Love Cats

Author's Note: This vignette is a submission in the 750 Word Project 2022. The challenge is to write a complete, very short story using 750 words: no less, no more. Given the constraints of the format, may you find 'Love Cats' an enjoyable, erotic quickie -- no less, no more. --Sandy.

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"Mom, don't you feel some songs have a power to possess you and change your life?

I was in no mood for a philosophical discussion with my teenage daughter.

"I feel like some music seeps into my soul like a magic spell, sweeping me into another world - don't you feel that's true for you mom?"

Kat wasn't going to drop the subject. "When I was your age, I used to think like that, but I don't anymore. I've got important things to do with my adult life, I don't believe in life-changing music."

Crushed by my dismissal, Kat lashed out, "You think I'm silly for having feelings. But you've become a shriveled old bag lady! You've forgotten what it's like to be happy and full of life!"

I gave my daughter 'the look'.

She pushed, "Didn't you ever feel anything when you listened to..."

"No!" was my rebuke. "Kat! Go sit in the car and wait for me there."

I was in a sour mood.

Kat had switched the radio from NPR and cranked up the volume. Kat was dancing in her seat, her tight jeans rocked across the leather seat, arms swaying to the music.

"Mom!" she sighed over the distinctive bass. "Listen to this guy. It's the best song ev-er! It makes me feel wild right here!" She patted her lap.

I swooned, recognizing Robert Smith's voice. That song swept me back to 1984. I was ten months out of high school and in the backseat of a Chevy Chevelle.

Robert Smith's seductive voice slithered from the dashboard that sultry night. I adored Robert, the way he slapped sloppy mascara around his eyes with violent abandon. He's the sexiest

rock-n-roller when singing The Cure's hit, Love Cats.

My boyfriend parked off the road, the radio up loud. His hand slipped around my shoulder pulling me to him. I bent his way willingly, excited by his attention. My heart raced as he seized my face, kissing me with a passion that vibrated my core.

I thought a girl should ask, 'where's this going?' But his tongue had coiled around my own like a swamp serpent. I let him suck me into his mouth. I didn't care where this was leading. I felt wild.

Overpowered by his firm grip behind my head, I melted under that warm feeling of surrender. His roaming paw unfastened my blouse, pushing off my strap. I lifted my shoulder, offering his fingers a path into my loosened bra. He slipped beneath, groping my tantalizing, tender orb, grazing my nipple, shooting electric blue sparks through my wet parts.

He swung around to my side, yanked open my door and threw me onto the backseat.

The door slammed, caging us in the back; the radio played Love Cats. Those lyrics were written for this magical moment:

He stalked me.

He kissed me.

He was on top of me.

I was tiger prey.

He pounced; tiger fangs shredded my blouse.

I fed my hungry tiger ripe nipples.

Like a caged tigress, I howled, scratching and screaming as he pawed me until my panties dangled from my left ankle. I bit and clawed his bare chest. Up my inner thigh he stalked, spreading me open, fingers wading into my jungle wetness, purring while he petted the pink tigress.

They were the perfect lyrics for the moment. I was going to let him take my virginity; 'oh you know I'd do anything for you...'

Throwing one leg over his shoulder, I arched my hips. He slipped between my legs. Hissing like love cats, we ground ferociously into one another. Filled full and deliciously warm, his sticky love cream oozed from my fluttering folds.

Hustling to fit into my wedding dress before I began to show, we married three months later.

***

"Mom? Why are you smiling like that? I thought you were pissed."

"I take back everything I just told you in there. I do believe music can change your life."

"Like how?"

"I'll tell you the story later. For now, let's get you to your first rock concert, Miss Kat Chevelle."