Kitty Wishes

by Dahlia Dewinters

  Her dark purple slip-on mesh sneakers did the trick nicely. She paired that with a long peasant skirt and a just tight enough red t-shirt.

  “You’re not going to disappear off the face of the earth. Either that pot smoking fool is wrong, or Des is going to fall head over heels with you. Or both.” Sakaria heard Julie change the channel on the television.

  “And how am I going to work the cat angle in? Remember, according to Mr. Pothead, the dude has to recognize me in my cat form.”

  It was all too surreal for Sakaria to deal with on a real basis. Instead she just put it in as part of her routine. Go to work, come home, have dinner, shift in to cat form and run the streets for a couple hours. The only problem was, she was beginning to like the running the streets part a little too much. This morning, she didn’t come in until three a.m, slept for six hours then dragged herself into work.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Julie’s voice was confident. “It will all take care of itself.”

  “I hope so,” Sakaria said, looking at the clock. It was ten to seven and knowing Desmond, he was going to be on time, if he wasn’t here already. She liked someone who was dependable. “I gotta go, Julie, it’s almost seven.”

  “Give him a big kiss for me,” her friend said, laughing.

  “I’ll call you.” She ended the call and tossed the cordless handset it on her rumpled bed. No problem about not making up the bed because there wouldn’t be any of that tonight anyway.

  Leaning close to the mirror, she assessed her reflection. Not much makeup to do, just a brush of mascara and a touch of cinnamon lipstick. This hair, ugh! She tossed the thick braids over her shoulder. Her hair seemed like it grew a half inch every time she shifted, which was both pleasing and annoying. She’d taken to trimming it every week to keep it from reaching her feet, but she couldn’t cut it too short. The one time she did she looked like a patch work kitty with bald patches alternating with long tufts of hair. Though she knew she looked awful, she had gone out anyway and somehow felt the other cats judging her bedraggled appearance.

  A knock on the door interrupted her mirror-gazing. Desmond. She flicked off the light in her bedroom, walked down the short hallway to the living room and opened the door.

  If he were a piece of candy, she’d want to eat him right up. Freshly showered, freshly pressed and faux hawk freshly gelled or moussed or whatever he did to it. She could help but grin at him.

  “Hi,” she said, swinging open the door. “Come in. Have a seat.” She had carefully lint rolled every inch of the living room, seeking out and capturing every strand of cat hair.

  “You look very pretty.” He kissed her cheek and Sakaria could feel a warm thrill travel down to her toes. Thank goodness for unmade beds, she thought and messy bedrooms or she’d be dragging him down the hall at this very moment.

  “Thank you,” she said demurely, even though she wanted to jump up and down and squeal with delight. She practically floated into the dining room to grab her purse off the table.

  “You have a cat?” His voice came from where he was seated on the living room couch.

  Her hand froze on her purse. What did she forget to put away?

  “Ah, no,” she said, strolling back into the living room. He was holding the orange plastic ball with the bell her favorite amusement when she came back in from a night out. She could lie on the floor for at least an hour, batting the thing back and forth. He shook it and the bell tinkled merrily, bidding her to play with it right now. Now. She grit her teeth and planted a smile on her face.

  “Oh, that,” she said lightly, trilling a laugh she didn’t feel. If he shook it again, she was going to bat it right out of his hand and pounce on it. She gripped her small cloth purse in her hands, hanging on to her humanity by sheer will.

  “My friend sometimes brings her cat over and leaves toys around.” She waved an arm, feigning nonchalance.

  “Okay,” he said and rolled it onto her coffee table.

  She tore her eyes off it with all the will she could muster, making a mental note to bat it around a bit when she got back. “Shall we?” She stepped toward the door.

  He stood up and perused her pictures “Your pictures are awesome.”

  She had hung a bunch of crazy pastel abstracts that she had gotten from flea market up on the wall. Julie thought they clashed with the deep hues of the throw rugs, but Sakaria liked them and now Desmond liked them too. She touched her tingling cheek where he had pressed his lips. Behave yourself, she thought.

  She ushered him out, locking the door behind them.

  * * * *

  Street fairs were the perfect date, Desmond thought. It was people watching at its best for him, plenty of places to shop for her. Not that he didn’t do his own flipping through old records and random oddities that people offered for sale. Street fairs were also the best place for unforced conversation. And there was always something interesting to eat at the vendor booths.

  She walked close enough to him that her scent teased him just underneath the smell of popcorn, hotdogs and the other foodie delights being prepared by the vendors.

  He took her arm in his, steering her in the right direction. As always, there was a plan, his not-yet-patented street fair plan that would afford them the best browsing experience. He would start at one end opposite the food vendors and work his way all the way down one side and then down the other, ending at the food vendors. He hated eating and walking.

  However, he wanted to consider Sakaria’s feelings.

  “Would you like something to eat?”

  Sakaria shook her head absently, already browsing at one of the booths offering crocheted hats, scarves and other accessories.

  “I like to look around first before I get all tied down with food.” One of the scarves was a colorful mix of scarlet, gold and green. The yarn was cozy under her fingers and she resisted the urge to rub her face against it. “Your things are so beautiful,” she told the woman behind the table.

  They strolled the blocked off street, looking into colorful booths and dodging sticky handed children, strollers and other couples. The fair had a variety of vendors from handmade arts and crafts to the so-called antiques.

  Despite the sights, Sakaria’s warm presence beside him stole all of his attention. He loved the way she would grab his shoulder, stand on tiptoe and whisper straight into his ear, her cinnamon scented breath firing his blood and making him want to give her more than the chaste kiss he’d given her earlier in the evening. He could almost feel her lips brushing his ear when she spoke, causing him to nod dumbly at anything she said because his scrambled brain couldn’t comprehend a word.

  They browsed the old records booth, which Desmond always got a kick out of. Sakaria paused at a booth that offered artificial birds that bobbed in on the end of a wire. She seemed rooted to the spot, one hand raised in the air, her eyes narrowed in concentration as they followed the movement of one particularly fat cardinal.

  “Sakaria?”

  She blinked twice before looking at him. “Aren’t these the coolest looking birds? So… colorful.”

  “Which one do you like?” He reached for his wallet.

  “Oh, no, Desmond…” But he had already picked out the fat red cardinal she had been admiring.

  He handed her the bag and slid his arm around her waist, appreciating the softness of her body as she leaned against him briefly.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to.”

  He gave her a little squeeze. “You like it, right?”

  “Yes,” she shook the bag a little and peeked inside. “I can’t wait to play with it,” he thought she said, but must be mistaken.

  “You want something to eat?”

  “Sure,” she gave a little smile. “Since you buy food from me all the time, let me treat you.”

  They eyed the food vendors that were lined up in this section of the street, generators running, grease splashing on the asphalt.

  “That guy just wiped his
nose and kept cooking,” Sakaria whispered into his ear. “Disgusting.”

  “Makes the food taste better.” He almost laughed at the look on her face. “It’ll be fine.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “If you say so,” she said. “How about a hot dog? They can’t do much to them.”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  She brought them both back a hot dog and soda. “The relish didn’t look right so I just got mustard.” She turned her knowing brown eyes on to him. “Really, that relish looked like they bought it last year. And the guy stuck his finger in it.” She shivered as she bit in to her hot dog. “On the other hand, you can pretty much drop a hot dog on the floor in a movie theater bathroom and it’s okay.”

  Desmond burst out laughing. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Movie theater bathrooms are very clean, and hot dog preservatives are very strong.”

  “Is that true?”

  “No,” she said and laughed.

  They ate and sipped in companionable silence, people watching. Desmond watched her eat her hot dog in little tiny bites, carefully chewing each one as she looked around. He noticed that her hair wasn’t all the same color, that it was nearly black in some places and faded to an almost reddish brown at her temples. His body registered the length of her thigh pressing against his, his jeans and her thin cotton skirt doing nothing to block their shared warmth. The red t-shirt had a low neck, and he could see the slight sheen of perspiration on her chest. He turned his gaze away, quickly, lest she catch him staring.

  A family walked past with a snooty Airedale terrier who appeared to be prancing on its toes and surveying the crowd as if it were royalty. Suddenly, the dog turned toward Sakaria, jerking against its leash as it began barking frantically. Sakaria froze with the end of her hot dog halfway to her mouth.

  Desmond put an arm protectively in front Sakaria, even though he could see that the dog was too far off to get close. What had set him off?

  “Trigger, no!” The owner pulled at the dog’s leash and gave them an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry.”

  “No harm,” he told the owner, watching them as they trotted away. He put an arm around Sakaria’s shaking shoulders and pulled her close. “You okay?” He asked her.

  Sakaria shrugged and gave a shaky smile. “I don’t like dogs.”

  “I see that.”

  She laughed. “You’ve really got an eye for detail, don’t you?”

  Instead of answering, he gave her a little squeeze, enjoying the warm and solid feel of her body against his. This time, she did the most extraordinary thing: she shoved her face under his ear and rubbed against his neck.

  * * * *

  At her door, he didn’t wait for an invitation. He had been waiting to kiss her since he’d met her weeks ago and nothing short of a nuclear blast was going to stop him.

  “Desmond, I had a great time. Thank you.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, relishing the soft lushness of her mouth as he cupped her neck, spreading his fingers against her nape. He nipped at those full, sweet lips until she yielded to him, parting them to allow his tongue entrance. She tasted like spicy mustard and desire as her tongue darted against his, causing the blood to roar in his ears. His other hand pressed into the small of her back, crushing her breasts against his chest. She whimpered in her throat as she moved against him, inflaming his want for her even more.

  She broke the kiss first and stood there in the summer evening, her breath coming fast. She touched her fingers to her lips, which were slightly swollen from their kiss.

  “No more of that,” she said breathlessly. “Or my neighbors will be calling the police. I have to go.” She reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips.

  “Sakaria…” he didn’t know what to say as she fumbled for her keys. Maybe kissing her hadn’t been the right move.? “Tomorrow, I’ll call you.”

  “Yes.” She kissed his cheek and went inside, leaving him standing on the doorstep.

  * * * *

  Sakaria stood with her back against her own front door, her breath coming in short, quiet gasps. Her heart was galloping and she pressed a hand to her chest try to still the irregular rhythm. The pleasurable sensation of Des’s lips on hers lingered and every part of her being was warmed to the core, a feeling she hadn’t had in ages. His kiss was a knockout punch and she was down for the count.

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wooden door as her hand dropped to her lower belly and rubbed, feeling the tightness and tension in her sex. Her nipples were stiff against the cotton of her bra as she imagined his hands and lips on them, teasing and touching the bare skin. She nearly ripped open the door to call him back, to throw caution to the wind and tell him everything. That, however, was not a wise thing to do.

  Sakaria listened carefully as she heard Des’s footsteps go down the porch and down the walk. Hurry up, she thought, holding her breath. She wanted to make sure that he was totally gone before she…. She heard the engine start and the car pull from the curb. Exhaling with relief, she began stripping off her clothes. Kitty-time.

  Naked and a little calmer as she focused on her tasks, she took out a dish of cold salmon and placed a bowl of water on the floor. These were all just in case she made it back and was too hungry to shift back to her human form to eat. Water and sliced salmon was something both forms could tolerate. She made a face as she remembered what happened when she ate something from the garbage as a cat, then shifted back to human. Her head had been in the toilet bowl for the better part of a morning.

  Preparations done, she shifted, dashing through the cat door and into the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Des pushed away from his laptop and got up to stretch his legs. The week had been especially heinous. There had been a flurry of claims that he’d had to go through by hand because of the new software being installed on the server. Added to that headache, there were staff meetings this week and last on the new software, requiring him to actually be in the office more days than he had been in the last six months. Finally, Friday rolled around and he was able to stay at home as usual, work on his weekly report and tie up any loose ends. The new software, however, was still full of glitches, and had been fighting him all day.

  On top of it all, he hadn’t seen Sakaria for the past couple of days. They had been out a few more times, movies and dinner, the more traditional stuff. He had to admit to himself that even in this short amount of time, he was drawn to her more deeply than he even wanted to admit to himself. Her sweet fragrance, the little gestures she would make, pulling at her hair, the odd way she brushed at her nose when she was talking, even the way she would neatly arrange her silverware at the table, he loved all of it. As much as they seemed to get closer, he hadn’t gotten past her front door after their first date. That was frustrating enough, but to not have seen her for nearly a week, well, that was driving him crazy.

  Oddly enough, she didn’t hesitate to visit him at his own home, but that had led to nothing more than fevered groping and necking in front of some movie that they both had wanted to see. Twice now, they had been more interested in each other than the flickering images on Des’s television. It made him feel like a teenager again, even up to the point where she would manage to slip away, to excuse herself, before things went too far.

  He bore no ill will against her for that. He understood that a respectable amount of time had to pass before some women thought themselves emotionally ready for sex. However, his mental comprehension of her emotional state did nothing for his constant, aching need for her body. He wanted to kiss the space below her navel, inhale the warm scent of her skin. Hear her moan as he brushed his lips against the soft skin of her inner thighs.

  Settle down, he told himself as he yanked open the refrigerator door. He was making himself lightheaded with the lack of food and subsequent brain draining thoughts.

  And now someone was at the door.

  * * * *

  When he�
��d first opened the door, Des looked tired, but he brightened immediately upon seeing her. She’d come by on a whim, not texting or calling beforehand. By seven on a Friday night, she hoped he was done with his week’s work. Besides, she missed him.

  “Hi,” she said, as she pushed the warm takeout containers into his hands. “One’s lasagna and the other is a bacon cheeseburger. You can have one or both. I already had dinner.” She walked into the house and dropped her patchwork bag on the sofa and sat down as he took the containers into the kitchen. His jeans and shirt were rumpled, an unusual look for him but oddly sexy.

  “Am I glad to see you.” He was back from the kitchen, rubbing a palm across the stubble on his chin. He sat down next to her on the sofa, his thigh touching hers. “What do you have there?”

  Sakaria dipped her head and smiled shyly. “I thought you might be still working, so I brought my little dorky latch hooking project to keep me busy.” She seemed embarrassed as she showed him the huge canvas stamped with a multicolored design. “All I need is a rocking chair and I’d be ready for the nursing home.”

  He laughed and got up. “You want to see dorky? I’ve got dorky for you.” He walked out of the room.

  When he came back he was carrying a stack of wooden discs. He took one off the top and showed it to her.

  “This is my favorite.”

  It was a seascape, with a small red and white boat being tossed on the waves.

  “Oh,” she’d said, brushing her fingers across the shiny surface. “It’s beautiful.” She glanced up at him, feeling genuine admiration. “It’s artistry. Really, Des.” She had seen wood carving projects before displayed at the craft store where she got her supplies, but never one as detailed as this. “How long did it take you to do this?”

  “About ten hours for the burning and another ten for the painting.”