Love and Whiskers

by Olivia Myers

  Then he was, thankfully, gone as abruptly as he’d arrived.

  Jessa turned her attention to the cy — the man — at her side. She could feel the smile stretching her lips.

  “So…”

  Mack’s tongue swept along his full lower lip, drawing her gaze. She watched his mouth move as he spoke.

  “There is something I need to tell you.”

  Jessa forced her gaze back to his, drinking in the sight of those pale gray irises. His dark brows drew down in a vee above the straight line of his nose. She reached up and stroked her pointer finger between them.

  “What’s that, baby?”

  “I am in love with you.”

  She ran her fingers up into his hair, feeling the heavy silk of it drift against her palm, tickling. The fire under her ribs was metaphorical now, and didn’t hurt at all.

  “I know.”

  Mack’s eyes widened. “You… Jessa…”

  Jessa tugged at his hair. “Now, come over here and let me give you another one of those demonstrations.”

  “You are injured.”

  She pulled harder until he shifted forward, sliding a knee onto the bed beside her. Jessa wrapped her other arm around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers.

  “Not that injured,” she murmured against his warm satin lips.

  His hands caressed her hair, brushing it back from her forehead.

  “I do not wish to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She traced his lips with her tongue, tasting coffee and sugar and Mack. He groaned, stroking her shoulders and down her back.

  “Jessa,” he warned. She kissed him, deep and slow and hot and passionate. When she pulled back, they were both panting.

  “I love you, too. Now, come here.”

  He did. And Jessa was once again thankful that her cy didn’t mind taking orders from a woman.

  THE END

  Psychic Hearts

  I’m twenty and I wish I could live in a nursing home. The older the people around me, the better. Most of the other students in my program think I’m crazy. Pediatrics is the number one choice for Physical Therapists at the University, but my excuse is that they need good people in Geriatrics. What I don’t tell them is that I enjoy the quiet that the minds of the elderly provide.

  The younger the person, the louder they are. I nearly lost it when I did my internship at the children’s wing of the hospital. Constant chatter in my head made me want to tear my hair out. As long as I don’t end up on maternity though, I’ll manage. That would do me in. I mean, one fetus is fun to talk to sometimes, but twenty? All at once? I shudder at the thought.

  Sunnydale is perfect. I could sit here and stare at the flowered wallpaper all afternoon, getting only the occasional memory flitting through. Usually it’s a nice memory too, like Mrs. Peterson’s first dance at her wedding, or Mr. Garfield’s son playing baseball on a summer day.

  Maybe I should date Mr. Garfield. The thought makes me sigh. My healthy libido hasn’t let me off the hook as far as the dating scene goes. I’ve been on no less than twelve dates this year, all ending in disaster. When you’re talking about your career goals and the guy’s thinking stuff like, “She’s hot. I wonder how far she’ll go on the first date,” – and picturing you naked but with comic book-sized breasts, well, it’s destined to fail.

  I check my phone. It’s almost seven. Time for bed for Mr. G., and time for me to clock out and change for tonight’s scheduled disaster. My roommate, Sara, set me up on a blind date. I only agreed because this time she said she and her boyfriend, Rick, would come too, and it’s a party not a restaurant. No chance of me sensing what the guy wants before he does and ordering for him—things like that tend to weird people out. Plus alcohol, which is the only other thing I know of that drowns out the voices.

  Besides, I’m in serious need of a good lay.

  Sara hands me a duffle the second I get in the passenger seat of her beat-up Chevy. Inside I find her lucky dress, deodorant, a brush, and my makeup bag.

  “Really?” I ask, holding up the tiny black outfit. She’s smaller than me, so I’m pretty sure I’ll look like a slut, but I guess for tonight, that works.

  She nods. “I really think you’re going to like Tristan, Cass. I know you’re super picky, but he’s sweet, smart, and sexy.”

  “So why’s he single?” I challenge, working the tight black dress down over my body. As I suspected, it hits just above mid thigh and hugs me super tight around the chest.

  “He just got out of a two year relationship. He wouldn’t date for weeks, but Rick convinced him you’re worth it. So don’t blow it.”

  I fluff out my dark brown hair, and add some thick black liner and light pink gloss. Nice. And I’m ready just in time because we’ve pulled up in front of a house a few blocks from campus.

  The party’s already in full swing. The ground thumps with the beat of bass, and tons of people mill around on the lawn and porch with the obligatory red plastic cups. Rick is waiting near the door, waving like a lunatic. Sara smiles, blushing a little. He’s so cute in those jeans. God I love that ass.

  Ugh, Sara! I don’t need to hear those thoughts. I reach for the door before she starts picturing them doing it, which happens way too often, but she catches my arm. “Hang on!”

  She reaches behind her and thrusts some Fuck Me Pumps in my face. They’re bright red with ankle straps and six-inch stiletto heels. I smile, shake my head, and slip them on. I hope this guy’s tall because now I’m a freaking Amazon.

  While Sara tucks my work flats into her bag, I snatch the beer from Rick’s hand. I chug while he and Sara swap spit because they haven’t seen each other since class this morning.

  Finally they separate for long enough that we can get inside the house. I scan the crowd, bouncing around inside to the head-pounding music. A million voices buzz in my head, but the beer’s already helping dampen the noise.

  It’s amazing how much people think about sex.

  “Hey, Cass. I think Tristan’s in the kitchen. He wanted a drink.” Rick screams the words even though he’s less than two feet away. I nod, showing I understand. “He’s really tall and he’s wearing a red shirt.”

  I slip inside, navigating the thrusting bodies. When my cup is empty I ditch it on an end table and grab someone else’s. Alcohol kills all the germs, right? I down it, but it isn’t beer. It’s hard liquor and I almost choke. Still, it feels good going down and warms my insides. That ought to help get me there faster.

  By the time I reach the kitchen, I’ve got a nice buzz going and the chatter in my head is much softer. There’s a couple pressed together in the corner, and another talking animatedly. I get closer and I hear the girl first. I think he likes me and he’s pre-med too. She flips her hair back and smiles.

  I smile too, until I hear the guy. Come on, drink it. Stop talking so much, airhead. I spent good money on that pill and I want to get in your pants already.

  My fist clenches at my side. I was taking tonight off of my little weekend hobby I like to call Superhero Watch, but I’ll be damned if I’m letting this guy get away with date rape.

  “Excuse me,” I say, stopping the girl as she lifts the cup to her lips. “Have you seen Tristan? I’m supposed to meet him here.” I smile, acting a bit more drunk than I actually am and stumble over my heels, “accidentally” knocking her drugged beer to the ground. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”

  Goddammit, drunk bitch. That was my last Roofy.

  I glare at the guy as the girl tells me she doesn’t know a Tristan. Go away. I almost got him to ask me out.

  Sometimes it’s tempting not to help the victim. I sigh and drape an arm around her shoulders. I lean in to her ear and whisper, “I saw him slip something in your drink. Be careful.” Then I giggle and stand up straight.

  The girl’s eyes grow big. “Thank you,” she says and runs out of the room.

  “What did you say to her?” the guy demands, stepping toward me, anger in his eyes. I stumble b
ackwards a little, not expecting that.

  “Is this guy bothering you?” Another guy, about six-foot-two with the nicest grey eyes I’ve ever seen, joins us. He must’ve come in the other door.

  I don’t need this shit. Tonight’s a bust, the date rapist thinks. He puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender before retreating back into the party.

  “Thanks,” I say, enjoying the knight in shining armor’s shadow of facial hair and full lips. “You wouldn’t happen to be Tristan, would you?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re Cassandra.” He smiles really big.

  I nod, wanting to go straight for his luscious lips, but I try to control myself. “You’re only missing the armor.”

  I playfully put a hand on his chest. Oh yeah. Hard as a rock.

  She’s pretty.

  “Thank you,” I say, then realize he didn’t say it out loud. “I’d love a drink.” I add the last quickly like it was a joke, and laugh awkwardly. After years of dealing with awkward moments, I’ve learned to bluff my way through most of them.

  “Oh! Sure. Um, here.” He searches the counter, takes a fresh cup and pours some cheap wine in it from an open bottle on the counter.

  I take the drink and grin. “So you’re friends with Rick.”

  “Yeah. I don’t usually come to parties like this, but he kind of begged me. Now I’m glad I said yes.”

  I down the wine. “I don’t usually come to these parties, either,” I lie. “But Sara wanted me to meet you and now I see why. How about we get out of here?”

  Tristan offers me his arm and leads me outside and to his car, keeping with the gallant knight persona. His mind is blissfully quiet now that all the alcohol has kicked in, and I can concentrate on enjoying his gorgeous body and those amazing eyes.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asks, when he’s gotten in the driver’s seat.

  I grasp him by the neck and pull him over the center console for a kiss. He melts right into it and I suck in his lower lip, which is just as soft as I thought it would be. My hands travel down his chest to his waist, and I slip my hand under his shirt, where I explore every ridge as I climb up onto my knees.

  He breaks away, breathing hard. I take the opportunity to pull off the lucky dress. It’s done its job already.

  “Wow,” he says. “Isn’t this kind of fast?”

  “Shut up and take off your pants,” I say, climbing over so I’m straddling his lap, my chest pressed against his. His body is warm and delicious. I use my teeth and tongue to tease at the skin of his neck, while undoing his zipper and button since he’s not moving fast enough for me.

  The alcohol makes everything softer and I feel like I’m spinning on a cloud while his hands finally join in and explore my body. He reaches between us and slides his fingers between my thighs, stroking me.

  “Yes,” I say, straining against him, coaxing him further. His fingers slip inside of me and explore, making me moan with pleasure. He’s ready now too—I feel him swollen against my stomach.

  My hand fumbles on the side of the seat for the controls and I send him backwards, me on top, laughing. His dick is standing at attention, hard and ready, so I adjust my position so I can slide over him. It’s pure decadence as I churn my hips, bouncing over his lap.

  “Wait. Condom,” he pants.

  “It’s more adventurous this way,” I say, through my own heavy breaths.

  He lets his head fall back against the seat, eyes closed in the throes of ecstasy. His hands run up my abdomen to cup and squeeze my bobbing breasts.

  I gasp as I reach orgasm, my body releasing all pent up tension as waves of passion pulse through me.

  “Oh, God.” Tristan releases inside of me, clutching my hips like a lifeline as he reaches his own peak.

  I lie down over him, meeting those delicious lips again with mine as he runs his hands up and down my sides and back, finally cupping my head.

  “Wow,” he says, when I release him. “Just. Wow. I… I’m sorry if I moved too fast for you.”

  I laugh as I pull the dress back over my head. “I think I’m the one that should apologize. I kind of made the move, you know?”

  I flop back in my own seat, sweating, and completely satisfied.

  “Well I would’ve at least liked to take you somewhere nicer, but I can’t exactly complain,” Tristan says, fixing himself and his own seat. “It’s been a while and well, I hope I wasn’t too fast for you.” His face burns red even in the low light of the nearest street lamp.

  I place my hand over his. “You were perfect.”

  He’s even hotter with his hair all mussed up like that. I’m so glad I can’t read his thoughts right now since they’d probably ruin the whole thing. I like taking what he says at face value.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, actually starting the car.

  “Actually, do you mind just taking me home? I’m really tired.”

  “Oh. Um, sure.” Tristan listens to my directions and gets me back to the small apartment I share with Sara. We’re silent on the way, which is great for me because for once there’s literally no sound.

  “Here we are,” I say as he puts it in park. “Thanks for everything.” The world spins as I open the car door. “Whoa.”

  “Let me help you to the door at least,” he says, rushing around to my side and offering a hand.

  I take it and bump into him as I stand up. “You’re cute,” I say. “And you have a great cock.”

  His eyebrows shoot up in the air. “Thank you?”

  I touch the tip of his nose with my finger and blow him a kiss before leaving him behind on the sidewalk.

  ***

  I expect to pay the morning after I get drunk, but it’s been weeks and I still feel sick. I must’ve caught some long-acting flu because I can’t stop puking. Probably got it from Tristan. At least it wasn’t an STD.

  “You okay?” Sara asks me for the sixteenth time since class. We had Psych with Mr. Evans, the oldest professor on campus, this morning. I registered for his class on purpose so I wouldn’t hear his thoughts. She got him by accident and was upset, but only until she realized we had the same class. “You don’t look so good.”

  “Thanks.” I’d heard it in her thoughts a bunch of times already, but saying it out loud didn’t help. She’s right though—I’m pale and I feel like crap. And despite my stomach issues, I’ve been starving, stuffing my face, and have started getting a little soft around the middle as a result.

  “That’s not fair,” Sara says when I whine about it out loud. “I know you’ve been eating bad lately, but it shouldn’t count if you just throw it all up again. Maybe you should go to the health center.”

  “So they can practice on me?” I laugh. I have no desire to be a guinea pig for med students. They have a reputation for telling everyone they have mono anyhow until they test and it comes out negative. I think I’m beyond their scope.

  “I’m hungry. Want to grab lunch?” I ask.

  Sara rolls her eyes. “I’m meeting Rick. Catch you later?”

  “Sure.”

  I grab my purse and head over to the student union where I grab an entire giant, greasy pizza. I sit down at a table and try to block out as much as possible. The usual assault of thoughts isn’t too bad though, because it’s only a few minutes before ten, and there aren’t many people around.

  I sink my teeth into the first bite. The chair next to me scrapes against the floor as someone sits down, and I jump.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s a guy about my age with deep-set blue eyes and sandy blond hair. He’s cute so I forgive him. But more importantly, I can’t hear him.

  “Do I know you?” I’m a little afraid he’ll say yes. What if I got too drunk one night and…

  “No. But I do know some things about you.” He folds his hands on the table and leans in close.

  “Like what?” I ask, curious.

  “You like pizza for starters. I mean really like it.”

  I laugh. “You’re a
deductive genius. Is your name Sherlock?”

  “No. It’s Evan. So tell me, Cassie, how long have you been pregnant?”

  I drop the pizza I’d been lifting toward my mouth. “Excuse me?”

  Evan sits up straight. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew you were eating for two.”

  “Nice.” That’s the second time today someone’s insulted my looks. But this time it’s a handsome guy that I can’t get a reading on. Until now I was hoping he was my next fuck. Even boyfriend material because apparently I wouldn’t have to stay drunk to avoid his thoughts. Too bad he puts them on broadcast to everyone anyway.

  I stand and grab my pizza box to move but he catches my elbow. “Please wait. This isn’t what I intended at all.”

  I sigh and let him tug me back to my seat, where I once again attempt to eat. My mind wanders, though. The memory of my night with Tristan in his car is still fresh and brings heat to my cheeks. I told him there was no time for condoms. I open my phone’s calendar as Evan says something about a bookstore on Main. Has it really been two whole months since the party? That can’t be right. I count again to be sure.

  The flu doesn’t last two months.

  I haven’t had a period either.

  Shit.

  “You okay?” Evan asks, reaching out.

  “You knew. How? How did you know? Don’t tell me because I was eating pizza. You didn’t know I planned to eat the whole damn thing.” I don’t care that I’m shouting. I’m shaking also with rage, fear, and shock. I can’t be pregnant. Evan will tell me I’m nuts and leave and I’ll know it was all in my head.

  “Calm down, Cassie.”

  “You knew my name too.”

  Evan presses his lips together, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening. “It’s the first thing the baby learns. His mother’s name.”

  I think I’m going to puke again.

  “You’re psychic?” I ask, standing. He doesn’t stop me this time.

  Evan looks unsure of how to handle me. Finally he says, “So are you.”

  “How did you know?”

  “The baby knows. He will be too, but I can hear him because he’s still so young.”