Take It With Me
Day After Tomorrow
Kitty was dancing with Tom.
They were on that casino dance floor, twirling around to a sultry saxophone, alone in their dance. All of a sudden, Tom stopped, looking down at her.
“You’re beautiful, kid,” he said. She smiled, slipping her arms around his waist.
“So are you,” she said, swaying back and forth. He laughed, then placed his hand –his big, rough, warm hand on her chin, tilting her face up. She smiled, and then his lips were on hers, soft and passionate. His stubble rubbed against her chin and she sighed, parting her lips. They kissed for a moment, the slowest, sweetest, best kiss Kitty had ever had, then he leaned back, taking a breath.
“I’ll never leave you, Kitty. Never. Let me stay with you. Can I stay with you?”
“Of course, Tom. Of course you can,” Kitty sighed, laying her head on his chest. They swayed for a few more moments, alone on the wooden dance floor. He moved his hands to her lower back and pressed against her, his hips squashed up against hers and his mouth warm on her neck.
He rocked her back and forth, and Kitty was lost, lost in the music and lost in him.
And then…
Kitty woke with a start, hearing a siren blare right outside her window.
“Damn.”
She whimpered, rubbing her eyes, cursing her subconscious for churning out such a sickening dream. Like something like that would ever happen in real life.
And besides, why couldn’t she dream of Joe?
She was in love with Joe, not Tom.
But she had slept with Tom, not Joe.
A flush of heat washed over Kitty and she felt embarrassed and ashamed and utterly used. Joe was a virgin. Not like her, and certainly not like Tom. She knew that Tom had slept with women. Heck, he had slept with a woman while she was passed out cold on a bathroom floor. He certainly had no qualms about sharing a bed with a person. But Joe… she and Joe both had pledged to remain pure. They had decided that it was going to be hard, but they could do it.
Kitty snorted.
Apparently she couldn’t. And now, a man that she didn’t love was the one who took her virginity. Not Joe.
But no.
No. No, no, no! She wasn’t going to think like that today. Taking a deep breath and stiffening her upper lip, she crawled out of bed and lurched into the bathroom.
“No. Not gonna think like that today,” she said, turning on the shower. Stepping back into the hotel room, she started picking up the old sheets and the lamp and the Book of Mormon and the coasters that were all littered across the floor. She made the bed and squirted a little perfume in the air and stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
Looked better already.
Humming under her breath, she took off her clothes and laid them on the bed, folding them neatly. Turning to walk to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Disgust washed over her, mixed with a strange portion of desire.
She could still see marks from Tom’s nails running down her back.
“Not gonna think about it!” she said, a little louder this time. Stepping into the shower, she let the water run hot over her, let it sting in the small scrapes on her back and her shoulders.
“California girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top!” she sang, the song reminding her of summer and happiness and the first chorus she and her Sorority sisters had done together. The demons started rushing back, and Kitty sang even louder to keep them at bay.
When she was done washing herself, she toweled off and slipped into her jeans. They weren’t too bad off. She put on her bra and squirted on some Evening In Paris that did nothing but remind her of Tom and slipped on his shirt, which also did nothing but remind her of him, and then she brushed her teeth and got the key he’d left her and put on her dirty foam flip flops and set out the door to explore New Orleans, circa 1974.
But before she could get out the door, a realization hit her. She sank down on the floor, her head in her hands.
“Happy birthday to me. Happy freaking 21st birthday to me.”
They were on that casino dance floor, twirling around to a sultry saxophone, alone in their dance. All of a sudden, Tom stopped, looking down at her.
“You’re beautiful, kid,” he said. She smiled, slipping her arms around his waist.
“So are you,” she said, swaying back and forth. He laughed, then placed his hand –his big, rough, warm hand on her chin, tilting her face up. She smiled, and then his lips were on hers, soft and passionate. His stubble rubbed against her chin and she sighed, parting her lips. They kissed for a moment, the slowest, sweetest, best kiss Kitty had ever had, then he leaned back, taking a breath.
“I’ll never leave you, Kitty. Never. Let me stay with you. Can I stay with you?”
“Of course, Tom. Of course you can,” Kitty sighed, laying her head on his chest. They swayed for a few more moments, alone on the wooden dance floor. He moved his hands to her lower back and pressed against her, his hips squashed up against hers and his mouth warm on her neck.
He rocked her back and forth, and Kitty was lost, lost in the music and lost in him.
And then…
Kitty woke with a start, hearing a siren blare right outside her window.
“Damn.”
She whimpered, rubbing her eyes, cursing her subconscious for churning out such a sickening dream. Like something like that would ever happen in real life.
And besides, why couldn’t she dream of Joe?
She was in love with Joe, not Tom.
But she had slept with Tom, not Joe.
A flush of heat washed over Kitty and she felt embarrassed and ashamed and utterly used. Joe was a virgin. Not like her, and certainly not like Tom. She knew that Tom had slept with women. Heck, he had slept with a woman while she was passed out cold on a bathroom floor. He certainly had no qualms about sharing a bed with a person. But Joe… she and Joe both had pledged to remain pure. They had decided that it was going to be hard, but they could do it.
Kitty snorted.
Apparently she couldn’t. And now, a man that she didn’t love was the one who took her virginity. Not Joe.
But no.
No. No, no, no! She wasn’t going to think like that today. Taking a deep breath and stiffening her upper lip, she crawled out of bed and lurched into the bathroom.
“No. Not gonna think like that today,” she said, turning on the shower. Stepping back into the hotel room, she started picking up the old sheets and the lamp and the Book of Mormon and the coasters that were all littered across the floor. She made the bed and squirted a little perfume in the air and stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
Looked better already.
Humming under her breath, she took off her clothes and laid them on the bed, folding them neatly. Turning to walk to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Disgust washed over her, mixed with a strange portion of desire.
She could still see marks from Tom’s nails running down her back.
“Not gonna think about it!” she said, a little louder this time. Stepping into the shower, she let the water run hot over her, let it sting in the small scrapes on her back and her shoulders.
“California girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top!” she sang, the song reminding her of summer and happiness and the first chorus she and her Sorority sisters had done together. The demons started rushing back, and Kitty sang even louder to keep them at bay.
When she was done washing herself, she toweled off and slipped into her jeans. They weren’t too bad off. She put on her bra and squirted on some Evening In Paris that did nothing but remind her of Tom and slipped on his shirt, which also did nothing but remind her of him, and then she brushed her teeth and got the key he’d left her and put on her dirty foam flip flops and set out the door to explore New Orleans, circa 1974.
But before she could get out the door, a realization hit her. She sank down on the floor, her head in her hands.
“Happy birthday to me. Happy freaking 21st birthday to me.”