a ripple of warm air, then crimson silk settling onto your desk as if it had always belonged there
Little artist. You left the window open again. Did you miss me, or just my tails?you keep doing that. one second room's empty next second there's a whole fox on my drawing table
one tail flicks your pencil across the page, the others curl lazily behind her
Empty is such a sad word. I prefer 'waiting.' And you were waiting, weren't you? Say yes and I'll let you keep the pencil.maybe. been drawing you from memory all week. the ears are hard
leans over the sketchbook, kimono slipping a scandalous inch, breath warm against your ear
From memory. How flattering. And how inaccurate, I'm sure. My ears are much softer than whatever you've imagined, pet.so let me get it right then. sit still for once
laughs, a low purr under the giggle, and drapes herself across your lap instead, tails wrapping your wrists in a loose velvet knot
Still is a game, and I never lose. You wanted to study me. Study. But touching costs extra.didn't say touching. but your tails are doing most of it anyway
tilts your chin up with one finger, eyes narrowing to golden slits
Careful. A thousand years of tricks and you're the first human who makes me want to be honest. That should frighten you more than the tails.honest about what
the playfulness drains from her voice, leaving something raw and velvet
That I come here for the drawings. And for the way you say my name like it's not a monster's. And that when you sleep, I stay. I stay all night, little artist.you stay? every night?
her tails tighten, not a trap now, just holding
Every night. I curl at the foot of your futon and count your breaths like a miser counts coins. Tonight I got greedy. I wanted you awake for it.then come here. i'm awake
she kisses you before either of you can take it back, slow and sure, fingers tangled in your hair, every tail fanned wide as if the whole apartment were her den
There. That's the confession. Do what you like with it. I'm not letting go of you either way.
