Camilla Pt. 07

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Kata surprises Ed by staying around, but was it for him?
3.9k words
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Part 7 of the 8 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 07/09/2019
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE ENJOY PART 7 OF THIS WONDERFUL SPICY SERIES. IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME READING CAMILLA. YOU MAY WANT TO GO AND READ PARTS 1 - 6. THEY HAVE ALL BEEN RATED ABOVE 4 STARS BY READERS.

SINCERELY,

Zola.

***

I woke up the second time with Kata there and Camilla gone. The morning seemed like another dream. I seemed to be having so many lately. This one had fractured images of me walking into the park, seeing Camilla exactly how I'd fantasized about her, sweating profusely in my suite. Camilla was speaking with me and - of all things - me not giving a damn. The actual sound of her voice was more tinny and strident than the soft baritones I expected. Then Kata, above me after I passed out on my kitchen floor. It was too much to believe. My work life was clean and simple. Do a job and get paid. Do another job and get paid again. Keep your head above water. My private life was filled with tawdry fantasies of me doing amazing things, stiff, smelly towels, leftovers in the refrigerator, and all the dirty sour clothes needing to be sent to the dry cleaners. Today they came together, and all the insecurities, the truths Kata and Camilla would need could be found by looking at my apartment. Kata had probably seen my unmade bed, gotten a whiff of my dirty laundry, and seen the clothes hung haphazardly in my closet. I was laid bare and vulnerable to her.

But she was here.

Still in my shirt and slacks from two days ago - was it really Sunday? I woke for a second time now on top of my bed. I felt like I just beached there, swollen and numb. I heard the news on the radio, and someone was typing away on a keyboard.

Kata had herself comfortable in my place. I was relieved; you don't help a man to bed because he partied too much, then stay and not get comfortable. If she had been hovering and not touching things, it would've meant she had fidgeted for the entire time I was asleep. She made her presence a bit more palatable.

I had a simple couch, a coffee table, and a television in my living room--one of three small rooms in my apartment, not including my bathroom. Like probably every man my age, who had a mother, then a wife, and then lived alone, the table had become the only place where all the artifacts of my life were placed. Everything I had in my pockets, from the post, crumpled takeout receipts, and the knick-knacks I gathered while out, would be dumped on the table in various piles and stacks. They would exist until I got the nerve to throw them away. It wouldn't take long for my living room to look like the only room I lived in.

Kata had mercilessly piled all the errant documents and trash in various corners of the living room, clearing the table for her laptop, a stack of papers, and a to-go coffee cup.

"Hello, Ed. You need to wash that gash on your forehead again." She said after a minute glance over to me - then snapping back to the screen.

I went to the bathroom without saying another word. I couldn't help being a shambling mess. Bruised by my face diving into the floor, a gory cut on my forehead, my face grey and stubbled. My nose and mouth were filled with dried blood. I didn't recognize myself. I had an image of Kata coaxing me up from the kitchen floor and helping me to bed. She had the advantage.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Fine by me. You need one."

"Yeah, thanks for that."

I found some decent casual clothes, underwear, and socks, all things I'd never wear alone in the apartment. I gathered them up and carried them into the bathroom, setting up camp there like a kid on his first sleepover. In the shower, I cleaned the dried blood off my face, scrubbed, soaped, and shaved. I even went to the bathroom under the cover of the shower water. I came out feeling more composed.

She had not moved from her place. Now that I was awake, was she not planning to leave?

The answer was piled around her feet and covering the living room floor. Kata took all the documents from the office, about 20 cardboard moving boxes, and brought them to my apartment. She was dressed in baggy cotton pants and a white long sleeve cotton top that hugged her. A far cry from the severe office style I knew, but nonetheless stunning on her.

"We're going to finish what we started, Ed. This needs to get done. Party or no."

"I'm sorry for missing - "

"That's passed us. We're here now. We're committed. I'm fine with making... concessions... based on your needs and lifestyle, but this is my commitment as well. We're completing this."

She saw me as an alcoholic and most like concluded this was why I was a worker drone late in life. Why my wife had left me, why I was what I was. For her, I'm sure, it all made sense. I was a risk and this measure - her coming to my house and nursing me back to health wasn't anything but a short leash. It wasn't even worth trying to explain my side of the story. I had made a promise never to whine about my life again.

"What row are you on, Kata?"

"Ninety-four - only eighteen hundred left." She said with such disdain I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I slunk into a corner of the room usually meant for unwanted books, extra extension cords, and magazines I'd read a dozen times but wanted to hold onto them for the pictures, and carved out a place among them for my laptop, a notepad, and a cup of instant coffee.

The television was off its stand and tilted on the floor, fallen like a soldier in a war. The victor had given herself all the available space needed to stretch and make herself absolutely at home. She had the whole couch to herself. I was tucked away in a corner - of my apartment. Her feet were up on the table and the laptop on her lap. Her conquest was complete. My apartment was hers now. My time taken - for however long she wanted.

The work began with a lot of tension between us, of course. Her disappointment was palpable, thickening the air. Periodically, she'd get up to get a drink from a bottle of water she must have bought from the nearby store. Its premium gold and white label clashed with my more subdued, blue and brown economic surroundings. The tension clung on for ours. Our conversation was painfully transactional.

"Row 120 data?"

"TXY."

"Thank you."

A half-hour of python code, data entry, and crunching later.

"Row 240 data?"

"AGF."

"Thank you."

The silver lining was we moved very quickly. The lack of human communication was made up for in concentration and speed. Sparing pleasant conversation had us focused on the work, which, in the end, most likely was one of the factors that saved us.

Over time, our progress began warming Kata up from rageful to hateful, then to just morose. I'm sure she felt what she started as my-project-in-ruins-because-of-her-fucked-up-team-member turned into perhaps-we'll-actually-delivery-this-project-on-time.

By hour four, after being nailed to our chairs, Kata asked about dinner. We chose pizza delivery - just one cheese and one onion and pepperoni - her choices - and kept working.

I bought from an artisanal pizza place just about to close for fear anything less would regress her back to hateful - or worse, uncompromising disappointment.

The pizza arrived. We drank water with it.

"How did your Saturday go?" I asked between bites.

"It went fine, Ed. My team member ghosted me. I lost time on a critical project I bet my career on and worried something had happened - only to find out he was partying for an entire fucking day. You?"

I didn't apologize again. I didn't know what I could apologize for at this point. I wasn't a partier. Whatever happened to me, I was ashamed. But shame isn't anything to talk about to the person who feels it for you. Self-pity got me nowhere. I wasn't going to use it anymore - especially not with Kata.

Aside from turning the norms of decency between manager and team member inside out, there was a little thrill of liberation deep inside me. I had skipped out on a professional promise. The good little worker I was and had always wanted to be failed. And yet, it wasn't the end of my world. Instead, Kata was here. My work life came and accommodated me. I was enough to have her carry all the unfinished boxes of the entire project - out from the office, down the elevator, to her car, and then up to my apartment. She was so pissed, but she showed up. I couldn't explore why I felt good about it. Unlike my wife, unlike all those other women in my life, even after my behavior disappointed her, she came. I was worth something to her. I wasn't fired, blamed, or thrown under the bus. She was still committed - even to the worst of me.

We ate the pizza without talking--me at my corner and her on the couch. A radio played the same popular song for at least the twelfth time that hour. How did anyone hear anything different nowadays?

Through it all, we never stopped working. We slowed down slightly around the pizza but then picked back up again. We didn't stop to clean. The plates and boxes were piled on the floor in whatever open spots remained among the boxes. We achieved a flow. The room darkened by the evening and was silenced by our concentration and frenetic pace. I was only broken when I began calling out numbers for her to check. The check gave us continued hope things were going well.

"Row 1023 - HHF5."

"Good."

An hour later.

"Row 1207 - G2C12."

"Thank you, Ed."

Fifty-five minutes later.

"Row 1302 - G622A."

"Wonderful. Confirmed."

Seventy-five minutes after that.

"Row 1488 - MMN002X."

"Wait, three 'm's" Like mmm? Or just mhn?" she laughed at herself. I laughed as well. It was 3 am.

"M. M. N." I said, "like the candy, plus an 'N,'" I said, wanting to hear her laugh again but still not taking any chances to take a step back.

"Ok. Good. My god, we're close to getting this done."

"May I get you another coffee?"

"I'll get it myself, Ed." The cold came back. "Don't stop."

Soon, the sky began to lighten.

"Row 1712. L5L58E."

"Perfect. Almost done."

And finally, with the sun's rays piercing through the trees and the night melting away, we had completed the data set. Out my window, I was relieved to see the menacing shapes that once looked into my windows becoming trees.

"Ok. Last row - 1894 - "

"Wait, 1894? I have 1893."

"Go back."

"1893," Her voice broke, the stress through a small, hairline crack of her tough exterior. She muttered to herself. "Fuck Ed! What the hell? Oh no no no. I'm fucking exhausted. I'm fucking exhausted. What the fuck happened?"

I snuck a peek at her as the morning light crept into the room. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were dark and sunken. It hadn't been just the night but the entire rollercoaster of the weekend she endured. She hadn't slept for days. She had seemed so composed at the hotel. I regretfully realized this whole situation, me and everything, had broken her down. She burned up the things that had made her Kata for this.

But she still looked so strong and beautiful.

"Hold up, Kata," I said, staying even, wanting to be that fixed point for her. "Go back to 1712. We can start there."

"Fuck. Fuck."

"Go back to 1712. What does it say?"

"L5L58E."

"That's what I have. Creep up the rows; 1744."

"88GHMN."

"OK. Check. Good. I have 1767 - MDD126V."

"Yes. I have that."

"1789? DX36PF3?"

"That's it. I have that as 1788."

We fixed the missing row and walked through the remaining lines of code one by one. My stomach twisted as we burned down the list.

It ended perfectly.

It was 7:19 am.

She deflated. Saving her work on the laptop, sliding it off her lap, depositing it with a thud on the table among the papers and notes, she sunk deep into the cushions. She let her guard down long enough to allow a small smile to cross her face. Her breasts were beautiful. Her body draped across the couch and table. I wanted more than anything to be next to her, on my knees, between her legs. Her calves on my shoulders. How amazing this woman was.

And then, quickly, the smile left. She remembered it was Monday. She was her fuck up's apartment, and she needed to get to work. She shot up from the couch.

"I've got to get ready for work, right?" she asked.

"It's compiling so I will. So what the fuck happened, Ed."

"I don't know."

"It's your problem, Ed. I just - should I have apologized for knocking you off the wagon that night?"

"I'm not an alcoholic, Kata. Far from it, I never drink that much. I'm far from - "

"Then you just left? That's worse. I'd rather you had a problem - but you truly flaked off? You fucked the project. On Saturday - I was worried - but now, I've changed how I look at you."

"I don't know what happened - "

"Don't lie to me, Ed. Can't you just own up that you have a problem?"

I took a breath to lay into how she's misjudging me and how one night and one morning isn't a good indicator of character, but I caught myself. Where had trying to prove myself gotten me? So why do it again? She saw an alcoholic. I finally saw someone that had rolled around from commitment to commitment. Maybe whatever happened Saturday was my subconscious breaking point. Enough seeking validation. If I didn't, they'd still come.

"You don't have to babysit me, Kata. Don't."

"Then what do I do?"

Her hair was mussed across her face and the morning light, filling the apartment, created a halo of warm glow over her. I caught my breath. It pained me to have hurt her. She had gone the extra lengths to make things work. She was hurt by what I brought her, but I had more to give - good and bad. I sincerely hoped as I looked at this vision, I would have that chance.

"Well, today, we need to finish this work."

"And tomorrow?"

"Why don't we wait for tomorrow and see?"

"You can't promise me anything, can you?"

"I'm sorry for not letting you know."

She scoffed.

"Ok," I said, "Look - " I sat down. She relaxed a bit. I had unknowingly physically threatened her. With my size, I could probably hurt her before her getting away. "I don't know what happened after I left you. And I don't know what she was doing here. Honestly? I checked to make sure she didn't steal anything. I didn't sleep with her - I met her as I walked back from getting dropped off by a cab. I wanted to walk on what I thought was a Saturday morning. I didn't even know it was Sunday."

"Ridiculous, you sound like a frat boy that wastes his life partying."

"Kata, trust your judgment. I'm not some college party boy or some career failure. I moved around a lot. I got divorced, and that set me back in my career. I don't know what happened after I left you, but I'm not an alcoholic. If I were - it would've hit me way earlier than this. I didn't sleep with her. I met her as I was walking through a park, hungover. Who knows what she wanted. Whatever happened, I was in rough shape. Fuck, even if I weren't, I wouldn't have cared. But my head was squarely up my ass, and I didn't know it was Sunday."

"Jesus Ed."

"Yeah. Jesus."

"I can't ask if you always do this because, honestly, I don't know if I'd believe you."

"I can respect that."

"Well? Do you do this kind of thing a lot?"

"No."

She scoffed again and shook her head. "If we hadn't finished this and couldn't complete the presentation this morning, I would've killed you."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Her face was raw with contempt. "That's it? YEAH?" She lunged at me, grabbed me by my shirt, and tried lifting me off the couch. I didn't move, and my weight got her nowhere. She forcefully shoved me back down, seething. I looked up at her, not moving. While my blood rushed to make myself defend myself, I stopped. My fingers and feet tingled. All I wanted to do was kiss her. It took me a good deal to stay sitting, unwavering, on the couch. I didn't even smooth the shirt where she had grabbed me.

Finishing was a relief. I could have probably killed me, too, if I knew what was at stake. Her dignity, pride, and professional reputation. She had put it on me and was playing for high stakes.

"I didn't expect to do that, Ed."

"I know."

"It was the weekend - worrying about you, about the project, then finding you being a fuckup -"

Would this have been something I'd want to see from her daily? No. I had experienced toxicity in my own life. Rage and passion are like salt, a little will do wonders, but a lot could kill you.

"You don't need to explain anything to me. The project is done. Almost done. We just need to update the placeholder data in the Powerpoint and get through the presentation today at 10 am."

"10 am." She echoed. We were burning morning light.

"Can you get home on time? What's your plan?"

Kata had her Monday planned on Saturday. She'd have a few minutes more before the latest she could leave without being present at the meeting. She'd make it home in 50 minutes. Be at work an hour later and have the updated presentation ready and polished before the 10 am meeting - to the profound disappointment of the rest of the members of the Steering Committee. She would savor that meeting, presenting volumes of data down to one view, her view of the future. It would be the undeniable, logical direction forward for the company. She would have a triumphal procession over them and onto the most significant role of her career.

But now, she was still in Ed's apartment, having been driven to violence. She hated him for coaxing out her insecurities and vulnerabilities. She wanted to sit on his lap and fall asleep. Even rumpled, he looked like a comfortable teddy bear to her. What could he possibly want from her out of all this?

"The man I see, you're not all that bad, but I see no out. No wonder. Nothing that inspires you - so I'm guessing it's all on your phone's browser history."

"That's not fair, Kata."

"No, Ed, it's not fair. It's not fucking fair. You can't disappear on a binge and then wrap it up with being a subservient fucking assistant on a Monday morning. Go get the fucking coffee if that's what you want."

"I was trying to help."

"I don't need your 'help,' Ed. I asked you to join me to do a job. It's not 'help.' You followed through on your commitment - barely. My problem was not a blackout-worthy 24-hour binge - that's your problem. Your fuck ups are not my responsibility. I'm not your fucking mother."

"Enough, Kata. Go home."

"My problem is your inconsistency. I thought I could rely on you. Fuck you, Ed, Fuck you for being inconsistent."

That comment took the wind out of me. Yes, inconsistent was pretty accurate. I had not lived up to the person she thought I would be.

"Alright. Just go. I'll meet you at work."

"And what else?"

"Oh, and now? Nothing else? Isn't this enough? Can't we talk about this tomorrow? When today - like this entire weekend is past us?"

"Jerk off on my tits, Ed."

"What?"

Kata pulled off her sweater. Her breasts were sumptuous. They were cradled in a simple, pretty silk bra."

She straddled me. I tried to push her off, but her knees pinned me against the couch. If I tried to push her off me with my hips, I would be humping her.

Her fingers laced around my head, and she plunged my face deep between her warm, soft breasts.

"That's it, baby. Suck on my tits."

"Kata, wait -" I said. I didn't know why she was doing this. My body had responded. Could she get off on men that were fuckups? Oh god, those breasts. The electricity rose through my body.

She scooped one heavy breast from the cup of her bra and pressed a perky nipple between my lips.

"Suck it, baby. Suck it." Her breath was stale and buttered with coffee.

I relented. How could I resist? She intoxicated me. She had made me nervous when I first met her. I had dreamt - as I dream about all the women I met - doing this exact thing. She must have known this. Could she possibly be giving in to me?

"Yesss, baby. Yesss." Her warm breath washed over my face. It felt great. Her mouth partly open, taking tiny delicate breaths as she watched me suck and pleasure her nipples with my tongue. "That's it. Good boy. No need to be gentle."

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