Kazarina: Catwoman of the Cherubim Cemetery

As more than a few wags had noted,
the fact that the Café de la Châtelaine
lay kitty-corner from the abandoned cemetery
where the city’s catwomen made their home
meant that it was practically destined
to host a large cat clientele. The café’s proprietors
had therefore learned
to brew coffee to cat specifications
and kept catnip and gushy fuds in the countertop display.

Blue-haired, big-breasted,
and more morose
than one might expect
on a beautiful May morning,
Kazarina sat at a windowside table
sipping her cafe latte.

To passers-by she might have looked
bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,
but under her clothes she chafed.
Everything pinched and cinched
and never seemed to fit properly,
and this blouse and skirt (borrowed,
it must be said, from Xyris, who claimed
that they weren’t really that bad)
were no exception.
Still, she supposed, one couldn’t expect
the naked mores of the cemetery
to extend to a human establishment.
That was the great sacrifice
that every cat had to make
for a good coffee.

She was still silently bemoaning
the strictures of her blouse
when deep voice interrupted her reverie.

“Hello, Kaz,” it said.

She didn’t have to look up
to know who it was—
she recognized his scent at once—
but she did so all the same.

Lugo. She’d never stop marveling
over how werewolves’ human forms
diverged from their animal forms.
She would never have guessed
that tawny-haired, blue-eyed Lugo,
for instance,
would transform at the full moon
into a black-haired beast with red eyes.

He’d run her down last month at the full moon,
and if she were honest, she’d have to admit
that she had hoped he’d do it again this month too.
Instead, Barrand and Tregar had tag-teamed her;
and while their double penetration had left her
deeply satisfied on a physical level,
she’d missed the rapport
that she shared with Lugo.

She winced as she shifted in her chair.
Three days had passed,
but her ass had not yet ceased
bemoaning the consequences
of Tregar’s dick being the size of a tree trunk.

Lugo gave her a knowing smile
and, standing behind her,
trailed his fingers down her spine.
She couldn’t help arching her back; oh,
the skritches felt so good
as he found the spot that, try as she might,
she could never hit on her own,
and she twisted to and fro,
arching her back
with pleasure as he stroked her.

It was so easy with Lugo. Not
that she ever made the mistake
of thinking that she was special.
In the course of his career,
he’d fucked every cat in the graveyard,
and never gave any indication
of a particular tendre for her  
even though over the years he’d been party
to all her werewolf firsts.
Oral sex, pussy sex, anal sex…
her first double penetration,
when she’d clung to his shoulders
and buried her face against his neck
as Hewen tried to coax open her back door.