The Cat’s Meow

Midnight Rose  1990

First released on CABB’s CyberCon 2001


       It was a perfect summer afternoon.  The French doors of Catherine’s apartment were thrown open to the warm, comfortable air.  A light breeze played with the sheer curtains shrouding the doorways like a naughty child playing with a lady’s skirt.

      Vincent and Catherine had spent this Saturday morning doing household chores and now it was afternoon and time for the husband and wife to kick back and be lazy.  After an exhausting week at the D.A.’s office, Catherine was ready to indulge in reading a good early-American novel for the remainder of the day.  Being use to the coolness of the Tunnels, Vincent found that relaxing in the mild weather made him sleepy.

      So they sat, lounging together on one of the short loveseats, simply enjoying their time together.  Catherine was curled up at one end and Vincent lay across the rest of the tiny sofa, which could barely hold him, with his legs and feet draped over his wife’s lap.  He drifted away into a short, light catnap, while Catherine read her book. Light clothing and bare feet were the order of the day; Catherine in a pink tank top and jean shorts, and Vincent wearing a dark blue, linen shirt with lace-up collar.

      Vincent woke refreshed and ready for play.  What he wanted was some of his wife’s wonderful, loving attention.  But as he gazed upon his beautiful bride fully absorbed in her book, he knew getting some would not be easy; however, it could be fun to try. 

He kept the mood of their Bond pleasant and comfortable so that Catherine would not be aware of the mischief he plotted in the pursuit of his goal.  Vincent tried innocence first; he casually stretched and sat up.  The removal of his legs from Catherine’s lap did not disturb her.  She did not even look up from her book, but shifted to a more comfortable sitting position---one foot tucked beneath her and the other propped on the coffee table---and kept on reading. Two azure eyes, glittering with solemn mischief, gazed upon their fair prey.  Vincent leaned over on an elbow and rested his velvet cheek against his wife’s smooth, warm shoulder.  His reward was a single kiss to his hair-swept brow and a gentle caress of trailing fingers from his temple to the jut of his strong jaw, but, alas, this was all.

Next, Vincent gently nuzzled the silky curve of Catherine’s neck, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her fawn-blonde tresses, then tasted the round of her bare shoulder with the tip of his raspy tongue, before placing a kiss there.  At first, Catherine did not respond to the sandpaper caresses, then she shrugged him away.  She did not take her eyes off her book even as she turned the page. 

      The lionine man sat back and regarded his wife through sapphire slits, while he decided what to try next.  Catherine was oblivious of the shy smile sneaking its way across her husband’s unique features.  Vincent was enjoying this game.

      The tawny man shifted in his seat to lay down and pushed beneath Catherine’s arm so that he could lay his head in her lap.  He lay on his back and pressed his cheek against her abdomen.  This time he was rewarded!  His Beauty smiled down at him before she returned her attention to her book; but as she read she lazily ran her slender fingers through his unruly golden locks.  Vincent let out a satisfied humming sigh, almost a purr.  Alas, this contentment was short-lived too.  Catherine soon stopped her ministrations to turn another page but did not resume her petting; instead, she lay her arm protectively across his massive chest. 

      Vincent was undaunted by this minor setback, because he had spied the sparkling crystal that hung from his beloved’s neck.  He reached up and toyed with it, rolling it around between his thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly.  He lost hold of the slender gem in his big clawed hand only to pick it up again.  After a few minutes of this, Catherine brushed her hand down her chest to dislodge Vincent’s furred one from his plaything. 

      “Be good,” His bride admonished, reinforcing her words by lightly thumping her hand on his barrel chest after she returned her arm to where she had laid it across him. Her delicate fingers slipped through the loose cross-ties of his shirt and ruffled the amber curls she encountered. Vincent obediently remained still, but only for a few minutes.  This time he found a fold in Catherine’s tank top near his mouth.  A new toy!  He nuzzled it, nipped at it with his lips, and pulled at it.  After lying still for a minute, he began again.  Vincent nuzzled deeper making the happy throaty sounds, nipping and pulling.  Nuzzling. Pulling. Nipping…until…

“Ouch!” Catherine hit him on the forehead with her book. 

      Vincent cowered, crinkling his nose and shutting his eyes tight against the surprise assault.   Slowly, he opened one blue eye to see an astonished Catherine grinning down at his open-mouthed, curled-lipped, sharp-toothed expression of bewilderment.

      “You nipped me,” his wife scolded lightly.  Vincent looked up at her innocently as if he were an ordinary house cat that had no idea what his master was saying.

      “ I’m to the best part of the book,” she pouted, “I’m almost to the end.”

      Her loving and understanding husband sat up and obediently retreated to his end of the short sofa, sitting sideways with a leg tucked beneath him and an arm propped on the back cushion. She, now, held the book in her lap with both hands, facing him.  One silky slender leg was bent at the knee leaning against the back of the sofa, while the other hung off the seat cushion. He watched her intently as she settled back down to finish her book; giving him one last over-the-book look that told him to behave. 

Perhaps he should just abandon his quest---patience was one of his virtues--- and let Catherine finish her book; after all, she had only a dozen pages left.  Vincent was sure that when his beloved was done, she would give him all the attention he desired.

      But…this game was much more fun.

      Vincent patiently waited until Catherine was once more engrossed in her novel. His almond shaped eyes narrowed to slits beneath his bristled brow, locked on his unsuspecting prey.  Vincent stalked her, slowly moving forward on his hands and knees, then dropped his bushy golden head to push himself into her book.  

      “Vincent,” Catherine groaned, not believing he kept interrupting her. She tried to hold him back, her tiny hand splayed against the top of his bowed head.  She moved her book to the side so she could continue reading it.  Pushing forward again as her hand fell away, Vincent nuzzled his face into her bosom making soft growls and murmuring purrs.  He ducked beneath her chin kissing the hollow of her jaw.

It was impossible for Catherine to continue reading. 

“Ahh…” Catherine grumbled.  She surrendered with a sigh, throwing her hands up.  “Ok, you win.”  She carefully tucked her opened book beneath her straightened leg so she would not lose her place.  

      “Alright, you overgrown tomcat,” Catherine said with a laugh.  She reached under her husband’s thick golden tumble for his hidden ears.  Catherine reached behind the secret appendages and scratched.  It was heaven!  Vincent loved this, leaning into one of his lover’s hands and then into the other.  He began to sigh and purr, a low happy buzz.  

      Catherine moved her manipulations to the soft skin below his velvet chin and then down his corded neck to the amber curls at his throat.  Vincent had a look of bliss on his upturned face, his long, ginger eyelashes smiling crescents against sculptured cheekbones and a sharp pearl incisor peeking from his curled lip.  Vincent dropped his head again to invite Catherine to dip her small hands down the back of his collar and rub the dark length of fur at his nape.  This dense under-mane ran in a line between his prominent shoulder blades narrowing to a stripe down his spine.

Vincent nuzzled Catherine’s neck, chest, and tummy until she began to giggle.  He used his nose to tickle until Catherine was shrieking for him to stop and playfully trying to push him away.  One of his strong arms snaked out to wrap around her narrow waist and slid his bride down so that she lay beneath his towering bulk.


      The couple stopped their horseplay to peer over the side of the sofa.  Catherine’s book had fallen closed on the floor, losing her place. 

      Catherine looked up at her lionine husband hovering over her, his enduring face framed in the halo of his golden mane.  She swallowed a laugh and said almost too seriously, “Now look what you’ve done…”

      Vincent blinked his sapphire eyes and gazed down at her innocent as an angel.

      “What do you have to say for yourself?” Her sparkling emeralds challenged.

      Vincent tipped his gilt head, trying to keep a straight face.  His azure eyes danced merrily.  “Meow?”

      Catherine threw her head back and laughed until she was in tears, then wrapped her arms around Vincent’s thick neck.  He toppled on top of her, chuckling triumphantly.