The Cat's Pajamas

by Soraya May

  Ryan

  “Hey, you.” Cat stood at the top of the stairs. “Lunch?”

  “Sounds fantastic. Just a moment.” I stripped off my gloves and stood up. “I’m pretty keen to—” Looking up, I suddenly forgot what I was about to say.

  On a girl two inches shorter than Cat, her skirt would have been daring.

  On her, it was a weapon of mass destruction. There goes my concentration for the rest of the afternoon.

  “Something you wanted to say, Dr. Sanders?” She smiled as sweetly as anyone wearing a skirt that short while descending a set of stairs could possibly manage. “You’re usually so talkative.”

  “I, uh, yeah.” I gathered up what remained of my sangfroid from the floor and took a deep breath. “Did I tell you it was my birthday, or something?”

  “I looked at your drivers’ license when you moved in. It’s not your birthday.”

  “Feels like it is right now. If you wear that in front of customers, you’re going to need to increase your breakage insurance.”

  “Maybe just for you, then.” Walking down the last few steps, she put a finger in her mouth—aargh, what was I doing again?—and looked at me. “I’m glad I could get your attention.”

  “Did you come down here just to distract me from my work?” My eyes traveled up and down her figure, lingering on her thighs, where the skirt just barely covered them. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  Cat made an equivocating gesture with her hand. “Not completely. There was the lunch thing as well, and—oop!” I put my hands around her waist and lifted her down the last two stairs, pulling her into me.

  “Well,” I said in her ear, “I am pretty hungry, it’s true. All this excavating gives a man…quite an appetite.” I bent my head to her, and she reached up to slide her arms around my neck.

  “Oh, really? Sounds like I turned up at just the right time.” She waited, lips slightly parted, and I brushed against her. Her tongue peeped out from between her teeth, and I took a moment to savor the sight of her just like that, ready to be kissed. This time, there was no surprise, just an easy, gentle slide into passion, a sense that this was exactly what should be happening. We were inches apart, and I could feel her heart beating against me.

  “Is there something you need, Ms. Milsom?”

  “I think there is.” Cat looked straight at me. “I think you need to kiss me.”

  “Anything you say.” I pressed my mouth onto hers, and she responded hotly, tongue snaking out to dive between my lips. I felt a surge of desire for her, as strong as the first time we made love. Damn, what she does to me.

  We kissed, pressed back against the wall, desperate, as Cat reached for my zipper again. That feeling of insistence, her desire to have all of me as quickly as possible; I’d never had anything like it, and the more I had of it, the more I wanted to drink straight from the bottle, not to wait for anything. “Right here,” she breathed in my ear. “I want you right here on the stairs.” Her fingers found my zipper, lowering it, slipping expertly inside. “Right now.”

  I made a deep noise in my chest. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” I slipped one hand up her skirt, tracing the line of her panties across her bottom, feeling her damp already just from my kiss. Breaking lips, I moved away from her, grasping her by the shoulders. “Turn around.” Spinning her to face away from me, I guided her to the banister, pressing into her hard. “You know…uh…exactly what I want, don’t you?” My hand reached around in front of her and slipped inside her panties, dipping into her.

  “I think…ohh, yes…I’ve got a pretty fair idea.” In one motion, I slid her panties down to her knees, exposing her to me. I was already rock-hard for her, and I worked my fingers on her clit, making her ready to take me. “Oh, God, Ryan, just like that…oh, yeah.”

  I couldn’t wait any longer. “Right now, Cat, just like you said. I have to have you right now.” Sliding into her from behind, she gasped again, but her arousal meant that I entered her smoothly and easily. Pausing, I waited for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the feeling of me filling her up.

  “Oh, Ryan, that’s…wow.” Cat held on tight to the banister. Her back arched, and she pressed back into me, wanting to take me as far inside her as possible.

  I tried to breathe as evenly as I could; I was almost afraid to move an inch in case I exploded inside her right away. The sensation of Cat sliding herself back onto me was almost more than I could stand, and I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of her body against me.

  “Cat, I…” I held still inside her for several delicious seconds until my composure returned. “God damn, woman,” I growled, “just one movement and you can do that to me.”

  “Do I now?” Cat’s tone was resonant with lust. “I’m so very glad to hear it, and—ooh!” She gasped as I pulled back and pushed into her again, making her shudder with pleasure.

  “That’s quite enough from you…uhh…please,” I said in a low voice, “or I’m going to find it very hard to…uhh…concentrate.” I started moving steadily inside her, and a little breath escaped her lips every time I pushed deeper and deeper into her. My hand rested on her shoulder, and I guided her back and forth onto me, pressing tight inside her. “Cat, what you do to me…”

  She put one hand on herself, stroking her clit, and began to move faster, taking over from me, increasing the tempo of our lovemaking to the point where I could feel my own climax building inside me.

  “Cat, wait. I can’t…” My voice was hoarse, ragged, and I held tightly on to her.

  Lost in her own passion, she gasped out a refusal. “No. Not this time. I want you inside me. All of you. Right now.” Pushing back onto me with a final thrust, she dragged me over the edge, and I groaned deeply as I exploded inside her. The feeling of her release filled me with an intense satisfaction, and my last thought was this is what I want. I want you by my side like this, all the time.

  “Hey, handsome.” Cat snuggled closer to me in her bed, “how you doin’?” We’d pulled the curtains open, and the sun streamed in. Across the coast road, a few gulls wheeled in the cloudless sky.

  I stroked her hair. “Like a Labrador with a brand-new stick.”

  “Mmm.” She frowned at me. “That’s…not the sexiest simile I’ve ever heard. I mean, I see where you’re going with it, but am I, like, the stick? Or am I the Labrador? Or…”

  “I think you’re over-thinking this.”

  “I had better be, for your sake. What are you doing this afternoon?”

  Truth be told, I was slightly grateful for the change of subject; that simile really wasn’t my best work. “I’m going to the library. You said that this building has been around for a long time, and it’s pretty much unchanged, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” She nodded. “A hundred years or more, I heard; it was one of the first structures in town. So what?”

  “Well, it’s unusual. It might mean…look, I can’t promise anything, but I need to do some research on it. We should talk when I’ve done that.” Gathering her into my arms, I held her, kissing her on the forehead. “Besides, it’s not the only surprise I’ve had since I came to Cable Bay. Meeting you, was…unexpected. But not unwelcome.”

  She snorted. “I’ll say. I assume you don’t talk bartenders into kissing you in every town you visit.”

  “Well, I do try, but I’m usually not as successful as I was this time. Ow!” Cat had cuffed me lightly across the forehead. “Also,” I said, rubbing my forehead, “the bartenders aren’t usually as attractive, either.”

  “I should hope not. Now, are we getting up and going about our day, or are we staying here in bed for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “Hmm. A difficult question.” I stroked my chin. “The latter is a hell of a lot more appealing than the former, I’ll say that for sure. However, people are bound to come looking for us sooner or later. What do you think?”

  Cat slid her leg between mine, and I breathed in deeply, enjoying the feeling of her skin against me. “Mmm
. I need to go to the farmers’ market. Which means that Farrah will be knocking on the door downstairs in about an hour, and this time I’m not going to get away from a detailed explanation of what’s going on here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How detailed are we talking, exactly? I mean,” I lifted the sheet covering my torso, and pretended to peer beneath it, “are we talking distinguishing marks, kind of detailed?”

  “Ha. I’m sure she would just make them up if I didn’t tell her. She’s got a vivid imagination, that girl.”

  I nodded gloomily. “I bet she does. Couldn’t you just tell her about,” I waved my hands vaguely, “emotions or something?”

  “Emotions or something? What, are we fourteen?” Cat raised her hand to swat me again, and then lowered it. “I will tell her,” she said, tracing slow patterns on my bicep as I hardened against her thigh, “that we are having a torrid affair. How’s that?”

  I made a low noise of appreciation in my chest. “Torrid’s good. Torrid I can get behind. Can we do steamy as well?”

  “Steamy works for me.”

  “How about no-holds-barred?”

  “Well, that was an early-90s wrestling movie, but I’m guessing that’s not what you meant.”

  “No.” I ran my fingers down her spine, making her arch her back with pleasure. “I was meaning something more like this.”

  “So, you really think those fossils might be important?” Cat rolled onto her side, plumping her pillow and pulling the sheet up over one shoulder, deep liquid eyes fixed on me. I paused a moment before I said anything, just wanting to enjoy the sight of her, long limbs naked in bed so close to me, her warmth and the scent of her skin, carelessly sexy in a way I’d never seen before.

  If I tell her, this is going to end right here, right now.

  I reached one hand over, and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. I’m not ready to give this up. Not yet.

  “I…don’t know. I don’t have enough evidence to say for certain. I have to…collect as much as I can, take it back to the institute for some more analysis, and then we’ll know more.” Somewhere a very long way inside me, a thousand tiny needles came to rest on my conscience, points facing inward.

  “I know. I was just curious. Besides, I’ve kind of changed my mind on wanting you to leave as soon as possible. Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you were to stay here just a little longer.” She smiled, and the afternoon sun through the window behind her lit her up. The needles went in deeper.

  I sighed. “Cat, I’m sorry to keep you in the dark about the future of this place.” Liar. “I’ve kind of changed my mind on wanting to leave as soon as possible, too. Maybe I wouldn’t mind staying here just a little longer.”

  She looked away for a minute. “It must be hard sometimes going to all these places, and never staying.”

  “Hard?” I thought for a minute. “Yeah, maybe it is. I’d never thought of it before…now.”

  A moment passed. I realized that what I meant was before meeting you, Cat Milsom, with your hair just so with the sunlight behind it, and your smile so sweet but so determined at the same time, and the way you hold me tight enough to hurt when we make love.

  But I didn’t say that. Instead, I reached out, took her hand in mine, and squeezed it, and that moment was almost enough to make me forget the needles.

  “In a way, it is hard, yes. But if we want things to be remembered, if we want them to never be forgotten, then I think this is what has to happen.”

  “Really?” Cat sat up in the bed, high, proud breasts coming free of the covers, and I couldn’t help but smiling at the sheer joy of her body, firm and taut. She saw me looking at her, and rolled her eyes. “Concentrate, man. How do you mean ‘remembered’?”

  “Well,” I began, “we only have a limited time on the planet, right? So how will we be remembered when we’re gone?”

  “Go on.” She nodded, her face curious.

  “The work I’m doing now will be remembered in the future. All those people in the past who saved artifacts and books so we can understand what happened, and how those events created our present; we owe them a debt. When things are forgotten, it’s as if they never happened.” I sat up next to her. “All those people who lived, and died, and were happy, or sad, who lived long or short lives, had memories and experiences—if we forget, then it’s as if they had never happened.” I swallowed, hard. No. “As if they were wiped away.”

  “Okay.” Her face was serious. Part of me didn’t want to say this; I felt like I was going on and on, lecturing about something that no-one else would understand or care about.

  “So who will do that now, for the future? Someone has to do it, and—maybe—I’m one of those someones.”

  Cat smiled. “I guess then you’ll be the famous archaeologist Dr. Sanders, huh?”

  I knew it. I bloody knew we’d end up here. People always say that. It isn’t their fault. It isn’t their fault.

  Immediately, she could tell from the look on my face she’d said something wrong. “Ryan, what’s…? What did I say?”

  My hand was stiff on hers. “Cat, it’s okay. It isn’t your fault.” I blinked, and shook my head.

  “Ryan, please.” She moved closer to me, putting one hand on my face. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’m not just asking these questions idly, okay? I wouldn’t,” she looked around the bedroom, “be here if this wasn’t important to me. If…if you weren’t important to me.”

  I looked down. “I know. I do appreciate that, very much.” I took a deep breath, and started talking before I changed my mind. “Cat, my father was…is an archaeologist too. In fact,” I smiled, “he is the famous Dr. Sanders. But that was a while ago, and now, well, now he’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.”

  The words hung in the air for a moment. I looked at Cat’s face, and took her hand again. “It’s okay, honestly. You’re a doctor, so you understand everything that I could say here. Which,” I smiled wryly, “is good, because it means I don’t have to say it.”

  “Oh, Ryan.” Her arms went around me, and for once it actually made a difference; people’s compassion was generally more valuable for them than it was for me or my family. But this time was different, and I didn’t stop to wonder why.

  “So, there are good days, and bad days. On good days, he’s my father, same as he always was. He’s the man I grew up admiring, the man I wanted to be like.”

  Cat touched my face again. “And the bad days?”

  “We try not to dwell on the bad days.” My father’s face again, authoritative, self-assured. Watching him lecture when I was a kid.

  “I understand.” Cat looked up at me.

  My throat was dry. It all sounds so melodramatic when you talk about it. “But you know what comes next, don’t you?”

  This is why you don’t talk about it.

  “He’s slipping away, Cat. As time passes, the good days get fewer, and the bad days get more frequent. One day, and that day is going to come sooner than later, it will all be forgotten. He’ll still be here, but who he is will be gone.”

  I looked at my hands, in fists on the blanket in front of me. “So, now you know. This is why we can’t forget. This is why we have to do everything we can to remember. Because one day our memories will all be gone. And when they are, nothing will ever bring them back.”

  She held on tight to me, and we waited there in the quiet warmth of the afternoon sun. There was work to be done, but even so, to steal a moment from greedy Time would be forgiven.

  25

  Cat

  Cheryl Collis’ prize-winning vegetables were the stuff of nightmares. Long and spindly, short and bulbous, they loomed in the rear of her stall like menacing thugs at a loan-shark’s office. I queued patiently among the crowd of people in front of Cheryl’s stall, and wondered briefly why anyone would grow competition vegetables as a hobby.

  Does she do some kind of genetic engineering to make them like that? Do they come to life at night
and prowl the neighborhood?

  “Morning, love. How are you going there?” Cheryl herself was red-cheeked and cheerful, wearing a crisply pressed apron over faded dungarees. She didn’t look like an evil genius scientist, I thought to myself.

  “Good, Cheryl. Can I get…some of the mushrooms, and maybe three pounds of potatoes, please?” The lurking horror of the vegetables didn’t seem to put anyone off, and Cheryl’s stall was constantly busy for the duration of the morning. I watched as Cheryl weighed out my order, and sniffed the air. It was cold and crisp, but someone, not far off, was cooking sausages on a grill, and the smell made my mouth water.

  “Here you are, love. Anything else?” Handing over my order in paper bags, Cheryl beamed at me. “It’s so good to see you back here and looking happy. My husband was telling me about this business with the bar, and I did think about how much it must be bothering you, not knowing what’s going to happen. You poor thing.”

  I smiled weakly as I stuffed the paper bags into my canvas bag. “Thanks, Cheryl. It’ll be okay. I just have to take things one day at a time. I’ll see you next week, okay?” I put up a hand in a farewell gesture, and left before she could say anything else. As I turned away, Farrah was beside me, clutching two cups of coffee. “There you are. Take that!” She handed me one of the cups.

  “Thank you, ma’am; you do have a flair for the dramatic, I’ll give you that.” I took the cup gratefully; drinking coffee in the afternoon was usually a bad idea, but I rationalized it by saying I’d spent half the morning in bed anyway.

  “Well, dramatic is as dramatic does, to paraphrase Forrest Gump. I’m not the one having a—what was it?—torrid affair with a man I keep in my basement.” Before arriving at the market, I’d steeled myself and gotten the bean-spilling part of the conversation about my—was it a relationship?—with Ryan out of the way. Farrah listened attentively, and to her credit only cackled and rubbed her hands together a couple of times. It actually hadn’t been as bad as I’d feared.