Innuendo Turnabout

"What did you just say to me?"

The cab had already gone, and the rain that had been hanging over the city all night was beginning to fall. He had passed the point of no return, which meant total commitment to this, or a long, long walk home in the rain.

"Kitties."

"What?"

"I said I couldn't wait for you to show me those pretty kitties of yours."

"Uh-huh. Do you even remember their names?"

"Cleo and Andy. Right? Like the Shakespeare?"

"Good answer. You may get under the overhang. Now, please explain why, at this point in our night, the idea of my kitties has even crossed your mind."

Her arms crossed, and the clutch in her hand tapped an impatient tempo against her shoulder, while she stared him down.

Pause.

"What's your point?"

"What do you mean? I bring you back here, and you're thinking of that? My kitties? That's my point. And, in this argument, I have the moral high ground. I have the high points."

"Yes. Yes you do."

A stare nearly as cold as burgeoning rain shower was leveled at him.

Pause.

"I'm scared of them."

"Scared? Are you saying you've never even been able to pet a p***y cat?"

"I have? Lots of times?"

"But you're afraid of them, and that's why you wanted me to show you my kitties."

"Yes. Because if I know where they are, then I know they won't be able to pounce me."

"Don't be such a coward. I bet if I let you pet one, you could even make it purr."

"Couldn't. Deathly afraid. Enzymes and allergic reactions. I could end up dead, especially if I tried to pet the wrong one. Like a hostile one."

A smirk, formed at the corner of her mouth, turned into a tight, wolfish smile, on this owner of such a pretty pair of kitties, and her eyes shone with the knowledge she had him dead to rights.

She advanced two steps on him, entering his very personal space. Without even uncrossing her arms, she turned the clutch from an impatient metronome into a conversational weapon, tapping it firmly into his shoulder for commentary emphasis.

"Are you that afraid of being pounced on?"

"No."

Beat.

He risked speaking again.

"Wait. What are we talking about anymore?"

"Just get inside."

Withdrawing a key from the clutch, she unlocked the front door, and let him pass into her hallway for the first time that night. The imagery wasn't lost on her, but it might have been lost on him, while he tried at this point, most unironically, if he was going to be staying in or getting wet.

She stopped in the foyer, and looked at her profile in the wall mirror. Reaching up under her breasts with both hands, she adjusted herself to make sure that the points she had made were still way up firm and high for her next  tête-à-tête.

With a sly and growing grin, she purred her own self-approval before moving down the hallway to meet him.

"They are very pretty kitties, aren't they?"

Author's Note

Originally submitted to a flash fiction contest (defined as 500 - 1,500 words) back in February 2015 with the prompt requiring the phrase, "What did you just say to me?"

Word count is 517.

The entry was submitted under one of my pseudonyms, Jaime Mooreland.