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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 07/20/2017
Single ... With Cats
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaSingle, with cats. The rather sad profile of Sally from Loneville caught Colin’s eye, and he nodded with satisfaction. He hadn’t been laid in months, and this desperado might just be the answer. His eyes skimmed over a rather plain looking woman sitting stiffly on a garden bench, squinting in the sunshine while someone took her picture. He could see several cats milling about in the background, with one particularly fat tabby sitting unhappily on her lap. He continued reading.
“Single, with cats. Looking for a man who loves cats. No dog lovers will be considered for even one minute (hahaha)! I’m a fun loving chick who … wait for it … loves cats! I’m a little on the “cuddly” side, but that only means there’s more of me to love! LOL!! I don’t want a relationship, but the occasional male “companionship” would be quite welcome. If you’re interested, send me a message and a pic (no naughty ones though haha!) and I’d love to see pics of your kittehs too!!”
Oh. My. GOD. Colin read through Sally’s profile again, his mouth hanging open. How old was this chick? Twelve?? Still, she was a woman and he was a man. And surely he could find some legit looking pictures of cats on the internet.
He Googled “cute cat pictures” and gaped in astonishment at the thousands of pages that came up. Huh. Who knew? He copied a picture of a mild looking tabby and a rather adorable little fluffy thing, and pasted them into a message.
“Hi Sally,” he typed. “You sound like just my type!! I love cats too, and here’s a picture of my two, Stevo and Princess Fluffybum. Haha.” He paused for a minute to let the nausea subside, and offered a quick prayer that his mates never hear of this. He added a picture of himself from several years ago. “If you like what you see, let me know!” He hit Send and rubbed his face wearily. The things a man will do for easy sex.
A reply was waiting for him the next morning. “Oh my God! Your furbabies are adorable! I’d love to meet you and swap kitteh tales (or should that be “tails” lol). I’ll meet you at Coffee2Go in town, 5pm this Saturday. If we “get on”, you can follow me home.”
Colin clapped his hands and spun around in his chair. Yesyesyes! Well that couldn’t have been any easier. All he had to do was put on the charm and she was his. He couldn’t imagine she’d be too choosy. The meeting was just a formality, he was sure, just to make sure he wasn’t a psycho or actually carrying weapons.
Saturday afternoon saw Colin showered and wearing his cleanest clothes, sipping a lukewarm, milky coffee in the small café. A dumpy waitress came over, and he was about to shoo her away when he suddenly realised it was Sally. Outrageous! Why, her profile picture had to be at least five years out of date!
Colin quickly recovered from the shock, and made a grand gesture for her to sit. “Can I get you anything?” he asked gamely. “A coffee, something to eat?”
Sally shook her head suspiciously. “All good, thanks. I’ve already ordered.” As she spoke, a real waitress brought over a small cup of something pale and frothy and smelling of cinnamon, and they sipped their brews and studied each other.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Colin could feel sweat prickling under his armpits. “So,” he tried. “You love cats! Do you have any pictures?” His wide grin stretched his face, and his toes curled uncontrollably in his sneakers. He prayed that no-one he knew would walk by and see his shame.
Sally’s face lit up, and for a moment she was almost pretty. “I don’t have any on me,” she gushed. “I don’t have a big enough bag!” She giggled. Colin giggled. “I do have plenty of pictures at home, though. Plus a nice bottle of wine in the fridge,” she peeked at him shyly.
Colin felt a rush of relief. It really was that easy. Thank God he didn’t have to sit here for an hour drinking vile coffee and discussing cats.
They stood up, and he followed Sally out. “We may as well take my car,” she said. I can drop you back here … after.”
Colin smiled and nodded. “That would be great,” he said. Hell, he’d agree to anything at this point. He felt his manhood stir in anticipation. He hoped he wouldn’t have to look at too many cat pictures first. Still, the wine should help.
They drove in silence, the sexual tension all but fogging up the windows.
Sally’s house was almost exactly how he envisioned a single woman’s house would look. A dying lawn, more weeds than grass, was about a month overdue for mowing. Some struggling bushes formed an inadequate barrier between neighbours. Decaying mulch was raked onto the outskirts of the lawn where cats had obviously used the area as a toilet.
The inside of the house was surprisingly tidy, though, and not quite as smelly as Colin had feared. The walls were papered with photos of an amazing variety of cats, of all colours, shapes and sizes.
Colin had barely set foot in the house when a fat tabby that looked remarkably similar to the one in Sally’s profile picture, waddled over and sank its teeth into his ankle. Colin screamed in surprise.
“Little Miss Muffin Top! Did you just bite that man’s ankle?” Sally paused and looked conspiratorially at Colin. “They know they’re in trouble when I use their full name,” she confided with a giggle. Colin smiled painfully, and rubbed his ankle.
Little Miss Muffin Top sat and glared unrepentantly at the humans. She had no regrets. Her tail went up, and the offended cat stalked haughtily from the room.
“I’m so sorry about that. Is there blood?” Sally hovered over Colin as he sat and rolled his sock down. There was a neat row of red indents, but thankfully the skin didn’t appear to be broken.
A small ginger cat sat on the back of the chair and patted Colin’s face sympathetically before biting the top of his head and running off in joy.
Colin rubbed his head and looked faintly at the blood on his fingertips.
Sally tsk tsked and led him through to the kitchen, where she sat him down and wiped over his injury with a clean cloth. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “They’re usually so friendly, I don’t know what’s gotten into them!”
A moth-eaten looking brown cat of indeterminate breed jumped onto the table and silently judged him. Another cat slinked around his ankles. He resisted the urge to kick it. He fantasised about having sex, then going around the house kicking every cat he found. He’d kick that fat bastard twice.
He got up and wandered over to the fridge in search of alcohol while Sally was looking for clean glasses. He grabbed the bottle of cheap wine, and scanned the shelves. There wasn’t much there. Milk, couple of eggs, cheese, bread, half a dozen packets of meat. The freezer was bare apart from a couple of frozen dinners and Sarah Lee cakes.
He went back to the table and poured the wine. “So, you’re quite the meat eater, then.”
Sally stared blankly at him, then at the fridge. “Oh no,” she said. “That’s for the cats. I’ve got over twenty of them, now. And boy, do they go through a lot of food!” She got up and opened the pantry door. There was one shelf with human food; a half empty pack of spaghetti, tomato sauce, tins of tuna, cheap snacks. The rest was filled with tins of cat food and cat biscuits.
She giggled at the look of astonishment on Colin’s face. “You know what it’s like. The cats always come first.”
“Yes, of course,” he quickly lied. “I’d do anything for my guys.”
Sally nodded. “Cheers.” They clinked wineglasses and drank. The wine was sickly sweet, but Colin quickly drank it and Sally poured him another.
She studied him over the top of her glass. “You don’t really have cats at all, do you Colin? If that’s even your real name.”
Colin choked and looked at her through watering eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“What were their names, again?”
“Um, I …” His thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to remember his fictitious cats’ names. He suddenly felt incredibly tired, his eyes blurring with fatigue.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t feel very well. Maybe you could just take me back …. back to ....” He stood up, his head spinning. His legs folded and he fell to the floor, bumping his head painfully on the dirty linoleum.
Cats appeared from all over, swamping him in furry warm bodies. The sound of purring was almost deafening. He couldn’t move.
Sally knelt down beside him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But do you know how much cat food costs these days?”
Colin stared at her in honest bewilderment.
Then the biting began.
Single ... With Cats(Hazel Dow)
Single, with cats. The rather sad profile of Sally from Loneville caught Colin’s eye, and he nodded with satisfaction. He hadn’t been laid in months, and this desperado might just be the answer. His eyes skimmed over a rather plain looking woman sitting stiffly on a garden bench, squinting in the sunshine while someone took her picture. He could see several cats milling about in the background, with one particularly fat tabby sitting unhappily on her lap. He continued reading.
“Single, with cats. Looking for a man who loves cats. No dog lovers will be considered for even one minute (hahaha)! I’m a fun loving chick who … wait for it … loves cats! I’m a little on the “cuddly” side, but that only means there’s more of me to love! LOL!! I don’t want a relationship, but the occasional male “companionship” would be quite welcome. If you’re interested, send me a message and a pic (no naughty ones though haha!) and I’d love to see pics of your kittehs too!!”
Oh. My. GOD. Colin read through Sally’s profile again, his mouth hanging open. How old was this chick? Twelve?? Still, she was a woman and he was a man. And surely he could find some legit looking pictures of cats on the internet.
He Googled “cute cat pictures” and gaped in astonishment at the thousands of pages that came up. Huh. Who knew? He copied a picture of a mild looking tabby and a rather adorable little fluffy thing, and pasted them into a message.
“Hi Sally,” he typed. “You sound like just my type!! I love cats too, and here’s a picture of my two, Stevo and Princess Fluffybum. Haha.” He paused for a minute to let the nausea subside, and offered a quick prayer that his mates never hear of this. He added a picture of himself from several years ago. “If you like what you see, let me know!” He hit Send and rubbed his face wearily. The things a man will do for easy sex.
A reply was waiting for him the next morning. “Oh my God! Your furbabies are adorable! I’d love to meet you and swap kitteh tales (or should that be “tails” lol). I’ll meet you at Coffee2Go in town, 5pm this Saturday. If we “get on”, you can follow me home.”
Colin clapped his hands and spun around in his chair. Yesyesyes! Well that couldn’t have been any easier. All he had to do was put on the charm and she was his. He couldn’t imagine she’d be too choosy. The meeting was just a formality, he was sure, just to make sure he wasn’t a psycho or actually carrying weapons.
Saturday afternoon saw Colin showered and wearing his cleanest clothes, sipping a lukewarm, milky coffee in the small café. A dumpy waitress came over, and he was about to shoo her away when he suddenly realised it was Sally. Outrageous! Why, her profile picture had to be at least five years out of date!
Colin quickly recovered from the shock, and made a grand gesture for her to sit. “Can I get you anything?” he asked gamely. “A coffee, something to eat?”
Sally shook her head suspiciously. “All good, thanks. I’ve already ordered.” As she spoke, a real waitress brought over a small cup of something pale and frothy and smelling of cinnamon, and they sipped their brews and studied each other.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Colin could feel sweat prickling under his armpits. “So,” he tried. “You love cats! Do you have any pictures?” His wide grin stretched his face, and his toes curled uncontrollably in his sneakers. He prayed that no-one he knew would walk by and see his shame.
Sally’s face lit up, and for a moment she was almost pretty. “I don’t have any on me,” she gushed. “I don’t have a big enough bag!” She giggled. Colin giggled. “I do have plenty of pictures at home, though. Plus a nice bottle of wine in the fridge,” she peeked at him shyly.
Colin felt a rush of relief. It really was that easy. Thank God he didn’t have to sit here for an hour drinking vile coffee and discussing cats.
They stood up, and he followed Sally out. “We may as well take my car,” she said. I can drop you back here … after.”
Colin smiled and nodded. “That would be great,” he said. Hell, he’d agree to anything at this point. He felt his manhood stir in anticipation. He hoped he wouldn’t have to look at too many cat pictures first. Still, the wine should help.
They drove in silence, the sexual tension all but fogging up the windows.
Sally’s house was almost exactly how he envisioned a single woman’s house would look. A dying lawn, more weeds than grass, was about a month overdue for mowing. Some struggling bushes formed an inadequate barrier between neighbours. Decaying mulch was raked onto the outskirts of the lawn where cats had obviously used the area as a toilet.
The inside of the house was surprisingly tidy, though, and not quite as smelly as Colin had feared. The walls were papered with photos of an amazing variety of cats, of all colours, shapes and sizes.
Colin had barely set foot in the house when a fat tabby that looked remarkably similar to the one in Sally’s profile picture, waddled over and sank its teeth into his ankle. Colin screamed in surprise.
“Little Miss Muffin Top! Did you just bite that man’s ankle?” Sally paused and looked conspiratorially at Colin. “They know they’re in trouble when I use their full name,” she confided with a giggle. Colin smiled painfully, and rubbed his ankle.
Little Miss Muffin Top sat and glared unrepentantly at the humans. She had no regrets. Her tail went up, and the offended cat stalked haughtily from the room.
“I’m so sorry about that. Is there blood?” Sally hovered over Colin as he sat and rolled his sock down. There was a neat row of red indents, but thankfully the skin didn’t appear to be broken.
A small ginger cat sat on the back of the chair and patted Colin’s face sympathetically before biting the top of his head and running off in joy.
Colin rubbed his head and looked faintly at the blood on his fingertips.
Sally tsk tsked and led him through to the kitchen, where she sat him down and wiped over his injury with a clean cloth. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “They’re usually so friendly, I don’t know what’s gotten into them!”
A moth-eaten looking brown cat of indeterminate breed jumped onto the table and silently judged him. Another cat slinked around his ankles. He resisted the urge to kick it. He fantasised about having sex, then going around the house kicking every cat he found. He’d kick that fat bastard twice.
He got up and wandered over to the fridge in search of alcohol while Sally was looking for clean glasses. He grabbed the bottle of cheap wine, and scanned the shelves. There wasn’t much there. Milk, couple of eggs, cheese, bread, half a dozen packets of meat. The freezer was bare apart from a couple of frozen dinners and Sarah Lee cakes.
He went back to the table and poured the wine. “So, you’re quite the meat eater, then.”
Sally stared blankly at him, then at the fridge. “Oh no,” she said. “That’s for the cats. I’ve got over twenty of them, now. And boy, do they go through a lot of food!” She got up and opened the pantry door. There was one shelf with human food; a half empty pack of spaghetti, tomato sauce, tins of tuna, cheap snacks. The rest was filled with tins of cat food and cat biscuits.
She giggled at the look of astonishment on Colin’s face. “You know what it’s like. The cats always come first.”
“Yes, of course,” he quickly lied. “I’d do anything for my guys.”
Sally nodded. “Cheers.” They clinked wineglasses and drank. The wine was sickly sweet, but Colin quickly drank it and Sally poured him another.
She studied him over the top of her glass. “You don’t really have cats at all, do you Colin? If that’s even your real name.”
Colin choked and looked at her through watering eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“What were their names, again?”
“Um, I …” His thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to remember his fictitious cats’ names. He suddenly felt incredibly tired, his eyes blurring with fatigue.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t feel very well. Maybe you could just take me back …. back to ....” He stood up, his head spinning. His legs folded and he fell to the floor, bumping his head painfully on the dirty linoleum.
Cats appeared from all over, swamping him in furry warm bodies. The sound of purring was almost deafening. He couldn’t move.
Sally knelt down beside him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But do you know how much cat food costs these days?”
Colin stared at her in honest bewilderment.
Then the biting began.
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