Erika went to meet the women she had found on the internet. She went to a particular layby on the side of an empty country road, a long way from anywhere.
They met, twenty of them, driving up and parking and getting out of cars, and hugging and kissing and sometimes shaking hands. Some had been here before, and some were new, here their first time. It was a thing to do, something fun.
They met to have sex, and they all did it with all their clothes on.
It was Norway in winter, and already dark at three in the afternoon. And they were only meeting to use their hands on one another, as they’d all agreed. It was an orgy, but a safe, polite orgy. It was an orgy for people who wanted to be with a lot of new people, but not to take risks.
They all met, and touched and kissed and whispered, and had lots of sex by torch-light, but they only undressed the smallest amount possible. Erika undid their thick padded ski trousers, and pulled people’s hands down inside them. She leaned on a picnic table, kissing and smiling, and feeling their fingers slipping inside her thick trousers and woollen long-johns, and then inside her.
She had sex with a lot of people. They all had sex with a lot of people. She had fun, feeling so many new fingers, hearing so many new sighs of pleasure, tasting so many new mouths.
She had sex with a lot of people, and she didn’t take her woollen hat and scarf off the whole time, but she still felt slightly cold when she was done.
When they were, they all shook hands and put their gloves back on and got back in their cars, and drove away. They all went back to their lives, and agreed to meet up here again in a month, and do it all again.