-12

i remember vika
along with he who can’t be named (joel) i was attending a biphop electronica club. sprawl was run by a mutual acquaintance, douglas – or si-cut.db as he is known in music circles. we had been several times before. entertained by artists who would squeeze music from laptops.
the location for this particular night was a wine bar in smithfields. the crowd there was an odd mix of the local office workers there for an after work drink, the local trendies getting ready for a night out and those who were there to listen to the music.
it was busy.
we found a spot by the window and began to listen to the music.
to the left of us there was a large leather couch. a couple were on it. he was in his neat trousers shirt and tie, she in a blouse and skirt. they were drinking wine. it soon became obvious that they were not there for the music, or the wine. they were there because they were having an illicit affair. their hands all over each other. the wine forgotten they just spent the night in each other’s embrace in a powerful liplock that they broke occasionally in order to get a breath of fresh air. as the night progressed more and more of her legs were exposed as the skirt was hitched higher and higher. no one seemed to mind the almost x-rated action that was going on. personally i was impressed with their single-mindedness and total concentration on each other. when they left there was a big wet patch on the couch due to sweaty passion.
in-between watching them and listening to the music he who can’t be named (joel) and i more than likely had another part of an ongoing discussion as to whether laptoppers were musicians or not. joel would say yes. i would say no, as i think of them more as composers (however what i know about music, composing and performing could be written on the head of a pin and still leave room for the works of beethoven and bjork).
the evening’s entertainment was coming to a close. the last performer had done his bit. just the dj left. we were getting ready to go.
i didn’t notice her until she was standing directly in front of me, but apparently she had made a beeline to me from the other side of the club.
her: who are you?
me; i am no one. why?
her: who are you?
me: pat. who are you?
her: vika.
to say she was petite would be an understatement. even under the very large jumper she was wearing you could see she was tiny. she had short blonde hair, very pale skin. she looked elfin and as if she would break if you sneezed on her.
we chatted some more. i was trying to find out who she thought i was. her english was not the best. we said goodnight to each other and she left. i turned to joel and shrugged and said something about ‘i have no idea what that was about.’
i got my bag to go. joel told me to wait there.
i waited.
i waited.
and i waited some more.
either he was having the longest piss in the world or he had bumped into one of his, many, creative friends who frequented these sorts of things.
i waited.
then he turned up. he was out of breath.
he gave me a tube ticket with a phone number on it. told me not to lose it. i looked at him quizzically, it’s her number you idiot. he told me he had to run to catch her before she got to the tube station.
i couldn’t phone her for a couple of weeks as she was off on holiday.
we met a couple of times. nothing happened, shame as she was very cute.
it was just very odd.