Pussified

"Off the table. Shoo!"

With an exaggerated swiping motion, Ivana chased Šárka off the table and locked eyes with the woman she believed to be her lover.

"Now where were we, my darling little kitten?"

Heat from the wood-burning stove flushed their bodies. The doppelgänger allowed the quilt to pool over her shoulders, plump nipples erect and golden eyes glinting with a cutting gaze that could conquer armies.

"God, you are so gorgeous."

The doppelgänger merely sat and stared.

"I almost don't want to attend the women's group today, but I must. Františka's made me a member of the suffragist committee, you know. I've got an obligation." Ivana poured two steaming cups of herb tea into a matching pair of earthen mugs. "Honey?"

The woman placed one leg on the table, quilt draped suggestively, proffering a view of her raw, hairy slit. Ivana blushed as she dolloped a generous helping of sweet nectar into each cup, never breaking eye contact.

"I know you don't care for marching in the street, but the men have done it, and thanks to them, we can speak our language, celebrate our Czechness." She paused to sip her tea, "We don't need to grovel under those Austrian boots any longer, although, I'm happy we were born after all the violence."

The doppelgänger stretched; blonde tufts matted with the heady scent of their lovemaking lined her underarms.

"Could you imagine if we didn't have to hide... if we could stay like this forever?"

Paying Ivana no heed, she nuzzled her face against her armpit and started to preen herself, more interested in grazing the salty residue off with her tongue. Ivana's eyes wandered to her mug, lost in contemplation.

"And Františka's such a strong figure, such a leader. She's so... she's so..." Ivana's voice trailed off in search of a word that fit. "Steadfast."

The Šárka look-alike began flicking her tongue over the patch of curls thatching her other armpit. Ivana, finding nothing out of the ordinary, continued.

"I was beginning to think we'd fallen out of love. At least, I thought so until this morning." Ivana nervously rapped her knuckles over the table, averting her gaze. "I tried to fill my void, my wants, my desires." Ivana's breath became choppy. Her eyebrow twitched. "I can't live this lie any longer. It's that Františka. She seduced me and took me and fucked me -- after meetings at the hotel or the back of the opera, even on the tram. And her belt -- if you could see how she commands that glorious strip of leather, the way she winds it over her wrists... You've never noticed the welts, not even once."

Ivana tenderly reached out her hand and stroked the doppelgänger's fleecy tufts, now coated in a thin layer of drool, and gathered a bead of sweat, placing it delicately over her sex-stained lips. Sucking off the pungent, earthy aroma, her face puckered in bitter realization.

"I should have been more patient. If I had known you were such an animal then I... I..." Ivana broke down and sobbed, "I've been horrible to you. I've ruined everything."

The woman continued to stare with her leg propped on the table, arm stretched awkwardly above her tousled mess of blonde locks. Ivana set down her mug and leaned in, her eyes puffy and swollen.

"Won't you ever forgive me?"

The woman's gaze remained fixed, her expression vapid. Tears carved salty trails through dried flakes of arousal still smeared over Ivana's face.

"My prinsezna, my laská..."

Eyes connected by an invisible force, face emotionless, the woman silently knocked her untouched mug off the table, sending a torrent of hot tea flying over to the corner nearest to the stove where Šárka had curled up into a ball of resentment, trapped in a web of conflicting emotions.

After being chased away, spurned by her lover, Šárka had resigned herself to a small basket beside the stove. The porcelain bowl filled with quickly souring milk from the icebox held no interest to her. Listening to the exchange, the cheating, the betrayal -- Šárka could make neither head nor tails of it. Anger tethered her in place and when the mug cracked on the hardwood floor, its contents forming a puddle next to her, all she could do was hiss. Hiss at Ivana. Hiss at this hideous creature who replaced her. Hiss at the injustice of no fair trial back into her lover's heart. For deep down, she still clawed at the frayed thread of hope that all would be well; if only she could get some sleep.

"Píča," said the woman.

"Oh, it's true. I've been a complete píča. How can I ever make it up to you?"

The woman's empty stare remained unchanged.

"Please?"

Still, nothing. Ivana nervously fidgeted in her seat, her eyes tracing a path from the doppelgänger to the mess on the floor and back to the doppelgänger again.

"Y-you can't mean... you couldn't possibly want me to..." Ivana stood up and adjusted her slip. Her voice quivered for a moment before finding traction, "I'll go clean up my mess."

Early morning sun glinted through the windowpane. The rain had let up, leaving torn wisps of clouds to dissipate into nothingness. Dappled light outlined Ivana's curves as she got on hands and knees next to Šárka.

Glancing at her misidentified lover with trepidation, she cautiously lowered her body, the lace trim lining her slip pressing up over her rounded buttocks, and carefully ran her tongue over the spillage on the floor, reddened eyes begging for approval.

Šárka's face wrinkled like an overripe prune. Her internal rage took pleasure in seeing Ivana bent over in a desperate attempt at forgiveness. She had to admit the way the silk slip stuck to her straining breasts, the outline of her stiff nipples so visible as they angled down into a succulent valley, almost made her forget, but she could never forgive such betrayal. Ivana's eyes continued to search for any reaction from the woman who watched on impassively.

Tossing the quilt to the side, the doppelgänger strode over to Ivana. Šárka cowered in the corner, too scared to confront the monster towering above her.

With her bare foot, the woman pressed Ivana's face into the floor, forcing her to lap at honeyed notes of mint and remorse. Tears flowed freely down Ivana's face like the Vltava river after a heavy summer rain as she slurped up every drop of her mess, the weight of the woman's foot heavy on the back of her head.

Despite Šárka enjoying Ivana pitifully grovel on the floor, the doppelgänger had taken things too far.

"Who is she to think she owns us?" thought Šárka. "Filthy foreigner fake. Only knows one word of Czech and it's horrendous! This isn't right. It isn't natural."

As much as she seethed with hurt and humiliation over Ivana's infidelity, the pompous stranger using her like a piece of meat, like a domineering bitch, like an entitled royal subjugating her sweet Ivana (for deep down, she still loved her darling), sent her over the edge.

With a yowl and a hiss, she sprung up and latched onto the imposter's face, biting and clawing with pure vengeance.

The woman howled and screamed, tripping over Ivana's prostrate form while she tried to pry Šárka off. The two swiped and bit and kicked in a fight to the death on the kitchen floor, a tangle of fiery fur and skin.

"Číča, no!"

An apple from the fruit bowl hurtled through the air, striking Šárka's head.

"Bad kitty," scolded Ivana.

Šárka's body went limp on impact as her muscles relaxed and fell onto the cold hardwood floor. Dying embers glowed through a crack in the stove's door in a feeble attempt to warm her matted fur.

"Oh, my poor, sweet Šárka, how could anyone hurt you like this?"

The real Šárka's head throbbed, her vision blurred, as she watched Ivana console the battered woman in her arms. Fog filled her senses as she gave up, defeated.

She barely noticed when Ivana stroked her doppelgänger behind the ears, or when she tickled her fingers under her chin, or when the doppelgänger nuzzled into Ivana, or when Ivana's slip began to stick to her folds, slick with juices milked from her humiliation.

"I'm starting to think we should get a dog instead," Ivana whispered in the woman's ear, "A proper bitch and name her Teta."

The woman purred.

"I'm done with this stupid cat."

Ivana marched over to the dazed Šárka splayed out on the floor, picked her up by the scruff, opened the window and tossed her out onto the street from their second-story flat.

Šárka plunged to the cobblestones below, crumpled in front of a bread stall like a ragdoll. Amidst the bustle of the morning market, her hazy eyes gazed up at the open window. Her unfinished paintings, her teaching, her Ivana already dissolved in an all-consuming miasma.

The two women locked lips in passionate embrace. The doppelgänger shot Šárka a triumphant grin as she pressed Ivana against the windowsill and closed the curtains. A pair of golden orbs the final image etched into Šárka's tiny mind before her world faded to black.