Part Seven
"Damn. Look at it… That bitch."
"That's about what I said." The two women chuckled as they surveyed the mess that was Kerry's kitchen. She'd gotten home as quickly as she could, and Kim had opened the door for her, left standing as Kerry had flown to the kitchen, her favourite room in the whole house.
"Should I call the police?" Kim asked, wondering why Kerry hadn't done so already. She could tell that Kerry was furious from the tension in her shoulders and her clenched fists. It seemed the good Doctor Weaver had women troubles.
"No, don't. They'll only arrest me along with her, and I really don't need a stint in jail right now." There was a hint of amusement in Kerry's voice, along with a dry chuckle, but it still didn't entirely displace the annoyance. She sighed, then said, "C'mon, you're staying here, you help. Let's get this cleaned up then call out to George's or someplace."
So the two women began to tidy up, each taking one side of the room. Kim could still remember where everything went, a fact that didn't escape Kerry's notice. Within 20 minutes, the kitchen looked respectable, and they were seated in the den, coffee in hand, waiting for the delivery guy to turn up with their Chinese.
"So...what happened, Kerry? That was quite some display in the ER back there, and now this. Whoever she is, something must really have happened."
Kerry could hear the playfulness in Kim's voice, but also the concern. God, ten months apart and the psychiatrist was still checking up on her. She sighed. "Yep, something most certainly did happen. For a few weeks, I hadn't seen her much - she wasn't spending many nights, that sort of thing. Then some strange woman called me at work, yelling all sorts of insults at me. I just hung up on her. So I called Sandy - that's her name - and left a message on her machine, telling her I was coming over later on. This was about two weeks ago. So I open her door, and she's there, up against the hall wall, with some bitch on her knees in front of her. I got there just in time to see her cum." Kerry's voice had gone very small, so Kim reached over and patted her on the arm, murmuring softly to her, comforting her.
After a few minutes, Kerry continued, angry. "So I left, went to some bar and got outrageously drunk and got home a half hour before the start of my shift. I showered and raced back out, barely sober. Sober enough to get to work, but not to do anything but paperwork and drink coffee for a few hours. Anyway, I went out onto the floor about two and a half hours into my shift, and she was there, waiting for me. I told her to get lost, get out, but she told me it was all a mistake, all that crap. I got security, she got mean. Started sending nasty emails, leaving notes on my door, in the ER, that sort of thing. So eventually...well, I think you heard that bit." Kerry looked over at Kim, amusement now showing on both faces. Before they knew it, both women were holding their sides with laughter, trying not to slip off the sofa.
"Kerry..." - Kim could barely speak for laughter - "you destroyed" - more laughs - "her Etheridge collection". She gave up and slid onto the floor. "You are incorrigible. But congratulations." Kim finally managed to regain some control, and stopped laughing long enough to form a coherent sentence. "That was true class, Dr. W."
"Well, I'm not so sure about that. I felt kinda stupid afterwards, but I just - I don't know. I got in and I just wanted to do something to give her the kind of pain she'd given me. Stupid, childish, and most definitely not me."
Kerry was about to continue her explaination when the doorbell sounded. Instead, she got up and walked over, pulling the door open onto the delivery boy, who looked about 15. His eyes were instantly drawn to the drawing that had so attracted Kim. Kerry noticed this, and handed the boy some bills, before taking the bags off him, turning him around by his shoulders and with a laugh, closing the door behind him. She turned round and slammed right into Kim.
The blonde raised an eyebrow, causing Kerry's knees to go weak. "Yes, Kerry. I'd been meaning to ask you about that." She indicated the picture. "I never knew you could draw."
"I used to. When I was younger. It was hard to get film in Africa, so I'd sketch instead. After you left, I found some old pencils in a drawer, and well...you can see the results. That one's not based on anything, or anyone, particular. Just...came out of nowhere, but it's one of my favourites."
"Hmm, I can, uh, see why." The picture was having the same effect on Kim as before, so she took the bags off Kerry and walked through to the living room. Kerry followed, noticing the blonde's shapely ass and the slight swinging of her hips. She swallowed hard.
A couple of hours later, they sat in front of the fire, full of good food and good wine. And Kerry asked the question that had been running round her head for the past nine hours. "Kim, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Kerry, I--"
But Kerry interrupted Kim, her voice dead. "No, Kim, don't bother. I don't want to hear it. You're here, and you can still do it to me. You can still get me. Is that what you wanted to find out?"
back to fanfiction.... forward to part eight....