Addy's Couch: Welcome Anastasia Vitsky

(Ana enters, curling her fingers backward in a summoning motion.)

Ana: Come in, Kat. Don’t be shy.

(Enter a tall figure in knee-high brown boots, a charcoal wool skirt, and black sweater with a carmine scarf doubled around her neck. She shakes Addy’s hand.)

 

Natalie: Nice to meet you, Ms. Raine. Thank you for inviting us today. What a beautiful setup you have here.

Addy: Oh, please call me Addy. No need to be so formal.

Natalie: Then you must call me Natalie. (She turns to the door.) Kat, honey. Come on.

(Dark eyes peep around the door frame, and a pale face surveys the room.)

Addy: Is this Kat? I’m so glad to meet you!

Ana: Kat, this is Addy who wanted to meet you and Natalie. You and I can talk any time, Addy, so don’t let me interfere. I’ll make myself comfortable in the other room.

(The face disappears into the hallway, and Natalie crosses the room. Low sounds of “we talked about this” and “you promised you would at least try” carry into the silent room. Ana shrugs apologetically at Addy.)

Ana, as she is walking toward the adjoining room: We did talk about this, and Kat said she’d give it a try. She did a great job at my Fika for Christmas, after all. I think it’s the book coming out that’s gotten her nervous.

Addy: I can’t wait to ask them about the book!

(Natalie re-enters, this time leading a blushing Kat by the hand. They seat themselves on the couch, Kat first smoothing her rose-pink skirt and then burrowing into Natalie’s side. The delicate rosebud embroidery of her chiffon top stands out against the black background of Natalie’s sweater.)

Natalie: My apologies, Addy. I hope we haven’t taken up too much of your time.

Addy: Oh, not at all. I’m so sorry you’re nervous, Kat. Is there anything I can do to help?

(Kat shakes her head, and Natalie squeezes her hand.)

Natalie: I hear from Ana that you’d like to ask us some questions. What would you like to know?

Addy: Well, most of all I wonder how your relationship got started. How did Kat figure out that she wanted or needed the type of guidance you give her, and how did she find you? Natalie, how did you know that Kat would flourish from it?

(By the end of Addy’s sentence, Kat’s blush has deepened to a dark red. She scrunches her shoulders forward and gives a small shrug, fingering her ballet-slipper pendant necklace. Natalie pats her knee.)

Natalie: It’s okay, Kat. Addy, that’s a very good question. I’m not sure there’s an exact answer. You see, we never talked in the beginning about how our relationship would work. She was assigned as my roommate in college, and from the moment she walked into our dorm room I knew that we would have something special.

(Kat sneaks a sideways glance at Natalie.)

Kat: I thought that was just me.

Natalie: No, not at all! You came in, scared half to death, looking as if I were going to hit you.

Kat, with a tiny giggle: You did.

Natalie, surprised into a laugh: You liked it.

Kat: I did not!

(Natalie moves her hand back to hold Kat’s.)

Natalie: With a wooden spoon, and you sure didn’t say that you didn’t like it.

Kat, giggling some more: All because of your silly cleaning rules.

Natalie: Kat!

Kat, showing her dimples: You promised no consequences for what I say here today, as long as I say something.

Natalie, grumbling: Why does everyone think you’re this sweet, perfect angel and I’m the mean one?

(Before Kat can respond, Addy breaks in diplomatically.)

Addy: But how did you get started? Didn’t you ever talk about what your relationship would be like?

Kat, murmuring: We did that roommate agreement.

Natalie: That you didn’t follow!

Kat: I followed it until you added silly things.

Natalie: Like what?

Kat: Putting in a clause that I would get..sp…you know…whenever you saw fit.

Natalie: I never did that!

Kat: And I barely got into the room before you started whacking me with that wooden spoon of yours. Everyone knows you can’t cook, so what were you doing with a wooden spoon, anyway?

Natalie, sputtering: Kat!

Kat, giving Natalie her sweetest smile: You promised no consequences today, don’t forget.

Natalie, getting to her feet: Excuse us please, Addy. I’m afraid Kat and I need to have a little chat…

Addy: Aw, wait! Don’t go! You never told me how it got started.

Kat: No, Natalie, please! I want to stay and talk to Addy!

Natalie: I’m sorry, Addy, but you’ll have to talk to Ana for that information. Come on, Kat. Don’t make it worse for yourself.

(Addy watches, disappointed, as Natalie leads a protesting Kat from the room. At the door, Kat turns to wink at Addy.)

Kat: Tell all your nice readers that Natalie broke her promise. Please?

(Natalie answers with a loud swat to Kat’s bottom, and Kat shrieks as she and Natalie exit.)

Addy, sighing as she surveys her empty couch: I guess I’ll have to read the book.

The Way Home (Kat and Natalie, Volume One)

Blurb:

Natalie always wanted a little sister.  Kat didn’t know she was allowed to want anything…or anyone.

Kat, a shy farmgirl, arrives at her freshman dorm with a backpack, a suitcase, and her mother’s wish for Kat to attend college “at least until you get married”. Her roommate Natalie, a confident and fun-loving social butterfly, decides sight unseen that Kat will become her best friend for life. Natalie teaches Kat about college life, academics, and friendship by taking Kat under her wing…and over her knee.

Then their lives fall apart one fateful night on campus, and for the rest of the decade Kat and Natalie struggle to find their way back to each other. Their way home.

Excerpt:

            I groan at the sunlight bombarding my face, and I cover my eyes with the back of my right arm. I forgot to close the industrial-ish white blinds last night, and Mr. Sunshine has woken me bright and early. I throw back my covers, pad into the bathroom, and splash some water on my face. Might as well get up for real, I think. I was annoyed at being reduced to three-quarter time when the budget cuts rolled around four months ago, especially since I was one of the most senior salesclerks. Or sales associates. The management thinks a fancy title will camouflage our tiny paychecks. But even though the smaller pay forced me to downsize when finally getting an apartment of my own again, on days like this I appreciate the leisurely start to the day. Or what would be a leisurely start if I could remember to shut out the sun.
            I trudge to the kitchen, open the fridge, and blearily search for the peanut butter before remembering that Natalie is no longer around to hide my favorite morning toast spread. Try as I might, I never could break her of the habit of refrigerating perfectly good peanut butter.
            “It won’t spread when it’s cold!” I insisted. “It melts onto your hot toast, anyway. Besides, do you want food poisoning?”
            Natalie has this phobia about food poisoning. She is absolutely certain that every food must be refrigerated or else it will grow lethal germs. I tried to explain that my Jif contained approximately as many preservatives as a Botox injection, and that a germ would have to be bio- genetically engineered in order to survive in all of the chemicals found in the modern wonder known as Jif Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter. Every morning, I would complain to Natalie about my cold peanut butter and she would tell me to get over it. Does she even eat peanut butter? No. She just feels very, very strongly about food safety.
As I open a cupboard to take out my soft, easy-to-spread, room-temperature Jif, I unscrew the cap and dip my index finger in for a taste. I absent-mindedly lick the peanut butter from my finger as I pop an English muffin into the toaster, take out a plate, and find a knife to spread the peanut butter.
            Waiting for the toast to pop up, I nearly drop my knife as my phone rings. I did not expect someone this early. I cross the room, knife still in hand, and pick up the receiver.
            “Hello?”

            “Kat. I need the house key I gave you.” Natalie’s voice is strained. Terse. One part of my brain notices that the toaster has finished toasting and has begun scorching. I
broke my good toaster the first week after I moved in, and budget constraints forced me to find a replacement at Goodwill. This one does the job, but the pop up button almost never works. I have to manually eject the bread to finish the cycle.
            “What’s wrong? Where are you?” Silence. “Natalie?” “At the hospital. Room 568.”
            “At the hospital? But... but... why are you at—” Click.

Bio:

Anastasia Vitsky is a naughty girl with a wicked sense of humor. She writes F/F spanking stories because she loves a story with a good female disciplinarian. She strives to write stories that speak to our everyday lives now versus the fantasies no one can hope to achieve. When she's not writing about Kat and Natalie and their penchant for wooden spoons, she conducts research on narrative. She blogs at http://governingana.wordpress.com/ and can be found on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and Amazon. She is the author of The Vengeance of Mrs. Claus, Desire in Any Language, Editorial Board, and The Way Home (Kat and Natalie, Volume One).

Buy it on Amazon

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Buy it on All Romance Ebooks

Social Media Links:

Ana’s Website

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Available right now. What are you waiting for? One click and you have it. *wink*
I thank Ms. Ana Vitsky for allowing me to chat freely with Natalie and Kat and for bravely sitting on my couch first. It was such a pleasure having all of you here. Stop by again anytime.

If you would like to come and sit on Addy's couch email brattyadaline at gmail dot com and tell me what you would like to talk about. Authors, aspiring authors, bloggers, aspiring bloggers (?) welcome!

<3 Addy "Bratty" Raine