Catherine. Catherine was the devil disguised as an angel. She was the sin to end all sins.
She was my Achilles' heel-and she knew it.
She was all I desired.
She was a tease.
She was a temptress.
She was my end all.
She was my sweet sin.
She was my downfall.
She was my secret.
She was my fantasy.
She was my sweet, sweet temptation.
She was my guilty pleasure.
She was the one who left the hickey-whether it was accidental I'll never know- prompting Greg, into detective mode, which only resulted in him fighting with Hodges over who could've done it. I shouldn't have been surprised when both men approached me. Of course, to end all arguments I casually replied: 'It happened during one of my all night orgies. So, to answer your question, I'm as clueless as you both.'
Catherine was an addiction, a craving, and one that I couldn't get enough of. She was in every way like ecstasy, except my addiction wasn't due to ecstasy. It was because of her. Catherine was my drug.
She was the woman who I would steal quick glances and kisses with when I thought nobody was paying attention. She was the one who I fucked across a table late one night and she was the one I longed to do it to again. She was the one who would call out my name as she climaxed.
She was the one who would whisper my name, teasingly. She was the one who would tease me with that breathtaking smile of hers. She was the one who, for the past week, had been casually running her hand across my ass, not caring if anyone noticed-as if she'd been doing this for years. She was the one who loved to tease me-whether it was during sex or not-just to see whether I would finally explode.
Behind closed doors her stripper side would come out, which I could not help but envy: from the way her body would move elegantly across the pole set up in her room. To the way her eyes would sparkle, deviously when she found another way to tease me, running her leg across mine ever so slowly.
Catherine was never predictable. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she would surprise me, yet again. Catherine was anything, but, vanilla. And those who said she was clearly never knew her. She was the type of woman who always managed to get her way.
She was, as I said, the devil disguised as an angel, and the sin to end all sins. But, she wasn't just any kind of sin. She was the sweet kind: the kind I could never get enough of, the kind which could only lead to trouble, the kind which I would give my life for.
She was the sin which made me question why the Catholic Church believed that sin was morally wrong. The immoral sin, which would eventually, lead a person into hell, if they weren't to confess all.
If Catherine was to be my downfall, if she was my immoral sin to hell, so be it, because temptation and sin had never been so sweet or so rewarding.