Killing Kate (16 page)

“Very,” I say.  In response I feel
the brush begin tracing around my stomach.  I lie back and concentrate on the
strokes, the smoothness of the wet brush, the smell of the paint, and Justin’s
steady breathing.  He works down my stomach and down around my left thigh.  He
lifts my leg and holds it on his shoulder as he twists the paintbrush around
it.  “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done,” I tell him.

“Flip over on your stomach,” is all
he says.  He sounds focused, and I comply and shiver a little.  The paint seems
colder against my back which has warmed up against the blanket I’ve been lying
on.  “Are you cold?” Justin asks.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.  “Keep
touching me and I get warmer.”

“Easy for me,” Justin says,
laughing.  “It’s hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“So touch me,” I whisper, sighing
deeply.  He is using a thicker brush, and it’s like a massage.  “I mean with
your hands, though I like the brush, too.”

“I’m almost finished,” he replies. 
“I just want to add some detail.”

“Next time you should use edible
paints or chocolate or something,” I suggest.  “Then you can lick it off me.”

“After that meal?” Justin laughs. 
“I’d prefer my dessert to be one that burns calories, not one that adds more.”

I laugh.  “Hurry up.  I want to see
your work.”

“It’s nothing amazing,” he tells
me.  “The canvas definitely exceeds the beauty of the painting.”

My cheeks feel warm, like I’m
blushing.  Then I feel Justin’s hands against the sides of my face.  He kisses
me again slowly and deeply and I accept his tongue with my own.  Then he is untying
the blindfold in the back of my head.  “All finished?” I ask.  I can see his
face next to mine.  In response he pushes my hair back and kisses me again, but
harder this time.

He helps me stand up and brings me
to a mirror he has hanging up on the wall.  “For models,” he explains.

“So apparently I’m not the only
naked woman who’s been in your basement.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever been
able to touch this way,” he explains.

My body has been transformed into a
peacock of blues, dark red and greens, covering my torso and trailing down and
around my leg.  It’s like a second skin and I feel as though I’ve been made
over.  I can’t help but smile at the reflection and barely recognize the girl
in the mirror.  “Do you have a camera?” I turn to him and ask.  “This is
amazing, you should really capture it.”

“I’ll never forget it,” he tells
me.  He walks away and gets a camera that has a lens that looks like it weighs
400 pounds.  He leads me over to a black backdrop and drapes a velvety black
covering over an old chaise lounge.  He positions me with my right arm over my
breasts and my right leg positioned “so it’s not an obscene photograph,” Justin
explains.  He moves some lights around me so I feel like a fashion model and he
starts to snap photos.

“I had no idea you were into
photography,” I say.

“Really?” he said.  “That’s how I
make the majority of my money.  Weddings, public events, advertising, textbooks,
whatever people will hire me for.”

“You know, I never even bothered to
find out what you do for a living,” I say.  “I just assumed you had some
service job like Devin does to pay his bills.”

“You should become a model,” Justin
tells me.  “You have the body for it, and you definitely have the face for it. 
Plus you’re tall.  And you could probably make more money than working in a
strip club.”

“I have yet to actually work in a
strip club,” I reply.  “I was a cage dancer at a legitimate dance club.”

“Oh, of course,” he says, smiling. 
“Seriously, I have a fashion shoot coming up, and if you want I could talk to
the designer and show him these as a portfolio shot.  These are going to look
amazing.”

“Maybe with the help of Photoshop,”
I say, smirking.  Justin keeps snapping photos and I hold my pose.  “When
you’re done, you should come over here and get in the picture with me.”

“Who’s going to take the picture?”
he asks.  But he puts the camera down on a table and walks over to me.  I can
see through his shorts he is aroused.  I sit up and help him with his zipper
and his hands stop me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“I don’t want you to do anything
you don’t want to do,” he tells me.  I look up into his dark green eyes and he
looks so serious.  I smile.

“Of course I want you,” I say.  “I
want to make you feel the same way you’ve just made me feel.”  He drops his
hands and lets me unbutton his shorts and he helps me by pulling them off.  He
is swollen and ready.  I sit up and pull off his shirt for him and pull him
down to the chaise with me.  My lips start at his collarbone and I push him
back gently and leave a trail of kisses down to his waist.  He utters a low
groan and his hands bury themselves in my hair.  He pushes my head gently back.

“No,” he says, and he pushes me
back.  “Let me do everything for you.  I don’t want you to do anything for
me.”  Without a word I let him move over me and he positions his body against
mine.  My legs move apart and I feel how hard he is as he slides inside of me. 
We move together, but every time I move my hips he stops me.  “Slow down,” he
whispers in my ear.  “I want to make this last with you.”

I kiss him on the mouth, and as his
tongue moves inside my mouth, I feel him throbbing inside of me.  My arms wrap
around his back and I am holding onto his shoulders.  With every slow thrust he
rubs against my clit and the intensity is building inside of me.  Within
minutes, we are simultaneously exploding and kissing with such intensity and
need.  Then I ruin everything and burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me, pulling
away, but I seize up and pull him back toward me.  I cry for a minute, holding
him hard against me and stroking his hair as he strokes mine.

“You’re right,” I finally whisper
when I can breathe again.  “It’s different to be loved than to be fucked.”

Devin got called to work and won’t
be home until early tomorrow.  Justin takes me home, even though I want to stay
and spend the night with him, and all of tomorrow and the next day and the day
after that.  It seems like a horrible idea to leave him right now.  “Devin
knows we were out together,” he explains to me while I am showering off the beautiful
paint.  Justin is sitting in the bathroom keeping me company.  I am sadly
watching the beautiful blue and green swirl down the drain.  “I don’t want him
to think badly of me for keeping you all night.”  After a lot of protestation
on my part, some towel drying and a lot of kissing, I relent and let Justin
take me home.

The entire ride home I feel
euphoric, as though I’m floating on air.  Everything around me seems different,
like nothing is actually happening.  One of the many reasons I hate being
medicated is because I don’t get to experience moments like these where
everything is beautiful and wonderful in the world.  Instead, everything is
just the same, and I just carry out actions to survive.  It’s no way to live. 
This is living.  I look at the man next to me and smile, feeling content.  I
don’t know if he’s my boyfriend now and I don’t care, but I’m happy.  Devin and
I will work things out, Justin will be around, maybe I’ll get my shit together
and go to school.  Life is good.  Not to mention, I don’t have to go to the
Laundromat to do my laundry anymore.  Seriously, how could life get any better?
  That feeling ends as soon as I get out of the car with Justin and approach
the house.  I can tell something has happened.  The front door is wide open. 
Devin’s bike isn’t parked in front, and I know he’s not supposed to be home. 
The front porch light is out.  “Justin,” I say.  “Someone’s broken in to the
house.”  I just know it.

“Get back in the car and lock the
door,” he tells me.  He hands me the keys and I walk quickly back to the car
and close and lock the doors, thankful for Louisa’s lecture to Justin on how to
treat a lady.  My heart is pounding in my chest as I watch Justin assess the
broken porch light and see from what he’s inspecting that the window is broken
as well.  He walks through the open front door.  Lights turn on and I wait a
few minutes, breathing hard.  I turn the car on and decide it won’t kill me to
roll down the window and smoke while I wait.  At least it won’t kill me
instantly.  I’m so tense, I shake as I put my cigarette in my mouth with one
hand and attempt to flick my lighter several times with my other hand.

Justin comes out of the front door
and motions to me to come inside.  I step out of his car, put my cigarette out
and lock the doors.  “I checked the house,” he says to me as I walk up the
front path and hand him his car keys.  “Whoever got in is gone.  I don’t know
what’s been taken but it’s a mess.”

“Shit, really?” I say, nervous to
see inside the house.  I’m not worried about anything valuable being gone. 
Devin and I don’t actually have anything that’s worth much.  At least to my
knowledge we don’t.  Devin could be keeping something else from me, but neither
one of us could really afford anything of major value.

“Take a look,” Justin says, letting
me go inside first.  “I’ll be right behind you.”  I can see what he means by a
mess.  Drawers are open.  A bookcase is knocked over.  Cabinets have been
ransacked in the kitchen.  The couch cushions are strewn around the floor in
the front room.  I peek into Devin’s room and see that the box of canvases he
stashed away is out and pictures are all over.  A few are ripped, which makes
my heart pound even faster.  I’m sure Devin will shed a few tears over them. 
Then I go to my room and see that it’s definitely the worst.

“Holy hell,” I say.  “I might have
mentioned I’m a bad housekeeper, but this is unusual even for me.”

“Jenna, I’m so sorry,” Justin
says.  “Do you want me to call the police?”

I nod reluctantly.  I hate the
police and getting them involved in any way just makes my heart sink, but it
seems necessary.  “That’s probably a good idea.”  Why didn’t I just beg Justin
to let me stay the night as his place?  Then I wouldn’t be dealing with this
nightmare until tomorrow morning.   “Stay in here with me,” I say to Justin. 
It’s meant to be a question but it comes out as a demand.   Justin nods and leans
against the wall and pulls out his phone from his pocket.  I begin to look
around my room and I drop to my knees on the floor, rummaging through
everything.  Oh fuck, I think, as I pick something up.  A DVD case.  A movie
that I’d rather Justin not know I have.  And another one.  And a bunch of my
“toys”.  My entire box of shame is all over the place, I realize.  I look over
at Justin and see he is watching me, but he doesn’t say anything as he waits on
the phone to speak to the police.  All of the DVD cases are opened and empty.  I
feel a bit sick to think someone else knows what’s been stashed in the privacy
of my room.  So apparently the only thing I can tell that was stolen was my
porn.  Why the hell would someone take my porn?  “This is weird,” I hear myself
saying.  I’m embarrassed and confused.  I hear Justin report the break in and
give out our address.  When he hangs up the phone he looks at me silently for a
minute.

“So, what are you noticing?” he
asks me.  “Were those movies here before?”

“Um, they’re mine, if that’s what
you wanted to know,” I reply.  “Or were.  The cases are here but the DVDs
aren’t.  Not like a few dirty movies are a big deal.  I mean, I don’t need them
back.”

“Interesting,” Justin says.  I
blush and I don’t really know what he’s referring to.  I don’t ask.  He comes
to sit down on the ground next to me.  “Forced Entry 18,” he reads off.  “So,
um, what kind of porn is that?”

“Rape,” I say quietly.  I look down
at the case and find myself incredibly uncomfortable.  The DVD in my hands
looks disgusting to me now.

“I see,” he replies.  “Kind of
ironic considering what happened here.  Maybe your intruder is making a statement.” 
He looks at me and I am about to cry.  He takes the DVD cover out of my hands
and holds me.  I feel a sob shake my entire body.  “Hey, it’s okay.  I’ll stay
with you tonight and help you clean up.  When does Devin get back?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, wiping my
eyes with the back of my hand, leaving a black streak of makeup behind.  “Tomorrow
morning.  Or rather, this morning.”  I realize it’s well past midnight.  “Let’s
get out of this room.”

“Okay,” Justin says.  We go back to
the front room and put the cushions back on the sofa and sit down.  He holds me
and I cry for a bit.  The lights outside and the knock on the door indicate the
police have arrived.  Two men come to the door.  Justin lets them in and
proceeds to tells them how we came home and found the house in disarray.  They
ask us a few questions and I am able to answer with yes and no and the time we
got home.  They take a look around and one guy makes a few notes.

“I should call Devin,” I say to
Justin.  “He’s going to flip out.”

The police rummage around some more
and one approaches Justin and me on the sofa.  He introduces himself as Officer
Hardy, and he is short, stocky and most definitely Irish.  “So what exactly was
taken?” he asks in that thick South side accent I usually associate with city
workers, cops and firemen.