Cat Scratch Fever

by Sophie Mouette

  The Beethoven’s chalet theme continued inside. White walls set off the dark beams that met in the peaked centre of the ceiling. The lights were low; the tables illuminated by flickering candles that made prisms dance off the cut-crystal wineglasses. Beethoven’s music played low and unobtrusively from hidden speakers.

  The smell of roasting meats, onions and spices made Felicia’s stomach rumble. Thankfully, the sound muted before she reached Gabe where he stood with the white-jacketed maïtre d’. The maïtre d’ led them to a small, intimate table in a quiet corner. ‘Will this do?’ he murmured to Gabe.

  ‘Perfect,’ Gabe said, and the man slipped away.

  Felicia pursed her lips. So Gabe had requested they be seated away from the other diners, had he? What nefarious plans did he have?

  The crisp white linen tablecloth was long, hiding their legs. Oh, the games they could play! She could easily slip off her shoe and slide her foot between his thighs, coaxing him to hardness with her toes. He could entice her to remove her panties and pass them to him – or would he dare her to hand them to him over the table, rather than hidden underneath?

  She let out a long breath and thanked him as he held her chair out for her. If she had to flirt with him to help the Sanctuary, she would. But she’d have to be damn careful to stay professional and not screw things up.

  But, oh, why did he have to be so luscious? She watched him over the top of her embossed leather menu. He had a late-day stubble, the dark-blond hairs just visible against his skin, and she wanted to feel the roughness against her flesh. On her cheeks. Between her thighs. She shifted in her seat as her lower lips swelled and her panties dampened.

  Desperate to get her mind off sex, she asked him what meal he was considering. He was leaning towards the house speciality of pork crown roast rack, although, he admitted, the wild game looked tempting. The Beethoven was known for its elk, boar and other unusual game cuts.

  That made her think of Valerie Turner’s suggestion for the fundraiser dinner. After the waiter came with their drinks – she was allowing herself just one glass of red wine because she was driving – she regaled Gabe with the tale. She delighted in making him laugh again, enjoying the sound.

  It wasn’t until after their meals arrived (Gabe did go with the pork roast, and she’d chosen the wild mushroom linguine) that she remembered their conversation in the car had been interrupted.

  ‘You told me how you got interested in charity work, but not how you came to work at the Zoological Association,’ she prompted.

  ‘I don’t remember any one thing being the impetus,’ he said. ‘But what I’ve learnt is that there are two types of people in this field that we have to police. The obvious ones are those for whom the bottom line is more important than the animals themselves – circuses that mistreat the performing animals, for instance.

  ‘And then there are the groups that just can’t get it together. There are so many ways to cut corners at a zoo that end up doing permanent harm to the animals. I’m talking about people who have their hearts in the right place, but they just can’t provide the right home. When money gets tight, they do their best, but there’s a point when the negative starts outweighing the positive. No matter if you’ve got the animals’ best interests in mind, if you can’t give them adequate shelter and food and space, you have no right keeping them.’

  Felicia almost took the ‘you’ personally but, realising he was speaking in generalities, she bit back a sharp retort.

  ‘I agree,’ she said carefully. ‘Sometimes it’s just too late, but it’s hard to see that it’s best to give up. I’ve…known people who keep searching for a solution, coming up with crazier, more desperate plans. Hell, one of our board members suggested we sell the land – we’re on prime real estate for another damn strip mall – and use the money to relocate elsewhere. But Katherine won’t hear of it.’

  ‘I know about the crazy plans,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen places right on the cusp of falling apart, but there’s nothing I can put in my report. No solid evidence that will let me recommend they be shut down. But I know in my gut that, sometime soon after I leave, things will go bad. It’s times like that I’m half-tempted to create a problem so I have something concrete to pin on them.’

  He put his hand over hers, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, startled by the feel of his warm flesh and aroused by the simple fact that he was touching her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  For startling her? For touching her? She didn’t want him to be sorry about that. She wanted him to be sorry about waiting so long to touch her. About not touching her…elsewhere.

  ‘I asked you to dinner to give you a chance to relax, to get away from work,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to bring all that up.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to talk about it with someone who understands. But, yes, let’s talk about something else. New York…do you ever go to shows?’

  They lingered for a while over coffee, sharing a piece of caramelised pecan apple pie, then headed out.

  ‘Top down?’ she asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  The mountain night air was cool, but the breeze would warm up as they descended back to the desert. Up here, away from the light and smog pollution, the stars looked so big and hung so low, you felt as if you could reach up and pluck one like fruit.

  Felicia loved driving the twisty mountain roads, letting her car hug the curves. They didn’t talk much on the way back, just enjoying the silence and the contentment of a good meal.

  At the hotel, he grabbed his briefcase from the back seat. ‘Thanks for showing me another part of southern California.’

  ‘My pleasure. See you tomorrow.’

  She watched him walk past the burbling mosaic fountain and up the two shallow steps to the front door. Her pleasure, indeed. She suspected it would be another night with Mr Twitchy for comfort.

  It was curious, really. Her adventure with José and Mel had temporarily sated her, but it hadn’t been quite enough. Oh, she’d had lovely orgasms, to be sure. But somehow, there was just the tiniest upper echelon of satisfaction that she hadn’t quite achieved. Like an itch in the very middle of her back, or a piece of chocolate melting on her tongue that wasn’t quite dark enough.

  The romp had been a nice diversion, but in the long run it hadn’t satisfied her. Strange, yes, but she’d put it down to the continued stress.

  Now, she started to worry that it was something else.

  Her grandmother had warned her against pining for things she couldn’t have, in the way that grandmothers make everything sound like an Irish legend or a Jewish curse (depending on your grandmother). The kind that rank right up there with the warnings about putting your own eye out. It seemed silly, but there was a grain of truth, deep down, that your gut couldn’t deny.

  Oh, Grandmum. This is exactly what you were warning me about, wasn’t it?

  With a sigh, she put the car in gear and pulled away from the parking lot. A strange buzzing noise caught her attention before she even got to the street.

  What the hell? She backed the car up to the entrance-way again, where there was light, and twisted around in her seat to peer in the back. She stretched and her questing fingers found the noisy object. It was one of those phone/email combo jobbers. It must have fallen out of Gabe’s briefcase.

  The text message had a New York prefix. Someone was contacting Gabe awfully late. Girlfriend? Wife? She’d never even wondered if he was already taken.

  She didn’t mean to look at the screen. She didn’t intend to snoop. But the initials SCCS caught her eye, and how could she look away then?

  Re: SCCS. Where RU on problem?

  What the hell did that mean? Felicia stared at the device cradled in her palm. Well, she couldn’t exactly ask him. She’d been snooping. But it was just…weird. She pondered it as she rode up the elevator and found his room and knocked.

  When he opened the door, all questions vanished. He wore nothing bu
t a towel wrapped around his waist. She drank in the sight of his finely muscled chest, dusted with that gold-tipped hair. The hair narrowed along his taut abs to a point between the sharp creases at his hips where his towel hung threateningly low…

  Oh, she was in trouble now.

  5

  Valerie hung up the phone.

  Silly of her to have called Felicia about the benefit now, when she still had to make sure everything at the house was ready for this evening. But the ‘silent dinner’ had seemed like such a fabulous idea – until she started talking to Felicia about it and saw the glaring hole in the plan. Katherine and Felicia couldn’t very well ask anyone for money if they couldn’t talk!

  Felicia was so good about taking the time to listen and help her work through her ideas. Sure, part of her job was catering to board members and donors, but Felicia was particularly good at it, never showing impatience even when Valerie realised afterwards she’d caught her at a bad time. Not everyone had that kind of grace.

  She just wished she could help Felicia come up with the perfect idea, one that would take this benefit from a nice party to something really inspired. (There were so many charity dinners, and so many of them were so very dull!) Fine, there were health-code issues with the ‘prey species’ dinner, but that would have been unique – and so educational! But what was wrong with setting the whole thing up like an illegal rave, out in the desert, and giving everyone glow sticks and neon body paint when they arrived? Or having clowns, cotton candy and balloon animals? Clowns were great. Clowns guaranteed it wouldn’t be just another stiff stuffy fundraiser. She loved clowns. She couldn’t be the only person who did.

  Oh well. Maybe for some other benefit. Or she’d have an adult ‘kids’ party’ herself. That might be even more fun. Some of her friends would be shocked at a party that served absolutely nothing healthy or Atkins friendly. They’d think she was crazy. But she bet they’d never say it.

  Money couldn’t buy happiness, perhaps, but it could buy you freedom if you wanted it, and room to play.

  ‘The poor are crazy,’ she misquoted to no one in particular. ‘The rich get to be eccentric.’

  A conversational meow let her know she wasn’t actually alone in the office, which was decorated in dark wood and leather to simulate some idealised Edwardian library, right down to the decanters of port. (The fact the windows looked out over her xeriscaped garden of cactus, eucalyptus and other desert-adapted plants might have spoilt the effect for some, but she liked the incongruity.)

  ‘Oh, hello, Cocoa,’ Valerie said conversationally to one of her three Burmese cats, who flowed over and wrapped herself around Valerie’s ankle.

  She bent down and scritched the thick soft brown fur. ‘We’re having company tonight, sweetie. Want to help me get ready?’

  The cat didn’t seem particularly interested in the prospect of company, but she followed when Valerie left the office, clearly hoping for more attention.

  Time to go and make sure everything was ready for her guest. Danny the houseboy had done his usual impeccable job on most of the house. But, for her special guests, there were certain areas she had to check on for herself.

  Like the dungeon. Danny did a good job there too, but he had no way of knowing what toys and props might be needed tonight. Besides, some of her friends were quite open about their proclivities, but in this case there were reasons for discretion.

  The cat at her heels, Valerie headed towards the gleaming kitchen. While Cocoa was distracted by her food dish, Valerie checked the fridge. Conchita had left a cold gourmet supper and the appropriate wine was already chilling thanks to Danny, so they wouldn’t need to worry about that. Good. All was in order here. Time to check on the dungeon.

  The dungeon, naturally, was on the lower level of the house. While she liked the resonances of the word dungeon, she’d eschewed the old-world faux-stone and black leather look in favour of something more Old West bordello – lots of burgundy velvet, with a big bed buried in pillows and a very comfortable, somewhat Victorian chair that she liked to sit in while someone knelt nervously at her feet. The whipping post and spanking benches were padded in burgundy leather – no point in distracting your subject from the fun and games with unintentional discomfort.

  She took down a braided flogger from the wall rack, then hung it up again. No. She’d leave it handy, but she had something else in mind for tonight, a more intimate mood, but just as intense.

  The doorbell rang, a distant echo down here, really only discernible because Valerie had been waiting for it.

  Before she entered the living room, she put on the stern but loving face that her guest needed to see in order to relax into surrender. Then she strode into the room.

  A figure was kneeling in the centre of the Turcoman rug, kneeling up with her spine very erect, but with her head bowed forwards so all that Valerie could see at first was a sweep of red curls and a crescent of fair skin.

  ‘Katherine,’ she said. Just a name, but she could feel its weight on her tongue, the intention giving it the force of some ritual greeting.

  ‘My lady.’ Katherine, so confident at SCCS, perfectly capable of telling her an idea was too outlandish or if her teasing of Felicia had gone too far, in this setting became almost inaudible.

  The shy whisper sent a thrill through Valerie. She’d had some delightful boys who’d been her play-partners. But, oh, nothing had ever compared to the pleasure of seeing Katherine kneeling before her.

  And it was strange because Valerie wasn’t normally that interested in women (men had always seemed more entertaining to hurt and then comfort afterwards) or in people who turned their submission on and off like a faucet. Katherine was unquestionably female, and in most contexts you’d think she didn’t have a yielding bone in her body. But that made it all the more exciting when she did give up control.

  Valerie crossed the room to her in a few brisk strides. She circled the kneeling woman slowly, once and then again. She never took her eyes off Katherine and maintained eye contact as much as was physically possible.

  At first, Katherine seemed far away, lost in thought rather than lost in lust, the corners of her mouth tight. As Valerie started a third pass, though, she saw that Katherine was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide, the pupils hiding so much of the grey iris that she looked like some frightened nocturnal creature.

  Prey.

  It was one thing to see that look on the face of someone you’d always known as a sub, someone you’d met through the scene. That was sweet in its own right, especially when you could get him to go just a little deeper than he ever had before. But seeing it on the face of someone who knew as much about big-cat genetics as anyone on the planet, someone who’d built a remarkable organisation starting from nothing but a vision, someone usually described by words such as tough, driven and fearless…

  It was hard to say if the thrill started in her mind and worked its way to her groin or vice versa, but it seemed to hit every key point in between. Her nipples, suddenly sensitive, which didn’t usually happen until a scene was well under way. Her skin, tingling with excitement. Her hands, aching to touch, stroke, slap.

  And maybe her heart, too, because she found herself noting the circles under Katherine’s eyes and feeling a surge of anger. Annoyance about the Sanctuary’s financial problems was normal; it continually floored her that people couldn’t see the value of the work SCCS was doing. But this was different. This wasn’t about SCCS. It was about Katherine, and the tightwads in the community and the foundations who weren’t coming through to help her, and the rule-bound idiots at the Zoological Association who were plaguing her and the damnable reporters who were making her life more difficult.

  If Katherine were losing sleep, it should be because she was desperate with lust, not desperate for funding. Maybe it was time to do something more to help out. She had a few ideas. But, meanwhile, she could take both their minds off mundane matters for a while.

  She was behind Katherine now, out
of her easy line of sight. Quick as a hunting cat, Valerie reached out, buried her fingers in the disordered mop of red curls at the nape of Katherine’s neck and pulled her head back.

  Katherine leant with the motion, creating a lovely backwards arch to her body. Holding her in position, Valerie bent and gave her a hard, claiming kiss, biting at her lower lip. It was awkward, not a position either could sustain for long, but it made the point.

  If Katherine’s expression was to be believed when Valerie relaxed her grip slightly, it made the point very well indeed.

  ‘Get up,’ she ordered, giving a tug on Katherine’s hair to emphasise the point. She did, although with a certain hesitation that probably came from trying to figure out how best to stand without looking too awkward. Something to work on in future. Valerie did like her toys to move elegantly and Katherine was athletic enough that it should be relatively easy to teach her. But meanwhile…

  Smack!

  Her hand felt better for having connected with Katherine’s bottom. ‘When I tell you to do something, do it immediately,’ she barked, sounding far more harsh than she felt. She wasn’t annoyed. She wouldn’t have touched Katherine if she had been. She played at punishment with Katherine, but the redhead, though a masochist, was definitely not slavish, and she hadn’t given Valerie the right to punish her for real.

  And this wouldn’t have merited real punishment even if punishment had been part of the rules; her awkwardness was far too cute. If anything, Valerie was delighted to have the excuse to give them both a taste of the pleasures to come later in the evening.

  Katherine caught on to that immediately. She nodded and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ but her eyes were sparkling. She still had a bit of that prey-animal look, but the kind of fear she showed was the kind only humans seemed to feel, the enjoyable kind induced by horror movies or amusement-park rides. Katherine carried her own Stephen King and Disneyland with her. And Valerie had the key.