I slide into my Queen Of Tofu impersonation. “Why, yes, Logan. Tell me every dirty detail. And don’t spare my ears.”

“If you insist,” I answer.

I proceed to tell her all about my night. She’s my cat, my priest, my confidante.

And as I end my confession, I whisper one last secret to her. “And I can’t wait for it to happen again.”

9QUEEN OF TOFU

Queen Of Tofu strutted to the door, grateful her person was home at last, since his return signified two important things.

One, food. Preferably tuna, because no cat wanted the same damn kibble every single day and night.

And two, amusement.

He was always so chatty, and his voice entertained her. Such a funny voice, almost like he was trying to be sexy to female humans or something. All that gravel and roughness. Maybe it worked on two-legged ladies, but it was hard to say, since Queen Of Tofu hadn’t seen any of those around these parts in a long time.

Perhaps he was losing his touch?

Did he need lessons in seduction?

She could help with that to some degree. As a cat, she was naturally seductive, with a stunning coat she kept in tip-top shape and a tail that was the envy of all the city.

When he opened the door, she glided her silky body against his legs. Perhaps some of her sultriness would rub off on him and he might learn a thing or two.

If he didn’t, he was still a lucky human to be on the receiving end of her full-body grind, as she liked to refer to it. It was generous—she even wove between his legs to get all sides. And it was efficient—it meant both “Good to see you” and “Feed me right the hell now.”

His big hands came down around her midsection, and he picked her up. That had to be a good sign that food was coming.

“Did you have a good evening, my queen?”

She pushed her head against his hand, kicking her purr box into high gear.

As he spoke, he carried her to the kitchen and opened a cupboard.

Eureka!

A can of tuna.

He brought his finger to his lips. “Shh. I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”

He set her down on the tiled floor, and she danced the dinner dance. Or really, the late-night snack dance, since it was after midnight, but she was nocturnal, so she wasn’t sleepy.

He cracked open the can, and the smell, dear God, the smell. It was so delightful. The best perfume ever.

“You want to know the special occasion? Fine. I’ll tell you. Especially since Amelia isn’t here and we can talk openly.”

Tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna.

Queen Of Tofu sashayed back and forth, flicking her tail against the cupboards in excitement. He could talk, he could sing, he could do anything if only she could have tuna filling her belly.

“I had a great night. This woman, she is . . .” The man stopped speaking and sort of drifted off, some kind of moony look in his eyes.

The cat flicked her ear. She’d seen that look before. He got it when he read books that kept him awake well past midnight, ones he’d recite parts of aloud to her, disturbing her rest with tales of good men chasing bad men across cities she’d never heard of.

Or when he cued up music he seemed to like, picking her up and singing to her like she was his furry dance partner.

He did that with the little person who lived here too. The small girl who smelled like apples and happened to have excellent taste, since she liked to photograph cats. There was no better use of a camera and no better model than Queen Of Tofu.

Honestly, all photos ought to be photos of cats. Not everyone had access to her fluffy majesty, though, so Queen Of Tofu allowed that they didn’t all need to be of her.

Finally, the man set down the tuna, and Queen Of Tofu nearly cried with happiness.

She dug into the feast as the man leaned against the counter, talking, talking, talking. “She’s funny and bright. And she’s this alluring mix of sexy and sensual, but when we made it to the bedroom, metaphorically speaking since it was the couch, she didn’t want to take charge at all.”

His voice seemed to rumble, like a truck coming to a slow stop.

Queen Of Tofu devoured another bite of the fish, eyes on her dish, not her person. She always listened when he spoke, just more attentively with a full belly.

“And that’s such a turn-on. But that’s not why I want to see her again. It was only one date, but she’s the first one since Stacey who I’ve had this connection with. It’s not even just the physical. It’s everything.” When his voice went soft again, the cat glanced up and saw him tap his temple. “It’s here too. And what is hotter than that? Right, Queen OT?”

She stared at him without blinking, then took the last bite. But was it truly the last bite? Maybe if she licked the plate, there would be more.

“So, I’ll see her on Friday.” The man stopped talking, picked up the plate, and set it in the sink.

Sadness. No more tuna had magically appeared.

But her person picked her up again, stroking her back. “Trust me, I would see her tomorrow night if I didn’t have this deal to finalize. But I have a crazy week. Did I tell you what happened at work?”

She licked her paw. Score! There was a piece of tuna stuck there. Lucky night.

“The sale closes in the morning. A kick-ass new media property that I’m buying. It’s a gold mine, and it’s going to be terrific for our portfolio.”

She glanced up at him, her head tilted. He sounded enchanted.

“Great content, great numbers, a terrific growth trajectory. Plus, this site encouraged me to text Bryn tonight. Well, an article on it did, in a roundabout way. I knew I liked that site,” he said, petting her ears in a way that pleased her. “That’s why I’m buying it tomorrow.”

He sat on the bed, rubbing her belly and talking more about things that meant very little to her, since they didn’t involve worship of seafood or the chance to show off her lovely fur.

But the tone of his voice was pleasing—as if he’d captured a tasty salmon and was playing with it—and she hoped he’d have a good week with his fish.

He was a good human, and he deserved a salmon. Better yet, a whole sushi dinner.

That way, he could bring some home for the cat.

But she suspected he would, and that was why she obliged him, stretching into her most seductive pose, like a feline odalisque, black-and-white fur sleek and fluffier than either a down comforter or a pancake.

Well, he did need to improve his game, it seemed.