Wild Wishes: A Happy Effin Valentine Page 2

  He shuddered at that thought and shook himself out of his musings. He had things to do.

  There was territory to defend, balls to lick, and asses to observe.

  Being a cat wasn’t all that bad, but damn, he sure missed pussy.

  Chapter Four

  “Why is this happening to me?” Effin wondered out loud as she absently scratched at the swollen and bumpy flesh that once made up her right cheek.

  “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?” the helpful tow truck driver asked, peering at her, trying to hold in a wince. “Prayer helps.”

  Effin rolled her eyes and tried not to pout; it made her swollen lips look all the more swollen.

  “I pray,” she groused. “Lately, I’ve been praying for death.”

  “Suicide is not the answer!” the large, greasy, stringy-haired, pale man snapped. “God has given you this wondrous life and you are planning on throwing it all away!”

  “Whoa, God-boy,” Effin shouted, throwing up one hand as if to shield herself from his glare of death that she was sure had to be patented in some death camp for prisoner torture. “I never said I was going to kill myself. It is just an expression.”

  “You need to express gratitude for your Lord and Savior!” the man growled back, making Effin discreetly turn her head away from his red-faced visage to check how far she was away from her home. If it was close enough, she was going to pop the door and make a run for it. This man had to be demented!

  “I do!”

  “By praying for death?” he growled, his three chins quivering in his indignation. “You are one ungrateful black child!”

  What did he just say?

  “What?” Suddenly, she was a lot less weary and a lot angrier. And her damn face was itching more as her ire built. “What did you just say to me?”

  “I said that you are one ungrateful black child!” he fairly screamed, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly between her and the road.

  “And I think that you are one greasy, overweight disgrace to the white race, you reject from a Southern Baptist prison camp! Me being black don’t have shit to do with my bad day! You want to know about my bad day, you self-righteous asshole? It started with my ceiling falling in, my car not starting, and it seems to be ending with me having to deal with you, you overweight asshole! Don’t you dare preach the Lord to me when you still use race to describe people! And what the fuck do you know about my prayer habits anyway? The good Lord is probably ashamed to have an asshole like you praying to him anyway, trying to tell me what I should and should not do! Well, fuck you!” she bellowed as she scratched at her face and arms, raising welts on the backs of her hands as her anger made her dig in deep with her nails.

  “Get out!” the man hissed, jerking his wheel to the left and pulling over a few blocks away from her home. “Heathen! Blasphemer! Jezebel!”

  “Your fucking mother!” Effin snarled, jerking the handle to the door of the tow truck and using her foot to kick the door open.

  “Repent, you evil spawn of Satan!” he shouted at her as she hopped out of the large cab of the oversized, flatbed truck.

  “You and the horse you rode in on!” she shouted back, slamming the door shut as hard as she could.

  The driver took off with a squeal of his tires, and Effin began the two-block walk to her home, snarling as she recalled her morning.

  First, her ceiling had fallen in, which was a surprise and a half, but that was not the worst of her problems. When she called the roofer who’d repaired the ceiling before she originally purchased the sixty-year-old federal house, she was told that he could be out sometime in the next week or two.

  When she argued about the time, he pointed out that he would rather deal with the man of the house instead of a hormonal woman. After calling the roofer everything but a child of God and swearing that she would find a civilized, non-Neanderthal roofer, she discovered he was the only one in the area who dealt with slate roofs like the one she had.

  So, she’d swallowed her pride, called him back, and tried not to cringe as he laughed and gave her a rough estimate for the size of her roof, if the warranty was not still valid -- the same warranty that he couldn’t seem to find on file.

  She was screwed.

  But she was still going on a date with a handsome hunk of a brother and the evening would be magical. Magical, dammit, because she had earned it!

  So pushing her anger aside -- besides, she had a copy of the warranty on file -- she washed her face with the wonderful soap from Monika and went to put on her shopping shoes! It was courtin’ time and she was going to look her best in order to be courted properly.

  But when she turned the key in her ignition, the engine wouldn’t turn over.

  She tried and tried, but the twelve-year-old Jeep would not start.

  Finally, she was forced to call AAA, and even after they arrived an hour later than they promised, they could not get the Jeep started. They wound up sending a tow truck that took her battered baby to a dealership -- thankfully only a mile or so away from her home.

  It took them fifteen minutes to tell her that her neutral ignition switch was busted and it was going to cost a whopping five hundred dollars to fix. But the good news was that they promised to have it done before two. Seeing that it was nearly eleven when she was leaving the shop, the timetable was a blessing.

  “Thank you so much,” she said with a sigh, shaking the mechanic’s hand. But instead of responding in kind, the very attractive man winced and asked her what was wrong with her face.

  “Nothing,” she snapped, shocked that the man would comment on her beauty. Hell, she knew she was no runway supermodel, but she was not that bad looking.

  But the man was looking at her weirdly and backing away from her, so she made her way to the ladies room and actually screamed at what she saw in the mirror.

  What had been her face earlier in the day was now a mass of swollen, red skin and patches of bumps. Even her lips were swelling at an alarming rate, making her resemble a Fat Albert cartoon character.

  “This is not happening,” she managed and turned sharply when there came a great banging on the door.

  She opened it to see the concerned face of the manager of the shop. The overweight, brown-skinned woman looked at her in pity.

  “Our tow guy will take you home,” she was informed. “You look like you are having a severe allergic reaction to something.”

  The only thing she could think of that would give her such a reaction was the soap that Monika brought her. The curse of the baby sister had struck again.

  And then she had to deal with the driver and his overly zealous Christian reborn attitude ...

  She pulled herself out of her musings as she realized she was standing in front of her house. She smiled -- well, as much as she could with lips swollen to the size of soup bowls -- and basked in the warmth that came with knowing that safety was at hand.

  She made her way to her house and immediately phoned her best friend Christa, and began her tale of woe as she searched through her cabinets for a bottle of Benadryl.

  “And to top it all off,” she added as she downed a few pills, paying no attention to the bright, pretty red nightlight that was emblazoned on the front of the bottle, “I still don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Chill, girl.” Christa laughed. “Go and look in your closet! I am sure that you bought something last week.”

  “Okay.” Effin sighed. “I’ll look, but if I can’t find anything, I’m calling you back in an hour.”

  “One hour, girl,” Christa agreed. “That is enough time for me to get my nails and toes done.”

  “Yeah,” grumbled Effin, looking at the ravages of her face. “You just have got to have pretty feet.”

  After her phone conversation, she schlepped her way up to her walk-in closet and began contemplating her choices. Then a slow grin spread across her face as she recalled that she and Christa had picked out a perfect outfit for her, and at half off, too!r />
  It was a stunning royal blue sheath that skimmed her figure and hugged all her curves in the right places. It took pounds off of her thighs, added inches to her bustline, and positively made her skin glow. She’d looked like royalty when she’d tried the dress on, drawn to it by the subtle beadwork that made her appear to be covered in sparkling fairy dust when the light hit it just so.

  She sighed, a grin on her swollen face as she resisted the urge to scratch, and dug deep into the back of her closet, into the “when I have a relationship” section. Edging aside silky peignoirs, sleazy teddies on their padded hangers, and scads of fantasy wear, she reached for the “Total You” garment bag and ... felt a note.

  “What the hell?” she muttered, pulling the bag out to see what she had grabbed. Had she left a receipt on the thing? She didn’t think so but ...

  The first thing she noticed was her sister’s handwriting.

  Squinting to read in the dim closet, Effin took a step back to better understand her sister’s spidery print.

  I saw this when I was borrowing the slinky spider priestess costume and couldn’t resist.

  Grant couldn’t resist either.

  Don’t worry about the stains on the knees and the splatters on the front. I understand seltzer water can wash out protein stains.

  Love you, Monika

  “Just because your name is Monika don’t mean you blow men in my blue dress!” Effin wailed, then screamed, “Eww!” She threw her beautiful, almost-perfect, one-of-a-kind dress back into her closet as she realized what the splatters had to be.

  “Why do you hate me so?” Effin railed, looking up toward the heavens, then changing her mind quickly. The way her day was going, lightning might just fry her ass, and then where would she be?

  Unable to pay for her new roof, unable to get her Jeep out of the shop, and fried too crisply to even contemplate wearing any of her fantasy outfits again.

  Wait. Her sister was wearing her fantasy outfits, complete with thong undies?

  “God, why me?” she wailed, racing to the kitchen for a huge contractor bag -- one of those garbage bags that was both heavy duty and hard to tear. She had some serious cleaning to do, after she called Christa so they could make a last-minute shopping trip. Maybe there was still something somewhere for her to buy and still make her date with the most handsome, well-rounded, put-together brother that she had ever heard of.

  Right after she sat down for a moment, she decided. Running around the plaster on her kitchen floor had obviously made her tired. She would just sit on the comfy bed for a moment, close her eyes, and ... zzzzzzzzz.

  Chapter Five

  Masataka rolled his eyes as he stared up at the heavens. It was beginning to rain again and that would mean the area beside the factories he called his home was going to get very muddy.

  “I really need to get a life,” the neko sighed, crawling into his makeshift home, an abandoned warehouse where he was protected from the rain and other elements.

  The small black cat yawned, showing off razor-sharp white teeth, before making his way to the master bedroom. His master bedroom consisted of stolen cashmere scarves and baby blankets set near an exhaust vent that connected to the other nearby warehouses.

  This building might be abandoned for the moment, but it still had heat and running water. The company probably was going to use it again, but until they did, Casa de la Ghetto was all his.

  He sank into an uneasy lump of flesh and fur as he tried to decipher the restlessness that had overtaken him.

  He knew that it couldn’t be an attack of horny. His blue balls had been covered in fur for, like, forever! Frankly, he had grown kind of accustomed to the underlying hum of sexual energy that had been with him throughout the years since he’d been forced to assume this form.

  It couldn’t be the storm; hell, it had been raining off and on for days. It had been another typical Baltimore weather pattern and was something that never really bothered him in the past.

  Could his biological clock be ticking? Did he want little kittens ... um, babies to call his own and take over his nest?

  He looked down at the baby blankets he was lying on and rolled his eyes. No. The sight of the little baby duckies and bears in diapers didn’t even cause him one hint of longing.

  So what was wrong with him?

  As he peered out of one dirty window, he saw the workers leaving the factories for the day.

  “Going to take the old ball and chain to dinner tonight,” one rough-looking worker said with a chuckle. “Going to get me some tonight, too. It’s Valentine’s Day; she has to put out. It’s an unspoken rule.”

  The man with him laughed and they parted ways, both making for their vehicles parked in the quickly emptying lot.

  “Valentine’s Day.” Masa sighed. “That may be what it is. How could I have missed that?”

  He pouted as much as his little kitty lips would allow and dropped his head onto his soft, pilfered bed linens.

  “This is so depressing,” he grumbled, then cut eyes at a plump brown mouse that had scurried out to stare at him. Before he could work up the energy or inclination to do as his cat body wished and pounce on the invader, he noticed a smaller gray mouse leaving the same hole. This mouse, the gray female, looked around, not noticing the predator staring at them, and nuzzled up to her mate, who squeaked affectionately at her.

  It was so damn cute, Masa thought ... as he ripped them limb from limb, tossing mouse guts all over his formerly pristine master bedroom.

  “Fuck that cutesy shit,” he growled, tossing the beheaded carcass out of his room and onto the cement floor below. “If I don’t get laid, nobody gets laid.”

  Maybe he was just horny.

  He purred as he licked the blood off his claws, waiting for the feeling of disquiet to leave. But it just got worse. And it had nothing to do with murdering the furry little pestilence that invaded his territory, though he thought that some small amount of guilt would be appropriate. No, the feeling of unease, of restlessness increased. He felt as if something were about to happen. The feeling built up in his chest, adding pressure around his heart, tightening his lungs until he felt that the whole warehouse was going to come tumbling down on him.

  He had to get out.

  Ignoring the rain and his comfortable bedding, Masa took off into the dimming day, hungering, searching for some unknown prey. He didn’t know what was driving him, but he knew it was important. And Masa always followed his instincts.

  Shaking his head at his own folly, he raced out into the rain, looking for something he could not name but driven toward it, all the same.

  Chapter Six

  It was the drool running down her chin that finally awoke Effin. It was a cold, wet feeling that pulled her out of her sleep faster than someone shouting fire. Groggy, she opened her eyes and absently wiped her chin, grimacing at the slimy feel of her own spit.

  Definitely a shower was the first order of business.

  But as she looked around her room and set her sights on her alarm clock, Effin let out a shriek of dismay. “It’s six-forty-five!”

  Then another thought hit her panicking mind. Christa was supposed to have come by to take her shopping!

  Effin stumbled to her feet and landed flat on her stomach. Gasping for breath, she untangled herself and raced down the stairs, her steps unsteady as the last of the drugs worked its way out of her system.

  When she got to the front door, there was a handwritten note tacked to the glass with a bit of gum.

  Came by and you didn’t answer you door. I assume you got a ride to the mall so I went to take a before-date nap.

  Lubs ya,

  Christa

  “No ... no ... no ... NO!” Effin slammed the door shut, tossing the note aside as she turned and raced back up the stairs.

  It was almost time for her date and she didn’t have anything to wear. She held in a sob at the injustice of it all. And there was no way she could wear her work clothing on a date. The busin
ess suits were as unfeminine as you could get and still look like a woman. There had to be something left!

  Diving back into her closet, Effin eyed the sad remains of her once proud costume collection, the only thing that could even have a hope or a prayer of passing as dress clothing.

  And that meant there was only one thing in the hall of horny fantasies that would pass.

  The Spider Princess dress.

  The Spider Princess was a costume she had bought a few Halloweens back and never had the courage to wear. It was extremely short and shot through with silver thread. The bodice was almost completely lace and left very little to the imagination. It was so tight she had to be careful what she ate or she would look like a hippo! Uncomfortable, true, but it was at least something that wouldn’t make her look like she was turning tricks for a living.

  Racing off to the shower, she was glad for once about her no nonsense hairstyle. A few strokes of a brush and her neatly shaved locks would fall into place.

  After a quick shower, where she nicked her underarms on a dull razor blade, she ducked into her bedroom for some black silk undies. Then it was time to pull on the stockings.

  The first pair of sheer, black silk stockings had a run.

  That was a common enough problem and the reason she bought the sheer black hose by the dozen.

  The next pair was shredded from top to toe.

  The third pair was too small, the fourth too big, the fifth too long.

  She was down to her sixth pair, which she eased on her feet ... just in time for a fingernail to snag and tear a run right down the front of her right leg. The seventh pair went on perfectly, and, holding her breath, Effin eased her Spider Princess dress over her head.

  It seemed to have shrunk since she’d last looked at it. The bottom of the dress barely touched the top of her thighs.

  Before, it had been mid-thigh, but this was just indecent! Her ass was hanging out! Effin turned toward her mirror, only to hear a tearing sound. Lo and behold, the seventh pair of stockings bit the dust.