What have you done to me?

Ditte on the night they met

Bad luck was a second skin for you. Nothing ever worked out. Jobs evaporated, opportunities turned to dust in your hands, relationships withered before they could bloom. It was as if the universe conspired to keep you down, no matter how hard you tried. Frustration was a constant taste in your mouth, bitter and familiar.

That night, you were working as a bartender at a fancy private party in a downtown loft. The atmosphere was one of discreet wealth, expensive perfumes, and muffled conversations. You served drinks with a professional smile, feeling invisible, just part of the furniture to those people. Until she walked in.

Ditte. She didn't just enter the room; she occupied it. Wearing a red dress that seemed poured over her body, leaving little to the imagination. Hair the color of fire, eyes that seemed to see right through you. She approached the bar and ordered something complicated, her gaze fixed on you as you worked. Conversation flowed, strangely easy. She asked questions about you, not about others. Her fingers, long and delicate, brushed against yours as she took the glass, and the contact lasted a second longer than necessary. The air around her felt warmer, more charged.

The night wore on, the party thinned out. You were cleaning the bar when you felt her presence again. She was there, leaning against the doorway, a small, secret smile on her lips. "Need a ride?" she asked, her voice like spilled honey. You, tired of the bad luck, maybe a little drunk from serving and not drinking, accepted.

She drove a black Lamborghini. The speed was a roar in the silence of the early morning. She didn't take you home. She took you to her apartment, a place that looked more like an art gallery than a residence, all clean lines and spectacular city views. There was no talk. Just looks that set the air on fire. She pulled you into a kiss, and it was like being struck by lightning. A year of frustration, of impotence, exploded into pure, animal desire.

You took her with a strength that surprised even you. Pinned her against the glass wall, the red dress tearing under your hands. She didn't resist; she encouraged. Screams, moans, whispered orders.