Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
“Does it matter?” I didn’t know the answer myself. I seized him by the shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. The sur- prise was so great that it took a minute before he wrenched free and stepped back, gasping.
“Who are you? Are you police too?”
I pulled off my Santa hat and tore off the beard and mustache. Petri gaped at me in disbelief.
“You’re a woman?! You have to be kidding. Are you the . . . Did I meet you in the bar that time Milla was trying to get away from her friend?”
“We may have met.”
“But Kanerva Hakkarainen isn’t your real name. At least, I couldn’t find you on Facebook.”
“My name isn’t important.” I stepped closer to Petri again. He reached out his hand and tried in vain to feel my shape under the fat suit. We kissed again, and there was a moment when I thought I’d go all the way and take the man right there on the spot. Then I came to my senses and pulled away from his embrace.
“Present distribution ends here. Time to head back to the North Pole.”
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