Disclaimer: Nobody and nothing is mine . . . except the cat. Which is too bad, because pets aren't my thing. I would much rather have Alex . . . or Olivia . . . or both.
This one takes place when Alex is in Witness Protection. Enjoy!
She has a cat in Wisconsin. She's always loved cats, never dogs, but cats. She thinks sometimes that she might be like a cat; vain (or so it would appear), self reliant, almost compulsive, coming off as cold, but playful and cuddly after you break through that exterior. Only for Olivia.
Olivia. She's named her cat Olivia, although she knows that much as she loves her cat, it will never compare to her love for Olivia.
She treats her cat like a baby and curls up with it every night, holding it tightly and pretending that this Olivia is her Olivia, the one she loves and misses so unbearably much.
It's so easy to be alone her. It's so easy to be lonely. Even when she's surrounded by people, colleagues or strangers, there's an emptiness in her heart where she knows Olivia belongs.
Her colleague, Jason, who's been hitting on her since she arrived, asks her if she wants to get dinner. She's surprised to find herself answering, for once, in the affirmative. "Sure. Come on over to my place." Not to Alex's place, but to Emily's.
The only thing Alex and Emily share is their height. Emily is everything that Alex isn't, and even their appearances differ. It's almost like putting on a costume in the mornings; brown contact lenses, and she's dyed those blonde tresses that Olivia loved to run her fingers through brown. She's cut her hair, too, and if Olivia saw her now, Alex wonders if she would recognize her.
Of course she would. They're soul mates.
Alex never believed in such things until she met Olivia.
But Emily is different. Emily can invite Jason home with her. They can have dinner and have sex for dessert, and she can pretend to enjoy it, and then when they're done, he can leave and she can cry, just as she always does.
And that's what happens. They order Italian, and it reminds Alex of the takeout she used to share with Olivia, and suddenly she's not hungry anymore. "Let's skip straight to dessert," she murmurs, because Emily is seductive in ways that Alex never could be with someone who's nearly a stranger.
As she strips off her clothes, she realizes that she doesn't really want to do this. But she was the one who suggested it, and what's another ounce of shame seeping into her pores, another regret? So she closes her eyes and lies down on the bed, trying not to cry as he thrusts into her, trying to think of Olivia, Olivia's hands and lips and tongue, always so gentle. Jason isn't. He's rough, and it almost hurts, but that's what she wanted. That was the goal. Right?
He leaves then, and she collapses in tears. Alex never cried, but with Emily, anything and everything sets off the floodgates.
So she feeds her cat. And although it's probably not the most hygienic thing in the world, she lifts that warm ball of fur into her arms and kisses it, soaking its fur with salty tears.
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