Three Meows (Monsters For Her)

Chapter Twenty-Two

W e were on a holiday trip, that’s true, but a writer’s life was built upon a routine, so Elijah endeavored to find the time for writing whether we were on the road or in my childhood home. Today, I found him by the window overlooking the winter garden. It was a beautiful feat of landscaping and proof of two decades of love poured into making a rich and interesting mix of plants, shrubs, and trees that could not only survive the cold months but thrived during them.

“Do you like it?” I asked when Elijah stopped typing furiously and kept gazing out of the window instead.

He startled, and I worried I disrupted the thinking part of his work, but the smile he turned in my direction was inviting.

“It helps to have something to look at. Trees and plants, birds, and squirrels… it’s perfect because there’s nothing I really need to pay attention to, but at the same time you get enough movement, unpredictability, life, to make it stimulating,” Elijah explained.

“So, your brain goes brrr when you look at plants?” I teased. “How come you don’t have any at home?”

Elijah winced.

“I gave the collection from my previous flat to one of my friends. There’s no use trying to shuffle fragile plants over state lines… And we didn’t spend long enough in the flat next to yours for me to start rebuilding my collection.”

“That I can get, but you moved in weeks ago. Surely we should have at least a cactus by now.”

“There’s four of us in a small flat… you and Chester are always fighting for space for your projects…” Elijah bit his lip. “I didn’t want to get in the way with something as superfluous as plants.”

I stared at him in disbelief tinged with resignation. Of course he tried to make himself small, to take as little space as possible, to not inconvenience me. I wanted to get my hands on the people who taught him his own needs didn’t matter and squeeze .

Instead, I decided to face a matter that I had been avoiding, all for Elijah. I wasn’t above putting his needs above my own.

“I want to show you a place that is special to me,” I said and extended my hand. “Will you follow me?”

Elijah blinked but nodded, saved his draft, and shut down his laptop.

“Bring the laptop with you,” I said as he stood up.

After we donned our boots and coats I led him outside, past the winter garden, down the cobblestone road, and to the towering structure of the greenhouse.

Each step I took towards it was heavy, but I grit my teeth.

He’s worth it , I said to myself.

I let Elijah into the greenhouse and saw the awe on his face.

While the winter garden was beautiful, it contained mostly shades of green, some blue, and only a few pops of color. In stark contrast, the inside of the greenhouse was alive with a rainbow of blooms. Elijah staggered forward, his eyes wide, amazement spreading across his face as he looked from one plant to another. Purple flowers, red fruits — it was a feast for the senses. Even the green here was different.

In the winter garden, the green hues were muted, bluish, fading into brown… But here, sometimes the green was so vivid it seemed almost surreal — the kind of rich, saturated color you’d expect in a painting or a piece of neon plastic rather than real life.

“My mother created this garden,” I said softly.

Elijah glanced at me.

“Aren’t those plants, like, exotic? I don’t think I’ve seen many of them grown in the States.”

“You’re right,” I replied. “This section contains plants that need very specific conditions to survive.”

He nodded, taking in the sprawling greenery around him. “It almost looks fake,” he murmured.

“This greenhouse is a feat of engineering. Look up.” I gestured toward the ceiling. “There are special lights to provide enough sun during winter, and climate controls regulate the moisture in the air. Sprinklers and irrigation systems keep everything hydrated. There’s even equipment to measure CO2 levels. Thanks to all this, you can even find tropical plants here.”

I waved him deeper into the glass-covered space, and he followed eagerly. I swear there was a bounce in his step as he followed after me like an eager puppy. His excitement reminded me of my younger self, learning about plants from my mother. For a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the memory wash over me.

When I opened them again I led Elijah to the section with desert plants to stand in front of a collection of succulents and cacti. Their shapes and textures were mesmerizing — spiky, plump, smooth, and sharp. Big and small.

Elijah’s eyes widened as he spotted the biggest cactus in the room, its towering spines reached almost to the ceiling.

“I don’t think we have space for something that big in our flat,” he teased.

“You’re right, we don’t,” I agreed with a laugh. “But look here.” I pointed to the base of the cactus, where smaller plants were arranged in an intricate display. The terrain was tiered, peppered with sand, gravel, large stones, and tiny pebbles to create an illusion of a more natural space.

“Aww, cute little ones,” Elijah cooed at the plant life as one would at a kitten.

“See?” I said. “There are plenty of smaller ones — small enough to fit on a windowsill. You could take one of these. Or ten,” I added with a wink.

Elijah stammered. “I couldn’t! I mean… I could just buy some cacti from Walmart or something.”

I stared at him, aghast.

“Absolutely not. You have a chance to get your plants from a garden created by a renowned horticulturist and you want to settle for Walmart instead?” I crossed my arms. “That’s it. You’re getting twenty .”

“Ten is enough!” he protested, his voice rising in alarm.

I turned away, hiding a smirk. He didn’t realize he’d already lost the battle when he started bargaining.

“Here’s the deal,” I said. “Pick at least one cactus or succulent now, and we’ll negotiate about the rest later.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, clearly relieved.

I watched as he crouched to examine the display. He hesitated between a plump, stone-like succulent that looked suspiciously like butt cheeks, and a small cactus with a vivid red flower. Whichever one he chose, I planned to grab both.

In the end, the blooming cactus was his pick. I led him further into the greenhouse, knowing the fun had only just begun. These were only two sections of the greenhouse and the rest contained many wonders.

We spent nearly an hour wandering through the massive space. Elijah ran his fingers over delicate petals, his eyes wide as he admired the vivid colors of berries and blooms.

This place felt timeless — not just because winter had no impact here, but because it hadn’t changed at all since I last visited. That visit, years ago, was just after my mother’s funeral. I came here hoping to find comfort, but all I found was emptiness — a deep ache that wouldn’t go away.

In my grief, I had destroyed several plants. They had been replaced as if my tantrum hadn’t happened at all, and the garden was now more pristine than ever. Every plant seemed perfectly chosen, each one working in harmony with the others, whether aesthetically or symbiotically.

Back then, every plant was tended with love by my mother. She used to say those plants were my siblings, and she doted on them as if they were her children. Now, the garden was maintained by hired staff, who upheld the status quo but never added to it. The space felt frozen in time. Forgotten and unexchangeable.

But as I watched Elijah fawn over the plants, eagerly picking his favorites — first five, then eight — I realized something. Maybe this garden didn’t have to stay the same forever. Perhaps it could stay amonument, an epitaph to my mum, but from it something new could grow. Something beautiful and alive and thriving. A little fragment of my mother’s legacy that I could carry forward but shape myself.

Elijah pointed at another flower. “What about this one?” he asked.

I told him everything I knew about it, sharing the tale of how stubborn the plant was and how mum spent many an hour fretting over it. Only after several minutes it occurred to me to tell Elijah the fact that it wouldn’t survive in our flat without temperature controls.

He looked at me with that little furrow between his brows, which told me he was thinking too much. “Say, Lisa, it seems like you really love plants too,” he said slowly. “Why don’t you have any in your flat? Is it… because you just moved in a few months ago?” Elijah was giving me an easy out, but I didn’t take it.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “For the longest time, I couldn’t even look at flowers. They reminded me too much of my mum.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “Actually, you’ve made it better. I was afraid to come here, but now that I did it, I’m glad.”

I stepped forward, kneeling in front of a plant with tiny blue flowers. It wasn’t an ordinary plant, but a special one my mother had cultivated over decades. She’d made it smaller and smaller until it resembled a perfect miniature of its kind. It became so cute, so delicate, so unique.

“I’m ready now. I want to take this one with me,” I said softly. Then I looked up at Elijah and smiled. “Thank you.”

For the first time, it was Elijah who reached out to kiss me.

Emotions swelled between us, but it wasn’t a terrifying maelstrom, rather a gentle lapping of the sea along the shore. I could step into those waves and be caressed by them.

“Make love to me?” I asked, feeling like a delicate flower whose petals could be blown away by a too-strong wind.

But Elijah was gentle. So gentle. He murmured praise into my skin as he peeled me out of my clothes and ensured his own were splayed on the ground so that I could lie down on them.

His hands trembled a little when they trailed over my breasts for the first time, but my appreciative moans bolstered him and soon there was this determined glint in his eyes that he got when he was figuring out the murder mystery in his next novel. Those fingers which held a pen with such mastery, which glided over the keyboard with such speed… Oh, those fingers. They were truly a blessing, and I made sure Elijah knew it as he explored my body and drove me insane.

“Elijah, so good,” I panted out. “Can you… please, can you touch me…?”

Chester would make a teasing quip like ‘touch you where?’ and Rowan would look at me to savor my mounting desperation, but such games weren’t what Elijah wanted. His fingers immediately left my throbbing nipples and slid down, down, down , then in.

“Ah!” I cried out then shuddered when Elijah found out he could easily slide in a second finger.

“You are so wet,” he said with amazement.

“For you…” I slurred out as he started a toe-curling rhythm of in and out. “I’m wet for you! Because of you…!”

“Well, then I have to take responsibility.” Elijah smiled down at me.

His eyes crinkled. He looked so happy I had to kiss him again. Once my lips found his I couldn’t stop and it was with us joined in a passionate kiss that I came, shuddering around his fingers.

“Oh, wow…” Elijah said as he separated from me enough to pull his fingers out and look at the evidence of my pleasure on them. “Do you want… ah… more?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said hotly because I knew that I could ride this wave into another orgasm. Maybe two. I scrambled to pull down his underwear, the last piece of clothing left between us, and groaned as Elijah’s thick erection popped up. The pulsing veins, the reddened tip… my mouth watered, but another part of me was equally hungry.

I laid back on the clothes and spread my legs in invitation.

“Like this. Come on,” I said feverishly.

Elijah settled over me, looking as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t have him hesitating.

“Elijah, I want you inside of me,” I said. My hand wandered down to spread the lips of my pussy. “Here.”

Elijah choked on his own saliva at the sight, but a second later he was surging forward and pressing into me. I threw my head back with a shout. Elijah startled and looked as if he was about to ask if I was alright, so I wrapped my legs around his hips, showing him I very much didn’t want him to stop.

He took the hint and moved his hips in and out.

There’s pleasure in being penetrated, stimulated until you are dizzy with the amount of sensations wrought from your body, but there’s also visceral joy in being someone’s first. Seeing Elijah discover how a wet, warm pussy felt around his cock was an experience I wanted to burn inside my brain forever.

He sounded devastated.

Like no matter what he read or watched or even imagined as an author, the real thing was thousands of times better and it wrecked him.

I wrecked him.

His hips pistoned into me as he lost any semblance of rhythm, whimpers and moans spilling from his lips.

“Lisa… you feel divine…” he slurred out. “Ah! I’m s-so close… can I?”

“Fill me up,” I begged against his lips. “I want to feel your hot cum inside—”

I didn’t even finish the sentence before he came with what sounded almost like a sob.

The loss of his composure thrilled me as much as the feeling of his cock jerking inside of me. My pussy milked him and my own desire rose almost to the cresting point. I snuck a hand down to play with my clit and that was enough to make my body bow into an arch of found completion.

“Nngh!” Elijah made an incomprehensible sound as he felt me pulsing around his spent cock.

He nearly collapsed on top of me but caught himself in time, self-conscious of his weight as if there would be a reason for me not to like his softer body. I liked how he felt under my hands, how he made a wonderful pillow as we settled next to each other. I whispered to him, telling him that and many other secrets. Only the verdant trees and sprawling plants were privy to how Elijah responded in kind.