Christine knew damn good and well that nothing would have been done if she’d just placed a call—just like pretty much nothing was going to be done now. But it looked like a promise to call the Fensters and tell them to “behave” was the best she was going to get.
“You can keep the trap,” she told the Sheriff. “File it under evidence for the next time they do something nasty.”
Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the Sheriff’s office feeling angry and defeated. It seemed like nothing was ever going to be done about her awful neighbors, because Sheriff Wainright was too damn chicken-shit to even try.
TWENTY-FOUR
Roarn roamed around the small domicile for a time after Christine had left, exploring it thoroughly. It was an extension of the small, curvy female and he wanted to know all of her—even the place she lived.
Most of the rooms smelled of her, though there were a few sleeping chambers that carried faint whiffs of other humans. These scents were enough like Christine’s own that Roarn was certain they must be related to her. She had mentioned having children—maybe those were who he was smelling. But mostly it was just Christine and the scent of the feline pets she fed and housed.
But the cabin was small and there wasn’t much to keep him busy after he had smelled every room and then smelled all the different spices she kept in her food prep area cabinets for cooking—some of which were intriguingly different from anything he had ever tasted or smelled before. Roarn tried turning on the small TV in her bed chamber, but most of the programs didn’t make much sense to him.
He had no better luck with her bookcase, which was filled with books that were written in English. But though he was getting better and better at speaking the language, he had not yet learned to read and write it. They did have interesting covers though—many seemed to show a human man and woman together, clasping each other close or kissing or falling into each other’s arms. Many showed females whose clothing seemed to be falling off for some reason, which exposed much of their breasts.
Seeing these, Roarn couldn’t help remembering how he had sucked Christine’s breasts the night before while she stroked him to orgasm. Goddess, her little hands were so soft on his shaft! He had never been with a female before and hadn’t dreamed how good it would feel to touch her and let her touch him. He hoped when she came home, they could kiss again and maybe even do more…
Thinking of the curvy Mature Elite, Roarn remembered again all that she had done for him. He just wished there was some way he could repay her. After all, he was staying in her domicile and eating her food—it went against his nature to be lazy and not give her anything in return.
Then he remembered the broken piece of equipment on the little cabin’s back porch. She had called it a “water heater” and said it was very expensive to fix or replace. Roarn had never seen such machinery before, but he was extremely good with his hands. In fact, back before the Fury had consumed him whole, he had been a mechanic by trade, aboard the Monstrum Mother Ship.
Of course, the enormous engines of the mighty ship couldn’t be more different from the rusty cylinder which heated Christine’s water, but they were both still mechanical devices and the heater didn’t look very complicated.
Maybe I could fix it for her, he thought hopefully. At any rate, he doubted he could make it any worse.
He stepped out onto the back porch, making certain no one was outside first, and went to have a look at the water heater. Some of the smaller felines were basking in the pale winter sunshine. They watched with interest, their tails flicking, as Roarn pulled open the wooden door and began examining the malfunctioning water heater.
After a moment, he saw what was wrong and how to fix it. He didn’t have the words for the parts he was seeing, but he knew instinctively what to do to make them work again.
Picking up some of the tools that were lying to one side of the heater, he got to work. It was a dirty job and he was getting grease and rust on his fur but Roarn didn’t mind. It felt good to work with his hands again—good to fix something that was broken and make it whole, just as Christine was making him whole.
He was deep into the repair when he heard the sound of human male voices muttering indistinctly from the ridge above Christine’s cabin.
It must be the anus neighbors she was talking about!
Roarn looked up anxiously, but there was a thick screen of bushes and trees at the edge of the ridge—he couldn’t see anyone which made him fairly certain he couldn’t be seen either. Still, he stayed on the alert. The next moment, he heard the sound of a motor starting and then, with a roar, a big black vehicle came down the hill.