The Other Katie

She got him all the way in and started to move slowly. He lifted his hips to meet her, rock with her in the rhythm she set, and he loved her rhythm, it was so insanely arousing. He searched for her clitoris again and let her move against him, and she did, she was picking up speed and pressing harder against his thumb, and he lifted his hips to her and moaned, so aroused it wasn't possible to say anything anymore.

She was breathing harder and moving faster and then she got there, she got her second orgasm. She tensed and stopped moving but he still moved inside her, he couldn't stop now, she was so hot and tight and wet. And now she squeezed around him, pulsing, and she let out that wonderful sound, that most amazing vocalization of the pleasure she was experiencing. She leaned on to his chest and he took hold of her, keeping her against his chest as he rolled her over on her back, keeping inside her.

He watched her face as he resumed his movement, making sure she didn't object, that he didn't hurt her, that she wanted it still. He started picking up speed and got her along. He was so hard now he wouldn't have believed he would fit inside her if he wasn't already there, and it was so wonderful not to use a condom, he could feel her so clearly, every slick crease and nook.

He was panting against her neck and pumping ever faster. He lost it now, he thrust inside her, so hard, so fast, and she tensed as she came again. He was thrusting through it and she couldn't settle down from it, it sorta lingered on, and she whimpered as he hammered in her and then he was suddenly over the edge. He stiffened and pushed deep, and he pulsed in her, so deep, so strongly, and he felt her responding to him, pulsing on her own, it wasn't an orgasm but like she welcomed him, her body responded to his. His world stopped as his orgasm surged through him and he breathed raggedly to her neck, sweaty, spent. He loved her so much right now, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

He didn't say anything and neither did she. He moved just a little, pulled out an inch just to get to push back in again and made a small thoroughly satisfied sound. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her, and he relaxed on her and pressed his face to her neck. She stroked his hair, letting his curls flow through his fingers, and then she pulled the blanket over him, over them.

He didn't want to pull out and she didn't make him, so they just rested in each other, came down slowly, until he was so soft he flowed out of her with their joined fluids on his own. Then he moved not to have his weight on her anymore, but she kept him close, her arms around him, his head to the side of her neck, on her shoulder. He felt so safe, so safe and loved and appreciated, and so relaxed after this amazing sexual release he just fell asleep in her arms.

--#--#--#--#--#--

He started to wake up, his consciousness slowly returning. He stretched and turned on his other side, curling back up, he was always slow to wake up and now he was tired after staying up so late. He fumbled for his pillow but couldn't find his favorite one, and slowly it started to come back to him that he wasn't home. That wasn't so unusual, it was more uncommon for him to spend every night of the week waking up in his own home than some other place, but now it hit him like a lightning to remember where he was.

He was in Katie's hotel room. She had taken him up to her room with her and they had made love.

He lay still and listened. He was quite certain she wasn't in bed with him, and he couldn't hear noises from the bathroom, either.

He stretched again, yawning. He was stark naked and he smiled as he remembered last night, how good it had been with her, how beautiful she was all over. How the light from the small bedside lamp had landed on her skin. How she had held him going to sleep, it somehow felt like the most meaningful part of it, and now he longed for her to hold him like that. He didn't know it at the time, had no way of predicting it, but that longing would stay with him for the rest of his life, unsatiated by anyone but her, and it would be most of his life he wouldn't be with her.

He opened his eyes and looked around, squinting them in the bright morning light. November was usually dark and gloomy but today was sunny and light flooded the small room, landing in stripes through the shades, slanting down in where she sat in an armchair near the window.

She had on a nightgown of pale blue cotton and she had lifted her legs in the chair as well, she had her knees to her chest and her arms around them. She looked at him, and he couldn't interpret her expression, it was a solemn one, she was seldom this serious.

He looked across the room at her, and then he extended his arms towards her, like a small child pleading to be picked up. He hoped she would get up, come back to bed, he was a little dispirited she'd gotten out in the first place. He hoped she wasn't regretting last night. It had been good for her as well, he was certain of that, but beyond that he didn't have any answers.

She didn't move and he lowered his arms. He thought of saying something, but now his instincts kicked in and he didn't. Instead he got out of bed as well, self conscious of his morning erection and how pitifully pale his skin was in this light, but he just had to go to her.

He kneeled in front of her, it was cold to be out from under the covers and he was shivering already. Luckily there was at least a carpet on the floor, and he could feel the warmth of the radiator on his back. She responded almost automatically and lowered her feet on the floor, he sat down on his right buttock and put his head in her lap, pressing his right cheek on her thigh, nearer her knees than her crotch, facing away from her. He could feel the fabric of her nightgown under his cheek and her warmth underneath it.

There was a small hesitation but then she put her fingers into his hair. He shivered from her touch and then of the cold again, he felt his morning erection starting to subside from all the discomfort. But she touched him now and she was gentle, her fingertips went through his scalp, untangling his curls, and then she touched his cheek, jaw, and traced it to his lips.

He kissed her fingertips when she touched his lips and she shivered. She swept over his cheek and back into his hair, then she reached to touch his shoulder, and asked, "Aren't you cold?"

"Yes," he said.

She made a sound, he couldn't interpret if it was amused or frustrated. She stroked his shoulder with her wonderful, soft palm. His skin was cool under it, she was right it was cold now. And the floor was hard under his arse. But he needed to be close to her, and if she didn't want to cuddle with him in the warmth of the bed he would rather hunch here than be there alone.

"Come on," she said and nudged him. He lifted his head to look up at her, and now she smiled a little. "Get back to bed, you're freezing your ass off."

He complied, and she followed him. He huddled under the covers and shuddered, then extended his hand questioningly, and she came under the blanket as well, she tangled her legs with his and he tried to wrap the blanket around her back without barging too close. She looked at him and he looked back, then rubbed his eyes, he was still sleepy and didn't know what to say to her.

She touched his cheek again. Spreading her fingers she slid her palm over his cheek to his neck, his shoulder, along his arm down to his hand. He turned his to take hers, and then they held hands and looked at each other. He had gotten soft in the discomfort of the floor, but now he felt his penis stirring again, feeling her slender legs against his, how smooth her skin was. He wasn't hairy himself, but feminine skin was so different somehow, so smooth, so soft, so good to touch. Her eyes were large and dark and she looked at him searchingly, still with that uncharacteristically solemn and serious look.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

She looked at him, thinking, but then she leaned closer and let him kiss her. Her lips were so soft and sensual. He moved his against hers, caressing hers gently, respectfully, and she responded, it was a very sweet and tender kiss. She hesitated for a second but then she came closer, and he turned on his back to take her in his arms. She cuddled close to him, along his side, pressed her head close to his, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. She softened, let him hold her, but still she didn't say anything.

"I hope you're not regretting this," he said.

"I'm not," she said and his heart jumped with joy. He kissed her forehead again.

"Are you?" she asked.

"Oh no," he said, so fast and so certain she laughed.

"Oh no?" she asked and rolled over to see him, she put her hand on his chest and lay her chin on it, and he was glad to see her eyes were sparkling with mischievous amusement again.

"So what do you think about this, then?" she asked. He would've wanted her to go first, to see where she was, calibrate from her to not be too enthusiastic or needy or weird, but she had beat him to it, and now he thought about what to say.

"Well I was hoping it would come to this," he said, that much was definitely true and it was easier to talk about what had been than what he wished would happen now. Come to think of it he had no idea what he wished would happen. What he had a right to wish for.

"Yeah?" she said. "Well you knew it would come to this, didn't you. We've been getting to it for some time now."

Woah. So, honesty. And she knew he knew, and didn't bother with sugar coating it with maybes or some sort of playing it down, either.

"Is that what it's about to you?" he asked. "The, I don't know, chase or whatever? Are you sad it's over?"

She looked at him, then broke the eye contact and put her head down on his chest. He touched her hair carefully, stroked her scalp with his fingertips, hoping it would feel anything as good to her as it did to him when she touched him like that.

"That's a good question, you know," she said. "Because there's satisfaction in getting to it, isn't there. And once it's done it's done, it won't be like that anymore. But no it's not about that for me."

He kept his hand in her hair, kept touching her, and she turned to look at him again.

"You're much gentler than I thought," she said. It wasn't a question and so he didn't answer. She reached to kiss him and it was gentle, sweet, tender, but still he felt his penis stir. He wanted her, he wanted her to want him. He loved her, now more than ever. He wondered how much of it he could express to her. And how.

"Yeah," she said, looking at him, closer than before. "You're so sweet. You don't come across as this gentle."

"Yeah?" he said and couldn't help but smile a little. "Are you disappointed? You want something rougher?"

"Are you ever rough?" she asked in return.

"Well I don't get kicks out of it," he said.

And he thought he probably wasn't rough even when he was rough, it just wasn't about that to him. He didn't want to just take anyone even if they agreed to it, he wanted to do it together, get closer to one another. He wanted his woman to enjoy it, to cum in his hands, it was more important to him than what he got out of it. He couldn't say that to her, it was too personal, he needed to joke about this a little now, and so he continued, "I can try if you wanna," and smiled.

She laughed, she knew he was joking.

"You'd try, for me, huh?" she said and smiled. Such a wonderful smile, radiant, amused. "No, I don't need you to be rough. It's really good the way you do it, you have to know that."

She looked at him, still smiling, and added, "I can't believe you're blushing."

"I am?" he said, although he could feel his cheeks burning. "Sorry."

"So what now?" she asked. "You gonna brag around about shagging me?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed, offended. "I mean, what."

He didn't even know how to formulate it but he was really surprised and taken aback by this line of conversation. He rarely talked about sex, and never braggingly, when he did it was serious and he was really drunk and even then it was only with his closest friends. He was a deeply private person in any regard and most definitely this one.

"Winston brags," she observed.

"Well, duh," he said, not really understanding how Ted Winston's idiotism was related to him.

"I mean he brags about your shags," Kate said. "In addition to his own, of course."

He must've looked genuinely astonished, because she smiled. "You didn't know?"

"No," he said, flabbergasted. "Why would he? And how?"

"Well he wouldn't say that to you, I suppose," Kate said. "But he does. So, you know, I'd rather not be just an addition to that list."

"What list?" he said, getting more uncomfortable by the second. "How would he even know? I haven't like...confided in him or anything."

"Well it's a small scene," she said. "You left that one party with Elaine the other day. And you did Lucy less than discreetly. And so forth, you know."

"Well I don't intend it to be like that," he said. "And it wasn't even like that with Elaine, not that it's any of anyone's business. "

There was a knock on the door. He startled, but she just got up, saying, "Room service," and went to open it. A little later she came back with a breakfast tray, setting it on the bedside table. She sat on the edge of the bed and started to pour coffee.

"How do you drink it, black?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

He sat up, leaning on the headboard. He was displeased, he didn't appreciate Winston taking any interest in his love life, and he definitely didn't like him bragging about it. He thought someone listening to him might think he wanted it like that, and it made him writhe with discomfort. And he didn't know what to do about it, other than try to keep his love life out of his knowledge, and that he had been doing all along. Apparently that just wasn't enough. He didn't know how to confront him with it, and if it would even work.

"Still thinking about Winston?" Kate asked, handing his coffee to him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I didn't know. And I don't appreciate it."

"Yeah, I figured you don't," she said. "It's stupid of him, anyway. You know he started hitting on me the instant we ever met? And I might've considered, but I won't do it with someone who talks about it like that. It's such a turnoff to think of someone talking about you like that. You'd think he'd realize it's so."

"You should tell him that, bet he'd quit," he said.

"Yeah?" she said, smiling, sipping her coffee. "You think I'm that appealing to him?"

He looked at her, not understanding, sure she was, she was the most wonderful woman on the face of the earth. But then he realized and said, "Wait, but you thought I might brag about this? Or have Winston do my bragging for me?"

"Well not exactly like that," she said. "But I didn't know you wouldn't want him to. Or if you discussed your...business with him."

"And yet you made love with me," he said.

"I wanted you," she said, startlingly honest and not embarrassed at all, scouting his face for a reaction.

"Ooh," he said, so flustered and flattered he didn't have anything sensible to say about it, and he felt himself blush again. She smiled.

They drank their coffee in silence, she offered him a croissant and he started nibbling on it. He didn't know what to do, what to say, but he understood her current apprehensive approach better than he had done waking up. She was pondering consequences already, and as unfair as it was there always seemed to be more consequences for the woman than man. And thinking she had wanted him so much she had risked being the next on his bragging list, a thought that still made him grimace internally, he was immensely flattered, how could he not be.

He went to the bathroom, and in addition to peeing he washed his face in the sink, and then he washed his genitalia.

He went back to bed, a little ashamed to be naked in the bright sunlight but not wanting to dress if there was a chance of a rerun yet. They drank the rest of the coffee, and then they sat looking at each other.

She was really beautiful in the morning light. It glimmered in her long, black hair and it didn't make her look pale but tinted her skin with copper. The light blue nightgown was pretty on her. She was so slim and nimble, with just the right amount of curves for her body type. And her smile was simply stunning.

Now she wasn't smiling, though. She looked at him, his eyes, then down his chest, his stomach, and her gaze lingered on the cover under which his penis was. She extended her arm, touching his lower abdomen lightly, there was a trail of hair starting at about halfway between his navel and his penis, trailing down to his pubic hair. She touched it lightly, the light brown curly wisps of hair, he looked at her doing it, and he said, a little huskily, "So do you have somewhere you have to be today?"

"Not until evening," she said and lifted her beautiful dark eyes to his. "Why?"

"I was hoping we might do it again," he said, it was blunt but he was now past this lingering probing to see if the other one wanted it, and she smiled.

"So do you have somewhere you have to be today?"

"Not until you throw me out," he said and smiled.

She looked at him and smiled, but she still wasn't going for it, and he wondered why. There was something about her, she was blunt and unashamed but somehow it felt rehearsed, or like she was quoting someone else's words. Then again he himself was more shy and bashful now in this bright morning light and not being drunk anymore. He thought about her, and then he thought he got it, and said, "Is it too bright for you? I didn't think I'm that bad to look at, although this light does make me look real pale."

She smiled. Her hand was still on his lower abdomen, and she said, "You're not bad to look at. "

"Thank you," he said seriously. "But you don't want me to look at you?"

She shrugged a little. He wondered what she was still so shy about, considering they had just made love full nude in the previous night, but he knew better than to reason or belittle.

"You wanna blindfold me?" he asked.

She lifted her eyes to look at him, surprised, and asked, "You'd let me do that?"

"Well I don't want you to be uncomfortable," he said. "So yeah, if you wanna. But I can just leave as well, I don't want to be pushy if you don't want it."

"No, I do," she said.

They were silent, looking at each other, and then he said, "Wanna try that? I'd promise you I'll keep my eyes shut but you wouldn't believe me."

She smiled. "You probably wonder why I'm so anxious?"

"I just hope you wouldn't have to be, with me," he said.

She got up, her hand grazed his penis passing over it as she moved, he twitched. She walked to the other side of the room and leaned to rummage through her suitcase. He looked at the curve of her bottom and thought, oh please, and he felt himself getting harder.

She got back to bed with a violet scarf of some thin fabric. She kneeled on the bed, straddling him, and he knew she'd feel his erection under her crotch, but she didn't react to it or comment on it. She folded the scarf and then she looked at his eyes, and said, "Thanks for understanding."

He didn't say anything, and she lifted the scarf to his eyes and tied it gently at the back of his head. He adjusted it slightly, and then he smiled and said, "Does this color look good on me?"

"Sure does," she said. "You're so pretty in it."

She got up from his lap and he missed her already. It also brought to focus how the power shifted with the blindfold. He couldn't see her anymore, couldn't read her expression, didn't know how to continue. He heard her moving in the room. He laid down, adjusted the blindfold so the knot didn't press on the back of his head, and waited.