“We’ll sit in the back,” the boss said, starting to put me back down on my feet. I figured I’d make a run for it once he let go but he immediately started trying to push me into a car. I held my hands either side of the door frame so he couldn’t get me inside, and I thought that would work fine, because I didn’t expect him to suddenly tickle my sides. The moment I yelped and flinched, letting go of the car, he shoved me in.

I scrambled to the other side when he got in after me. In the second it took my brain to think about trying to open the door, the driver had already pressed a button activating the child locks. I was curled up and pressing myself against the door to be as far away from the man sitting next to me as possible, then I slowly half-turned my head to glare at him.

Naturally, he was delighted, and covered his mouth again to hide the grin.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he coaxed. “Here, come sit on my lap,” he said, patting his thighs. “If you do, I’ll give you a treat.”

“I don’t want it!” I declared, turning back away from him.

“Sure you do.” He grabbed my waist and effortlessly hauled me over, planting me on his lap and squeezing his arms around me in a hug. I flailed in vain for a minute while making noises somewhere between a groan and a whine before finally giving up. I was quiet for a little while as he continued holding and stroking me.

“Well, I’m sitting on your lap,” I grumbled. “So where’s my treat?” I turned to look at him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and the massive smile he had was practically breaking his face.

“Argh, seriously!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling. “Too cute!” With that, he clasped my face and planted a big fat one on me. When he tried to force his tongue into my mouth I promptly bit it.

I don’t remember much about the rest of that drive, but it was mostly more stress. He wouldn’t stop holding onto me and I went from struggling to giving up every few minutes. He seemed happy either way.

When the car finally stopped, we were in an underground parking garage.

I kind of felt like I might get killed there. That thought didn’t bother me much in itself, but I would be very upset if I died without having even smoked a single one of the cigarettes I just bought. I must have made some sort of face while thinking about that, since the guy holding me looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a gentle smile. While I mulled over my answer, the driver made his way out and around the car to open the door for us.

“I want a smoke,” I said eventually.

“Oh, me too!” he said. “Will you have one, Frank?” he asked the driver, who took a look at his watch before answering.

“Sure.”

With that decided, we got out of the car, but he was keeping a secure hold of my wrist so I couldn’t run off. That made it a bit of an ordeal to open my packet, so I just sighed and ripped into it messily.

Frank lit the boss’s cigarette and then his own, before offering the light to me. I made and maintained eye contact with him as I took out my own lighter and used that instead.

“Oh, he’s just your type,” Frank said matter-of-factly, pocketing his lighter. There was no humour in his voice, but he didn’t sound angry either.

“Right? Way too cute!” the boss declared, trying to pull my hand to his mouth to kiss, but I pulled it away.

Partly to be difficult and partly just on instinct, I sat down on the floor. The boss burst out laughing at that before promptly joining me down there. He let go of my wrist only to immediately start patting my head. I furrowed my brow, but didn’t make any other protest, and just quietly kept smoking. Frank stayed standing.

Once we all finished, Frank got back in the car and drove off.

“Up we get,” the boss said, scooping me up into his arms, once again, like a baby, and walking towards an elevator. I made a bit of a huff, which he enjoyed, but I didn’t really think I had a good chance of escaping. “Ah, I was going to sleep early tonight since I don’t have any paperwork, but now I want to stay up all night playing with you!” I dread to think what “playing with me” would entail.

“No. I’m tired,” I told him resolutely.

“That cold attitude is just like her! Oh man, I can’t get enough of it!” He then rained a flurry of kisses down upon my forehead.

“… Who’s ‘her’?” I asked.

“Oh, did that make you jealous? I’m sorry!” he giggled. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

What an annoying guy.

“Forget it then,” I snapped coldly.

“I can’t forget it! I want you to like me, so I have to answer a question if you ask. She’s my old cat.”

“Your cat?”

“Yeah, she died a few years ago, but she was the best.” He sounded happy enough, and was even smiling, but I couldn’t help feeling some sort of sadness from him. “You look just like her!” he said, right when I was about to try pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“How can a person look like a cat?”

“Wait, wait, I’ll show you a picture,” he told me as he opened a door with a pin-code . I had been paying limited attention to where he was taking me before that because I didn’t care much.

Once inside the place I realised that when he said he would show me a “picture” he meant “an enormous oil painting taking up half a wall”.

It was really skirting the line between “impressive” and “obscene” but I guess, just artistically speaking, the painting looked nice. The cat was black but had a white patch around one eye and ear. I then realised why he said I looked like her. I have vitiligo, and there’s a large patch of it around the same eye as the cat’s. Also my hair is black.

Of all the things I’d been compared to in my life because of my skin, this handsome and clearly adored cat was by no means the worst, but getting compared to animals is still uncomfortable.

“I see,” I said flatly. The boss sighed wistfully.

“You know, if I had a painting of you next to it, that would be just amazing.”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“Right, right.” He held up his hands apologetically. “I’m going to shower before bed, would you like one?”

“In the morning,” I answered, before he could say anything creepy like asking me to shower with him. He left after that.

I was still drunk enough to not bother questioning why I was spending the night with this guy who had essentially kidnapped me, but I was sobering up enough to wish I had more alcohol.

I started walking around the room (perhaps in search of alcohol) and looking at all the other odd things he had around the place besides that painting. It was mostly filled with cat themed trinkets and toys, but there was an almost equal amount of miscellaneous, making it hard to tell if he actually had a coherent interest besides cats.

Some of it looked expensive, and some seemed like tacky stuff you could win from an arcade claw machine. It would have probably looked like a weird hoarder nest if everything was piled up on the floor in a mess, but all the items were displayed with care. All the ceramic figures and photo frames were polished, and the plush toys didn’t look dusty or neglected. I don’t know if you call that meticulous or just obsessive, but it looked to me like a cross between a charity shop and a small child’s bedroom.

It seemed to fit his personality, but his appearance offset it all. The boss looked like an obvious thug. For all the smiling and blushing he’d done, it couldn’t take away the deep frown line between his brows or the nasty scar on his eyebrow and lip. He was a big guy with a scary face and an obviously dangerous line of work, but the way he acted made it hard to take that seriously.

I groaned and sat down on one of the large black couches strewn about.

I spaced out for a few minutes, and then the boss was back. “Let’s go to bed,” he said softly, stroking my cheek. I slapped his hand away.

“I’m fine here.”

“Okay, okay, you can come in after I’m asleep if you’re shy,” he teased sweetly. “That’s what she used to do, too. It’s that room over there,” he said, pointing to one of the doors. I looked away from him and pouted, wondering what sort of twisted desperation I’d need to feel in order to crawl into bed with some sleeping stranger.

Turns out that desperation was being cold.

After what felt like a few hours of trying to sleep on the settee and use my cardigan as a blanket, I eventually gave up and walked to the door he’d pointed out.

I made sure to open it as quietly as possible, and left it slightly ajar when I walked in, so I could escape quickly if needed.

My brain was a total haze by then, more from being deliriously tired than drunk. I’d already been awake for about thirty hours because my lifestyle is garbage and sleep-cycle non-existent. Since getting shoved in that car I’d basically just thought “this may as well happen” so there was no need to get worried about the night ending this way… probably.

The boss was fast asleep in the middle of a double bed, making it hard to approach from either side. That’s why I chose to crawl under the covers from the foot of the bed instead. I wiggled my way under the thick duvet and tried to avoid his feet and legs as I curled up into a ball, but once I’d finally made myself comfortable and thought “mission accomplished” a pair of big hands hooked under my armpits and pulled me up until I was laying on top of the boss.

“That’s better,” he whispered, half asleep. “Good cat.”

“I’m not a cat,” I protested, though I was whispering as well so there wasn’t much weight with the words. I squirmed but he was holding me tightly against him so much that I could feel his breathing and heartbeat through his chest.

“My cat… You’ll be my new cat,” he said, slightly opening his eyes and looking at me. I turned my head down into his chest to avoid eye contact.

“Whatever.”

“Yes, yes, good boy, good boy,” he cooed in baby-talk, stroking my head. “What a good boy. Shall I give you a treat?”

“Only if the treat is to let me sleep.” I could feel him laughing.

“Okay, but give me a kiss first.”

“No.”

“That coldness really is the best.” He seemed ecstatic. “It makes me want to kiss you even more.”

“Fine then,” I groaned, placing a light kiss on his chest, hoping that would end this. He stopped moving then, but all his muscles tensed. When I laid my head back against him I could hear the thundering flutter his heart was making. “Now let me sleep,” I ordered, closing my eyes.

The boss sucked in a very long deep breath before quietly saying “okay,” and then sighing it all out again.

To his word, he didn’t disturb me again that night. But that was the last night I got a free-pass. My life as his cat, which I honestly don’t think I ever formally agreed to in the first place, just got more outrageous from then on.