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‘Gladly we rushed there, where the common calling rang. .’
    I was in raptures.
    ‘Our steps have the same echo!
    ‘All the way from Hanko to Petsamo!’
    Our old Second World War march was brusquely interrupted by someone who was apparently Jyrki’s boss. He scowled at us, said something tight-lipped about closing up the bar and washing out some blender or other. Jyrki smiled at me and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, What can I do? From the other end of the counter, his dexterous hands taking some machine apart, he turned to me and raised his eyebrows in a look that really got my juices flowing.
    I downed the last drops of tomato and aniseed.
    Shit.
    ‘And a very good, night to you, too,’ the puffed-up boss said, from behind the bar, looking meaningfully right at me.
    I slammed the glass on the counter and walked towards the door, doubtless staggering more than a bit.The sub-zero air outside was bracing and fresh, and the blue-black sky seemed oppressively beautiful.
    Someone was standing by the stairwell having a cigarette — a member of staff at the Rabid Reindeer, to judge by the shirt.
    ‘Sorry, do you know a barman called Jyrki?’ I asked in passing.
    The man looked at me suspiciously.
    All of its own accord, the story started bubbling convincingly from my mouth. Such excellent service, blah blah blah, then before we knew it the bar had closed, Jyrki had disappeared, and my boss Riitta had wanted to give him a special tip, a personal one, a big one. She’d told me to give it to him. In person.
     
Jyrki
    It was half past four in the morning. I’d just got back to my room when someone started hammering on the door.
    I furrowed my brow in confusion but went to open it.
    It was the girl from the bar. Her dark hair was a bit tousled. You could tell from her eyes that all those sambuca shots had finally hit her bloodstream.
    She wanted to talk. Because we’d only just got started.
    I asked her how she knew where I lived.
    She said she’d worked it out.
    I told her I was about to go to bed.
    She said she’d be more than happy to come to bed, too, and ducked under my arm and into the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed and started unbuttoning her blouse, although she still had her shoes on.
    She was endearingly tipsy.
    I let her undress to see just how serious she was.
    She was deadly serious.
    Without her clothes on, her body was worthy of more serious attention.
    I folded her clothes and laid them on a chair. I sat next to her on the bed and tried to focus on her hopeful, slightly blurry eyes, although my own kept scanning downwards almost by force. I gently pushed her shoulders and lowered her on to her back. Her lips were set in a pout, waiting expectantly to be kissed.
    I took the bedspread and pulled it over her.
    I told her it wasn’t really my style to screw anyone who wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what they were doing, but that if she felt the same way in the morning we could renegotiate.
    The next morning she felt exactly the same way. Still.
     
Heidi
    I left Jyrki’s room with only a few minutes to spare before our brunch appointment with the clients.
    Jyrki had told me he had the day off.
    At brunch I was bubbly and euphoric, and although I’d had a shower — my hair was still damp, a detail Riitta surely didn’t fail to pick up on — I was certain that I must have given off the pungent scent of multiple satiation.
    Erkki twice pointed out that a client was speaking to me. I giggled, flicked my hair, pouted and laughed it off.
    But beneath the surface I was seething. Christ alive. I’d wanted a one-night stand. I’d had a one-night stand.
    I’d had an exceptionally high-quality one-night stand.
    And not only that: I’d met a man with principles.
    What’s more, on the way I’d succeeded in painting myself into a corner.
    The rules of interaction between man and woman, between hunter and prey, are eternal. If the hunter is interested, the prey calls the shots.
    When I