The Cat, The Rat, and The Mouse

The Cat, the Rat, and the Mouse



Smiling, Minnie Adams exited the salon and strolled down the sidewalk, peering into the shop windows on the off chance something caught her eye. Another Saturday—one that was proving to be uneventful as expected.  It wasn’t that she was unhappy, but she wouldn’t hate being happier.  If only something would happen  . . .

Then she saw it.  The clouds parted, and a ray of divine sunshine showcased a display window.  And there, in God’s spotlight, danced the most darling dress she’d seen in a very long time—perhaps ever seen.  It was that perfect wine color; the one that made her honey-colored skin and hair glow, and gave her deep blue eyes a mysterious violet tint. 

She knew before entering the store, it was too expensive. She knew she had nowhere to wear it; absolutely no reason to buy it.  She didn’t care.  She also knew that if it looked even half as good on her, as it did on that mannequin, she would buy it.  And, she would walk out of the story wearing it—no matter how many times her great-grandmother spun around in her grave.

It was more expensive than she imagined, but it looked even better on her than the display dummy.  So, half an hour later, she bounced out of the shop wearing it and a strappy pair of high-heeled sandals that showed off the pearly pink polish on her newly manicured toes.  She felt beyond wonderful, and she knew she looked terrific.  The tide had turned, and things were looking up.

A man, hurrying in the opposite direction, bumped into her, muttered something, and then continued on, without ever looking up to notice how stunning she was.  Frowning, she turned to watch him go and saw a tiny slip of paper flutter to the pavement.  She swooped down and scooped it up—half hoping, with a flash of pique, that it was some important phone number that was now lost to him forever.  But, it was only the fortune from a Chinese fortune cookie.

She read it prophecy, ‘The cat beats the rat, but the mouse gets the cheese.’, and stifled a giggle.  Another line below read, ‘An opportunity lost, is gone forever.’  Whatever was that suppose to mean?  Oh well, nothing was going to bring her down from her fashion high.  In fact, she was going to continue to pamper herself.

She entered the local ice cream parlor, waited in line until it was her turn, and ordered a large waffle-cone.  She spied the label on the tub, and then examined the spotty-faced youth scooping up the yummy green concoction with a critical eye.  In the end, she decided against asking him why her pistachio ice cream was made with walnuts--afraid his brain might explode under the pressure.

Instead, she paid for her treat, accepted it, along with a little cup for drips, and helped herself to a generous supply of napkins.  Then she ambled across the street, where she settled on a shady bench to spend some time people-watching. 

A yowl shattered the stillness of the drowsy afternoon.  She stopped—mid-lick—and look down the street, at the commotion in front of the coffee shop on the corner.  A tall, sleek blonde, wearing an unfortunate yellow dress, was dodging and weaving as some red-headed she-devil took wild swings at her.  A tall, husky, dark figure lurked just beyond their reach.  There was something about the guy that seemed familiar. . .

Oh crap! It was her ‘ex’, Roger—the rat-bastard, and the hot tempered red-head was Kathy—the bitch he’d cheated on her with.  Well, so there really was a God after all, she thought, as a smile spread across her face.  She leaned against the back of the bench, licked at her ice cream and enjoyed the unfolding show.

The blonde ice princess broke away from Kathy, avoided Roger, and headed in Minnie’s direction, at a brisk clip.  Roger had not been so lucky, Kathy caught the back of his shirt, and yanked it from his pants.  Even at this distance, Minnie heard fabric ripping and a string of curses that would make her brother-in-law—the sailor—blush. 

A coffee shop employee came out, said a few harsh words about ‘never darkening their establishment again’, and shoved Roger further along the pavement, while holding on to Kathy.  Roger made the most of his head start, and followed blondie.  At least one side seam of his shirt was gone, allowing it to flap behind him like Superman’s cape. 

Only, he was no superhero.  He must have stopped going to the gym, because by the time he caught up with the blonde, just across the street from Minnie’s front row seat, he was huffing and puffing like an old man.

“Christina!” he choked out, between breaths.

The blonde spun around on her heels so fast Roger had to backpedal to keep from running into her.  However, he still caught the full blast of icy wind that emanated with her words. 

“Don’t you dare to speak to me, you piece of shit!”  She gave him a snarky look, adding, ‘You suck!”

“But Chrissy—”

“Just bite me!”

Roger must have gotten the message, because he hung his head and slumped away.  In contrast, the blonde stood up even straighter.  Unfortunately, she placed herself in a stream of direct sunlight that intensified the color of her dress, giving her a jaundiced flush.  There was something about her voice as well—a sweet, initial sugariness that morphed to a sour, brittle sound.  The image of an enormous lemon drop popped into Minnie’s head, making her chuckle into her ice cream.  Even that was more than ‘Roger the Rat’ deserved. 

The lovely lemon drop, Christina, gave him one last, frosty look and walked away.  Shirttails flapping like a flag in the wind, eyes downcast, and just generally wilting, Roger stumbled across the street and sat at the far end of Minnie’s bench. 

“You never learn, do you?” she said in a soft voice.

He looked up and noticed her.  He made a rather feeble attempt at stuffing his ragged shirt back into the waistband of his jeans and raked his fingers through his hair.  Then, to her utter disbelief, he turned and gave her one of his most charming smiles.

“Minnie,” he purred, “how are you?”

As of two minutes ago, her great mood had shot from ‘great’ to ‘phenomenal’.  Karma had shown just what a bitch she could be and Minnie was reaping the rewards.  She knew she looked incredible.  And the ice cream cone was pure serendipity! 

She lapped at it a couple times, watching him from the corner of her eye.  Yep!  He was staring at her.  Just a she knew he would.  She also knew exactly what was going through his dirty little mind.

If there was anything Roger loved, it was a blow job.  And she wasn’t ashamed to say, she gave a damned good one!

“Uh . . . I suppose you saw all that?” he asked, in a low voice.

She turned and gave her cone a long lick before answering, “I’d say pretty much the whole town saw all that—or at least heard it.”  She caught an escaping dribble of pistachio ice cream with the tip of her tongue and waited. 

He didn’t disappoint her.  “It’s not what you think . . .,” he sputtered.

“Of course not,” she said in a sympathetic tone.

“I should never have had anything to do with Kathy—she’s nuts!” 

He shifted a bit on the bench, so he was facing her more.  Beneath half closed eyes, she saw the bulge in his jeans.  Truly, she thought, this was almost too easy.  She continued enjoying her ice cream in silence.

“No, really,” he babbled on, “I was wrong to get involved with her, especially while we were dating.”  He seemed unable to stop.  “I blew it.  I know that now.  I knew it as soon as you’d gone.”

She watched him hang his head, in what she could only assume he thought showed remorse.  She gave him a compassionate expression, even though she wasn’t buying any of his bullshit.  And he walked willingly into the trap.

“No,” he said, picking up a napkin from the stack she’d set by her purse on the bench between them.  He took a corner, and touched it to the outside of her lip and flashed her another brilliant smile.  “I didn’t even know that blonde.  Kathy can’t control herself.  She just goes ‘postal’.”

Minnie didn’t bother to point out that he had called the girl ‘Chrissy’.  She just lapped at the softening ice cream in feigned innocence.

“She’s insane.  I’ve been trying for months to break it off with her.  But she’s scary.”  He seemed unable to stop himself—talk about self-control . . .  “She threatened to key my car if I ever broke up with her.”

“Roger,” she said, before poking her tongue down into the cone, and slurping.  Through lowered eyelashes, she saw his bulge growing, along with his discomfort.  Oh well, she had tried to talk him out of wearing those tight jeans. 

She concentrated on her ice cream some more, before she finally added, “Roger, seriously, you need to get a grip on yourself.”  Then she returned to her cone, but she saw the flush creep up his neck.  She knew exactly what he wanted to ‘get a grip on’—well, it might be a tossup between his dick, or her tit.  Either way, too bad; so sad. 

“I’ve learned my lesson, Minnie.  Honest!” he said, shifting in a rather obvious and futile attempt to readjust himself.         

She ignored him.  He hated to be ignored.  Her smile widened, as she lapped the pistachio ice cream, with long, slow licks.  After a minute or so, she swirled her tongue around the inner rim of the cone.  There was a low whimper, but she didn’t stop or look up.  She just kept working that cone. 

Roger tugged at his collar and scanned the surrounding area.  She wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d think someone else had made the noise, or checking for any signs of impending doom from either Kathy or Chrissy.  She didn’t really care.  She saw the beads of that he sweat popping on his forehead , even though a gentle breeze caressed them.  She smiled to herself and shifted into third . . .

“Oh my God!” she said, grinning.  “This is so good.  I can’t remember the last time I had pistachio ice . . .” she allowed her tongue to catch another errant dribble before she continued, “I take that back, it was that day we went to the lake.”  She peered over the edge of the cone, and added, “We had a good time that day.  Remember?”

It was obvious he did, because his flush darkened into a most unattractive mottled purple.  “Of course I do,” he said in a hoarse whisper. 

She shifted her own position and at the same time squirmed enough to unfasten the top button, which was already pushing the boundaries of daytime good-taste.  Most of the ice cream within licking distance was gone, and so she nibbled around the edges, then scooped out what she could with her tongue.  It was melting, and a large drop a large drip fell onto the creamy mound of exposed bosom.

Instead of getting a napkin of her own, she cupped her hand over his, and guided the napkin and his hand up to her breast, wiped it and then released his lingering hand.  She stuck her middle finger into her mouth and wet it, and dragged it across the same spot. 

Giggling, she said, “Some things are just so sticky.”  Then she went back to her ice cream cone, but now she really had to stretch her tongue and suck on the melted ice cream.  As the cone disappeared, and she no longer needed to hold the little drip cup—which had inexplicably been failing in its job—she put in on the bench, beside her purse.  She carelessly dropped the now empty hand on the thigh of Roger’s jeans and stretched out her fingers.  With a look of indecision, she flexed them several times, before asking, “Do you like this?”

For a second she thought he was going to stroke out.  His color became even more magenta and the jeans seams were cutting into him.  “Oh yeah,” he said in a husky croak, “I always did love it when you did that—”

“I meant the color.”

“Huh,” he muttered in a confused tone.

“My nail polish.  Do you like the color?” She clarified.  Then she gobbled down the remainder of her cone. 

“Oh, yeah.  Of course.  It’s very nice,” he managed in a raspy voice.  He shifted again, and her hand slid a bit nearer to his throbbing crotch.

She didn’t remove her hand.  Instead, she turned to face him—making it slip even closer to his raging erection, looked into his eyes and, in a breathy whisper, said, “I missed you so much after you left.  I missed the wonderful relation we had—although, I suppose I was wrong about that.”

He turned more.  He seemed determined to get her hand on his dick, and she almost laughed out loud as she realized he thought he was doing it imperceptibly. He always had been a legend in his own mind, she thought.

“I missed it too, Minnie.  I meant what I said about Kathy.  I was wrong to start seeing her,” he purred, “when I already had the best woman in the world.  I’m sorry.  I really am.”

“I believe you,” she said.

He scoocked even closer.  Her little finger was now just touching the tip of his cock.  And, she began moving it ever so slightly.  He swallowed another groan, and inched nearer.  Now, two fingertips were touching him.  Beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip. 

He took a deep breath and said, “Maybe we could go somewhere and talk about things.  Somewhere private.”

She looked away and down, and blushed beautifully, before she looked back up at him through thick, fluttering lashes.  It was an Oscar winning performance, if she did say so herself.  Maybe she should go out for the community theatre after all.

Minnie leaned in, so that her breath caressed his face and neck.  She moved her hand in millimeters—not inches.  His dick twitched in anticipation.  After a pregnant pause, she asked, “Do you really think so?”

Roger licked his lips, causing her to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.  He leaned in for the expected kiss, and in a hushed, whisper, added, “Oh yes, I know we could make things work again.” 

With one fluid motion, Minnie sat back, reached up with her thumb and forefinger and pinched the tip of his overly extended penis, stating, “Not in this lifetime, you bastard!”

She handed the pile of napkins to him, and pointed to the wet spot that showed navy against his faded blue jeans.  Then she leaned over until her breasts were under his nose, scooped up her purse and spun on her heels. 

As she walked away, she flicked her skirt so the last thing he had to remember was her ass, in a pair of lace panties he had given her. 

Life was good, after all!



Word Count: 2587