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Beijing, Wednesday, 9:45 p.m.
The W Hotel in Beijing had a spectacular view of the Bird’s Nest Stadium and the Olympic Park. If she squinted a little, she didn’t even have to see the silhouettes of the hulking grey buildings beyond it all, the poorer, dirtier, more congested neighborhoods of Beijing that Cat wouldn’t be visiting while she was here.
The food had been excellent here so far. Not that National City didn’t have respectable Chinese, but Cat was enjoying test driving her passable Mandarin and discerning palate in both ordering tea-fried prawns in expensive restaurants and breakfast congee from street carts. But it was the end of her third day here, and she was tired of the foreign-ness of the background walla of the street and the office buildings, and was missing home and her son. And even that girl, that assistant of hers, tugging on her sleeve.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Kara. Good evening, Cat. Just reminding you you have another 8am with Paul Cho at the Beijing bureau in the morning.
Kara, get on Skype, please. It’s easier than all this tedious typing.
But I’m not dressed.
I’ve seen it before, Kara. Cat suspected that Kara had tinkered with her autocorrect to force it to type “Kara” correctly when she addressed her in text form.
A moment later, Cat was sitting at the table near the window, with her laptop open and Skype on. Kara’s perky face was smiling back at her. “Good morning, Kiera.”
“Good evening, Cat.” Kara almost giggled at this. The fifteen hour time difference had them at opposite ends of the day and this seemed to amuse the girl more than it should. But it was nice to hear English. And it was nice to see Kara’s stupid face.
“It’s not even seven a.m. where you are, Kiera, what can you possibly have to smile about?”
Kara shrugged. “It’s nice to see you.”
Cat snorted. “I told you, flattery will not get you a raise or a promotion.”
The girl smiled but didn’t say anything.
Cat rattled off a series of ridiculous instructions that nobody else but Kara could be trusted to actually carry out, and which Kara dutifully made note of. Then she listened as the girl ran through the rest of Cat’s schedule for the day and updated her on the art department’s progress for the Trib’s Sunday magazine, the series of increasingly angry messages from Phillippe at the Paris bureau, and a couple of restaurants in the vicinity of the hotel where she would be able to get a decent American breakfast because she knew without being told that by day three, Cat would be missing home in little ways.
After they finished talking business, Cat realized that her assistant was wearing a Northwestern University tee shirt and, from what she could see, some sort of sweat shorts. “Are those your pajamas, Kiera?” she demanded suddenly.
Kara glanced down at her rumpled sleep clothes. “Oh, uh… yeah. This is what I sleep in.”
“Are you fifteen years old?”
Kara’s relentless cheer crumpled into a little frown for half a moment. “They’re comfortable,” she protested.
Cat smirked. “Alright, Kiera. I need to get ready for bed. Get dressed. Hopefully next time I see you, you’ll be dressed more like an adult.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Cat.”
Cat got up and sashayed over to the window for a moment, looking out at Beijing’s nighttime cityscape and the glowing thatch of the Bird’s Nest. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that, whether it was exhaustion and loopiness from jetlag and the time difference or something else, that the light for her webcam was still on, which meant Skype was still active. An impish smile played across her mouth for a moment as she gave her body a long, slow stretch, then sighed dramatically, and then sauntered over to the dresser, which was, she knew, still in view of the webcam. She could see in the vanity mirror that Kara’s face was no longer on screen but the chat was still open and the call, still active.
Keeping her back to the camera, Cat decided to have a little fun, and slowly unzipped her dress. Then, with equal slowness, milking every moment for what it was worth, she slipped it up over her head and laid it on top of the dresser. She smiled maliciously, but did her best to swallow it. Then, she reached up, unhooked her bra, and laid it on top of the dresser too. She heard something on Kara’s end of the call crash to the floor and break. Cat smiled with satisfaction. There, she thought. Now, I can sleep.
**************
National City, Wednesday, 9:45 pm
Kara wasn’t entirely sure whether Cat had meant to leave the Skype call on this morning, or she’d simply been still too loopy from the time difference to notice a small detail like that. She’d spent most of today, though, worrying that Cat was going to bust her for watching her get changed last night. She hadn’t meant to, really – Kara wasn’t the sort of person to do that on purpose, but she’d walked away from the computer and then noticed a few moments later, from the other side of the room, that the call was still open. She held her breath and watched Cat slip out of her clothes and into something silky to sleep in. She’d have gotten away with it too, if she hadn’t knocked over that vase and broken it because she was so distracted by the sight of Cat’s tiny waist and bare back.
She decided she was just going to pretend it didn’t happen and hope that Cat would be merciful enough to do the same. Besides, maybe her new sleeping attire would distract Cat enough to forget to bring it up. She could hope, anyway.
She looked down at the text in her hand. I have half an hour before my next meeting. Get on Skype so you can prep me.
She texted back coyly: But Cat, it’s past my bedtime.
Good. Then chop chop, the faster you get me through it the sooner you can go to bed.
Kara opened her laptop and set it on her table. Cat’s face popped up on screen. “Miss Grant, your lipstick–” she began. It was a little smudged. Probably just from whatever passed for lunch when Kara wasn’t around to take care of it. But Kara had the fleeting thought that she’d like to have been the one to smudge it.
But Cat cut her off. “I know,” she snapped. “Come on, let’s go over that memo.”
After talking through the bullet points, Cat sighed and looked at Kara, sitting in the glow of her computer, in the half-dark of her apartment. “Kiera?” she inquired, with some surprise. “What are you wearing?”
Kara fidgeted with the strap of the new burgundy silk nightgown she was wearing. Her tastes were usually simpler than this but in a fit of impetuousness, knowing she’d probably be talking to Cat again before going to bed and having gotten such a hard time from her about her sleep attire that morning, she’d bought it on her lunch break. “Oh, this? Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Cat pressed, seeming a little intrigued. She leaned a little closer to her camera.
Kara blushed a little, suddenly losing some of her boldness.
“In fact,” Cat went on, “it looks like lingerie. Are you wearing lingerie, Kiera?”
Kara marshaled her composure. “Well, Miss Grant, you didn’t like my sleeping attire this morning, so I thought you might like this better.”
“Hm, well, it’s promising, but I’ll reserve judgment until I see the matching underwear.”
Kara’s cheeks became hot. “What?”
“The underwear. Does. It. Match?” Her gaze remained fixed on Kara, eyebrow raised, in a way that made her shake a little even though Cat was on the other side of the world.
“I’m not showing you my underwear, Cat.” Kara squirmed. In fact, it did.
“In other words, no,” Cat sighed. “Once again, no follow-through.”
Kara tried deflecting. “Well, does yours?”
Cat clucked her tongue. “Oh no no, this is not about me. Of course it does, because that is who I am as a person. But do not try to make this about me.”
But the distance was enough to make Kara bold again. “Well, show me,” she challenged. “Then I’ll show you mine.”
Cat rolled her eyes and sighed again. But a little smirk was tugging at the corners of her mouth. Kara’s heart raced. “I don’t have time for this, Kiera. Later. Go to sleep.”
“Okay, okay!” Kara said suddenly. She almost covered her mouth immediately afterward. She couldn’t believe she’d just said it. But she stood up and, after a moment of hesitation, she watched Cat’s face as she stood, quickly flipped the hem of her nightgown up to reveal the matching burgundy lace underwear, and then flipped it back down. She gave Cat a satisfied smile.
But Cat was not amused. “Was I supposed to see something? Again please, and not at superspeed.”
Superspeed. Damnit, she always says stuff like that, like she knows, Kara thought irritably. But she took the hem between her fingers again, and lifted very slowly, sliding the fabric up her thighs, revealing what was underneath in all it’s dark, lacy glory. Cat pursed her lips and watched, seeming pleased. “Better?” Kara asked, her breath becoming a little short.
After a seemingly endless pause in which she stood there holding her nightgown up, Cat nodded slowly. “Better.”
She loved the way Cat was looking at her now, like she was something to eat, but she lowered her nightgown back down, as slowly as she’d lifted it, and sat back down. “Now your turn.”
Cat smirked. “Like I said, Kiera. I don’t have time now. But –” She stared into the camera a moment longer. “–later.”
Kara went to bed, but lay awake for longer than she would admit, wondering what awaited her in the morning.
************************************
Beijing, Thursday, 10:15 pm
Cat summoned Kara to join her on Skype. She’d stayed dressed but she was tired of her clothes and wanted out. She didn’t have energy to fabricate a reason. She texted: Kara. Skype. Now.
Kara went back over to the table and opened the call. Cat saw her still-sleepy face and smiled a little. “Good morning, Kiera.” Still in that burgundy silk number. It looked good on her.
“Good evening, Cat.”
“Did Steinberg rewrite the last two paragraphs of the feature for Sunday?”
“Yes.” An awkward pause. “Is … is that all?”
Cat yawned and then stretched. “Well, no.” She leaned into the camera for a moment and was amused that Kara leaned back a little, as if she was really there. “I did promise you something earlier.”
She sat and amused herself for a moment with watching Kara’s face become suddenly more awake, watching a little flush come into her cheeks, and then that nervous little lip-licking thing that she did. God, the girl still has baby fat on her cheeks, Cat thought, am I really about to do this? And then, Oh, come on, Cat, this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just underwear.
“You… you were serious?”
“Do I often promise you things and not give them to you?”
“Well, there was that time you promised me–”
“Hush,” Cat cut her off. “I’m delivering.” She reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her striped blouse. She paused dramatically, watching Kara’s eyes get a little wider. And then she undid another button. She drew the shirt open with two delicate fingers, exposing the skin of her chest. She flicked a third button open, and now it fell open enough to show the butterfly wings of her cream-colored lace bra peeking through the window of her opened blouse.
She stopped. Kara gulped. Cat smiled, this time not troubling herself to hide the predatory light in it.
Then she stood, and undid the top button on her slacks. “Now, as I was saying … I match, because that is who I am.” She hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her pants and shimmied a little, sliding them down her hips just enough. Just enough to show the cream colored lace of the waistband of the low rise bikini briefs that, of course, matched the bra. Of course.
She stood for a moment more, watching Kara gulp a few more times.
“Alright. I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, Kiera.” She turned on heel and marched away from the computer, knowing that she hadn’t ended the call.
“Good night, Cat,” Kara answered, her voice shaky.
Over her shoulder, she could see that once again, Kara was no longer in front of the computer but that the call was still open. Once again, with her back to the computer, she stripped out of her blouse and pants. A deafening silence filled the room. She swore she could hear the hum of Kara’s refrigerator. She’d have to escalate things. She unhooked the bra and pulled it off, laying it on the dresser. She pulled a little silk nightgown from the dresser. Then she slid out of her underwear. She heard the sound of something slamming into a wall on Kara’s end of the call, and some sort of little strangled, muffled throat noise.
There, she thought with satisfaction. Now I can sleep.
******************
National City, Thursday, 9:33pm
There was no way, Kara decided, that Cat leaving the call open that morning had been an accident. Kara had walked into a freaking wall thanks to watching her change. Cat had to have heard that. She had to know. It was clear that Cat was just toying with her, now. So she bought another silk nightie, like the burgundy one, but this time in blue.
“I don’t pay you enough to expand your wardrobe this quickly,” Cat remarked after they’d conducted their business.
“Well I don’t want to offend your sensibilities, Miss Grant,” Kara answered, cheekiness nestled in her polite delivery.
“Hm,” was all Cat said. “So?”
“So what?”
“So do you match?”
Kara bit her lip. “Miss Grant…”
Cat leaned closer to the camera. “Call me Cat,” she purred.
“Ok … Cat…”
“Now answer my question. Do you match?”
“Well…” She was having second thoughts about her cheeky plan.
“In other words, no.”
Kara took a breath. “Does it count as not matching if I’m not wearing anything?” she blurted out.
Cat pouted her lips at the camera. “Kiera, now I know you’re lying.”
Kara furrowed her brow and gave Cat a determined look. “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not.”
“Either way,” Cat sighed, a note of triumph in her voice, “you’ve backed yourself into a corner.”
Kara’s breath sped up. “You’ll never know, will you?”
“Unless you show me.”
Kara smirked. She stood up, and after a moment’s thought, she turned to the side, her hip pointed at the camera, and slowly lifted the hem of the nightie to reveal that she was telling the truth, there was no underwear under there, but remained with her body angled to the side so that she wasn’t giving Cat a full-blown show.
Cat spent a long time looking at her without saying anything, even after she lowered the nightie and sat back down, smiling into the camera with a smile not unlike the one Cat often used when she was overly pleased with her own cleverness.
Finally, she spoke. “Well, well, Kiera. Are you expecting company this evening?”
Kara continued smiling. “Only you, Miss Grant.”
“Hm,” Cat said again. Then she sighed breezily. “Well, goodnight, Kiera. I’m sure I’ll have a million emails for you by the time you wake up.” And then Cat got up and walked away from the computer, “accidentally” leaving the call open again.
Kara hesitated, then walked away from the computer, also “accidentally” leaving the call open, then sat down on her bed, still in frame, with her back to the camera, slipped out of the nightie, and started rubbing lotion on her skin. She took her time, careful to make sure she got every naked inch.
Finally, after a few moments, she heard it. The sound of something crashing to the floor and breaking, on the other end of the Skype call.
There, she thought. Now I can sleep.