When Rain - a dreamy designer - buys an antique cross, she begins to see visions of her previous life in her lucid dreams. A series of accidental events begin to bring the people from her dreams into her real life: Charlie - a quirky girl from the p...
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"What the fuck? Who was that?" asked Matt, sluggishly lifting his head from the pillow. He had a cigarette stub in one hand and an empty whiskey bottle under the other. He eyed his chick keenly while she walked across the room and set herself on the bar stool.
The girl threw a yellow envelope in front of her and turned to look back at Matt.
"There was some miss, asking me to give this to that jerk with a dog."
"The fuck we need the door-phone for? You know better than to let random people in." Matt turned around and put his hands over his head. "Kitty, be a good girl, pass me another bottle. Head's exploding."
"I thought that Dick of yours came again. He always needs some crap in the morning." As she said that, Kitty moved obediently behind the bar table and reached out to the highest shelf to get a fresh Connemara bottle.
Matt narrowed his lids, getting a better view at Kitty's ass, almost covered by his shirt that said, "I'm single tonight."
"Not the worst morning ever," Matt thought. "I have to get rid of her before two. I guess I won't come home alone either way. Kitty's fine, she gets me, she never asks questions. Besides, she sucks like an angel. And has a hot butt."
Kitty took her time trying to get the bottle, as if she was reading Matt's mind, and sometimes she managed to reveal her tanned back.
Inspired by the view, Matt watched her closely.
After he released a track that in less than a month had conquered all the charts, he seemed to have it all: any chick, free rounds in any bar, and the best offers from producers. Mathew Leutte was living a dream.
The only annoying thing was his exacting manager, Dick. And that was his name, not his description.
He always insisted on so many dumb details. Once he decided that Matt had to quit drinking, then he decided that Matt needed a new style.
Why wouldn't he go to...
Life was amazing as it was. And Kitty was just the cherry on the cake. It was Kitty II, there was a first one too, and billions of them. Any girl he had ever fucked was Kitty. Matt never had to get whores. Kitties were always around to please him.
Everywhere he went, he usually wore sunglasses, not because he was too cool, but because he had horrible hangovers.
Two of the Kitties, Kitty I and Kitty II, were almost like girlfriends to him. They were around on Mondays and Thursdays, left before he got bored, but stayed as long as he wanted them. They knew what he liked; he didn't give a damn about their preferences.
Kitty one, Kitty two, Matt is fucking both of you, he thought as Kitty II turned the bottle over to him and started climbing under the blanket. Matt opened the Connemara and took a gulp of the strong-flavored whiskey. That didn't cure the chaos inside his mind, but he closed his eyes, tapped a remote, and got ready to enjoy Nirvana and a splendid morning blowjob. Everything was perfect until Kitty's head appeared above the blanket.
