THIS ISN’T WORKING. Those were the most honest words Thomas had ever uttered. First, he sat me down at his apartment to talk. Next came a burdened sigh. His hazel eyes, which had inspired my love for a decade, were everywhere but on me. Those lips, which had caressed and danced with mine thousands of times, made the frown of a defeated man. He was ending it. Again.

“Jaz? You agree with me, right?” he said with a trembling voice.

This time I did. We had been dancing near the abyss for too long. Years of long distance only drove us closer to the edge. Me in my dream city, Amsterdam, him in Stockholm living his own Scandinavian dream. Until that moment, I would have immediately folded. Would have come over to him, kissed his hair, and asked him how he could say such a thing. Sure, things were not perfect, but we could have worked through it. We had always found a solution before. For some reason, that day felt different — despite still loving him. As I quietly looked over this man I adored, I felt the ice melting over me, revealing the warm, inviting glow of something I never expected to experience in such a situation...

“Relief!?” said Michaela, putting her cocktail down and shifting her entire body in my direction, giving me her full attention and focus.

“I know it’s weird,” I said after sipping on my old fashioned, the two of us deep in our breakup-discussion bubble. “But that’s how I feel.”

“Sure,” said Michaela. “But you’re turning thirty next week. I’m glad you’re not devastated, but how do you feel about the timing?”

The question aroused that same unsettling feeling I got when I turned twenty-nine. The surrounding chatter barely registered while I searched myself. I felt a world away from my friends, who were gathered around me for my early birthday drinks at our favourite rooftop bar. Behind us were the night lights of Amsterdam-Noord. In the corner were my work colleagues, busy with office gossip. Meanwhile, I sat there looking ahead to a life without Thomas. I took another sip of my drink to wash the lingering uncertainty away before answering.

“Better now than later,” I said with a shrug.

“True,” said Michaela. “I’m proud of you. I’m just surprised you’re not freaking out.”

I barely gave her words a chance to sink in before looking across for a diversion.

“So, where's Kate?” I said.

Michaela was on it. She scanned our congregation.

“There she is,” said Michaela, sitting up. “Kate!” she commanded over the chatter.

Kate turned her head suddenly to catch who called her, then walked over to us looking like a vision.

“Hello, my gorgeous ones,” she said in her sweet and loving voice.

Kate was stunning. She had men and women throwing themselves at her, but never blinked. She was happily married to her high school sweetheart. Her life was seemingly perfect, as was she, which made me feel the exact opposite. I was about to spill the breakup details to her at work when she was interrupted by our boss, who called her in for an emergency client call — leaving me hanging and reminded who the favourite was.

“So babe, Jaz is relieved about Thomas,” Michaela said with a twinkle in her eyes which had me noticing.

“I guess that’s better than being devastated,” said Kate.

“That’s what I said,” replied Michaela.

I melted. From the crown of my head to my feet. There was nothing more reassuring than seeing my girls on matching wavelengths. It was because I was turning thirty that I was relieved. A part of me missed Thomas, and was terrified of going it alone, but at least I still had time to make the most of the situation. Europe was on the cusp of spring, and I had dodged the winter phase of the breakup. No nostalgia when hearing certain songs. No stuffing my face with salted caramel ice cream. No makeovers or soul-searching trips to India. Only my own company, and me open for anything. I counted myself lucky.

 Michaela shifted in her chair and leaned her head to the side.

“So when you say you’re relieved, does that mean you’re ready to date, or do you want something physical only?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’m off work until the end of next week. I want to get out of Amsterdam and figure everything out before going to my parent’s. See what comes up.”

“That’s good,” said Kate. “Take your time. You could always pop into Vondel Cafe for some eye candy when you’re back. All the hot guys in Amsterdam go there.”

I observed Kate’s bright, innocent gaze and royal posture, her hands carefully placed on her lap. The thought of her lusting over some random guy popped into my head. Did she ever stray from her perfect life and into naughtier places? Even in her imagination?

“I guess I could,” I said, not really moved by the idea of window shopping.

Kate’s smile turned to a satisfied grin.

“You totally should,” said Michaela, piggy-backing on the idea. “Use next week as an opportunity.”

My Michi-radar went off. She was up to something.

“Opportunity, huh?” I said, taking her bait the way she was clearly hoping.

“Yeah,” said Michaela. “See what’s around.”

“Oh, spill it!” I said. “What’s up your sleeve?”

Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head with a chuckle. Like me, she knew what Michaela was like.

“Right, guys,” said Michaela, flicking her hair back, her chest coming forward.

Here we go. I braced myself for another of Michaela’s wild and wonderful ideas. That woman was the life of the party for a reason. My mind went to her annual bottomless house party — no pants, skirts or underwear allowed inside. Thomas had flipped when I suggested going.

“Hear me out,” continued Michaela. “I’ve got the perfect palette cleanser to prepare you for single life, Jaz.”

My senses brightened as Michaela searched through her phone then handed it to me. On it I found an image of a party invitation. Two intersecting handcuff chains decorated a black canvas, with the following text underneath:

The event was on Saturday. In two days. I scoffed and shook my head, handing the phone back to Michaela.

“A sex party?” I said.

“Why not?” said Michaela. “You loved hearing my stories about Berlin. All the kinky stuff I got up to.”

“Sure,” I said, twirling my straw in circles. “I liked hearing about it. I never saw myself doing it.”

“Never? All I know is that—” Michaela leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You always spoke about how shit the sex with Thomas became. How quickly he finished, and how in his head he was. How you wanted more.”

Yep. My sex life with Thomas had been nauseating me for years. I missed what we had. My reflection in his pupils as he thrust his fiery love into me. The careful attention he paid with his mouth to the entirety of my body. The feeling that I was the only woman on the planet. We went from pure, unbridled love-making, to something bordering on mechanical, soulless sex, all in a couple of years. As the fights piled up, and the insults and accusations grew harsher, my heart tightened shut. I felt constantly worn out. Without the fuel of youthful devotion, the sex grew empty. We had been spluttering on fumes since. We went from missionary to doggy style and back, and when we had been drinking, I sometimes got to ride on top — when he could keep it up. Joy.

“Right,” I said. “But not more dicks. Just better sex.”

“You’ll get both in Berlin,” said Michaela, steepling her fingers, her sales persona coming out.

“Michi, she’s just come out of a nine-year relationship,” said Kate. “Give the girl a break. Maybe a date or two in a few months, not a sex party this weekend.”

“It’s a sex-positive party,” said Michaela. “Kinky dress and dancing. Sex is optional. The underground parties are something else entirely. I wouldn’t do that to her. She’s not ready for that.”

“Don’t do it, Jaz,” said Kate, sensing my temptation. “I wouldn’t.”

Good old Kate. Of course it made sense to get back in the dating game the proper way. Yet to my surprise, a fuzzy sensation formed in my lower belly and caused a quiver between my legs. Michaela’s devilish stare was unrelenting. She had waited until my third cocktail before bringing up her insane plan for me. Now she was going in, knowing how much of a push-over I was when tipsy. The girl was good. She was also my best friend for a reason.

I considered the idea further, refusing to look Kate in the eyes.

“That’s where I check out,” said Kate finally.

She walked off, looking me dead in the eye as she passed. She finished with a wink and floated off to grace the others with her presence. It seemed she had better things to do than getting involved in sex adventures. I was fine with that.

“She’s a terrible help,” said Michaela, poking her tongue out at Kate.

“Maybe in this case,” I said, sitting up. “So. Are you going to this thing?”

Michaela sighed and shook her head, surprising me with her reaction.

“I wish,” she said. “Hendrick and I are driving to his parent’s place in Enschede. We haven’t been to a kink party in ages. I didn’t tell anyone this, so keep it between you and me. We’re thinking of starting a family.”

I twitched and leaned forward suddenly, my face brightening up.

“Michi, that’s wonderf—”

“Shh,” she cut in, her eyes swelling open.

“That’s so exciting,” I whispered.

“To be honest, I’m terrified,” said Michaela with vulnerable eyes.

I felt her slipping, and held her up with a reassuring smile.

“But we’re ready,” she said. “I think.” She shook her head to regather her wits. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me right now.”

This was not part of her strategy to sell me the party, I realised. It was real. My best friend was going to try for a baby. The same teenage girl who would drag me to the shops to get a look at her latest crush. The same woman who at one stage was attending weekly sex orgies, and who once had an open relationship with a fifty-year-old painter, was looking to be a mother. How times had changed. What had I done in my twenties? What reckless abandon had I experienced during my relationship with Thomas? A lot less than I wanted. Was I ready to be a mother now like Michaela, and accept the regrets of a life barely lived? It was something I needed to put some thought into. And soon.

“Jaz, this is perfect for you,” said Michaela. “I wasn’t going to say anything until you were ready, but clearly you’re fine.”

“This weekend is too soon,” I said. “Plus, I want to go with you.”

“You moved to Amsterdam with a suitcase and no friends,” said Michaela. “You can handle this.”

“I had you,” I said.

“You still do,” said Michaela. “But you’ve also got yourself. Don’t forget that.”

Alone. In Berlin. The city of debauchery and sin. The thought had my insides in a spin cycle. No way.

Michaela studied my hesitation. What would a salesperson do in such a situation? Go for the kill. Naturally. She reached into her handbag and took out a present wrapped in shiny gold paper, with a card on top that read Jazzy Jaz — her nickname for me.

“For you, my darling,” she said.

I received my early birthday present without a word. Opened the gift carefully from the sides and slid the cardboard box out without creasing the paper. Lifted the flap, and found two items. The first was an erotic novel called ‘Lover of Prey.’ I caught myself lingering on the cover. It showed a tanned, muscle-bound man with perfect abs stalking a dreamy-eyed, black woman through her bedroom door as she lay on her bed, reading in lingerie with the light reflecting off her curvaceous body. I turned to the back and caught the first couple of lines of the blurb. I never read romance, let alone erotica. Cheesy. And worse still — written by a man.

I turned my eye to the other present. A black ‘vibrating bullet.’ I shook my head, looking up at Michaela with a bemused smile. She was something else, that girl.

“This was to help you cope,” she said. “Obviously you don’t need that. But read the book on the train, and the vibr—” She lowered her voice. “Take it with you to Passion Parade.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Thank you. Really. This is great. But I can’t do this.”

Michaela placed her eternally warm hand over my cold fingers.

“You can,” she said, holding me in her worldly eyes, giving me the melting feeling that everything would be fine. “There’s no right time.”

I shook my head to break her spell, but could still feel its pull inside me. I thought back on all the times Thomas had dangled the breakup stick over me. I could have taken the untraveled road many times, risking losing a flawed love for something more fulfilling. Instead, I looked down what felt like a dark, treacherous path and chickened out, staying with the same boyfriend and cushy job because it felt safer. Now I was standing out in the open again, with only a party invitation for a map, and an overwhelming sense that the clock was ticking. Michaela’s sharp, watchful eyes steered me where I needed to go.

“Ok. Maybe, I’ll go,” I said.

“That’s my Jazzy Jaz!” yelled Michaela too loudly, forcing me to instantly regret opening my mouth.

“I said maybe!” I hissed.

“Let’s say you do go,” said Michaela, lowering her voice again. “You need to be clear about a couple of things. What space do you want to play in?”

I broke eye contact, caught off guard by the question. Sub. Brat. Dom. Switch. Michaela had experimented with all of the BDSM roles. She even had sex with a guy who let her slap his face and called her ‘mistress.’ So ultimately, she was a switch. I had zero experience and zero idea what I was.

“Uh...” I said. “A sub, I guess?”

“Babe,” said Michaela bluntly. “Every woman assumes she’s a sub. It feels great to let go and let the dom control things. Do lots of that. But I know you. There’s more. The least you can do is make him work for it.”

Teasing and provoking a man did sound fun. But was I a brat?

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I don’t know yet.”

“Fine,” said Michaela. “Next thing. Do you know your hard boundaries? Do you want to do group stuff? If so, guys or girls, or both?”

Uh, what? I had no clue what to do with one guy, let alone two, let alone a girl. I had tickled the idea of a three-way once before shutting it down. Too out there.

I rubbed my wrist for a second, then stopped myself. To be fair, Michaela’s wild stories over the years had widened my sexual lens. Lately I had even considered an open relationship with Thomas; an idea I had labelled insane and never uttered to anyone. I wondered if I should tell her about that now? Or the disturbing fantasies I had been having recently. The scenarios I had dreamt up. The punishments I wanted.

“I’ve never done anything like that,” I said. “How am I supposed to know what I like?”

Don’t worry, you’ll know, came a voice from inside, sending shivers through me. I shifted in my seat. Where did that come from?

"You’ll know when the time comes," said Michaela, echoing my thoughts. “Go easy. One step at a time, and always trust your body. You’ve got this.” She smirked suddenly. “Basically my advice for anyone trying anal for the first time.”

Jesus.

“Oh,” she added, sitting up suddenly. “I never told you that story, did I?”

“Michi!” I said with a slap of her hand.

Michaela could barely keep it together. That woman loved to take it a step too far. I watched my best friend laughing to herself and could see she was really getting into the idea of me going to this party. She was also making me feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing. Holy crap. I needed to give her something.

“Do you think Thomas could have handled an open relationship?” I said.

Michaela lowered her glass and stared at me, holding her sip before swallowing.

“You’re kidding,” she said. “Thomas?”

“It could’ve worked. A relationship with a nice guy, and exploring the other stuff with someone else.”

“The right guy will give you both,” said Michaela. “Thomas was never it.”

I nodded, but could not stomach her words. Thomas was the right and wrong guy rolled into one. Our early years proved that we were a sexual fit. But too many times I stood naked in front of the mirror with that tight longing in my chest, wishing he would come up from behind with an open heart and a raging hard dick and just... well... fuck me the hell open! How else could I have put it? The thought of it caused me to shudder as I sat there in my chair watching Michaela plotting my hypothetical orgy. If only Thomas could have found a way to transcend the faults in our relationship, to overpower the pain with some masculine might. Eventually, I lost hope in that. But not in my desire for passion that would break me out of my prison. I carried it like a raging fire between my legs. The fantasies drifted out of our relationship and into the public realm. Musicians. Yoga instructors. Married men. Being caught between Thomas and that fire was suffocating me — until he set me free last week.

“Right, everyone,” we heard Kate say to our friends, turning our attention outwards. “As Jasmin won’t be around, we need to sing loud enough for her to still hear us on her big day. So get your lovely singing voices ready. Haaappy Birthday to you,” she began, and was joined by a chorus of our friends, followed by the other strangers drinking around us.

My face almost exploded with embarrassment, and I covered it for the entire song with both hands. A big applause broke out at the end, and I was forced to look up and smile at my beaming friends. If I was in denial about it before, I had to let that go now. I was turning thirty next weekend. Single. Alone.

Two cocktails later, everyone had left except for Michaela and me. Michaela was busy typing a long text into her phone, before she looked up at me with the same crazed expression she used to have back in high school before we went off on another adventure.

“Hendrick wanted to leave early for Enschede tomorrow,” said Michaela. “But I just told him I had important business to take care of. Let’s go back to yours and get you packed and ready.”

“What? I didn’t say yes, Mich-”

“Your eyes did,” she cut in.

Someone help me.

Michaela paid our tab and we left, wandering down the narrow, charmingly-lit Amsterdam streets. With doubts circling my mind like vultures, we crossed over one of the city’s many canals, leaving behind the warm orange hue and entering the red light district. Michaela’s attention was straight ahead, while mine drifted to the side. I locked eyes with one of the beautiful women in the windows, who was wearing a bright-white bikini. She perked her lips and blew me a kiss, the power and serenity in her eyes putting me on a cloud that carried me all the way home and through my doorway.

As Michaela started tearing into my wardrobe, rejecting anything that was not remarkably sexy, the whole thing started to feel real. Too real. Panic shot through me.

“Michi,” I said. “Seriously, I don’t know about this.”

Wrinkles appeared above Michaela’s eyes, and her expression darkened.

“Do you remember our trip to Barcelona when we were seventeen?” she said. “Juan Jose and Roberto?”

I thought back before a smile found its way to the corners of my mouth. Of course. The two middle-aged men we met at the beach while on holiday, which our parents somehow agreed to let us go on alone. We ended up at some random apartment with the two of them. With the Spanish music on blast and wine flowing, the sexual tension quickly followed. The age difference made us conscious of acting ‘grown up,’ so Michaela and I started making out in front of them. Surprise, surprise, they loved it. Roberto grabbed Michaela’s wrist and they disappeared inside. Juan Jose put his sights on me, and eventually had me on the sofa with two fingers deep inside me while sucking on my neck. I opened my eyes briefly and looked at his free hand, freaking when I caught the bright-white tan mark where his wedding ring should have been. I ended up storming in on Roberto’s bare-white butt in my face while he thrust into Michaela in missionary. At first she was furious with me for dragging her out like that. Later we laughed about it. Our bond as sisters was forged in the fires of dangerous, young passion. A fire that continued for Michaela, and stopped for me when Thomas came into my life.

“What about it?” I said.

“I want you to remember who you were before Thomas.”

“A reckless teenager?”

Michaela made a disappointed face.

“A wild woman ready for anything,” she said.

The windows were closed, but I felt a cool breeze pass over me. Her words had stirred up the spirit of the past, but that was all it was — the past. There was an emptiness inside me now, and I knew I had to fill it. For that, I needed a new adventure. I finally understood what Michaela was getting at.

I went over to the drawer and fetched my white, see-through ‘datenight string.’ Stood in front of the full-body mirror, pulled off my jeans and underwear and slid it on. Michaela seemed to struggle to process what was happening. Her eyes darted up and down, and her mouth slowly went slack. She had seen me naked before, but never like this. I pushed my butt in her direction.

“How do I look?” I said.

“Are you serious?” she responded, finally meeting my eyes. “Sexy as hell. What else?”

“Good,” I said. “So let’s do this.”

Her face brightened.

“We’re doing this?” she said.

“We’re doing this!” I cried with a firm nod.

“Right,” said Michaela with a broad smile, rubbing her hands together and beginning what in sales would be called the paperwork. “Outfit.”

I shrugged slowly with a pout while changing back into my usual underwear.

“Leather pants?” I said. “Whip?”

“Hey, don’t joke around,” said Michaela. “If you bring a whip, be prepared to use it. Do you have something sexy and black? Like a lingerie set you put on for a special date?”

“I have this,” I said, pulling on the lace thread of the white datenight string. “But I only wore it for Thomas.”

“Not anymore,” said Michaela, taking it from me and tossing it in my luggage.

I put on an electronic set from some Berlin DJ to set the mood, and we continued scouring my stuff for more clothes to pack. We rocked our heads to the beat while creating a pile of discarded clothes in the middle of my bedroom floor. I started dancing over the mess, and got a bewildered stare from Michaela.

“Look at you!” she said. “Little Miss Clean Freak has lost her mind.”

“Your fault,” I said, moving my hips side to side.

“Man, I wish I was going with you,” she said, joining me above the pile of clothes and play-grinding against me.

“If only,” I said, practising a little twerk in my mirror.

The two of us collapsed onto my bed and lay side by side, looking up at the ceiling while my drunken head spun in circles.

“Did you ever get judged for the things you did in Berlin?” I said.

“Sure,” said Michaela. “Most people didn’t say anything, but there was always this underlying judgement. Like their brains were ticking. Not that I ever hid it. I’m sick of the taboo, you know?”

“I get it,” I said. “I just want to see a guy I like and have him take me then and there. No guilt, no questions asked.”

“Jaz!” yelled out Michaela with a deafening cackle that trembled the mattress beneath us and probably woke the neighbours.

“I don’t care anymore,” I said with a shrug. “It’s been a rough nine years.”

“Apparently not rough enough,” said Michaela, spanking the side of my ass. “Oh, that gives me an idea. Get your laptop out.”

I did as she said, lifting the lid and entering my password. Michaela took over immediately and opened a website for a luxury hotel resort in Berlin.

“What’s this?” I said.

“Äden,” said Michaela with a squint, engrossed by the screen’s contents. “You’ll love it. Gorgeous place with gorgeous people in the centre of Berlin. Perfect for you.”

I scanned the photos. It looked like it belonged in a movie.

“And it’s got the darkrooms,” said Michaela, looking up at me again with that scheming smile.

“Darkrooms?” I said, freezing up. Things were starting to get weird.

“It’s a hidden maze inside the resort. Absolute darkness for anything you want to do. Anything. You get total discretion. Hendrick and I had a four-way there with a couple who we never met — or saw.”

“You did what?” I said with a gasp. “I still can’t believe mama orgy wants a baby,” I added, shaking my head.

“Don’t remind me,” said Michaela. “Shit,” she then blurted. “It’s almost 4. I have to go, babe. I promised Hendrick. Practising being good mother material.”

Hello, reality. Michaela’s demeanour changed instantly, one moment living vicariously through me, the next fretting over her trip to see the in-laws. She looked at me once over.

“This is a good thing,” she followed up.

“I hope so,” I said, getting up with her.

“Have fun for me, lovely.”

“Thanks, Michi.”

One long, last hug and she was gone, leaving me with terror in my veins and gratitude in my belly. A tornado had torn through my apartment and blown out all my doubts. With fun time over, I switched my phone from aeroplane mode to normal, and a text from my mother immediately came through:

What time do you land next Friday, sweetie? Looking forward to seeing you!

At the end was a flirt emoji. Why could she not be normal? No matter how many times I told her, she kept using it. I checked my flight booking and texted her the time. It was six months since I had been home to London, so naturally she was excited I would be there for my birthday. I was too. Even though I was fine with the breakup, I still craved the love and attention that I only got at home. Having my clothes washed, ironed and folded. The sweet meringue and strawberry taste of the Eaton Mess awaiting me when I arrived. My mother and I dressing up on Sunday for afternoon tea at the Huxley Grand Hotel. The morning cuppa and chats on the terrace. A whole weekend being pampered and taken care of. Daddy would be in his workroom fiddling with some new gadget of his. When he was in a good mood, he would join us for a while. Ask me some awkward questions about drugs in Amsterdam. My mother would have a laugh at his expense, he would escape to his room, and the cycle would repeat.

I only recently became aware of how much they hid for the sake of our ‘happy’ family. I was at the shops with daddy last year when he ran into a beautiful woman from his past who I had never seen. His jittery body language and the way his eyes lit up told me she meant something to him, as did her wistful look while they bid each other farewell. I complimented him on his charm with the lady, and noted that I had never seen it with my mother. When he said to me “There are some things your mum and I don’t share,” it struck me with full force. He had regrets and unfulfilled desires like any other married person. He was only human. Reaching the end of my twenties had taken off the rose-coloured glasses and force-fed me a bitter pill. After that, I saw my future with Thomas differently, and it looked dim.

That outlook was improving quickly as I focussed back on the party. I made an online reservation at Äden and set my alarm for 10:00 am. Booked the 12:00 pm fast train, which would get me to Berlin by the late afternoon. Got into my PJs, brushed my teeth and washed off my makeup. I was wiped, but the excitement kept me awake. I flicked through the pages of Lover of Prey and tested my new bullet vibrator against my cheek before stuffing them both into my handbag. Slipped into bed, and took another look at the party invitation. (Un)dress to impress. I crawled out of my skin at the thought of having sex in front of a group of people. Then my phone vibrated again. My heart clamped up and skipped a beat when I saw the message.

Jaz, I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. Can we talk?

I remained mesmerised for a long time before lowering the phone. Dammit, Thomas. Why did he have to text now? Could he not have waited until Monday? Let me have my fun and then pull on my heartstrings? I left it. I could write him back on Sunday after the party. With that I put the phone down on the bedside table and stared at the ceiling, my mind circling. Michaela and a week of freedom had shown me that I was hungry to explore, to reach dizzying heights before even thinking of settling down. That need was not going anywhere now. The horny genie was out of the bottle.

But I could not deny the impact that Thomas’ message was having on me. I lay there powerless as the familiar shadow of the past descended on me. Was one text all it took? I let my body sink into the mattress and grew acutely conscious of the paint colour of the wall. My only company now was Amsterdam’s night sounds and an empty apartment. I could hear and feel my breath rise and fall. Could see my chest follow its rhythm. And for the first time since he left me, I felt it. I was alone. Relief was not going to save me now. I should have known it was too good to be true. Michaela had seen it all over my face.

At that second a strange idea hit me, bringing with it a shooting star of hope which immediately soothed my heartache. A compromise. An olive branch. I sat up and fetched my phone. It was too late to go back. I was certain of it. But that did not mean all hope between us was lost. I thought about my earlier idea, having Thomas by my side, and the ‘right’ guy behind me, satisfying me the way Thomas never could. Was it crazy to ask such a thing? Definitely. Was it right? Questionable. But if Thomas wanted back in, he would need to deal with a new reality. It was time to roll the dice, all the way down into the Berlin underground, and see where they landed. The deeper they travelled, the better. Thomas swore he would never return to Berlin. I knew that. But my instinct told me to do it anyway. I hit reply:

Meet me in Berlin.

I felt safe underwater. The tranquillity within the depths calmed my senses and brought me into my body. The world went on pause, and I was free to roam the abyss. Each stroke took me further from reality, and deeper into myself, until the pressure in my lungs reminded me that I was on borrowed time. I turned upwards to the surface, where life awaited me. My doubts. My regrets. My past and future.

Time resumed just as I emerged into the sunlight, sucking in a huge breath. Äden unpaused itself, and the current of nude people at our hotel resort flowed once again. In the middle of it all was a grumpy Thomas. He was reclined on his sun lounger at the other side of the outdoor heated pool while staring into the distance, one leg crossed over the other and a cigarette in hand. I rose my head slowly over the edge, stalking him and that stinking death stick. I placed my hands on the edge and lifted myself out with a mouthful of water. Just as he took another puff, I spat on his face, making sure to hit the smoke as well. He twisted his body away in shock, and the cigarette fell out of his hand.

“Jaz!” he yelled. “What the fuck?”

I brought my tiny frame over him, placing a hand on his chest and moving to kiss his cheek.

“You’re wet,” he said, frowning and turning his face away.

His reaction was a blunt reminder that the old days were over. The shadow of the breakup loomed over us, even when we lay in paradise. I kissed his shoulder instead and shifted over to my chair. Not the smartest way to get him out of his funk, but worth a try. He had been in a state since breakfast, after I had brought up the party, along with the idea of opening our relationship.

“Are we going to talk about this?” I said.

“About what?” snapped Thomas without looking at me. “You in an orgy of guys while I watch on like a loser?”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Jesus, Thomas. It’s not like that.”

“What happened to you last week?” he said with an unsightly look.

“Nothing,” I said. “Anyway, even if tonight was an orgy, you’d be among those guys.”

Thomas’ legs hit the ground suddenly, and he almost knocked the table over. His face turned bright red, and he stood and marched off.

Whoops. The hot knife cutting through my chest told me I had gone too far, and that I should go after him. Her voice inside told me to relax and order a bottle of Rheingau riesling; my and Thomas’ favourite white wine, and go-to celebration drink. He might not have been in the mood to celebrate, but I sure was. We were here for a party, after all.

The wine arrived, and Thomas came back over half an hour later and retook his position beside me. He poured himself a glass, and seemed to have calmed down. I melted into my chair and enjoyed a moment of reprieve. It was so surreal. We were attending a sex party. Well, sex-positive. It was a chance to dress down, dance, and see where things led. Dip our toes in the kink scene. Let our inhibitions free and see what happened. I was not going to join an orgy of guys, thank you very much.

Well, actually... Why would I hold myself back for him? He was the one who broke it off last week. If he wanted to be a child about it, he would get no say in the matter. So what did I want exactly? An orgy, or not? I looked around at the surrounding scenery. It was nice to be in a gorgeous resort, but if asked to blow the candles on my birthday cake, I would not be wishing for paradise. I had no fixed expectations for this weekend — except one. It had to be hot as hell. I wanted passion. Wild, indescribable experiences. I wanted to melt into an ocean of bliss, to be devoured by a wild beast.

Wild beast. I looked at Thomas again, his dishevelled brown locks, his tense shoulders and lanky frame. He had lit another cigarette and was biting his nails while staring into space with his sad eyes, his baby-smooth body limp on the sun lounger. I sighed and finished my glass. For once I wanted him to let go and enjoy the moment. Maybe even forget himself in it like during our university days. There was no sign of that cheeky, vibrant Thomas who pressed all the buttons on the elevator and made his move. In his place was a pale and anxious shell of a man, lost in his head. Seeing him that way made me nervous. Not to mention my worry about how he would act at Passion Parade. Now I was overthinking.

“Babe,” I said. “Do you know what you’re wearing tonight?”

Thomas maintained his gaze into the distance. For a time it seemed he had not heard me, until he shrugged.

“Have we decided we’re going to this thing?” he said.

My fingers and shoulders went tight.

“I’ve decided,” I said with force.

“I’ve heard there are better sex parties in Berlin. Classier ones.”

“And where did you hear that?” I shot back. “An online forum?”

He seemed hurt by my remark, and turned away while sucking in what remained of his cigarette. It was happening again. The Thomas effect. My jaw was stiff, my mind was ticking at a hundred miles. I took a few calming breaths and came out of it. Turned away from him and focussed on the environment. Tried to appreciate where I was. I was not going to let him ruin this weekend.

The outdoor heaters at Äden were burning bright while smoke rose from the heated pool. Berlin had been blessed with one of the few clear, sunny April days. April does what it wants, the Germans would say about the unpredictable weather this time of year. Äden really was the perfect choice. It had a sophisticated blend of white leather upholstery, dark timber facades and lush trees. The vibe was dream-like. Nobody was rushing or causing a fuss. Looking good and passing time were the only priorities. There were no clocks. The surfaces were spotless, the lighting impeccable. Outside was radiant, the ambience inside relaxed you instantly. Nudity was compulsory in all areas, but the mood remained civilised. There was the odd raised voice or muffled laughter, otherwise people politely made way with charming smiles and floated by. It was like someone had incensed the air with opium, establishing a womb that nurtured you as you went about your pleasure.

I felt like a carefree child on the beach; I loved having an excuse to be naked. On the other hand, there was nowhere to hide from prying eyes. Thomas had no issues with it at all. Being from East Germany, he was a natural nudist. I turned my head to check on him and found an empty chair. The surrounding area showed nothing. He was gone. I paused, then found myself drawn to his towel, where I spotted a business card poking out from underneath. I looked behind me first, then pulled it out. ‘J&A’ was embossed on the top in black. In the middle was the name ‘Ana Nemati.’ Her mobile was on the bottom. Nothing else. Strange, I thought, feeling a papercut of jealousy. Thomas had disappeared twice now. Where the hell had he gone? The darkrooms? No way. Panic zapped me, and I was forced to my feet. After another glance at Thomas’ empty chair, I was overcome by an unsettling urge to go find him.

I strolled along the pool, made self-conscious by the glimpses from the sunbathing men and women. Most eyes were on me, but I felt my sight drawn towards a calm, steady presence sitting by the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the shimmering water. From my position I could see he was a big guy who took care of himself. The rest I learned from the people around him. He was typing something into his phone, and only paused to wave back to the random, passing person greeting him. An athletic-looking guy crouched next to him with a wide smile and fist-bumped him, exchanging some pleasantries before humbly leaving him to it. Women wandered by, flicking their hair and stealing a look. One of them playfully caressed his neck as she passed, exaggerating her hip movements and looking back. He must have been interrupted a half dozen times while I stood there, but gave every single person his attention, appearing unfazed by the whole thing.

It took me some time to remember the man I was looking for. I blinked a couple of times and moved to the indoor pool, which immediately consumed me. The domed ceiling above was a portal to elsewhere, the shimmering blue beneath an invitation into the deep. The building was three stories high, with pathways on each level lined by arches overlooking the water, covered by majestic see-through white curtains that ran from the ceiling to the floor. I found yet more people lounging with their skin on display. There was no Thomas among them, so I went inside the sauna area.

Upon approaching the floor-to-ceiling pane of glass, the light reflected off the surface and revealed my exposed body. I focussed on my pear-shaped breasts, which hung too far to the sides for my liking, and my oversized, pink-brown nipples which covered way too much of the surface. My lips and mouth were too small. People constantly told me my blue eyes and high cheekbones looked elegant, but I thought they only made me look like a little girl. Why did everyone in this place have to be so damn beautiful?

I turned away, towards a separation wall offset by a human-sized gap. Intrigued, I left my reflection behind to take a closer look. There was no sign to indicate what it was. I could easily slip inside, but it was pitch black. I looked around. Everyone seemed happy in their own world. A woman got off her chair and entered the sauna, closing the door behind her. I focussed again into the black. Took a breath and slipped through. It was deeper than I expected. Then it hit me. The darkrooms. The light from outside illuminated a corridor which bent right. I followed it, taking slow, cautious steps until I reached the corner.

Rhythmic, hot-blooded breathing came from inside. Each exhalation was more urgent than the last. I hugged the wall, my breathing barely making it past my throat. The unmistakable and sudden sound of a spank ricocheted off the walls, making me jump. I froze like a statue, my naked skin pushed up against the cold concrete, my lips parted, my ears like radars. I stared intently behind me, where only dim orange light shone through from the sauna area. I waited for a long time, but nobody came. All clear. For now.

The rasping seized my attention again. It grew louder. Faster. Like a runner on the final stretch. My pulse quickened to match, and I momentarily forgot where I was. A moan slipped out from the black. Then a grunt, as though a wild animal had joined in on the action. The pace accelerated, forcing me out of my body. Grunt after grunt was paired with an ecstatic moan, before another hard smack almost made me yell out. The man cursed in German. I pushed off the wall, half my body urging me to flee, the other half mesmerised, my heart banging like a jackhammer.

No chickening out, I told myself, stepping forward while placing my feet stealthily on the floor one at a time. I hugged the wall and stretched my neck around the next corner, hoping to get closer for the moment of climax.

The thrusting stopped.

I froze again, holding my breath and listening into the black.

“Don’t be shy,” came a high-pitched, playful voice from inside.

My head spun, and I stumbled backwards. I stopped again at the corner and listened, hearing the laughter of the two men. Then came a pause, before the heavy panting resumed at a slower pace. I pressed my palm to my heart and exhaled. My legs were trembling. I tip-toed towards the exit, slipping out of the darkness and back into the safety of the sauna lounge.

 A woman on a deck chair looked up from her book and directed her judging eyes at me while I hurried through the dimly-lit brown and gold room. Yes. Look at the naughty girl. At the same time, an older man emerged naked from the sauna. His cheeks were flushed red, and he rubbed a hand over his face while looking me up and down with serious eyes.

His stare was like dozens of spiders crawling on me, and it forced me out of the room and through the locker area. Outside I squeezed my eyes shut to protect them from the sting of the sunlight reflecting off the bright blue water. It took a moment to acclimatise, and to remember that I was at a hotel resort, not some seedy sex dungeon.

At the corner of the pool, I stood looking out. People were lounging, drinking, laughing. The creepy man walked by me and stole one last look, gifting me a final, unwanted shiver. Thomas’ sun lounger was still empty. I turned and found him in the distance, gliding through the water with his head up. He reached the end and turned back, kicking off and veering to the edge before lifting himself out. He ran a hand through his soaking hair and returned to our spot. His boyish glow and cold expression created a picture of a male model owning the runway.

The unpleasant feelings from our fight instantly ceded. There was the man I invited to Berlin. I smiled to myself, wanting to feel the sensation of his body close to mine. To pull my head into his chest and let him fondle my back the way he always did; with the gentle strokes of a harp player creating music inside me. This time he would also be wet, so he had nothing to moan about. I stepped forward to go over and reclaim him.

“He’s such a dish,” I overheard a woman’s voice from the right, causing me to stop. She continued speaking to someone. “Darling, if you’re the main course, he’s dessert. I’m going to lick him clean.”

I turned and found a couple in their mid-to-late thirties on a pair of sun loungers. The woman hungry for Thomas struck me immediately, appearing like a vixen goddess. She had a tall shapely body, lush firm breasts and vanilla skin. Her sharp, intense eyes, hawkish nose and dark features matched her predatory words. Her face was like a porcelain doll’s, and her rose-coloured lips were plump, giving her a girlish pout. Jet-black, dead-straight hair gleamed while running down to her waist.

“I didn’t know you were into teenagers,” said the boyfriend with a gravelly voice that reverberated inside me.

My face immediately burned up at the sight of him. The guy by the pool. I could see every detail now. He was a hulk, brutish and chiselled. His trained chest protruded through the thick brown hair covering it. His abs were cut, and his shoulders were like pillows. His jawline drew me to his torso, which was angled with perfect symmetry. Rough, well-groomed brown hair gave him a movie-star look of quiet dominance. There was a force behind his presence which told me he could handle himself in a crowd, in business, and especially in bed. He was smiling proudly at his own joke, his teeth sparkling, his lips like candy, his ocean-grey eyes cunningly beautiful.

Then those eyes looked at me.

I twitched, and my skin lit up. His smile faded, and his eyes sharpened. His stare incinerated my oxygen like a wildfire raging through a fragile village, wiping out everything it touched. His eyes sharpened further and cut deeper, unwavering in their intensity. Then he smiled that gorgeous, devious smile again, and my power returned to me. I remembered what he had said about Thomas. I crossed my arms and pursed my lips, looking him up and down.

“That little thing looks like it belongs on a teenager,” I said, signalling between his legs and waving my pinky finger.

Where did that come from?

His mouth fell open, and I could see his face go slowly red. Even his demeanour changed, and for a second I thought I was looking at a little boy.

“Excuse me?” said the vixen goddess, sitting up and looking at me.

There was a split moment where I was sure she recognised me. Yet I had no idea who this woman was.

“Thomas isn’t a teenager,” I said, my heart pounding.

“Of course,” said the woman, now smiling. “Thomas is your boyfriend.”

I did a double-take.

“You know Thomas?” I said.

She looked over at Thomas, who was staring curiously in our direction. She twinkled her fingers seductively at him, to which he lifted his head even further to get a better look.

“Yes, we met earlier. He didn’t tell you?”

Ana Nemati. The papercut of jealousy became a knife.

“No,” I said, looking at the hulk again, still radiating from his stare. The little boy was gone, and the man smirked, having collected himself. My vision followed his massive arms hanging at the side.

“What’s your name?” he demanded to know with his booming voice while lying comfortably on his sun lounger.

“Jasmin,” I said, my eyes snapping up when I realised I had lingered too long.

“Jasmin,” he repeated, trying my name on for size. It fit him perfectly.

I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. I could barely feel my body now, the tension too much. I blushed, putting my hand over my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out.”

“No, it’s fine, sweetie,” said Ana. “You had a right to speak up. Jordan can be juvenile sometimes,” she added while turning to her boyfriend, who ignored her.

“Jordan,” I said, trying him on as well.

“Do you live in Berlin, Jasmin?” said Ana.

“No, I’m only here for the weekend. It’s kind of a celebration for my thirtieth.”

“How lovely,” Ana said with a warm, feminine smile.

Wow. Did Thomas tell them nothing about me?

“You’re Ana,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, bending forward and shaking my hand with a firm grip. “I thought you said Thomas didn’t mention me?”

“I found your card,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“I see,” said Ana, appearing to be thinking before relaxing again. “So, how do you two plan to celebrate?”

“Um,” I said, hesitating, wondering if I should admit where I was going. They seemed like they could handle it. “Well... It’s called ‘Passion Parade.’ A friend told me about it.”

Ana and Jordan locked eyes briefly.

“We know it,” she said. “It’s a kink party.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Fetish dress code. Dance floor, and a private area for whoever wants to do naughty stuff.”

“Right. How do you know about it?”

“We know the couple who run it. Good friends of ours. Interesting way to spend a birthday. It’s tonight, right?”

I stole a glance of Jordan, who was quietly taking me in like a lemonade on a warm day.

“My birthday is next Saturday. But the party is tonight, yes,” I said, blinking twice and turning back to Ana.

“Are you a regular in the scene?” said Ana. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at any of the parties.”

“No, it’s our first time. A friend told me about it,” I said, turning hot when I realised I had already mentioned my friend.

“Aha,” said Ana, smiling smugly. “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun,” she added with a hint of sarcasm.

“What?” I said, scrunching my face, which burnt even hotter.

“It’s just that...” Ana shook her head dismissively. “It’s probably not for you.”

“What’s not for me?”

“I’m just thinking, if it’s your first time, you might want to do something more memorable.”

“Tonight’s going to be memorable,” I said, straightening up.

“Passion Parade’s fun. But your thirtieth only happens once. You might want to go to a real party.”

I took a step back and crossed my arms.

“And which party is that exactly?”

“Do you have experience with group stuff?” said Ana.

“You mean...”

“Orgies, dear. Underground parties.”

“Oh,” I said, flinching when I realised what she was talking about. I heard Michaela’s words again. She’s not ready for that. I brushed them off. Maybe I was. “Well, I’ve done threesomes,” I lied.

Ana smiled amusedly and looked towards Jordan. The tension hung thick as she seemed to be waiting on him. He studied me carefully, lingering for a long time. My throat hardened into a rock. Finally, he shrugged.

“We host ours once a month,” said Ana. “At a secret location. You’ll find most of the Äden regulars there, among others. The vibe will blow you away. Lucky for you, the next one is tonight.”

“Hey, babe,” said Thomas, appearing from nowhere and placing a hand on my back. “Hey, Ana,” he said with a lift of his chin as though she were an old friend. He ignored Jordan.

“Hello again, handsome,” said Ana with a sparkle in her eyes.

Jordan looked Thomas up and down with a blank expression.

“Are you talking about tonight?” said Thomas, looking at me.

“Yes,” said Ana. “I was just discussing it with Jasmin.”

“I was going to tell you about it,” said Thomas.

Were you? I thought, giving him a long stare.

“We can’t change our plans,” I blurted, turning back to Ana. “But thanks anyway.”

Ana reached over and handed me the same business card she had given Thomas.

“This one’s for you. If you change your mind, give me a call,” she said. “I can share the details with you then. It starts at midnight.”

“Sure,” I said, now feeling restless, uncomfortable having the four of us together. “Nice to meet you both,” I said.

“It was an absolute pleasure, Jasmin,” said Ana, smiling courteously.

“Bye,” I said, giving Jordan one last look.

“See you, Thomas,” said Ana with music in her voice.

Thomas jutted his chin at her again and put his arm around me as we walked off. I could not shake the feeling that he was acting differently in front of Ana, so I shook his arm off instead.

“What did you guys talk about?” said Thomas as we made it back to our sun loungers.

I looked across at Jordan and Ana again, and caught Jordan staring in my direction. Ana then stood, sauntered over to him and got on his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and stole his attention back with a deep kiss. My face burnt at the sight of them. The idea of going to Ana’s party put my stomach in knots and made my hands clammy. I could never compare to her. Their picture-perfect naked bodies looked stunning merged together like that. Plus it was an underground party. Neither Thomas nor I were ready for hardcore orgies.

“Babe?” said Thomas.

Something about finding Ana’s card hidden under Thomas’ towel felt off. And she wanted to lick him clean? What did that mean?

“Are you listening?” said Thomas.

“I heard you!” I said, scowling at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you met them?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “I was going to.”

I glared at him like an angry mother. It was his fault for being so thick-headed. I turned away and fell back onto my lounger, staring into the distance.

“I want to go to Ana’s party,” said Thomas.

I froze, disoriented by his statement. I turned towards him.

“No,” I said slowly. “We’re going to Passion Parade.”

“If we’re going ahead with this open thing, I want to go to J&A.”

“Well, go by yourself,” I said reflexively.

“Fine,” he shot back.

I paused, waiting for him to crack. He lit up a cigarette instead. Meanwhile, Jordan’s ocean-grey eyes remained burnt in my imagination, and just the thought of them made my skin glow warm again. Sure, he was incredibly hot. But there was something else about him I could not put my finger on. Something to do with those little boy vibes fused with a grown man’s presence. I had seen only a glimpse of his vulnerable side, but it was enough. His gaze penetrated me like nothing before. With others I felt confident in my natural boundaries. I had an inner space free of outer influence. Jordan stepped right through as though no door existed. Combined, Thomas’ nonchalance and Jordan’s fire eroded what little resistance I could put up. I huffed and gave in. Suit yourself. If Thomas wanted hardcore, he would get it.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s go to J&A.”