A Halloween Cat Tail

A Halloween Cat's Tail

This is my 4

th

story on this platform and I'm again retelling a story that is from real life, having fun remembering the excitement of this experience. I hope you like it and I'd love to hear any comments, feedback or the like. Enjoy.

None of the family were invited to my brother's wedding. He'd left the UK to take up a job in the Bahamas at a 5-star hotel and had started dating one of the cabaret singers, an Argentinian woman about 9 years older than him. And I know what you're thinking: some gorgeous Latin beauty, with raven hair, a voluptuous body, dark eyes...the lot. That's what I thought and I went "good on you".

My Mum and Dad had gone out to see him for a holiday and he was clearly smitten. Mum and Dad less so. It was not a happy holiday with many awkward moments and arguments. On the last day of the holiday, one of these arguments culminated in my Mum saying, "If I'm honest, I'd be horrified if you married my son." No ambiguity there. No taking it back either.

Things progressed and they got married about 4 months after the holiday. Maybe a "fuck you" to Mum and Dad and no surprise they were not invited. As his younger brother and because we were pretty close, I was surprised I wasn't invited but I guess he might have felt I had been brainwashed. This was the mid 80's and communication was not so easy then. Certainly, he and I didn't talk often and 20 years old lads aren't writing letters to each other. Anyway, the wedding happened and we all found out about it after the event.

I was living in London at the time, living my best life as they say. I'd had a few serious girlfriends but was currently in a casual relationship with a horny thing who lived 2 hours drive away. She was a wildcat in bed but neither of us felt so much for the other that we were willing to move, certainly not me, from the playground that was London in the early 80's. So perhaps once every 3-4 weeks one of us travelled to the other and we spent the weekends fucking like rabbits and hardly coming out of the bedroom.

The weeks in between were fairly quiet sex wise, although going out clubbing often ended up with me at some girl's place, or her at mine. I was still learning the art of sex in all it's guises, so I would love to say each night was a passionate frensy of fucking, orgasms and screams of joy. Some were. Some weren't. That's life, as we figure out that it's not all about the male's pleasure and how to please a woman, how to savour the smells, juices and wonders of the female anatomy and understanding that foreplay is more important to brilliant sex than the actual fucking.

I was 24, decent looking (think about how Sting looked in mid 80's), working at an advertising agency and whilst not rolling in money, had my own apartment (well the bank did and I paid the mortgage), sharing with a mate and a circle of good friends. This was way before it was commonplace to go to a gym to keep fit and buffed, so I played hockey at the weekend. Although to be fair that was hardly keeping fit, as directly after the game, all 14 teams, 7 home, 7 aways teams, all piled into the clubhouse and drank copious amounts of beer. You run around. You drink a lot. I guess it sort of evened out.... not.

Anyway, I'd always had a high metabolism and didn't put on weight. I played tennis, squash, went skiing if I could afford it and was generally active. I was 6'1", 78kg, flat stomach, blue eyes and light brown hair. It's funny, I never really thought about how I looked in those days. I was outgoing and had always done Ok with girls from age about 16.

I was never a "bad boy", fucking women this way and that. With my 2 serious girl friends of 2 years and 4 years, I'd been faithful, despite the opportunities that life in London threw up. Both were really good looking and with the 4-year relationship, we'd both said the L word to each other. But things came to a conclusion, as we both realised it wasn't working. In hindsight I was still too juvenile for Alison, who was nearly 2 years older than me. When you're 20 and your girlfriend is 22, that's quite a maturity gap. Ah well.

Back to the main story: my brother. A year after the marriage, he and Sofia had moved to New York. Manhattan to be exact, although not living in luxury: the Lower East Side, which in 1984 was fairly grungy. I'd been out to visit them, not having been to the Big Apple before, it seemed a great opportunity to have some fun, get free lodging and experience one of the world's great cities.

My first visit was about 15 months after the marriage and my first time meeting Sofia. I mentioned that I had an image of what she would look like, this beguiling chanteuse. Hmmmmm, reality can be a real bummer. Not really a looker. An angular, rather severe face, short in stature and describing her as plump would be generous.

But turns out we got on like a house on fire. We both got each other's sense of humour and the banter was great (she spoke fluent English having lived in the USA since she was 19) and my brother was visibly relieved that this was not going to be a repeat of our Mum and Dad's holiday.

New York, as anyone who has visited from overseas, was (and is) just like the movies. The sounds, the smells, the sights were straight out of the countless films and TV shows: Taxi Driver, Kojak, Annie Hall....the list goes on (I'm referencing from the 70's and 80's as that when this story is set!). The steam coming up from the manholes, the diners, the bars, the street food, the delis, the skyscrapers, which have you walking around looking upwards. I loved it.

Fast forward 18 months and my brother Peter and Sofia had a baby boy (Nicholas) and there had been a thaw in the cold war between them and my parents. Grandkids do that. Unlike the wedding, this time we're all invited over to the christening. Dad decides to pass on the opportunity but Mum and I say yes and book our flights. It's to be a short trip of 4 days and nights but I'm looking forward to revisiting New York and exploring more and hopefully meeting another girl who would swoon at my accent and let me into her bed. That story from the first trip was less eventful and hence no story, as yet. Well, it's OK to be an optimist, isn't it?

Mum and I got on well, so travelling with her was a pleasure. She was in her 50's and very "mumsy". I know most stories describe Mums as these alluring MILFs, incredible for their age and with high sex drives. My Mum was the opposite. I suspected that she had only ever had sex with my Dad. It was just not her idea of a good time. Lovely Mum though: kind, caring, supportive.

We arrived at their apartment around 7.00pm and they'd prepared dinner, feeling we may be jet lagged and not want a night out. The 5-hour time difference meant 7.00pm in New York, was midnight in London. So, an early mark for both of us.

The next day happened to be Friday the 31

st of

October, with the christening being the next day. Mum and I did some sightseeing as it was her first time there and we had a lot of fun just taking in the vibe of the city.

In the evening Sofia said they'd booked a table at a local restaurant, nothing too fancy, and would treat us, seeing we'd made the effort to come over. She also said that one of her Argentinian friends, Gabby, would be dropping by later. My ears pricked up. Argentinian friend? I wonder what she was like. I decided not to fire a load of questions and reveal my interest, deciding instead to let the evening play out and hopefully be pleasantly surprised.

The dinner was fine, with conversation about the baby and the adjustments that were created in lifestyle, pressure on finances, getting back in shape and so on. Then Gabby turned up. Oh my. Gabby turned up.

Now Halloween in the UK in 1986 was not a big deal. A few parties some years but it really was not a fixture in the calendar for people my age, or for that matter for most small kids. Not the case in the USA, as every kid was out trick or treating. And any self-respecting 18-35-year-old would be out at a party somewhere, probably in fancy dress. I'm not sure the slutty costumes were the rage then but Gabby was perhaps ahead of the curve. Not that she was in a slutty costume. Sexy absolutely.

Let me describe her. About 24 (my age), lovely and slim, about 5'7", shoulder length dark hair with a natural wave, gorgeous C cup breasts, stunning pert butt and a face that communicated fun, energy and confidence, while being stunningly beautiful. Dark eyes, long lashes and full lips. Did I say she was beautiful? Then the kicker.

As it was Halloween, she was wearing a skintight, one-piece cat costume, complete with long tail. A deep blue crushed velvet that showed off her perfect figure and toned body. She aroused the tom cat in me. My cock twitched and grew. Easy Alex. Don't get ahead of yourself.

We did the introductions and as you do, Gabby and I held eye contact a little bit longer than the others did. Same age. Both good looking, there's not going to be anything happening with any of the others, so it's natural the focus goes to each other.

But she sits herself next to Sofia, opposite me and joins in the conversation like she'd been here all night. She is not only gorgeous to look at but a great personality as well. Easy to chat to. I was trying to gauge whether there was a boyfriend on the scene, guessing probably not, or else why would she be here, on her own, on Halloween. Maybe Sofia had mentioned she had this hot (Ha!) brother-in-law over and she should come and check me out. Maybe. Sofia had not said anything to me along the same lines.

At about 10.00pm Mum was flagging and wanted to call it a night. Sofia and Peter agreed and needed to get the baby back (Did I mention they had brought him along in a carry cot) and it looked like the evening was wrapping up. Damn. I hadn't really done enough, so I thought, to make an impression on Gabby. This was slipping through my fingers. Or was it? No, because Gabby then said the magic words. "Alex, I'm off to a brilliant club to meet up with some friends. Do you fancy coming?" "I would like that very much. Are you sure your friends won't mind?" "Oh no. Quite the contrary. They'll love some good-looking Englishman in their midst to talk to." That was a good sign.

We said our goodbyes to the others and Gabby and I hailed a taxi and off we went. We hadn't said much directly to each other, as the conversation had been more communal in the restaurant. I asked about who we would be meeting - a couple of friends from college - where we were going - a club called Tunnel - and whether this was a full-blown Halloween party - not quite but this club was renowned for its hedonism. 60% gay but with plenty of straights there. Multiple rooms, each with its own DJ playing a mix of house, dance, Hip Hop and disco. Whatever took your fancy. I liked the sound of it.

Gabby knew I was in town for the christening, which she had also been invited to and she asked whether we were religious. "Not at all. In fact, I'd put myself firmly in the skeptic camp, tending to atheism. I think the idea of praying to a god to intervene on my behalf on anything from my hockey team winning to good weather on a holiday is ridiculous. I'm kind of surprised my brother is having a christening and asking me to be godfather, as I an pretty sure he has the same views as me. Probably Sofia and her catholic upbringing."

I suddenly stopped, thinking perhaps Gabby was a practicing catholic and I might have offended her. Not at all. "So, you don't think anyone is keeping score on when you're bad or good?" she asked. "Only Santa and I feel he cuts us all a lot of slack." I replied. "I completely agree. I was brought up catholic but lapsed in my teens. I don't like what organised religion does to people" she said. Ok, we're in sync there I thought.

Turned out Gabby worked at the United Nations as an analyst. Was involved in human rights. Did a bit of dancing and acting and was an all-round good person. We chatted away, sharing snippets from our lives and discussing tastes in music. I said how excited I was to be going out as my brother and Sofia were house bound with the baby and I didn't know anyone in New York. "You always have a better time if you go out with a local. Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favour and take you out in London. Have you been?" Her eyes flashed. She liked that idea. "Ooooh, no. I'd love to have an excuse to come across to London. But we might not get on tonight. It's early days." "It is indeed but indications are very positive from my perspective." Mine too" she said and giggled.

We arrived at the club, which was located on 12

th

Ave in Chelsea in an old bond warehouse and had recently opened. It was the "in" club to go to I found out later. Plenty of people were crowded outside, with a doorman operating the usual velvet rope, allowing people in seemingly at his whim. Gabby confidently moved through the crowd and spoke to the bouncer. The clip board came out and he nodded. She spoke into his ear, pointing to me and there was a moment when I thought I wasn't going to pass muster, but again he nodded and we were in.

Turns out she knew someone who worked at the club and that was our pass into the adventure. This club was something else. Subterranean, built around the old railway tunnels that were used to load and unload goods in the warehouse. The dance floor had a sunken area where the tracks used to go. All along the side were dark hollows with seats and passages leading off to other rooms. 80% of people were in some sort of costume. The gay scene is brilliant for that. They love a good dress up and really what's not to like? Gabby fitted right in. And happily, whilst I was not in costume, my clothing was suitably fashionable, so that I didn't feel out of place. Well, maybe a bit.

Clubs are loud, so talking is limited to shouting into ears but sign language helps and Gabby signed to the dance floor and we headed into the middle. House music is all about getting into the feel of the music and we both got into that zone really quickly. The movements can be subtle and as the bass hits you feel it rather than hear it. We danced close, without touching. She was a great dancer and I could not stop watching her in her cat suit, swishing her tail. I'm OK on the dance floor and can bust a few moves. As I hoped, the dancing connected us more and we both sensed a shift in our energy, with a sexy tension starting to bubble to the surface, helped by the hedonistic vibe in the club. Everyone was here to have a good time.

After about 30 minutes, when there was a lull in the beat, I signaled about getting a drink and we went to the bar. Sweat was on our faces, and we both were glowing and excited. It is thrilling to be in these early stages of a night, when you are not sure what is going to happen, hoping it develops and the air laden with possibility.

I think it's always better to hold off diving in for an early kiss. It's either too early and knocks things off kilter, or you go down the rabbit hole of kissing and making out. Nice though that is, delaying and savoring the anticipation heightens everything that comes later on. It's also a bit of a tease.

We got our drinks and Gabby started to lead me around to find her friends. This club was amazing. There were boys and girls gyrating in suspended dance cages. Each room was decorated differently: a library, an S&M dungeon, a more conventional room with glitter balls. Gilded furniture, with velvet, leather chesterfields, love seats. Every room with a new DJ and a crowd in various states of dress or undress, either dancing, talking and quite a few making out. Everyone seemed loved up, naturally or chemically enhanced and it was intoxicating to be immersed in it with this beautiful cat woman.

Her friends were nowhere to be seen. This was before mobile phones so we really had no way of contacting them to find out where they were. Maybe they had not made it past the velvet rope. Maybe they were in a dark corner, having met someone.

I said to Gabby "Do you mind not finding them?" "Not really. Glad I've got you though." "Me too I said." It was clear by now there was a strong mutual attraction.

A track came on in the room we were in and Gabby grabbed me onto the floor again. This was a sensuous tune that called out for close dancing. She turned her back and looked over her shoulder at me and then slowly backed into me. My hands touched her hips and pulled her closer. This was our first touch and it was electric. Screw the anticipation. I needed to break my self-imposed shackles. Besides which, if I didn't make a move, she might think there was a problem. I kissed her neck and she immediately turned her head and we kissed, softly pressing our mouths together. We stayed like this for a few seconds, still in rhythm to the music. I felt giddy, just from a kiss. We looked at each other and both sensed this was going to be a magical night, which ended in only one place: her bed.

She smiled that beautiful smile and I kissed her again, slightly harder this time and opened my mouth ever so slightly and pushed my tongue against her teeth. Her mouth opened, welcoming me in. She tasted sweet. She smelt gorgeous, with a perfume that was subtle yet sexy. I put my hand gently on her head, stroking her hair and face. She put her arms around me and held me tight.

"So glad you asked me here. And I'm sure your friends are great but who needs them?"

The music kicked in again and we decided to stick around for more. It was tempting to rush either for the door, or a dark corner of the club but for now we sucked in the euphoria of kissing and embrace the moment.

Now our dancing was completely in sync, moving close, as if in a trance, touching, stroking each other's sides and backs, still holding off from the intimate places we would get to soon enough.

15 minutes later it was time for a break. We got another drink and found ourselves in that dark nook that the club excelled at. We fell onto each other, our mouths open, tongues battling for supremacy. God, it had been a while since I had done this in public before but this was the ideal place. Our PDA was on the low scale compared to what we saw that night, right up to blow jobs in the toilets and fucking in the darker parts of the club.

Finally, I was able to start exploring Gabby's stunning body. I could feel her breasts through the velvet and she clearly had no bra on underneath. The cat suit was tight and her breasts were so young and firm they needed no extra support. Her nipples pushed out through the material, clearly highly aroused. There was no access to them other than through the velvet, as he outfit zipped up at the back, with the zip going from her neck to the top of her ass.

Meanwhile Gabby is exploring my body, popping a couple of buttons on my shirt to get access to my chest and torso. Her hands were soft but her movements had an urgency to them. She pinched my nipples and squeezed my pecs before moving her hand down my abs. My cock was now rock hard and getting very uncomfortable in my pants. Gabby pulled her hand from under my shirt and tailed her fingers over my bulge, looking at me with lust in her eyes. She leaned forward and whispered in my ear "That feels very nice Alex. And all for me."

I don't know how long we spent making out in that nook but my head was spinning when we went for our next dance, this time in the S&M room. The cage dancers were dressed in bondage gear, one was a Dom, another guy was basically naked with a leather harness on his cock, a collar and another Dom whipping him in time with the music. Whilst we were (probably) not going to be experimenting with S&M, the hedonistic feel to the room, coupled with the sexy house music being played, perfectly suited our mood.