by C. L. Black
“Oh-my-God! Fucking stupid fuckin’ piece of fucking shit! Like, what’s fucking wrong with this fuckin’ thing?” Fuck! Catherine glanced at Miss Christi before turning back to the window, banging her head. How come Granma isn’t telling me to stop saying fuck? My mom would have strangled me by now if she was here. I just don’t get it. I’m doing everything I can to piss Granny off and she just sits there acting like I’m still some sweet little five-year-old girl. If only she knew. That little girl is dead. She died a long time ago.
Her head banged against the window. “Fuck! Why are they doing this to me?”
The anger had made a break for it. Her repressed feelings escaped the torture chamber she built around her heart. Since seeing her parents at the cemetery, she struggled, trying to keep the emotions locked away. Her sadness, now strong in anger, was ready to break free. Her words shot out faster than the Acela was moving.
“Oh-my-God! Like, how can you? Like, be so fuckin’ happy, sitting there? We’re, like stuck on this, like, fuckin’ train, Oh-my-God! I’m like, fucking sick, and all I got like, to do today is, like, visit some like, stupid fucking grave and like, watch you, like, read on your dumb like, fuckin e-book! And like, Oh-my-God! You didn’t even like, say anything when that totally hot-for-me butch brought me the fuckin’ drink! I can’t believe you let me, like, drink it.” Catherine took a desperately needed deep breath and fell against the window, trying to conceal her tears.
Miss Christi set her Kindle in her lap. “Well, my dear. So wonderful you decided to join me. Do you wish me to answer your questions?” She reached for her bag.
She sniffled. “Yes.” A tear streaked down her painted cheek as she pulled her earbud and killed the music.
Miss Christi held out a tissue. “My dear Catherine, do you not care about me?”
Yes.
“Do you still, my dear?”
“Yes!” She snatched the tissue. “Yes, I want you to…talk to me, please. Why does she hate me?” Catherine wiped away some of her painted-on age.
“Well then. First things first, my dear Miss Black. You shall please apologize for that offensive outburst!” She offered another tissue.
“What? Oh. Sorry.” Catherine found that little girl. She wasn’t dead, just locked away, deep down inside. She started to cry.
“Sorry about what, my dear?” Miss Christi asked, a bit more sternly.
There was safety in Miss Christi’s stern yet compassionate tone. Catherine had to think, should I? Still sad but also apologetic, she responded. “I mean, I’m sorry I was rude to you, Grandma.” She let her face fall against the window with a thud.
Miss Christi put her Kindle to bed then reached over to take Catherine’s left hand. She squeezed gently, maintaining her hold. Catherine’s head lifted off the glass. She turned to face Grandma, managing a sad but honest smile.
“Oh my dear, please stop calling me Grandma. I find the label positively evil.”
“Well, what do you want me to call you?”
“Miss Christi will do.”
“Okay Grand— I mean, Miss Christi. And you can call me Cat, like my dad does, if you want.”
“What does your mother call you?”
“Oh, my mom calls me a lot of names. They all start with little. Little Slut! Whore! Hooker! Bitch! Take your pick. It doesn’t fucking matter. I don’t fucking care anymore.”
“What did she call you before you two got out of balance?”
“Huh? Oh. Her pet name for me was—” She choked back tears. “I was her, her little kitten.” Catherine felt herself drifting back. “She hasn’t called me that in a long time.”
“Do you miss being her little kitten?”
“Yeah. I miss the way me and my mom used to always talk and do stuff, before she went back to work. I hardly ever see her anymore. You know? It’s not like we’re poor. I’m not stupid.”
She was in a different place now; a place safe from the anger. It was also a place full with a great sadness. She was ten years old and her mom’s little kitten. Her mom was still, Mommy.
“Yes, my dear, I think I have some sense of how that must make you feel. Abandoned is one feeling that comes to mind. May I address you by the special name she bestowed on you? I would be most honored should you grant me that privilege, dear.”
“Yes, Miss Christi, You can call me that. But not the little part, okay? I’ll be your kitten. I mean, if it makes you happy.” Please.
“It does indeed, kitten. It’s been a long time since I last had a kitten.”
“Me too…My kitty, Squeaky, died last February.” The sadness was visible. “Don’t know what happened. Just found her, day after Valentines. Couldn’t walk or see. Vet said it was probably some stupid brain virus. My dad had them put her to sleep.” The kitten asked for another tissue.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear. I’ll add Squeaky to my prayers tonight.”
“Yeah, thanks, Gran—I mean, Miss Christi.” She smiled. “So, who did you go to visit at Arlington this morning anyway?”
“The one true love of my life, my dear.”
“Really? What was his name?” Fuck! I was such a little brat shit at the cemetery.
“No, my dear kitten,” Miss Christi paused, squeezing her new kitten’s hand, gaining her full attention. “Her name was, Sir Katherine Katrina Victoria Blachmann Black. The last sovereign, mistress, and true ruler of the royal House of Blachmann.” Miss Christi had announced her Katherine’s name proudly, as if she was announcing the President, or the Queen, or some other famous royal person. “Yes, dear, my Katherine was—”
“Catherine!” Her jaw dropped. She blurted, “No fuckin’ way!” Her brain went into a tailspin. Almost dizzy, she uttered, “You were a dyke!” She quickly turned to the safety of the window. Fuck me. Her face was on fire and her heart pumped hard, further feeding the flames.
“No need to be crude, my dear. I take it by the label, you disapprove of such relations?”
“Well, no, not really.” Regaining her stride, she eyed Miss Christi. “I’m just a little surprised, knowing you were, like, a lesbian.” Fuck me! She likes girls too.
“Why did you say, were a lesbian, dear?” She placed her other hand over Catherine’s. ”I don’t think I stopped being who I am because the one true love of my life died. Would you?”
“Well, I guess not.” She tried to appear understanding, placing her free hand over Miss Christi’s. “I never really thought about it. I mean, my lover dying or, that you old—err people still…you know, do it. Shit! Like, you know, I just never think of stuff like that. I kind of only think about how like, me and my friends think about stuff like that. Well, you know.” God! Shut up.
“Yes, my dear kitten, I think so. I may have just a bit of knowledge concerning how young people think. Did you know I earned my PhD in pediatric sexology?”
“What? Kid sex?”
She gave a comforting smile. “It’s true. I spent most of my life helping many young ladies, some not unlike you, my dear, to find their true selves at Blachmann Academy.” Miss Christi gave her a, ‘Don’t-worry, it’s-going-to-be-okay,’ smile then glanced down at Catherine’s boots. “They must be very old, dear. I wonder who else may have worn them. What journeys they may have taken, before they found their way to your lovely feet. I wonder what exciting tales they could tell us.”
“Yeah, they are pretty old, but I, well, I totally love them. But, I never thought much about who owned them before me.”
“Perhaps, someday you will tell me how the boots found you.”
“Someday…maybe.” Catherine turned back to the window. “Can you keep it a secret?”
Miss Christi didn’t answer. Pretending not to hear, she asked, “What’s that, dear?”
Why’d she say Sir Katherine? She turned back to ask, “Miss Christi, why’d you say, Sir? I mean, like, she was a woman, right?”
“Well, my dear, I’ll tell you all about it. You see dear, my Katherine was knighted by King Geor
ge, the sixth. On that day, she informed the King she was nobody’s Dame. She became the first woman to receive the style, Sir.” Miss Christi chuckled.
The world outside the window turned black. The lights flickered, and then the darkness was inside. They couldn’t see the other.
“Oh my!” She reached out, clutching her new kitten for comfort.
“What’s wrong?” asked Catherine, just as the lighting flickered and started back to life.
“Nothing, dear. I fear we’ve entered the tunnel under the Hudson. I’m not fond of dark places.”
“Don’t worry.” With remorse for her earlier self, Catherine took a firm hold and proclaimed, “Fear not, Miss Christi, your GoodKnight is here.” Her words contained something profound. She didn’t really understand. It was more like a feeling. As if her past could be her future. Her face gave away the pleasure she was feeling.
Miss Christi felt it too. Their relationship had turned a corner. She brightened with the Acela’s lights. “We’ll be at Penn Station very soon, my dear. We’ll have to continue our talk later.” She packed up her Kindle. “Gather your things, my dear. Our car is waiting.” Their train snaked its way from one track to another, finally arriving on track six. “Would you like me to take you shopping for a nice sexy outfit to wear to dinner this evening? Something that might better compliment your lovely stature, my dear kitten?”
“What?” More sexy than this? “Really?”
“A friend, dear. She operates a lovely fetish fashion boutique. Not far from the Waldorf.”
“What?” The kitten wasn’t sure she heard correctly. A fetish fashion boutique? Grandma’s not just a lesbo, she’s a kinky lesbo. “Dinner?” This keeps getting better. “Yeah, I guess. Sounds like fun.”
The stop was squeezed into the day’s agenda, well before Miss Christi spotted Katrina’s vintage outfit. Catherine’s mom had e-mailed her their daughter’s fashion model measurements; the same day that Catherine wore the boots and skirt to class. Also, on that day, Miss Christi and Kate reviewed the first week’s curriculum.
The next day, Miss Christi called her favorite designer and dear friend to discuss the kitten’s wardrobe needs. Her friend then sketched up and quickly tailored several outfits. Both felt certain Catherine would find each more desirable than her present ensemble. The new outfits were all specifically designed to complement the boots.
Kristin’s Kloset
New York, NY, USA, 15:56 local
The Mercedes pulled up in front of the Chrysler building. “Thank you, dear. We’ll be thirty minutes.”
“Very good, Mum. I’ll deliver your things to the Waldorf. Be back and waiting in exactly thirty. Have the princess text me if the plan changes.”
Miss Christi led the way. Since being restored to its original grandeur, the Chrysler’s lobby, with its Art Deco styling and massive murals, was a sight to behold.
Something’s up. Catherine’s guard rose. “Doesn’t look like any store to me. Hey, how’d what’s-her-name get here so fast?”
“Yes, Miss Wright is very resourceful. Don’t worry, my dear. I promise you won’t be disappointed. Elaine is a well-known designer and a very dear friend. I spoke with her last night before turning in.” Miss Christi reviewed Catherine’s figure. “I hope she got the measurements correct?” As they waited for the elevator, she studied the cheapish streetwalker getup. “Perhaps a bit too edgy for tonight though, my dear. Don’t worry. Elaine promised she could refine your intrepid ensemble without dulling its edge.”
“I’m not going to wear any shit I don’t like, you know.”
They entered the elevator. Miss Christi pressed the highest button.
She moaned, “Way up there?” Catherine could feel her dreaded nemesis slithering up her boots. By halfway up it had started to tighten around her long legs.
Pretending not to notice her kitten’s gathering panic, Miss Christi continued, “I’m certain she’ll have created something you’ll find acceptable. Something more worthy of those lovely boots, my dear.” She moved to steady her. “Kitten, you seem a little flush. Are you feeling well, dear?”
“Yeah, I’m— I just guess I’m like, hungry or something.” Catherine’s face was draining fast. A bead of sweat quickly developed across her brow. Unable to further conceal the panic within, she watched with gloom as the floor indicator climbed higher and higher. She wobbled. Miss Christi held out her arm. The scared kitten latched on with both paws. Catherine was about to faint. The doors parted. Fuck… She let out her dead air and sucked in new life. That was close. “Hey! Where is it, Gran?”
“Come, kitten, it’s this way. Only nine more, dear. Lift’s just around this corner.” Miss Christi tugged at Catherine to maintain pace. “Quickly, my dear! No time to doddle.”
I can do nine… She grudgingly stepped into the next elevator. Why couldn’t it be in Filene’s Basement? Fuck no! Had to be way the fuck up here. She felt it again. The dark creature wrapped her legs and tightened its grip. Steady… you little pussy, steady. Mercifully, the doors soon parted.
They would go no higher today. Catherine opened her eyes and caught sight of the signage behind the cute receptionist’s kiosk. Kristin’s Kloset? “Hey!” Eyebrow raised, she queried Miss Christi. “Just what kind of fashions do they sell here, anyway?” She waited, hands firmly on her hips. What a sight.
“Hey yourself, girlfriend,” shot back the blonde with a pretty face and nice boobs, standing behind the kiosk. “I’ll bet you’ll think they rock.”
Catherine’s eyes were stuck on the, wicked cute, receptionist. “Grandma, have you been keeping secrets from me?” She felt revived, quickly forgetting how high she was. She kicked the weakened creature off her long booted legs, stepped up to the counter, and flipped her hair. “Hi ya.”
“You’ll see very soon, my dear.” Miss Christi could see Catherine was somewhat perplexed as she moved in closer.
“Hello, I’m Vic—”
“Key?” said Catherine, leaning over the counter to steal a high-def close-up of the pretty girl’s cleavage, framed so nicely by the key-holed white leather top. “Nice.” The rest looks yummy too. She was feeling her surefooted self again. Her face grew threatening. “Love your top.”
The young receptionist dipped her head, looking down to check out her own boobs. As her head lifted, her eyes returned the compliment. “Thank you, miss!” She glanced at the F U T-shirt. “Can’t say the same about yours.” She scrunched her nose then lifted her eyes to meet Catherine’s with a new smile. “Those boots are pretty smoking hot though.” She bent forward, leaning over the counter. “Where did you get them?”
Catherine looked too, but not at her feet. Her name tag. Vicki was a clever girl. Nice try, Sticky…
Miss Christi knew that dance. She cut in (even though Catherine had no intention of answering), “Oh, this isn’t actually a store, my dear.”
Vicki took them out back. “This is our New York design center. I’m sure once you see my mom’s designs, you’ll want to wear them.” Just then, an attractive woman, about fifty, burst into the reception area. “Our first show is in three weeks.”
“Welcome. Welcome, Miss Christi. So wonderful to have you visit us.” Clearly excited, she spoke with a French accent. “Oui, Miss Christi! Welcome.” She kissed Miss Christi hello on each cheek, then turned to Catherine, “Oh!” One step closer, she said, “Look at this beautiful creature you’ve brought me today. So lovely.”
The woman put both hands around Catherine’s waist and felt her. “Oui. Oui. I should say we got her dimensions exact.” She spotted the boots. “I’m sure we have just the right wardrobe to complement those enchanting boots.” The woman’s eyes were fixed, as she knelt for a closer inspection. She felt them, tracing her hands along the stitching by the cuff. “Yes, yes, just as you described.” Still on her knees, her head lifted. “Where ever did you get them?”
“The Internet.” Catherine’s eyes were still stuck on, Sticky Vicki. “EBay.”
&n
bsp; “You must have a very special Internet.” The woman sprang to her feet and took her guests in each arm. “Come, come. No time to waste!” She whisked them off.
They made their way through the center of the work area. They moved by several women working at different workstations. As they passed, each of them paused, offered a heartwarming greeting to Miss Christi. They all wanted to see the boots. The room smelled of leather. “Lucky for you, kitten, we’re still doing the leather line.” The work area was arranged in an open-concept layout. Several computer workstations on desks and large work tables; some covered with leather hides, others with completed garments.
“The new Guayule based hypoallergenic fabrics are expected tomorrow. We start production of the new rubber line next week.”
“Rubber?” blurted Catherine, pausing for a closer look at one of the computer screens. Fuck me! She just got her first look at the new rubber line.
“Yes dear, very popular with our European clients,” said Elaine tugging. “G emailed me the sketches of her latest outfits,” she added, addressing Miss Christi, while still eyeing the long slender frame. “Very good work. I think they’ll do nicely.”
“Yes. She’s most excited. Can’t wait to see how they look on.” Miss Christi suppressed a giggle.
They continued walking. Elaine maintained a quick pace. Over to one side, a big bald black man was using something that looked like a giant jigsaw. He was cutting through a short stack of leather hides, following a template. Scraps of leather were scattered about the floor. On the far side of the room, several women stitched the cut pieces of leather together.
Catherine took an extra deep breath and looked ahead. They were approaching a large corner office. “Windows.” Great…
