Black: MM Kitty Play Romance

by Quin Perin

  “Shopping for clothes. How does that work?” I choked out. Jesus, I sounded like an idiot.

  “They feel the fabric together, and Zoe tells him about what kind of cut it is. Dima was in the middle of a fashion photography course when it happened. He’s really into it or well, was,” Sara explained, her voice getting quieter.

  Looking down at my knuckles, I shook my head. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost my sight. Especially if it happened in a foreign country. I folded my hands together, letting my head hang. I had no idea why this affected me so much, but it did.

  “Don’t get involved, Tony. He’s got a good thing going on here,” Jan said before he exhaled the smoke again. “You’re leaving soon anyway. Let it be.” I wasn’t going to let anything be. I needed to know more about him. I needed to ask him out on a date. One without coffee.

  TEN

  DIMA

  The next morning had dawned cold, and it felt grey. One of those days where clouds covered the sky and the sun never seemed to rise. Like the end of the world. Before, I’d always hated those days. My mother used to say I was like a flower, perking up my petals in the light and curling them up when it was dark. Dreary days depressed me, put me in a cranky mood. Eugene had always hated grey days because of it. I would be out of sorts and wouldn’t want to get up to do anything. When I could, I’d stay curled up, a little lump under the blankets, and sulked until the sunset, and it felt right again. I had days like that more often now, but it usually had nothing to do with the weather.

  A biting breeze caught my sweater as I scurried my way to work, staying close to the buildings beside me. I still counted, although at this point, I didn’t need to. I kept my head down and hat pulled so low my eyelashes caught against the fabric each time I blinked. It was supposed to warm up, so I hadn’t brought my heavier coat, but by the time I made it to the café, I was shaking so hard that I wished I had. If Zoe were coming in today, she would have yelled and whacked me upside my head.

  “Dima, you look half-frozen.” Jan’s warm voice greeted me as I pushed the door to the shop open. “Did something happen to your jacket?”

  Between Zoe and Jan, it was like I was still living with my parents. “Noooooo,” I groaned, taking my hat off and shaking my hair out as I moved toward the back. “It’s supposed to warm up…”

  Jan laughed, and I heard him set a mug on the counter. “It will warm up, but the flu doesn’t care. You can still get sick,” he said. “Now come, get your latte.”

  “Yes, boss.” I chuckled, taking my sweater off and draping it over my arm. I headed to the counter, gently trailing my fingers across the top until I hit the edge of the mug he’d gotten ready for me. I followed the side of it, grabbing up the handle and picking it up. One of the benefits of working here was my morning coffee was always on the house. “Anything special I should make today?”

  “Mm. Outside of the usual stuff, have at it,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything you make that people don’t gobble up. You have a knack for this.”

  I laughed into my drink, licking foam from my lips. “Compliment me some more, and I’ll make you that carrot cake you like so much.” Balancing my drink, I made my way toward the back.

  “Hey, Dima?”

  “Hm?” I stopped, hand on the door.

  “I’m sorry about Tony. He’s not a bad guy really. Sara says he has a habit of coming off as a bit strong,” he said.

  “Who’s Tony?” I asked innocently.

  Jan scoffed. “Dima.”

  Afternoon came, and it warmed up, like the weather station had predicted. My light sweater kept me warm enough, and my hat was in my lap as I sat at the beach. When I leaned back and turned my face upward, a faint hint of the sun’s rays hit me. Occasionally, a breeze picked up for a moment, danced its tendrils over me, made me shiver, and then died down again. A beautiful day; I was sure of it.

  I’d been there all of ten minutes, maybe less, when footsteps approached. The slats of the bench shifted, squeaked, and I sighed. “Hello, Tony,” I said with my eyes closed.

  “Hm. How did you know it was me?” His voice was husky, breathing elevated. As if he’d been running.

  “I saw you coming from a mile away,” I quipped. It wasn’t a lie. He seemed persistent, and I had a feeling he’d come around again.

  “Well, I’ll take the fact that you didn’t run the opposite way as a good sign.” He shifted around, and paper crinkled.

  “If you’d like to flatter yourself like that, you’re more than welcome to.”

  He grumbled and shifted, falling silent. The quiet stretched between us, and I found that I quite liked him when he didn’t speak. Though I also kind of enjoyed that husky rasp in his voice. I wondered what he sounded like when he got turned on. “I want to ask you out,” he said finally, ripping me from my thoughts.

  “For coffee?” I asked dryly.

  “No.” He huffed. “Actually, I want to ask you out on a pre-date, and then if you like that, we can go on an actual date.”

  A pre-date? I had no idea what he was smoking, but I wondered if he would share it with me. “Uhm…and what does this pre-date consist of? Dry-humping?”

  Tony adjusted himself on the bench, and from the way the wood shifted, depressing more at the front, I could tell he sat on the edge of it. “I brought a blanket, Oreos, and milk,” he said. “Our pre-date can consist of being warm and eating.”

  Oreos? Seriously? He must have talked to Jan. “I have to get back to work soon,” I protested. Admittedly, the idea sounded kinda fun. It was a bit out there, but that was what attracted me to it. It was definitely better than asking me out for coffee in the middle of a café.

  “No, you don’t.” His voice practically burned with his grin. “I spoke to Jan. He said you could take a long lunch.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure he did.”

  “Ah, Jan said you wouldn’t believe me.”

  I heard the faint buzz of his phone as he unlocked it.

  “Listen.”

  A few seconds of silence and then Jan’s voice came over the speaker. It sounded as if he was held hostage somewhere: Hey, Dima. You can take a two-hour lunch to spend time with Tony. You got my blessing.

  Well, shit.

  I guess he had me there. “Okay. Fine.”

  Tony

  With a grin, I draped the blanket across his lap, shifted under it myself, and then removed one cookie from the package. “Open your hand for me,” I said and watched his fingers unfold. I placed the cookie on his palm. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Jesus, he was gorgeous. I had also brought a small bowl to fill with milk so he could dip the Oreos in. Personally, I didn’t care much for them—too sweet—but Jan had told me Dima was crazy about them.

  Funny that someone who baked like Dima had a preference for store-bought cookies, but I wasn’t the kind to judge. I watched as he nipped at the dry cookie, setting the bowl between our thighs so he could feel it there. I poured milk into it before gently taking his wrist to guide the cookie toward it.

  “Man, you’re so weird.” He laughed as it soaked up the milk. Carefully, Dima raised it to his lips and took a proper bite. Watching him, having him sit so close to me was all I could wish for. I wanted to know more about him, about how he dealt with losing his sight, but now was not the time to poke and prod.

  “Why do you like this spot so much?” I asked, averting my attention from him to the sea.

  Dima hummed, finishing off his first Oreo with another bite. He opened his hand suggestively, fingers wiggling. I chuckled and handed him another one. This time, Dima instantly dipped the cookie into the milk with impressive precision. Halfway in until the tip of his finger grazed the milk.

  “I like the sound of it. It’s soothing.”

  I nodded. That made sense.

  “Better than listening to all the crap people talk about anyway.” For a moment, I blankly stared at him. The things he said, the little, snarky comments, they threw me off guard. He looked too
sweet to say anything like that.

  “Have you always been this bitter?”

  Dima stopped chewing at my question, fingertips brushing together to get rid of any lingering crumbs. “Pardon me?”

  Resting my arm behind him on the bench, I leaned back and looked up at the clearing sky. “You don’t seem to like people much. Why is that? Bad experience?” Dima didn’t open his hand this time. Silence settled upon us, but I wasn’t going to break it. I leaned a little closer; he smelled of cinnamon and flour. Delicious. All I had to do was reach out to bite his earlobe, suck it into my mouth...

  “I can hear you breathe,” Dima said, and for some reason, that made me laugh.

  Pulling back, I adjusted my position on the bench, arms spread and resting on the back of it. “Tell me, why do you hate people so much?”

  However much I tried, my thoughts kept circling back to touching him, smelling him, breathing him in. He was like a drug. Like the beginning of an addiction. My insides felt restless, twisting and turning. Nervous of his proximity. I couldn’t stop looking at him, but I didn’t have to either.

  “People inflict a lot of pain. They’re dishonest, only care about themselves. I prefer animals. Cats, for example, they don’t pretend to be something they’re not. They are so honest it hurts, but at least they don’t betray you.”

  “Umm…”

  “Oreo.”

  I obliged quickly, slipping out another cookie from the package. Dima dipped it in the milk, then munched it silently. A stray milky droplet fell from the tip of his finger onto his lips; his tongue darted out swiftly, catching it.

  I didn’t know what to say. Jan and Sara had implied he’d been through a rough patch in his life. Going blind, being left. I understood, sort of. Although my last relationship was...four or so years ago? On the road, I spent time with people who knew I was leaving soon. No strings attached. Fun. I had the feeling Dima didn’t appreciate that kind of behavior. Leaving someone behind.

  “What about you?” he suddenly asked, rubbing his hands together to either warm up or to brush off any crumbs.

  “I don’t hate people. In fact, I’m really fond of them. I like going on adventures. I travel a lot, and so I’m bound to meet interesting people with interesting stories.” I paused when Dima leaned back and shifted under the blanket, crossing his arms. His slender hands rested on the crook of his elbows. I wanted to pick them up and kiss his knuckles.

  “Like me?”

  “Not quite. You’re different.”

  “How am I different?” Tilting his head to the side, Dima turned to face me. His big, dark eyes were surrounded by thin, long lashes. Like a freakin’ doll. When I looked at him, I felt like I was squinting into the sun. So beautiful it hurt.

  “Jesus, don’t do that.” I snorted, making him frown.

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me like that.”

  “You do realize I cannot see you, right?”

  Grinning, I patted his thigh, then froze at our sudden connection. The milk in the bowl between us sloshed from side to side, almost staining the blanket.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I said quietly, my hand warming the fabric between us. Dima’s lips spread into a smile; it was the most amazing sight. Slowly, he shook his head at me, eyes closing.

  “Man, you’re cheesy.”

  “Romantic,” I amended.

  “No, cheesy. The Oreos, the blanket, the compliments. It’s a bit much.” Dima sighed, settling back against the bench. I loosened my grip on his thigh, but his hand suddenly fell to mine, keeping it there. “Don’t stop.”

  It was an order, plain and simple. I wondered how long it’d been since someone touched him like that. Without expecting more. Pure affection. I assumed he’d had his fair share of lovers because of what he looked like and how he took care of himself. This bitter, snarky guy was more exciting than anyone I’d met the past two years. Like a puzzle I wanted to solve.

  It all came down to this, and it all began here.

  ELEVEN

  Dima

  It felt like the entire café fell silent the moment I walked in after my extended lunch. I might not be able to see, but I felt eyes on me. Could feel them burning into me, and if I’d had any shame left, I would have blushed. But I was shameless; my friends told me that all the time.

  “Sooo, how’d it go?” Zoe burst out in the silence of the room. I heard no murmurs. No voices, so it must have been empty, and I had imagined the feeling. Or Zoe was staring that hard.

  Zoe knew about that silly thing with Tony. Of course, she knew. Jan would have told her so that when she came in, she could comfort me if something went wrong. I was beginning to think my friends were far too invested in my sex life. That’s what I got for catching the attention of the boss’s future brother-in-law.

  “How did what go?” I asked, seemingly clueless.

  I didn’t bother going back into the kitchen and instead slipped behind the counter. She would follow me if I did. Zoe’s fingers brushed against my shoulder, letting me know she was standing close. My friends all had permission to touch me so I knew where they were. I found it comforting to have a general idea.

  I supposed I should have been upset by all the curiosity surrounding Tony and me, but it was hard when it came from someone who was genuinely like a sister to me. Someone who I knew actually cared about me.

  “Don’t be coy,” she said, tsk-ing me. “Jan told me all about your Prince Charming coming to visit you on your lunch break.”

  I cocked my head to the side and snorted. “Prince Charming? Is that what he is?” I asked. “I don’t know about that. He brought me cookies and milk. Wouldn’t Prince Charming come with, like, bottles of gold champagne and a pony or something?”

  Zoe’s laughter was loud in my ears as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I think you’re finding reasons not to go out with him despite the fact that he’s your type.”

  “By my type you mean he’s hung like a horse or…?”

  Zoe laughed harder, nails digging into my arm as she clung to me. “Dima!”

  Her tone sounded scandalized, but I knew better than that. She expected it from me at this point; it had been a while since I’d managed to actually shock her. She knew my feelings about relationships and my feelings about sex. Namely, relationships were no fun and sex was a lot of fun.

  Nudging her with my hip, I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my lips. “Do you think that he is?” I mused.

  “Hung like a horse? Mm. Maybe.” She supported herself against me while I rested myself against her, leaning together as we gossiped. “He’s a big dude. But not big like he works out at the gym too much to make up for having a little winkie.”

  That was sort of what he felt like when he’d leaned close to me. I knew he was a bit taller than me and heavier from the way the bench shifted under him. But he didn’t move heavily, as if he was burdened with too many muscles. He had a large presence, looming but not imposing. And I did like that in a guy. “You know,” I started, “if he works this hard trying to get a date, I can’t imagine what he’d be like in bed…” It was a thought that had crossed my mind as we sat there on the bench.

  “Oh, you totally said yes, didn’t you?” Zoe asked.

  “Maybe…”

  Tony hadn’t exactly told me what he wanted to do for our date, but I knew one thing: it would end at my apartment. Preferably with us in bed sans clothing. I wouldn’t mind if it ended on the couch or in the shower either. Maybe even mix it up in the kitchen. So I had to make sure anywhere we might end up was clean enough. I’d spent the entire evening cleaning so Tony wouldn’t think I was a slob. It wasn’t too hard. My apartment was neat, and Zoe came over once or twice a month to help with the deep cleaning.

  I used to like things a bit cluttered and frantic to suit my personality. That had quickly changed when I’d realized I wasn’t capable of living like that anymore. I needed things simple and pared down to function. Too much stuff had a tend
ency to shift around and get in my way. With the help of friends, I’d given a lot away after I lost my sight, and now my home was best described as minimalist. I had kept a few things to remind me of what once was. Who I had been before.

  I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, phone in hand and held out in front of me. The mirror was normally covered up to prevent it from getting dusty, but I’d pushed the fabric to the side. “Well, what do you think?” I asked, waving my phone around to take in the entirety of my outfit...hopefully.

  “It looks good,” Zoe’s voice came from the speaker. “You look hot. Those jeans, ooooh, he’s gonna be staring at your ass all night.”

  “Good.” With some special organization and special labels, I managed to put together attractive outfits with no problem. It didn’t hurt that my wardrobe was one of those capsule wardrobes where everything went with everything. I stuck to muted colors, a lot of black and grey and white. I had a few colorful accessories, but I wasn’t adventurous too often. I wanted to look good. Put together. As if I actually knew what I was doing. Not like a toddler who got dressed while high on sugar. “Think I need anything else?”

  “Nah,” she said. “But don’t wear a heavy jacket. It’s supposed to be cold, and you always look so pathetically cute when you get all chilly. He’ll have to get all up on you.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “Thank you, Zoe. Talk to you later,” I cut her off before she could say anything else. With an assistive app that spoke to me whenever I touched something, I pressed the call end button and listened to that familiar sound. After turning my display off, I slipped my phone into my back pocket and smoothed out my shirt again.