It's Sunday mid-morning, the warm rays of the sun seep through the drawn curtains into the living room. I'm snuggled under my man, Stephen's embrace on our large grey couch as we watch our favorite TV show, Aliens From Pluto. Okay, I'm not concentrating on the show. I'm concentrating more on the blossoming feeling of being loved after getting beautifully used until I'm sore. 

With a cheeky smile, my gaze drifts from the TV to the hallway leading to our bedroom, my mind replaying the salacious deeds we engaged in this bright morning. Extremely fast, something dashes across the hallway, straight into the bedroom. I scoot up, startling Stephen . His strong hands hold me, lifting me from his arms onto the couch to have a look at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, checking me keenly.

"Did you see that?" I ask, pointing towards the hallway.

"See what?" His brows furrow in confusion.

"I don't know. I'm just going to check," I say, swinging my feet off the couch into my slippers.

As I walk towards the bedroom, I take note of a pitch black tail disappearing under the bed. It looks like a cat's tail. We do not own a cat. It must be from one of our neighbors across the street. I walk into the bedroom, determined to chase outside the straying cat.

Slowly, I lower to my knees and bend to look under the bed. My eyes almost ball out at the sight of the huge black cat with grey shining eyes that are staring directly into mine. I hoist myself on the nightstand beside our bed trying to take its presence in. Unbelievable. The cat doesn't seem bothered by my presence.

"Oh my gosh, Trevor! It's a cat!" I call out.

"A cat?" he asks sounding surprised and a little confused.

"Yes, it's a cat," I agree.

In no time, I hear him walking into the bedroom. My eyes are still glued to the cat that looks like he is so bored by my reaction. Fearlessly, it proceeds to curl up on the floor and scrutinize me.  Weird cat.

"Oh shit, you have a cut," he cusses as he walks towards me.

"No, I don't," I retort facing up to meet his eyes.

"Yes, you do," he counters in a very serious tone.

I do not have a cat. Sure I love them, but I wouldn't bring one to our house without informing him first.

"It's not mine," I grumble, bending again to take a look at the cat.

Its eyes lock with mine and I straight look up to meet better eyes. Those grey ones are a little scary and his dark ones are a little intense. Damn, he really thinks I have a cat.

"It's on your arm," he says but I ignore him and glance at the cat again.

Thank God its eyes are focused elsewhere. It bothers me that the cat is behaving as if nothing is happening, at all, literally. That's a little creepy coming from a cat.

"Damn it! It's under the bed," I look at him and point under the bed.

He gives me a 'babe-are-you-crazy' kind of look which makes me even more confused. I don't get why he isn't understanding what I'm saying.

"And it's wildly bleeding," he states, his eyes staring at my hand which is pointing under the bed.

Finally, he gets what I'm saying. However, I quickly take a look at the cat again just to make sure I'm not the one who missed out on the bleeding part.

"But, I can't see any blood," I state in confusion while checking out the cat thoroughly.

How did he even notice that it's bleeding when he was standing the whole time? He's the one I should be giving the babe-are-you-crazy look.

"Stay there, I'm getting the first aid kit," he instructs as he leaves the room.

Is he nuts? I don't get him. The cat is perfectly fine and not in need of the kit. He's nuts and he's going to drive me nuts just so we can twin. Great.

"For what?" I inquire as I stand from the marble floor. 

My knees feel a little numb from the kneeling. I struggle to stretch my legs out for flexibility and relaxation. About three minutes later, the door opens and he comes in with a kit. The cat purrs twice and I bend to look at it again.

"It just purred, did you hear that?" I ask him smiling as soon as I take my eyes off the cat.

"You are talking about an animal?" he asks in surprise as he bends to look under the bed.

"Yes," I answer grinning. "What else could I be talking about?" 

He places the kit on the bed.

"Baby, you have a cut," he points out trying to hide his smile.

"It's not mine," I pout and this time he laughs.

"On your arm and it's bleeding," he says pointing at my hand.

I turn to take a look. Damn, there is blood oozing from a cut on my bicep. Well, that's surprising considering I didn't even feel it in the first place.

"What? Where did it come from now? I didn't even feel the graze," I frown.

Trevor just smiles broadly and then points to the nightstand. Dang! My eyes land on the scissors hanging halfway inside and halfway outside the top drawer. I should have carefully put them away instead of just dumping them.

"Damn scissors," I grumble.

When my eyes shift back to Trevor's, his whole demeanor has changed to pissed. "Baby, why are the scissors sticking their legs outside a closed drawer?" he asks pointing at them.

A laugh escapes me which only makes him more pissed. It's hilarious to watch him get overly dramatic over a small issue.

"I guess I was just careless when putting them away," I respond trying harder not to keep on laughing.

"You think this is funny, baby? Look what they did to you," he says pointing at the cut on my hand.

"It's just a small cut," I counter.

"It doesn't matter how big or small it is. Next time you get a hold of crude or sharp objects, baby, make sure you carefully put them away. I don't want any harm coming your way," he says in a serious yet affectionate tone.

"I will. Sorry," I apologize sincerely.

A throaty growl escapes him before he pulls me to him and brushes his lips softly on mine.

"It's okay, baby. I got you," he says showing the kit to my face. "Come on and sit, I'll clean it." He leads me to the foot of the bed where he helps me sit. He cleans it and then covers it. "I thought you were crazy, baby. I didn't know you were talking about an animal. I guess I was so much concentrated on this cut." I chuckle.

"Well, and I was concentrated on the cat that I didn't even notice I was hurt. But it's no problem, we still got to understand each other in the end." He squeezes me to flush against him.

"I think his meowing helped us get each other," he breathes referring to the cat.

"I think so too. But whose is it?" I ask as I pet his jawline and watch him enjoy the little gesture with his eyes half-closed.

"I--" the doorbell goes off before he speaks. "Expecting anyone?" He asks.

"Nope," I state.

He pulls from me and walks to the closet where he fishes out a grey t-shirt, puts it on and walks out of the room muttering;

"Stay here, I'll get it."

"Okay," I agree.

I again bend to have a look at the cat. He is enjoying his sleep. It's like he has been sleeping here for a long time now because I don't get how he makes himself comfortable in our house and under our bed. I'm still curious as to how he has managed to escape our eyes for so long.

"Miss Sophia Sompet," I hear Trevor acknowledge from the front door.

Miss Sophia Sompet is an old woman of around sixty years of age. She stays at the house on the opposite right side. She lived there with her husband until he passed on two years ago. Now she lives with her cat. At least that is what I hear people say. They also say that she went crazy but speaking of the cat; I have never seen the damn creature and maybe, just maybe it's the one lying under our bed. Crap.

"Good morning, Trevor," she greets him cheerfully.

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" Trevor asks.

"Did you by chance see a black cat? I have been looking for it around the neighbourhood." She asks and I pop my head up. It's hers!

"Uh-um, yeah. It's actually in our bedroom," Trevor says softly.

"Oh, thank heavens. My husband got angry at him for having slept on his pillow and the poor thing felt bad and spend off," she explains. Now I know for sure she is crazy. The poor woman.

"You'll get him in a minute." He says before I hear him call, "Babe?"

"Uh, yes," I respond.

"Can you get Miss Sophia Sompet's cat?"

"Sure," I respond even though I don't know how I'll get him from under the bed.

I try to hold out my hand to him but he growls. I do it severally but with each time his growl is louder and angrier. I can't do this. I don't want to end up with claws on my face. Ah, she should have just given me his name. Maybe it would be easier to get him using it. I try getting him again but this time his growl is lethal. Oh, hell. She should get him herself.

"Sorry, Miss Sophia Sompet but he won't let me touch him," I say in a loud voice.

"Oh sweetie, let me get him if you don't mind," I hear her say to Trevor.

"Sure," Trevor agrees. I hear the door close as footsteps start towards the bedroom.

"Thank you," she mutters as the door opens. Trevor holds it for her and she enters the room.

"No problem, Miss Sophia Sompet, " Trevor assures her. "He's actually under the bed," he adds.

"Oh," she drops to her knees and peeps. The old woman is still strong and flexible.

Once she catches a glimpse of him, her face lightens as her smile widens impossibly. She must love her pet. Trevor and I stare as she calls to him. His name is Prince. I have no idea why she called him that but the name doesn't suit him. At all. Maybe, Dark Prince. Prince of Dark. She doesn't call on him more than thrice and he is crawling into her arms. "Thank heavens, you are safe," she murmurs as she pulls him closer to her bosom. "I'll head out," she says standing and looking at us.

"Have a good day, Miss Sophia Sompet," I say to her.

"You too guys. And many thanks," she says before she disappears into the hallway with Trevor following.

I take the kit with me to the kitchen where I place it in the topmost cabin just above the dishes sink and walk back to the living room. Trevor joins me a moment later with a wide smile on his face.

"The old woman is surely crazy," he mutters.

"She sure is. She has never accepted the fact that her husband is no more."

I feel sorry for her. I think I would also go crazy if-- I push the thought out of my head. I don't want to even think about any of it.

"But I am still trying to figure out if the cat has been sleeping under our bed or it was just hiding there. I'm confused. Literally,"he says.

"It did seem familiar with the sorroudings. But the fact that I have never seen it before makes the matter very confusing," I say trying yo figure it out and failing miserably. So I decide it's better to just forget about it.

"Never mind,"he huffs. "It's not a call for emergency."

"The damn cat is cute though," I wink at him.

"No! It's not. A black cat is not cute, baby. It's scary," he argues.

"Now you are just being mean," I pout and I see his wicked smile.

He says he likes it when I pout. I look adorable as he likes to put it.

"No, I'm not,"he says firmly as he pulls me on his laps.

"Yes, you are," I argue further.

"You are crazy," he tickles me making me laugh so hard until my cheeks and ribs can take it no more.

"I'm not crazy, but the whole morning has been," I manage to say after he stops tickling me.

"And it's yet to get even crazier," he says in a sexy rumble that has my sore parts aching again.

"Wh-" before I can say something he sweeps me up and carries me to the bedroom.

"Are you still sore?" He asks laying me on my back on the bed.

"Not sore enough to handle a little pleasure," I respond with an evil grin.

His face lights up with an evil grin that matches mine, making it clear to me what is to come. My Sunday is just about to get even better.

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