Carrie Williams - The Exchange

I drank, and then I drank more. This, too, wasn’t like me. I’d always been very controlling – afraid of letting myself go, I suppose. But the champagne tasted clean and sharp and I liked the bubbly feeling it unleashed in my brain. I liked the way it loosened my tongue and the laughter that bubbled up inside of me, as if from nowhere. Joining in the conversation, I started to feel part of Rochelle’s gang, and that feeling surprised and pleased me.

More people joined us, and some of the originals faded away. There was a constant ebb and flow of beautiful people around our table, and as the night wore on and stars flickered into life above us, I lost track of who was who. All that mattered was Konrad, at the centre of it all, the brightest star of all. Whenever he glanced at me, I felt as if I’d been bathed in a golden radiance, blessed by warmth and light. If he spoke to me, I felt flattered, even honoured.

I’d no idea what time it was, but suddenly Konrad stood up, a fresh bottle of champagne in each hand, and announced that we were headed upstairs. His friend, the receptionist, had let him know that one of the guestrooms was free and that we could party there, if we wished.

Some of the group took the winding staircase, others – myself and Konrad included – took the tiny lift. As it clanked up through the building, I tried to contain myself. Konrad’s thigh was against mine, and in the small space I could smell him – coffee and spice melded in an intoxicating mix.

We stepped out of the lift and into a dark corridor. Konrad led the way as the others joined us from the staircase. Unlocking one of the doors, he gestured for us to go inside.

I literally gasped when I saw the room. It wasn’t that it was luxurious, but it was outré. The walls, ceiling and floor were all painted black, and the wide bed, simply dressed with white linen, was mounted on a low platform. The ceiling was hung with dozens of mirror-balls, while opposite the foot of the bed was a free-standing clawfoot bathtub.

The others – eight of them in total – were taking being here a lot more casually, so I guessed they might have come before. Or perhaps they were just too damn cool to express anything. Sitting down on the bed itself or on the edge of the platform, they held out their glasses as Konrad went around topping them up.

As he got to me, he looked into my eyes and the alcohol made me feel brazen enough to hold his gaze.

‘Enjoying yourself, Rachel?’ he said.

I nodded. ‘Very much so,’ I said, wishing I had the guts to kiss him, just like that.

A knock on the door drew him away from me. It was his friend the receptionist bringing him a CD system with some speakers. Thanking her, he turned back into the room and busied himself setting it up. Then he flipped through the folder of discs she had given him, selected one and slipped it into the machine.

‘ Colette Secret Island ,’ he said when he turned round, to no one in particular. ‘“No One Belongs Here More Than You”.’

Turning back to the room, he started dancing, languidly to start with, as befitted the slow build-up of the tune.

I watched, awed, as he moved, panther-like. Nobody else was even looking at him – they must have seen all this before, I reasoned.

Seeing me watching him, Konrad held out one hand. Like a rabbit caught in headlights, I let him take hold of me and pull me towards him. Trying not to let my drunkenness show, I started to move in time with the music, slowly and sensuously. Konrad’s eyes were on mine. I felt giddy, a little sick, but I didn’t want to break away and ruin this moment. Unlikely as it seemed, I thought that he may even fancy me too.

Then the song began to fade out, and Konrad took hold of my elbow and steered me to the side of the room, where he refilled my glass again. I was beginning to realise I’d be ill if I drank any more, but I accepted the glass and together we stood in the window, looking down into the street below.

‘I think you’ll be happy here, Rachel,’ he said, and I wondered what he knew of me – or what he thought he knew of me. It was true that I hadn’t been happy in London, of late. But was that so very obvious? Konrad and I had only known each other for a couple of hours, and to me he was a complete mystery. What, in turn, could he surmise of me? Did my discontent show through?

Before I had a chance to answer, two of the other models came into our orbit and began to chat to us. Then Konrad drifted away, gesturing to someone across the room. The next time I looked, through increasingly blurred vision, he was dancing again, shirtless this time. I nearly swooned to see him like that, and I felt a violent stab of lust in my belly and between my legs. I’d never known naked desire like this, and I was afraid of it. Especially when I stood no chance with someone like Konrad.

I swallowed back my bitterness with another gulp of champagne and looked back out of the window. People came over and I wound in and out of conversations haphazardly. I tried not to look for or at Konrad.

I had just started wobbling on my feet and decided I ought to head back to Rochelle’s apartment when I noticed that someone had filled the bathtub with water and bubbles. Some of the others had got naked and a couple were climbing in. As they sat down, their friends passed them their champagne flutes. The lights were dim; the music had become languorous once more. Across the room I noticed Konrad, still shirtless, watching me, a smile flitting about his lips. I looked away, this time incapable of returning his gaze.

It was all getting too much for me now – not just Konrad but the whole situation. But at the same time my professional instincts took over and I found myself seeking out my camera where I’d left it in a corner of the room. Pulling the strap over my head, I walked back towards the bath, holding my camera up to my face, toying with the lens. A couple of the others looked at me, but nobody seemed surprised or shocked, or showed any objections to being photographed. I clicked away rapidly, eager to catch the moment before it all evaporated into the night like smoke. I knew from experience never to hesitate.

I took hundreds of shots of the bodies cavorting in the bath, of others dancing, and of those just draped across the bed like giant cats, drinking and chatting. Then all of a sudden I was done. I just needed to get home and pass into oblivion for the night.

Grabbing my camera bag, I turned towards the door. Konrad stood in front of me, chest bare, top button of his fly undone, so that a small furring of hair was visible where his six-pack belly tapered away down to his crotch.

He struck a pose. I laughed, uncertainly, and began to snap away again.

Thank God for Kyle. He saved me from myself, albeit without really knowing it. After making that pass at me, he withdrew to his room, but sensing that I was reluctant to leave despite turning him down, he came back with a pillow and a blanket.

‘Why don’t you spare yourself a cab fare and sleep here?’ he said, gesturing towards one his capacious cream sofas. They looked comfier than your average single bed. Compared with the prospect of wandering the streets, they looked like heaven.

I nodded, taking the pillow and blanket and holding them to me, instantly feeling comforted. ‘I don’t suppose you have a spare …’

‘In the bathroom cabinet, under the sink,’ he said, smiling a little sadly. I wondered if he’d stocked up on an extra toothbrush that very morning, anticipating conquest. But I looked at him and there was something so little boy lost about him that I couldn’t believe he was certain of anything, not least seducing a woman.

‘Goodnight,’ he said softly, then he turned and padded off to his room. I placed the pillow at one end of the sofa and spread out the blanket. It was soft as cashmere, though I couldn’t find a label to confirm that it was. I bunched it up and held it to me, curling myself around its bulk foetus-style. I felt looked after, and I knew it would take only a few steps towards Kyle’s room and an apologetic smile for this feeling to expand and take me over. What was stopping me from doing that? Why did I only ever choose the things that hurt me?