Kate nudged the door close with her hip and kicked off her worn court shoes, struggling all the while with several bags of groceries in her arms.
"Is that you, missy?" the gravely voice was barely audible above the blaring of the television coming from the living room.
Kate sighed as she moved toward the voice. "Hi, pa," she said softly, leaning over the back of the sofa to briefly kiss the greying hair. Her father never turned from where he slouched on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the TV where a re-run game of football was being televised. The smell of liquor, stale cigarettes and unwashed flesh was overpowering in the stuffy room.
"Coming home all hours, what must the neighbours think?" her father grumbled.
"That I've just finished work, pa," she replied heavily, heading toward the kitchen with the groceries.
Everything seemed to be an effort, unpacking the groceries, opening the cupboard, making room in the fridge. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, her uneasy slumber filled with dreams vivid and disturbing in their intensity.
"I see it in their eyes. The Maguire girl can't keep her legs shut, the filthy slut. Just like her mother."
"What boys, pa?" she asked tiredly, wondering why she bothered. It was the same each night. Between working to support her father and herself, she had little time for boys. Other girls her age were out partying and dating, acting the carefree eighteen year-olds that they were.
She could barely remember her mother, who died when she was just two. She had only one photo of her mother that Kate had salvaged the night her father, in a drunken rage, had burned them all in an attempt to purge the memory of the woman who had finally escaped him in death. She had hidden it from her father ever since, taping it under her chest of drawers and only taking it out when he was passed out or asleep. Even now she could recall the faded image of the beautiful woman with long golden hair and soft creamy skin gazing over her shoulder at the camera with sad dark blue eyes.
She ignored the rest of her father's mutterings as she finished unpacking the groceries. She was too tired to eat, and just wanted a hot shower and to crawl into her soft bed. She made her way back through the living room to the hall. "Night, pa," she called on her way, but it fell on deaf ears. Her father never turned his head from the television. She climbed the steps tiredly.
The hot water was a blessing as she stood beneath its spray, letting it beat down on the crown of her head and shoulders as she leaned her forehead against the cool tiles. She watched the rivulets run down over the small thrust of her breasts, the tender swell of her belly and down between her thighs before winding around the drain.
She closed her eyes, feeling the tension wash away as she slowly lathered her body with soap.
"Kate."
The back of her neck prickled, and her hands stopped where they gently soaped between her thighs.
"Go away," she whispered, knowing the deep husky voice to be a taunting illusion. She had been haunted by it for weeks, a soft caressing whisper that hit low in the belly, making her yearn for something she didn't understand.
"Katalina."
Only when she was tired or at her weakest did she hear him while she was awake. She had told no one, instinctively knowing she wasn't crazy, yet unable to explain why she felt this way.
"Please..." Goose pimples rose on the smooth skin of her shoulder, as though lips had gently brushed her there. "Just go away." Wasn't it enough that he filled her dreams, weaving a sensual spell around her aching inexperienced body?
She waited several moments before breathing a sigh of relief when only the pressure of the water could be heard in the tiny bathroom.
She let the water to stream over her, washing away the last of the scented bubbles clinging to her soft skin. She turned off the taps and reached for a white fluffy towel and slowly dried herself, dabbing at her moist skin, before quickly running the hair dryer over her long golden waves to take away their dampness.
She pulled on a large oversized T-shirt that reached mid-thigh and a pair of white cotton panties before padding silently down the dark hallway to her tiny corner room overlooking the small garden.
A blissful sigh escaped her as sunk into the welcoming warmth of her bed, letting sleep overtake her.
She moaned in her sleep as the cool hand slid up her thigh, a thumb teasing the soft inner flesh as it came to rest mere inches from her panties. She imagined she felt the bed shift, a cool hand brushing back the soft tendrils from the side of her neck as he leaned over her to breath in the scent of her skin.
"You smell like violets," he whispered as his mouth gently closed over her lobe.
She moaned, unable to resist him in her dreams, turning her head as her mouth sought his. She whimpered as his lips settled softly over hers. The kiss was tender, gentle. Her arms slipped up over his shoulders, drawing him closer, loving the feel of her breasts crushed against his solid chest.
She arched, her body quivering as his hand slipped up under her shirt to cup her warm breast, a thumb brushing over the taut peak. "Oh."
She was jolted awake as the alarm pierced through her skull, and she flung out her arm, her fingers instinctively hitting the off button. She lay there a moment, her heart racing, her body throbbing. Her dreams were getting more vivid, more intense, and she felt as though she had barely slept a wink. She groaned as she crawled out of bed, feeling far from refreshed.
~*~
When she got home from work that evening her father was glued to the television with the empty container of his frozen microwave meal left lying on the floor. She would clean up tomorrow, she promised herself as headed up the stairs, unbuttoning her uniform as she went.
As she showered her mind played over work that day, grimacing as she remembered how that old woman had yelled at her for accidentally running an item twice through the scanner, and earning her a glower from the floor supervisor.
She crawled into bed, unable to find her top and not bothering to get out a clean one as she gloried in the softness of her bed. Her eyes had barely closed before sleep overcame her.
