Royal Secrets

I have something to confess.

Today I did something bad.

I feel a little dirty, honestly.

But I think it’s just because I thought I wouldn’t get caught. And it was so good, and he was so warm, and made me feel loved.

It started off innocently enough. Just a few shy looks. A few furtive glances, and finally, eye contact. We both looked away quickly. The day progressed and we couldn’t help but be in the same room. I told you about my icebox, aka “the office.” (Which, by the way, had NO heat, today. None. Heat died. Kaput. Did not fonctionia.) Anyway…. The day wore on, and somehow, my hand ended up kinda grazing his back slightly. I felt him pause. I couldn’t resist; I wanted just a little more. It was casual touching, at first, almost accidental. But once we were alone with no distractions (Kanga and Tulip were out dealing with the broken heater) it quickly led to heavy petting.

I know he enjoyed it, too. But it was all over too quickly. A torrid love affair, both longing for more but knowing it couldn’t work. We heard Tulip coming back down the stairs and he ran out of the room. I tried to act like nothing happened. I stood out in the sub-zero wind after work, trying to air out my clothes, to get rid of any trace of him.

But as soon as I got home, I knew I was busted. Tatum came running up to me, as he usually does, head-butted my ankle and sneezed. A hair from a cat that actually has fur had gotten up his nose. He gave me a horrified, knowing look, and sulked away. I felt so bad. I didn’t mean to cheat on him, it just happened. The Funasaurus assures me he’ll get over it.

I’m not so sure.

I *just* finished cleaning up two piles of kitty puke. Neither of my cats have ever puked before. (See "cats that actually have hair" comment, above.) I think he’s pissed. In a, doesn’t-your-white-quilt-need-some-more-stale-kitty-food-vomit-on-it?-way.

However. I am not the only one with a dirty little secret, which is not really, so much, any longer a secret.

At one point this afternoon, I needed a form. So I broke the icicles off of my fingers and went to look for one on Tulip’s desk, when all of a sudden, my right calf was having an orgasm. Having never experienced such a thing before, I went looking for this mysterious localized climax inducer.

Ho ho.

Turns out, Miss Tulip has a SPACE HEATER.

That’s right. I am freezing my ass off in a basement in a house that has no heat on a day where the temperature peaked at six degrees. Yeah. That’s right. Fahrenheit. Peaked. At 6. As in, five more than ONE FRICKIN’ DEGREE.

And ol’ Tulip, who can’t be bothered to turn the heat up, has a climax-inducing heat machine.

It’s ON.

I’m going to tell Tatum she’s the one who set me up with that other cat. Maybe he’ll go puke on her space heater.