I had an interesting experience last night. I had just come to "Naken," one of the gay bars in Oslo, had ordered a beer and was standing at the bar.

As I got my beer, a young Pakistani guy came over to me. He nodded, hesitated for a moment, and then said: "My friend over there claims you are the guy in the My queer life-blog."

I looked at his friend, and saw that it was Trond (the friend of Per - mentioned in an earlier journal). Okay, there was no way of denying it, so I muttered an uncommitical "hmm," and he went on. "I'm Zain," he said. "The name means friend. I've been reading your blog, and I have an apartment that would be very interesting for an exhibitionist like you." Zain was beautiful, about 20 years old and with a friendly, but a bit nervous, smile. He had persuaded me already.

"I'd love to see it," I said.

The apartment was not far from the city center, on the eastern part of town. Zain told me that it was not really his, he was just borrowing it for a few weeks while its owners were back home in Pakistan. I wondered what was exhibitionistic about it, and couldn't wait to find out. On the twenty minutes walk there we were mostly talking about how wonderful nude beaches were, and I couldn't wait to see him in the nude.

Suddenly he said, "The flat is there," and at once I realized what he meant. We were standing on the street. The apartment was in the first floor, but due to the terrain we were looking straight into it. What I saw was a living room and a bedroom with no curtains. I thought of what some lights might do.

"Much traffic here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "There are a few cars," he said, "and because of the bus stop there the bus goes quite slowly by. And then there's the bar, of course." He pointed at the bus stop a few metres behind us and a bar a few metres ahead. I understood that there would be quite a few people passing by in the night, and especially when the bar would close. I looked at my watch - it was half past one.

"When does it close?" I asked, and he told me three.

"There are mostly people in the early twenties that go there."

We got into the apartment and went straight to the bedroom. The curtains were on the floor .

"I don't use those," he said.

He had turned on the lights, and I realized that we almost couldn't see anything outside the window. This probably meant that the view in was brilliant. He turned on the computer and logged in to the internet. I was sitting on the bed so I didn't really see what he was doing, but suddenly I recognized the anywebcam.com webpage. The webcam was pointing right at me.

"Do you mind if I turn on the webcam?" he asked.

My mind suggested I minded, but at the same time I understood even better what he meant by the words "very interesting for an exhibitionist like you," so I just said, "not at all," and took off my sweater.

Zain moved over to the bed. I had a look at the screen, where the window showing who was watching already had two entries, and I had a look at the window, through which I