Enthralled

Enthralled, Chapter One

Enthralledby Scribe

Chapter One

"Here ya are, Mac."

Shepherd Henderson came awake with a small snort. He hadn't thought that the ride would be long enough for him to fall asleep, but he apparently was more tired than he'd thought. Why the hell had he let Merle coax him into going to that club after they ate? He'd tried to beg off the dinner party--hell, he hadn't wanted to go in the first place. She had scheduled it without consulting him, and the group had been her friends--not their friends. *Come to think of it, we don't really have any mutual friends, do we?* he thought blearily as he fumbled in his wallet.

He yawned as he handed the cash to the cabbie. "Beg pardon."

"Don't mention it, Mac." The man was tucking the money in his cash box. "Ya shouldn't oughta escort th' milkman on 'is rounds if ya can't handle th' lack of sleep any bett'rn this."

"It wasn't intentional," he murmured. "I had some urgent work to take care of, and my fiancee wouldn't let me go. I didn't get to the office till one, then..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"Whyn't ya tell 'er ya dint have time t' socialize?" Shep shrugged again. "Damn, man--pussywhipped ain't no way t' start a marriage." He drove off.

Too tired to even be offended, Shep fumbled in his pocket for his key as he turned toward his apartment building. He froze, blinking at the unfamiliar facade, then glanced up at the numbers posted over the entrance. He groaned. "1920--not 1820!" The cab driver had dropped him off one blook too soon, and now he'd have to hoof it.

As he began to plod wearily up the street, he thought, *I guess I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. I was so groggy when I gave him my destination I could have said eighteen instead of nineteen.* Shep had lived at 1802 Oakland in Manhattan for five years before m 192 192 1920 Greenwood in Greenwich Village. He'd only moved two weeks ago, and he knew that he'd written down the old address and telephone number more than once.

If he hadn't been so exhausted, he might have enjoyed the walk. Greenwich was clean and quiet compared to his former neighborhood. The air was crisp, but not too cold, and the sun was up just enough to make the streetlamps unnecessary. Several of the venerable brownstones housed small shops on the ground floor, with the proprietors living above, or in back. His building was one of them--the entrance to the shop right beside the one that led into the entrance hall.

As he approached home, he noticed that he wasn't exactly alone on the street. A Siamese cat was coming from the opposite direction, moving close to the building, with sinuous grace. It noticed him, and stopped abruptly, staring at him with eyes as brilliant as sapphires. Shep wasn't particularly fond of cats, but he had nothing against them. He called, "Hey, kitty. Don't be afraid."

The cat's ears flicked, and he could have sworn that the glance it tossed him was disdainful. It continued, and stopped right in front of the shop entrance. Then it watched him. Shep had put his hand on the door to the lobby, but he didn't open it just yet. *That cat is waiting for something.* He returned the cat's look. It's tail began to switch in irritation. He felt a little foolish, but was feeling just loopy enough to say, "I can stare just as long as you can."

The cat's ears went back. It turned to the door and hopped up on the little safety railing that ran across the front display window. Shep watched in growing astonishment as the cat balanced on its hind legs, stretched up, and placed its paws against a small doorbell. He could hear the harsh electronic buzz inside the store. The cat leaned on the button, and the rasping sound droned.

After a moment Shep heard footsteps inside the shop. There was the sound of locks being unbolted, and a sleepy, irritated voice said, "Bloody hell, Pyewacket! I don't mind you tomcatting all night, but don't go waking me up at this ungodly hour." The door opened. "Why the hell didn't you just let...? Oh."

Shepherd found himself blinking at the young man who had obviously just been roused out of bed. He was dressed only in the bottom part of a pair of loose black silk pajamas, and his skin was milky pale in contrast to the dark fabric. He was slender, but the exposed expanse of chest and flat belly was well toned. The most startling thing about his appearance was the pale blonde hair that brushed his shoulders, and half-curtained his face. Shep knew that styles here in the village tended to be a bit extreme, but he'd never seen a man with hair that long, *Or that beautiful,* he thought absently. *Merle spends a lot of time and money trying to get hers to look like that, and I'm staring. I'd better say something.* "Hello." The young man nodded silently. "Your cat... I've never seen one do anything like that before. It's extraordinary. How did you train it to do that trick?"

The cat hissed, jumped down, and darted past the man's bare feet, disappearing into the shadows of the store interior. "Oh, I never taught him that." The voice was a soft drawl. The speaker reached up, pushing a thick fall of hair off his face. Shep found himself looing into a pair of chocolate brown eyes that glinted with sardonic amusement. Somehow the eyes were at odds with the youthful face and frame. They looked somehow older than he would have expected. "He thinks up rude things to do all on his own. If you'll excuse me, it's rather chilly."

"Oh, sure. Sorry. I was just..." The door shut. *Making a fool of myself, I suppose. I ought to know not to try to have conversations when I'm half asleep.* Shep opened the door to the apartment section of the building and went in. As he trudged up the stairs, he thought, *I wonder what he sells in that shop? The blinds were drawn on the display window. Damn, I've been here two weeks, and I don't even know what business shares my building. Maybe I ought to drop by later on. I mean, it would be only neighborly, and who knows? He might have something I need.*


Downstairs Gil relocked the door and stood for a moment, rubbing his arms. Usually the cold didn't bother him much. He noticed that his nipples had drawn up into tight buds, and he idly tweaked one before padding back through the shop to his apartment. Pyewacket was sitting on the sofa, tail curved around his body, but with the tip twitching. The second Gil entered the room he gave a loud meow.

"Oh, don't start with me! How was I supposed to know that there was someone there? If you weren't so impatient you could have just sat there and acted catly for a few more moments. I'm sure he'd have lost interest and gone in, then you could have let yourself in. I really don't appreciate being woke up like this, Pye."

The croaking mew the cat made was almost apologetic. It hopped down and came over to wind itself around the young man's legs, beginning to purr. "You can't wait?" The noise this time was plaintive. "Oh, all right, but it'll have to be cold. I'm not cooking this time of the morning."
the the kitchen, he put down a bowl of milk. As the cat lapped at it, he tore some sliced turkey into bite sized morsels, filling a saucer. "I suppose you were out visiting that Persian three blocks over?" Pyewacket didn't stop drinking, but his whiskers swept back at a jaunty angle. "Rake."

The cat looked up as he set the saucer down, and made a burbling noise. Gil said sharply, "I am not jealous! You know very well that I could have a lover if I so chose." A questioning chirp. He sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Haven't you ever just gotten bored, Pyewacket? Ever gotten tired of the same round of partners?" The cat gave him a disbeleiving look. "Oh, pardon me. Bored by any offer of sex--what was I thinking of?"

Gilbert Holroyd squatted down beside his familiar and scratched it gently behind the ears as it ate. He stared back through the door that led into his shop, remembering how very blue the eyes of the man on the street had been. He'd been going into the apartment section of the building. This had to be the new tenant that Queenie had been telling him about. What was the name again? "Shepherd Henderson," he murmured. Pyewacket stopped eating to look up at him. "Hm? Nothing--just saying his name. Shepherd Henderson." He smiled slowly. "How perfectly Mundane sounding."