Elizabeth Stewart - Stray Thoughts (Ellora's Cave)

by Nicole

  “Are you leaving?” she asked him, suddenly disappointed and yes, sad, that this stranger was apparently getting ready to drift out of her life as simply as he’d drifted in.

  In answer, the cat raised himself on his hind legs and stretched up.

  “Well, I guess that’s clear enough.” Unlatching and raising the window enough for him to reach the windowsill, he immediately hopped up, balancing himself lightly on the narrow ledge. For a moment he hesitated, turned his head and focused those beautiful eyes on her again. There was a pang in the pit of her stomach, and she had the thought that perhaps she should grab him and shut the window.

  There was the sound of a door opening in the hall and Sheridan turned her head for a moment. Turning back, she saw that he was gone. Absolutely gone.

  Sheridan opened the window enough to put her head out, craning to scan the fire escape up and down and the alley as far as she could see. But there was no trace of him anywhere. It was as if he’d simply vanished.

  A blast of winter air blew through the window and she shivered. Snapping it shut with a thump, she gazed out the window again, confusion, uncertainty and a keen sense of loss, all running together. With a final shake of her head, she picked up her briefcase and left.

  *

  “Well,” Pat laughed, “at least it’s a start.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sheridan asked as she popped another bite of warm coffeecake into her mouth.

  “That it’s high time you picked up a stray male and got him into your bed. Now that you’ve taken the plunge with a cat, maybe you’ll consider moving up to a real guy.”

  “Pat,” she answered, trying to sound annoyed, “you’re terrible.”

  “What?”

  “You know damn well, ‘what’.”

  “Look, Sher,” she said seriously. “I know how bad it was. But he was a louse and a rat and it’s been five years already. It’s time to bury it and get on.”

  “That’s a lot easier said than done,” she tried to deflect. “Especially for a short, dumpy, middle-aged secretary with a dead end job and wannabe aspirations to a career in writing.”

  The other woman waved her hand and shook her shoulder length brown hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re barely thirty-six, petite and at a hundred and twenty pounds and a size eight, hardly dumpy. And you know that without you, this place would fall apart. As for your writing, I personally look forward to the day when I’ll be invited to cocktail parties because I knew you when.”

  “Will you please keep it down?” Sheridan hushed, glancing quickly at the open door of the office break room. “If I wanted the whole office to know, I’d post it on the bulletin board.”

  “I’m just trying to tell you, for about the umpteenth time, that just because one relationship went south, doesn’t mean you have to hang it up for good. After all, Bruce and I are both on our second go around and we’ve been together fifteen years.”

  “You lucked out.”

  “You might too, if you’d give it half a chance.” She leaned in and grinned mischievously, her hazel eyes shining behind her pale blue glasses. “There’s this guy Bruce works with. Lou Magris. I met him at the office anniversary party in October. Great guy. Dark eyes. Brown hair. Built like a brick outhouse. Looks kinda like Harrison Ford.”

  “Part of Bruce’s survey party?”

  “Uh-uh. He’s an engineer.”

  “I thought so,” Sheridan sighed disgustedly. “Like I don’t get enough aggravation from the engineers I have to work with. Now you’re suggesting I get one to give me misery at home as well? No thanks.”

  Her friend made a face. “No, no. He’s not a civil guy like here. He’s a mechanical engineer. Works in a whole ‘nother division. He and Bruce were standing in the cafeteria line and got to shootin’ the bull about basketball. I could invite him for dinner on Saturday and you and he could get better acquainted. Whattaya say?”

  “I say thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Why, for Christ’s sake, not?”

  “Because I couldn’t hang on to the last man I was with. Hell, I couldn’t even hang on to a stray cat. I’ve had just about all the males I can stand.”

  A young man’s anxious face appeared in the doorway. “Sher,” he hissed loudly, looking back over his shoulder. “Dracula’s roaming the halls looking for you. And he’s sharpening his fangs. I hope you got your cast-iron pantyhose on.” Another furtive glance back. “Shit. I’m outta here,” and he disappeared.

  Sheridan stood up hurriedly, hoping to make her getaway. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough and the doorway was filled with a huge, dark presence.

  “Mr. Duncan.”

  He glared down at her. At six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds, he looked more like a defensive end than a professional engineer. Thinning iron-gray hair, worn in a “buzz” cut, mean, dark gray eyes and hard mouth. Cold disdain and an arrogant manner he always used with those he considered “lesser beings,” combined with an unfailing ability to blame his subordinates for his screw-ups had earned him the undying hatred of virtually everyone he worked with. Only the Director, John Curtin, remained in his corner and that was mostly due to Duncan’s first-rate ability to brown nose.

  “I need the budget estimates for the Crane Project.”

  “Yes sir,” she answered deferentially.

  With an annoyed snort, he glanced at his watch. “I need them now.” He paused ever so slightly. “If, of course, you’re finished with your break.”

  Yeah. Right. Like you give a shit whether I’m finished or not, she thought bitterly. “I was just going back to my desk, sir. I’ll have the estimates on your desk in a minute.”

  “And don’t forget that draft for the Director is due by four. He wants a chance to look it over before I submit the final.”

  “Yes sir,” Sheridan repeated. “You’ll have it by noon.”

  “Be sure I do. You’ll no doubt have to make changes after I’m finished proofreading it.”

  Stupid sonofabitch! “Yes sir.” The words scraped in her throat like razor blades. Just get the fuck out of my face, were the words that came to her mind. .

  Being finished with his underling, he departed, and the two women breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I absolutely don’t know how you do it,” Pat remarked as she stood up so they could walk back to their desks. “I can’t stand being around that asshole. If I had to work for him…” She shook her head.

  “You’d work for him the same as I do,” Sheridan replied wearily. “And be glad for the job. Besides, I consider working for him to be research for a future book. ‘All the Ghouls I’ve Known’.”

  “Jesus, Sher,” Pat guffawed as they stepped into the hall and went their separate ways.

  *

  Sheridan heard the scratching as soon as she closed the apartment door. Part of her was annoyed; part relieved and glad.

  “You have more brass than a cheap spittoon,” she told him, slamming the window shut and re-latching it. “I should just let you sit out there and freeze your little balls off. Serve you right.”

  In response, Nick came over and began rubbing himself against her legs, his cold, wet fur momentarily chilling her. Looking up as if he hadn’t seen her in years, those dark blue eyes were filled with what she could only describe as delight.

  Needless to say, her heart melted. Bending down, she began stroking him under the chin with one hand and petting his back with the other. In a moment, he’d rolled on his back and she was rubbing his stomach. The same contentment appeared on his face that she’d seen that morning.

  “Come on,” she laughed after a few moments. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had my dinner and I’m starving.”

  Nick followed her into the kitchen, stopping to get himself a long drink of water from his bowl.

  “I have lamb chops,” she announced, opening the ‘fridge. “I don’t suppose there’s any possibility that you actually eat cat food, is there?”

/>   In response, Nick yawned disdainfully and walked back to the living room, planting himself in front of the fireplace again.

  “Sorry,” Sheridan apologized playfully, “but I still haven’t gotten any wood. But you’re right. A fire would be very nice and I’d like one too. Maybe this weekend.”

  For a moment, Nick gazed at her, the same thoughtful look he’d had when told there weren’t seconds on the chicken. Like he was pondering something.

  A moment later, the doorbell rang. Looking out the peephole, she recognized one of her neighbors from down the hall.

  “Good evening, Mr. Fielding,” Sheridan smiled at the elderly gentleman.

  “Good evening, Miss Phillips,” he replied with a smile of his own. He was a kindly looking old man with warm brown eyes and lots of snowy hair.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, it’s actually rather something that I might be able to do for you. With this damnable cold weather we’ve had, I purchased several bundles of firewood. However, this morning I was informed by my doctor that wood burning fires could be extremely detrimental, what with my respiratory problems.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “No need. One of the consequences of being old. However, since I can’t use the wood, I’d like you to have it.”

  “Oh, Mr. Fielding,” she breathed, “I couldn’t possibly do that!”

  “Why in Heavens not? You’re just about the only person I know in this building and you’ve always been very kind to me.”

  “Well then, at least let me pay you for it.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a gift.”

  “But…”

  “No buts,” he responded adamantly. “I’ve brought two bundles for tonight and I’ll have the superintendent bring the other four tomorrow.” With that, he reached down by the side of the door and produced two large bundles of wood, which he placed on the floor just inside. “Enjoy.”

  After closing the door, she lugged the bundles back into the living room and over to the fireplace. She set them down and glanced at Nick. He’d moved to the side and seemed to be waiting calmly for her to build a fire. As he stared back at her, she saw that there was something knowing, a deeply satisfied look in his dark eyes. Something, as she’d thought before…unnerving.

  The timer rang to announce the lamb chops needed to be turned under the broiler. The unexpected noise shattered the moment.

  She and Nick ate a quiet dinner. Since he had two of the four lamb chops, he passed on dessert, opting instead to stretch himself out to his fullest length in front of the fire. Sheridan finished the dinner clean up, poured herself another glass of white wine and settled on the rug, propped on her left elbow just behind Nick. Absently, she ran her fingertips slowly along his soft side and watched the flames.

  A quiet peace settled over them, as if lying here, basking in warm firelight with this wild animal was the most natural thing in the world. Yawning, she turned on her stomach, pillowing her head on crossed arms and closed her eyes.

  “God, my back hurts,” she complained softly. “I hate sitting at a computer for someone else.”

  Almost instantly, she felt weight settling in the dip at the base of her spine. A soft, furry weight. Moments later, a pair of velvet paws began gently massaging her back. Not that annoying “kneading” that cats do sometimes on your lap, claws extended. This was a delicate, deliberate movement. Gentle pressure in little circles. It was as heavenly as it was unexpected.

  Occasionally, she felt Nick shift his weight and change his massage position. The sensation was both relaxing and sensual. Something about the feel of him against her skin made her think of strong, tender hands massaging away not only her sore, tired muscles, but the cares of the day as well.

  Drowsing toward sleep, Sheridan remembered thinking that this was ridiculous. This was not a “massage.” It was the reflexive action of an animal. He hadn’t understood her complaint of back pain. He couldn’t have. It was a coincidence.

  She yawned.

  Just another coincidence, she repeated as sleep finally overtook her, Nick’s paws still on her skin.

  Chapter Three

  Sheridan shivered, glanced groggily at the clock, pulled the comforter up around her ears, and burrowed deeper into the pillow. It was only six-seventeen a.m. Still another thirteen minutes until the alarm would ring. Even though she was no longer really asleep, she had no desire to stir from her warm bed.

  Warm bed?

  Her eyes flew open, head emerging from under the covers and looking around, confused and surprised. Beside her, Nick was sleeping soundly, curled into a tight ball, his back almost touching hers.

  “How the hell did I get here?” she wondered aloud.

  She tried to think. They’d been lying on the floor in front of the fire, Nick on her back, massaging her with his soft paws. She’d gotten drowsy. Obviously she’d fallen asleep but couldn’t remember coming to bed.

  Being careful not to squish Nick, Sheridan rolled slowly onto her back, still wondering what had happened. But try as she might, there just wasn’t anything beyond the fire and the back rub.

  Nick’s face appeared in her field of view, his tongue lapping twice on her cheek.

  “Good morning to you, too,” she giggled, reaching her left hand out from under the covers and stroking him under the chin.

  His sleek head snuggled under her chin, tenderly licking her throat and neck. Goose bumps rose on her bare flesh that she couldn’t totally blame on the cold.

  After a few admittedly delightful moments, she pushed him gently away. “Okay, Nick, enough. I need a shower, not a bath.”

  He pulled back a little and they looked at each other.

  “You know,” she whispered, lightly petting the top of his head with her fingertips, “you really are quite attractive.”

  Blinking once, Nick cocked his head slightly, and she again had the distinct feeling that not only was he paying attention to her but on some level he actually understood what she was saying.

  “Those exotic eyes, jet-black fur, lean, muscular body. I bet you cut quite a swath with the ladies. I know if I was a lady cat…”

  The sentence remained unfinished as the alarm blared and she reached over to turn it off. As she did so, something on the floor caught her eye. Or more precisely, somethings.

  Scattered on the floor beside the bed were her clothes from the night before. Blouse, skirt, slip, bra, pantyhose, panties, shoes.

  “What the hell?” Sheridan turned her head and glanced back at Nick. But before she could think further, another thought came to her. Quickly raising the covers, she was shocked to see that she was naked.

  “I don’t believe this,” she shrieked. “What happened?”

  Nick put out a paw and patted her bare arm, almost as if he were trying to comfort her.

  “What the hell is going on? How did I get from the living room into bed? And what are my clothes doing on the floor? And why am I not wearing my nightgown?”

  A look she could only call distress showed in Nick’s dark eyes. Putting both his paws on her arm, he stretched up and licked her face again, one swift, tender pass of his tongue on her cheekbone.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him, relaxing a little and touching her lips to the tip of his nose. “And thanks for your concern.”

  In a twinkling, the distress disappeared and she felt Nick’s body relax too.

  “Come on, guy,” she told him firmly, throwing off the covers and putting her feet on the floor. “Time’s a-wastin’.”

  *

  “And the next thing I knew, it was morning and I was waking up in bed.” Sheridan took a sip of coffee. “It was weird.”

  “How so?” Pat asked, reaching for another donut.

  “Because I fell asleep in front of the fire. Fully clothed.” Glancing at the doorway, she lowered her voice and leaned toward her friend. “When I woke up in bed, I was naked.”

  “Still don’t see what your point is.” />
  “It’s winter, Pat. To save on the gas bill, I always turn the thermostat off at night and use my electric blanket. I wear my long flannel nightgown. Always,” emphasizing the last word.

  The other woman shrugged her shoulders as she nibbled on her chocolate donut.

  “And when I get ready for bed, I always take my clothes off and put them in the hamper in the bathroom. But this morning, they…shoes, underwear, everything…were on the floor by my bed. Don’t you think that’s just a little strange?”

  “I think you had a long, tiring day. You laid down in front of a warm fire with a full stomach and an extra glass of wine.” She grinned maliciously. “Add that to a relaxing ‘massage’ by a good lookin’ guy and the answer’s simple. You fell asleep. Sometime later you woke up just enough to drag yourself into your bedroom, get undressed and fall into bed.”

  “I don’t remember waking up,” Sheridan insisted, becoming slightly irritated that her best friend wasn’t taking her seriously. “And it wasn’t a ‘massage’ as you call it.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” Pat continued to tease. “The way you describe it, I was gonna ask if he makes house calls. I could use a good back rub myself.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “Oh come on, Sher,” her friend cajoled, “lighten up. You’re acting like you were abducted by aliens, for Christ’s sake. So you don’t remember getting up and going to bed. BFD. It happens.”

  “Not to me,” she retorted. “At least not after only a glass and a half of white wine.”

  “Okay, what the hell do you think happened? The cat carried you into your bedroom, undressed you and put you to bed?” Pat’s teasing voice had taken on a slightly mocking tone.

  Something icy blew lightly across Sheridan’s neck and made her shiver a little. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to discuss the incident or Nick.

  “Forget it,” she snapped, picked up her cup and stood.

  Pat looked up like she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry, Sher,” she told her sincerely. “I was just kidding.”