Somewhere in the valley

Somewhere in the valley.

The neighbor’s cat likes to climb up to my second story balcony when I’m out watering my plants. She has a pink collar with a little bell. She’s a grey tabby. Her black and brown stripes remind me of an old cat I used to have.

I like to keep humming bird feeders on my balcony. The feeders are too high up for the cat to reach. The humming birds too fast. So she sits tense, on the ledge and watches with wide eyes as the birds buzz in and out.

After I’ve watered my plants, I slip back inside my little two bedroom apartment. The cat stays out and watches the birds.

In my apartment, on the old and worn couch, in front of the t.v. that usually sits blank, a nearly naked and unbathed long haired blonde and beautiful young woman reads a book.

I go to the kitchen cupboard and pull down a bottle of Irish whiskey and pour us a drink. The cat and the lady, I know, are bored with their own lives, so they both come to be with me.

The cat hops down from the balcony and slinks into the kitchen. I know what she wants. She rubs herself against me. She meows and rubs some more. I open the freezer door and she stands on her hind legs and paws at my legs. She wants ice cream. Vanilla is her favorite. I always keep it stocked for her. I pull off the top of the 1/2 gallon tub to scoop her a big round serving. I set the dish down and she sits, shoulders pinched and back hunched as she licks and licks.

The lady on the couch looks up from her book. She is lighting a cigarette and she says, “You’re a slave to pussy in every way.”

I pick up the drink I’ve poured for us. I bring her hers and I kiss her mouth. Her breath is bad. Her lips are dry, but the kiss is wet and gets my cock to stiffen.

I say, “But it’s your pussy that’s got me whipped over any other, you cunt.” She laughs. And I nudge her legs open wider with the hand I’m holding my drink, with my free hand I pull open at the space between her thigh and the boxer shorts of mine that she’s been wearing for the last two days. The fur of her muff is thick, matted, soft and dark blonde. And I’m in love with her. And I am glad to be alive. I snicker to myself, “Good Lord, it’s good to be a man. It’s good to be a beast.” Then, we kiss again and I spill my drink. The cat in the kitchen laps at the bottom of her dish. And the birds buzz back and forth on my balcony. And I don’t don’t care if tomorrow never comes.

About magnumturtle

I write fiction.
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