Authors: Amber Benson
Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fantasy - Contemporary
Cat's Claw (28 page)
I had just eased my new friend into the tub—averting my eyes from his naked parts—when he sat back and slid under the water. I thought maybe he was playing with me, trying to get me to jump in and save him or something, so I didn’t do anything.
“Not funny,” I said. “
Really
not funny.”
Really
not funny.”
After I’d counted to ten and still no Senenmut, I started to get worried. I stuck my hands into the bubble bath-filled tub and reached around in the muck, trying to get a good grip on my Egyptian friend. Finally, I found a hank of hair—or it could’ve been beard, for all I knew—and dredged the half-drowned man out of the water.
It was amazing how wracked with guilt you can feel when you’ve almost let someone drown.
Seriously, I was like some kind of errant new mother who’d almost let her infant die while giving him his first bath. I made a New Year’s resolution right then and there (even though I was quite aware of the fact that New Year’s was a number of months away) not
ever
to have children because I was completely unfit to be a mother. Hell, if I couldn’t even manage a five-thousand-year-old Egyptian man, what dastardly things would I do to a baby?
ever
to have children because I was completely unfit to be a mother. Hell, if I couldn’t even manage a five-thousand-year-old Egyptian man, what dastardly things would I do to a baby?
I was a wreck, but Senenmut seemed unfazed by the adventure. He sat back in the tub and watched his beard float to the surface. Then he stared at his toes in exactly the same way he’d stared at them back at the Jackal Brothers’ torture chamber.
Finally, I got bored with watching him watching his toes, so I picked up a bottle of coconut-flavored shampoo and put some in my hand. It was only then, as I began to contemplate washing the tangled rat’s nest that was Senenmut’s hair, that I realized it would’ve been much smarter if I’d cut his hair before attempting to shampoo it. Annoyed with myself, but knowing there was no point now in pulling out some scissors and probably scaring the shit out of my bathing charge, I plopped the shampoo on Senenmut’s head—totally
not
expecting what happened next.
not
expecting what happened next.
Senenmut started sniffing the air, his nostrils flaring as he grabbed my wrist and stuck his nose directly into the remains of the shampoo I had in my palm.
“Ew,” I said, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “Stop that!”
He stared at me, then his eyes quickly darted over to the bottle of shampoo. Before I could stop him, he had the bottle in his hand and was squeezing its contents into his open mouth.
“Oh my God!” I screamed, wrestling the bottle away from him as he started gagging. “That’s shampoo, not food, you idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot,” he said, his words garbled by shampoo bubbles, but still distinct. I stared, shocked that he could speak—I had only been half joking about that deaf-and-dumb thing earlier.
“You can talk?” I said.
Senenmut nodded.
“Why didn’t you talk to me before?” I said, annoyed.
“You didn’t look like you were worth talking to.”
I sat back on my heels next to the side of the tub and pushed a few errant strands of hair out of my face.
“Oh, okay.”
I didn’t know quite what to say. I had saved this guy’s life, like, twice now and
he
didn’t think I looked like I was worth talking to?
he
didn’t think I looked like I was worth talking to?
“Okay,”
I repeated as I stood up and headed for bathroom door.
I repeated as I stood up and headed for bathroom door.
At that moment, I didn’t care
whom
I owed. If Cerberus wanted the prick in the tub, he could just come and get him himself.
whom
I owed. If Cerberus wanted the prick in the tub, he could just come and get him himself.
“Wait!” Senenmut said.
I was half-ready to ignore him, but something in the tone of his voice made me stop.
“The spirit in the cat. You love him?”
Well, that definitely froze me on the spot. I had
totally
forgotten that poor Daniel was still trapped inside Bast.
totally
forgotten that poor Daniel was still trapped inside Bast.
“How do you know about him?” I said, turning back around.
Senenmut shrugged.
“He is your great love?”
It was my turn to shrug now.
“I don’t know.”
But even as I said the words, I knew I was full of it. My heart got all jumpy just thinking about Daniel. If he wasn’t my
great
love, he was at least something
close
to it.
great
love, he was at least something
close
to it.
I sat down on the lid of the bone white Toto toilet and sighed.
“Okay, he
might
be my great love . . . and he might not. I just don’t completely know how I feel about him at the moment,” I said, resting my chin in my hands.
might
be my great love . . . and he might not. I just don’t completely know how I feel about him at the moment,” I said, resting my chin in my hands.
“When he made love to you—”
“Stop right there,” I said, getting all depressed. I so did
not
want to say what I was going to
have
to say next.
not
want to say what I was going to
have
to say next.
“Up until this very moment, no love has been made.”
Senenmut’s eyes went wide.
“He has not made love to you? I don’t understand. Love is a gift from the Gods. A man must make good use of it.”
“Yeah, well, he hasn’t.” I sighed. “At least not yet.”
Senenmut shook his head, a look of pity crossing his gaunt face.
“You are unloved. How sad for you.”
“Shut up and wash your stupid hair,” I said, frustrated by the situation I now found myself in. “And by the way, I don’t
need
your pity. I’m not unloved. That is, I’ve been loved before.”
need
your pity. I’m not unloved. That is, I’ve been loved before.”
Ha,
I thought to myself,
I can count all that loving on one hand—four fingers to be precise and one of them doesn’t even really count!
I thought to myself,
I can count all that loving on one hand—four fingers to be precise and one of them doesn’t even really count!
Okay, when I was eighteen, I
tried
to have sex with a guy in my Introduction to Nineteenth-Century Literature class—and “tried” is definitely the operative word here.
tried
to have sex with a guy in my Introduction to Nineteenth-Century Literature class—and “tried” is definitely the operative word here.
His name was Samuel and he was absolutely adorable. Originally, he was from England—he had this amazing British accent that I just drooled over—but he’d lived in California since he was fourteen, so he wasn’t a total foreign-exchange type.
Thinking back, I could still see his dark brown puppy dog eyes, long eyelashes, and delicate bone structure. God, he really was a gorgeous specimen of a man. And to this day, I really don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone prettier. In fact, he actually kind of looked like a more girly/sensitive version of James McAvoy—that Scottish actor whom I think is just delicious!
And the beauty of the whole thing was that I didn’t even have to lift a finger to make the hookup happen. I was just sitting in class, going over my notes, when he came up to
me
and asked
me
out for coffee. All I had to do was nod my head yes. It couldn’t have been any easier.
me
and asked
me
out for coffee. All I had to do was nod my head yes. It couldn’t have been any easier.
So, our coffee date went reasonably well—I only spilled my cup of coffee on
myself
—and we ended up dating in earnest for, like, two weeks.
myself
—and we ended up dating in earnest for, like, two weeks.
Now, at that point in my life, I had never had sex with another person—and barely even myself—so this thing with Samuel was new territory for me. I mean, I’d fooled around with people and stuff, but actual “penetration” hadn’t really been on the table yet.
Well, the more time I spent with Samuel, and his sexy accent, the more I wanted to get some “penetrating” action going on, but the funny thing about Samuel was that the more I insisted that I was ready to give it up to him, the more
he
kept insisting that it wasn’t a big deal and we should just wait.
he
kept insisting that it wasn’t a big deal and we should just wait.
At first, I thought it was supersweet that he wanted my first time to be special, but then as the weeks wore on—we were coming on three weeks now, which was like an eternity in college—I started to get kind of antsy about all the waiting I was having to do. Heck, I was a red-blooded American girl who was more than ready to make love to the handsome British man of my dreams—and the handsome British man was so
not
cooperating. This was
not
the way this sex thing was supposed to go down.
I
was the one who was supposed to be fending off
his
advances, not the other way around.
not
cooperating. This was
not
the way this sex thing was supposed to go down.
I
was the one who was supposed to be fending off
his
advances, not the other way around.
Finally, after I couldn’t take it anymore, I called my best friend, Noh, in Rome to ask her for some advice. She had deferred her first year of college in order to spend time in Italy with her aunt Sarah, volunteering on an archeological dig outside the city. They were helping to excavate and catalog an ancient Roman cemetery before the city planners razed it to make room for a new road.
Anyway, when I finally got ahold of Noh—time difference and odd working hours making the call much harder to put through than one would’ve expected—she had one piece of advice for me, and one piece only.
Seduce him.
So, on an evening I knew my roommate would be out partying all night—and hopefully puking her guts out in someone
else’s
bathroom for a change—I invited Samuel over to “hang out.”
else’s
bathroom for a change—I invited Samuel over to “hang out.”
At least, that was the plan . . . but I had other ideas in mind.
I opened the door wearing a silk kimono with a dragon embroidered on the back that my mother had given me for my last birthday—and nothing on underneath it.
After shutting the door and locking it behind him, I whispered this fact into Samuel’s ear. I expected him to kiss me, or hold me
or something
, but he just nodded, a little frown creasing his sensitive face.
or something
, but he just nodded, a little frown creasing his sensitive face.
Even though my room was just a typical mouse hole of a dorm room—with two twin beds, two desks, and two chairs—I had put sandalwood candles on every available space in the place and it looked and smelled incredible. There was even an open bottle of red wine that I’d bought off a guy down the hall and two wineglasses waiting expectantly on my desk while soft, sexy music—a little Jeff Buckley, actually—played in the background.
I took Samuel’s coat and dropped it on my desk chair, then took his hand and maneuvered him toward my tiny twin bed. He sat down beside me and I handed him a glass of red wine. We sat like that for a few minutes, each of us sipping wine and looking uncomfortable. After two glasses, I had a little Dutch courage, so I leaned forward and kissed him—which he seemed pretty all right with—so I took that as a sign that it was time to move forward with my plan.
I started unbuttoning his pants.
Once again, let me state for the record that he seemed perfectly okay with the whole thing. I mean, it wasn’t like he didn’t know where all this was going, right? Candles, wine . . . naked Callie? Pretty self-explanatory,
I
think.
I
think.
After a few more minutes of kissing, I pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. He tensed and stopped kissing me back, but I was too hot and bothered by now to really notice.
“Do it,” I moaned in his ear. “Put it inside me.”
I reached down and grabbed his penis—which was erect, so there had to be a little reciprocation going on—and pulled it toward me. All that was left for me to do was climb on top of him and—
Suddenly, Samuel started squirming like an eel beneath me, shoving me so hard that I went flying off him and landed hard on the floor, slamming my tailbone against the bottom of my desk.
“Rape!” Samuel screamed, cuddling his now-limp penis in his hand like it was a wounded animal.
“No! No rape!” I yelled back at him, terrified someone in my hall would hear all the commotion and call our RA. “There were candles, for God’s sake!”
He glared at me, wild-eyed.
“You took advantage of me!”
“No, I didn’t,” I pleaded, crawling over to him and grabbing his leg.
“Rapist!” he hissed as he pried me off his leg.
“Please don’t go . . .” I cried, but he just shook his head, slamming the door resoundingly behind him as he went.
I was too upset and shocked to even cry, so I just sat there on the floor, kimono askew, wondering what I had done wrong.
I spent the next two hours—and two hundred dollars in long distance—on the phone, rehashing the whole story for Noh. After laughing so hard that she started snorting, the only thing my friend could come up with was that Samuel was either gay or just highly allergic . . .
to me.
to me.
In the end, it turned out he was just gay. A few weeks later he started dating this really hot guy in our literature class, and after that I didn’t feel so wretched about the whole experience.
Needless to say, it was a
long
time before I tried my hand at the “penetration” game again.
long
time before I tried my hand at the “penetration” game again.
“Okay, I know that you are a gambling woman,” Senenmut said, startling me out of my thoughts, “so I will offer you an exchange.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, wondering what I’d missed while my mind was ruminating over my old “sex gone wrong” memories.
“You help me find my great love and I will help you acquire yours,” he said, sniffing the bottle of shampoo again. “Bast is a jealous one. She will keep you from your man just because she might.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the catch was.
“I know that you have promised to take me to Hell, but before you do, allow me one last folly . . . and I will help you steal your love away from the Queen of the Cats.”
This was an enticing offer, but I really didn’t think we had the time to piss around looking for Senenmut’s lost love. Still, I pulled out the little rubidium clock so I could check to see how much time was left before we had to get our asses down to Hell.
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