1-6. Soft and compliant
Cato escorts me towards the room he mentioned. Like this morning, there are only a few other people about in the annex. Preparations for the interviews tonight are consuming nearly everyone's time. This is the most dangerous part of my quest. As soon as I enter the room I will no longer be visible to the security cameras which scan every corner of the public space. Anything that happens inside this room will only be known to Cato and I. If Cato has set a trap for me, then there will be no witnesses to point an accusing finger in his direction. But nothing ventured; nothing gained.
We enter the room which is furnished exactly the same as Effie's room. There's no sign of anyone's personal belongings, which means Cato has at least been truthful about the room being unused. Cato must sense my nervousness about being here, but he incorrectly assumes I'm having last minute doubts about being intimate with him.
"We have plenty of time, princess. We don't need to rush things."
"I know. But it would be a shame to waste our time in private doing things we could just as easily do in the training room."
Cato doesn't need any further prompting. He moves closer to me and seconds later we are locked in another kiss. To my surprise he doesn't simply strip me, throw me on the bed, and claim his prize. He shows a lot more restraint than I expected. Which gives my body time to respond to his ardent attention.
After a while I realise his moves are not simply to please me alone. The longer our fervent entanglement goes on, the greater our combined arousal. In the end it is I who pulls us both onto the bed. I quickly kick off my shoes and make a silent invitation for Cato to move onto the next stage. I am running on pure instinct since nothing I have experienced before guides my actions. I am too far gone in the stratosphere of sexual emotions to worry about the risks and consequences of my behaviour. From Cato's fevered look, I think he too has passed the point of no return.
I let Cato dictate the pace of our union. Doing so gives me the chance to relax and enjoy the experience without worrying about how well or poorly I am doing. That's not to say that I simply let Cato do all the work without reward. I've heard enough schoolgirl gossip to know a few rudimentary tricks to encourage Cato to keep up his efforts.
Cato must prefer his bed partner to be soft and compliant. Either that, or he is content to let the girl choose the level of physical play involved in the coupling. This is new territory for me and I've no idea whether I prefer this or a more physical entanglement. We could actually wrestle and fight until he uses his greater strength to subdue me. I suppose that might be fun if played correctly. For now I'm content to learn from Cato's obvious experience.
Cato's skills in seducing a maiden are every bit as potent as his fighting skills I have witnessed during training. I don't recall him removing my top. His demanding kisses make me lose track of what is happening. If I was being sensible I'd stop the whole thing right away. But sensible Katniss never entered this room. The Katniss in this room is simply a wanton hussy.
I don't bother keeping track of time so I've no idea how long it takes before we finally reach the climax of our union. I'm far too aroused to note anything other than the extreme pleasure every pore of my body feels. And no sooner are we done than Cato begins the whole process again.
Finally exhaustion overcomes us and we doze in each others arms for a while. Unfortunately reality eventually catches up with us. Cato looks at the clock beside the bed and lets out a quiet curse.
"I must report to my mentor in ten minutes to dress for tonight's interview," says Cato.
I look at the clock and I'm surprised by how late it is. Haymitch didn't give me a specific time to be back in the apartment, but I will probably need to return sometime within the next hour. Cato will be among the first batch of tributes to be transported to the television studio, Peeta and I will be in the last batch nearly an hour later.
"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, princess," says Cato will true feeling. "I regret we must end our interlude and return to the real world. I don't even have time for a shower, but you are welcome to do so before you leave."
Our wild games have left me in need of a shower. Returning to our apartment in my current state will only attract more criticism from Haymitch. Not that I care what Haymitch thinks, but I would like to savour my current mood for as long as possible. I give Cato a farewell kiss before he leaves.
"I never did see you wearing that piece of jewellery I saw this morning," says Cato. "Are you doing anything later tonight? Perhaps you can wear it after Caesar Flickerman's show is over?"
"I'll be going to bed after the show," I reply. "In case you've forgotten, we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."
"I hadn't forgotten, but good luck in trying to sleep. Very few tributes manage to sleep the night before entering the Hunger Games arena. I don't intend to try. Our mentors are throwing a party for the District One and Two tributes in the annex conference room. Unfortunately it's a private function so I can't invite you. Not that it would be wise for you to come even if I could. But I could slip out and meet you."
We leave the issue of our meeting tonight unresolved. Cato leaves and I go to the bathroom to shower. There are soap and towels ready for use and I don't hesitate to step into the welcoming water. I take my time and wash my body and hair thoroughly. I'm busy drying myself when I hear a noise from the main room. Has Cato returned?
I'm cautious enough to only open the bathroom door enough to take a peek through the crack. I catch sight of Sylvie busy looking through my bag. Not that she'll find much, but she's clearly up to no good. I quickly finish drying and slip on the plain white dressing gown conveniently hanging behind the door. I step into the main room and see Sylvie standing facing me. My bag is lying on the table where I had originally left it. If I hadn't seen Sylvie looking inside my bag, I wouldn't have realised she had touched it.
"Er … Hello Katniss. Cato asked me to clean up the room. I didn't realise you were still here."
"I'm about to leave. I'll help you tidy up if you like."
"No, no, that won't be necessary. You had best get dressed and be on your way. Effie and Haymitch will be wondering where you are."
I dress while Sylvie makes a half-hearted attempt at tidying the bathroom. Her presence here is suspicious. The Training Centre has a whole battalion of Avoxes to do the menial housekeeping tasks. Sylvie's efforts are completely unnecessary. I finish dressing and walk over to my bag so I can retrieve my comb. I'm about to reach for my bag when I become acutely aware that Sylvie is watching me like a hawk. Suddenly I become very suspicious that Sylvie has done something to my bag. I stop in my tracks and abandon my intended move.
"Is there a comb in the bathroom?" I ask Sylvie, who is now standing at the bathroom door.
Sylvie takes her eyes off me for a moment and looks inside the bathroom. I use her temporary absence to make a visual inspection of my bag. I nearly cry out in alarm when I see the danger. A needle is pointing out of my bag in a position where it would probably jab me if I tried to open the bag. That didn't get there by accident.
"Oh, it's OK," I call to Sylvie. "I've just remembered I've one in my bag … Ow!"
"Are you OK?" asks Sylvie, coming into the room in response to my cry of pain.
"There's something sharp in my bag," I say, clutching my right hand. "I pricked my hand. How did this needle get there?"
I hold up the offending needle which I've pulled clear of my bag.
"You really should be careful, Katniss," says Sylvie in a tone that I haven't heard her use before. "Needles can cause all sorts of infections. How are you feeling?"
"I'm OK, I think. Do you think I should get myself checked out by a doctor?"
"No. I wouldn't bother. Any infection you get from a little jab like that will almost certainly clear up within 24 hours."
"Did you put the needle there?" I ask, moving over to the bed and sitting down with a thump.
"Ah, guilty as charged, I'm afraid," smirks Sylvie. "A small dose of a hallucinogenic drug to make you slightly dizzy and disoriented for a while. Just enough to sabotage your interview tonight and leave you as easy prey in the arena."
I could ask her why she has done this, but Haymitch warned me about underhand tricks. I should have realised that the animosity between Effie and her sister meant each was fiercely partisan to their own tributes.
"You are taking a big risk making such an admission. What happens when I tell everyone what you've done?"
"Few people will believe you, and even fewer will care. You've no proof. The drug will have disappeared from the needle when it jabbed you. I'm afraid it's your word against mine. Last minute nerves have disabled many tributes in the past. It's such a shame!"
"That's not very sporting of you, Sylvie," I say as I stand up and stab her arm with the needle.
"Such a temper, girl," winces Sylvie as she removes the needle from her arm. "As I said, the drug will have wiped off the needle when it jabbed you."
I could gloat and point out that the needle didn't jab me, so the drug was still on the needle when I stabbed Sylvie. But I decide to let her make that discovery for herself. I grab my bag and return to our apartment without looking back.