Passions Prologue

by Dana Keylits

Before there was Richard Castle, there was someone else, someone special, someone who'd taught Kate how to enjoy her life. Her name was Bette Porter, and in the fall of 1998, they'd spent 15 days together. This story is femSLASH, that means same-gender sexuality. If you are at all uncomfortable with this, please do not read. I do not want to have to wade through homophobic reviews.

28. Kodachrome

Passions Prologue
By Dana Keylits

Chapter Twenty Seven: Kodachrome

After our unexpected run-in with the police, Bette dropped me off at my dorm. But, not before we lingered in the car a bit longer, our fingers entwined, her lips surfing my neck, her tongue darting out to tease that sensitive spot behind my ear that always sent a shudder down my spine. Saying goodnight was hard. I wanted to be with her, in her bed, in her arms, but she had an early morning class to teach, and I had a test for which I desperately needed to study. So, in spite of the fact that I didn't want to stop kissing her, I didn't want to stop touching her, we'd begrudgingly said goodnight and, as I ascended the stairs outside of my building, I could feel her smoldering eyes watching me.

It was also hard to leave her because of the lingering doubts I had about what was going on with her, disquieting thoughts that still gnawed at the edges of my brain, and I wanted reassurance. But, in the end, I'd agreed. We needed to tend to the other matters in our lives. Things like classes, and laundry, and family, and tests, and bills to pay.

Things that didn't seem to matter when Bette was around.

When I reached my floor, I slipped the key in the deadbolt of my dorm room and opened the door. As I crossed the threshold, my foot landed on a small white envelope, which I inadvertently sent skittering across the room with the toe of my sneaker. I flicked on the desk light and then picked it up, turning it over in my hand. It was an envelope with a couple of black and white pictures haphazardly stuffed inside of it. And, there was a note.

Kbex - Thought I'd see you tonight at Jason's. Wanted to give you these from that frat party a few weeks ago. Hope to see you at the next N9 meeting! –Henry.

Shit. I'd totally forgotten about Jason. He'd asked three weeks ago if I would go to his party and I'd said yes.

But then, Bette had happened.

And now I was becoming one of those friends. The kind that ditched you when they got a significant other.

I rolled my eyes, chastising myself, promising I would call Jason in the morning to apologize. I slumped into my chair, tossing my keys onto the desk and toeing off my shoes. I pulled out the photographs.

There was one of Henry and me, each of us holing a red solo cup and looking incredibly uncomfortable. I smiled, remembering how awkward we'd both felt that night. Like fish out of water. I flipped to the next photo, and there I was standing beside a huge ficus plant, looking moody and uncertain. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I regarded the photograph, a puff of air blowing past my lips as I thought how fitting that had been, standing beside a ficus, hoping to blend in with the wallpaper.

When I flipped to the third photograph, my eyes blinking with disbelief, I sat up and inhaled sharply, one hand covering my mouth.

There I was, smiling at the photographer, a cup in my hand, and Bette sitting beside me on the sofa. She was gazing at me with that wicked smile on her face, her arm around me, pulling me close.

And, I had my hand on her thigh.

I held it close to my face, looking at it through narrowed eyes. I didn't remember this photograph. And, as I ran my finger over the black and white image, I closed my eyes and traveled back to fourteen days ago. How could I not remember this picture being taken? Judging by the placement of my hand, it had clearly been taken after Bette had kissed me.

And, was it really only fourteen days ago that we'd met?

I grabbed a glass picture frame from my desk drawer, one of the many my mom had insisted I bring with me, saying it would be no time before I'd want to fill them up with freshman memories. If only she knew, I thought, a smile bowing my lips. I opened the back of the frame, and slipped the photograph of Bette and me inside of it, secured the back, and then flipped it over to stare at it again.

I felt a twinge.

Just looking at her, her mocha skin, her seductive smile, her unruly jet black hair.

She made me feel things.

Dangerous things.

Things that made my hands wander.

I set the frame on the small table beside my bed, quickly took off my clothes, and slipped naked between the cream-colored percale sheets.

And as I stared at the image of us together, of her looking at me in that carnal, hopeful way, I touched myself.

And, as I came, her name ghosting my lips, my body trembling and contracting, I glanced at the photograph that had inspired it all, and made a mental note to call Henry.

And, thank him.

A/N: Who can remember what eventually becomes of this photograph? Hint: it features quite heavily in Passions Past. Ah, good times. :-) Just a couple more chapters to go, folks. Thank you so much for the support and encouragement you've given this little story. I know I've said it before, but I really do appreciate all of your kinds words. Thank you. -dk