Microfiction: Cat Call by Elizabeth Coldwell

“And look out for the cat,” the Morgans say. It’s the last item on their list, after telling me to help myself to snacks and that if Emmy wakes before they return, on no account to let her watch TV on the couch with me.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” I try to hurry them into their waiting taxi. Having to babysit on Halloween is grim enough, without the couple treating me like I’m nine, not nineteen.

“We don’t.” Shari Morgan adjusts the cape of her Supergirl costume. “He lives next door but he treats this place like his own… If you see him, don’t let him into the house.”

“I won’t, I promise. Now go.” At last I’m able to close the door behind them. Wandering through to the kitchen, I think about firing off a text to Deb or Mindy, telling them how lame this all is, but they’ll be at the party now, just like I should be.

I pour myself a glass of milk. Through the screen door, I think I see a sinuous black shape weaving its way up the path. Remembering the Morgans’ warning, I prepare to shoo the cat away. A noise over the baby monitor distracts me for a moment. When I turn back, if I didn’t know better I’d swear I could see the shape on the doorstep changing, growing larger… But that’s crazy. It’s nothing but a trick of the light. Even so, I’m startled when the knock at the door comes.

It’ll be trick or treaters, I tell myself, trying to recall where Shari Morgan said she’d left a bowl of candy for just such an occurrence.

“Happy Halloween. May I come in?”

The visitor is tall, with long black hair tied in a ponytail and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. He might be gorgeous, but caution guides me to ask, “Who are you?”

“Theo. I’m a neighbor. And you are…?”

“Brie. Emergency babysitter. Did you see a cat out there?”

He shakes his head. “No one here but me.” He smiles, slow and lazy, and something in me comes unglued. “Wanna hang out?”

“Sure.” None of the Morgans’ many rules said anything about not spending time with a very cute neighbor. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

I expect him to ask for a beer. Instead, he says, “That milk looks good.” He gulps it straight from the carton, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Want to dance?”

“Why not? When the cat’s away, right?”

Somehow, I find myself in the living room, pulled tight to Theo’s broad chest. Theo’s acting like he has the run of the place but I’m sure the Morgans won’t mind. They obviously know him, after all.

For a big man, he’s so light on his feet. He twirls me around till I’m dizzy and breathless. When he puts his lips to mine for the first time, I taste milk and something that’s uniquely him. His kisses are sweet, intoxicating, and I don’t object as he eases the straps of my dress from my shoulders. In the movies, bad things happen to babysitters on Halloween, but I feel safe in Theo’s arms. Safe, and a little bit naughty.

His cock rubs against me, hard in his jeans, and I reach down to unzip him. When I wrap my fingers around that thick, pulsing length, he purrs with delight. “Hey, slow down…”

“I can’t.” I stroke him up and down, relishing the feel of him in my hand.

Theo pulls my dress down further so he can knead my bare breasts. I don’t normally let a guy move so fast, but tonight I’m wild, wanton, my blood roused by the witchy magic of Halloween. He sucks my nipple, and desire zings down to my pussy.

We shed our clothes, and Theo urges me down onto all fours. I hear foil tearing, and I don’t look need to look over my shoulder to know he’s fitting a condom. He pushes home, stretching me with his big dick. This is how animals fuck, I catch myself thinking as his balls slap against my ass cheeks, and it feels so right. Heat rises between us, and we move in an ever-quickening rhythm.

In the moment before he comes he bites the nape of my neck, like he’s claiming me. It sets off my orgasm, and I dissolve around him.

He gathers me to him, and I rest my head on his dark mat of chest fur, sated and oh so pleased with myself. I don’t intend to sleep, but I begin to drift, and when I open my eyes again, Theo’s gone, leaving only a faint ache between my legs to remind me he was ever here.

 

* * *

 

The Morgans arrive home half an hour later.

“I hope you weren’t too bored,” Shari says, and I shake my head, though I’ve no intention of telling her how I passed the time. Her voice takes on an exasperated tone. “Oh, Theo, what are you doing here?”

I glance round, wondering if the tall, dark and friendly neighborhood hunk has come back to apologize for running out on me, and freeze. Standing on the mat, blinking his green eyes and licking his lips, is a sleek black cat.

Elizabeth Coldwell is the author of numerous short stories and two full-length novels, ‘Calendar Girl’ and ‘Playing The Field’. Her stories have appeared in the best-selling ‘Best Women’s Erotica’ series and Black Lace’s popular ‘Wicked Words’ collections. Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, she now contributes a spicy monthly column, ‘The Cougar Chronicles’, to its pages. When she is not busy writing, she is an avid supporter of Rotherham United Football Club and can be regularly found on the terraces at weekends, cheering her boys to victory (hopefully!).

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