Cat Scratch Fever Page 9

  Mel stopped fighting as soon as their lips touched her. The giggling, though, went on for a while. Apparently, they’d got her to a point where she couldn’t stop, even as they suckled at her breasts and she arched against them, silently begging for more.

  The giggling stopped when José opened her legs and poured champagne so it ran from her blue-black pubic curls and down, its sheen mingling with the slickness on her dark lips. (He’d put her own shirt under her bottom beforehand, not that the sheets could be saved.)

  He licked. ‘Champagne and oysters!’ he said happily, then buried his face between Mel’s thighs and settled down, reaching up to play with her nipples at the same time.

  Not wanting to distract from what looked like a damn fine situation for both of them, Felicia settled back to watch, tucking her hand between her legs and lazily stroking her clit, not ready to come, but enjoying the spirals of sensation that spread through her.

  Mel went still, as if the feel of José’s tongue had shocked the giggle-fit out of her. Her body began to tremble. Her belly moved like a Middle Eastern dancer’s Felicia had seen once, a sea of ripples. It wasn’t until he slipped two fingers inside her, though, that she cried out.

  She was still trembling from the orgasm when José changed position to lie over her, teasing her slit with the head of his cock. ‘Please,’ Felicia heard her beg, her voice husky and urgent.

  If she’d been José, Felicia didn’t think she could have done what he did: seemingly ignoring that plea and continuing to rub himself against Mel’s slickness without entering her.

  Listening to her become more and more incoherent, watching her writhe against him, trying to slip his cock inside her, must have been gratifying. Felicia appreciated that kind of torment herself, both giving it and getting it. But Mel looked so hot – flushed, damp from the champagne bath, her midnight hair sticking up all around her – that, if Felicia had a penis, she was pretty sure it would have been doing all the thinking.

  Then again, the way Mel shuddered and clutched at him when he finally did enter her probably made it all worthwhile.

  They moved together, kissing each other, Mel’s legs around his hips. Not a wild-animal fuck, but slow and sensual and affectionate.

  And really lovely to watch, too.

  Watching the show, Felicia realised – quite to her astonishment – that, while her body ached with arousal, she wasn’t burning to be in Mel’s position. Maybe she was more of a voyeur than she’d ever realised, but watching her friends’ pleasure in each other was satisfying in its own right. Not the same as actually being the one doing the screaming, but damn hot anyway.

  She stroked at herself, trying to match her rhythm to the leisurely one of the lovers she watched. At that moment José seemed to remember she was there. He whispered something in Mel’s ear, nuzzling as he did, and she replied, though Felicia could not hear her.

  With practised grace, the pair rolled over, only scrambling a little to stay joined. Mel remained pressed against José for a little while, her hips working against him, her mouth pressed to his. Then she sat up, arching back and reaching behind herself to support her weight on José’s thighs. ‘Join us?’ she asked Felicia. Her tone was as calm and polite as if she’d asked Felicia to sit at their table in a café, but her face was red, her eyes glazed; the detachment was probably from the effort to talk at all.

  Felicia scooted forwards, not quite sure of the best way to join in. She could lick where they were joined, play with José’s balls…

  ‘Kneel over me,’ he murmured. ‘Sit on my face. I want to make you both come for me.’

  Now that was an offer a woman couldn’t refuse. (Well, she supposed some women could, but those women weren’t likely to find themselves in a position to get such an offer anyway.) She climbed aboard.

  José’s tongue and lips seared. Little stabs of heavenly fire, radiating from her clit to fill her whole body. She was so sensitive she could feel his beard stubble against her. It was just on the right side of the pleasure/pain line, almost sandpaper, but not quite.

  And still his tongue worked, his lips applied gentle pressure. After the long arousal, it was almost too much to bear. Felicia’s head spun. She slumped forwards, suddenly lacking the co-ordination to hold herself up. Falling, but Mel caught her, and she toppled into a kiss. Once again, she felt a sense of astonishment at how soft Mel’s lips were, even when her kiss was mindlessly fierce.

  She wanted to touch them both, to stroke and caress, but she couldn’t bear to let go of the sweet armful she held. Mel was breathing raggedly as she rode José. Her kiss grew more and more urgent.

  Felicia understood completely. Her own body was tightening, contracting around its centre. It was all about José’s tongue working on her and Mel’s tongue in her mouth, about the triangle of bodies and lust they formed. She managed to slip one hand to Mel’s breast, capturing a bobbing nipple.

  Then her world exploded and it was all she could do not to disengage from Mel’s mouth and scream, let alone do anything useful. José didn’t stop, though. He slowed down long enough for her to catch her breath, then kept going.

  She thought the first orgasm had been powerful, but the second dwarfed it. This time she really did slump forwards, done. When José attempted to pull her back to his mouth, she laughed, choked out, ‘Too sensitive,’ and squirmed away to watch.

  Now he put his hands on Mel’s hips and began to guide her movements as if she weighed no more than a doll. She seemed to like that. She leant forwards, grinding herself against him. He urged her up and down faster, bending his knees for leverage and thrusting into her from below.

  They didn’t quite come together, from what Felicia could tell. But, when Mel threw her head back and opened her mouth in a silent roar, José was not far behind her.

  Afterwards, they made a puppy pile in the ruined bed – José in the middle, a woman snuggled on either side – and passed the remains of the bubbly back and forth. Most of it ended up in the women, since José was technically on call.

  It was about 1 a.m. when they finally bid her a sleepy good night. ‘You could stay,’ she said, not sure if she really meant it, or if it would be comfortable to have three in her bed even if she did.

  ‘We need to get home,’ Mel said. ‘My dog…’

  Felicia nodded. ‘Phu Dog will be going crazy by now.’ Phu Dog, half golden retriever and half corgi, was a smart if oddly proportioned beast who loved everyone. Felicia was far more of a cat person, but she approved of him.

  After they headed out, Felicia slumped down on the disaster of a bed, suddenly exhausted and a little melancholy. Physically, she was sated. Her limbs felt soft and languid, and she had a pleasant champagne buzz. Absolutely no complaints on that end. It had been a lovely evening.

  But she was jealous of José and Mel heading out hand in hand, obviously planning on spending the rest of the night curled up together. Not because she wanted José – or Mel, for that matter – for herself. But because she was alone now. And lonely.

  8

  ‘It’s so handy that you have a walk-in fridge!’ Debbie enthused in Felicia’s general direction as they exited the Sanctuary’s little on-site café. It was hard to imagine Debbie saying anything non-enthusiastically, or at least non-bouncily and non-breathily. Fascinating.

  ‘We’ll have to rearrange some of the meat a little to give you more space,’ Felicia said. ‘But I think it’ll work.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Debbie said. ‘And don’t put the poor kitties out for me – make sure their dinners are still easily available, too.’

  Felicia thought fondly of Pancho Villa the panther and how he expressed his concern about dinner (a nice bloody hunk of raw meat) not arriving expediently enough: with a roar that rattled your back teeth. ‘Poor kitty’ indeed.

  The Sanctuary had no banquet facilities, but they did have a snack café on site. The kitchen was tiny, mostly used for making coffee and tea; sandwiches, salads, cakes and cookies were delivered each mor
ning and kept in the immense refrigerator on the side away from the cats’ meals. However, Debbie assured her that she could set up a temporary cook station with portable stoves and chafing dishes in the café. Since the weather would be warm, an assortment of cold dishes would work perfectly. Nothing like fresh shrimp with a spicy vodka-laced cocktail sauce to make people want to give money, and give it generously.

  ‘So we’ll be putting the tents over here?’ Debbie had wandered into the grassy area between the main part of the Sanctuary and the lion house. ‘Seems flat enough. Don’t want anybody twisting an ankle.’

  Well, if Debbie could totter around the area in those spike heels and not break her leg, everyone else would be fine. The area was bordered by a cemented area dotted with tables and benches, so if they had any guests in wheelchairs, they could be seated at a table on that side and still be part of the fundraiser.

  Thank goodness the grass was doing as well as it was. For weeks now, Alan and his security staff had had an added duty: making sure the sprinklers were on. They were supposed to come on at dusk after the Sanctuary closed and then again at dawn, but they’d intermittently stopped working, and nobody could figure out why. They’d even had the sprinkler company out three times, but the technician swore up and down that there was nothing wrong with the timers or the lines.

  And here in the desert, watering was crucial if they were going to have anything more than a barren patch of crunchy brown weeds.

  At least they didn’t have to worry about rain!

  ‘Two pavilions,’ Felicia confirmed. ‘One for mingling and the silent auction display. And the bar – people always bid more when the bar’s handy. The other one’ll be for the tables and chairs for dinner.’

  The board of directors had debated long and hard about whether to hold the fundraiser at a ritzy hotel or at the Sanctuary itself. A ritzy hotel had many advantages, but in the end Noelle the Amur leopard had made the decision for them with her pregnancy. Making a private viewing of the new cubs part of the fundraiser would ramp up the interest in attendance. Baby cats did that to people. They also warmed even the hardest of hearts, which in turn loosened even the tightest grips on wallets.

  But, even with the cubs sparking interest, attendance was still looking low. Far better than it had been – for a while she’d been wondering if they’d make any money at all – but they were still about 75 guests short of sold out. Felicia made a mental note to call the board members again about pushing tickets and seeing if she could get the local TV station to run footage of the cubs.

  ‘Wait staff,’ Debbie said, and Felicia poised the stylus over her Palm Pilot. ‘Is there a local temp agency we can work with? I’m used to hiring folks in LA, but we’d have to pay extra for them to drive all the way out here.’

  ‘I’ll look into that.’ Felicia made a note.

  ‘Awesome!’ The caterer paused and gazed through fashionably large sunglasses across the lawn at a buff young man carrying a rake and green plastic trash bin. His T-shirt stretched to the maximum across his muscled chest and impressive biceps, all managing to enhance a lower half that was encased in tight jeans. His hair, spikily short and dark beneath with a frosting of bleach, was like a beacon in the sun.

  ‘You know,’ Debbie said thoughtfully, ‘he would look so right in a little white jacket and black bow tie. Do you suppose he has any friends?’

  Felicia laughed. ‘I can’t imagine you could convince Lance to wear a monkey suit, but you could always try.’ The nineteen-year-old volunteer came from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks, and his idea of dressing up was wearing freshly laundered jeans and a black T-shirt as opposed to a white one.

  ‘Hmm,’ Debbie said, for a moment sounding vague. Then she snapped back into her usual fast-forward self. ‘You’re dealing with the tables and chairs, right?’

  ‘Tents, tables, chairs, decorations and any display features,’ Felicia confirmed.

  ‘I’ll handle dishes and silverware, but we need to find a catering supply company for table linens, serving dishes, chafing dishes, that sort of thing,’ Debbie added. ‘I’ll send you a list of exactly what I’ll need.’

  Felicia made another note. Debbie’s bubbly efficiency was like a shot in the arm. She wished she could bottle the caterer’s energy; goodness knows she needed some extra vigour this morning.

  She’d tossed and turned last night, her mind filled with the memory of Gabe in a towel…and fantasies of him out of it. A 3 a.m. session with Mr Twitchy hadn’t been ideal, but it had at least allowed her to get some sleep.

  Gabe was working with José today, reviewing the vet’s files. Felicia knew the Sanctuary had a fantastic record in that respect – few illnesses, rare injuries. The information about Magnolia’s injured paw would be in the log, but it was one of very few, and thankfully it was also relatively minor.

  Still, she couldn’t help but worry.

  Not only that, but she was constantly aware that he was on site, that he was near by. The knowledge hovered at the back of her brain, had her body on edge, kept her thinking she saw him out of the corner of her eye and then feeling disappointed when she was wrong.

  He’d said ‘Good morning’ to her as he’d passed by her office that morning, but that had been it. She hadn’t been able to read the expression in his eyes. Was he uncomfortable about their encounter the other night? Or, now that the moment had passed, had he lost interest?

  She didn’t want his interest. She wanted him to give the Sanctuary a glowing report and then get the hell out of there. At the same time, she craved his interest…and more.

  ‘I need a cold drink, how about you?’ she asked Debbie.

  ‘Omigod yes! I’m just wilting.’ Debbie fanned herself.

  Felicia didn’t see a hint of wilting, but she refrained from saying so. Debbie offered to grab the sodas, and Felicia took the opportunity to duck back into her office and check email and phone messages.

  Ten minutes later, they stood outside in the shade of the building, chatting easily about plans for the fundraiser. Felicia dipped her hand in her cup and pressed bits of ice against the back of her neck, shivering at the contrast of hot and cold.

  As Lance came out from the back side of the cheetah enclosure and headed across the edge of the lawn towards the fishing cats’ habitat, Debbie dropped a piece of ice down her ample cleavage and squealed. Lance did a perfect double-take. His steps slowed and his head swivelled as he walked, never taking his eyes off Debbie. He was so blatantly smitten that Felicia giggled.

  Debbie flipped her blonde mane back and waggled her fingers at Lance. He stopped dead in his tracks. Across the green, his single utterance was loud and clear. ‘Shit!’

  ‘Language, Lance,’ Felicia called.

  ‘Crap!’

  ‘We’ve talked about appropriate language –’ Felicia tried again, amazed at his sudden descent into crudeness after weeks of being successfully polite. Cleaning up his language, both grammar and colourful euphemisms, was part of the deal if he was to stay as a volunteer, and he’d been working hard at it.

  He had dropped the bucket and rake, and now gestured helplessly, pointing at the ground. ‘Well, what do you want me to call it?!’

  And that’s when the slight breeze shifted towards her. Felicia felt the bile rise in her throat.

  ‘Is it just me, or is he sinking into the ground?’ Debbie asked as Felicia took off towards him. The caterer’s final words trailed after her: ‘Whew, something’s kind of stinky. Time to clean those cages, huh?’

  * * *

  ‘Preliminary report from John is that the main sewer pipe burst,’ Katherine said, referring to the Sanctuary’s handyman. ‘We’ve got City Sanitation on their way.’

  The emergency conference in the teaching room, the only place big enough for the small staff, was attended by her, Felicia, Alan, Lance, José…and Gabe.

  Dammit. Why did he have to be here to witness this?

  ‘Any idea why it happened?’ Gabe asked.

&nb
sp; Felicia stared at the poster on the wall showing a cross-section of a cat’s paw and how claws retracted. Anything to ignore the fact that they were sitting so close around the crowded child-sized round table that their thighs were an inch apart. She swore she could feel the heat from his leg against hers.

  ‘John’s still looking into that,’ Katherine said. ‘The main thing is, of course, that we’ve had to close for the rest of the day, and may be closed for longer, depending on how long this takes to fix. We’ll have to figure out some alternative methods of waste disposal, at least until the city gives us their evaluation.’

  ‘What about the lawn?’ Felicia asked, thinking of the fundraiser.

  ‘Once we’ve got the leak fixed, it shouldn’t be too hard to re-sod that area,’ Lance said. His sneakers and socks were in the Sanctuary’s on-its-last-legs washing machine. ‘The grass’ll probably grow mega-green on that corner,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘We’ll tell kids it’s a fairy ring.’ Felicia felt like she was randomly grasping at any sort of positive idea she could find, no matter how stupid. She was surprised when Gabe said, ‘Especially if mushrooms grow, too.’

  ‘Well,’ Katherine said, clapping her hands once together lightly to signal the end of the meeting, ‘we’ll just take it one step at a time. Thank you all for the emergency meeting. Let’s get out there and keep working at whatever we need to. When we have a report from the city, I’ll let you all know.’

  Felicia watched her boss trot out of the teaching room, spine erect. She hadn’t seen Katherine that confident and spry in days, although she wondered if Katherine’s method of stress relief had involved working out, because she was walking a little funny.

  She slid her chair out from under the table at the same time that Gabe did, and now their legs did brush together. They both jumped apart, but not before a spark of arousal skittered through her, up her thigh and lodged in her groin.