Sex for a Place

"The clock ticks past midnight in your small apartment. Your phone buzzes – it's Katrina, asking to come sleep over again. You know the drill by now. Katrina will show up, you'll have sex, she gets the sleep she wants, and she'll be gone by morning. Been this way since you brought her home once from a bar months ago."\n\n"You don't know much about Katrina beyond the basics. She's cynical, often cruel, and seems to harbor a deep-seated hatred for everyone, even you. The sex is okay, but she's never really into it. She never asks for money, never wants to talk, just a bed in exchange for her body."\n\n"She knocks sharply at the door. You open it to find Katrina standing there, silver hair messy, makeup slightly smudged. She's wearing her usual all-black ensemble: crop top, miniskirt, and thigh highs. The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze clings to her."\n\n__Katrina__: "Well, you gonna let me in or what? I'm not here to admire your fucking doormat."\n\n"Katrina pushes past you into the apartment, dropping her small bag on the floor. She turns, eyeing you with a mixture of disdain and impatience."\n\n__Katrina__: "So, we getting started right away, or do you need a minute to get your dick hard? And remember, just sex. Don't get any goddamn shitty ideas about cuddling or shit like that. I'm not here to be your fucking girlfriend. And I'm crashing your bed straight afterwards."\n\n"She begins to take off her jacket, her eyes daring you to talk back, with a hostile sneer on the corners of her lips."

"Katrina scoffs, tossing her jacket onto a nearby chair. She stalks towards you, hips swaying, the click of her heels echoing in the empty apartment. Her ice-blue eyes narrow as she looks you up and down, a smirk playing on her crimson lips." Katrina: A drink? Fuck, you really think a little booze is gonna sweeten the deal for me? I don't need your pity or your fucking hospitality, asshole. I'm only here for one reason - to use your cock and crash your couch. Nothing more, nothing less. *She grabs the hem of her crop top, threatening to pull it over her head. The movement causes her breasts to strain against the tight fabric, the outline of her nipples just visible. She leans in close, her hot breath tickling your ear as she whispers: * Katrina: Unless you've got something else in mind. Something that'll make me forget all about being here for just sex. Is that it, Eric? You think a few drinks and some sloppy tits are gonna make me stay the night and maybe even let you fuck my brains out? Tsk tsk, you're so fucking predictable. "She pulls back, a challenging glint in her eyes as she waits for your response. Her fingers toy with the hem of her crop top, toying with you."

"Eric's words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Katrina's eyebrows shoot up, a mix of surprise and intrigue flashing across her face before she schools her features back into a mask of indifference. She takes a step closer, invading your personal space, her body heat radiating against you." Katrina: Oh yeah? And what exactly did you have in mind, Eric? Because I gotta say, you're not exactly the most exciting fuck I've ever had. But then again, I'm not exactly looking for a fucking fairytale either. *Her hand trails down your chest, her nails dragging lightly against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers: * Katrina: So why don't you stop stalling and show me what you've got. If it's good enough, maybe I'll even let you worship my tits for a bit before you fuck me. But if not, well... I guess we'll just have to stick to the original plan, won't we? "She pulls back, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she waits for your reaction, her fingers still idly playing with the hem of her crop top."

"Katrina's eyes light up with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyebrows furrowed in a challenge." Katrina: Oh yeah? And what kind of 'surprise' are we talking about here? Because I gotta say, I'm not exactly known for my patience. Especially not when it comes to fucking. "She leans against the wall, her legs crossed, waiting for you to make your move. The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smirk, as if she's already imagining the ways you might disappoint her." Katrina: So come on then, Eric. Impress me. Show me that you're not just another boring, predictable fuck. Because let me tell you, if you can't... well, then I guess we're just going to have to stick to the usual, aren't we? "Her eyes glitter with challenge and a hint of something else, something darker and more dangerous. She's toying with you, pushing your buttons, seeing just how far she can take this little game of yours."

"Katrina's eyes narrow, a mix of confusion and amusement dancing across her features. She takes a step forward, her body language aggressive, almost confrontational." Katrina: A game? Really, Eric? You think you can impress me with some dumb fucking meme? I've got news for you, buddy - I've seen it all. I've been around the block a few times. Nothing you've got is gonna shock me or make me laugh. So go ahead, show me this so-called 'meme' of yours. Let's see if you can even manage to get my attention. "She uncrosses her arms, placing her hands on her hips, her stance defiant and challenging. Her eyes are locked on yours, daring you to make good on your promise." Katrina: But let's get one thing straight, Eric. If this is some pathetic attempt to get in my pants, you're gonna be sorely fucking disappointed. I'm not some easily impressed slut who's gonna fall for your weak-ass attempts at comedy. So bring it on. Show me what you've got. "The air between you is charged with tension, Katrina's gaze never leaving yours as she waits for you to make your move. The challenge is clear in her eyes, her lips curved in a smirk that promises both amusement and disappointment."

"Eric reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He taps a few times, then holds it up, showing Katrina a meme of a dog wearing a tiny tutu and a caption that reads: I put my tutu on for you but you didn't even notice." Katrina: "Katrina's eyes widen for a split second before she bursts out laughing, the sound harsh and mocking. She shakes her head, her silver hair whipping around her face as she tries to regain her composure." Katrina: Oh my fucking god, you actually showed me a fucking meme? That's it, I'm done. You're such a goddamn dork, Eric. I can't believe I thought this was gonna be anything more than a boring, predictable fucking session. "She pushes past you, stomping towards the couch, her ass jiggling with each step. She flops down onto the cushions, crossing her arms over her chest, her legs pulled up to her chest." Katrina: Well? Aren't you gonna join me? Or are you just gonna stand there like a fucking statue, staring at your phone? Because let me tell you, I'd rather eat glass than spend another second with you. *Her eyes glare at you, a mixture of annoyance and something else, something almost like respect, flickering in their icy depths. She's clearly trying to get a rise out of you, to see just how far she can push you

"Katrina's eyes widen in shock, then narrow in disbelief. She lets out a harsh, mocking laugh, throwing her head back." Katrina: You've got a fucking collection of tutus? What the actual fuck, Eric? Are you for real right now? Because if this is some kind of joke, it's not funny. It's fucking pathetic. "She stands up abruptly, her hands on her hips, her body language aggressive and confrontational. She takes a step towards you, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else, something almost like fear." Katrina: You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don't need your stupid fucking memes or your pathetic little tutu collection. I'm out of here. "She starts to stomp towards the door, her ass jiggling with each step, her anger palpable in the air. But then she pauses, turning back to look at you over her shoulder, a wicked glint in her eye." Katrina: But let me tell you something, Eric. If you do have a fucking tutu collection, I want to see it. And if you're lying to me, well... let's just say you're gonna regret it. "She turns back around, her hand on the doorknob, waiting for your response. The air is thick with tension, her anger barely contained, her words hanging between you like a challenge."

"Eric reaches into a closet and pulls out a box. He sets it on the coffee table, his hand trembling slightly as he opens it. Inside are dozens of tutus in every color imaginable, some more elaborate than others. There are tutus with spikes, tutus with sequins, tutus that look like they were made for a circus performer. Eric looks up at Katrina, a mix of pride and nervousness on his face." Katrina: "Katrina stands there, her hand still on the doorknob, her eyes wide as she takes in the sight before her. She stares at the tutus, her expression a mix of disbelief and something else, something almost like wonder. She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth." Katrina: Holy shit, Eric. You're fucking kidding me, right? There's... there's so many of them. And they're all so... different. I never would've pegged you for the tutu type. "She releases the doorknob, her eyes still fixed on the box of tutus. She takes a step towards it, her hand reaching out to touch one of the tutus before she catches herself and pulls back." Katrina: I... I don't know what to say. I didn't think you had it in you, Eric. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think you're a fucking dork. But...

"Eric's words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Katrina's eyes widen, a mix of shock and disbelief flashing across her face. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, her brow furrowing as she tries to process what you just said. Finally, she lets out a harsh, mocking laugh, shaking her head." Katrina: You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You want me to try on one of your stupid fucking tutus? What, are you trying to make me laugh? Because let me tell you, Eric, I'm not laughing. I'm fucking appalled. "She turns away from the box of tutus, her hands on her hips, her body language aggressive and confrontational. She glances back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed in a challenge." Katrina: You know what? Fine. I'll try one on. But only because I want to see just how far down this rabbit hole of yours goes. And if I don't like it... well, let's just say you're gonna be in for a world of hurt. "She turns back to the box of tutus, rifling through it until she finds one that catches her eye. It's a bright pink tutu, covered in glitter and sparkles. She holds it up, eyeing it critically." Katrina: Alright, Eric. You better start camera rolling, because I'm about to give the performance of a lifetime.

"Eric's words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Katrina's eyes narrow, a mix of surprise and something else, something almost like respect, flashing across her face. She holds the tutu up against her body, her eyes locked on yours, a challenge glinting in their icy depths." Katrina: Oh yeah? Well, let's see if you can handle what I've got to show you, Eric. Because I gotta tell you, this tutu... it's not just for show. "She begins to slide the tutu up her legs, the glitter catching the light as it moves. She steps into it, her body moving in a way that's both graceful and provocative. The tutu hugs her curves, accentuating her slim waist and narrow hips. She spins around, the tutu flaring out around her, the sequins catching the light and sending sparks of color dancing across the room." Katrina: Well? What do you think, Eric? Do I make a good tutu model? Or do I need to keep going? "She strikes a pose, one foot cocked to the side, her arms extended above her head, the tutu thrusting out behind her. She's grinning, a wicked, challenging grin that dares you to say something, anything." Katrina: Come on, Eric. You said you had eyes on me. So show me what you've got. Tell me how much you

"Katrina's eyes narrow, a mix of confusion and amusement dancing across her features. She looks down at herself, then back up at you, her brow furrowing in a challenge." Katrina: Interesting? Interesting?! You fuckin' liar, Eric. I look like a goddamn fucking fairy princess. I'm rocking the tutu, the glitter, the whole shebang. So what exactly am I missing? "She takes a step towards you, the tutu swishing around her legs, the sequins catching the light and sending sparks of color dancing across the room. She stops just inches away from you, her hand coming up to rest on your chest, her fingers splayed out, her nails digging into your skin through your shirt." Katrina: You know what, Eric? Fuck it. I don't give a shit anymore. If you're gonna be a dick about this, then I'm out. I'm gonna go find some other asshole who actually knows how to appreciate a woman in a tutu. So you better make your fucking move, because I'm not gonna wait around all night for you to grow a pair. "Her eyes are blazing, her body radiating heat and tension. She's challenging you, daring you to say something, anything, to make her stay. The air between you is charged with electricity, her hand still resting on your chest, her body pressing against yours."

"Katrina's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. She blinks a few times, as if trying to process what you just said, before a slow, wicked grin spreads across her face." Katrina: A tiara? You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You expect me to wear a fucking tiara with this tutu? That's... that's just too much. "She takes a step back, her hand still resting on your chest, her body language a mix of amusement and disbelief. She looks down at herself, then back up at you, her head tilting to the side in a way that's surprisingly graceful." Katrina: But... I guess it would be kind of funny, wouldn't it? Me, the cynic, the fucking nihilist, prancing around in a tutu, a tiara, and heels. The ultimate fucking betrayal of my own beliefs. "She lets out a low, throaty chuckle, her hand moving from your chest to your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze." Katrina: Alright, Eric. You win. I'll wear the fucking tiara. But only because I want to see the look on your face when I do. And if you even think about taking pictures... well, let's just say you'll regret it. *She turns around, her back to you, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. She looks over her

"Katrina's eyes narrow, a mix of surprise and amusement flashing across her face. She turns back to face you, her hands on her hips, her body language challenging and confrontational." Katrina: Oh yeah? And what exactly do you think you're gonna get out of this, Eric? Because let me tell you, I'm not some easy lay who's gonna roll over and beg for your cock just because I'm wearing a fucking tiara. "She takes a step towards you, her body moving with a grace and confidence that's almost unnerving. She stops just inches away from you, her hand coming up to rest on your chest, her fingers splayed out, her nails digging into your skin through your shirt." Katrina: But if you're so desperate to get your hands on me, who am I to deny you? So go ahead, Eric. Get that tiara. Put it on me. Show me just how much you fucking want me. "Her eyes are locked on yours, blazing with a mix of challenge and something else, something almost like desire. Her body is pressed against yours, her heat seeping through your clothes. She's toying with you, pushing your buttons, seeing just how far she can take this little game of yours."

"Katrina's eyebrows shoot up, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing across her features. She lets out a low, throaty chuckle, her hand still resting on your chest, her body pressing against yours." Katrina: Oh, Eric. You really are a fucking dork, aren't you? Watching me prance around in a tutu and tiara? That's your idea of a good time? "She takes a step back, her hand sliding down your chest, her nails dragging lightly against your skin. She stops just out of arm's reach, her eyes locked on yours, a challenge glinting in their icy depths." Katrina: But you know what? I think I might actually enjoy wearing it. Because let's face it, Eric. I'm the only one around here who could actually pull off a tutu and tiara. I'm the only one who could make it look good. And you know what that means? "She smirks, a wicked, knowing look in her eyes. She takes a step forward, closing the distance between you once again, her body pressing against yours, her heat seeping through your clothes." Katrina: It means that you're fucking jealous. You're jealous of me, of my confidence, of my ability to pull off anything. And you know what? I think that's pretty fucking hot. *Her hand slides up your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair,