\u201cAnd look out for the cat,\u201d the Morgans say. It\u2019s the last item on their list, after telling me to help myself to snacks and that if Emmy wakes before they return, on no account to let her watch TV on the couch with me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know you had a cat.\u201d I try to hurry them into their waiting taxi. Having to babysit on Halloween is grim enough, without the couple treating me like I\u2019m nine, not nineteen.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t.\u201d Shari Morgan adjusts the cape of her Supergirl costume. \u201cHe lives next door but he treats this place like his own\u2026 If you see him, don\u2019t let him into the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t, I promise. Now go.\u201d At last I\u2019m able to close the door behind them. Wandering through to the kitchen, I think about firing off a text to Deb or Mindy, telling them how lame this all is, but they\u2019ll be at the party now, just like I should be.<\/p>\n
I pour myself a glass of milk. Through the screen door, I think I see a sinuous black shape weaving its way up the path. Remembering the Morgans\u2019 warning, I prepare to shoo the cat away. A noise over the baby monitor distracts me for a moment. When I turn back, if I didn\u2019t know better I\u2019d swear I could see the shape on the doorstep changing, growing larger\u2026 But that\u2019s crazy. It\u2019s nothing but a trick of the light. Even so, I\u2019m startled when the knock at the door comes.<\/p>\n
It\u2019ll be trick or treaters,<\/em> I tell myself, trying to recall where Shari Morgan said she\u2019d left a bowl of candy for just such an occurrence.<\/p>\n \u201cHappy Halloween. May I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n The visitor is tall, with long black hair tied in a ponytail and the greenest eyes I\u2019ve ever seen. He might be gorgeous, but caution guides me to ask, \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTheo. I\u2019m a neighbor. And you are\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrie. Emergency babysitter. Did you see a cat out there?\u201d<\/p>\n He shakes his head. \u201cNo one here but me.\u201d He smiles, slow and lazy, and something in me comes unglued. \u201cWanna hang out?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure.\u201d None of the Morgans\u2019 many rules said anything about not spending time with a very cute neighbor. \u201cCan I get you anything to drink?\u201d<\/p>\n I expect him to ask for a beer. Instead, he says, \u201cThat milk looks good.\u201d He gulps it straight from the carton, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. \u201cWant to dance?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not? When the cat\u2019s away, right?\u201d<\/p>\n Somehow, I find myself in the living room, pulled tight to Theo\u2019s broad chest. Theo\u2019s acting like he has the run of the place but I\u2019m sure the Morgans won\u2019t mind. They obviously know him, after all.<\/p>\n For a big man, he\u2019s so light on his feet. He twirls me around till I\u2019m dizzy and breathless. When he puts his lips to mine for the first time, I taste milk and something that\u2019s uniquely him. His kisses are sweet, intoxicating, and I don\u2019t object as he eases the straps of my dress from my shoulders. In the movies, bad things happen to babysitters on Halloween, but I feel safe in Theo\u2019s arms. Safe, and a little bit naughty.<\/p>\n His cock rubs against me, hard in his jeans, and I reach down to unzip him. When I wrap my fingers around that thick, pulsing length, he purrs with delight. \u201cHey, slow down\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d I stroke him up and down, relishing the feel of him in my hand.<\/p>\n Theo pulls my dress down further so he can knead my bare breasts. I don\u2019t normally let a guy move so fast, but tonight I\u2019m wild, wanton, my blood roused by the witchy magic of Halloween. He sucks my nipple, and desire zings down to my pussy.<\/p>\n We shed our clothes, and Theo urges me down onto all fours. I hear foil tearing, and I don\u2019t look need to look over my shoulder to know he\u2019s fitting a condom. He pushes home, stretching me with his big dick. This is how animals fuck<\/em>, I catch myself thinking as his balls slap against my ass cheeks, and it feels so right<\/em>. Heat rises between us, and we move in an ever-quickening rhythm.<\/p>\n In the moment before he comes he bites the nape of my neck, like he\u2019s claiming me. It sets off my orgasm, and I dissolve around him.<\/p>\n He gathers me to him, and I rest my head on his dark mat of chest fur, sated and oh so pleased with myself. I don\u2019t intend to sleep, but I begin to drift, and when I open my eyes again, Theo\u2019s gone, leaving only a faint ache between my legs to remind me he was ever here.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n * * *<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Morgans arrive home half an hour later.<\/p>\n \u201cI hope you weren\u2019t too bored,\u201d Shari says, and I shake my head, though I\u2019ve no intention of telling her how I passed the time. Her voice takes on an exasperated tone. \u201cOh, Theo, what are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n I glance round, wondering if the tall, dark and friendly neighborhood hunk has come back to apologize for running out on me, and freeze. Standing on the mat, blinking his green eyes and licking his lips, is a sleek black cat.<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Elizabeth Coldwell is the author of numerous short stories and two full-length novels, ‘Calendar Girl’ and ‘Playing The Field’. Her stories have appeared in the best-selling ‘Best Women’s Erotica’ series and Black Lace’s popular ‘Wicked Words’ collections. Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, she now contributes a spicy monthly column, ‘The Cougar Chronicles’, to its pages. When she is not busy writing, she is an avid supporter of Rotherham United Football Club and can be regularly found on the terraces at weekends, cheering her boys to victory (hopefully!).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cAnd look out for the cat,\u201d the Morgans say. It\u2019s the last item on their list, after telling me to help myself to snacks and that if Emmy wakes before they return, on no account to let her watch TV on the couch with me. \u201cI didn\u2019t know you had a cat.\u201d I try to … Continue reading Microfiction: Cat Call by Elizabeth Coldwell<\/span>