INTRODUCTION
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He had a billionaire friend. They grew up together. As children, as classmates and then they graduated from the same high school and then his friend founded companies, made a great fortune, a great success, while he devoted himself to writing and art.
But their friendship lasted.
And so, when he told him that he was looking for a "quite place to think," or a quiet place to work on a book, he immediately received an offer to use a loghouse by a lake. In Sweden. His friend, a billionaire, bought it as a vacation property, but he rarely stayed in it, because he bought many such places around the world for his pastime.
And that's why he was happy that for a few weeks, his good friend would live in this place for him, tidy it up, refresh it, clean it, and do whatever was needed there himself. Simply business, a win-win method. Satisfaction on all sides.
So he warmly offered him a stay in his romantic loghouse by a small lake, in the middle of the remote Swedish wilderness.
He gladly accepted, but he had one small problem. He wanted to hire an assistant who would check his texts, cook, clean, wash, and take care of all the mundane things so that he could concentrate only on his work.
His rich friend solved the problem simply. He employed over thirty thousand people in his companies and so he released one capable assistant who met the given conditions.
One of the main ones was that she should be engaged. Preferably married. Although the suitable candidate was not yet married, she said that she was in a serious relationship.
He looked at her photo with interest. She was 25 and looked nice.
It's good to spend 21 days of your life with someone who isn't a snotty-nosed scoundrel, he thought, and warmly accepted this generous offer.
He didn't have to pay for her services. His billionaire friend had released her from her duties at one of his many companies without batting an eye, so that she could, in all honesty, serve three weeks for extra pay and bonuses, which for the billionaire meant such a paltry expense that he wouldn't even bother to personally sign a payment order.
They had fun talking about the conditions that awaited him there. Their debate was matter-of-fact and warm:
"There's no running water there. Don't wait for a water supply in the wilderness. You'll have to haul water from the lake to the boiler to take a bath. That will heat it up. A bit spartan conditions, but they might encourage some of your inspiration. Don't worry. The lake is clean. The boiler has filters. And you'll have bottled drinking water. Hectoliters in plastic."
"Ok. You know I'm... how to say it? Modest?"
He ignored his remark, completely, and continued: "The electricity is solar, but sometimes the Swedish sun doesn't give it, so it switches to a generator. Our guy will set it up for you and you won't have to worry about it until the end of your stay."
"The pilot?"
"No. The helicopter that brings you will have a pilot from the company, but my guy who winterizing the loghouse will fly with you, show you everything, unload your luggage and then it's up to you, right?"
"Sure, I understand," he agreed.
"Is there anything else you need to know?"
"When are we flying?"
"As soon as possible!"
They both laughed the friendly, raucous laughter that connects souls, already inextricably linked by long-ago, shared experiences.
Then it was easy. Three days after this conversation, he met his assistant at the airport to fly to Sweden and then by helicopter directly into the bosom of nature, to a loghouse, by a clean, untouched, romantic lake.
Arrival and their first night
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The journey dragged on, there were a few delays in the plane transfers and the helicopter flight to the loghouse was also delayed due to the worsening weather. That day was not kind.
They arrived at dusk and checked in in the dark. The helicopter pilot was nervous and created an atmosphere of hurry and hostility, because he wanted to get back as quickly as possible.
The person who was supposed to get the loghouse up and running for the two of them was in a hurry, and did everything in a hurry, but still smiled and made jokes. He was a happy person and contrasted sharply with the nervous helicopter pilot, who walked nervously in front of the cabin and lit one cigarette after another.
Everything happened in a rush and the helicopter took off.
He and she were left alone in the middle of Swedish nature, in a loghouse, by a romantically clean, clear lake, and at that moment they had no idea how exciting 21 days lay ahead of them.
What to do in a new environment that you are just getting to know, but the coming night doesn't give you much time to explore?
They figured it out quickly. He looked around the cabin and decided that he would have a study upstairs, where he would sleep, and she would have to reign and sleep downstairs.
They were both quite tired on the way. They decided to leave the big unpacking and settling in for tomorrow. He emphasized to her, rather coldly, that it would be her business. He wanted to focus on work from the first day.
She took his factual remarks calmly. She knew why she was here.
For her, it wasn't supposed to be a vacation, but work, and he was supposed to work here first and foremost.
She probably wouldn't have much fun here, but she took it as an interesting experience and went with it.
They found some pajamas in their luggage, did their evening hygiene, and he went upstairs.
"Maybe things won't be so bad with him here," she thought.
The beginnings of all stays, when people are just getting to know each other and getting to know each other, are awkward and cold. This cheered her up a little.
She settled down on the couch she was supposed to sleep on every night. It looked like a tasteless mixture of luxury and an attempt to look a little old-fashioned. It was clean, the scuffs on it were artificial, but it creaked.
Whenever she wanted to roll over or sit down on it, a faint or louder creaking sound was heard.
Over time, she got used to it, and during her stay, this sound even became a welcome piece of paradise music for her. But she didn't know that when she lay down on him, tired, with mixed feelings that on the one hand called for an exciting Swedish adventure, on the other hand dampened all her exaggerated expectations. She was here for work, after all.
He fell asleep upstairs, on the floor, without any problems. He was already working on his book in his head. Basically, he was looking forward to starting writing the next day.
What to do in a new environment that you are just getting to know, but the coming night doesn't give you much time to explore?
They figured it out quickly. He looked around the loghouse and decided that he would have a study upstairs, where he would sleep, and she would have to reign supreme and sleep downstairs.
They were both quite tired after the way. They decided to leave the big unpacking and settling in for tomorrow. He emphasized to her, rather coldly, that it would be her business. He wanted to concentrate on work from day one.
She took his matter-of-fact remarks calmly. She knew why she was here.
For her, it wasn't supposed to be a vacation, but work, and he was supposed to work here first and foremost.
She probably wouldn't have much fun here, but she took it as an interesting experience.
They found some pajamas in their luggage, did their evening hygiene, and he went upstairs.
"Maybe things won't be so bad with him here," she thought.
The beginnings of all stays, when people are just getting to know each other, are awkward and cold. It cheered her up a little.
She settled down on the couch she was supposed to sleep on every night. It looked like a tasteless mixture of luxury and an attempt to look a little old-fashioned. It was clean, the scuffs on it were artificial, but it creaked.
Whenever she wanted to roll over or sit down on it, a faint or louder creak could be heard.
Over time, she got used to it, and during the stay, this sound even became a welcome piece of paradise music for her. But she didn't know that when she lay down on it, tired, with mixed feelings that on the one hand called for an exciting Swedish adventure, on the other hand dampened all her exaggerated expectations. She was here for work, after all.
He fell asleep upstairs, on the floor, without any problems. He was already working on his book in his head. He was basically looking forward to starting writing the next day.
First day and second night
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He got up early in the morning, as he was used to. He went down the wooden steps of the loghouse and saw her still sleeping on the couch. He started coughing lightly, but that didn't wake her up. He didn't know what to do. He was annoyed that breakfast wouldn't be ready. He realized that he would have to set rules, a schedule, and determine what would happen and how. He didn't want to be unnecessarily hard on her, because he was going to spend three weeks with her, in close proximity, and if he made her angry right from the start, it wouldn't do her any good. He managed his morning hygiene and hoped that the beautiful sleeper would wake up. That didn't happen. He returned from the bathroom, half-naked, with a towel over his shoulder and a toothbrush and toothpaste tucked into a small plastic cup in his hand.
And that's exactly how she saw him when she opened her sleepy eyes. She was surprised at how strong he was, how well-built his body was. It was really all muscle, the body of a guy from a magazine. He could have been shooting an advertisement for men's underwear without hesitation.
"I'm going to work out. I try to work out every morning, every day. For now, prepare breakfast," he said to her, coldly went upstairs, got dressed, and then walked out of the loghouse without giving her a single glance.
"Killjoy!" she said to herself, relieved because she wanted to pull the covers over her head and just roll around for at least half an hour, maybe an hour, dozing off and enjoying the sweet nothingness.
She stretched her face, stuck out her tongue as a rebel gest, towards the door of the loghouse through which he had left, and then she had no choice but to get up and, after completing her hygiene, go prepare breakfast. At least she combed her hair, but should she wear makeup for him? She waved her hand at that. Why? They are here for work, not beauty.
Finally, her routine prevailed over thoughts of vanity and at least she smeared her hands with the German Kamill cream, which she liked so much because it made her nails shiny and clear, and wiped her face with nourishing goat milk.
They ate breakfast together. Almost in silence. She glanced at him, but he stared at his plate. She made them toast and eggs for breakfast. He ate them without saying anything. Were they good? Did he like them? She didn't know.
After breakfast he went upstairs. To work on his book.
She began to unpack and settle in. She heated up lunch from cans, dinner too, and spread bread and pâté on his toast for a snack. He said nothing. He worked upstairs and only came down for meals when she called him. He scolded her for not wanting to be disturbed unnecessarily unless necessary, and he set the exact times they would eat. He wanted her to write it down on a piece of paper, which he then stuck on the refrigerator. He said it was for order. She found it humiliating, but what could she do? Did he think she couldn't remember when to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Was that why he had such a low opinion of her? She didn't want to think about it. When she wasn't preparing food, which only took a moment, she was exploring the loghouse and walking around it. She was getting to know her surroundings. He, upstairs, was working on his book.
And so, separated, they spent the entire first day.
The night was similar to the first. She slept on the creaky couch, he on the comfortable, double bed, where there was more than enough space.
Second day and third night
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They had just settled in, everything was new to them, but he pulled the boat out of the basement of the loghouse and enthusiastically suggested that they take a ride on the lake. Supposedly, to get to know the surrounding environment, nature, and to better tune in to their stay. To the energies of the beautiful Swedish country, as he emphasized.
She wasn't enthusiastic. She didn't know much about what to expect, but she reluctantly agreed. What else could she do? She was afraid that their boating together on the lake would be awkward and embarrassing, but the opposite was true.
He came to life like a little boy and really enjoyed it. He rowed with enthusiasm, they sailed close to the shore, into all the coves of the lake and although they didn't say much, both of their hearts beat to the same rhythm of adventure. She was relaxed and radiant. He felt like the captain of a ship carrying a precious treasure.
They were like children.
Everthing was charming and amazing and then.. She was really disappointed when they returned to the loghouse. The playful boy had become a withdrawn, workaholic writer who only cared about his work and treated it like a cashier in a supermarket.
Cold, detached. It hit her down than she wanted to admit. She wanted to cry. Sometimes she had those feelings. She had a bit of a childhood problem, because she grew up with only her mother, who changed partners. She met her real father for the first time when she was eighteen. Although she felt mentally strong enough as a lioness, she took it hard and shed many tears.
She experienced feelings of being unwanted then. And she felt the same feelings now.
"Am I projecting my father into him?" she wondered, because he was a similar age. He could easily have been her father. The feeling didn't make her feel any better. On the contrary. It started to tighten her heart, she got a little scared and started to feel uncomfortable.
The day came to an end. Dinner was over and then he wanted her to make a pot of coffee to take to the fireplace. He said they could chat.
Her heart pounded at his words. The feeling of constriction increased even more. She was afraid of embarrassment. She remembered her father again. She didn't know much about the feelings of an obedient daughter, because she had spent her childhood in rebellion and resistance, but here she couldn't afford such behavior.
She was afraid of that evening, and the thought of having to go through this embarrassment every evening horrified her even more.
In the end, the evening exceeded her expectations.
Although they didn't say much, more like phrases, everything was natural, relaxed and in a way friendly.
He showed himself from a slightly different side. More relaxed, warmer, more loving.
It was nice that he didn't drag out their conversation unnecessarily. It lasted about an hour, and when she started to feel tired, which he sensed like a gentleman, he apologized that he was tired himself and went upstairs.
She prepared the couch they had been talking on for sleeping and lay down on it with a nice feeling of a pleasant evening. Sometimes the conversation between them faltered, because neither she nor he was sure whether to deepen the questions on certain topics. For example, their relationships.
And so they played a casual verbal ping-pong and at least there were plenty of interesting questions left for other evenings. She felt good about it and was glad for it. There were still so many of those evenings ahead of them.
She fell asleep contentedly with a smile on her face. He kept the light on for a long time, but there was silence from above. She knew he was working on the computer with headphones on. He must have had them on and was looking at the computer.
What was he doing? Working, writing, or playing games, watching a movie, a TV series, or maybe porn, and at the same time playing with his... She smiled at the thought, and then her mind drifted off to sleep, because she was really tired. Her last thought was how excruciating it was for a woman and a man to spend three weeks without making love. Her hand intuitively moved to her inner thigh, near her crotch, but before anything interesting could happen, overcome by fatigue and the change in climate and environment, she fell asleep. The night was quiet, peaceful, and chilly. The cabin was nicely heated, so they both slept extremely well.
Third day and fourth night
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to be continued soon...
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