Chapter 14
KIT
‘So, what’s next?’ I ask, still buzzed from wielding that incredible sword and eager to keep the joy alive as we walk up the steps from the dojo and back onto the bustling shopping street.
‘Cat café?’ Chloe says with an expectant lift of her eyebrow.
I try to work out if she’s serious and decide from the eagerness I see flickering in her expression that she is.
I frown. ‘That’s not exactly what I had in mind.’
‘It’s actually more of an animal café. So not just cats,’ she says, adopting a persuasive tone now.
‘Really? What, like a zoo?’ I ask, horrified by the idea. I didn’t come all the way to Japan to do things an eight-year-old me would have enjoyed. Not that my brother ever let me enjoy being eight. He was always so dismissive about anything age-appropriate that I liked.
She laughs. ‘I don’t think there’ll be anything dangerous to humans there, no. Just different types of fluffy pets.’
I laugh off my unease, but I can see from the look in her eyes that she really wants to do this.
And I’m grateful to her for inviting me to come along today – the samurai training was a blast and not something I would have experienced if it wasn’t for her – so I say, ‘Okay then. I’ll come for the ride, but I’ll just sit in the corner and drink coffee, if it’s all the same to you.
I’m not a massive fan of petting animals. ’
‘Suit yourself,’ she says, shrugging one shoulder in a gesture that clearly says, if you want to pretend to be cool that’s fine by me, but I know you better than that.
I catch the corner of her mouth lift in a gratified smile and warmth pools in my chest.
* * *
‘Here it is,’ she says, fifteen minutes later, after we’ve dodged through the crowds heading towards one of the famous temples, which is set in beautiful parkland opposite the café.
She points at a set of stairs that lead up to a small shopping mall.
A lot of the shops here seem to be arranged on top of each other.
I guess it makes economic sense, but it’s strange, as a Brit, to see them stacked so high so often.
I follow her up a couple of floors until we come to a sign showing a wide-eyed kitten with a pink bow tied around its neck, looking like the mother of all innocent internet thirst traps.
Pulling open the glass door next to it, she walks into the reception area where you’re expected to take off your shoes and stow them in a pigeonhole.
Once we’ve both done this, she goes to speak to the friendly receptionist who sets us up with treats for the animals as well as a space in a cabinet where we can safely stow any drinks we buy while we’re there.
Chloe makes a beeline for a small two-person sofa, and the moment she’s seated and has opened what looks like a small bowl of chocolate – which I’m pretty sure it isn’t – she’s swamped by about seven cats and kittens, all vying for a lick of the loaded spoon she’s holding out towards them.
I can’t help but laugh as they begin to climb all over her, rubbing their cheeks against her arms and body and gazing up at her with their wide adoring eyes, all competing for her attention and love.
Clever pusses.
I’m almost jealous of the rapt way she’s gazing back at them, her voice a low, seductive purr as she gently admonishes them for pushing each other out of the way.
Her smile is the widest I’ve seen it since I first bumped into her again, here in Kyoto.
I’ve definitely been a facilitator of intense pleasure for her here too, mostly when she’s been in bed with me, I’m satisfied to note. Though she’s seemed to enjoy my company out of bed too.
As I have hers.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve laughed so much with someone for quite some time.
Life all got a bit serious there for a while and it’s such a balm to actually have some fun again for a change.
I’ve definitely grown up a lot in the intervening years, but Chloe seems to have brought back the adventurous side in me.
I’m starting to realise how much I’ve missed it.
As if sensing I’m thinking about her, she looks up and catches my eye, grinning as a tiny and very furry grey kitten makes itself comfortable on her lap, seemingly sated now from the brown gloopy treat it’s been eating.
It stretches out its entire length along the middle of her lap, its tiny chin propped on her right knee.
She puts down the bowl and spoon, which appear to have been licked clean now, and the rest of the cats wander off, spotting a new couple of people coming into the café with their own smorgasbord of treats clutched in their hands.
‘How’s your pussy?’ I ask with a grin, nodding down at the kitten in her lap.
She smirks back. ‘Purring.’
‘Can I have a stroke?’ I ask, all mock innocence.
This time she laughs. ‘Sure. Take a seat and go for your life.’
I sit next to her on the sofa and turn to make a joke about the heat between her legs, but before I know what’s happening, one of the people who work there, looking after the animals, puts a ferret on my lap.
A goddamn ferret!
I stare at it in horror, barely able to believe it’s really there. It’s like something from one of my nightmares, where something is intent on taking a bite out of my dick.
Don’t ask me to explain those dreams. My therapist’s had a good go at getting me to ‘unpick’ where that fear has come from, but I still have no earthly clue.
Though isn’t every guy mortally afraid of castration?
‘Jesus,’ I whisper, sickening heat swamping me as I lean as far back as I can from the offending creature that’s now walking around in my lap, trying to get more comfortable.
‘You don’t want it?’ the café employee asks, sounding not only surprised, but a bit miffed.
‘No. Take it away. Please,’ I manage to grind out through gritted teeth.
Thankfully, she does as I ask, scooping the long, pale, furry creature, with razor sharp teeth, away from my crotch, then gives it a consoling cuddle before putting it back in a cat basket.
My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty with the lingering fear, so it takes me a moment to realise that Chloe is frowning at me in concern.
‘You okay?’ she asks. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale.’
‘Is it any wonder?’ I gasp out. ‘Those things have needles for teeth and they love to burrow their way inside trouser legs!’
I can tell she’s trying not to smile and I swallow hard, my throat dry and my frown deepening as humiliation creeps over me.
This is not how I hoped this little interlude would go. I want Chloe to see me as a strong, capable human being, not some weak, anxiety-ridden kid.
‘Hey,’ she says, lifting her hand and cupping my jaw.
Her touch is like a balm, and I feel myself start to relax as I look into her eyes and see only compassion there.
‘It’s okay to feel afraid. No-one’s judging you, especially not me.
’ And she leans in and kisses me firmly on the lips, as if wanting to prove she means it.
A sense of relief floods through me and I lean into the kiss, grateful for the distraction from my angst.
When she pulls away, her eyes are shining and she gives me a gentle smile, her expression full of warmth.
That’s new. Up until now, all I’ve had are playful smiles from her, but this one feels more genuine, like she actually cares about me.
Not wanting to ‘unpick’ that either right now, I stand up from the sofa and clap my hands gently together.
I’m feeling pretty fucking spun-out right now.
‘Okay. I’m going to find my drink. I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say, not waiting for her reply before I head off to the cabinet to soothe my now rather rough-feeling throat with the coffee I ordered when we first came in, which has been deposited on our shelf.
I knock back the entire drink, grateful for a short reprieve from what felt like a significant moment just now.
I know we’re only hanging out with each other while we’re both here in Kyoto, but I’m already beginning to wonder how I’m going to deal with it when it’s time for us to say goodbye to each other.
I’m distracted from that unsettling thought by one of the other employees approaching me with a friendly smile and what looks like a cat’s toy. It’s a long wooden stick, with a rainbow-coloured piece of furry material attached to it, which I guess is meant to represent an animal’s tail.
I stare at it quizzically for a moment, until she points towards a metre-high plastic partition a few feet away from us, which runs the width of the room and has a small gate in the middle of it.
Looking over the makeshift fence, I see two small creatures wrestling with each other, their tails whipping around as they tumble over and over along the floor.
They’re meerkats. Bloody meerkats.
They’re hilarious though, and look like a couple of rambunctious siblings, larking around together. As I watch, they separate, then start to chase each other’s tails, playfully trying to bite the other’s, though clearly not with any intent to hurt.
It makes me think about how my brother and I used to playfight when I was eight and he was twelve. Though ours had been much less about play and more about dominance. Of which he usually got the upper hand, being older and bigger than me. Not to mention more competitive.
Not much has changed since we grew up. It was one of the best days of my life when I got to tell him I’d become a billionaire – something he could never dream of becoming, even as a top-flight barrister.
His reserved congratulations and gritted-teeth smile felt like a victory at the time, but since then I’ve heard from him less and less. I guess because the money’s become a bit of a barrier between us. I finally beat him at something and he hates it.
I’m distracted from my thoughts by the employee waving the cat toy at me again and insistently nodding towards the meerkats.