Alan Ch. 13

he found his bathrobe in the dark of the hotel room, and then walked across the hall to be with Kate. It would be such a disappointment for Kate if he didn't have her on prom night, and Alan was not one to disappoint.

"Master!" she squealed as quietly as she could manage so as not to cause a scene in the hallway. He shooed her inside, and she pounced on him, wrapping her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. He threw her down on the mattress, and she laughed uproariously. They both peeled off their robes, and Alan laid down on the bed beside her.

She was amazed by the his tenderness that night. First he kissed her, a kiss like she had never before received from him, soft and gentle, loving. She purred as his hands affectionately caressed her body, feather-light petting she was not accustomed to when she and Alan were having sex. Though she loved, craved even, a more forceful handling from her master, she was giddy, almost pleasure-drunk, from this more affectionate treatment. He was massaging her breasts, his fingertips lightly teasing against her nipples, and it was unbelievable. Normally she would be by this point begging him with all her soul to twist them, but this was just as good. Normally she grunted and groaned at his touch, but tonight she sighed.

As much as she was aroused, she was confused. "Master?" she began to ask a question.

He shushed her, and continued his gentle manipulations.

"Master?" she began again, this time with fear in her voice.

He pressed his mouth right up against her ear. "Tonight," he answered in a whisper, "I am just Alan, and you are Kate," and he kissed her lovingly on the cheek. She laid flat on the bed while Alan positioned her legs apart. He hovered over her, and as he penetrated her he bent down to kiss her. Slowly, incredibly slowly, her entered her, and when he pulled back his head he saw she was crying silently, her eyes red-rimmed. Alan licked away her tears and kissed her again, all around her face. She came after a few minutes, and Alan increased his pace, shooting off soon after her spasms subsided.

"Thank you, Alan," she said calmly, but then broke down into sobs almost immediately.

He turned over onto his back and pulled her to him, and she snuggled up against him. He tested the waters, seeing if she was able to talk. "Kate?" he asked. "Katie?"

"Huh?" Her answer was almost inaudible.

"Can I ask you a question?" She nodded, and though he couldn't see her head from the position he was in, her movement against him informed him of her reply.

"Why, Kate? Why were you so mean to me for all those years?"

"I, uh, I don't know." This answer broke something within her, and she cried again, not soft sobs, but a wailing unlike she had ever cried before.

"No, Kate, please don't cry, please." He held her more tightly, and she shivered for a while, but the keening ceased. "You didn't like me for some reason. Something I did, or something I was?"

"I don't know, Alan. I don't know." She managed to hold herself together now. "I think I'm a mean person. I hardly like anyone at all. You were an easy target of, oh I can't think of the right word. Scorn."

"Why?"

"Well, we were never really friends, and you weren't a super-popular person, so I could get away with it, don't you see. It's easy to pick on a total loser, so where's the fun in that? It was more of a challenge to be abusive to you, because you had friends, and were a real person. Plus, you were around, but you weren't around. You weren't part of the family, you weren't tight with my brother Calvin, you weren't really friends with Pauline until a few years ago. Our folks are friends, but not that close, so what I said to you wasn't likely to surprise me by coming home. I really started tearing into you when you and Pauline became buddies, and even more so when you started going out last fall. It just perturbed me, but for the life of me I can't tell you why.

"Since that day in the newspaper

office, you know, since we started, you know, I discovered something about myself. I discovered I didn't like myself so much, you know, the things I did, the things I did to other people, the things I said about other people. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to change. I think it's something you've shown me. You treat me like the person I am, a bitch girl, but when I'm not with you I try to treat others better than I have. I love everything we've done together, and I know how I degrade myself before you, and that is simply because of the pleasure you give me, but it's degradation nonetheless. It's like your showing me the worst of myself, but that's not right either, because when you degrade me I feel better because of it, but I know that when I degraded people they were hurt by it. So I use that, I channel it. I am nicer to people, I think. I stopped gossiping, I stopped cutting people down. I stopped doing a lot of bad things.

"Because of you. Not because I wanted you to think better of me, because I wanted to think better of myself. Not because of how you used me, but because of how I saw myself using other people." She paused and sniffled. "Tell me, Alan, please. Tell me I'm a good person."

Alan turned and kissed her forehead. "You are."

"I love you," she whispered. He hugged her even more tightly, but she sat up in bed. "And please, Alan, please don't tell me you love me too, because I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be loved, yet."

He pulled her back down to him and kissed her again, this time on the lips. "'Yet,'" he said. "One day, one day soon, you will be."

Next Chapter: Making Preparations