Killing Kate (7 page)

The view is beautiful.  I can see
the Chicago River through one set of floor to ceiling glass windows and Navy
Pier through the other set.  Drake turns the lights on and the city lights
become less prominent, but I can see that his color scheme of his apartment is
the complete opposite of his car.  Everything is completely white and
immaculate.  While my walls are white, my constant chain smoking has probably
tinged them a dingy yellow over time.  His are glowing, and the word “pristine”
comes to mind.  Various pieces of abstract artwork covered his walls which tied
in the red shag rug and plush red sofas.  His kitchen was an open area with
shiny white cabinets and light granite countertops, all gleaming from lack of
use, no doubt.  Christ, what the hell was I doing with this guy?  I spot a
glass sliding door and I step onto a balcony and light up before I
hyperventilate.  Drake follows me outside.  I am still wearing his jacket but
it’s so warm outside, I start to shrug it off.  Drake looks amused.

“Do you realize that people have
telescopes and binoculars around here and are probably enjoying the show you’re
giving them?” he asks me, looking pointedly at my bare chest.  I shrug.  My
level of caring went on permanent hiatus years ago.

“So cover me,” I tell him and pull
him over and put his hands over my breasts.  I finish smoking and pitch the
cigarette butt over the balcony.  I lazily drape my arms over his shoulders and
link my fingers behind his neck and push myself against him and find his lips
with my own.  He tastes of bourbon and I notice he’s poured himself a drink.  I
realize that he’s a non-smoker kissing a smoker.  I’ve heard that kissing a
smoker is like kissing an ashtray, which is a disgusting thought.  I decide to
help the cause and take a swig of his bourbon.  I note that it’s definitely
good quality stuff.  I could get used to this lifestyle.

“Follow me,” Drake says.  He leads
me off the balcony and slides the door closed behind me.  I follow him down a
short hallway to a large bedroom.  Again, I am comparing my shoddy mattress and
sheets on the floor to his lavish masculine black wood sleigh bed.  His room is
simple in décor (like mine!) with a bed, two nightstands and a bureau in the
corner where I assume a television is concealed.  The curtains are closed
otherwise Drake would have a view of Navy Pier, I judge based on the layout I
recall of his living room.  It occurred to me that Drake is classy enough to
have a “living room”, while the rest of Chicago has “front rooms” or
“fronchrooms” as we tend to say.  “Sit in the middle of the bed and strip,” he
tells me flatly.  Now I see there is a chair off to the side and he sits on it,
fully clothed and calm with his drink, sipping casually.

I go along and sit down on his soft
duvet, feeling myself sink in.  I now notice it’s not completely white like
everything else but rather a very light silvery grey.  Since stripping doesn’t
really involve much at this point, it doesn’t take much effort to hook my
thumbs inside of the bikini straps across my hips and pull my panties down and
toss them off toward Drake.  They land on his lap.  His hand picks them up and
holds them in a ball, clenched in his left fist.  “Play with yourself,” he
instructs me.  His tone doesn’t change at all.

“Why don’t you join me?” I ask
him.  Drake shrugs and gives me a slight smile.

“I like to watch,” he tells me.

Oh, interesting, I think to myself. 
The disappointment must be obvious across my face because he reassures me, “I
will join you…soon.”  I smile and settle back against the pillows that feel
like silk on my bare skin and decide to do as I’m told, not because he told me
to, but because I want to do it for him.  I put my finger in my mouth to get it
wet, which is cliché but I watch a lot of dirty movies and think that men like
to see girls actually do the things that only tend to happen in porn.  To
confirm this I trace my wet fingertip around my nipple until it turns into a
stiff, hard peak while watching Drake’s face. He is annoyingly difficult to
read, though the slightly faster movements of his chest indicate I’m performing
well.  I press my nipple down gently and watch as it springs back up instantly.

With my other hand I reach down to
stroke my thigh, which has a lingering stickiness to it from the drink and my
own bodily fluids from earlier at dinner.  I watch Drake the whole time.  He is
calm and still but I can see the clenching muscles on the arm he is holding my
panties in.  I know my actions have some effect on him.  I part myself with my
hand and give him a good view by lying on my back with my feet pointed toward
him and my knees in the air.  Sliding two fingers inside of myself, I feel how
wet I am again.  I wonder if it’s possible to make myself come without Kate
tonight.  It certainly feels like I might, but I want to wait for Drake.  I ache
for him to join me, but for now I am alone with myself.  I close my eyes and
let my mind wander.  Bad idea.  Suddenly I am in a place I haven’t been in a
very long time….

“She’s in here,” I hear my daddy
say.  I am in my room from when I was a child.  I recognize the yellow
bedspread and the stain in the corner by the white wooden door.  My stuffed
tiger named “Bunny” is propped up against the windowsill, and I suddenly feel
the urge to run over to him and squeeze him and cry.  I sit on my bed afraid for
the man who will inevitably come inside and lay on top of me.  They always come
and do things I don’t like and laugh and leave.  Daddy gets money and buys me a
new toy, but I don’t care about the toys, I just want to be left alone.  “I
told you she’s beautiful.”

It’s not one man, but two.  I can’t
see their faces, but they are wearing dark clothes and look rich and mean, even
though they’re smiling.  One sets up a tripod and puts a camera on top of it. 
He leaves his clothes on.  The other is about to take his clothes off but my
daddy stops him.  “Money first,” he says.  “And you stop when I say stop.  I
told you what you can and can’t do and don’t think I won’t kick the shit out of
you if you break my rules in my house.”  The man nods, ready to agree to anything. 
He throws his suit jacket over Bunny and pulls his tie off quickly.  He is
eager and something in his eyes tells me that he isn’t a good person.  No one
who comes over to visit me is a good person.  Now he is in his underwear, and my
daddy stands by my head and tells me to lie down and be still, stroking my hair
away from my face.  He always stays there the whole time, whispering to me,
telling me he loves me, but I don’t believe him anymore.  I told him if he
loved me he’d stop and he doesn’t ever let it stop.  It just happens again and
again, week after week, sometimes a lot.  The other man stands near the camera
and I see a red light on.  The man in his underwear lies next to me and begins
to touch me and rub himself against me, and I am sinking inside the hole in my
bed….

Drake is on top of me and I can
feel his bare skin on mine.  He is so warm, and I am suddenly cold and pull him
closer to me so I can feel his warm body next to mine.  He slips inside of me
and fills me up and inside so deeply.  A few thrusts and I come almost
instantly, and he follows a few seconds later.  “You are beautiful,” he mumbles
in my ear.  “From the moment I first saw you, I wanted you.”

I note that my cheeks are wet and
hope he doesn’t notice.  Stupid Jenna, I think.  Grow the fuck up and get over
it.  He is about to pull himself off of me but I pull him back toward me. 
“Don’t go yet,” I say.  I wrap my legs around his waist and roll so I am on top
of him.  He is still hard inside of me, and I sit up and begin to grind against
him with my hips, making him moan.  I pull his hands up to my breasts and he
squeezes to the point where the tears on my face increase and have a reason to
be there.  We take a bit longer this time around, maybe ten minutes of me riding
him, but I am back to myself before I slipped away to never-never-again-land. 
My ass feels completely sore and numb by the time I come but this time it’s
much more intense.  I feel like my spine fell asleep, numb with pins and
needles inside.  Drake pulls himself out of me and gives himself a firm stroke
and hot white liquid shoots all the way up to my breasts and slides down to my
stomach.  He pulls me down so I am pressed firmly against him and then rolls me
off of him.

“Clean me off,” he says to me.  I look
around in search of a towel, about to get up and find one.  He grabs my wrist
to stop me and shakes his head.  “Clean me off,” he repeats.  “With your
mouth.”  I smile and nod in understanding and crouch over his sticky stomach,
starting close to his chest and tasting him with long strokes using my tongue. 
I start again, licking him from chest to crotch with a long stroke and see it
doesn’t take much to get Drake hard again.  He’s fucking insatiable, I think, and
I place my tongue against the tip of his cock and lick off the dab of liquid
that’s building there and pull my tongue slowly away, building a line
connecting my mouth to him.  It breaks and I go back for more, placing the head
gently in my mouth and letting my saliva drip down the shaft, making him wet. 
My hand wraps around the base and I push my mouth down and my hand up and make Drake
moan.  His hand travels to the back of my head and pushes it gently down so my
mouth fills with his cock, sliding all the way to the back of my throat and
making me gag slightly.  I’m not sure why the sound of a girl gagging always
gets a guy going, but Drake is no exception.

As my hand slides wetly around the
base of his cock my mouth and tongue play with the tip and shaft.  Suddenly he
pushes my head away and I feel him spurt all over my cheeks, mouth and chin.  Now
I definitely want a towel, because I somehow doubt Drake is willing to lick his
own cum off of my face.

Drake has a bathroom inside of his
bedroom, down a small hallway and across from a huge walk in closet.  I step in
and begin to splash water on my face and observe that my reflection isn’t
exactly as enticing as it was when I left my apartment at the beginning of the
evening.  I have sex hair, and my skin is flushed and red.  There’s a hickey on
my right shoulder, and when I turn around and look at my back in the mirror,
there are definitely some faint claw marks just above my ass.  I look at Drake’s
shower longingly and notice that it’s the biggest shower I’ve ever seen, with a
bench and jets coming out of the sides.  I vow that once I get my inheritance
I’m going to buy a shower just like it.  Fuck it, I think, and step inside.  I
pull the knob over all the way to the hottest setting and let the water pour
all over me, washing the juices off of my thighs and more thoroughly off of my
face.  When I open my eyes, I gasp, surprised to see Drake watching me with a
silly smirk on his face.

“Sorry,” I call out from inside,
feeling the echo bounce off the marble walls.  “Do you mind?”

He responds by opening the glass
door and letting himself inside, along with a burst of cold air conditioning. 
“Jesus fuck, it’s hot,” he says.  He turns the knob a bit more toward the
middle and presses something that turns the side jets on, making me gasp
again.  “Since you serviced me so well,” Drake says, “why don’t you let me take
care of you?”

I shrug and see that he means to
wash me down.  He takes some liquid soap and puts it on a loofa and gently rubs
it over my breasts and shoulders.  He motions for me to turn around and does my
back and reaches around and cleans my belly and slips his hand inside of me to
wash out where I feel the dirtiest at the moment.  The soap slides down my
thighs and legs and pools around my feet.  The way Drake is handling and
pampering me I feel like a little girl.  In fact, I feel exactly like I did
when I was a little girl and too numb to move and Devin sometimes had to help
me to take a bath and clean off the filth and corruption that was coated on me
from whomever Jack’s last patron was.  It’s not something I’d like to think
about now, and turn to kiss Drake hard and fill my head with his tongue instead
of diseased thoughts that deserve to die.  “That’s the first time we’ve
kissed,” I remark.  “A bit backwards, I’d say.”

Drake smiles and pushes a wet
strand of hair off my cheek.  “I’m not very traditional,” he tells me and then
kisses me again.  I feel him grow hard again.  Again?  He disconnects the
shower head and holds it between my legs and turns another knob I didn’t know
about and I feel the water pressure increase.  I feel my knees buckle and Drake
catches me in his arms as I come and practically black out.  Luckily there’s
the bench, and I sit down and part my knees and hold my head in my hands as I
catch my bearings.  I hear Drake groan and look up and see he’s used the shower
head on himself.  How many times did that make, I wonder?  I stand up, feeling
less dizzy and give myself a final rinse and step out.  There are fluffy grey
towels hanging on the wall and I grab one and bury myself in it.  In the mirror
I look beat.  My makeup has washed off and there are remaining smudges of black
under my eyes.  I am still flushed from my last orgasm but overall I look
tired.

“Do you have clothes I could
possibly wear home?” I look behind me and see Drake wrapping another towel
around his waist.  I need a cigarette.  The air around me is almost too
sterile.  I couldn’t possibly spend the night with this perfect man, who I am
not sure wants me to anyway, so I feel it’s best to broach the subject and make
it my idea.

He doesn’t really question it
either.  “Might be hard to find you a pair of pants or shorts that will fit,”
he says.  “Let me see what I can find.”

“I’ll be on the balcony,” I tell
him.  I walk over to his living room and find my purse and my cigarettes.  I
note the clock on his oven says its 2:37 am.  Holding the towel around me, I
stand outside and smoke and practically choke on the humid air.  When I come
inside, Drake is sitting on his sofa next to a pair of faded jeans and a white
t-shirt.