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Mae slumped sleepily against her reptilian girlfriend with a soft yawn. It was eleven forty-five at night. The pair were watching late night reruns of Garbo and Malloy in between nibbling tortilla chips, cooped up in Bea’s postage-stamp living room. Mr. Santello had retired to bed an entire two hours earlier, and Mae couldn’t help but notice that the atmosphere became considerably less frosty afterward. As she snuggled up to her girlfriend, she quietly relished in the way Bea’s nostrils flared when she laughed, and how her body shook for a second when a laugh overtook her. Mae, unhappily, couldn’t find it in her to laugh along with the programme too.
Maybe it’s just because you don’t get the humour, Mae thought to herself. Garbo and Malloy was the type of show her father watched, for one — the type that Bea liked to watch ‘ironically’. But… no, she knew why the show hadn’t captured her attention. A worm of worry had coiled itself up in the deepest pit of her stomach, and was slithering around urgently, continually pawing for her attention whenever she tried to immerse herself in the show. As the advertisement breaks eased in, Mae felt like she couldn’t hold back for much longer.
“Does your dad like me?”
In an attempt to seem casual, Mae had stayed firmly nestled to her girlfriend — even stopping to yawn into Bea’s cool, scaled shoulder. The yawn hid her wince when she realised that her voice had shot out, much too short and sharp and… not casual at all. She hoped with every cell in her body that Bea didn’t pick up on her nerves.
Bea’s eyes widened. “Mm?” She murmured, looking down at the cat.
“I said, does your dad like me?”
Yes, Bea thought she’d heard that. The reptile paused, flustered, words hanging in the air. “Uh, sure he does, Mae.” She softly offered, deciding to swerve around the truth. “Why wouldn’t he? Why does it matter?”
“He doesn’t seem to hang around much.” Mae pointed out nervously, now settling for staring at her lap and nervously batting her paws at one another.
“Mae…” Bea almost let out a snort of laughter, but willed herself to control her voice and sighed instead. “I mean… that’s no big deal. He’d only be watching us kissing, or something, and who wants to see that?” She grinned toothily.
“We’re not kissing right now.”
Smart arse Mae Borowski… as ever.
Bea leaned in and caught Mae’s mouth in a quick kiss that was all warmth and teeth in one. Mae relaxed instantly — not that she realised she was tense in the first place — and could feel Bea smiling on her lips. The cat slowly smiled too, before they pulled apart.
“There.” Bea said, satisfaction in her voice. She settled back into the dip on the sofa, her arm cocooning Mae once more. “But, really. It’s nothing personal.” Bea assured. “He just knows he should let us be lovey once in a while.”
“Lovey.” Mae spluttered, actually spluttered. She could hardly believe a word like lovey had come out of Bea’s - of all people — mouth.
“That was ironic.” Bea sighed defensively.
Bull. Shit.
Mae smirked, her expression smug. “Aww. Does Beatwiss wuuuuuv her Maeday?” She cooed, her voice dripping with sugary-sweet sarcasm. She was lisping a little as she spoke.
“No. No, I don’t. Oh no. Never.”
Bea’s voice was slow, monotone, and deliciously sarcastic. Which only served to enthuse Mae even more. The feline burst into gentle peals of laughter as she continued to mock the crocodile, shaking a little.
Finally, though, she began to lose fire and sank back against the crocodile with one lone giggle. Bea couldn’t hide her smile either, and put one scaly arm around Mae as Garbo and Malloy started back up.
As Bea got immersed into the talk show with Mae, she absent-mindedly started to swirl soft shapes into Mae’s fur with the tip of her claw. Small sharp stars, wide arching spirals, spindly hearts.
It felt good. Mae relaxed totally, slumping against the crocodile and submitting entirely to her gentle, blissful touch. Her eyelids gently closed, relishing in the sensation of quiet bliss that overtook her.
Bea was too distracted to realise at first, but then… but then something started vibrating. What the hell?
She frowned, squirmed deeper into the sofa, glanced around side to side. “Hey, Mae. Um, is that your phone, or something?”
“Mmmm?” Mae slowly came back to reality, feeling a small pang of unhappiness hit her as her blissed-out state was sharply and rudely interrupted. “My phone? No. I didn’t bring it.” She explained quietly.
“Okay.” Bea nodded, shrugged it off. The vibrating had stopped, anyhow. The reptile shook her head, turned back to Garbo and Malloy with her arm still resting around Mae. She slowly began to trace gentle shapes into Mae’s fur again. Bubbles this time, gently looping bubbles and clouds that danced across Mae’s skin slowly. Her touch was etched onto Mae’s skin and lingered there for a long time, long after Bea had moved onto tracing new shapes.
Then the vibrating began again. Bea frowned, puzzled, and flinched back instinctively. “What the hell…?” She whispered to herself. Mae didn’t seem to notice that Bea had stopped this time; continuing to sit on the couch, sank back in pure happiness.
Hesitating, Bea leaned in closer to her feline girlfriend and listened. Then, suddenly, it all became clear. A grin spread across Bea’s features — a big, toothy, shit-eating grin of amazement.
Oh, that was just fucking amazing. Mae was… Mae… she was…!
“It’s you!” Bea spluttered finally, unable to hold back on laughing.
This dragged Mae away from her blissful quiet once more, and the feline stared down her nose at Bea, puzzled. “Me… Me, what?!” She said, puzzled.
“I didn’t think you could even do that.” Bea continued, her voice hushed and awed. She didn’t seem to hear Mae - and if she did, she didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, being much too preoccupied with her new, hours-of-amusement nugget of information.
“Do what?!” Mae repeated with a frown, bewildered and unintentionally defensive. She was tense, her fur seemed on edge.
“You’re purring!” Bea said with a grin on her face.
Mae’s face flooded red with embarrassment at once. Heat bloomed in the deepest pits of her cheeks and prickled up every strand of her fur. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” She stammered nervously, wringing her paws with shame.
Bea giggled, but her amusement died down once she realised how embarrassed Mae was about the whole thing. Her face fell. “Mae, it’s cute.” She insisted with a nod, her voice firm with seriousness. She broke out into a soft smile. “It’s cute.” She emphasised the word. “I like it.”
It was quiet for what felt like a long time (likely only a minute, or two at most) — but not wanting to push Mae into an answer, Bea slowly let her attention be captured by the telly once more. Her feline girlfriend sat and hesitated before settling back in her rightful position — nestled into Bea’s side.
“You… do?” Mae said, at long last. She hated how her voice came out — suddenly so quiet and unsure of herself. She felt Bea squeeze her for a moment and sighed, feeling a rush of calm wash over her chest. There were gentle rumbles deep within her, from somewhere lower than her belly, the beginning of a purr.
“I do.”
The statement was punchy and matter-of-fact.
“Damn cat instincts.” Mae muttered after a moment.
(She was grinning.)
“I didn’t realise you could purr. Is there anything else… catty… you do?” Bea asked curiously, squinting.
“Yeah, I yowl on the backyard wall at 3am when everyone’s trying to sleep.” Mae said sarcastically.
“Oh, I hate that!” Bea said, nodding. “I swear the Castanero’s cat next door yowls just as I start to sleep.”
And as Mae launched into an overenthusiastic cat rant, Bea was happy to settle back and listen with a smile on her face. Though, she couldn’t help but make a mental note:
Tease Mae with laser pointer at next available opportunity. Now that was something she HAD to see.