18 comments/  30283 views/  45 favorites

Living with Katrina Ch. 01

By: LaRascasse



My second attempt at Romance. Let me know how it went, with your valuable comments and votes. Private feedback is also welcome.

Thanks to estragon for copy editing and SamanthaYvonne for plot edits.

"Hey, listen Jake. I'm in a bit of trouble right now. It was a stupid post-breakup stunt gone wrong and now they have me in the lock-up. Please come get me from the station. I'll owe you one."

Jake Gallagher groaned as the message played her liquor-slurred voice from his answering machine. She already "owed" him about a million with the various problems he had gotten her out of.

Stoned in Gramercy Park. Check

Lost in Hoboken with no money. Check

Car trouble in Staten Island. Check

Arrested for indecent exposure. Double Check. No wait. Triple Check.

One more. Nothing new. It was part of the whole experience of living with Katrina. He sighed reluctantly and put on his jacket. After a hard day of work, he had been looking forward to an evening of classical music and reading.

Then again, he was too used to it to care any longer. He had resigned himself to his fate as her reluctant guardian angel.

His Camaro revved up to the precinct parking area a few minutes later. He went inside and walked up to the desk. An old officer sat behind it, reading a magazine. He looked up at him over his horned-rimmed glasses.

"You again?"

"Yes. I'm back for the usual," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"One crazy roommate, that way," the officer said, pointing in the direction of the holding cells.

Jake walked past a few cells until he saw Kat slumped against the wall. Her tears had badly messed up her mascara. The state of her hair and clothes could only mean drunk and disorderly.

"Kat?"

Her eyes snapped open. She rushed to the bars and held his shirt.

"Oh thank God you're here. Thank God!"

He looked at her, reproachfully, like a parent surveying a guilty child.

"What happened this time?"

"Oh nothing," she slurred, "Paolo dumped me, like the bastard he is and I might have had a few daiquiris too many. I was just on my way back when some asshole arrested me."

Her breath reeked of the "few" drinks too many.

She went on in her indignant tone, "Like they don't have any actual crime to fight, locking up innocent people."

"You heard me," she said loudly, in the direction of a nearby officer, while Jake tried to restrain her. "You guys can't fight real crime so you go around catching people who have had a bit too much to drink. Fucking cowards."

Not wanting to antagonize anyone at the station, Jake hastily left her to tend to the formalities of her release. Katrina had to expend some effort to hold on to the bars and keep herself from falling.

The "coward" came soon enough and let her out. She fell right into Jake's arms, her drunken stupor not having completely passed.

The officer offered to help carry her, but Jake politely waved him off. He slung her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her back to steady her. They hobbled along, across the street to his car, and he sat her on the front seat. Her head flopped to the side. He got in and put her seatbelt on.

Kat was steady enough to face him now.

"God I'm so sorry at messing up your evening. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"It's all right," he said, trying to comfort her.

"No it isn't. I fucked up. Gosh, it's that bloody Paolo's fault. I am so done with Italian guys."

"Good thinking," he affirmed, thinking back to the last time she was "done" with Italian guys. Somehow they always ended up in her pants.

He helped her up to their shared flat and then to her room. She fell on her bed. He knelt at the foot of her bed and gently removed her shoes and socks. He was about to leave when he heard a soft whimpering.

"Lie down beside me. Please?"

Jake saw her large, entreating eyes pleading with him. He had a pathological weakness for that look and could not bring himself to refuse her. She draped her arm over his neck as he lay down by her side.

"What is wrong with me? Why does this keep happening?"

He brushed her honey blonde hair back.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Paolo is a cunt."

"Really? What does it say about me then to fall in love with a cunt?" she asked softly.

Jake paused to consider his reply. She raised her head, her brow furrowed.

"Answer me Jake. What does it fucking say about me?" she said, her tone rising.

He got off the bed and took a step back. He had seen that look before and had a fair idea what was coming next.

"I said fucking answer me," she said, a livid expression on her face.

"Well," he began warily, "You fell for the wrong person. It was an honest mistake. It happens to all of us."

"It seems to happen to me more than others," she said, getting off the bed.

"It's not your fault."

"Don't be condescending to me, you bloody prick! You think that your life is perfect, don't you. You think I fucking deserved to be dumped. You son of a-"

Jake's cheek burnt as her palm made a powerful connection with it. He staggered and took a step back, only to feel her fist against his lips. He fell flat on the floor, tasting his own blood. Kat stood against the wall, panting.

A few long moments later, the expression of anger on her face was replaced with one of horror as she realized what she had just done.

"Oh my God, Jake!"

"I'm okay," he said, trying to sit.

"No you're not. Look at you. You're bleeding!" she said, scurrying to his side.

"It's fine. I'll go wash it off."

He started towards the bathroom, but she cut him off.

"You stay right there. I'll get some wet towels and ice."

He took the invitation and fell on the couch. His lips were split and blood seeped out of the corner down his chin. She hurried to his side, armed with an ice pack and towel.

"Thank you," he said, gingerly taking the ice from her.

"No," she said, tears welling in her beautiful brown eyes. "Thank you for bailing me out. Thank you for being there for me whenever I need it. Thank you for just being... you."

He smiled as best he could with his bloody lips.

"It's what I do best."

She held him close. She had so much to be thankful for. He had been the victim of many of her outbursts and they had all left him in pain.

Katrina was bipolar. The disorder caused her to have extreme mood swings. Some of them were manic and caused her to lash out. It was invariably Jake who was in the way.

But he took it like a soldier.

She held him to her heart and they stayed like that. He quietly thought about them and their relationship. There wasn't a word in the dictionary to describe it.

Six years ago, he had put up an advertisement for a roommate. The rents in New York had forced him out of his hermetic lifestyle. His flat was big enough for two people, so it wouldn't really be a problem.

If for some reason the CIA decided to assassinate Jake, it would be their easiest job to date. For Jake is a man of habit. He wakes up at seven on the dot. His breakfast is dispensed with by seven thirty following his bathroom rituals. He boards the subway from the station down the street at eight, always on the same car, and reaches his accounting firm ten minutes before nine sharp.

Five days a week he followed the boring schedule to and from work. His job as senior accountant was monotonous, but it paid his rent and utilities. Right up until the landlord felt compelled to double the rent.

To a man as laid back as Jake, the thought of moving was too much trouble. Instead he decided to get a roommate to pay half the rent. He never had a girl over to his apartment in his twenty-seven years and did not indulge in self-gratification on lonely evenings, so an infringement on his privacy would not hurt much.

His only vice was classical music and his only companion his books. Jake Gallagher led the most drab life in the whole of Manhattan Island.

That changed when Katrina Bauer answered his ad.

He opened the door to the new applicant. She was dressed in a tight, figure-hugging dress with a loose overcoat. Her skirt was plaid and black. It was her face though, that was the most alluring. She had beautifully shaped eyes and a sharp gaze. Her skin was a light shade of pink and her face was genuinely pleasant. Her straight hair came down to her chin level and she'd placed a grey beret jauntily atop it.

This was sadly the first female company he had had in ages.

The discussions regarding rent and the split-up of their other bills went smoothly. She seemed congenial enough and wanted to be a good roommate. Within half an hour, she had her own key to the apartment.

Jake had a roommate.

But there was so much more to her than that.

Katrina was as tempestuous as her hurricane namesake. She lived a truly Epicurean life, going from one bohemian (mis)adventure to the next. She was an artist, who drew "whatever her muse painted in her mind". Her goal was to give the world a feel for "what they saw and yet failed to see".

One of her allotted two rooms immediately became her studio. It was her thinking space, her sanctuary, where her creativity put vivid colour on the canvas.

He never understood her art. To him it was a montage of bizarre colours and shapes, but to her it was a message, a calling. Abstract art took up most of her canvases, but she did make the occasional portrait for the paying customer as well.

Her studio was a perpetual mess of canvas and art supplies. There was some interest in her work within certain highbrow artsy circles, and she was eagerly waiting for her breakthrough.

Aside from her art, she shared his love for classical music and literature. They bonded over several cups of coffee and late nights chatting. One night, she brushed up against his side suggestively, hinting at her desire to consummate something other than their friendship.

Boring Jake failed to pick up on her obvious hints, so she stepped it up by pressing her angelic lips to his and giving him the first real kiss of his life. His previous attempt at kissing (his senior prom) was not nearly as torrid.

One of her hands was about to slip into the waistband of his shorts, when his senses cockblocked him. He grabbed her hand and pulled it out, giving a long discourse on how having sex could make things incredibly awkward between them and they should remain roommates and friends.

She was asleep by the time his droning lecture ended.

The others she hit on were more receptive. Katrina was a sapiosexual, attracted to intelligence. Her first attraction after coming to New York was an amateur artist, Spiro, who painted natural spaces. She actually got aroused hearing him talk about the beauty of Mother Nature and how he sought to capture that with his brush.

He took her to his studio to see his work and she took the opportunity to see his nakedness as well. His tongue in her mouth took her breath away. She held his hair and pushed his face down to her breasts.

He eagerly took her whole nipple in his mouth and began gently nibbling at it. His other hand found her other luscious breast and began kneading it. She gasped as the dual sensations travelled from her mammaries to every other nerve ending in her body.

Pushing his head further down, she placed his marauding lips on her taut stomach. His tongue slurped around it and covered it with a thin layer of wetness. Inches below, she was already drenched.

She held his hair and forced his head between her inviting legs. She clenched her thighs around it and pushed his tongue into her wet orifice. He feasted on her pussy intently, lapping at her inflamed lower lips.

"Oh that's it right there! Keep doing that," she moaned.

Spiro's Greek tongue tickled and teased her engorged clit. She shook from side to side, but he followed it expertly, not letting his tongue leave her. The familiar tingling sensation of orgasm stirred in the pit of her stomach. It grew and expanded, filling her with a pleasurable wash of endorphins.

Currents of pleasure radiated from her drenched vulva, exciting every hypersensitive nerve cell it passed through. She could feel her climax hurtling closer and pulled him off her slick opening forcefully.

"Not with your tongue," she panted, ushering towards his proud erection, pulsing just beyond her reach.

Nodding in agreement, he crawled up her body until his tool was lined up against her entrance. It was so wet that further lubrication was not needed. He held her gaze while sinking all his throbbing length inside her.

Katrina gasped as she felt his girth filling her up, stretching out her damp walls. She closed her eyes and clenched around his flesh, eliciting a low groan of pleasure from him. He lay on top of her, his hardon deeply embedded inside her.

Spiro pulled out slowly, letting his veins drag against her flesh until only the head remained inside her. He slammed back into her after a moment's pause, burying his erection against her cervix. The impact of the intrusion caused her to spasm. She wrapped her arms around his back, digging her nails in.

"Oh GOD!!"

Stroke followed stroke with increasing intensity. She clenched her tight walls even harder around him. Their pleasure amplified with the rise of their mutual arousal.

He felt his orgasm flow over at the same time as she gushed all over him. Bursts of semen ejected deep inside her, mingling with her own sexual fluids. She felt satisfied, content and ready to take it to the next level.

Sadly the next level never came. Spiro Kostouros went back to his native Thessalonika unannounced. Life in the Big Apple was too rich for his blood.

His sudden departure left a distraught Katrina in its wake. She had conjured up elaborate fantasies about their relationship and future together. All for nothing.

Jake was on the subway back home when he got the fateful call. The signal reception was good enough for him to discern the words "help", "Greenpoint" and "wasted".

Not wanting to lose a perfectly good roommate, he rushed towards the Greenpoint neighbourhood in North Brooklyn. Frantically searching the streets, all he found was inebriated hippies and menacing street gang members.

His docile existence had left him utterly unprepared for the mean streets.

Night was falling as he turned his search towards the East Riverfront. He parked along a wharf and went to search for her on the pier. He was about to give up when he spotted her, sitting against a wooden column, a bottle in her hand.

Soon he would get used to that look - messed makeup, strewn hair and copious sobbing. It was part of her cycle. She would fall madly in love with some flamboyant guy who matched her criteria for highbrow intelligence. They would have a passionate fling (she usually was under the delusion it was more than a fling) and then when the inevitable end came, it hit her hard.

Her bipolar condition also gave her a propensity for acute depression. This made her extremely prone to going on benders. And Jake bailed her out of them. Every time. Any other roommate would have been fed up with her susceptibility to trouble, but not him.

For a reason that should have been best known to him, his conscience had appointed him her guardian angel. He needed to be for her sake.

All these thoughts passed through his head as he rested his face on her chest. They were very close, closer than best friends, closer than siblings. There was nothing they could not tell each other.

The irony of it was that they had not had any intimate contact. Not for lack of trying on her part. Katrina did have a few dry spells and tried tempting Jake, but he averted her amorous advances like an old-time priest.

In fact, Kat was under the impression that he swung the other way. All the way, until she found a stack of magazines buried in his closet. They were pretty tame by her promiscuous standards, but erotic enough to dispel her false notion.

And so the odd couple stuck together, through thick and thin.

Jake detached his face from her bosom, cursing the spot of his dried blood on her dress. She had gone to sleep on the couch, her arms still wrapped around his shoulder. Carefully sliding his head from her embrace, he carried her to bed.

He laid her down. His fingers wiped away a few residual tears. He tucked her in and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

On his way to his room, he stopped in front of a mirror. For a thirty-three year old, he was in good shape. The few grey hairs could be attributed to the worrisome last six years he had lived with Katrina. He was six feet even and had an expressive face, which could show every emotion.

Turning on some Bach on his iPod, he went to bed. The weary day had taken a toll on his body as had the visible swelling, which had formed around his lips.

Even guardian angels need their sleep.

* *

The next morning, Jake awoke to find his lips had turned a dark purplish hue. One more "walking into a door" story for his co-workers. Over the years he had many such incidents and visible bruises.

If he were a woman, they would definitely suspect abuse from the boyfriend. But being a man, he was spared the usual press conference of uncomfortable questions.

Breakfast was ready. It was his favourite combination of poached eggs and bacon sandwich. Kat had decided to make him breakfast as a small sign of gratitude for her antics.

"So... what are your plans for today?" she said, biting into her own toast.

"Oh the usual. Sit under fluorescent lights in a tiny cubicle. Stare at a screen. Type out useless numbers."

"Wow, fascinating," she exclaimed.

"If you say so."

There was a small break as she got some leftover takeout from the day before and put it in the microwave.

"You need a girlfriend," she said, pointing a fork in his direction.

"No I don't," he mumbled into his plate.

"Yes you do," she said indignantly. "You look like you need to get laid."

"No I don't," he repeated, surfing the news website through his Blackberry.

"I am not taking no for an answer any longer. I am setting you up with one of my friends. This time next week, you will no longer be single."

"You really must hate that poor girl," Jake chuckled.

"Oh haha." She was more sarcastic than usual. "Your sense of humour keeps getting better."

Jake carefully considered sharing his next thought with her. It could lead to a whole new set of problems.

"Actually," he began carefully, "There is a girl...."

The incomplete sentence hung in the air as Katrina seized the opening.

"WHAT?!! And you didn't tell me!!"

"Cool down. It's not like we're dating or anything. She works in my department and I have..." he paused to choose the correct words, "... grown fond of her."

"Grown fond of her?" barked Kat, tapping his forehead. "What are you? Twelve?"

"Okay, I like her a lot. But nothing can ever happen between us."

"Why not?" she said, banging her fist on the table.

"Haven't you heard of these things called sexual harassment lawsuits? I really doubt I want one at the moment."

"God!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, "You really are something. I am suggesting you ask her out, not sexually harass her."

"There isn't much difference between the two when it comes to the workplace. I'll have you know that 53 percent of...."

"Dude. For once in your life, stop over-analysing every damn thing," she sighed, "Just go with the flow this one time. Be polite, courteous and don't come on too strong. Keep a respectful distance. Say the words, don't keep it in your head and you'll do fine."

"Okay," he said, mentally recording her instructions. "Suppose she does agree, what then?"

"Uhmm let's see," she said with a contemplative finger to her lip. "Then the two of you actually go out on a date. You know, like millions of other New Yorkers do?"


Living with Katrina Ch. 01



"Fine then. I'm following your lead this one time," he said to a theatrical burst of applause from Katrina. He added, "And what happens if I get fired?"

"Oh don't worry," she said nonchalantly, "I'll blow your boss and make him take you back."

"Yeah right," he chuckled, putting on his coat.

"I'm serious. I'm really good at it. Wanna see?" she said, rising off her chair with a wicked glint in her eye.

Sensing this conversation was heading in an uncomfortable direction, he said, "No thanks" and rushed out the door, leaving Katrina to her own devices.

"Devices" meaning her rather large array of sex toys. She had a couple of impressions to finish by the end of day. Enough time for her to crank out a few orgasms from her battery-operated boyfriend.

She opened her drawer of depravity and took out an eight-inch, ribbed vibrator with a an elongated spur to pleasure her clit while she slid it in. Kat lifted it to her face, letting her familiar gaze run over every groove and ridge.

"At least you won't leave me," she muttered, kissing the bulbous head of her toy.

"Nice and easy."

She flipped the switch and the toy whirred to life. The ridges were arranged in bands along the length of the toy. Alternate bands moved clockwise while the rest moved anti-clockwise. The spur also vibrated in unison.

Kat held the toy against her clit. Years of having others suck it had made half an inch in length. Her toy wedged neatly, so that the top half was pleasured by one row, and the bottom half was rubbed in the opposite direction.

Once she got over the initial jolt, she moved her toy back and forth on her clit, rubbing it against her clit earnestly. Her nub sparked to life, sending a rush of wetness to her pussy. Her walls were soon moist and her lips raging with arousal.

Sensing her acute arousal, she slowly began inserting the vibrating head into her opening. The head was inside, stirring up her sensual fluids. Taking a deep breath, she pushed further. The toy was halfway inside her, her legs turning to mush and her toes curling in anticipation of a shattering orgasm.

She slid the rest of her toy in, rubbing the spur against her clit. A guttural moan of raw pleasure escaped her throat as her climax drew closer. Pulling it out, she thrust it back inside her needy sex, feeling the rotating head against her G-spot.

Her pussy was saturated with her liquids and she could feel her climax overwhelming her. Instinctively, she yanked her toy out. Her eyes clamped shut, swimming in a kaleidoscope of vivid colours as a jet of liquid flew out of her orifice. It gracefully arched in the air, splattering on the foot of the bed.

It took a few heavy breaths for her body to readjust to the present. Her sopping wet toy lay beside her, still whirring, and there was a wet streak going from the foot of her bed to the floor below.

"You stay faithful to me all right?" she said to the toy, laughing to herself.

After some more time spent idly chatting with her battery boyfriend, she got off the bed to clean up the evidence of her masturbation.

"Till next time," she smirked, putting the toy back in the drawer.

With this, she headed to her studio. A small private gallery had agreed to host an exhibition of her pieces in a few days. She hoped that it would get her some much-needed money.

Rent was due soon.

She stood in front of an empty canvas, paintbrush in either hand. She closed her eyes, recalling the rush of colour that had fleetingly flashed before her eyes. It was a psychedelic collage of blurry shapes and indistinct silhouettes. Immediately, she knew what to paint.

For the next hour, she furiously splashed colour onto her brush and threw it across her easel with vivid bold strokes. At the end of it, she was covered in splotches of paint. A small trickle of green went down from her lip to her chin as she smiled at her latest creation.

To the untrained eye, it was just haphazard shades randomly put on a canvas. But the same could be said of her idol Jackson Pollock. It was only when one, suitably trained, stood in front of the splatter, that the chaos disappeared. Then they appreciated the discipline, the order and the beauty.

* *

"Well?" questioned Kat, peering at him expectantly.

"Well..." he said, pausing for suspense, "I have a date on Saturday."

"Oh my God, oh my God," she said, jumping up and down and clapping like an excited kid at Christmas. "My roommate finally has a date."

"No need to get so worked up."

"I'm so proud of you Jake. I could kiss you right now," she squealed, planting a firm peck on his cheek.

"Yeah, well don't get your hopes up. Emma might just dump me after this one date."

"The girl finally has a name. Tell me about Emma. What is she like?" she inquired, stirring some Texan chilli stew for an early dinner.

"She is the assistant accounts supervisor in my section. We handle the accounts for the Eastern division. She acts as a liaison between us and the trading firms who give us their...."

"Oh shut up!" she groaned. "I meant her, not her job. You need my help much more than you realize."

She held her spatula menacingly, fully intending to smack him with it if he said something as stupid again.

"She is thirty, Irish, and a little chubby. About five and a half feet tall. Black hair."

"Good. Good," said Katrina, making mental notes. "What does she like wearing?"

"I've only seen her in stuffy formal clothes. Shirts, coats, trousers - the whole office wardrobe. She never seems interested in anything beyond the narrow confines of her work. Boring, so perfect for me."

"Sometimes the ones that look boring and prudish on the outside turn out to be really wild in bed," she said, affectionately ruffling his hair. "What are you going to wear?"

"I was thinking I'll break out the Yankees tee and that faded jeans I buried somewhere in my closet," he declared smugly.

"That's perfect," she said, turning down the heat on her pot. "Perfect for your seventh birthday, dumbass."

Jake looked crestfallen at her reaction.

"Argh! What am I going to do with you?" she cried in exasperation, clutching her hair. "Put on your jacket and grab your wallet."

"Where are we going?" he said, completely bewildered by her mood.

"Macy's. Now hurry." she shot back, grabbing a scarf and wrapping it around her neck.

Half an hour later, he was on an alien planet. It was surrounded by rows upon rows of shirts, ties, shoes and coats. He gazed at the expanse of expensive fabric with a look of silent wonder on his face.

"What do you think?" she said, grinning at him.

"Why do people need so many clothes?" Jake said, slack-jawed with awe.

"To impress people on dates, silly," she said, patting his head, adding softly. "So that they can get into their pants at the end of the night."

"Shut up," he retorted, blushing slightly. "This is just a date. No sex at the end of it. I'll have you know that Emma is very intelligent and the conversation will be enough for me."

"But can you cum in her intelligence? Can her intelligence wrap its tongue around your hard cock?" she whispered softly. "Can you feel her intelligence squirming and writhing around your erection?"

"Jeez. Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"What? Girls can't be sexually open?"

"That's not what I meant," said Jake, backing away from the raised eyebrow.

"Relax. I'm not having another of my episodes in here," she smiled and clutched his arm.

They walked up to a young, sprightly salesgirl. Her badge said CANDACE.

"Candace. Could you show us some clothes for this handsome hunk over here?" said Katrina, dragging him by his wrist.

"Mmmm," said Candace, eyeing the reluctant shopper lustily, "You weren't kidding when you said handsome."

"Thanks for the compliment, Candace, but he has been taken. In fact, this trip here is to pick out something for his first date."

"Aww," said Candace, pouting, "No one is single any more. I think I have just the stuff you need. Right this way please."

He had long since given up any resistance. His penance for listening to Kat's advice that morning was this shopping ordeal.

"I hope Emma is worth the trouble I am going through here," he muttered under his breath.

He was imprisoned in the changing room, while garment after garment was tossed in. He heard a heated discussion between the two ladies over which set of clothes was fit for his body. Once every few minutes, he was asked to wear something and come out.

He strode out each time and stood at attention while two pairs of eyes scrutinized every square inch of his clothed body. Invariably he was told to go back inside while something else was picked out from the seemingly never-ending supply of male clothing.

A full hour passed with little progress. Empty hangers littered the changing room as he tried on yet another set of clothes. His two tormentors had long since spun off into a deeply neurotic fugue of rejection.

Finally, Candace extracted a suede Italian coat and pants to go with a fine silk shirt and velvet tie. It looked all the same to him, but it made them gape. They could scarcely imagine such a sartorial triumph.

"We did it," said Katrina, hi-fiving Candace. "We made a man out of this man-child."

"Yummy," said Candace, unable to tear her eyes off the spectacle encased in fabric, "Tell you what. If your date doesn't go so well, drop by my place. I'll give you my number. Come over and I'll have the pleasure of taking these clothes off your body."

"May I join the two of you? I'll just watch, I promise," said Kat, crossing her fingers.

They traded sexual innuendos back and forth for a while, each causing poor Jake to turn a deeper shade of red. Kat looked at him and burst out laughing.

"Just look at the poor guy," she said between laughs, "He looks like he could melt any moment."

"He sure does. Now take these over to that cashier over there," Candace pointed, "Oh and Jake, your ass looks good enough to eat."

The last sentence was met with a pinch of his butt. If possible, he went even redder and scurried away from her. Katrina led him to the counter.

"Holy crap! That is a lot to pay for a set of clothes," he said as the sum total flashed on the screen in front of him.

"It'll be worth it. Trust me."

Grumbling incessantly, he gave his credit card and saw his balance rise by considerable amount. The roommates made their way back to their flat.

"Take notes, Jakey boy," said Kat in an authoritative tone. "Be on time. Nothing is as bad a turn off as being late."

"I'll be on time."

"Where are you going?"

"Pierre's. It's close to both of our places," Jake declared, proud of his planning.

"No. Your first date is not going to be in a cheap French bistro."

"But I already made reservations," he whined, deflated.

"Then cancel them," was the simple reply. "I'll get you reservations at Davide."

"Davide? That's really high end. How will you get...." he spluttered.

"Let's just say the Davide Jr and I did a few things in their large kitchen once."

"That's too much information," he yelled. "Is there any man in New York you have not slept with?"

"Well," said Kat, putting on a brooding look. "There is this one stubborn accountant who I have been trying to get in the sack for years now. No luck yet."

"No luck ever," he corrected.

"Girl can dream. Anyway, your reservations are just a phone call away."

"But I still don't know how I will pay for...."

He was silenced when she pressed her finger against his lips.

"Don't worry about money. I will cover your half of the rent this month."

"No. You don't...." he began.

"Please. I insist. It's a small way of paying you back for the times you were there for me. You've bailed me out more times than I can count and I want to pay you back in whatever little way I can. Besides, big gallery exhibition coming up. Money to be made."

Jake's conscience was fighting a losing battle against her logic. He tried to dissuade her one last time.

"But."

"No buts. Go show that Irish lass a good time. And I want to hear the gory details next morning over breakfast so don't you dare be stingy."

"No sir," he shouted with a salute.

"All right. Now for the next pearl of wisdom. Do not, and I emphasize, do not talk a lot. A one-sided conversation is the first chapter of Killing Date for Dummies."

"Point taken."

Katrina was Jake's oracle in all matters pertaining to the opposite sex. He was not going to deviate even a bit from her guidelines.

"Compliment her as much as you can. Even if they are as fake as Paris Hilton's boobs. Trust me when I say we ladies love to be flattered. Her face, her dress, her jewellery, her shoes. Hit all four and you will have her panties off before the night is over."

"I told you...."

"Yeah yeah. I know...first date, no putting out, intelligent conversation. Just letting you know, you could get lucky."

"Anything else from my fountain of wisdom?" he asked, carrying the dishes to the sink.

"Yeah. One last thing. This is the most important of all. Don't be self-conscious and try and do things out of your nature. Just be yourself. She will fall in love with you, like I...."

Katrina stopped, hoping that Jake had not heard her last two words. He continued doing his dishes. The awkward situation had been averted. This was something that even she was trying to fully comprehend.

Hastily changing the topic, she started.

"Guess what? You're not the only one with a date on Saturday."

His eyes met hers from the sink.

"No way. This must be new record shortest time between guys. Who is it?"

"Trent Harmon."

The name sounded familiar enough.

"Your ex Trent Harmon? The certifiably insane, goth graphic novelist who kept a bit of hair from your head as a souvenir? You're getting back together with that head case?" he said, amazed.

"First of all, he is not insane. He is a bit eccentric, something we creative folk enjoy. I ran into him yesterday at that small bar off Newbridge Road and hit it off like old times," she stated, "Second of all, that bit of my hair he kept -- it wasn't from my head."

It was a minor miracle that Jake did not drop the dish he was holding.

* *

"Look at you. Ready for a date," she said proudly, applying the finishing touches to his shirt and tie.

"I still can't believe people pay so much for these things," he said, fiddling with his cufflinks.

Katrina suppressed a giggle. She herself was dressed up in all her regal finery. It included a plunging neckline which revealed way too much for Jake's taste. The straps were marginally thicker than spaghetti and the hem was at a level bordering on decency.

"This is ridiculous," sighed Jake, looking at himself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. "I look like a mafia don from a 70s movie."

"That's a good thing."

"If you say so. You don't look so shabby yourself."

"Thanks," she said, giving a little pirouette. "You had better get going now. Trent should be along later."

He picked up his wallet and phone. As he was about to leave, Kat spoke up again.

"This is the first time we both have dates, so I think we need to set some ground rules."

"Ground rules for what?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, there is a chance that both of us will have sex in a few hours," she chuckled, "Well, a chance for you, a certainty for me."

"I told you we are not...."

"Yeah, yeah I remember," she said, "Don't pop a vein. But just in case you get accounts-girl to come back here for some nasty specials, go straight to your room. And don't come out. I think our rooms are far enough apart so that the noise will not be a bother."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"If our respective dates want breakfast, we let them have it. Over dinner I will hear the details of your night."

"Sounds good. Now let's go."

Jake could feel his heart thudding against his ribs at the sheer improbability of it all. He was going to pick up a woman from her house and take her out to dinner. He stood on the curb, getting his thoughts together.

"Breathe, Jake, breathe. Hundreds of people do this everyday. You can do it," he said under his breath.

"I'm sure you can," said a voice behind him. A comforting arm was soon on his shoulder.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Did you think I would let you go without a kiss for good luck?" said Katrina, petulantly, planting a soft kiss on his lips. It lingered for a short time.

"You'll do just fine, Jake. I believe in you."

Katrina had a strange ability to convince Jake of anything. The last sentence soothed his erratic pulse and he drove off towards Emma.

Emma was ready and waiting in a dark violet low cut gown. It was semi-formal at best.

"I can't believe you got us reservations at Davide!" she shrieked excitedly, "I have wanted to go there forever."

"You're welcome. Let's head out."

Oozing chivalry, he held the door to his Camaro open.

"Your earrings look lovely," blurted out Jake, suddenly remembering the dating gospel he had heard.

"Why thank you," Emma blushed.

"No thank you, for the pleasure of your company for the evening."

The blush grew deeper. The traffic was surprisingly light. Reaching the parking lot, their car immediately stuck out like a sore thumb. Jake parked his Camaro between a Gallardo and a Corvette, already feeling out of place, just as his car was.

"Even the valet here looks rich."

"This is one of the finest restaurants in the city. What do you expect?" she said.

Continuing with Katrina's advice he said, "Your dress looks splendid and it goes well with those heels."

Hand in hand they went to their allotted table. An elderly waiter came by and handed them menu cards.

"These prices sure are steep," he exclaimed. "How the hell does something cost $400?"

"Listen," said Emma, biting her lip. "I appreciate the effort you have taken, but you really don't need to spend that much on food. We can have some of the starters and finish our meal elsewhere."

"Nonsense," he said, waving away her objections, "What kind of a man would I be if I couldn't show a lady a good time?"

Inwardly, he was grateful that Katrina had relieved him of the rent burden for the month.

"So tell me," said Emma, a gleam in her eyes, "What does the great Jake Gallagher do after he gets home?"

"Not much. Eat. Chat with my roommate. Listen to music. Sleep."

"Same here. Except I live alone. What about family?"

"I'd rather not go there," said Jake. "Sorry, but that is not a happy topic for me."

She took the hint and dropped the topic.

"So what shall we order?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Beef tenderloin with honey glaze? Sounds delicious. Foie gras? And maybe a choux pastry for dessert."

"Mmm, you know your food."

"Thanks. I wanted to be a chef for a while in my teens," he said, calling a waiter over to give the order.

"So... you like the Yankees?" he said, trying to initiate small talk.

Before Emma could reply, the phone in his pocket began vibrating. He apologetically excused himself and pulled it out.

KATRINA CALLING

"What could she want now?" he thought, covering his mouth as he took the call.

"JAKE! Can you fucking believe what happened? The sonofabitch stood me up. He didn't show and now he's not picking up his phone. I need to hit something."

There was a loud clang as Kat apparently threw something. Her tone was bursting with a furious rage. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn't in his flat. She was probably taking her bipolar anger out on whatever she could lay her hands on.

He had been in the line of fire before. Ended up bloody and beaten.

"I am so angry right now, Jake."

He did not have to be told twice. He could only imagine the state of the apartment with Hurricane Katrina in full flow.




Living with Katrina Ch. 01



"Well I'm sorry. He wasn't worth it anyway. I'll be back as soon as I can, promise."

He hastily shut the phone, mentally picturing the wreck he would be walking into when he got back.

"Something wrong?" inquired Emma softly.

"It's my roommate. She is having one of her moods."

"Nothing serious I hope."

"Nah," he said, with an air of forced nonchalance, "She'll be fine."

They returned to the food and started chatting about some incident from the workplace.

"Maybe we'll be an item now. Fodder for workplace gossip," Emma giggled.

"Maybe."

His phone started vibrating again.

KATRINA CALLING.

"Excuse me one moment."

He picked up the call, dearly hoping to end it soon.

"J-J-Jake...."

He immediately sensed something wrong with the tone. It was shaky, the syllables indistinct and she was sobbing.

"What is it, Kat?"

"Jake. I-I-I cut my wrists. I'm bleeding, Jake."

He was speechless with shock. The voice on the other end changed to a full cry. The bawling stopped his heart for a moment.

"Jake I don't wanna die. Save me."



Living with Katrina Ch. 02



As always, your votes, comments and private feedback mean a lot to me.

Thanks go out to my copy editor estragon, my plot editor KatieTay and my beta readers SamanthaYvonne, GoodyGoodyTwoShoes and persorosa.

*

"J-J-Jake. Are you still there?"

"Yes! I'm on my way. The ambulance is on its way as well. Hold on."

Drivers in New York are especially reckless, but Jake was one notch higher. Holding the phone tightly to his ear, he careened through traffic at breakneck speed, violating at least a dozen traffic laws.

For a man who had lived his whole life according to rules, rules had suddenly become irrelevant. Someone he cared about was in the throes of death.

"Jake. Don't stop talking. Please don't stop."

Every syllable was punctuated by a sob.

"I'm almost there, Kat. Hold on a little bit longer."

There was an eerie silence on the other end.

"Kat? Katrina?"

No answer.

His car had barely come to a complete halt in front of the building before he was out, sprinting, running up the stairs three at a time. Adrenaline surged through his system. The other tenants stared at their usually docile neighbour charging past them.

Opening the door, Jake was taken aback by the scene before him. The living room and kitchen resembled a Bosnian war zone. Furniture was upturned, partly broken. Pictures from walls had been flung across the room. The light was cracked, dimly flickering.

Jake stepped through the wreckage. Broken glass and porcelain littered the floor. He stopped at the first small pool of blood on the floor. A smaller pool was a few feet ahead of it. Beyond that, there was a thin trail.

Heart pounding, he followed the trail. It got thicker. There was a bloody handprint against the door frame of her bedroom.

Afraid to see what was inside, he softly opened the door.

Katrina lay on the cold floor, curled in a foetal position. There was a growing pool of blood near her hands. She did not move.

"Kat?"

Jake rushed to her side. She was barely breathing. He took off his expensive tie and tied it tightly around her forearm, stanching the bleeding a little.

Rapid footfalls outside indicated EMTs' arrival. He had called 9-1-1 from the car. Two paramedics rushed into the room and put her on a gurney. One of them injected her with an artificial clotting agent. The entry of the syringe caused her eyelids to flutter.

"Jake?" she said in a pitifully weak voice, "Don't leave me alone, Jake."

He hastily ran down the stairs after the EMTs. She was put in the ambulance and he jumped in with her.

"Hold my hand, please. Don't let go."

"I won't. I promise," said Jake, holding her bloody fingers. The medic inserted an IV into her vein, desperate to keep her alive till they reached the hospital.

Half an hour later, he was pacing the corridors at the Beth Israel Medical Centre. The doctors had given her several pints of blood to steady her system. His hands were smeared with her blood and some of it went onto his new shirt as well. It took him a few minutes to realize that his phone was vibrating in his pocket.

"Hi, Jake. Emma speaking. How is she?"

"She's lost a lot of blood. The doctors say it's going to be touch and go."

"Oh! I hope she makes it."

"Me too. And I'm really sorry about our date."

"No need. It was an emergency. Your roommate's life was at stake," came the reassuring reply.

"I will make it up to you some way. I swear."

"That's okay. You take care," said Emma, dropping the call.

Jake nervously walked to and fro. His pulse was racing and his blood was cold with fear. She meant more to him than he wanted to admit.

It was an aeon later that the doctor came to the waiting room with news.

"She's stable now. We had to use several units of blood transfusion. You can go talk to her."

He entered the ward gingerly. Katrina was facing the wall with a strange disengaged look in her eye. He tentatively walked to her bedside and sat down.

"Why am I like this?"

There was the hint of a few tears under her eyes. The withdrawal from her extreme mood coupled with her near-death experience had her depressed. In intervals like this, she would analyse her whole life and reflect on all her bad decisions.

Picking Jake as a roommate was about her only good one.

He sat by her bed, putting on his best look of calm reassurance. It was poor succour for her, but he did it anyway.

"Tell me. Why am I like this?" she said, her eyes tearing up.

"You're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Aww. Look at you- making up crap for me. You are a godsend, Jake. If only...." she said, biting her lip expectantly. The uncomfortable silence lengthened as Jake looked away, lowering his gaze, and Katrina knew that he had heard the words she had not spoken aloud.

"We've been over this," he said, in a sombre tone. "It's a bad idea."

"Why?" she said, a desperate earnestness in her tone. "You are the perfect guy for me."

"I know you mean it," he said, stroking her hairline, "and I know that you want to with all your heart. I've said this before and I'll say it again. It wouldn't work."

"Why not?" she screamed indignantly. The nurse poked her head in to see if everything was all right.

"You know what would happen. We would be together. I would be too boring for you. We would not click the way you want. You would try to be faithful to me, I know you would. But then the temptation would be too great and you would sleep with someone else who matched your wavelength. Then you would come crying to me and beg for forgiveness. I would probably forgive you, but you would not be able to forgive yourself. The guilt would make you go on one of your famous benders and once more, I would be the one picking up the pieces."

He paused to let her digest his words before continuing.

"I'm sorry, Kat, but we are who we are. You will always be who you are and I will always love you for it. Just not the way you want me to."

"Why do you have to be so right?" she said, breaking down in tears. He wiped some of them away, comforting her some more.

"C'mon now. Sit up. Your food has arrived. I'll feed it to you."

Katrina sat up gingerly while he took a spoonful of the distasteful hospital food and put it in her mouth.

"This thing tastes like pubic hair."

"You would know," he chuckled.

He gave her another spoonful. She let her hand wander on his neck, stroking it.

"You know you can have me any time you want. Any time, any place, anything. No limits," she said, knowing fully well he would not take her up on her offer.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Jake, pushing another spoonful past her lips. "I'm dating now. Remember?"

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Katrina, "How was your date?"

"Interrupted, but I would say it was going well."

"Oh God! I'm so sorry for getting in the way."

"Don't worry," Jake said, kissing her forehead.

"Have you spoken to Emma since?"

"As a matter of fact, we spoke before I came into the ward. She seemed impressed by my feat. I'm a hero now."

"She said that?" said Katrina, her eyes going wide.

"In not so many words, but I got the meaning," said Jake, a faint trace of pride on his tone.

"Look at you. All popular with the ladies," squealed Kat. "Cash in on this and get another date with her NOW!!"

"Hold on, Cupid-ess. I still have to get you up and running."

"Don't worry about me," she shot back, "I'm a big girl who can take care of herself."

"I see that," he said sarcastically, "now will you make me one promise. Just one."

"Anything."

"Will you please take your meds from now on? Otherwise you will hurt yourself again... and again," implored Jake. "And I might not get there in time next time."

She looked deep into his eyes. They held more love and support for her than she would ever know.

"I will. I promise," she said quietly. They hugged. His arms was the one place she felt serene and secure. They held each other for a few minutes.

"Okay," he said, disengaging himself from her arms, "Gotta call the carpenter. Our apartment needs some fixing. Now, you're covering my half of the rent this month, right?"

She nodded. Her art was ready.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I am sure. The gallery opening should rake in enough money."

"Great then. I'll start on getting the place fixed. You get better, okay?"

Saying this, Jake pecked her on the cheek and left, oblivious to the wetness between her legs. Katrina was desperately aroused each time she saw him, but stifled her feelings.

"I can't love him. I can only hurt him," played again and again in her mind. She was not going to hurt him.

* *

Jake Gallagher was confused.

In front of him was a canvas with an unusual spread of colours. A red swathe went across the centre, splitting it in half. The top half had a thick blue line bordering it, enclosing several awkward shapes. The bottom half was symmetrically drawn, keeping the red line as a mirror.

"Like it?"

The sudden shrill voice in his ear made him jump. He turned to his right to see a beaming Katrina. He was surrounded by a crowd at the Lincoln Centre gallery. Some of them made intelligent remarks about the art and Jake stared at it contemplatively, pretending to understand something.

"It's... hmm... very...." he struggled to find an adjective.

"You don't have a clue about modern art, do you?"

"Not even a bit."

"There is really not all that much to understand. The red line represents you, the good and the bad. The shapes show the darker and lighter sides of a self. They are opposite, yet ambiguous because the concept of good and evil is subjective."

"That all flew way over my head," said Jake. "How is the exhibition going?"

"Oh it's coming along well enough. I'm expecting some well known critics to come along and appraise it for the buyers."

Lowering her voice to a whisper she confided, "The buyers wouldn't know art if I drew it on my tits. They just want a critic to give a good review and they will buy it. More as a fashion statement than anything else."

"That works. Now if you will excuse me, I have a date to get to," said Jake, in a suave tone.

"Oh yeah. You're seeing accounts-girl again," applauded Kat. "Now remember. You have done all the hard work with your 'heroism' the last time. Play this well and you will have her panties in her mouth by the end of the night."

"Why would anyone want to put their...." he started, before realizing it was something he really was better off not knowing about. "Never mind."

"Best of luck, handsome" said Kat, planting a quick peck on his lips.

With Jake gone, she turned her attention back on the spread of artwork before her. The opening needed to go well for her to pay the whole rent like she promised.

"Just one good review," she muttered under her breath, "One good review and I can sell the lot."

Sadly, that one good review never came.

* *

"My, my... aren't we well dressed tonight?" said Emma, opening the door. "I'll be right out."

Jake held her hand and escorted her to his car. She was wearing a conservative dress and a plaid skirt.

"Who says chivalry is dead?" she joked.

They drove to a bistro and sat down at a small side table. She looked gorgeous and her dazzling smile captivated him.

"What are you doing?" inquired Jake, feeling a sudden touch on his thigh.

"Nothing you won't want me to do," she said. "Nothing I haven't been thinking of doing for ages now."

The palm stroked his thigh under the table. His mind went into a tizzy of shock as her roving fingers came closer and closer to his clothed member.

"Emma, I really don't think this is the time or place to be doing that."

"Quit whining," she snapped. "Enjoy this. We both need a break from the crappy number crunching and I can't think of a better way than feeling you up."

"Yes. But in public? Under a table?"

"I know, right?" she said, with a devious gleam in her eyes, "Doesn't the thrill of the situation get you aroused?"

"No," Jake said flatly, "It makes me afraid of getting caught."

She chose to ignore him and started rubbing his member through his trousers. He gasped as he felt it growing in size, straining against the tight fabric of his underwear.

"You are definitely well endowed, my friend," she whispered to him. "And so thick."

Her fingers circled around his shaft and rubbed it back and forth through the jeans. Wanting better access, she leaned forward and undid his zipper. All that separated her from his organ was a flimsy undergarment.

"Much better," she exclaimed, rubbing him with a greater intensity now. "Admit it. You like this."

Jake barely nodded. His senses were in overdrive with the unfamiliar sensations of pleasure racing up and down his nervous system. His skin was tingling and he had to stifle a small gasp of pleasure.

A red-haired waitress came over.

"May I say the two of you look beautiful today?" she said with a huge smile.

"Why thank you," replied Emma, fiddling with his engorged prick under the table. "Why don't you order for us?"

Jake was shocked senseless. He could barely look straight, let alone speak. The pretty waitress turned towards him expectantly. He quickly lifted the menu to cover his uncomfortable expression.

"We'll have the umm...." he tried to concentrate on the menu and not on her slender fingers which relentlessly molested his covered penis.

The waitress waited patiently, mildly amused by his struggle.

"We'll have the ... quiche and the... coq au vin and ...." he struggled as Emma brought him closer and closer to cumming.

"Bouillabaisse" he somehow blurted out, finishing his order as he felt a wetness on the inside of his underwear against the head of his cock.

The waitress left, puzzled at this strange man. Emma drew her hand from under the table. Raising a fingertip to her mouth, she sensually licked it.

"How was it?" she asked, grinning wickedly.

"It was... different."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Let's start eating now."

The starters disappeared as soon as they arrived. They descended on them like ravenous wolves.

"So... about your roommate?

"She's fine now. In fact her exhibition is going on. I don't understand the art, but I guess there are enough rich art lovers here to buy her work. All I saw were colours and shapes."

"That's modern art for you. It makes sense only to eccentric nuts," she declared.

"Rich eccentric nuts," he corrected.

The sumptuous bouillabaisse arrived with a stick of baguette. They broke off parts of it and dipped it in the broth.

"Back to work from tomorrow," Jake grumbled. "I swear, these weekends never last."

"Cheer up! We are on the verge of getting a big contract from Carmichael Industries to do their books. It's a lot of work, but they pay twice as much as our usual clientèle."

"Cheers to that," said Jake, raising a flute of champagne.

"Now, I know the third date is the norm for the first time, but how about we pre-pone sex to... now?" said Emma, causing Jake to spill the soup on his shirt in shock.

Disbelievingly, he looked up at her.

"You want to what?" he blurted out.

"Oh Jake!" she sighed, "Did you not have the birds and the bees talk?"

"I did, but I never thought I would need it on a second date."

Emma leaned over the table and lowered her voice to a whisper. "This may only be the second date for you, but I have wanted you in the sack for years now."

"You have?" said Jake, still believing it was a surreal dream.

"Are you kidding me?" she said. "You are hot property in the office. Everybody from the copy girl to the secretary wants to date you. If only you had been a bit more receptive all these years."

"Receptive?" he inquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Did the new junior accountant Bonnie come to your office yesterday?" she asked, biting into her bread.

"As a matter of fact, yes. She needed the break-down of those last quarterly numbers from our audit."

"Yes. But did you see what she was wearing?" asked Emma, with a half-smile playing on her lips.

"Not really. Why?"

"Did she lean over the table much?" asked Emma, her tone slowly creeping up.

"Come to think of it, yes. What are you implying?"

"Oh Jake!" said Emma wistfully, patting his shoulder. "Bonnie was hoping you would notice her new black lace bra. She put a lot of effort into making it just visible enough when she leans over."

"Really?" he said, gaping.

"I'm serious," she said, finishing her food. "Not to be a killjoy, but I would dearly love to have you inside me. So can we wrap up things here fast?"

"Jeez, slow down..."

"Bill please," yelled Emma. "Sorry, but I have waited long enough."

* *

Katrina counted out her earnings from the gallery. It wasn't nearly as much as she needed to pay the entire rent as promised. In fact, it was barely enough to pay her half of it.

"There has to be some mistake. This can't be it," she said to herself, and started recounting the cash.

But it was. It was not nearly enough.

She collapsed into the chair, holding her head in her hands. The buyers had paid less than she had hoped. Her eyes surveyed the refurnished living room. It had cost Jake a fair amount putting it back together after her rage-fuelled fit. He could not pay the other half even if he wanted to.

"He shouldn't have to," she said under her breath, "I promised him."

Her phone's buzzing interrupted her. JAKE CALLING.

"Hey Jake. How's your date going?"

"Well. I called to tell you that you don't have to wait up for me. I'll be spending the night at Emma's."

"Omigod my roommate is about to have sex," she squealed like an excited teen.

"Yes yes. Now can we please act like adults? How did your exhibition go?"

"Not bad. I've made enough," she lied.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Bye and I want explicit details of your romp later," she said, shutting the phone.

It was all too much for her as she collapsed in a flood of tears. Her body was wracked by sob after sob as tears cascaded down her cheeks onto the cold floor. She had let him down.

"I promised I would not let him down. I promised."

A light switched on in her head. There was a way for her to get some more money on short notice. There was one person out there in New York who was willing to pay her a large sum for one particular painting.

"No. There has to be some other way," her conscience screamed. That particular painting meant a lot more than the mere smattering of paint on a canvas. If she painted that, it would mean victory for a sadistic sociopath.

She closed her eyes, picturing him. His wicked eyes, lips curled in a callous grin and all the instruments of torture in his private chamber.

Katrina was not averse to BDSM, having played both domme and sub under various settings, but this person was a monster. The only objective on his mind was to hurt her. Physically or otherwise. The "painting" was part of an elaborate mind-game, signalling the end of her soul as she knew it.

"No. There has to be another way."

She scoured her savings and her private accounts, but there was nothing. A lot had been riding on this opening and it had not delivered as well as she had wanted.

The only alternative left was...her mind refused to even think about it.

Defying every fibre of her being, she picked up her phone. The number was not stored there any longer. Her unwilling hands reached into her private closet and found her old address book. It contained every number she had ever called. Every memory she wanted to remember, every dark secret she desired to forget.

There it was. The number of one of her first patrons. He seemed charismatic and his intelligence had snared her attention. He had come into a huge inheritance and had hired her to paint some landscapes from his mansion.




Living with Katrina Ch. 02



She had known she was going to end up in the sack with him. What she had not known was how much it would leave her scarred for life. At the end of that night, she packed and ran. No one amount of money was worth enduring another second of his depravity.

And now, six years later, Katrina Bauer dialled that number. Her fingers trembled with paroxysms of shock and denial, yet her mind guided her forward.

"H-hello," she said, her voice unsteady. She desperately tried to hide her fear.

There was no reply, just an eerie silence on the other end. She could hear a heavy breathing. He did not even need to speak to get her heart racing and her shaking with fear. Kat took a deep breath and composed herself. The next few words would be the hardest of her life to say.

"I am willing to do that last painting you wanted."

Still no words, but she heard a devious chuckle on the other end of the phone. The devil was clearly enjoying this. He could sense fear and he clearly felt the abject terror in her tone.

"How much is it worth to you?"

Silence. Then a voice spoke up, "Twenty five thousand dollars."

Six years. Yet the cold voice made her hair stand on end. A deluge of repressed memories flew out of a dark crevice of her mind as she pictured the man behind it. Twenty five thousand dollars was enough to pay the rent for several months.

The voice spoke again, "Make it exactly like I wanted it. Every detail."

For a long moment, Katrina was twenty-two again. She shivered with fear at every word.

"Why? Why do you want me to do this?"

"Because I can," was the simple reply and the line went dead.

Kat still clutched the phone to her ear. Her grip on it was so tight that her knuckles went pale. His mere voice had defiled her.

"It's okay," she said to herself. "I'm doing this for Jake."

* *

In all the years Jake had worked with Emma, he had always thought her to be a prim, proper sophisticated lady with conservative morals.

His broken delusion was kneeling between his legs, taking most of his throbbing erection between her ruby-red lips. He threw his head back and gasped with pleasure as she swirled her tongue around the shaft and slobbered around the sides.

It was truly as if someone had placed him in a Freudian dream. The unreality continued when Emma grabbed his ass with one hand and pushed him forward towards her. His hips were almost against her face and his cock ploughed deeper into her hungry mouth.

He had consigned himself to the role of a passive partner as she continued her oral assault on his hardened genitalia. The hand left his butt and snaked its way up the front of his torso, feeling his well-built chest. Putting her palm against it, she pushed him flat on the bed.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted you on my bed," she said, devouring his cock once more with renewed gusto.

Raising her head off his erection, she lustily gazed at the seven-inch tower of pulsing meat in front of her. She planted a kiss on the head and got on the bed. Manoeuvring around, she straddled his face, holding her dripping wet snatch inches above his mouth.

"Have you ever eaten pussy before?"

"Once when I was really drunk in college. I don't think...."

The rest of the words were drowned by her thick labia planting itself directly over his mouth. She moved her hips a bit, until her positioning was perfect.

"Consider this a refresher course."

Jake blindly licked whatever part of the fleshy vulva that he could reach with his tongue. There was not much technique to his motions. Eventually, he decided to push his tongue as deep inside her as he could.

His idea paid dividends as she began to writhe and moan atop his face. Her eyes went out of focus as his tongue reached deep inside her, rubbing against her soaked walls. He unknowingly lashed out against her G-spot, causing her to moan over and over again on the crests of pleasure.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she moaned, rolling her luscious wet flesh against his face.

"I didn't," he gasped before she planted herself back on his face.

"Boy, you sure have some great instincts. That's it. Right there."

Jake continued thrusting his tongue back and forth into her slick orifice, eliciting strong moans of pleasure from her.

Abruptly she raised herself off his face, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Clambering down his supine form, she pirouetted awkwardly until she was facing him and her dripping pussy hovered inches above his turgid erection.

She sank down on it, letting out a long shrill moan as his thickness filled her walls, stretching her in ways she had not known possible. His mushroom head went deep inside her, touching her in hitherto unexplored regions of her vagina.

"Oh Jake. This is better than I imagined," she said, beginning to move her body up and down on his member.

He was too far gone in his own pleasure to form a coherent reply. Her fleshy walls clenched around his pole, spurring him to heights of pleasure he had not fathomed. Her vaginal muscles held him firmly inside her.

A forgotten feeling started in his groin. It grew and built, feeding on itself until it reached a crescendo of pleasure. He gasped as a streak of pleasure coursed upwards from his rigid shaft, lighting up every nerve ending across his body.

"Em. I'm about to...."

Before he could finish, thick ropes of hot cum shot out of him deep inside her love canal. She gasped as she felt every burst hitting against her inner wall, coating her insides white. She held him tightly in place as the last few loads deposited themselves.

Emma fell on Jake and they held each other in a sweaty tangle of limbs. She was catching her breath while he was dizzy from the experience.

"You're on birth control right?"

"Of course not," was her simple reply, "I want to give birth to your baby."

His face turned a million different colours. Words formed in his throat and got lost in transit to his mouth as he reeled under the news. Emma looked at his face with an amused expression before she burst out laughing.

"Relax, Jake. I'm on the pill. Messing with you is too much fun."

"Oh," he said, composing himself, "Can I ask for a favour?"

"After fucking me that well, you can ask for my kidney," she said, stroking his chest. "What do you want?"

* *

Katrina held her medication in her hand. She had promised Jake she would take it. She examined the contents of her bottle closely. Then she looked up at the empty canvas.

She would have to let him down one way or the other. This way would hurt him less.

"I've always let him down. This time will be no different."

Putting the bottle down, she lay in bed. Her mind was seething with anger. She was angry at Fate. Fate had put her in such a position. Another part of her was angry at the world. Yet another part raged at life. The white hot anger finally coalesced in a raging inferno of hatred.

Hatred and anger towards herself.

She got up, a woman possessed. Her hand shook with fury as she picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in black. Her strokes were surprisingly steady. First she drew legs, shapely and long. They were bizarrely sketched in space, as if suspended by invisible strings. She put effort into drawing the part between the legs as well.

Taking a deep breath she started on the torso. It was not the ideal hourglass, but well shaped nevertheless. The breasts were rounded and the nipples stood out. The arms were askew. Now for the head.

She started with a mass of hair strewn in every direction. The slender neck gave way to a beautifully radiant face with a forlorn look.

"Not sad. The face has to show pain."

She whitened over the face and started again. This time the expression was of a pain so profound, it had numbed her senses. The sad eyes looked at the artist, accusing her of defiling her conscience with this grotesquely perverse art.

Katrina took a step back and studied the painting. It was her. Every feature on the painting was her. A self-portrait of pain and torture. But it was barely done.

The anger jangled in her bones as she picked another paintbrush and dipped it in red. Red. The colour he liked to see. The colour that got him aroused.

The colour of blood.

A deep-seated sadness simmered inside her. How had she let it come to this? She would never know. The sadness permeated from inside her to her fingertips.

"This is for you, Jake."

Her arms moved across the painting, drawing slashes of red on the body. Flecks of red around the main lines symbolized blood. He had wanted her to draw herself as he saw her. His details were explicit and his instruction succinct.

"Bleed."

One more brushstroke and she could feel the cold steel against her face. Her eyes burnt as the light glistened off the blade. Somewhere in that dazzling illuminance, she saw the silhouette of a face. Her breathing quickened as the brightness gave way to a smile and she felt the blade breaking through her skin.

Warm, thick and red. A trickle of blood came down from her cheek to her lips. Her pulse went into overdrive as his face came within inches of hers.

"Sit sanguinem." Let there be blood.

She struggled against her restrains, causing him to laugh. His laughter sent a shiver down her spine. It was unearthly, almost inhuman. There was no warmth in his eyes, as his icy stare bored into her.

He brought the knife down to her mouth. She did not part her lips at first, but he seemed willing to cut them right off her face if she tarried any longer. He placed the edge of the blade against her tongue, letting her tastebuds imbibe the metallic taste.

"You will make me a masterpiece. Showing you just like you are right now. Like I want to see you forever."

Her eyes opened wide in abject terror as he smeared the blade on her cheek, painting her in her own blood. The smile never left his face as the cold steel made first contact with her breasts. She screamed, which did little more than mildly amuse him. He was having fun...

Tears streamed down her face as memories she had carefully buried came streaming back to her. She was once again in his mansion in the Hamptons. Once more tied in his chamber of horrors. Once more bleeding out of more places than she thought possible. Once more, scared beyond death.

Drawing this for him was his final thrust into her guts. A permanent reminder of how he had claimed her soul.

She stepped back, gasping for breath. Her breathing was heavy and her arms were tired. This time, she had not wrecked the apartment, but she had lost part of herself. In front of her stood a self-portrait, cut and bleeding from every place imaginable. It screamed out at her, begging for mercy.

She had painted her soul on the canvas. Now all that was left was to sell it to the devil.

She sat on the floor, gazing at the macabre drawing for ages. The sunrise was still far away when she felt a palm on her shoulder.

"Hi Jake," she did not even turn around. The usual cheer in her voice was gone, replaced by a hollow tone.

"Hi Katrina," he said, pursing his lips, trying not to look at the painting in front of him.

"I'm sorry Jake. So sorry."

"It's okay," he said, lifting her up off the floor and wrapping her in a hug. "You didn't have to do this, though."

"Yes I did. My exhibition did not make nearly enough to cover the whole rent. I can only pay my half. I'm so sorry."

He disengaged himself from the hug and wiped away her tears with his finger.

"I talked Emma into giving me the night shift as well for the next two weeks. Given the scale of our new accounting contract we could use some extra hands and I offered mine. That should pay the other half of the rent and then some," he said calmly.

"But.. how?" Kat stammered, at a total loss for words.

"What can I say?" Jake shrugged, "You're a terrible liar. When I spoke to you over the phone, I knew."

"Oh Jake!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "You're a much better friend that I deserve."

"Really?" he said. "Turn around."

She turned and they both gazed at the grisly painting in front of them.

"You were willing to do THAT for me. Do you think I can ever forget your expression when you came back that night? Scarred and terrified? I have never seen you more afraid. You went back to that part of your mind and drew that monster's fantasy, just for my sake. Thank you for being my friend," he said softly. "Burn that evil portrait now."

"No," said Katrina, resolutely.

"No?"

"No. I am going to hang it up in my studio. As a reminder how far I was willing to fall before my guardian angel saved me. I need to be reminded as often as possible."

They held each other in a tight embrace. Kat clasped her hands around his back and buried her face in his shoulder.

Jake meant more to her than any lover ever could.

"Now about the sex you and Emma had...." she started.

"How about we talk over some pizza? I hear Nick's is open all night."

"Oooh yes. I'll grab my purse," she squealed like an excited little girl.

"I'll change into something that doesn't smell of sex."

"Maybe we can stop at the sex toy store on our way back. It stays open all night as well," said Kat, "Find something for you and what's-her-name to use."

"Keep dreaming."



Living with Katrina Ch. 03



Chapter 3 now. Vote, comment and let me know how you liked it.

Thanks to estragon for copy edits, KatieTay for content edits and my beta readers SamanthaYvonne and the very special damppanties.

"Long ago it must be

I have a photograph

Preserve your memories

They're all that's left you"

- Bookends, Simon & Garfunkel

* *

An eight-hour work day was enough to make Jake drop dead from exhaustion. He could barely find the energy to get back to his apartment and collapse on his bed. A sixteen-hour work day felt like a violation of the prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment.

Two weeks of sixteen-hour workdays, and Jake felt like he had been a working guest at a Stalinist gulag. Out of pity, Emma gave him the last shift off, letting him return home for some much needed rest. He fell asleep on the subway, asking the passenger beside him to wake him up at his stop.

It took all his remaining strength to crawl to his building. Sleep weighed heavily on his droopy eyes and there were visible bags underneath. Paying his half of the rent had never taken so much out of him.

The door was strangely unlocked. Curious, he entered. His sleepy eyes opened wide as he surveyed the living room. There were candles on every conceivable surface, lit in a surreal display of fiery illumination. The electric lights themselves were switched off.

He took a step forward and his foot caught on something. He bent down and picked up a dress. It seemed to have been thrown hastily on the floor. His eyes found the bottom half of the dress strewn a few feet to the right. Following the fabric trail farther, he found some female undergarments bunched up close together, a few feet from the bedroom door. Katrina's door.

Jake walked past the trail, not sure what to expect. Against his better judgement, his hand turned the doorknob. He had barely opened the door, when he felt his eyes burning themselves out of his skull.

On the bed lay his dear roommate, without a stitch of clothing on her body. Glittery ribbons had been draped around her torso, waist and thighs. Her arms were also wrapped and placed behind her back. She lay face down on the bed, like an elaborate Christmas present.

There was a wicked gleam in her eyes as her head turned towards the door. It rapidly changed to shock and horror as she saw Jake's wide-eyed stare.

"I'm so sorry. I should have knocked," he mumbled, incoherently before hastily turning around and rushing out the way he came. In doing so, he snagged his foot on the carpet and tripped. His right arm came out to break his fall. Pain roared through his forearm. He had not broken any bones, but his wrist was sprained.

"Jake! Are you all right?" she cried out, rushing to his side.

"I'll be fine. Just need some ice," he groaned, grimacing through the obvious pain. "Oh God. Please put something on."

"Let's get you to your room first," Katrina said, lifting him off the floor.

She helped him to his room. His knee was scraped from the fall, so he limped along gingerly.

"How was your day?" she said innocently, hoping he would not ask her about her ribbon dressing pose.

"Tiring," he said, leaning on her naked body for support. He felt her full, round breast against his chest and quickly backed off.

"God!" Kat exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "They're just tits. It's okay to be in contact with one."

He collapsed on his bed, his body utterly unwilling to move an inch.

"What's with the gift dress?"

"Oh it's nothing," she waved off, "I was giving myself as a present to someone. Think of it as roleplay."

He groaned inwardly. New relationship, new problems, a new disaster looming. Katrina Bauer never had an uncomplicated boyfriend.

"Do I want to know?" he said, kicking off his shoes, wincing with the pain in his knee, earnestly looking away from the naked present beside his bed.

"Remember that critic who gave me a trashy review for my last opening? The professor of Modern Art at Hofstra University?" said Katrina, pulling off his socks. "I was pissed, so I went to tell him what I thought of his review. Apparently my art 'lacks vision and imagination' and it resembled the 'finger painting of a three year old'. I went to his office yesterday."

"Oh that guy," said Jake, vaguely remembering the newspaper review. "Dean Hamilton. Wait a second! Did you...?"

Katrina grinned with a mixture of guilt and victory in her eyes.

"Twice in his office yesterday afternoon and once at his place last night."

"Isn't he like seventy?" he said, unable to hide the amazement in his voice.

"Only sixty five," she shot back with a glare for good measure, "That doesn't matter. Age is only a number. He is a brilliant person and he knows so much about Impressionism and Modern Art. And if I say so myself, he is so good in the sack. So tender, so giving."

Her reminiscing had her aroused to the point that her nipples stood out of her chest like hard points. There was also a dampness between her legs.

"It's okay, I can do without details!" he yelled. "How does he even get it up?"

"With little blue pills, of course," she said triumphantly, "But the pills don't give him his gifted tongue. That is absolutely my favourite part of his anatomy."

"I think I know way too much about Dr. Hamilton now," he sighed, his eyes clamped shut. "But why call him back here?"

"I didn't know you were coming back after only one shift tonight. I was expecting Dean. I'm so sorry I startled you."

"It's okay. I'll get out of your hair. Now, can you please go back to your room so I can open my eyes and not see nudity?"

Katrina hurried out. Jake kept his eyes closed for a few more minutes. His roommate was going through a worse-than-usual string of boyfriends at the moment. Few others knew her the way he did, and the signs did not bode well at all.

His mind was way too tired to dwell on that. He surrendered himself to a deep and dreamless sleep in his office clothes.

* *

After the mishap with Jake, Katrina returned to her gift-wrapped position on her bed. For one fleeting moment, she had a vision of Jake coming and removing her ribbons, slowly, with that caring smile on his face.

Shrugging off her silly fantasy, she waited expectantly. At last she heard the welcome opening of the doorknob. Soft footfalls echoed and gradually got closer. Her skin was tingling with excitement as her door was pushed open.

The tall form of Dean Hamilton stood in the doorway. Despite his advanced years, he was in remarkably good shape. He carried himself with dignified poise and regal elegance. There were creases and wrinkles along his cheek, accompanying tufts of silver hair along his earline. His eyes sparkled with an inner fire that burned strong even at this age.

"Hello Katrina," he said in his deep baritone. "I see you have a present for me."

She responded by rolling over on her front, giggling coquettishly. Her ample breasts came into view, partially covered by a flimsy ribbon. Her eyes looked up at his face.

"Won't you unwrap your present now?" she said, raising a coy finger to her lips, looking at him with a gaze of earnest expectation.

"I'd be delighted to!" exclaimed Dr Hamilton, "Or as they say in France Il serait pour moi un privilège."

"Je t'aime," she smiled, "Every part of you."

He leaned in and kissed her. His experienced tongue lapped at her mouth, drawing her tongue out and entangling it in a passionate duel. She locked her lips against his and drew him into a torrid kiss, frothing the saliva in his mouth with her dexterous tongue.

Katrina put her hands around his neck, pulling him over until he was on top of her. Their kiss remained intact as she explored the inner regions of his mouth with a hungry intensity. One of her hands reached down into the waistband of his trousers and fondled his cock. It seemed to resist her efforts.

"I am not as young as I once was, my dear," he said, smiling at her through a few wrinkles. "Yesterday was the most strenuous day I have seen in many years, and the most satisfying as well."

She began undoing his buttons. One of his hands reached behind her back to cup her ass. She moaned gently as his hands grabbed both her cheeks and mashed them against each other. His index finger made a long caress down the length of her crack, teasing her hole on the way.

"Mmmm... your finger feels so good."

Dr Hamilton smiled and slowly dragged his finger back up, this time pausing at her hole for a more thorough inspection. His fingertip barely went past her sphincter, when she moaned loudly into his ear.

"Oooh... a little more please. I love being penetrated back there."

"Soon enough, Katrina. Soon enough you will feel more than my fingers at your backdoor."

"I look forward to it," she said, pushing her tongue into his mouth again. "Have you had your pill?"

"Yes. But you have to remember my age. Give it some time."

Katrina turned him over so he lay face up. Her tongue started at the top of his chest and zigzagged its way down past his silvery pelt of chest hair, until it was level with his mass of pubic hair. His semi-hard rod drooped outward.

She stabbed at the middle of it with her tongue, causing a tremor. She smiled and repeated her action, causing a more pronounced shudder from his organ. Holding it up, she swallowed the entirety of it in her mouth.

Dr Hamilton's eyes went wide as he felt her tongue caress his organ and slurp all around it. He held her head, letting her golden tresses slide through his fingers. She bobbed up and down, gradually bringing his member to full hardness.

Detaching her face from his erection, she took a moment to admire her handiwork. It was erect and of a decent size as well. Her long tongue sneaked out and she jabbed at his crown with the tip.

"Turn over, my dear."

Taking her cue, Kat swung her leg over his recumbent form until her delicious pussy hovered on his face. He stuck his tongue out, inserting it deep into her sopping wet flesh, causing her to moan. Her eyes clamped shut as she lost herself in the abyss of pleasure.

They continued in their 69. Both of them felt a simultaneous stirring. The two trains of ecstasy hurtled towards each other. Closer and closer they came, willing each other to a tremendous climax and then finally....

In a stupendous moment of mutual climax, the riptide of orgasm tore through their bodies at once. Dr Hamilton shot his sperm deep into her throat while she gushed all over his tongue. Too spent to move, they lay in their 69 position, sweating against each other.

"Round two?" said Katrina, hope in her gasping tone.

"Give it some time."

* *

Jake slept soundly for the first time in ages. Two weeks of deferred sleep caught up to him. The next day was Sunday, and he fully intended to get up at noon. His sore muscles ached for somnolent indulgence.

Those plans were hastily thrown out the window. A high pitched shriek in the middle of the night disturbed his slumber. His heavy eyes narrowed in exhausted despair. Hurricane Katrina was brewing in the distance.

It took all his strength to drag himself out of bed. In the distance, he heard the familiar symphony of bipolar rage exploding against the walls. Shaking off his sleep, he staggered past the kitchenette into her room. He needed to get there before she hurt herself.

"Can you fucking believe what he did?" came the enraged voice.

"What?" replied Jake, frankly too tired to care.

"He screamed out his dead wife's name when he was up my ass. Like I was a surrogate for her. The bastard!!"

The sleep temporarily went away. He rubbed his eyes to alertness as his mind processed the latest bit of information. Dr Hamilton had fallen short of Katrina's expectations.

"Here," he said, opening his arms for her.

Still muttering under her breath, she walked into his hug and held him tightly.

"He seemed so good. Despite his age, he was so sexy," she sobbed, "And that was all I was to him, an image of his dead wife. That was all he saw in me."

Jake caressed her hair softly. His fingers took their time on her scalp, pressing gently. Her sobs shook her body, each one causing her idea of love to break apart some more.

"Why can't anybody love me for just ... me?" she choked through the tears. "Am I that unworthy of love? I need to be someone else to be loved."

"Don't ever say that about yourself. Katrina Bauer is a wonderful person, whether any one else sees it or not."

"You're right," she said, releasing a fresh wave of tears, "No one else sees it but you."

The storm had passed. She was stable again. Melancholia swept through her body, robbing her of her usual mirth and rendering her tone listless. Jake had seen this depth of despondency before and it never got easier seeing it.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she said, softly. "I don't want to cry myself to sleep."

"Of course you can."

He held her tightly, leading the way to his bed.

"Wait," said Jake, stopping midway to his room. "When you said 'sleep with me', did you mean...?"

"No, dumbass. I mean I'm tired and need you to cuddle me while I sleep," she groaned.

* *

Katrina stood in her studio, pondering over her next piece. Her heart was set on an orchard scene, something simple, yet elegant. She drew a bit, then discarded it, not liking her initial vision of the orchard. The next few attempts met a similar fate. She was on her fifth version of a cherry tree when she heard the knock.

She went to the door, puzzled at how Jake returned so soon with the groceries. The haggard figure of Dr Hamilton greeted her in the hallway. His red eyes showed his tormented, sleepless night. She glared him down.

"What are you back for?" she said in a voice that could have frosted glass.

"I want to say...."

"Save it!" and the door slammed shut in his face.

She stormed back to her easel, ignoring the persistent knocking on her door. Blocking out the sound, she started her sixth version of the recalcitrant cherry tree. Gradually, the knocking grew fainter and eventually stopped altogether.

Jake was walking up the stairs when he saw a defeated old man, slouching on his way down. Not giving it a second thought, he walked up to his door and knocked.

"Oh you're back," smiled Kat, "You'll never guess who decided to show up and left just now."

"Oh I'm sure I can guess," he said, putting his groceries on the table. "What did he say?"

"I don't know and quite frankly, I don't care," she retorted.

"Still," pressed on Jake, unwisely. "Would it hurt to hear him out?"

"You know what?" said Kat angrily. "I don't need relationship advice from you. Mind your own fucking business! I'm going to Central Park to get my head straight and actually paint something worth selling."

The door slammed loudly on her way out. He sank into his recliner and sighed loudly. He needed something to cheer him up and rest those tired muscles. Almost providentially, his Blackberry started beeping. He checked the message.

Emma Byrne: Wanna meet up for lunch and some hot sex at my place? Hint- Lunch is optional ;)

In line with the bizarre direction his life had taken over the past few weeks, a booty call from his supervisor did not seem out of place. He tried texting back, but gave up after a few typos too many. Instead he called her up and affirmed his intention.

He would be getting his cheer, just no rest for his tired muscles.

* *

It took Katrina the better part of an hour to find a suitable spot. It overlooked a grove of birch and cherry trees and gave a perfectly undulating green landscape. The idyllic hillock was made to create great art.

She took a moment to see the surroundings in her mind's eye. It was perfectly calm - the lush grass, the trees gently swaying to the breeze and the menagerie of birds chirping their hearts out. Her landscape would take the viewer to the place she had created in her mind.

On the seventh attempt, the cherry tree came out correctly. The trunk was slender and the leaves spread out, shadowing the shrubbery. The tint of red from the sun filtered through the mass of leaves. Satisfied with one tree, she started on drawing a small squirrel beside it. The outline of his face was done, when she felt a palm on her shoulder.

She lashed out involuntarily, narrowly missing Dr Hamilton's face. Turning around, it took all her self-control not to stab him with the paintbrush in her hand. He immediately moved a few steps back, holding his arms out defensively.

"You followed me here?!" she said, unable to hide the seething anger in her voice.

"Just give me five minutes to talk. Five minutes, that's all I ask."

"You don't get to make requests for my time any more," she said, rage boiling under her skin. "First you trash my opening, then you fuck me over in memory of your wife. Haven't you done enough?"

She paused to catch her breath. Her eyes flashed death rays at the elderly figure in front of her. Her tone was quivering with anger as she continued.

"You should go now. Go before my bipolarity makes me do something you will regret."

"Two minutes then," he pleaded earnestly.

"You get one minute. Start talking."

"Thanks," said Dr Hamilton. "I want you to know how much I regret what happened between us last night. I wish I could turn back time and keep my big mouth shut for once. I hurt you and for that I am truly ashamed."

Kat looked at him with a look of bored derision as he went on.

"When you walked in through my office doors, it was like forty years ago. You reminded me of my wife. Gloria, God bless her soul, was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was my angel, my dream and my heart in one beautiful package. Our love was something I miss every waking moment of my life."

He paused to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Your image stirred feelings inside me that I thought had died when Gloria died decades ago. I am so sorry. I had to feel loved once more. You were my Gloria, my love."

Kat turned her head to obliquely stare at him. She tried to figure out what his next words were.

"I want you to have this," he said, pushing a paper bag into her hands. Inside it was a felt covered box. Curiously, she opened it to see a glittering silver necklace. It was adorned with a single topaz in the centre, which radiated shards of golden light in every direction. She could not contain a gasp of amazement.

"I gave this to Gloria on our first anniversary. She loved wearing it and looked even more beautiful in it, if that was possible. I'm sure it would have the same effect on you."

Katrina was still speechless. Her mind was in overdrive, trying to sort out the trains of thought coming from every direction.

"Once more, I want to say how deeply sorry I am. I wish you the very best. My minute is up now."

Dr Hamilton turned to leave. He had barely gone a few paces when he heard a soft voice.

"You must have really loved her," said Katrina, letting her fingers run over the expensive topaz.

"She was my one and only. Always will be."

"Was she beautiful?" she asked, putting the box back in the paper bag.

"Much more than mere words can say."

"Did you go out with her often?"

Even as he puzzled over the last question, Katrina walked up to him and asked in her sultriest voice, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Dr Hamilton stepped back, his mind reeling from the last statement. It took him a full minute to fully register what she asked. His mouth was gaping and his eyes were wide with amazement. She stood, anticipating an answer.

"I would love to," he said, still in utter disbelief.

"Where should we go?"

"Forlini's. It's my favourite," came the reply.

"Ah. One of the classic Manhattan restaurants. Let's go to Forlini's tomorrow night, shall we?"




Living with Katrina Ch. 03



"I'll see you tomorrow then. I have a request to make of you," he said. "Please wear the necklace. It would mean a lot to me if you did."

"I will. You deserve it."

The overload of words and emotion had Dr Hamilton staggering under its weight. He looked at her for a long while as his mind came to grips with what she was saying. In his mind, as she walked away, he seemed to see a golden halo about her being, as if she really were an angel - the angel of his memories.

* *

The latest episode of Glee was especially boring. Same stories, same clichés and same tunes over and over in a desperate attempt to woo the viewer. Jake might have actually fallen back to sleep had he been watching it in his place.

Luckily, he was kept wide awake by the silky lips of Emma suctioning around his engorged erection. After several minutes of erotic TV viewing, he decided to turn off the garish over-acting and concentrate on the eddies of pleasure that her expert tongue imparted.

"Finally," groaned Emma into his tool. "Now we can concentrate on the good stuff."

Her hand reached up and pushed him deeper into the couch while she continued bobbing back and forth on his erection, coating it liberally in her saliva. Suppressing her gag, she pushed the head deep inside her mouth until it hit the back of her throat. She looked up at his awestruck face as she devoured his entire throbbing pecker.

Her talented tongue made his toes curl as she massaged every inch of his turgid flesh inside her mouth. He resigned to throwing his head back and gazing up at the ceiling while her tongue continued its methodical treatment of his raging hard-on.

One of her hands came up to fondle his balls. She played along the crease, gently tugging on his sac. The dual treatment had him on the edge of a massive blowout, when she backed off abruptly. He looked down at her with a look of pleading for her to finish it.

"You don't get to cum just yet, Jake."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't had any yet. Now get on your knees and please me."

Going on instinct and Katrina's advice, he positioned his mouth against her wet lower lips. He saw her clit staring him in the face. Raising his head, he kissed it gently, causing Emma to squirm with pleasure. His tongue came out and gently lapped at it.

"You're quite the tongue man," Emma remarked, holding his head in place.

A little more skilfully than last time, Jake clamped his mouth around her sopping wet labia and slurped away at her fleshy caverns. His tongue made her spasm violently on the couch. Her mouth

opened as a scream of sexual ecstasy escaped her throat and reverberated around the room.

"Ooh. That is spectacular. Don't you dare stop, or I will make sure you never cum ever again."

"Yes ma'am," he said, before diving back into her wet, inviting folds. She squealed with abandon as he took her clit between his teeth and used the tip of his tongue to lap against it.

"Where did you learn to do that? Why am I even asking?" she groaned as her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure.

"Instinct," he mumbled into her pussy. And a slew of advice from Katrina on how to do this right. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing here.

Emma wrapped her legs around his head and clamped it in place. Her thighs had him in a vice and forced his tongue deeper inside her. He kept licking, causing her slick flesh to rub all over his face.

Her liquids frothed, bubbled and boiled in her needy sex, desperate for an explosive release. Colours flashed in front of her eyes as she teetered hopelessly on the brink of a thunderous climax that would take her to places she had not dreamt of.  

Abruptly, his tongue slipped back inside his mouth and he released her clit from the confines of his teeth. She held him by his hair and glared down at him.

"What did I tell you about stopping on me?"

Katrina: "It's okay to be cheeky. Get your own from time to time."

"If I don't get to cum, neither do you."

She looked down curiously at her usually meek and mild-mannered colleague. Something was definitely different about him this time.

"Fine then," she said coquettishly. "You sit in the recliner and I'll ride you."

Not believing what he had just said, Jake got up and sank into the plush recliner. His erection stood out like a mighty tower. Emma approached him slowly, like a panther circling its prey. Her lusty eyes were interminably locked onto his pulsing meat.

She threw one leg on either side of him and turned around so he was looking at her back. Gently, she sank down on his member, slowly impaling herself on the hardness. Her mouth contorted in a mask of pleasure as he filled her up, stretching her walls.

Every nerve ending in her body had a current of ecstasy coursing through it. Her body writhed and shuddered and eventually passed into a fugue of sensory overload. She was fighting a losing battle not to black out to the volcanic pleasure about to erupt within her.

It simmered right under the surface, aching for violent release as she began slipping out of the realm of consciousness slowly towards the black abyss of pleasure. Her vision grew dimmer as the rampaging organ inside her thrust relentlessly against her G-spot, spurring her to greater heights of carnal ecstasy.

She violently plunged herself down, pushing the engorged tool deeper inside her as the darkness rushed closer with the promise of a shattering orgasm to engulf her senses in an ocean of bliss unmatched by any other.

In a mindblowing climax that shook her to her very core, she finally surrendered herself to the wave of blackness. Her orgasm hit her like a tsunami, washing over her being in the heated wave of pure lust.

"That was..." she lost her words and kept panting.

Sinking back onto Jake's shrivelling member, she lay with her back against him. Skin against skin, sweaty pores exuding the aroma of an overdose of the endorphins and pheromones still coursing through their bodies as they settled back down to reality.

Emma slid off his body and said, "I think I'm going to take a shower."

She walked off to the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower. The door remained suggestively ajar. Jake turned on the TV and resumed watching Glee, oblivious.

* *

Dr Hamilton was beyond stunned. He had come to pick Katrina up at a decent evening hour and was simply blown away by the figure that opened the door for him. He stood there, his eyes refusing to believe the being in front of him. For a couple of seconds, he had lost all sentience in the face of the radiant splendour at the door.

Katrina was wearing a shimmering turquoise dress, which went halfway down to her knees. Her hair was smoothed back behind her head and came down in flowing tresses behind her shoulders. Her dress clung onto her body tenaciously, accentuating all her curves.

It took Dr Hamilton a long time to find words in his mouth. None of them came close to doing justice to the embodiment of womanliness unfurled before him. She smiled at his flabbergasted look for a few of his rapid heartbeats before stepping outside.

Words continued to elude him as they made their way to Forlini's. Many things have changed in New York over the years. Fortunately, Forlini's is not among them. It is a culinary Renaissance, frozen in time since the mid 40s. Everything about it - the ambiance, the menu, the old-time waiters, reminds the discerning patron of an age when extravagant grandeur resided within those walls.

He was still in silent awe as the host escorted them to their table. It was removed from the main floor, on an elevated dais and hidden by a circular curtain.

"Wow... they seem to give you special preference here," Kat chuckled.

"They should," he replied. "I am one of their oldest clients. In both senses of the term."

They shared a light laugh. Her new necklace glittered in the light. The topaz reflected and refracted flecks of light. Her laugh, her doe eyes and those rosy lips....

He had to forcibly shake himself out of the trance he found himself slipping into. His mind tried to drag him away from the present. The rosy past seemed inviting, willing him to lose himself in the rosy allure it held.

"No!" he said in his mind. "I'm here with Katrina. Not...."

His mind tried to finish the sentence, but his heart could not bear it. It was suspended in his subconscious, like an icy sword of Damocles, hanging high above his heart. A mistake would bring it crashing down, embedding it deep in an old wound which had never really healed.

"Is something wrong?" inquired Katrina, noticing his distracted demeanour.

"It's nothing, Gloria."

It took the two of them a long while to process the sentence. Dr Hamilton turned crimson and looked down in shame. If he had one wish, it would be for the ground to open up right there and let him sink into it. His self-esteem had crashed below rock bottom.

Katrina tried her best to stay composed. Her ears were ringing with the last sentence. It played itself in an endless loop in her head. The truth of her situation became unerringly clear to her. The realization caused an involuntary tremor through her body.

The date had just spun out badly.

"I mean.. It's just that... I...." he fumbled for some time in the vain hope that the damage could be repaired.

Finally the only two coherent words to come out of his mouth were, "I'm sorry."

She tried to look him in the eye, but he would not lift his head. He put his thoughts together and started speaking in a low tone.

"This is where we came for our first anniversary dinner all those years ago. You... wearing the necklace, you look exactly like her. Your face, your eyes, every part of you reminds me of what I lost too soon. It was so selfish of me bringing you here to relive my past. I should drop you home now."

Then Kat spoke, turning his world upside down.

"It's all right."

He looked up, mystified. She went on.

"I feel proud that I could remind you of the one true love of your life," she said, swallowing the bitter after taste of rejection. "You can call me Gloria."

Before he could muster up a reply, she placed a finger to his lips.

"You need this. You love Gloria. For one night let me be her," her tone was shaking as she said it. "For one night, let me be loved."

They stared into each other's eyes, neither of them daring to blink, lest the perfect illusion fall apart. Slowly, his arm reached over the table and held her hand.

"Will you dance with me, Gloria?"

* *

The car drew up to Dr Hamilton's modest home late in the night. His face was flushed from the glories of the night. They had drunk and danced with abandon. He looked and felt half his age and smiled for the first time in days.

"Gloria" felt like a queen. He treated her like a crystal sculpture, which might crack at the hint of force. Her mind was in an airy place as her consciousness kept lurking in the background, reminding her she was living a lie.

But "Gloria" didn't care. This lie was so much better than the truth of her life.

"Gloria, why don't you come inside," he said, bowing outside the door.

She stepped into his place. The living room was immaculately clean. His books neatly filled two large cases of shelves. Voltaire, Rousseau, Goethe and more lined the walls. Large dusty volumes of authors that few understood back looked at her.

"Why tarry here?" spoke a velvet baritone behind her. "Let us make our way upstairs."

An arm came around her body and pulled her back into a chest. She felt a heavy breathing against her ear as tender lips kissed her neck, sending shivers down her body. "Gloria" gasped as the hand clasped itself around her breast.

In a trance, they glided up the stairs to his large, plush bed. All the while, he whispered beautiful phrases from his favourite texts into her ear. He compared her beauty to the pure white Cygnus, to the mythical Persephone and even the radiant Noor Jahan.

She lay on her back, ready to surrender herself to his sensuality. She was unaware of the clothes being easily stripped off her body. Her eyes closed and her body responded instinctively to the caresses on her skin. The necklace stayed on as his roving hands played with her soft mounds. Dr Hamilton knew exactly where to touch her, exactly how to touch her.

Unable to keep her eyes shut any longer, she looked down at his face. It nestled itself between her ample breasts, kissing at the tit flesh surrounding him. Her eyes roamed to the ceiling and walls. It was a throwback to the 70s. Designer wall-paper, an ornate mantelpiece with an intricately carved chest and mahogany top. The portraits, the plaques were all reminiscent of an era gone by. Even in her aroused haze, she realized where she was.

This room had not changed in three decades. It was a shrine to the late Gloria Hamilton. It was meticulously clean - a static room through decades of history.

It offered a peek into the mind of a man who had lost too much to be whole again.

Her sad eyes turned back to the tongue, which now traced delicious circles around her areola. She was doing the right thing, giving him one night of memories.

Even if they were not with Katrina.

His mouth dipped lower, keeping his tongue in contact with her skin. His lips planted themselves at various points all around her toned stomach. His dexterous tongue tickled her, causing her to utter tiny squeals of pleasure.

Finally, his tongue reached her wet orifice. She gasped as she felt his lips on her inflamed labia. They pulled at the soft folds of skin, gently teasing her. His hands had begun to draw lazy figures on her inner thigh. Her mind was shrouded in a heavy mist of sensuality.

He brought his fingers to her crevice and parted her sopping wet lips. Taking a few moments to gaze at her fleshy cavern, he probed the damp walls with his tongue. The first push sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. She jerked, but he held onto her hips, keeping the moist opening in front of his face.

His tongue went to work earnestly. He pushed it deep inside her, twisting and turning it. Electricity sparked between her legs and sensuous torrents of pleasure swept over her. Her vision went hazy as his tongue continued pleasing her.

Almost simultaneously, he inserted two fingers deep inside her and sucked her clit into his mouth. His fingers began to move back and forth, rubbing against her G-spot. The fingers made her gasp with arousal while his tongue relentlessly probed her clit. Soon, she was writhing and her face was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Her moans of delight spurred him on. The pace of his fingers increased and his teeth lightly nipped at her clit. She bit her lip to stifle a scream in her throat. Her mind was only barely aware of her surroundings, saturated with the intense sensation gripping her body like a vice.

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, swamping her senses. The world went out of focus for some time as she saw a psychedelic blur of colour in front of her eyes. Her chest heaved and sweat dripped off her eye onto the bed. Her senses slowly readjusted to the present. Without warning, she felt two strong hands on her breasts.

They kneaded her mounds heartily. One hand took her nipple between her fingers and began tweaking it. The sensations drove her wild as she arched her back, pushing it into his hand. The other hand stroked the region around her nipple, tracing the outline of her areola. The hands soon exchanged roles imparting a similar ecstasy to the other nipple.

She was barely used to his hands when she felt a warm wetness around her nipple. His lips had clamped over it. The sudden change caused her to gasp out loud. He gently grazed his teeth over the sensitive bud. The more he repeated the motion with her teeth, the more moans he elicited from inside "Gloria".

"Gloria, my love. It has been too long."

Dr Hamilton pulled himself up to her. His kindly eyes gazed into hers and his throbbing tool touched her wet nether lips. He was hard without any pills, a first in many years. The head teased her opening, rubbing the length of her slit.

Their eyes remained locked the whole time. Slowly, he pushed his shaft inside her. It pulsed inside her. He pushed it in even more. Her eyes closed and she concentrated on the sexual fire ablaze within her.

He moved back until only the head of his cock remained inside her. In one thrust, he plunged his whole prick inside her. The head pushed against her wall. They soon settled into a rhythm of him coming out slowly before thrusting back in.

"Where did you go, Gloria?" he said, unable to hold back the emotion in his voice. "I have you missed you so much."

The thrusts grew in power. He was drilling inside her, causing her to let out a small yelp on every stroke. They stretched her leaking orifice and drowned her in an ocean of pleasure. She could sense herself being swept away.

A sharp grunt brought her back to reality. The turgid erection was pistoning in and out of her. There was no more restraint as she grabbed him and pushed herself onto his erection. Their pelvises slammed together in an almighty sonata of lust.

Higher and higher they rose, each octave taking her to a new height of pleasure. Her breasts heaved with every crest as he built a frenetic pace of plunging his spear into new depths. She screamed and it echoed. Her eyes bore a look of unbridled lust.

"Give it to me," she moaned. "Give me everything!"

Dr Hamilton obliged. His lips were within inches of hers and he locked her in a fiery kiss. His languid strokes remained uninterrupted even as his tongue swirled inside her mouth, playing with her tonsils and tickling her palate.

She felt a climax approaching. Every fibre in her body was taut and her brain had gone numb with anticipation. The outside world paled into insignificance. All she could see was a dark void of untold pleasure welcoming her.

She took a step towards it, the stirring inside her reaching fever pitch. The hammering of a hard organ against her in a fast staccato pace. The darkness closed in on her, willing her give in to it. She did.

The sheer impact of her orgasm forced her back to consciousness. It erupted inside her, driving all the air from her lungs. Her body had transcended pleasure and had reached a state of sexual nirvana. She closed her eyes, trying to record the feeling for posterity.

She heard a soft voice beside her, "Thank you, Gloria. Thank you."

Her sexual bliss lasted until the drive back to her apartment. Other tenants looked curiously at her stare of silly happiness.

It was only when she stepped inside her apartment that the beautiful delusion broke. She stared at the empty loneliness of the walls and the realization of what her entire night was about hit her like a punch in the chest.

Still dressed like Gloria Hamilton, Katrina fell to the floor and the floodgate of tears broke.

* *

Katrina had no idea how long she lay curled up on the floor crying. It seemed like an eternity before she felt herself being raised to her feet. Through her blurry vision, she could vaguely make out Jake.

Instinctively, she buried her face in his chest. Tears stained his shirt as she continued sobbing. He patted her back and ran his fingers through her hair. She loved it when he did that. Her voice came up intermittently through her sobbing as she told him all about her evening.

"It's okay," he said, kissing her hair. "You did a good thing."

"I know. Then why do I feel like shit?"

Jake took a deep breath. He knew the answer to that. Even she knew it in her subconscious mind. It would be a hard truth to bring up.

A part of him feared the backlash it could bring, but the haunting vision of her crying on the cold floor flashed in his mind. He had to do whatever it took to make sure that would healed. His friend was in pain. She needed him right now.




Living with Katrina Ch. 03



He knew the reason right from the outset. It took him a lot of willpower to say it. Consequences were not important any more.

"Kat," he said, looking straight into her teary eyes. "It was more than just a date for you as well."

"What do you mean?"

"You lost your mother when you were young, right?" he began, cautiously. "You tell me all the time how your father missed her. How he lost himself grieving for her. He never gave you the love he should have. In your words, he was your most distant relative."

"What does that have to do with..."she started before realization struck her hard. "No!"

"Yes," insisted Jake, holding her sides, "You may have been a surrogate for his wife, but even more than that, he was a surrogate for your dad."

Katrina disengaged herself and slapped him right across his face. The force made him take a step back. Covering his cheek against the next assault, he looked at her enraged face.

"I did not go out with my Dad and I sure as hell didn't just fuck him."

"I know you didn't," he said quickly. "It isn't about the sex. He gave you love, affection and attention... the way your father never quite did. All those empty evenings where he would be in his room with a picture of your mother and you would be all alone. A little part of you wants those memories remade."

"Why are you saying this to me?" she wailed.

"Because I don't want to see you on the floor crying any more," said Jake. "You deserve better than seeking the affection your dad never gave you from other men."

Kat lunged at him, but he engulfed her in a hug. She struggled, but he held on steadfastly.

"It's time to make peace with your dad. You haven't spoken to him once since coming to New York. You have to bury that hatchet, it's hurting you too much."

She forced herself out of his embrace. Her eyes had a look of distant fury and she raised an accusing finger towards him.

"Don't you dare try to pop-psych me, you cunt," she screamed, seething. "You think you know me, but you don't know shit!"

"Kat. Listen to me."

"No! I don't have to listen to you any longer."

She stormed to her room and slammed the door shut. Jake sighed as he heard the tempest exploding against the room. He went back to his room, hoping he had not damaged their friendship too much.

Jake did not get much sleep. He got up early the next morning. Kat's bedroom door was ajar. The room was in the mess he expected. Thankfully, she had not broken anything this time. In the centre of the room was a curious portrait. It was similar to the stick figure drawings of five year olds. It was a simple father and daughter in a green park, made with childish innocence, but something was different.

Normally the two figures are holding hands. Here they were at opposite ends of the canvas. There were no smiles either, just blank faces. That picture said more than a thousand words.

Jake walked to the balcony and saw a forlorn figure sitting on the ledge gazing at the glittering cityscape around them. Dawn was imminent. He sat down beside her, putting his hand around her shoulder.

"Saw the painting?" came the wistful voice.

"Yes I did."

"That silly drawing which little girls make of themselves and their daddies in parks. Green grass, blue sky and terribly drawn smiles. I never got to make that drawing. I always wanted to."

She looked at him, rivulets of dried tears marking her cheeks.

"I don't want to be alone, Jake," she whimpered. "I don't want to hate him any more."

He engulfed her in a tight hug, taking the rest of her tears on his shirt.

"So, road trip to Trenton?"

"Don't you have work?" she said.

"I just finished two weeks of double shifts. I think I can take a day off," he said, adding with a sly smirk, "Besides, my boss has ridden me enough for now."

Even through her tears, Kat broke into a smile at the last sentence.

When Katrina's father saw her for the first time the next day, he could not take his eyes off her. The guilt of being an absent father had left a gaping void in him. He had wanted to get in touch with her several times, but never could muster up the courage to make the call. They hugged in an embrace, with a warmth that they had not known between them, and then they talked.

And talked. And talked.

It would be foolish to expect that a chasm years in the making could be bridged in one day. But at least the people on either side had begun the bridging process. It would take many more words and many more trips.

But they made the start.

They reached their apartment late at night. Jake was about to turn in, when Katrina hugged him from behind.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for today."

Releasing her grip, she turned him around. Looking him in the eye, she gently held his hands.

"Your turn now."

"What?" said Jake, puzzled.

"I made peace with my family. It's your turn now."

He looked down at the floor. Somewhere in his mind, he had sensed this coming.

"Katrina," he began. "It's different for me and you know it."

"I know. It needs a stronger person to do it. Which is why you are going to."

"Baltimore is a little far for a quick trip," he chuckled, trying in vain to circumvent her intentions.

"Which is why you have a phone," she said in a sarcastic tone. "Now call up your sister."

"Please don't make me go through with this."

"You made me get over my issues, now I want to return the favor," she said, biting her lip. "I owe you that much."

"No," he said flatly, "I'm sorry. I can't."

Jake was not willing to go to that part of his mind. The mere thought of talking to his sister released a torrent of memories he had buried deep down.

Katrina persisted, "You know what happened back then was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"I know that," said Jake, willing himself to believe his words, "but...."

But what?" she asked, bringing up a palm to caress his cheek, "What?"

"I'm scared."

There. He said it. There was no more hiding.

"You have been scared for too long," she said. "Suffered too much. It's time to let that go."

He averted his gaze, so she held his face firmly in her hands and turned it back towards her. Cradling his head tenderly, she spoke up.

"She is your only living relative," said Katrina softly. "Don't do this to yourself."

Against every bit of reason in him, and every fear he'd ever thought he'd had, Jake made the call. Several rings went by as the person on the other end contemplated whether to pick up the call or not. Finally there was an answer.

"Jake?"

"Hello. Brittany? How are you?"

"Jake. Why did you call?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. It's been a long time."

"Huh?" she seemed surprised.

"A guy needs a reason to talk to his big sister?"

"Jake. I don't know what you're playing at here. Do you have something to say?"

"Yes I do," he said firmly, looking at Katrina in the eye. She urged him on. "You have held this grudge against me for twenty five years. Twenty five years. I was only eight years old and I made a mistake. Why can't you move past it?"

Silence on the other end as Brittany Gallagher seemed too stunned to say anything. The tone that followed was shaking with anger.

"How dare you say that? What you did deserves a fucking lifetime of hatred! I will NEVER EVER forgive you. Mark my fucking words. I have no brother."

The depth of anger in the words rendered him speechless. She went on in a cold voice.

"Now if you will excuse me, I no longer have time to waste. There is a multi million dollar deal I need to sign. In case I need you to do the accounting for my company, I will have my secretary call you up. Don't contact me again."

The line went dead. Jake looked up at the forlorn face of his roommate.

"Can't win them all."

* *

Jake looked at The New York Times next day and read.

RENOWNED CRITIC DEAD

The body of well-known art critic Dr Dean Hamilton was found in his private study last night. The cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his temple. A suicide note was found in which he said that he finally had everything he wanted from life and saw no point in prolonging it any further. He also professed his undying love for his late wife.

Shortly before dying, he did some very curious things. He recanted a particularly scathing review he had written a few weeks earlier on the gallery opening of an obscure artist. Then he emptied all his savings accounts and purchased a landscape titled "Orchard View" for a price far exceeding anything the artist's work had previously attained. In his last act as Chair of the Art Department at Hofstra University, he requested that the painting be hung in the main gallery as a "contemporary classic". This has stirred some interest in the other works of the artist in question, who coincidentally turns out to be the one from the recanted review.

Dr Hamilton left no surviving relatives. Funeral arrangements are presently incomplete. Since he is survived by no heirs, the eccentric spending of his money in his last hours is expected to go unchallenged.



Living with Katrina Ch. 04



You know the drill- vote, comment and use the private feedback option.

Thanks to my copy editor KatieTay, my new plot editor Cambria Rose and my beta reader SamanthaYvonne.

Sleep was hard to come by for Jake. He was hungry. Really hungry. The war between his heavy-lidded eyes and his growling stomach went on. His stomach won eventually. Grumbling, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and opened the door to the kitchen.

Staggering through the doorway, he spied the fridge. Inside the freezer lay his gastronomic salvation, a tub of ice cream. The full moon shone in through the large window, lighting a large patch on the floor. He squinted, blocking out the light and made his way to the freezer. Opening it, he immediately spotted the half empty tub.

Curiously enough, there was another object beside it. A large white popsicle. Even through his narrowly opened eyes, he could not recognize it to be of any flavour he knew. He reached inside and pulled it out.

It was cold and completely white. Lines of water melted off the sides and dripped to the floor. He observed it minutely in front of his face before letting the tip of his tongue graze along the edge. He tasted water, with the faintest hint of something else.

Intrigued, he let his tongue wrap around the ice, trying to discern what the faint flavour was. The chill partially numbed his taste buds, but he licked it earnestly.

By now his hunger was secondary to finding out what this mysterious popsicle was made of. He sucked it into his mouth, letting his tongue slurp around the circumference. All he tasted was ice, and again a hint of another taste.

The more time his tongue spent on the alien stick of ice, the more he wanted to know about it. His thoughts were interrupted by a door opening. The sleepy figure of Katrina crept into the room. She yawned wide and shook her hair.

"Hey, roomie," she said in a sleepy voice.

Her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw him with the stick of ice in his mouth. Sleep disappeared as she goggled at him.

"What are you doing, Jake?" she said warily.

"Midnight snack," he mumbled around the ice. "What flavour is it?"

Katrina took a long pause to digest the sentence. Then she burst out laughing. Jake took the ice out of his mouth, staring at her, as she doubled up in a fit of giggles.

"What?" he asked, genuinely nonplussed.

"Oh my," she said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. "This is one for the books."

Before she could make any more sense, she started laughing hysterically again. Clutching her stomach, she held the wall for support.

"That's my ice dildo."

"Ice dildo?" he repeated slowly while the implications registered. "God! You mean you put this thing in your...?"

"Yup. He's my new friend. We had a happy encounter a few hours back," she said, struggling not to laugh again.

Jake dropped the ice, his face masked in revulsion. His lips twisted in a look of disgust and he involuntarily cringed.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said in a weak voice.

"You know," started Katrina in a playful tone. "If you wanted to taste me that badly, you didn't have to suck my dildo. You could have had your taste right from the source. All you had to do was say it."

Jake somehow scampered off in the direction of the sink. Puking and then washing his mouth out, then he would think about having the real ice cream to get rid of the taste. Why did he have to be so curious?

She stayed in the kitchen. The pale moonlight lit up half her face. It showed her eyes shimmering with a trace of moisture.

"Yes Jake," she repeated softly, pursing her lips. "All you have to do is say it. Just say it."

A drop flicked off her eyelash onto the floor. She didn't know what she wanted Jake to say, but she wanted him to say it.





Living with Katrina Ch. 04



Katrina leaned against the door, her fingers frantically playing with her drenched lower lips. The unbridled lust through her forbidden vantage point gave her hand a mind of its own.

Now Jake was on his back and Emma was planting deep kisses all over his face and neck. Her ruby red lips traced a path down his torso and covered his stomach with a layer of her saliva. Jake closed his eyes.

Emma reached his abdomen and planted a soft kiss on the head of his cock. Her lips pressed against the head. Pulling back, she let her tongue trace a circle around the crown. One hand held the erection firmly in her direction and her mouth went to work.

"Jake. I want to do that to you. I know I can you make you love it, even if I can't make you love me. Let me do that to you. Just once."

Emma's head bobbed up and down. It disappeared between her legs only to reappear again. Her eyes had look of decadent delight and she kept her gaze fixed on him. She varied her speed and intensity, giving him highest levels of pleasure.

After several minutes, Katrina saw her raise her face from his groin. His proud erection pointed at the ceiling. Emma moved forward, straddling his hips. She planted her wet lower lips onto his throbbing member, impaling herself.

Katrina gasped inwardly as Emma started moving to a steady beat on his erection. Her body rocked and her face contorted in an expression of sexual bliss.

It took some time for her to realize that her fingers were thrusting in and out of her in the same rhythm as Emma's movements. Stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, her actions mirrored the sex behind the door.

"That should be me, Jake. Me and only me. No one else is good enough for you, Jake."

Her frantic fingering reached fever pitch and soon she could sense a climax building. She put her other hand over her mouth to stifle the sound and leant against the wall as a gush flowed forth from between her legs.

The world spun back into a focus after a long moment. She lifted herself up from the wall and made her way back to her room. Shame exuded from every pore in her body. Her mind finally had the answer she craved.

It was not what Emma had that drew Jake to her, but what she had that repelled Jake. Her mind was a dysfunctional cesspool. So warped that it made her repulsive to him. Despicable.

And she couldn't really blame him. After all, she had just crossed a line no roommate should ever cross. The first time he had ever had a girl over, and she had played the part of a disgusting voyeur.

Flipping open her phone, she made a call. A few rings later, a lazy drawl answered.

"Trent. Listen. Don't make a big deal out of what I'm going to say next. I want to go over to your place and have sex. No strings attached. Game?"

No sane New Yorker turns down such a call.

Taking one last peek at Emma, Katrina left.





Living with Katrina Ch. 05



Can't believe I made it to 5 chapters! Here is the fifth. Hope you like it even more than you did the previous ones. Vote and comment to let me know what you think.

Thanks to my copy-editor KatieTay, my plot editor CambriaRose and a special vote of thanks to PennLady for helping me with this chapter.

DISCLAIMER- This chapter contains episodes of drug use and drug induced hallucinations. If you do not like such content, do not read further.

"A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea."

-Honore de Balzac





Living with Katrina Ch. 05



"What happened?"

"See for yourself, Jake," and he hung up.





Living with Katrina Ch. 06



Sorry for the delay guys. I was writing something for the Halloween Contest. Check it out if you want. Here is chapter 6! As always, your comments make my day, so do drop them on your way out.

Thanks to my dedicated editor CambriaRose.

"The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable."

-James A. Garfield





Living with Katrina Ch. 06



"Cleveland is out of my jurisdiction. Why would it be of any use to me?"

"There is a connection to New York as well, which puts it squarely in your backyard. You can claim priority. Now, how would you feel if the SEC were to 'anonymously' receive a parcel with that evidence?"

"It would be nice," drawled David lazily. "But is it worth more than your friend?"

"You are investigating my friend for a few hundred thousand dollars of missing money. I am offering you the chance to take down a four hundred million dollar fund. You do the math."

There was another pause.

"Besides, you don't have to take them down today. We could use their services to invest some money under an alias and sell the shares just before you bring down the hammer on them. Win-win for everybody."

"I see," said David. "Now, what was your friend's name again?"

Balthazar Wolff could not help smiling. Being a fixer was all about using your connections to kill two birds with one stone.





Living with Katrina Ch. 07



Chapter 7 now and trying to sort out the thoughts in my head. Keep up the encouraging feedback and votes. It's why I write.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same."

Thanks to my editors DevilsRapture and SlySubmissive.





Living with Katrina Ch. 07



"That's right," thought Kat, an uncomfortable heat building inside her. The thoughts of what she wanted to do with her tongue were overpowering. It would take a small eternity. Jake would be layered with saliva by the time she was done.

My breasts came to his face. He gently bit down on the nipple, letting his tongue rub over it while he held it between his teeth. I pressed down, pushing my tit into his face and my hard nipple into his mouth. He switched to the other one before his face was snuggled in my cleavage.

"Cleavage," thought Katrina, condescendingly. "That isn't cleavage. I have cleavage and Jake would prefer sticking his face in mine more than that sorry excuse for a bosom you have."

Try as she might, she couldn't deny the jealousy she felt towards this virtual seductress.

I kissed his lips and then planted many more kisses over his face and neck. I trailed down the side of his neck, leaving many more kisses. His chest was a delightful exploration. My lips and tongue became intimate with every contour in his torso. I paid special attention to his nipples before driving downwards towards the main event.

Katrina closed her eyes, assaulted by the vision of her lips pressing against Jake's body, covering every inch of him with sweet kisses. The uncomfortable heat inside her became even stronger and she started sweating.

Now, I had his best part at my disposal. I could give it my undivided attention. Enough waiting, I bent down and took his entire length in my mouth. He groaned in slurs, making me wet at the prospect of what lay ahead. His cock felt so good in my mouth, and I massaged him with the flat of my tongue.

He squirmed and his drunken sounds of pleasure became louder. I bobbed on his length, making sure to suction his head properly. He pushed off the bed, putting more of himself into my mouth with every passing thrust.

Katrina rolled her eyes inwardly. She could do so much more. She wanted to do so much more. For a while, the emotional conversation on the ledge was forgotten in a whirl of carnal fantasies. She was tremendously aroused now, vivid images of Jake and her floating in her mind. The jealousy grew in sync with her arousal.

He was hard and I needed to feel that hardness where it would really feel good. Without a second thought, I climbed on top of him. Straddling Jake, I impaled myself on his erection. It felt so good and filled me up. It did better than fill me up, it stretched my walls with its width.

I lost control there. Throwing all caution to the wind, I began to fuck myself vigorously. It felt surreal, in a great way. Every stroke pushed him inside me. Soon, I was fucking him at a furious pace.

This was too much. Katrina saw a blinding flare of colours flash before her eyes. It wasn't an orgasm, but a precursor. She was that turned on just by reading about her friend and her over-active mind visualizing it.

I'm a screamer, but this I time I even outdid myself. The intensity of the climax was ridiculous and left me screaming so loud, my voice has been hoarse since. I am still shaking from the memory of the tidal wave of pleasure that drowned me.

This was it. Katrina could not bear it any longer. She got up from her chair, her thong dripping beneath her pants. Her pussy ached for some release, which her fingers would impart at the earliest opportunity. Her mind was burning with unspeakable thoughts of what she wanted to do to her roommate and an equally intense envy at someone who had already done it.

Finally, I would like to say that if this was what Jake could do while inebriated, I must say that girl who gets to fuck him while he is sober is the luckiest girl in Manhattan.

Rating- 10/10 (I'd give him more next time. Jake, if you're reading this, call me ;))

That's all the juicy stuff for today. Love all of you.

Jen

Jake felt faint, all the blood having drained off his face. He stood up, but almost fell over with dizziness. His hand found the table for support.

"Wha.. Why..." he mumbled hopelessly, not making any sense.

"Jake," said Katrina from his side, waving her hand in front of him. "Hello..?"

He looked at her with a look of every possible unwanted emotion combined.

"What do I do now?" he croaked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

"Go about your life as normal," came the simple reply.

"With my sex life on the internet?"

"Stop being a wuss," she reprimanded. "You aren't the only Jake in Manhattan. Besides, this is something to be proud of. Any other guy would already be fumbling with his phone right now."

"What if someone at my work finds out?" he said, his tone shaking. "What if someone in this building finds out? What if its that religious nut, Mr Sandoval?"

"Wow," she said, with disbelief. "You're afraid people will find out you got picked up by a girl in a bar and.." she paused to insert a dramatic gasp. "... had SEX!"

"It isn't that simple," he went on.

"You have her number on her card," she said with some degree of exasperation. "Call her up and tell her to remove this post if it bothers you that much."

"I can't call her up."

"Jake. Honey. You slept with her, you didn't kill her dog. You can talk to her."

"I... I can't," he said, holding out the card. "Do it for me, please."

"Oh all right," she groaned, snatching the card. "You just let your hair down and enjoy your Sunday. You look like you need to get laid. Oh wait, you already did."

She laughed at his transformation to scarlet and went into her room. Slamming the door shut, she wrestled her pants off at record speed. Her damp sex needed urgent attention. She had used all her reserve strength in keeping a straight face this long.

Pulling her thong to one side, she thrust her fingers into herself and pushed them in and out with no small force. Her thumb went wild on her clit, making her want to shriek out Jake's name and have it resonate throughout the building. She bucked and thrashed against her own hand, arching her hips off the bed and plunging her fingers in even deeper.

The pads of her fingers brushed against her G-spot, igniting her senses. He clenched her jaw and forced her fingers in and out of her drenched orifice, sending her body closer to a massive orgasm. There was not a hint of restraint.

Gritting her teeth, she ground out an electric orgasm against her finger. Colours floated in her field of vision as she descended from the clouds back down to Earth. Her heavy breathing went on for some time.

Katrina got off the bed and put her pants back on. Her date wasn't great either. Jim finally seemed to open up a bit before he got a call from his wife. One of them. She had apparently found out about the other one.

Shaking the post orgasmic dizziness off, she walked to the far side of her room where her latest portrait was under a cover. It was tentatively titled "Lovestruck" and was for her larger collection on her life. It was private, for her to keep.

She pulled off the cover and admired it. It was a portrait of Jake from the shoulders up. His face was turned towards the viewer. She had taken great pains to make it exactly as she wanted. Every feature on his face was painstakingly drawn, taking hours at a time and endless repeats before her heart was happy.

"Who was I kidding?" she said, her eyes misting up. "I can never hide the way I feel about you. It can't be hidden."





Living with Katrina Ch. 08



Chapter 8 now. Sorry for the huge delay, but my real life work caught up with me in a bad way with my endsems. Keep the comments and feedback going. It makes me want to write.

Thanks to all my fans who keep me going and to my editor NaokoSmith.

DISCLAIMER -- This chapter contains quite a few taboos. There is a "not flattering" portrayal of Christian Fundamentalists. There is also some sadism in this chapter.

"Stop looking for light at the end of the tunnel. Find God in the darkness."





Living with Katrina Ch. 08



"I would have gone in to collect you, but there seemed to be a party in the way," said Jake, holding the car door open for her.

"You get used to those cokeheads in the corridors after a while," she said, kissing Jake on the cheek. "They're really nice guys when they're not high."

"I'll take your word for it. Now, shall we?"

She got into the car. Jake drove at a moderate speed, looking ahead at the road even as he chatted along the way.

"So what does an art restorer do, exactly?"

"Basically, we get these really old paintings that would crumble if they came in contact with air. I'm talking decades or even centuries old here," Sam said. "I get to sort of 'fill in' the parts that are faded and make the painting able to withstand being exposed to air. More chemistry than art, really."

"That sounds cool."

"Actually it is. Just the other week we got a rare Mondrian from some Nazi ruins. It was probably looted during the Second World War and has been in a dingy cellar ever since. Can you imagine the history associated with it?"

Jake was clearly interested.

"So anyway, I got the job of restoring it," she went on. "Boy, it was a tough one. In some places the colour was so faded, I had to use infrared to figure out what chemicals were used and then recreate that exact dye. It was incredibly gratifying to finish."

She grinned broadly, obviously pleased with her efforts.

"So, can I see it? When does it go up?"

"Well," she considered. "They are going to have the European Retrospective here next week. Several of the rarest paintings will only be on display for that night before they go under the hammer. But that's way too exclusive. I'd be lucky to get a pass for myself, let alone an extra."

"See what you can do," said Jake, parking in front of Alfredo's.

"You like Italian food? No wonder Katrina wants you so badly," Samantha said. "Oops, did I say that out loud?"

"Yes," said Jake, averting eye contact. "I know what you mean, but it's way too complicated right now."

"It's only as complicated as you make it, hun."





Living with Katrina Ch. 08



He pounded her against the wall and emptied himself inside her. She used her legs to pull Jared towards herself, milking him dry. Spasmodic jerks shook her body, signalling her own orgasm searing through her. She cried and her cum gushed out around his cock and dripped down their legs.

Spent from his exertions, Jared somehow made it to the bed before they collapsed in a sweaty tangle of bodies. For a long while, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. They reeked of sex. Katrina was on a fluffy cloud of bliss, unwillingly coming back to the present.

Jared rose from the bed and went to his neatly folded clothes. He retrieved something which he held behind him. He walked closer to the unsuspecting Katrina before he resumed pontificating.

"This euphoric feeling of sex," he explained. "This is the cause of all evil."

She heard him, but wasn't listening. The words only gradually permeated her subconscious. By then it was too late. In a trice, he held her hand and curled it behind her back painfully. He had closed the small door to the vestibule so that no sounds would be heard outside.

"Good men and women lose their minds over it. The temptation makes us weak."

His voice seemed strangely separated from him. His tone was rigid. Katrina squealed in pain.

"Ten years ago, I was the one who had single-handedly elevated the position of my firm in my region to the top selling pharma company, but who became the Global Head of Sales? Donna Styles. It was a deliberate smack right across my face after all that I had done for that bunch of pricks."

Katrina was afraid now, but her mouth was muffled by the pillow. Jared moved his hand to push her head down, nearly suffocating her.

"And why did Donna get the promotion? She had been fucking the CEO all year long, of course. All those conventions and business trips were just a cover so they could shack up in every fucking hotel room all the way from here to the fucking West Coast."

A cloud of fear built within Katrina. She felt a leathery tip graze across her shoulder blades and down her spine. It deliberately went over the same path again. His manic tirade went on.

"There I was, the laughing stock of my entire region. I had no choice but to jump into the water that day. I wanted to end it all, but those blasted do-gooders had to save me," Jared continued. "Then, I realized what was the folly of the world, the source of all evil and the reason I was screwed over -- sex."

The end of that sentence coincided with a loud smack of leather striking skin. Jared had swung his belt over his own shoulders and left a mark diagonally from his left shoulder blade to his lower back. Katrina felt a shiver go down her spine even though it was Jared in pain.

"The only way I can heal is if I feel the pain for the sin I committed. The next time I am tempted by a whore, I will remember this pain."

The sentence was punctuated by four more lashes across his spine. He doubled over in pain, but his hand was steady in holding Katrina's nude form down by her neck.

"The immorality that rots our society stems from this act. People lose their minds over it. That is why we are all on the moral low ground in front of our Father, and He shall damn all of us to Hell when it is time for judgement."

The belt made a few more sickening splats with his lumbar region, before he finally stopped. He clenched his eyes shut and took heavy breaths through the fiery pain.

"This is how we heal, by suffering for our sins first. The curse of orgasm has to be met with the sting of pain to remind us of our sin."

Kat's eyes opened wide with horror as she felt the tip of the leather grazing over her skin once more. She struggled and writhed, but his grip on her neck rendered her largely immobile.

"I am one step closer to healing. It's your turn now."

Forcing her head into the pillow, he took a deep breath. He then raised his belt high over her bare back for the first time.

No one outside those four walls would hear her muffled screaming.





Living with Katrina Ch. 08



"This is Judy Lynch reporting from the Ritz-Carlton where a sensational story is unfolding. The renowned preacher Jared Wexler has been arrested on charges of aggravated assault and assault with intent to murder on a maid. This is a clip of him being led away by officers."

The channel smoothly cut to Jared struggling against the officers who restrained him. He had a manic expression and constantly mouthed in the direction of the camera.

"The maid is in critical condition and has been admitted to Mercy General. The cause behind the assault is yet unknown, but it appears his lawyers are looking to file an appeal on grounds of temporary insanity. We shall be joining the ADA for more updates on the story as it unfolds.

Another interesting fact is that after this case came to light, several female members of his religious sect have stepped forward alleging abuse at his hands at various points of time. We have an exclusive interview with one such member."

Jake switched off the TV. He leaned back on his couch and looked through the open door to Katrina's room. She lay peacefully under her covers, the agony of her wounds subdued by some painkillers. He asked her to press charges, but she wanted to put the whole incident behind her.

Now he knew. The next hurdle was how to say it. It had taken Jake this long to learn how he felt, expressing it would be another uphill battle. He smiled wistfully, knowing he was up for it.

"No more chasing shadows," he swore to himself. "This is it."

His brave thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing. Curious as to whom it could be at this late hour, he glanced over at the screen. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw the name.

BRITTANY CALLING

"Hello?" he said tepidly.

"Jake, I'm coming to New York on Saturday. We need to meet."

The call was dropped. True to her style, Brittany wasted no words. It must have been important for her to call up someone whose mere voice she loathed.

Jake hung his head and sighed. Something told him it would not be a pretty reunion.





Living with Katrina Ch. 09



Chapter 9 now and we have a lot of underlying issues coming out here. Sorry for the delay, but I had college work, job hunting and a whole load of other shit to tackle. Chapter 10 is being written as you read this. As always, your votes and comments keep me going so do take a moment to drop them for me.

A huge vote of thanks to my enthusiastic and insightful new editor NaokoSmith who constantly finds ways to improve my writing.

DISCLAIMER – This chapter contains a few brief scenes of lesbianism. I hope that is to your taste. 

"Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love." 
― Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye 





Living with Katrina Ch. 09



Jake knew better than to be surprised. She could read people with unerring accuracy. He averted his gaze. He could not go down this road with Brittany. Not now, when he was struggling to make sense of it himself.

"Does it really help?" he said, cringing inwardly.

"Excuse me?"

"Does it really help blaming me for what happened back then?" Jake went on. "Is that how you sleep at night?"

"Don't push it, Jake," Brittany warned, her icy tone trembling for the first time.

"Why do you hate me so much, Brit?"

"Jake, I swear to God I'll kill you if you don't stop," she said, visibly losing her cool for once. 

"Look what all that hatred has done to you, sis. You have no one left in your life who cares about you. The people you surround yourself with are too afraid to look you in the eye, let alone have a reason to care."

Brittany spoke up, in a deathly unwavering tone. The emotion in her voice was layered with over two decades of pent up hatred.

"I don't need anyone. All that people do is hurt me," she said plainly. "Even my own family."

"You have to move on, Brit," he said, trying to reach out to her. "You have to let go."

Brittany locked him in a still gaze. If she felt any emotion, she certainly did not show it. Hers was a cold demeanour which had taken years of isolation to perfect.

"Do you know what hyperthymesia is?" 

He nodded, having some idea what was coming next. His sister had hyperthymesia or "perfect recall". She remembered every detail of everything she ever saw, heard, read, felt or even thought.

"When I was eleven, I had to see my parents' bodies after the accident. Remember that day? Because I do, every single detail in vivid colour."

She began. "August 16th, 1987. The temperature held a mean of 79 degrees, 2 below normal. There was a slight drizzle in the morning giving way to clear skies in the evening. Northwest Airlines flight 255 crashed during takeoff in Detroit, killing everybody on board but four year old Cecilia Cichan from Tempe, Arizona. It was also the date of perfect planetary alignment and a global meditation to celebrate the event."

It seemed so effortless. Thousands of hard disks could not hold the staggering amount of memory she did, nor could they retrieve data with such ease. Behind those cold eyes sat a terrifying mind no one could quite comprehend.

"Three members of a family, Henry and Lisa Gallagher and their son Jake, were going to a birthday party when they were hit by a drunk driver at 5:25 pm near Union Square," she continued in a hollow metallic voice, as if she wasn't aware she was speaking any longer. "They were rushed to Feldman Medical Centre. Henry and Lisa Gallagher were pronounced dead on arrival at 5:45 pm. Jake was miraculously unhurt, but suffered some bruising, whiplash and a concussion."

She leaned forwards some more, her eyes searing into Jake.

"Henry and Lisa Gallagher suffered multiple fractures. Their skulls were crushed, the blood vessels haemorrhaging on impact. They died a painful death, bleeding into their brains. That's what the record says, but I have something more."

Jake was under her spell, unable to tear his gaze away. His heart rate increased with every passing second.

"I saw their faces," Brittany said coldly, enunciating each syllable slowly and distinctly. "I saw the bloody, broken, gashed faces of my parents. Faces I won't forget. Faces I can't forget, no matter how much I try. I see those faces every time I close my eyes. So don't you tell me to move on and let go. My mind... cannot let go."

The waiter brought them their first course. Jake's hands were trembling when he tried to take a helping, so the waiter did the needful. Brittany had a way of getting to him, and she was nowhere near losing her touch. She went about eating, her face not betraying an iota of the wrath coursing through her.

At least Jake had changed the topic off Katrina. He was not ready to deal with that yet, not by a long-shot. 





Living with Katrina Ch. 09



His pose, the bottle and the slight wetness of tears on the cushion where his face rested – it was a scream for help. A deafening, poignant cry that echoed within her heart.

"Jake?" she said with some trepidation.

His eyelids fluttered. He clutched the soft cushion a little tighter.

"Jake?" she repeated, prodding his shoulder.

He opened his eyes a sliver, enough to see the silhouette of a concerned roommate in the blinding whiteness. His head hurt. He tried supporting himself on one arm, but fell off the couch. Gingerly, he got to his feet.

"What happened, Jake?"

He did not reply, collapsing back onto the softness of his couch with his head in his hands. Katrina sat beside him and draped a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"August 16th, 1987," he started in a rough voice, worn out from the night's anguish. "A young boy threw a tantrum to go to his best friend's birthday party. His parents eventually gave in. They were driving him there when they were hit by a sedan and died. The one person whose fault it was, who should have died, lived on."

Katrina clapped her palm over her mouth in horror. The last sentence drove all the air out of her lungs. 

"It wasn't your fault." She insisted, her pulse racing and her mind in disbelief.

Jake turned to face her with an expression bereft of all emotion.

"Hear a lie enough times and you begin to wonder if it was the truth all along."

Katrina threw both arms around her roommate and hugged him as tightly as she could. She wept into his shoulder and her heart ripped through the middle. 

In that moment, Jake Gallagher was the sum total of all his weakness. Yet, he did not shed a tear, because he was no longer alone. 

His ego would not let him be weak. No matter how much it hurt.





Living with Katrina Ch. 10



Hi Litsters,

Here is chapter 10, starting off right where 9 ended. This chapter is the most important of the series, in my opinion. Try as I might, I couldn't find a place to squeeze in sex into this chapter. If it's any consolation, I do believe the next couple of chapters will have lots and lots of the good stuff ;)

I'm also writing a separate story involving Katrina (Madness in the Method).

As always, I am indebted to my editor NaokoSmith who has the unenviable task of going through my horrendous rough drafts and getting them into some sort of order.

"I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night." - The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini





Living with Katrina Ch. 10



Katrina's mind was reeling from the revelations. Brittany calmly sipped away on her drink.

"The outing was probably the wife's idea. Notice how they are sitting near that other couple beside the fountain. I would say, the husband worked with that guy before the crisis. The wife keeps shooting a periodic glance in their direction to see if they are looking back. Just to ensure that those people know how well they are doing. She needn't have bothered though."

"What?!" said Kat, clearly out of her depth.

"The other couple isn't perfect either. The husband has a facial tic from abusing over the counter medication. I'm ninety percent sure the wife is taking some of his pills on the side. They're here for the exact same reason as the other family. Give it a minute or so and one of them will finally pretend to recognize the other and go over to talk to them cheerfully. My bet is on Andy's Mom."

Katrina watched the two families spellbound. This whole thing seemed like a bizarre dream. After about five minutes, the other wife came and cheerfully greeted Andy's mother. They embraced after an initial look of surprise and went about performing the social niceties.

"Well, what do you know? I was wrong," shrugged Brittany casually.

"Should we go to the cops?"

"And tell them what?" was the dry reply. "We think the kid we saw in the park for ten minutes is being abused? Doesn't sound like a very compelling argument to me."

"Look at someone else in the park," said Katrina, desperate to convince Brittany that humanity was worth it.

Brittany casually browsed over the other couples, joggers and children around them.

"Serial adulterer," she said, passing her eyes over a woman.

"Alcoholic," was a man chatting with his friend near a news stall.

"Low self esteem, probable cutter," was a teenage girl listening to music as she walked past.

"Got laid off. Has huge debts."

"Tried to commit suicide recently. Thinking of trying it again."

"Lost his house. No insurance."

"Stores child porn on his tablet."

"STOP!"

Brittany turned in Katrina's direction. She was gasping and a thin layer of sweat shone over her face.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted me to see humanity. I just gave you ten minutes with my eyes and you already seem overwhelmed."

Katrina got up and raced off towards the public toilet. She made it to the sink before she retched out the entire contents of her stomach into it. Brittany leaned against the wall and watched her, mildly amused.

"See what emotions do? Imagine if I had them like you do. I'd never have a moment's peace in my life."

"You're wrong," insisted Katrina. "Not everyone is fucked up. Look at Jake. He deserves so much more than what life has given him. The least he deserves is a real human being for a sister. Instead he has you."

Brittany waited while Kat washed her face and wiped it.

"Is it worth it?"

Kat looked at her, bewildered.

"Having emotions. Is it worth it? Emotions make you so weak and vulnerable. Is the positive side of humanity worth it?"

"It is. I'm going to prove that to you. Call your car and driver."

"Where are we going?" Brittany asked.

"The only place where Jake thinks it's okay to be weak. I think you'll find your humanity there too."





Living with Katrina Ch. 10



"Crazy," Katrina finished the sentence out loud. She poured herself a glass and held it up to her eyes. Her wrists tilted and twirled the glass, letting the ochre liquid creep to the rim before falling back. The questions were staggering and she needed time to think. Time she didn't have.

She was broken out of her ruminations by the sound of the door opening. Jake walked in. He made his way to the table. Katrina put the glass down and stood up, her eyes scanning his expression.

"How was it, Jake?"

He looked at her concerned expression and gave a weak smile. The emotions he felt went much deeper, but he was too tired to show them all. Instead, he hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear.

"Thank you, Katrina. I would never have done it without you."

Katrina shed a few tears and held him tightly. When they detached, she saw in his eyes the lightness of an enormous weight lifted. In that moment, she knew he would never again be alone.

"What's wrong?" he said, seeing her perplexed expression.

"Sit down, Jake."

Confused and somewhat worried, he sat down beside her. She took a glass of liquid courage, hoping it would help her with what she had to say.





Living with Katrina Ch. 11



So after 10 long chapters, Jake and Katrina finally locked lips. I apologize to those who think I took too long to get there, but I really wanted to explore them before going any further. Anyway, this chapter starts the storyline of their relationship and the pitfalls they must negotiate.

On a lighter note, several of my author friends on Literotica have good-naturedly ribbed me about how all my stories deal with death, darkness, tragedy and angst. Some even have gone so far as to say that I am incapable of writing a happy sexy little story. Therefore, in this chapter and the next, I will give Jake and Katrina the happiness and awesome sex they deserve for enduring ten chapters of suffering.

As always, a huge vote of thanks go out to my editor NaokoSmith who painstakingly goes through my rough drafts and improves each of them immeasurably.

"Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration."

- Araby, James Joyce





Living with Katrina Ch. 11



The issue weighed him down even more. Was Katrina truly in love with him or was she heading for another huge crash? He was too normal for her taste and he knew it. He just hoped she had the strength to forgive herself when she did break up with him.

A small ping from his terminal alerted him to a new email. Jake desperately needed to distract himself.

1 new email from Katrina Bauer (katrina_b1984@gmail.com)

He clicked on the notification, puzzled as to its contents. There was an attached zipfile. Curious, he downloaded and unzipped the contents onto his desktop. It was a slideshow of images.

Jake's eyes went wide at the first image. It was Katrina in see through underwear and fishnets, cupping her breasts. Her head was thrown back and the outline of her nether regions clearly showed.

The image rapidly segued into an image of Katrina lying flat on her bed. Her topless torso was visible against the glare of the sun streaming in through the window. The picture was sexy in a sensuous, not vulgar, way. Her fingers were between her legs.

The pictures went on, each more explicit than the last. Soon, Jake could see her bare, waxed mound and her fingers slipping in and out. The images seen in quick succession created the visual of her moving her fingers in and out of her wet lips and circling her clit. In some pictures, she let one hand pinch and tug at her nipples.

The camera shots varied. Some were from near her head, some from the side and others from between her splayed legs. There was a certain artistic quality to the photographs that made Jake feel a discomforting hardening under his desk. A lesser man might even have let his hand help out.

"Jake, do you have a moment to go over these numbers from our Granger audit?"

Immediately, his head snapped up and his fingers rushed to find the escape key. The new associate, Bonnie, stood at the doorway with a stack of papers. He just about managed to delete the file in the time she took to reach his desk.

He took the papers from her and passed a trained eye over the main spreadsheet. Out of the corner of that trained eye, he saw Bonnie's ample cleavage, forced into an inadequate bra. The pale flesh burst around the material, for his viewing benefit.

"Bonnie, you umm..." Jake gestured, trying to look away.

"Like what you see?" she asked coyly.

"I have a girlfriend," he blurted out before he could think of anything else.

"What?!"

Jake closed his eyes and cursed himself inwardly. Given Bonnie's penchant for office gossip, he might as well have said it on the building's PA system.

"Let's finish this audit report now," he said. "And not make a deal out of what I just said."

"All right, but I want details later," she giggled.