Chapter 42: Pussycat Claws

"Why didn't she drive down with Mom and Dad?" asked a perplexed Roger sitting in the passenger seat as Joe drove him to the airport.

"Hunh? Oh. We'll ask," Joe responded, attempting befuddlement. "So how's Ravenous shaping up?"

Roger shrugged. "I wanted it this weekend, you know Saturday, but everyone had family events and ... We're sending out ads at the beginning of the week for next weekend. Jerry wants to make it a one night thing, but lasting like twenty-four hours."

"You can't last that long."

"No shit. Tim and Jill have the first shift until midnight and Allison and I take over."

"Jill is..."

"Allison's twin. You remember Tad?"

"The giant? You used to get high with him right?"

"Back in high school, yeah. He's my supplier or connection. Tad wants to bring the stuff down and play bouncer."

"So you'll have to front him the money."

"I know there's a risk. There's always a risk. With Lefty, you look into his beady eyes and see a remorseless killer. Jerry plays it differently, casual and cool, but same results if Tad decided to fuck with us. Jerry's scary in a whole other level, more seductive rather than forceful. But Tad's smart enough to know he's got a good thing going. He used to dig the raves I threw together. This one will blow his socks off. So he's profiting and having fun. He's a greedy son of a bitch, and has a hard time finding anything fun about life, so he'll play it straight so to speak. Besides Jerry promised him a freebee with one of his hookers if Tad can't score with one of the young waifs. He likes them small and skinny and barely high school age."

"That's fucked up. I mean he'd crush the poor girl and if he's your age..."

"Yeah. Tad's an asshole."

"He better keep away from Margie."

"Margie's way too smart for him. Her brain's too old. The toxic combination of naïveté and rebelliousness, fuck an older guy who sells drugs as a fuck you to mom and dad, that's the type for old Tad. It's like he sets a trap, a pussy trap, with marijuana, speed, cocaine or Ecstasy, whatever the kid's got an urge for, as bait."

"Jesus, Roger, some friend."

"We stopped being friends a long time ago. Business associates only. Even that I tried to end, but Lefty brought me back and Jerry's just as opportunistic. I'd rather find product in Chicago, but no one's appeared with the quality of Tad's supplier."

"Seems weird."

"The man has good shit. Where he gets it from ... I wish I could find out. He's got the perfect front, but selling quantity always puts one in a precarious position. To find his source using whatever means necessary would be like killing the goose laying golden eggs. Lefty knew that and Jerry knows it. So Tad stays in the loop and I get an intimidating bouncer if nothing else."

Parking in the airport short term garage, Joe and Roger headed for the luggage pick up belts searching for a flight from the Twin Cities on Delta, formerly Northwest unloading onto it. Joe found the flight number listed above the luggage chute.

"Wait here. I forgot something," Joe informed his brother vaguely and took off.

Ten minutes of scanning through the constant flow streaming from the secure exits of the terminal, looking for a tall, lanky, pretty brunette, his older sister, ended when the most unexpected face emerged from the crowd, inches lower than his sisters, with light blonde hair and an angelic face. Roger remembered Joe's choice of words. "My sister," Joe had said. "Not our sister." Roger grinned ridiculously wide. His eyes pooled. His arms spread. Carol entered them.

"You said you couldn't make it," Roger muttered into the ear of his love.

"I lied. Mad?"

Roger chuckled and hugged her tight. They kissed. The bustling world stopped existing.

"Where's Joe?" she asked.

"Who cares?"

"Thanks brother," said a smiling Joe standing beside him. He leaned down and kissed Carol's cheek. "Hey sis."

"Hey Bro."

"I'll collect your bag."

"It's like all the others except for the..."

"Kermit patch," the brothers exclaimed simultaneously. For a down to earth young woman, Carol never outgrew her adoration for the green puppet. "Rainbow Connection," remained her favorite song, even sung by Willie Nelson. "It Ain't Easy Being Green," came in a close second.

"You guys head to the Beau Bête. Take the back seat for all I care." Joe tossed Roger the car keys.

Choked up and teary eyed, Roger could only nod. He placed her shoulder bag on his left shoulder, his right arm surrounding Carol's shoulders. Her arm draped across his waist as they walked to the car as one.

Joe stowed Carol's luggage beside her carry on bag in the open trunk and sat in the driver's seat. Roger handed him his keys. Joe chuckled at the smeared lipstick and the love struck gaze the two shared.

"How have you been Joe?"

"Great. I just got a major promotion and my own office and came into a shitload of money."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

"Long story."

"Maybe later then," she said. They chuckled. The lovers kissed. Between kisses they talked quietly about wishing she could stay.

"I'll drive you home," Roger suddenly decided.

"But I have a return ticket."

"So you'd rather fly alone in the little plastic seat than cuddled up with me?"

"Of course not, but I paid ... Never mind. Okay. Sounds wonderful. How long can you stay?"

"Until Friday as a matter of fact."

"Really!"

"What about Ravenous?" asked Joe.

"Everything's in place already. What's not, I can have Tim deal with. He hires the DJ and the lighting guy. I won't be missed."

"What about advertising?"

"Same thing. I'll be doing the internet work and that I can do anywhere. As far as fliers, Tim and Allison and Jill planned on tacking them up with me. They'll just have to spread out more."

"Maybe Marta could tack some up when she posts ads for her dance and exercise classes."

"Good idea."

Carol leaned forward. "I can't wait to meet the lucky lady that grabbed you up."

"I'm the lucky one."

"No shit, Bro."

"Roger!"

"He's right Carol. She's amazing."

"So are you Joe."

"Thanks Sis. And back at you."

"Twenty fold from me," murmured Roger, returning her to his arms and kissing. The rest of the way, about twenty minutes, they said nothing, but sighed and moaned as they caressed places wanting caresses. Clothes prevented direct fondling except for Carol's breasts. Opening her shirt to her belly, Roger sent fingers to push through the tight barricade of her bra.

"May I?" he whispered. Carol nodded. The clasp pinched and released with well practiced agility. One of Carol's hands disappeared inside her shirt, reemerging soon afterward as the bra threaded out her other shirtsleeve. Palming her nipple as he kneaded her soft breast, his mouth traversed from lips to ear to neck to chest to breast and at last to her rigid nipple.

"Oh, mmm, ah," moaned Carol. Roger knew her sensitivities.

"Wow," commented Carol, soon to be a familiar sentiment as family saw the large wooden house for the first time.

Joe tried the door. Unlocked, he opened it and heard a commotion. "Hello?" he yelled.

Marta dressed in a camisole and a long robe rushed to the door. "Just in time for madness. You must be Carol. You're cute. I'm Marta."

"You're beautiful."

"Thanks. Joe, would you take Carol's bags to Roger's room?" Joe nodded. The other two started following him. "Just a second guys. We have an issue here with someone you know, Roger. Denise decided to pay us a visit."

"Shit."

"Come on. Let's face the music, shall we? But first..." Marta opened her arms and embraced Carol. "Welcome Carol."

"Thanks." Carol asked tentatively when their bodies moved apart, "Who's Denise?"

"And the man whore lives here too!" screamed a not so beautiful Denise.

"Shit," mumbled Roger.

"Do you know who this man is?" screamed Denise at Carol. Roger's arm draped around Carol's shoulder revealing her status to him.

"You mean him being a man whore? Yep. What's it to you?"

"I bought him for a night. Him and the dyke."

"Why'd you have to buy him?" asked Carol. Everyone but Denise and Roger laughed.

"I ... I didn't. My ... ex-fiancé bought him with the..." seethed Denise, at least quieter.

"The dyke. Is he gay?"

"No."

"So he bought them for you?"

"For us."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Uhm ... He didn't tell me he knew her and..."

" ... me," Marianne interrupted. "Hi, I'm Marianne. Welcome." Like Marta, she embraced the cute lady. "Come sit with us." She took Carol's hand and led her to the dining room. "Sit."

"I'm Margie," said Margie, leaning over Carol and kissing her cheek. "I'm glad you're here. Can I get you anything?" Like all the rest of the harem she wore nightwear and a robe. "Could we spare another bottle of Mums, Marta?"

"Why not?"

"I'll get it!" Margie proclaimed and darted away.

Carol looked at the head of the table where a man in his forties, slouched and sad and less handsome and rigid than usual smiled sadly at her. "Harold Maguire. I am ... was ... still am I guess the owner of this humble abode."

"Hardly," smiled Carol. "It's a lovely house."

"Thanks."

"Jesus Fucking Christ! You're all fucking ignoring me," screamed Denise

Handing the champagne bottle and a couple glasses to Joe, Margie walked up to Denise. "Chill, former future mother-in-law and present clever sister. Come on. Sit with us. Joe?"

Popping the cork, he poured the elixir into Carol's fluted glass with a thank you from her and placed the second glass in front of Denise and filled it.

"Let me take your jacket," requested Margie. Denise sloughed off the tasteful and expensive black leather.

"I'll hang it up," Marianne volunteered.

"Drink up Pussycat," Mary suggested.

Starting with daggers, Denise's stare softened. "You're so beautiful."

"Thanks. You too, usually. This is my love, L."

L saying hi to both Denise and Carol clued Mary in to her momentary rudeness. "I'm sorry Carol. I'm Mary, the dyke. Oh hell, just a second Pussycat." Mary stood and circled the table and crouched and hugged and kissed Carol on the cheek. "Welcome."

"Thanks."

"I'll get to you later," smiled L. "I'm second rung here anyway."

"Bullshit," said Marianne.

"Anyway, welcome."

"Thanks."

"Okay Denise," Margie began.

"What's this Pussycat shit?" Denise asked.

"Uhm, you can blame me," Margie responded. "I once described you as a cat with claws pissing and marking your territory. When I barged in..."

"My claws extended," sighed Denise.

"Did you hear what happened after you got daddy dearest to give his daughter the boot?" asked Marta.

"Uhm..."

"I may have hated you," spoke Margie carefully. "I may still hate you. But I'm not going to throw that shit at you."

"What shit?"

"Are you sure, Little One?" asked Marta.

"Yes Marta. It's about time I take responsibility for making ridiculously stupid choices."

"You never told her?" Marta asked Harold.

"Same reason," he replied simply, smiling sadly at his daughter who nodded her head.

"Jesus, is this some sort of secret society? Can I join?" Denise asked sarcastically.

Everyone's face eventually turned to Joe, Denise's and Carol's the last.

The harem wondered why he turned to Carol and asked her, "What do you think of Denise?"

"Well, she's quite beautiful and extremely pissed off."

"What about Roger fucking her?"

"I don't blame him. If I was a man, I'd fuck her if she wanted. But why would she pay for it?"

"I paid for it," said Harold. "I..." He looked at Mary and Marianne. "I'm sorry Denise. I'm a weak man. It has to do with this house. Margie's friends..."

"We needed the house," explained Marianne. "We seduced Harold and got it, Mary and me."

"No Marianne. I mean yes, you seduced me, brilliantly in fact. But ... I'd have given this place to Margie. She needed a home and a family. She has it here. I love you for bringing it to her."

"But you fucked them," roared Denise.

"Can you blame me?"

"No," she quieted. "But Marianne's so average..."

"Don't judge a book by its cover my dear," Harold proverbialized. "Between the two of them, as beautiful as Mary is on the outside..."

" ... and sexy," Denise interrupted.

" ... and sexy, it's Marianne who I..."

"You're in love with her? She's so plain compared to ... Fuck!"

Margie suddenly reared back and slapped Denise hard. "Goddamnit you stupid bitch, you haven't an ounce of empathy or compassion do you? Joe? Who of all of us has the most beautiful soul?"

"Do I have to answer that? A soul is a difficult concept to visualize so..."