Selena Kitt - Coupling Two .More Filthy Erotica for Couples

I raised my eyebrows. “Finale gift?” Theo was known for his prudence when it came to putting on shows. My entire costume had been acquired from a Salvation Army thrift store.

“Sort of.” Her eyes were bright. “He’s got boxes of stuff in his office he’s giving away. He doesn’t want the university to get any of it.”

“Holy shit!” My eyes widened and I laughed. “He’s retiring isn’t he? Sly old fox.”

She just smiled. “Go see him.”

I shook my head, heading back toward his office. He growled a “Come in!” when I knocked.

“Hey, ol’ man,” I said, crossing my arms and surveying the stacks of boxes in his office. “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Sebastian!” He poked his head up from behind his desk. “You talked to Anne?”

“She didn’t tell me a thing.” I grinned.

“Good!” It came out ‘Goot.’ Theo’s English was ‘goot’ but his accent was still very German, and he often slipped back into the language when he was angry. We’d all been berated in German more times than we could count-I was probably the only one, though, who had been called a “verfluchter hurensohn” and knew that it actually meant some approximation of “stupid son of a bitch!”

“Anything you want.” He nodded at the pile of boxes. “You choose.”

“I’d rather have you stay,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He shrugged one shoulder at me. “Can I help it if Italian men are opinionated?”

“Ah.” I poked through the box closest to me. It was full of the props we had used for Don Giovanni. “Sal wants to go back to Italy?”

Theo sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking off his round glasses to rub his eyes with his thumbs. “Europe isn’t what it was.”

“Nothing is.” I sifted through another box. God, the memories. These were the props from my very first performance as a freshman in Le Boheme, as a lowly Studenti. I went over to his desk and sat on the edge, swinging my Marc-Antoine sandal. It looked great under the toga.

“Truth is…” He put his glasses back on. “They’re bringing in someone else. An upstart-some kid-they want to modernize, the dean says.”

I frowned. “Great. We’ll be doing Carmen using cell phones and wearing leather chaps. They think modernizing means cultural rape.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Theo waved his hand at the boxes. “Anyway, it’s done. Take what you want. I wanted you and Anne to have first pick. After that, it’s to the vultures.”

“I don’t want anything.” I slid off his desk. “Just glad next year is my last.”

“Maybe you can come to Italy?” Theo asked and I glanced back at him. Singing at Teatro alla Scala? I could only dream of it.

“If that’s an offer, I’ll take it.” I noticed a sandal very similar to the one I was wearing sticking out of a box in the corner and I went over to investigate.

“If I can make one to you, I will,” Theo replied, standing.

The box looked like rejected props from “Cleopatre”-there were all sorts of Egyptian relics piled in with gold headdresses and jewelry.

“Where’d this come from?” I lifted the box and tilted it in his direction.

“Curio shop in town.” He leaned over to look out the window. It was still an hour until show time and the parking lot was empty. “Just junk we couldn’t use.”

I investigated further, past the tangled gold chains and vases decorated with hyrogliephs and little gold pyramids made in China. At the bottom, I found a small statue of a svelte cat. It had a winged figure carved on the front. I turned it over, looking for its “Made in Taiwan” sticker, but saw the word “Bast” carved into the bottom. It was perfect for Katie-I knew the minute I saw it that she would love it.

“I’ll take this.” I held up the little two-inch figure between my thumb and forefinger.

“Whatever you like,” Theo replied, his gaze still scanning the parking lot. “Ah, here’s someone. Our finale will at least have an audience.”

I saw the car and knew it was Katie. I headed for the door, smiling at his words, the cat figure still in my hand. “Isn’t that the best we can ever hope for?”

* * * *

“Malcolm, you’re an ass!” It was Katie’s voice, and she sounded-well, scared. I hesitated just a moment outside our door, wondering what in the hell her ex-boyfriend was doing in our apartment. I knew the guy by name and reputation, but we’d never actually met. “Get out!”

“All right, doll.” A guy’s voice. Obviously Malcolm. “Take it easy. I’m going.”

The door opened and I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Testosterone. This guy was twice my size, which would have been formidable enough, but he was also wearing leather chaps and chains and resembled a younger, less gentle Grizzly Adams. He didn’t even look at me as he shoved by, using his shoulder to knock me out of the way as he headed past. I stared after him as he clomped down the stairs, straight-arming the screen door on the way out.

“Sorry.” Katie apologized from behind me and I turned to look at her. She was hugging herself like she was cold, although it was still eighty degrees.

“Are you okay?” I frowned back at the door. I suspected Malcolm was the reason Katie was scared of everything all the time-especially sex. Having now experienced him in person, I started fantasizing about buying myself a gun. “What was he doing here?”

She shrugged, heading to the stove. “He just wanted some old stuff I still have of his somewhere. I told him I’d try to find it. I think we put it in that closet in the laundry room.”

Whatever she was cooking smelled even better in here than it did outside. I should have been used to the cats-they were everywhere-stretched out on the sofa, curled into those little cat towers, there was even one lying belly-up in the middle of the kitchen table. But after six months, it still annoyed me.

“Anyway, welcome home.” Katie look flustered, leaning over to give me a kiss as I put my backpack full of books on the floor and she led me into our little living room. She shooed a cat off a chair for me, and I sat in a thick pile of white hair. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do we have any Coke?” I asked as the white cat I’d rescued leapt back up into my lap, her blue eyes checking me out as she turned around and flicked her tail past my nose. I wanted to push her off, but I knew Katie wouldn’t like it, so I tolerated the paws kneading against my thigh. “Why in the hell did you let that asshole in the house?”

“I bought some Coke just for you.” She stood in front of the open refrigerator on one bare foot, the other tucked behind her ankle. I could see her through the doorway.

“Don’t let him in the house anymore, okay Katie?” I winced as the cat’s claws dug into my leg. Katie handed me a can of Coke and sat across from me on the sofa with a glass of wine. That surprised me. Katie didn’t drink.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, looking toward the door. “He just kind of pushed his way in…”

I popped the lid and sucked off the foam. The cat perked up at the noise and then wiggled her nose against the can.

“He’s always been an ass like that.” She sighed, holding her wine glass against the side of her neck.

“That’s obvious.” I frowned, leaning back away from the cat in my lap and discovering another one draped over the back of my chair. “But I don’t like him in our apartment.”

“I don’t either, Sebastian.” She took a big swig of wine. I watched her slim throat working as she swallowed. She let out a soft burp, smiling apologetically. “I told you-he just pushed his way in.”

“Well next time call me,” I snapped as the black cat lying behind me starting making his way across my shoulder. “Or call the fucking cops.”