Magic Cats and Wishful Thinking

A nice heartwarming love story with a maybe mystical cat. I hope you enjoy my humble offering. All standard caveats apply. Everyone is over eighteen, and naturally, there's a happy ending. Let me know what you think in the comments when you're done.

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"What about you, little miss kitty? Are you a magic cat?" She was in the apartment the day I moved in. A cute little dark gray cat with a piece gone from her right ear. No idea how she got into a third-floor apartment. The trees off my balcony weren't close enough for her to climb in and they had just remodeled the apartment, so she didn't belong to the previous owners. Obviously, a magic cat.

Maybe she followed maintenance in when they set up my appliances or something. Nah, she was magic. That was my story, and I was sticking with it. It didn't matter. She followed me around, mewing softly, sat in my lap when I watched movies and let me scratch behind her ears. She nuzzled next to me in bed. I had asked around and even put up a flier by the mailboxes. Nobody stepped forward. What the hell, the pet deposit was only a hundred bucks.

However, she got here; I was fine with it. My divorce had been brutal. I had lost everything, my family, my house, most of my friends, and almost my job. Just because my ex was a spiteful, vindictive witch, and I liked to dress up like a girl sometimes. Ok, maybe more than just sometimes.

She had played that card for all it was worth, poisoning my relationships with family and friends. If it hadn't been for me talking to HR about it before she did, I would have lost my job, too. I could have sued for slander, but what was I going to pay a lawyer with? My good looks. I had killer legs and a nice butt, but you can't cash those. Not legally in this state, anyway. At least we didn't have kids.

I let it go and moved halfway across the country to another office of the company I worked for. At least with Miss Kitty, that's what I called her. I wouldn't be alone.

Work was work. I sat in my cubicle and wrote code, solving problems and creating applications for all the companies we supported. It wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't exciting, but it paid my bills and paid them very well. Without having a vampire sucking me dry, I had money in the bank for a change. What I wasn't spending on clothes, that is.

I made new friends, started playing golf again, and even got into a fantasy league at work. I almost felt like I was in college again, except most of my running buddies were married, and I wasn't interested in letting their wives set me up. It was too soon, and I was still gun shy. I met some nice girls, though. Even got laid a time or two. I just wasn't looking for anything long term.

My friends all spent their nights and weekends with their families. I spent mine practicing my makeup and prancing around my apartment in my newest pair of heels.

Weather permitting, my friends and I played golf about once a month. We met at Halftime to catch a game now and then. Draft night for our fantasy league was there, too. I probably went there too often. I had made a friend with a waitress named Ricki, who I found out was transgender, and that was very cool. After a few months, I even shared my cross dressing with her.

She just smiled and patted my arm. "I know. Sometimes I can see your bra. Maybe smaller forms when you under dress."

We started chatting about that, too. She referred me to her nail salon, where they introduced me to powder dip nails. Clear shiny nails I could leave a little longer than my normal nails and all I ever got were compliments.

It was Ricki that encouraged me to grow my hair out and have it styled in a more androgenous style. That made my dressing up easier, not that I was ever going to leave my apartment fully dressed as a woman, but I appreciated the suggestions.

It felt good, too. Little validations of that feminine piece of me I kept hidden away.

I ran into her and her husband, Victor, at the mall. They ganged up on me and I ended up in a chair at a kiosk. I left with simple gold studs in my ears.

My friendship with Ricki was getting risky, nudging the needle just a little further each time I let her talk me into something.

I lost the fantasy league last year, so it was my job to coordinate it this year. I had the man cave at Halftime reserved and had worked with the manager to hook my laptop up to the tv for our draft. With software installed that would sync with everyone's phones, we were all set. I had sent the links out to everyone in advance so they could download the app with my license and preload the favorites. I figured as bad as I was at picking teams; the software was probably an excellent investment. If history held true, I'd probably need it next year, too.

Ricki was our waitress. My friends and I ate and drank and laughed and insulted each other, cursing when someone beat us to a player on our favorite list. When it was all said and done, I actually thought I had a good team. I just needed to work on my game week skills and learn how to pick the right ones to play. I had until Thursday to figure it out.

"Hey, you pick a good team?" Ricki came up to my table as I packed up my computer.

"Hope so." I laughed. "I'm not very good at this, but it's fun."

"Here's something else you might think is fun. They just announced it today." She slipped a flier onto my table in front of me. 'Halftime Halloween Costume Contest.' There was a five-hundred-dollar first prize.

"Ricki, I don't do 'dress up.'" I heard what I said as soon as the words escaped my lips. She just looked at me and grinned.

"It could finally be your chance to go out. It will be Halloween. Just think about it, and I have an idea for your costume."

I knew she wasn't going to give up. "OK, I'll think about it." I grabbed the flier and shoved it in my computer case, gave her a hug, and left.

I thought about it all the way home. On the one hand, I was 6-1 and about 160 pounds. I'd never pass. That was the main reason I never went out anywhere dressed. But Ricki was right. It was Halloween. What if?

People hadn't even flinched at my new hairstyle or at my nails, which were now a quarter inch longer than I'd ever kept them before. My earrings might as well not even exist, even when I wore small hoops instead of studs.

I wore my smaller forms almost all the time now. Ricki had noticed. I'm sure others had, and no one had said a word until I outed myself to Ricki. Maybe people really didn't care. Maybe I could do it.

I dug the flier out of my laptop case and plopped down in my recliner, looking over the information. There were two Halftime girls on it, one a very sexy pirate, the other a Playboy bunny. Ricki said she had an idea. I wondered what it could be. The Pirate on the flyer was hot. All I could think about for the next ten minutes was how I could find a costume like that in my size.

Miss Kitty jumped on the couch next to my chair, meowing loudly before she commanded her spot in my lap. I scratched her behind the ear with one hand while I held the flier in the other, mindlessly staring at it. Maybe...

"You're a magic cat. Why don't you share your magic with me? If I were just a girl, it would all be so easy." I smiled at Miss Kitty. She just looked up at me with those judging eyes and meowed until I started scratching again.

I had a tee time with some guys from my league in the morning and it was an early one, so I shoved the flier back in my laptop case and went to draw a nice hot bath. I'd started shaving everything below my nose as soon as my ex filed. It took too long to do in the morning, so I took my baths at night. Luxuriating in scented bubble baths and relishing the feel of my freshly shaved skin as the razor glided over it. Maybe if my bonus was big enough at Christmas, I could get laser treatments.

It was the same every time I got ready to go play golf. I knew what I wanted to wear, a pink polo shirt over my smaller forms with gray compression skort and frilly ankle socks, but there was no way. I had them laid out, anyway.

"See Miss Kitty, it would be so much easier..." She was on my bed watching me with that look of detached indifference cats were famous for.

I showed up in my standard Bermuda shorts with some lacy cheeky panties on under them, and one of my famous Hawaiian shirts that I knew would cover up my sports bra. No boobs for golf. My forms stayed home. Maybe one day. That was always the afterthought in my mind.

Eric and Gene took one cart, and Tony rode with me. I didn't know Tony that well. He wasn't in our fantasy league and wasn't on our team. His manager loaned him to us for a project and he was a good golfer and a nice guy, so now and then, he'd show up. Besides, the last time I'd played with him, he gave me a tip to straighten out my slice. It took two strokes off my game that day.

It was standard BS golf talk, what we were doing at work. Did we think the Cowboys would ever figure out how to win a playoff game again? That kind of stuff?

We made the turn and were in the middle of the back nine when the wheels came off.

"Hey, no offense, but has anybody ever told you that you'd make a pretty girl?"

"What?" I stopped the cart and just looked at him.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean anything, it's just your legs and that damned ass of yours when you tee up your drives. And you've got that long red hair, earrings, and stuff. It's kind of like you want people to see you that way."

I just stared at him with a blank stare.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, it's just... Fuck, forget I said anything. Your ball's over there, I think."

Uncomfortable, awkward, cringeworthy, none of them were quite up to describing the mood for the rest of the round. We were both feeling it. I added shock and disbelief to my list with a tinge of giddy excitement, but I'd keep that to myself. What he said didn't make me mad or offend me. I knew what he said was true. It was just that nobody had ever called me out like that before.

We compared scores and paid out bets, and Tony bolted.

"What's up with him?" Eric asked.

"Not sure. I don't think he was feeling too good on the back nine. Maybe a bug or something." The three of us ordered a beer and talked about the shots we'd made and almost made, just like we always did.

I got home and stripped, jumping in the shower and then taking a long hard look at myself in the mirror. Was there something I was missing? Sure. Long legs and a nice ass. I knew that - I worked on that. I figured it was one thing I could do without having to explain it to people. Earrings, OK. My hair, I did that on purpose, too. But what about the rest of me? I kept in shape.

There between my legs, it wasn't the most impressive I'd ever seen, but even shaved, it definitely wasn't girly.

I worked out a few times a week, so I didn't have much body fat, but I had that decidedly male upper torso, nice shoulders and a developed chest. They sat above a nice, trim waist. Maybe that was it. My arms weren't bulky, but I kept them toned. I liked them that way. Maybe that was girly. I guess in a pinch, I might pass as a female swimmer or something. Maybe a volleyball player.

None of this was new and there were intentional things I did to let little bits of my femininity out. All the things Tony mentioned. Why had he brought it up like that? Why had he gotten so flustered?

"I got nothing." I said it out loud to myself, brushed my teeth and pulled on a silky nightgown and, smiling at the irony, went to bed.

Tony stopped me as I was coming back from lunch on Monday. "Look, I know I'm not the most socially adept person in the world sometimes. It's just that me and Eric and Gene were all talking about it when you teed up your ball. We all wondered if you were even aware. I didn't mean to make things awkward by asking like that. I'm really sorry I said anything."

"Don't worry about it. I won ten bucks off your sorry butt, so we're all good." I laughed and winked, patting him on the shoulder before heading for the elevators.

His reflection in the mirror on the elevator door caught my eye. Dammit, he was watching me walk away. I could see the lust in his eyes. He liked what he saw.

I thought about the way he looked at me all day. When I got home, I went all out. My makeup was perfect. So was the black lingerie with the garter belt and Wolford seamed stockings. My six-inch stilettos, faux diamond bangle earrings, a matching bracelet on my wrist, and the most amazing formal gown finished it all off. Black with sequins and a slit up my left leg to my hip. I set up my camera on auto shoot and posed for picture after picture after picture. I lost the dress and took more until I was exhausted. Kicking my heels off and putting my earrings and bracelet away, I climbed into bed and slept in everything else.

The next morning, I scanned through all the pictures. I still saw it in every picture, the guy in a dress trying to look like a girl.

"See Miss Kitty." She was nudging my ankle, meowing for her breakfast.

"You see it, right? Why won't you share your magic with me?" It was just the voice of my frustration. I knew that. I guess if she could understand a word I was saying, she would, too.

Why did what Tony said, the way he looked at me, trigger me like this? I washed my face twice and traded my larger forms for the smaller ones. I wore the whole damned lingerie set to work under my clothes. Like I needed the additional distraction.

Every time I thought things were settling down, I ran into Tony. He didn't have to say a word. Just knowing he was checking out my ass as I walked away was enough. At least my fantasy team was winning a few games.

"Ok Riley. Here's the deal." Ricki wasn't working, but she was at Halftime, anyway. "Saturday, my friend Jennifer and I are taking you to our spa to get you ready for the contest, ok?"

"Contest, spa? Ricki, what are you talking about?"

"The costume contest. I've got your costume all ready. You've got a pair of trainers, right? Everybody has trainers."

"I've been so distracted, I completely forgot about it. I don't know if I can do that. People know me here. People I work with come in here. And Halloween is next Tuesday."

"But the contest is Saturday. Look. Jennifer tricked me into dressing up and going to a dance with Mike, her husband. It changed my life and look at me now. Trust me. Do this. It will be worth it."

"Ricki, I'm 6-1, you're what, 5-9? There's no way."

"Riley, look at the bartender, Aisha. Is she pretty?"

"Well, yeah, gorgeous."

"She's the same height as you and can change out a full keg by herself. Do you think anyone doubts her femininity?"

"No, but..."

"Riley, listen. You'll thank me. I promise. I'm texting you an address. Be there on Saturday at noon. Jenn and I will take care of everything else." She adjusted my shirt, so my bra wasn't peeking out, and kissed me on the cheek. She never did that.

What the hell. My life couldn't get any more fucked up than it already was. "Sure. Ok. Saturday, noon."

"Perfect." Ricki literally skipped out of the restaurant.

I wore what I always wore on Saturdays: panties, bra, modest forms, jeans, Hawaiian shirt, and the trainers Ricki requested.

I got pampered. There was no other word for it. Full body massage followed by waxing all my hair, herbal body wrap, full makeover, including styling my hair and redoing my nails. My fingernails were an inch long and bright red. My boobs, holy shit, my boobs were huge compared to what I usually wore. A red lace bra covered them, and I had a matching thong on with my bits tucked back in a tuck kit. There was no mirror, but I felt feminine as hell.

Jennifer came in with a small bag in her hand. I was too shocked to even think about being embarrassed.

"So, what's this costume Ricki picked out for me? Where is Ricki, anyway?"

"She had to get to work. That's why I'm here. To make sure you have everything you need. This," Jennifer pulled a Halftime halter out of the bag, "Is Aisha's contribution. These are some of my old ones. They will make your butt look amazing." There was no way I was getting into those shorts.

Yeah, I was wrong, and Jennifer was right. My ass looked amazing. So did I. The top was too small, too, but I got it on. I was a damned Halftime girl. It was incredible.

Jennifer and I walked into the restaurant and Ricki's scream made everybody stop what they were doing. It was surreal. I'd never heard the place this quiet.

"Come on." Ricki grabbed me and dragged me to the back. "Haley, this is Riley. He's a regular, the one I told you about." She was bouncing up and down on her toes. "Haley has to say it's ok."

"You look great, but you'll need a nametag." She handed me one of the 'Bambi' ones the girls wore when they were new or forgot theirs. "Just don't take any orders, OK?" I nodded. She nodded. "I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen you with my own eyes. You look amazing."

Me taking orders or telling people I wasn't a waitress wasn't the problem. I was in so many pictures and got offered more shots, had more guys hitting on me, even after I told them. It was exhausting. I won the five-hundred bucks, but I also got a little drunk. Maybe I got more than a little drunk. I was heading back to my table from the restroom, the ladies' restroom, when I heard it.

"Riley, no way!" I recognized the voice. I turned around and there was Tony. Gene and Eric were right behind him.

"Halloween costume." I tried to defend myself. "Five hundred dollars." They joined me at my table. More pictures and more drinks. They were here for a game. I couldn't tell you who even played.

"How are you getting home?" It was Tony.

"No fucking clue. Uber. I'm damned sure not driving. And if one more guy grabs my ass or offers me a shot, I'm going to punch him in the fucking nose."

"You, my dear, are so cut off." Ricki brought me a massive glass of water and my check. I dug a hundred from the contest out of my purse and gave it to her.

"Purse, I have a fucking purse." I showed it to the guys. Yeah, maybe more than a little drunk.

By the time the game was over, I was at least coherent. Nowhere near in a condition to drive, but coherent. I picked up my check and looked at it. Twelve dollars and change. I had six wings and one beer. As drunk as I was, damn, I had been popular all night. To be fair, Ricki earned that tip.

"Give me your keys." Tony put out his hand. I wasn't in a condition to argue, so I handed them to him. An hour later, I was in my bathroom, in my comfy cotton panties and my favorite nightgown, letting Tony gently wash the makeup off my face. "I knew the first time I saw you." He leaned down and kissed me when he had finished taking my makeup off. I didn't even resist or pull away. Was I that drunk, or was there something else going on? It was the last thing I remembered.

Sunday, I woke up like I always did, a bundle of gray fur bumping her head into my face, telling me she wanted breakfast. I extricated myself from someone's arms, trying to remember how I got home. I looked back and saw it was Tony that had been spooning behind me. At least I knew him. I didn't understand why he was in my bed, but at least I knew him.

I didn't feel like anything had happened. In fact, it had felt nice to be that close to someone again, even if it was another guy. Smiling, I got up and went to the kitchen to feed Miss Kitty.

Aspirin, B12, an enormous cup of coffee, I sat out on my balcony and tried to wrap my head around what I had done.

"Did you kiss me?" I didn't even turn around when Tony came out and sat across from me.

"I did." He blushed and smiled. "Call it a moment of weakness and I absolutely took advantage of you. I kissed you, and I won't apologize for it. Girls like you just get to me. You seem to more than most. I'd do it again, more, if I got the chance."