Page 35 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

For the cats to get along, right?

Well, not necessarily. Princess had an adversarial relationship with Muffintop. So under those conditions, things are actually going swimmingly. She gets bored by too much domestic tranquility.

Hmm. Did that apply to Princess’s owner too? I had a feeling trying to get a straight answer out of Kitty would be like trying to extricate Lucky’s murder mittens from my shredded TP roll.

Okay, that’s fine then. Cat experts don’t recommend it but I suppose we can continue keeping it loose, seeing how things go.

I’m sorry, did you or did you not say you no longer wanted to fake date me? Or are you recommending a separation of church and state, as it were?

I had no clue if honesty or keeping her in the dark with my intentions—which seemed to change hourly—was the right way to proceed. I was normally an honesty-is-the-best-policy sort of guy, even if it got me in hot water.

Except when it came to my father. In that case it was better to avoid too much interaction altogether.

But we were going to be interacting soon. So I needed to figure out my game plan and stick to it.

The last thing I wanted was to cause some kind of Hauser family blowout. We’d never had one of those—mainly because if it was big enough, TV cameras would likely be involved.

No, thanks.

I took a deep breath and dove into the deep end of the pool.

I still need your help. But I was thinking maybe it wouldn’t have to be fake. We could just…date. Like normal people.

Are you normal? Pretty sure I’m not.

I had to laugh.

I think I’m too normal, actually. I work too much and there’s not a lot of room for fun in my life. Or spontaneity.

I’d never known anyone like Kitty before. I never knew what she’d say or do next.

I liked it. Actually, I fuckinglovedit.

Kitty answered quickly once again.

I could use more fun too. But I kind of suck at dating.

Me, too.

I’ve never actually had a real date.

I blinked.

Ever?

No. I’ve had boyfriends. But they never really took me out. We just had a lot of sex.

Someday I’d get my jaw off the floor, especially since now I could hear the telltale scraping sounds that meant Lucky was attempting to turn on the faucet. Big bugger fancied himself a drink of cold water right from the source now and then.

If he was really feeling feisty, he’d take a soak while he was at it and then jump in the litter pan to track wet globs of litter all over my freshly vacuumed apartment.

Why did I love cats again?

But Kitty wasn’t quite finished.

Not good sex, mind you. Nothing like the screaming orgasms Rina has. I was happy with just a nice, quiet ripple. Truthfully, the ones from my bullet are far better than any I’ve had delivered by a man.

A moment later, she followed up.

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