Kathleen O'Reilly - Intoxicating!

Catherine Montefiore, walking vagina. That was her.

“Don’t say anything. It’s better that way. I’ll think more highly of you if you don’t try and wangle your way out of this.”

Soullessly, he stared at her, and again she felt it, that complete isolation of his, but now it made more sense. It took a cold man to do what he did.

He nodded curtly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you up front.”

“You should have,” she replied tightly. Thankfully, she heard a car horn. “What amazing timing. Taxi’s here.”

He donned his ring, slung the duffel over his shoulder and gave her one last look. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I liked being with you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that. It felt good. You should know that.”

Catherine fisted her hands behind her back, her mouth scrunched together. She didn’t want to yell. Not yet. Not until he was gone. What an easy mark. For that she hated herself nearly as much as she hated him.

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear that,” she told him, waiting until he walked out the door and left.

After she heard the rev of the taxi pulling away, Catherine went to take a shower. A long shower because right then she needed nothing more than to get clean.

Sadly, she knew the shower wasn’t going to help.

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