Page 115 of My Boss

“We did a decent warm-up; it should be better,” he declares.

Oh yes, the warm-up was really intense. In addition to the exhausting but divine sex in his house, I went through a rather strenuous workout in front of the ski rental shop. Jan would be suited for the army like no one else. A few squats and jumps he turned into a grueling drill.

“I need a moment to get into the swing of things. To get in touch with the mountain, the wind, the sun… You know, to get this skifeeling.”

He frowns.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He puts his goggles on his nose. “I’ll see you at the bottom then.” He turns to face the slope.

What, he’s not going to leave me here alone, is he? We were supposed to go down together!

“But…” I can’t finish because Jan is already gliding down.

Holy crap, but he does it so smoothly. He gives the impression that he was born with skis on his feet. I would never have suspected him of such flexibility and physical prowess, but I might have expected it from how good he is in bed.

I watch him slalom from edge to edge of the slope, admire his shapely ass in a tight suit, and wonder at the same time how I can get down here as fast as possible and without damage to my health.

Schussing down is absolutely out of the question. I’m not stupid. Brave as can be, but I think I’m in way over my head. This mountain is far too steep, and the spruce trees growing on the sides of the slope pose too much of a risk…

I see that Jan is stopping.

“Why aren’t you coming down?!” he calls out in my direction.

Everyone who arrived here with us by lift is already schussing, and I’m standing as if I’ve planted roots in the ground.

There is only one option left: I’m going to take off my skis and walk down the forest to the bottom in these ridiculous boots.

“I have a cramp in my calf. Keep going alone,” I reply, and my voice echoes through the spruce trees.

I bend down, start wrestling with the ski binding clasp. Shit, how does it unfasten? I feel that my head is spinning, as if theground under the skis is shifting like a running treadmill… I lift my head and hold my breath. Oh God, I’m slipping—backwards!

A cry escapes my throat. With every second I speed up, crossing my legs to brake, but they spread apart, each going in its own direction. I’m about to do a fucking split! I try to lean forward, but some force, the existence of which the most eminent physicists have not heard, pulls me back and makes me rush faster and faster. I drive my poles into the snow. The friction is too weak. I can’t stop!

My heart is beating like crazy, I have no idea what to do. Why don’t I just drive down like this until the very end? How far down is it? Where is Jan?

I glance over my shoulder and I get weak. And that’s because instead of going straight, I’m going right into the woods!

“Turn!” A cry reaches me.

Great advice. Only, how the fuck do I do it?

I tilt and sway, but I’m unable to change course or even fall over.

Oh, Holy Mother of God, I’m about to smash into a tree.

“Help, Jan!” I’m yelling at the top of my voice.

I’m zipping around like the Alpine version of Roadrunner. This is it, goodbye beautiful world.

I squeeze my eyes, tense up all over, wait for a strong thud, but then I feel a powerful blow from the side. Jan knocks me into the snow.

Saved! And for the second time. I definitely need to limit strolling on slippery surfaces. Or maybe I should make it a habit to walk in crampons during winter?

*

Jan is sulking. He’s pissed at me—no joke. Because I lied to him. And it was no use apologizing and explaining that I did it to impress him (because I care about his opinion) and because Iwanted to get out of the house with him (because spending time actively benefits interpersonal relationships).

“I do not tolerate lying,” he announces coldly as we leave the ski rental shop.

---