“That’s not really true. I’m very fond of Martin and Henrik. And I always got on well
with my sister, for all that we seldom see each other. I detest Isabella and can’t
abide Alexander. And I never speak to my father. So that’s about fifty-fifty in the
family. Birger is...well, more of a pompous fathead than a bad person. But I see
what you mean. Look at it this way: if you’re a member of the Vanger family, you
learn early on to speak your mind. We do say what we think.”
“Oh yes, I’ve noticed that you all get straight to the point.” Blomkvist stretched out
his hand to touch her breast. “I wasn’t here fifteen minutes before you attacked
me.”
“To be honest, I’ve been wondering how you would be in bed ever since I first saw
you. And it felt right to try it out.”
For the first time in her life Salander felt a strong need to ask someone for advice.
The problem was that asking for advice meant that she would have to confide in
someone, which in turn would mean revealing her secrets. Who should she tell?
She was simply not very good at establishing contact with other people.
After going through her address book in her mind, she had, strictly speaking, ten
people who might be considered her circle of acquaintances.
She could talk to Plague, who was more or less a steady presence in her life. But he
was definitely not a friend, and he was the last person on earth who would be able
to help solve her problem. Not an option.
Salander’s sex life wasn’t quite as modest as she had led Advokat Bjurman to
believe. On the other hand, sex had always (or at least most often) occurred on her
conditions and at her initiative. She had had over fifty partners since the age of
fifteen. That translated into approximately five partners per year, which was OK for
a single girl who had come to regard sex as an enjoyable pastime. But she had had
most of these casual partners during a two-year period. Those were the tumultuous
years in her late teens when she should have come of age.
There was a time when Salander had stood at a crossroads and did not really have
control over her own life—when her future could have taken the form of another
series of casebook entries about drugs, alcohol, and custody in various institutions.
After she turned twenty and started working at Milton Security, she had calmed
down appreciably and—she thought—had got a grip on her life.