They passed three closed stores on the way. 'Fuck it Sam, we're never gonna make it.' 'Chill down' - said Oliver. 'No need to worry all the time, there must be a place somewhere here in this neighborhood.' They were looking for gin, Adam specifically told them, that bringing a bottle is the prerequisite to the party. They managed to find one at last in the fourth store - nice old Chinese guy, no speaky english.
Straight to the apartment, buzzer, elevator, entrance door - you can hear it from there. Three knocks on the bauhausian entrance door and it magically opens - by a tall thin blonde in a perfect cocktail dress, who immediately falls into the hands of the freshly arrived. Sam blows the smoke out on the nose and smiles to Oliver, who cought the blonde. 'We're here, dude' - he said.
The apartment was marvelous. Adam, the host always had these lavish parties when his parents were out of town - and they were out of town a lot - sailing at lake Como or Bali - meanwhile the flat on Rakoczi turned into a heaven of desires and opportunities. The kitchen, as the 'center of social life' immediately greeted the new arrivals. Next to the impressive bar at the middle, there was a lightwell transformed to an inner smoking terrace and a reading nook, just to make it more perfect.
A guest bedroom on the left and the living room could be entered from here - not to mention the main bedroom, which could only be reached by a hidden tapestry door. The layout of the apartment was simple but it was somehow mysterious and exciting in the same time.
The two bedrooms had walk-in bathrooms and the living room had a brilliant terrace overlooking Rakoczi street. The interior reflected the taste of Adam's father, it had a great midcentury modern feeling on its contemporary, industrial mode. It was a feast to the eye.
The boys were mesmerized immediately by the mood oozing from the music in the living room - Brubeck perhaps. The host was making cocktails in the kitchen, while the others told each other wonderful explanations of the world - as any young people would do - in small groups on the guest room bed or in front of the wooden wall covering in the living room.
One's hands tended to slide to others thighs while other's hands tended to slide to one's shoulders. The drinks faded away like irreplaceable moments into nothingness, the melody of music, the textures of wooden surfaces and the contours of deep green walls slowly blurred out. All unsent messages hold endless desire.
