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He first saw her walking along the beach. She was beautiful, lithe, with billowing blonde
hair and long legs. He ran to catch up and fell into step with her. She looked at him
and smiled. He detected the twinkle in her eyes. They walked, without speaking.
Words were not necessary. Chemistry coursed between them.
He followed her home that first day and thus began a relationship that was nigh
impossible to bring to an end. Time after time, he attempted to follow the path he’d
previously been traveling before he laid eyes on her beauty. But he couldn’t stay away.
She drove him mad with her enticements, her allure. She baited him and reeled him in.
He had never once been able to resist her.
Oh, he had tried. He ignored her. He avoided her apartment. He went out with others.
He slumbered when he thought she’d be awake, and went out and about while she
slept. Sometimes he partied till dawn, trying to forget about her. He avoided their usual
haunts and ate and drank in new and different places, hoping she would not find him.
Yet, once again, he found himself here, in her living room. “Why can’t I break loose
from her?” He paced, he perspired, almost panting. “I’ve got to get out of here. I won’t
be trapped again. I’ve got to break free of her manipulation.”
“Come here, sweetie.” Macy coaxed, patting the sofa at her side. Her eyes beckoned
as she then crooked her finger and motioned him to come sit.
His heart accelerated. “Where is my will power? My self-discipline?” he pleaded with
his soul.
“Come on, baby,” she cajoled. “Right here beside me.” Again she patted the sofa.
Peter took one step toward Macy and stopped. He looked behind him to the door and
calculated the way of escape. Panic gripped him. He wanted to stay. He wanted
to leave. Confusion reigned. He looked at her again and felt the familiar abduction of
his being, helpless against the force that controlled him when in her presence. He
reluctantly walked to her.
She reached out her long, graceful arms and pulled him to her side. “That’s more like
it, my love.” She ran her hands through his walnut colored hair. Her fingers seductively
caressed his ears, his nose.
Ahh. He rejoiced at her touch. He snuggled nearer and allowed his tongue to graze
her cheek, nibbling ever so tenderly, his eyes never straying from hers. He breathed
deeply and relished the sweet fragrance about her.
“You lover boy, you,” she giggled. She made sweet clicking noises on his head, his
cheek. She tickled him under the chin. She rubbed his back
Peter paused. ‘Why can’t I stay away? I always come back. I can’t seem to help
myself.” His one last lucid thought, before yielding to temptation, faded away, along
with all resolve. Peter surrendered, knowing he would hate himself later for his
weakness. He caressed her face with his own. He nestled closer, giving up freedom.
Sacrificing his independence, his solitude. Sinking to the depths of base instincts. He
sighed.
“Would you like a special treat, Peter?” she crooned.
He looked into her brown, liquid eyes. Was she serious? Did she really mean it? His
eyes reflected deep desire, expectancy. Would she comprehend the magnitude of his
longing, yes, even the yearning he had for the savory delicacy that only she could give
him?
She began to move. Yes! She understood his passion like no other woman. Every
nerve constricted. Hope soared. Drool began to fill his mouth, threatening to rain
down. His craving reached a fever pitch. He stood ready to pounce on his prey.
Macy leaned forward, stretched out her hand to the coffee table and picked up the
package of kitty treats.
“Meow!” He purred.
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