Shackled And Confused Ch 02

Pierre had first met Catharine on a Tuesday. A Tuesday night in April, to be exact. He remembered this clearly because no day since had he been able to get her off his mind. She dominated his thoughts like a drug he had to have another hit of, and another, and another. The first time he'd seen her, she was arm candy of a movie director at a fancy party in LA. He heard her laugh first, or so the narrative he spun for himself began. Her laugh was so full of life and light, he quickly turned to see who could be making this beautiful, musical laughter and their eyes met.

Fireworks, fireworks as their eyes met, or so Pierre liked to recall. He'd never seen eyes quite so green, almost a blue spruce green, with tiny flecks of amber. It was then he'd fallen under her spell. He made his way towards her, though he was not sure what he could say to this beautiful woman that would be worthy of listening to.

Once in reach, she'd instantly grabbed his hand. "I'm Catharine." Her voice was rich, alto and smooth, dripping with sexuality, like Catharine herself.

"Pierre," he replied, shaking her hand and trying not to become completely aroused by the touch of her supple skin on his.

And that was it. As suddenly as she'd appeared in his life, she was called to another conversation by another interesting guest. What on earth could Pierre do that would hold the attention of Catharine? Probably nothing. But it was too late, she was a part of him now, one he could not shake.

Days drifted into weeks, weeks into months and Catharine still filled Pierre's mind. He'd see her here or there, parties and premieres, but their interactions were limited and brief, far too brief, for Pierre.

At night, alone in his head, she was his. He'd push her down on his bed, as she writhed, resistant beneath him, he'd press himself into her, listening to her sighs and squeals, deeper and deeper into her depths, kissing her neck, her breasts, tongue on her collarbone, licking lower, salty sweat, squirming pressure, he'd grab her wrists, call her a slut, and continue his assault. She liked it this way, he knew it, even if she didn't. She'd buck beneath him, he'd pin her hips with his body, pressing in, deeper and deeper and finally, finally he'd lose himself in her and to her. Lying alone once again, he'd drift to sleep, but even in his dreams, he could not escape the lovely Catharine.

Life went on around Pierre, though he paid it very little attention. He was lost in a world where Catharine was queen. He'd think of her at the worst times, standing in line at the bank, sitting in the paper gown at the doctor's office, even during his first root canal. His visions of Catharine seemed to do more to numb the pain than the anesthesia.

As months pressed past, he realized he had to cure himself and that the only cure would be Catharine herself. He started preparing what he would say when he saw her next, what witty lines could he use to get her to agree to dinner with him, that was all he wanted, a dinner.

An invite to the biggest party of the year arrived and he knew that would be his chance. He spent days planning exactly how to invite her, the things he would say, the way he would look at her, the way she'd respond with delight. "Dinner, I'd love to!" He could hear her voice in his head already.

The night arrived with little fanfare. She was there as he'd hoped. Tonight she was dressed in red, the color of love. He knew he had to just go for it, the more he thought about it the more of a chance he'd chicken out. He walked across the room with his heart pounding out of his chest.

"Pierre!" She greeted him with a smile. He felt he may faint as she remembered his name.

"Catharine," he stammered, "I...would you....we should...let's...I..." he stopped, this was not his plan. He took a deep breath, "Catharine, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?"

A smile crept across her face, a smile that filled up his heart so full he felt it might burst. "I would like that, Pierre. I would like that."

Pierre was walking on air that evening, he laughed his loudest, smiled his biggest and told the best jokes. He had a special secret, and soon, he would have that one thing he wanted most: a dinner with Catharine.