Chapter 23

Kitty 

I hadn’t realised I had picked up and buckled on the collar until Astrid mentioned it.  

It was automatic. 

And I was stressed out of my mind. 

Getting my hair floofed and makeup done was a world away from our other recent dressing-up escapade. 

That blew every part of my mind. 

When Astrid strapped the dildo onto me. 

At first, it was beyond bizarre. 

But when Astrid began to grind against it, it became my… for want of a better word, my cock. 

As she moved against me, the uncomfortable pressure on my clit started to feel good, and then great. 

In the end, it drove me wild in a way I couldn’t have imagined. 

I still hadn’t taken that in. 

All I knew was that it felt good. 

Really good. 

Appropriate. 

Appropriate. 

Being appropriate. 

The suit felt appropriate. 

The cock too. 

My dress was appropriate. But I didn’t feel it.

I was glad Astrid was coming with me to the dinner. She seemed so at ease as I watched her accentuate her black outfit with a pearl white jacket. 

She looked so sophisticated. 

And yet… 

Was it a good idea to show up with her?

I had been so confident that I shouldn’t hide this part of myself. But what would Dr Palmer think of it? Or Professor Harris for that matter? 

“All done,” Astrid cheered and turned to stand in front of the bed where I sat. 

She stroked my cheek and leaned over to softly kiss my lips. 

I smiled weakly. 

“Up, darling.” 

“Yes, Miss,” I stood. 

“Turn around,” Astrid smiled.

“Yes, Miss,” I curtseyed and obeyed. 

Astrid unbuckled my collar and reverently set it on the bed. 

Returning to the back of me, she reached around my neck. 

“There,” she said with satisfaction as I heard a small clasp clip, “that can be your collar for tonight.”

I turned to look at her and she was smiling so kindly my heart melted. 

I stepped around her to look in the vanity mirror and saw an unfamiliar twitchy looking woman staring back at me. 

It was like that first night when I went to Loose Lips. When Tara had made me up. I could see that I looked good, pretty even. But it just didn’t feel right at all. 

I focused on the gold chain around my neck. It was delicate and thin, made of oval links so it looked like an actual chain rather than a simple necklace. 

I brushed it with my fingertips. 

“It’s beautiful, Miss.” 

“Thank you,” she winced, “I hope it’s alright… It was a friend’s.”

I didn’t want to press her for details.

“It’s beautiful,” I repeated and then feeling foolish added, “Yes, of course it is, Miss. It’s wonderful and I’m glad to have something there. It makes me feel… better… Miss”

Astrid smiled warmly. 

She walked to the wardrobe and drew out a thin black clutch handbag. 

“If you want this,” she offered, “It kind of matches the dress.”

I looked at the small bag with a gold clasp. It only just then occurred that I would need something when I didn’t have pockets.

“Oh, yes,” I flushed, “I mean, yes please, Miss.”

I crammed my phone, keys, and collar into the tiny bag as Astrid packed another clutch for herself.

“It’s going to be fine,” Astrid reassured, “They are going to love you, and you are going to do great.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I curtseyed gratefully, noting the odd distribution of weight from my hair on my head as I did. 

It was bizarre how combing over and spraying up some of my hair made me feel lopsided. 

At the same time, it felt like such a delicate arrangement I needed to carefully manoeuvre under it, like a girl learning good posture walking with a book on her head.

Not wanting to move more than I had to, so as to preserve the balance of my precarious appearance, I called us a cab rather than risk the bus. 

The ride there was thankfully quick and the cab dropped us off right outside the campus. 

Astrid surveyed the buildings as I paid the driver. 

“I could show you around before we go in?” I asked as the cab drove off.

“Oh, no,” she peered through the wrought iron gate, “I’ve made deliveries here before.”

My blood ran cold. 

The idea of Astrid walking into my department and handing over packages… 

No, I wasn’t going to think about that. 

There was no way they would recognise her. 

Not the way she was dressed now, certainly.

“So, where to?” Astrid interrupted my panicked train of thought. 

I led Astrid into the campus and through the rabbit warren of hallways and creaking staircases up to the faculty dining room. 

We hung our coats in the cloakroom and entered into the grand hall, bedecked with oak paneling and large windows draped with dark red curtains. A long oblong table in the middle of the room was set for dinner, surrounded by matching chairs with red cushioned backs and seats. 

We stood in the entrance, Astrid’s arm resting in the crook of mine, as she took it all in. 

I had no idea where to place myself as I stared at the mingling faculty, all chatting in their little cliques. 

Finally I saw my supervisor wandering towards us and I smiled as he approached, grateful for a friendly face. 

“Katherine?” he asked, incredulous, “I _thought_ that was you, my goodness…”

My heart turned to ice and my cheeks burned red. 

“Um… yes, hi Mike,” I stammered.

“You look wonderful,” he complimented, and turned to Astrid. 

“Hello, I’m Mike,” he introduced himself.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mike, I’m Astrid” she replied with ease and reached forward to shake his hand, “Quite the place you have here.”

“Oh, yes,” Mike laughed shyly, “A little ostentatious for sure, but I suppose there are some perks to being in the History Department.”

I was grateful for their easy back and forth as I recovered myself. 

“Yes, indeed, um… Mike, this is Astrid… my partner,” I was embarrassed again, and turned to Astrid, “Shit, sorry, you’d already said your name.”

“It’s alright,” Astrid smiled warmly and turned to Mike again, “Katherine is being very kind, I was a little nervous to come tonight, I must admit.”

I looked at her confused.

“I know I shouldn’t worry,” she sighed as I realised she was covering for me so gracefully, “but even in this day and age, you know.”

Mike nodded seriously. 

“Yes, of course,” he replied, overtly empathetic, “But please… there’s no need to worry. We may be the History Department, but we do our best not to be antediluvian.” 

Astrid chuckled and I wondered for a moment if she knew what ’antediluvian’ was. 

“But please, let me introduce you two,” Mike offered and led the way into the rest of the room. 

Mike had taken it upon himself to make sure everyone knew Astrid and I were a couple, as we met different constellations of faculty. 

It was kind of sweet, but also felt like he was overcompensating somewhat. 

Astrid took it all in perfect stride however, introducing herself, making small talk, mentioning the decor, the campus, and a small joke about expecting the place to be covered in scrolls. 

She charmed everyone, and I was about to relax, until we finished our circuit of the room to meet Professor Harris who was talking with Dr Palmer. 

“Oh my, is that Katherine?” Professor Harris exclaimed. 

“Ah… yes sir, it is,” I stumbled and Astrid looked at me sideways with a bemused smirk. 

“My, don’t you look… different,” Dr Palmer noted coldly. 

“Yes, I suppose,” I chuckled nervously, lifting a hand to my hair. 

“Yes indeed,” Professor Harris concurred, “But please, who is this fine lady on your arm?”

“This is Astrid,” Mike said quickly. 

“How do you do, I’m Kitty’s partner, Astrid, and I must say it is a pleasure to be invited to such a lovely evening,” Astrid stepped in.

“How charming,” Professor Harris nodded approvingly, “But yes, of course, we want to make everyone welcome to bring their… err… significant other?” 

My painted smile ached as Professor Harris carried on. 

“The wife is at home tonight though. A function for the Embassy,” Professor Harris explained, “I think she books these things on purpose so she doesn’t have to spend an evening with her stuffy husband in a dusty old nook at the University!”

Astrid chuckled and Professor Harris smiled. 

Dr Palmer scowled. 

“I’m sure, that’s not the case,” Astrid insisted, “Katherine has told me how happy she is here and I have been looking forward very much to meeting you all.” 

“Well, you must join us then!” he motioned grandly to the table, “We were about to sit and I would be delighted if you and Katherine would join us at the head?”

“Please,” Astrid replied easily, and looked at me, “How kind.”

“Oh, yes sir,” I said to the Professor quickly, which seemed to amuse Astrid again, but she covered it well. 

“Oh, do call me Algie,” the Professor waved me off, “No need for formalities here.”

I started to stammer an apology but Astrid saved me again. 

“Oh, Algie, I’m not sure you are being quite honest now, you have rather laid out an impressive spread.”

“Touché,” Professor Harris laughed uproariously. 

I looked to Dr Palmer, whose scowl managed to have deepened. 

I tried to ignore her as I let myself be led to the head of the table. 

We all sat, Astrid opposite me, the Professor to the right at the end of the table, and Dr Palmer to my left. She seemed to be especially displeased by something. 

Astrid continued to dazzle as the first course arrived. 

“Now, what’s all this then, Algie?” Astrid gestured to the soup laid in front of her. 

“Gazpacho,” he grinned, “I confess it’s a favourite of mine, though I know not everyone likes cold soup!” 

The Professor laughed loudly at his own joke.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll choke it down,” Astrid teased and winked at me. 

I suppressed a giggle and felt my shoulders loosen ever so slightly.

“Not everyone knows it’s supposed to be served cold, Professor,” Dr Palmer noted, looking at me. 

“Oh, it’s an easy mistake to make,” the Professor slurped.

“Algie, manners!” Astrid playfully slapped his arm.

I froze. 

The Professor looked up at her surprised and then burst out laughing. 

“No, no, of course,” he lifted his napkin to his lips between chuckles. 

“It’s a joke from Red Dwarf,” Mike interjected, “The tv show? Not knowing the soup is supposed to be served cold.”

“I’m quite sure I haven’t seen it,” Dr Palmer bristled. 

“Oh, you should,” Astrid replied cheerily, “It is really quite funny. All about class and capitalism amongst other things.”

“I shall have to look it up in the Radio Times,” the Professor concluded, being more mindful not to slurp.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure class is such a suitable topic for comedy,” Dr Palmer muttered. 

“Oh?” Professor Harris raised a bushy eyebrow. 

“Always making fun of those who are a bit better off,” Dr Palmer huffed, “It’s rude and well, not funny.”

Astrid shifted in her seat and our little part of the table grew quiet. 

“I’m more of a Monty Python girl, myself,” I offered, embarrassed I had. 

“Oh, yes, the Deceased Parrot,” Professor Harris muttered, “Jolly good fun. Even if they are Cantabrigians.”

Astrid glanced at the Professor but didn’t say anything. 

And that’s how we continued. 

Astrid carried the conversation by gently ribbing the Professor, something he seemed to be endlessly amused by. 

I would never have dared to tease him like that. 

I could barely bring myself to speak throughout the meal so Astrid checked in regularly with exchanged smiles. 

It seemed the evening might go well after all, and perhaps I had no reason to be so nervous. 

“Okay, so what is this now?” Astrid joshed the Professor, pointing to the plate.

“Another favourite of mine,” the Professor nudged Astrid’s elbow with his own, “Not sure if it really follows the rest, but I confess not to mind.”

“Seared scallops,” Dr Palmer said testily. Perhaps they weren’t her favourite. 

Astrid nodded, “I must admit to not having had them before.” 

“Oh no?” the Professor asked. 

“Not really a common feature of the menu where I grew up.” 

“They look lovely,” I tried to interject, getting nervous again, but the Professor didn’t notice. 

“Oh, and where was that?” he asked Astrid. 

“Nottingham,” she answered, with the slightest wince.

“Oh how lovely, I have some friends who live in The Park,” the Professor replied cheerfully. 

“Not quite my neighbourhood, I’m afraid,” Astrid admitted with a smile. 

“And where was that then?” Dr Palmer perked up.

“I grew up on an estate in the city,” Astrid replied. 

“Oh? Which estate? My wife might know the family?” the Professor asked cluelessly and I started to sweat. 

“Not that kind of estate,” Astrid smiled and touched the Professor’s arm gently. 

Dr Palmer shuffled forward in her seat. 

“Um… where did you grow up Professor?” I trembled and Astrid looked at me oddly. 

“Me?” the Professor turned to me, “Oh, my family are from Devonshire. Proper country folk!”

He belly laughed again, and I wasn’t sure why but chuckled along regardless. 

“Tell me, Astrid,” Dr Palmer piped up, “What is it that you do?”

My stomach dropped. 

I looked at Astrid and panicked. 

“I’m a despatch rider,” Astrid replied unabashedly. 

“What’s that?” the Professor asked, perplexed.  

“It’s a bike messenger, Professor,” Dr Palmer looked at me with a smirk. 

“Well, a scooter in my case,” Astrid smiled. 

“On a… scooter?” the Professor asked, confused. 

“Yeah, my little Vespa,” Astrid grinned back at him, “Clapped out old thing, but I do love her so.”

Dr Palmer looked triumphant. 

“So, you didn’t go to school here?” she asked Astrid. 

“No,” Astrid looked confused at her and then looked to me for direction, “I dropped out when I left Nottingham.”

“Well…” Dr Palmer concluded, “It’s not for everyone I suppose. An education, I mean.”

I stared at Dr Palmer and then to Astrid. 

For the first time that night I could see Astrid was uncertain. 

And then she was angry. 

I shook my head at her, begging her not to make a scene. 

She narrowed her eyes at me. 

I just looked back, terrified. 

“I… suppose,” Astrid said between tight lips. 

“So, you tootle around town on your scooter all day?” Dr Palmer dug in further. 

Astrid turned her gaze back to the doctor. 

“That’s about the size of it,” she replied shortly. 

“Sounds jolly good fun to me,” the Professor spoke up, oblivious. 

Astrid looked at the Professor and then back to me. 

“So… what’s for dessert?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. 

The Professor looked confused. 

“Crème Brûlée, I believe,” he answered, absent-mindedly. 

“It must be nice,” Dr Palmer returned to Astrid, “Delivering packages all day, not having to concern yourself with loftier things.”

The table went deathly silent. 

“Yes, well,” the Professor coughed, “I wonder where that dessert has got to?”

The rest of the meal was much quieter. 

The Professor regaled his joy of ice-cream, whilst Dr Palmer went on about her recent studies of Chaucer. 

She asked Astrid with a sneer if she had ever read the Classics. 

“It’s been a while since The Canterbury Tales,” Astrid replied stiffly, “but I prefer his poetry.”

Dr Palmer deflated, but I could see Astrid was seething. 

I was rigid with nerves, begging for the night to be over.

Dessert was short and Astrid excused herself to the bathroom as soon as the dishes were removed. 

I moved to follow but was stopped by Dr Palmer, who leaned in close. 

“Just a word of advice, Katherine, you really must dress more modestly for these functions.”

I looked at her, speechless. 

“You may not be used to being in these kinds of environments, with your girlfriend and all,” she explained with a visible disdain, “but you should really consider how seriously the rest of the faculty take you, if you attend events dressed like that.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut and I feared I was going to cry. 

Unthinking, I nodded and stood, and as I did, I saw Astrid standing near the door, looking at me. 

Astrid 

I was livid. 

No, not that. 

Fucking volcano furious. 

I wanted to bite the little shit’s head off. 

And I would have, if not for Kitty. 

But I couldn’t say anything, because despite the seethe of rage and humiliation, I didn’t actually want to cause trouble for her. 

I didn’t trust myself to speak much at the end of dinner and kept steely silent as Kitty and I walked out onto the street. 

“I’ll call a cab, Miss,” Kitty struggled with her mobile in the clutch I’d lent her. 

“Rather take the tube,” I growled and strode in that direction.

Kitty trotted up to join me, tripping over herself in her heels. 

“Shit,” she cursed as she caught up to me. 

We jostled into the station without a word. 

All I could think of was that despicable fuck who cast me as gutter-trash. 

And no one said anything. 

Not the toff professor, not Mike, and not Kitty. 

I seethed as we stepped onto the tube and sat on tiny little cushioned benches, facing each other. 

“Miss, can we talk.”

“What about?”

“About just now, Miss. With the… with Dr Palmer.”

“About what an unbelievable shit-stain she was to me?” I asked, heat rising in my face. 

“Y… Yes Miss,” Kitty whispered, which pissed me off even more. 

“Well?” 

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Kitty whispered again. 

“What for?” I spoke each word deliberately. 

Kitty paused. 

“For the way she treated you, Miss.”

“Why would you be sorry for that, Kitty, you weren’t the one who said anything?”

She paused again.

“I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”  

“And why the fuck didn’t you?” I tried to hold back.

“I was embarrassed,” she offered weakly. 

“You were embarrassed?!” I shouted, “How the fuck do you think I feel?”

“Please, Miss,” Kitty shushed, looking around. 

I craned my neck to see the other passengers, sitting and standing in the carriage. 

“Oh? Are you worried I’ll cause a scene here too?!” I gestured to the people behind me, “You don’t even know these people. You’ll never see them again. What the fuck do you care?!”

Kitty looked flushed and scared. 

“I… I’m sorry, Miss.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re sorry for, Kitty.”

She sat in silence. 

We pulled into Euston and I stood, quickly followed by Kitty. 

I marched to the escalator, Kitty still struggling to catch up in her heels. I turned to face her as we rode up and glared at her. 

“I am sorry, Miss,” Kitty begged, “I should have said something.”

“Yes, you should have,”

Tears rose, and I ached not to cry. 

Kitty looked up at me, imploring. 

I couldn’t say anything, afraid of what might come out.

We left the station and marched to the bus stop without another word. 

The number 30 was quick to arrive and we were soon sitting together on the top deck, near the front overlooking the rolling street. 

“I really am sorry, Miss,” Kitty repeated, “Dr Palmer was horrid.”

I bristled at her choice of words, but my heart softened a little. 

“Those things she said were awful, Kitty.”

Kitty nodded. 

We sat for a moment, still again. 

She reached over and took my hand. 

Despite the pain in my chest, I let her. 

Another bus stop went by. 

“I should probably dress more like this every day at the department,” Kitty sighed as she looked out the window. 

My blood ran cold 

“Why?!” I was aghast. 

“To fit in, I suppose,” Kitty replied, sadly. 

I let go over her hand, the tears rose again, but now the rage let loose too. 

“To fit in with them?!” I shrieked at her. 

She looked startled back at me. 

“To fit in with people who could behave that way?! You want to be like them, to what, get by?!”

“It’s the way it’s done,” Kitty flumoxed and my mind exploded.

“How it’s done?! How what’s done?”

“You know, how people present themselves, how they behave,” she explained.

“How they behave? You mean, upper-class fuckwits who look down on the likes of me?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Kitty insisted. 

“Then how is it like?”

“It’s security,” she proffered, “I want to do well there, I want to get a position there. I need to be secure in my place there.”

“Security?” I was icy numb, “What security? Security to be like that? Don’t you want to be free?”

“What, like you?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” I panicked.

“Well, you just roam around. Ride your scooter all day, or not. Take another job or not. You don’t have to build a career,” she said with such ease, I couldn’t believe what I heard at first.

“What’s wrong with that? It means I’m not dependent on anything, I can get by,” I shuddered, before leaning into her, “And so could you! You don’t have to do what they’re doing.”

“I can’t live like that.”

The colour drained from my face. 

“You don’t know what it’s like, how hard it is to work for something like this all your life,” she carried on regardless, “Not knowing what my trajectory would be… I can’t just get a scooter and ride off with nothing more than a care.”

“Nothing more than a care?” I asked quietly, “Do you know how hard I work? How much harder I have to work to pay you back for the repair?” 

“You don’t need to do that, Miss,” she entreated with a broken smile, “You don’t have to pay me back.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, frigid cold. 

“You don’t have to pay me back, I don’t need it,” she waved her hand, “I called my uncle, who gave it to me because I couldn’t quite cover it with the overdraft. He’s not expecting it back.”

I couldn’t find the words. 

I just stared at her. 

“It’s fine,” she insisted, “It’s just money.”

“It’s just money?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled stifly and touched my knee, “It’s fine. You could just carry on doing what you do, and I can work and have my career, pay for anything you can’t afford.”

“Kitty,” I tried to measure my words but failed, “It is not fine… Tonight… Your colleagues humiliated me, and you let them. And now… You’re, what? Throwing money at me, to solve that? As if that’s going to make it okay?”

Kitty looked at me silently, confused.

“You don’t respect what I do, do you?” I inhaled, “You’re just like them? What?! You just see a penniless waif with a shit job and no education?”

“It’s not like that,” Kitty complained.

“You can’t imagine I don’t want anything to do with that shit, can you?! That pompous, stuck up, upper-class…,” I couldn’t keep the words from spilling out, tears burning at the edges of my eyes, “And it’s been like that all this time hasn’t it? You’re embarrassed by me? You didn’t want your colleagues to know what I did…”

The realisation cut me. 

I felt something bleed inside. 

Kitty glanced away, giving all the confirmation I needed. 

“You didn’t, did you?!” I bit at her, “You… have no idea do you? You have no idea what it’s like to be anything other than like them.”

She stared at me horrified.

“And you have the gall to look down on me?!” 

Kitty looked around embarrassed and that was the last straw.

“You have no idea what it’s like do you?!” I stood and slapped my chest, “To be a dyke and poor.”

“Miss…”

“No, you don’t!” I shouted, “Just because you’re gay and don’t want to wear skirts, you think you have the monopoly on problems. You can’t see what it’s like for people like me. Fuck, Kitty, do you even know who you’re doing any of this for?! Is this even something you actually want?! Or are you doing it because it’s safe? Something you were handed, or told to want?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Of course it’s not fucking fair!” I spat, “That’s the whole point! It’s not fucking fair. None of it is!”

I stared at her. 

“You… you don’t respect me,” I said quietly, ”And what was being my girl? Some sort of play at being my subordinate? Whilst you feel superior in every other way? 

Kitty stared back at me. 

“I just… I just can’t,” I threw up my hands and launched for the stairs. 

“Miss?” Kitty asked urgently. 

“I’m going home,” I continued walking. 

She started to get up. 

“Alone!” I swivelled to a stop.

“But, Miss… I just wanted to take care of you,” Kitty begged.

“You patronising fucking…” I croaked, ”You… You don’t get to own me like that. We… we are done. I can’t… I won’t let you…” 

“Misstress…” she entreated.

“Do not fucking call me that!” I lost it, “You don’t get to have disdain for who I am, and use my title! I will send you the money as soon as I can get it together. Just… just don’t come near me. Don’t call me!”

I marched down the stairs to the bottom deck and punched the stop button, and then again a hammered it a bunch more times, willing the bus to pull to a screeching halt. 

Kitty hurried down the stairs after me. 

“But, Miss, I love you,” she urged. 

“No, you don’t!” I threw back at her, “How could you possibly love me?! You think I’m an ignorant, working-class, lazy… beneath you… nothing.”

She stared at me.

“You don’t love me!” I screeched, tears streaming, “You never did… and I don’t even know why you said you did.”

The bus pulled to a stop and I jumped off. 

Kitty moved to follow.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” I screamed and she stopped in her tracks. 

The doors closed on her and the bus drove away. 

I don’t know how I got into my flat. 

My walk there from whatever bus stop I had got off at was a blur. 

My coat and bag were dropped on the floor by the door next to kicked off shoes. 

I must have sat and then fallen onto the bed. 

At first I was numb.  

Then terrified. 

Then devastated. 

Then shattered and desolate. 

And then I didn’t know what. 

I wanted to wail. 

I think I did. 

I curled into a bawl, eyeliner caking the bunched up bedspread under my face. 

My stomach spasmed and my chest heaved. 

My mind was gone and I was out of control. 

I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking and trembling, and begged for it to be over. 

To pass. 

But knowing somewhere, far away, that it wouldn’t. 

I had no sense of how long I laid there like that. 

I might have fallen asleep and woken again. 

I found at some point the tears had stopped and all that was left was fatigue. 

I was numb again. 

I lay there, silent. Broken hearted and just broken.

The mobile had been ringing a while by the time I registered it. 

I peeled my face from the bed and reached for the phone. 

It was Jen. 

Could I face talking to her? 

I needed her. I knew in my heart that I did. But that heart was crushed, and I had no idea if I could even speak. 

I opened my mouth and another wail nearly escaped me. 

I raised one hand to my mouth as if to hold it in. 

With the other I clicked ’accept’ and raised the phone to my ear. 

We hung our coats in the cloakroom and entered into the grand hall, bedecked with oak panelling and large windows draped with dark red curtains. A long oblong table in the middle of the room was set for dinner, surrounded by matching chairs with red cushioned backs and seats.