Black Cat (Part I) - Sex Stories

Black Cat (Part I)

... herself in your den and you won’t even know she’s there.”

“Well, my ‘den’ is also my home office and my home cinema, so if she tries to lock herself in there she will have to fight me first.”

Another smile from Cynthia. “Better hope you don’t have to fight her. She’s one stubborn lady…”

“Hahaha, we’ll see about that. But really, it’s no problem. I have nothing planned for this weekend. I’ll just stay in, do some paperwork. If she wants we can do stuff like go out for ice cream or pizza or maybe a movie, I dunno”.

“As long as you have enough water, she doesn’t need much else”

“Wait, what? Water?”

“Yes, water. Don’t ask me why, but this little package can down like a gallon a day. I don’t know where she puts it. I have to discuss for half an hour to make her eat something other than rice crackers - but I never have to ask twice if she wants something to drink.”

“OK, good to know. I hope I’ll have enough water on tap…”

“Thank you again, Dan, thank you”. For the first time since we knew each other, Cynthia hugged me. I’m 6’4’’ and her head barely reaches up to my chest, but she still held me for a good 10 seconds and then scuttled down, giving me a happy look back over her shoulder as she went down the stairs.

Chapter 2: Friday Late Afternoon - Meeting Cat

I work from home on most days. I’m an SAP consultant and working remotely, be it logging in to a client’s SAP system and configuring or fixing stuff or be it meetings with clients, I did all of it ...

... from what Cynthia had called my “den”. My apartment occupies the two top floors of the house. First the main floor with a big living room, spacious open kitchen, and dining area, all in one large room. Apart from that, just a small hallway and a guest toilet. Upstairs was my home office/cinema, my bedroom, and the bathroom.

When I bought the house, I had been with what I thought back then was the love of my life, Jenn. Our plan was to convert the upstairs floor into several smaller rooms, one or two rooms for what would be our kids, and maybe an additional guest room. I had met Jenn when I had just turned 40 and she was 32. We had three good years. Like really good years. Then one year of house hunting and planning renovations - and during those hectic and stressful times I hadn’t even noticed that we had already started to drift apart. I signed the papers, I had bought a house, we moved in and three weeks later I found a note on the kitchen table. A fucking note. On the fucking expensive kitchen table Jenn had chosen.

No rooms for kids. No guest room. But a big-ass home cinema for me and the biggest desk with the most expensive ergonomic chair I could find. Midlife crisis here I come.

That was four years ago. Four years also happened to be the longest dry spell I had in my life (of course not counting the first 16 years which were technically a dry spell but sure didn’t feel like one). For the first year after Jenn left, I basically became a hermit and spent hours ...