.
The mother and son duo sat down, placing the stroller between them. Birgitta couldn’t stop herself from peering down at the sleeping, peaceful child.
“She’s beautiful,” Birgitta said.
She was met with confused looks.
“She’s beautiful,” Birgitta repeated, in English this time.
She could hear the heavy accent on her words, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they understood her.
