It's not the ocean, but the lake is beautiful, and according to the guy I asked at the supermarket where I bought the supplies, there's no problems with snakes or alligators. The blanket we snatched from our hotel room, and Katrina carries it folded over her arm as we walk toward the shore, holding hands. “A picnic, huh?”

I shrug. “I know that I come off as a rich boy,” I say, thinking about the skirt that Katrina's put on again. She looks so fucking sexy in it. “I know that I like to make it rain sometimes, but I can enjoy the simpler things in life too, you know.”

“I know,” Katrina replies, giving me a meaningful look. “Jackson, my opinion of you has changed from a few weeks ago. Yeah, I know you still enjoy the money, but this... this is very nice, too. Come on, let's enjoy.”

Katrina spreads out the blanket while I arrange my backpack, which we filled with items grabbed from the supermarket's deli: fried chicken, potato salad, and sweet tea, with a tub of banana pudding for dessert. A certifiable Southern feast. “You're really willing to risk that stuff calling itself tea after what happened earlier with the stuff at the cafe?”

“As long as I keep telling myself it's not tea, I can live with it,” I say. “Besides, it's better for us than Coke, and you said you don't drink alcohol, right?”

“No, I never drink it by choice,” Katrina says, curling her legs underneath her. “I know, it's weird.”

I sit down and open the container of chicken. “Actually, if it doesn't cause you pain, I'd like to hear more. You've told me some, but you’re still a mystery.”

Katrina thinks, then nods. “Okay. Well, you kind of got the basics. After the bomb, I was pretty screwed up, and bounced to two foster homes before landing with Virginia. She's had her own issues, and while she never told me all the details, let's just say she had her own vendetta that she dealt with. But through her, I learned to channel my anger and frustration, to focus on what was necessary. But it also blinded me to some things as well.”

“It's fine,” I dismiss, handing her a paper plate with food on it. “Go on.”

“Well, the first thing she taught me was mental focus. I was taught to use my anger to burn away everything that wasn't focused on my goal. I was taught a meditation, one that, thinking about it now, does give me some regrets.”

“How's it go?” I ask, and Katrina shakes her head, embarrassed. “It's okay. I won't be upset, no matter what it is.”

Katrina looks at me, her light blue eyes questioning, and reaches a decision. “Okay. Here's how it goes.

Pretty morbid stuff, isn't it?”

I swallow, hearing the icy rage in her voice as she repeated the mantra, and nod. “Yeah, but I understand now. After today... I understand more.”

“Well, from there I learned to let go of a lot of concerns about legality. I learned to evaluate things more on what’s moral rather than what’s strictly legal. I learned about computers as you know, and more martial arts, and the Touches... well, those you know about.” Katrina looks shy, and I love it. “I guess nothing all that useful.”

“Oh, I think one of those is useful,” I say, grinning, but I realize it’s probably not the best time. “No, but seriously, I had a silly image last night, during one of the times that I woke up, before the dream got disturbing.”

“Oh? What was it?” Katrina asks, and I wave her off. “Come on, it can't be that silly.”

“Well, I had a dream that you and I opened a gym together,” I tell her, sipping at the tea. It's horrible, but not as bad as the stuff this morning, maybe because it's still pretty much ice cold and a lot of the sweetness is numbed. “You taught women how to kick ass like you do, and I taught people how to get ripped. Oh, and you taught me some of your tricks.”

“You seem to have a pretty natural skill, I don't think you need the Touches,” Katrina jokes.

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind feeling them again,” I say, grinning.

* * *

I'm lying in bed after reading for the past hour and trying to get my mind on anything other than today's events. Going to Katrina's parents' apartment, the beat down, and running away are part of it, but instead, my mind wants to go back to the feeling of her in my arms, the way she felt when we kissed, and the desire that flowed through me the rest of the day.

I look over at Katrina, who's sleeping, her lips slightly parted, so soft and kissable...

“Shit,” I mutter, lying back on my side of the bed. I can't get up and go to the bathroom to beat off, that’s fucking shameful. I haven't had to beat off to alleviate blue balls since... well, ever. At least I'm not standing at attention right this second, although my cock is awake and telling me all sorts of things it would like to do right now.

I close my eyes, hoping that maybe I can get some sleep, and maybe I do drift off, because the next thing I’m aware of is a light Touch on my forearm, sending warm sparks through me, and I hum slightly. “Mmm...”

“Shh,” Katrina whispers in my ear, her hand touching another area, and even though I'm in a fantasy, I know I'm also awake. My eyes open, and I see that Katrina's turned on the little lamp next to her side of the bed, and she's taken off all of her clothes. I blink, making sure I'm not imagining things.

“Katrina?”

“Tonight... I want there to be a future tonight,” she whispers, her voice choked with feeling, and I notice she's pulled the bedspread down, removing the barrier between us. “Tonight... show me what it can be.”

She touches me again, and I'm fully awake, fully aware of what's happening, but still clear-headed, my desire for her completely natural, not manufactured by what she's doing. She leans down, her body sliding over mine, and looks into my eyes. “Katrina...”

“Be my first, Jackson,” she pleads, her eyes filled with emotion. “Be my first real lover.”

I nod, and she lowers her lips the last few inches, and we kiss. What I don't tell her, what I want to tell her, is that I've never had a real lover either, not the way she's talking about anyway. And in that kiss, she's my first as well.