A Kitten Called Cat

Chapter Four - More Questions Than Answers

I woke to find myself in bed - my own bed. That was a relief. My head felt as if it was full of a mixture of cotton wool and ground glass and my bladder felt as if it was about to embarrass me.

I managed to stumble through to the bathroom. The toilet solved one of the problems and splashing water onto my face helped a little bit with the other.

It was only as I was stumbling back that I realised that I was wearing the polo shirt that he had lent me... the polo shirt and nothing else.

The lovely dress was... I checked... neatly hanging in the cupboard and my underwear was... horror... in the small wicker laundry basket in the corner of the shower room.

That settled it. I might just about have managed to hang that dress up when I was drunk but, drunk or sober, there was no way that my knickers would ever... ever have ended up anywhere but on the floor.

I was back in bed, trying to check whether everything was in order down below, when he knocked on the door and came in without waiting for a reply. This morning he was wearing a different suit, just as smart as the other one but this one was shading towards a dark blue rather than the deep grey-black of the day before. His shirt was striped in blue and white, the same shade of blue as his suit, of course, and his tie was a shiny sort of silver grey. Presumably he was off to work.

"What did you do to me last night?" I hissed.

He looked me straight in the eye for several seconds before answering. "Kitten, I strongly resent your implication that I would 'do' anything, in that sense, when you were incapacitated."

He continued to hold my eye for several seconds until at last he dragged the apology out of me. I dropped my head and murmured, "I'm sorry," to the bedclothes.

"You will look at me when you apologise, Kitten," he told me firmly.

I could tell I was in danger of receiving the full force of Mr Grumpy and my head was much too fuzzy and painful for that sort of thing so I looked him in the eye and repeated my apology properly.

"I do, however, appreciate your concerns," he told me when I had finished. "Would you like to know what happened last night?"

"Yes please." I was having difficulty meeting his eye but I was pretty sure that he wasn't going to let me look away.

"We were chatting quite comfortably in the living room when suddenly, without any noticeable warning, you keeled over. I must admit that I hadn't noticed quite how drunk you were getting or I would have stopped you drinking much earlier."

"I'm not really used to drinking wine," I explained. "In fact, I'm not really used to drinking much of anything."

"I shall bear that in mind in future," he reassured me.

He paused for a moment then carried on. "So I carried you back here and helped you out of your dress because I didn't think you ought to sleep in that. I went over to hang it up for you but when I turned back, I found that you had chosen to remove all your underwear! That was a surprise!"

I turned bright red at that point.

"A very pleasant surprise, mind you!"

I turned an even brighter shade of red.

"So I helped you into the polo shirt - which, incidentally, I found on the floor..." he left this short pause to let me know what he thought about my whole floordrobe way of life... "And put your used underwear in the laundry basket. Then I helped you to brush your teeth and encouraged you to use the toilet...

I died, a little bit, inside.

"You didn't look as if you were going to be sick so I put you to bed. There were some slurred words about spanking but I ignored them because they seemed to involve what you wanted me to do to you and also because I suspected that some of them might have been distinctly unladylike. Then I gave you a kiss and left you to sleep it off."