by Nell Stark
Quinn briefly covered Corrie’s hand with her own. “I’m glad. I love you and I don’t want you going to jail.”
“Ha ha ha.” Corrie looked out the window toward the cheerfully lit streets of Newport. “Y’know, I pity her, I guess. Does that make any sense?”
“Of course it does.” Quinn glanced at Corrie. “And I pity her, too. Though to be honest, I had the strangest urge all night to do a victory dance to the tune of, ‘I won, you lost, neener neener neener.’”
Corrie laughed, long and hard. “I take it back,” she said finally, once she’d managed to catch her breath. “You don’t act like the older one.”
A comfortable silence stretched between them as Quinn eased the car onto the freeway that crossed over the Narragansett Bay. Corrie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the salt-tinged summer air against her face and the light pressure of Quinn’s palm over her knuckles.
“I think I sort of forgive her,” she said finally as the second bridge ended and they returned to the mainland. “And I think the only reason I’m capable of that is you.” She turned her head to take in Quinn’s profile.
“How do you mean?” Quinn asked softly. She squeezed Corrie’s hand with her own.
“You forgave me. I feel like I should pay it forward.”
Quinn nodded, her gentle smile illuminated by the red lights of the dashboard. “I’m glad. But as far as I’m concerned, making peace with her is the harder job by a long shot.”
“Making peace.” Corrie smirked. “Is that a new euphemism?”
Quinn pretended to look alarmed. “In that case, please don’t ‘make peace’ with anybody but me!”
Corrie reached out to touch her cheek. “You don’t ever need to worry.” She paused. “You do know that, right?”
“I know.” Quinn looked away from the road just long enough to kiss the tips of Corrie’s fingers.
“I need to stop and check on a few kittens at the humane society,” she said a few minutes later as they passed the Wakefield town sign. “Shall I drop you off first, or do you want to come with?”
“I’ll tag along. I’d like to see it, actually. I’ve still never been inside.”
They pulled up to a low brick building and Quinn unlocked the entrance. She led Corrie down several hallways before finally pausing in front of a set of double doors.
“This,” she said as she pushed them open, “is the recovery room for kittens that have just been spayed or neutered.” She pulled Corrie inside. Corrie looked around, noting the rows of small cages, many of which were temporarily housing a slumbering feline.
“It’s kind of bleak,” said Quinn, gravitating over to the cages in the far corner, “but they get moved out to the roomier enclosures within a few days.” Corrie followed and grinned when Quinn turned around with a tiny black ball of fur in her arms. The kitten yawned, giving her a view of its pink tongue and gums.
“This is Rogue,” Quinn said, nuzzling the kitten’s head with her cheek. “I named her for the character in the X-Men. See the white stripe she’s got, here?” Corrie moved closer and slid her arm around Quinn to peer down at the top of the kitten’s head. Sure enough, a streak of white fur trailed from her left ear down to just past her neck.
“Hey, Rogue,” Corrie crooned, reaching out to trace the marking. She looked down at Quinn. “Is she your favorite?”
Quinn’s expression grew wistful. “Oh, yes. I’ve never wanted to take home a kitten so badly.” She shifted Rogue until the cat was cradled against her neck. Immediately, Rogue began to purr and stretched both paws out until she was hugging Quinn.
“See? She’s such a sweetheart.” Her face fell even as Rogue continued to purr and began to munch on her hair. “But she’ll be put up for adoption tomorrow, and I know someone will snatch her up right away.”
Corrie’s sudden idea made her mouth go dry, but she felt the rightness of it, even through her anxiety. She cleared her throat. “Uh,” she said. When Quinn looked at her expectantly, she pulled away. “Well...why don’t you move in? With me. Into the house. There’s more than enough room, and that way you’ll be able to adopt Rogue, you know, and I’m sure Frog will love the company.”
Quinn’s clear shock drove whatever else Corrie had been about to say out of her mind. She stuck her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders. “What do you think? At least until you find your own place that’ll let you have a cat.” She frowned. “Not that I want you to find your own place, because I don’t, but if you did want to then that’d be cool and—”
Quinn took one step forward and kissed her, wrapping her free arm around Corrie’s waist. The kiss didn’t end until Rogue, now sandwiched between their bodies, mewed indignantly and squirmed. Corrie laughed breathlessly.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” Quinn asked, her voice soft.
Corrie smiled and reached out to stroke Rogue’s silky head as she kissed Quinn again. This time, the kitten didn’t protest. “Frog doesn’t like it when you leave,” she said when she finally pulled back. “And besides, I love you.”
About the Author
Nell Stark grew up predominately on the East Coast of the USA. She attended Dartmouth College in New Hampshire, where she met her partner, Lisa. She is now pursuing her doctorate in medieval English literature in Madison, Wisconsin. When she’s not researching, teaching, or writing, she’s either playing World of Warcraft©. or spending time outdoors. Nell is also a contributor to several erotica anthologies, including Erotic Interludes 3 and 4, Wild Nights, After Midnight, and the forthcoming Romantic Interludes.
She can be reached at [email protected] or by visiting www.nellstark.com.
