His mind was fogged, nebulous as the mist of a spring morn, waiting for the caffeine sun to burn it off; but this wasn’t morning but a late evening following a sumptuous repast and surplus of wine – re-reading a binding contract he did not recall, while attempting to nosh a dessert that fragmented his consciousness with its overpowering pleasure he could only describe as a mouth orgasms. While pursuing, bits of creamy drool dropped over the document.
“You, wouldn’t have that, that problem if you didn’t eat with that stupid cigarette holder in your mouth.” quipped Red.
“It’s my style.” he drolly stated
Protestations from the cat indicated a desire to exit the premises.
Red, “I’m going to let the cat out.”
“Yes, yes, I see that in the contract here, and here, and here! I do believe that was not what I was thinking of when I stated that ‘you should put the pussy out at night.’ In fact, as I recall, I don’t own a cat, or more precisely – no cat owns me.”
“It was open to interpretation.”