His Kitten

Chapter 1 - Introducing Kat

A/N: Firstly, this is my first story so pleeeease be kind! I do welcome constructive criticism though. Also, Kat (the protagonist) swears a lot. She's quite feisty and rough around the edges. If you can't handle frequent swearing/cussing, please don't continue reading this story.

Kat's POV

For fucks sake. Could this day get any worse? I mean, really. How does all this shit happen to one person in one day? I fucking hate clubs. And people. And life in general. Aaaargh!

***

My day started off with the exit interview from hell. I was finally free of that shitty publishing house but that didn't mean Mr Carmichael would go any easier on me on my last day. The gall of the man. He actually had the nerve to insinuate that I was leaving because I was sexually attracted to him and had sour grapes because he didn't return the affection for a "fatass", as he so elegantly put it. Ugh. Just the thought of anything remotely sexual involving that man made me want to throw up. I don't think he appreciated me verbalising that thought though, judging by his furious, red-faced tirade that followed.

I left the building soon after that horrendous meeting, hoping that the day would get better, considering it was a Friday and I had zero obligations for the rest of the weekend. Wishful thinking. Not even an hour later, I was standing drenched in someone's iced coffee at Starbucks because the idiot was too busy staring at his phone to notice that he was walking straight into the queue, and in particular, me. After giving him a piece of my mind, I dragged my coffee-soaked self the few blocks to my apartment, praying that I wouldn't have to run into my asshole neighbour.

You guessed it. It was just not to be. As I reached my apartment door, the jackass was leaving his and couldn't stop himself from making a few disparaging comments about how I should clean up and fast, because nobody needed to see my huge stomach through my wet shirt.

I fucking hate people. Ninety-nine percent of them are fucktards. Which is why I usually choose to be alone, with the exception of my bestie, Alice. Her name is Alyssa but only I get to call her Alice, just like she's the only one who gets to call me Kat, although my full name is Katrina.

After I cleaned up in my apartment, I decided to do some grocery shopping. A nice hot meal and a bottle of wine sounded good. But alas, it was not to be. I was getting ready to leave when I got a call from a blubbering, tearful Alice. Turns out her fucking dimwit boyfriend had been cheating on her for the past few months (which was basically the majority of their relationship). I knew I didn't like that bitch for a reason. So I told Alice to come over and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching chick flicks (my one embarrassing weakness) and eating Ben & Jerry's cookie dough flavoured ice cream.

At around 9pm, Alice decided that she really needed the club tonight. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love this girl, except when she gets into one of her clubbing moods. I hate clubs. Too many people. Too many drunk people. Too many amorous people reminding me that I will forever be alone. Ugh. But as I said, I love her, and she needed this, for some reason that only she knows. Something to do with letting her hair down and stress relief. So we found ourselves getting dressed at my place and preparing for a night out. Alice basically had her own wardrobe at my place. She chose a glittering gold, short and strappy dress with sexy gold stilettos. The beads on her dress shimmered with every move she made and I couldn't help but look at her in envy. She would be turning heads, for sure.

ALICE