Charlotte was rounding the block in the last quarter mile of her morning run. It was already humid and hot, though it was not yet 6:00 am. At mile 3 she'd pulled off her long-sleeved tee shirt, tying it around her waist, so now she ran in her running shorts and sports bra. What the hell difference did it make, she thought - it covered more than a bikini top would and no one was even up at this hour. So much for the City that Doesn't Sleep. Now and then a lone taxi would come into view, and there was a crowd of after hours club rats walking home, still drunk, singing loudly, still in their Friday night outfits.
As she approached lower Madison Avenue, she spotted more signs of life. The police had put out a series of wood barriers and a collection of motley trailers and vans were parked at odd angles on the deserted street. Another street fair - fantastic, Charlotte thought. You could never have too many pairs of cheap tube socks, used paperback books, and funnel cakes. She decided to quickly alter her course to avoid the strange, gypsy-like people who moved from street fair to street fair, doing their set up here for the day. She wondered whom they all were, and whether they also had straight jobs or if they could make enough money just selling fresh lemonade or sausage and pepper sandwiches to live in expensive New York.
Her new path took her down a tiny alley that she knew had an outlet by Union Square Park. From there she would cross over to Chelsea and head up toward her apartment. Midway through the alley, she heard a loud crash over by the collection of dumpsters. She slowed to a stop - her senses alert. This part of town is not normally dangerous, but there were no people around. She peered cautiously toward the darkened corner, poised and ready to run if necessary. She reached into the thigh pocket of her running shorts and pulled out her house keys, threading them through her fingers, creating a makeshift weapon. It was a tip she learned in a self-defense class at University.
She jumped and almost ran when a trash can lid clattered to the pavement behind her. Turning quickly, moving into a slightly crouched position, she sighed with relief and then laughed at her own nervousness when she realized that the source of this noise was nothing more than a stray cat. He walked out of the darkness and sat before her, regarding her gravely with large gray eyes. He was a large Calico, white with patches of gray and black. He was very regal even there amid the city garbage.
"Well hello there, handsome." Charlotte said to the cat. "Was that you making all that noise? I thought you must be 10 times as big." Not surprisingly, the cat did not reply, but simply continued to stare at her.
"Aren't you gorgeous." She said, looking admiring at the rather large, graceful feline. He rose at this and walked lithely over to her, rubbing his head against her calf, mewing softly in a rather deep voice.
"Are you a stray, baby?" She asked, as she leaned down to rub his head and back. The cat arched up into her had, his large and strangely expressive eyes looking up at her almost longingly. "No collar, and no offense darling, but you look a little shaggy and thin. Are you hungry?" At this, the cat rose on his hind legs and placed his front paws on Charlotte's thigh. He let out a half purr, half meow that sounded almost like a plea. Charlotte got the distinct feeling that he was asking to come home with her. The idea formed in her head as if he'd spoken. Always a cat lover, she thought: This might be just what I need. She reached down for him and he nearly leapt into her arms. She was pleasantly surprised as he rubbed his large soft head against her jaw and neck, purring loudly in contentment.
"Okay sweetie, let's go home then." She said to her new companion. She carried her new roommate the few blocks home. When she opened the door to her apartment, he jumped lightly down from her arms and walked about the place, seemingly surveying the rooms. He walked in a methodical pattern from the kitchen, to the living room/dining room, a quick look at the bathroom, and then her bedroom. He hopped up onto a windowsill just behind her bed, looking out the window briefly before turning back to regard Charlotte.
"I see you've made yourself at home - so that's good." She laughed. "How about some tuna? It's all I have now - but I'll get some supplies after I get showered and dressed." He stepped over the headboard and walked across Charlotte's neatly made bed, perching himself on the footboard near her. Charlotte leaned down toward this lovely, strange creature and was amused as he leaned up to her face and sniffed her cheek softly before rubbing a sandy tongue across her salty skin.
"You're welcome." She said in response. "C'mon then." And walked back into the kitchen, followed closely by the cat. She opened a can of tuna, draining it and dumping the contents onto a salad plate. Then she filled a small porcelain bowl with water and put both down on the floor at the edge of the kitchen door. The cat looked up at her for a moment, his tail flicking excitedly, before he moved over to the food and began to tuck in.
"Bon appetite. I'm taking a shower."
She turned away and walked toward her room, untying the tee shirt from her waist and pulling her still damp sports bra over her head as she walked. She kicked off her running shoes and pulled off her socks, finally pulling off the running shorts. She gathered up her running clothes and dropped them into the laundry hamper. Charlotte was naked as she walked back toward the bathroom door. Suddenly she paused - surprised to see that the cat had left his meal in the kitchen, and was now sitting in the living room looking at the bathroom door, or rather, staring at her. As she watched the cat watching her, she could have sworn his eyes roamed the full length of her body, before returning to her face. There was something in the way he looked at her that was almost unnerving. His tail began to flick from side to side, as if eyeing his prey.
"Do you mind?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her nakedness. Amused at her own flight of fancy, she shook her head and laughed. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door with a decisive click.
After showering, Charlotte dressed in a pink cotton sundress that barely reached her knees. It was going to be another very hot day. She ran gel through her shoulder length curly hair, but decided to let it dry naturally. She had hair the shade of deep auburn, and though of a pale complexion, did not have the type of skin that was completely covered with freckles. She brushed some black mascara on her thick lashes, which brought out the green in her eyes. A dab of lip gloss on her lips and she was ready to go. She walked into her room and saw that the cat had settled himself on the bed.
It never occurred to Charlotte until now that he might have fleas. She shuddered at the thought, and approached the cat to inspect his fur. As she ran her fingers across his coat, he rolled onto his back exposing his lean belly. She saw that, though thin and a bit scruffy, this cat was well groomed. He must be naturally fastidious, she thought. She absently scratched his tummy, and he let out a low soft mew of pleasure. She noticed that he was not neutered - he still had all of his male "equipment."
"Okay, I'll be back with some things for you, handsome." She leaned down impulsively and planted a kiss on the top of his head. He purred loudly and gazed up into her eyes with an almost loving expression on his feline face. One soft paw lightly touched her cheek - his claws still all fully retracted so that there was no scratch, only a slight love tap. "I like you, too." She said.
