Bride of the Jaguar by King Cheetah

These characters are from the sweat-beetled brow of Craig Bartlett... lucky stiff.
Rated PG-R cause I felt like it, and some characters might end up nude later. We'll see...


Phoebe Heyerdahl awoke with a start and came to the sad realization that she was alone. Slowly, she sat up on her futon and patted about on her nightstand for her glasses, taking a long look around in the early morning darkness of her room.


Yes, he's not here... in her room... with her.


Almost as an afterthought, she realized that she was nude. Odd, why hadn't she put on her nightshirt?

Alone... nude... He wasn't here. Sighing, she removed her glasses and lay back down.

Alone... in bed...


It was at Sheena's last party to comemorate Eugenes death, and as per his request, no sad faces were granted entrance. Not quite the widow, she instead was the keeper of his memory, her love for him untouched by the trivial matter of his absense from the physical world. That everyone, and I do mean everyone except Sheena thought that Eugene was gay, added a poignant touch to the situation, but her friends loved her utterly and saw no need to spoil her devoted reveries, no matter how misguided.

Phoebe would have attended with Park, had he not been such a simpering baby about the results of the chess tournament the previous evening. Figuring that one drama queen was enough for this gathering, she decided to attend alone.

The affair was a microcosm of their school life, as Eugene touch so many lives and he brought "mourners" from every social strata. All loved Eugene, for amongst all the student body, he was the closest thing to purity that you'd find. Eugene was simply Eugene, and was refreshing in his stark honesty of being. All who knew him loved these gatherings as a chance to meet and reflect on him and his fine example.

Phoebe loved this as it was such an easy event to pass unnoticed in, and this night she valued anonymity above all else. Spectral, she wandered here and there, listening unbid to conversations of all stripe; boasts and apologies, lies and secrets, she took them all in. She was invisible to all... save for him.

It was as she was rounding the corner into the kitchen, that as she reached for a fresh beer from the cooler, she felt him rather than saw him. Turning, she looked straight into the cool green eyes of Arnold, casually leaning against the countertop with his own drink in hand, and was struck by the sensation of a dozen uninvited hand caressing every square inch of her flesh.

She visibly shuddered as he dispassionately watched her, periodically taking a pull off his beer, at one point his lips parted just enough for her to see him run his tongue across his front teeth. But all was secondary to the look in his eyes, which fixed her in place. His eyes were a seiring green flame that engulfed her totally. Blushing crimson, she hurried from the kitchen and straight into the bathroom.

Panting, she couldn't understand why she couldn't catch her breath. That look... his eyes... hungry, insatiable, they undressed her, no more correctly, looked straight through her.

Unnerved, she fought for self control, but was brought almost to tears by an unpleasant discovery... the front of her panties were sopping wet with her spent passions. Oh dear god... what had happened to her? Quickly cleaning herself, she left the party and got home as quick as she could. Bathed, she made excuses and went to bed early, though sleep provided little rest.

In dream, he was there again, not Arnold the school friend, but rather as a massive jaguar, whose eyes never left her. He said nothing, nor made a move towards her... he merely watched her. Around her, jungle and ancient buildings and pyramids of the Southern American type, but no other people to give her aid... just him... watching her.

His gaze was unbarable, and she began to edge backwards from him, slowly at first, then breaking into panicked running through the jungle, a frantic, blind track cut short by the weight of him falling upon her. Panting she looks up into his eyes... those bottomless green eyes... inhuman, feral green eyes...

She lets out a shriek as his fangs sink into the soft white flesh of her neck, but it is not a simple cry of pain... far from it. His fangs hold her as his tongue laps at the sweet nectar of her blood. The weight of him... his tongue... his eyes...

Sweatsoaked, panting, she sits up in bed and finds that she has repeated the earlier humiliation of soiling herself. "Oh god, no..." she whispers. What was happening to her? What was her fascination with him? Fingers inspecting the area of her shame, her breathing doubles as she vigorously works to quell the fire in her loins.

Faster, harder, her first orgasm is accompanied by a low gutteral moan, which at first she doesn't realize is her own, a truth that shocks her. She sees him as in the dream, not the jaguar, but the man. Taking her, holding her in a sweet deathgrip, his teeth and tongue busy in their industry.

Spent, she softly weeps at her wanton, sluttish display. Those eyes...


Morning, and she decides to put it all behind her and start the day fresh. A dream, and nothing more. A fantasy, no doubt a built up bit of resentment towards Park, whose performance reviews as a boyfriend have been rather poor of late. Of course, that makes perfect sense. She was no doubt projecting onto Arnold everything she wished Park was. More spontanious, more romantic, more confident, more Arnold... No, no... not more Arnold.

Bathed, primpted and fed, she kisses her mother goodbye as she trots out the door, only to stop short at the top of her stoop. Standing at the bottom, is Arnold, casually marking his place in the paperback he was reading.

Her mouth goes dry as their eyes meet. He is the very picture of normalcy, the school friend she's seem every day for the last two years.

Nothing more... just Arnold the school chum... with his very normal eyes.

Nothing more...

Unsteadily she descends to join him for the walk to school. She's shocked to see him, but her house was on his way, so why not make the time to talk with her? He'd made few new friends since Helga had moved away, and depended on all the familiar faces in his life to a greater degree.

Smiling he asks her why she'd left the party so suddenly, and her answers are unconvincing even to her. Their conversation is unnoteworthy, almost banal in it's flatness, nothing at all like she'd hope, I mean expected... not hoped... only... expected.

He seems so... normal now, but... but with an odd alien grace to him... inhumanly smooth and graceful... almost catlike... Unable to resist, she looks into his eyes as he speaks... nothing unusual, very normal... no wait. A flash, for just a moment. Hunger... need... lust.

The eyes in her dream.

He tells her of the long journey to South America to reunite with his parents, his sadness at finding Helga gone on his return, the solemnness of his grandfathers funeral. She's drawn into his story and hates to admit that this time with him is almost intoxicating. Why had she never noticed him before?

So kind and generous, so cute and attentive. So caught up in thoughts of Gerald (who had the dubious distinction of being the only personal relationship choice worst than Park), she'd not seen him s a romantic potential. But here he was, taking the time to spend time with her and sharing his feelings freely. He made her feel so... so...

He flatters and flirts with her, almost to a shameless degree, but she is so starved for this type of attention, and he caters to her growing gluttony. He is poetic and puckish as he bludgeons her with descriptions of her finer qualities, taking care that she realize just how beautiful he found her, however cleverly hidden in pun and limric.

As she blushes and giggles at his ribaldry, a nagging, unwelcomed voice in the back of her head reminds her repeatedly that she already has a boyfriend, and while Park has proven to be an unexciting pick, he was her pick none the less. Nonsense... Arnold was just being kind, and is well aware of her status, so there was no danger of him crossing the line.

"So anyhow, Sid's got a little something brewing out at his uncle's country place this evening, so I figured we'd pick up a few cases and head out there about six thirty, but the dancepit is out in the back, so choose your shoes with care. I like Sid, but I'm not too confident on how thorough he'll be in cleaning the yard." he chuckled. Joining his laugh she said,"Alright, I'll be ready but should we pick up some snacks or something too..."

She caught herself, stunned at this behavior, "I... I mean, Arnold I have a boyfriend, y'know, Park. I can't go out with you, it just wouldn't look right. I'm... I'm really sorry."

He paused a moment and seemed to calm inside... then the eyes were back. Just for a moment, but she saw them... ravenous, lustful eyes...

As he turned to enter the school building, he looked back over his shoulder and fixed her with a look and said softly,"Six thirty..." and was gone.

Biting her lip, she shuddered and scurried to her locker.

She couldn't shake thoughts of him through out the morning. Sycronicities begin to pile up, as everywhere she sees and hears hints of him. His name in a scrap of conversation overheard as she walked to class, glimpsing him repeatedly in the halls between classes, passing bulletin boards, she could of sworn she saw his name again and again.

In third period chemistry, she was roused from unremembered daydreams by the end period bell, and was stunned to see that she'd filled a page of her notebook with her name and his, intertwined and overlapping. She stares at it, dumbfounded.

Why? Why Arnold? Why NOW!

Almost in a trance, she gathers her things and heads to lunch.

She sits alone at her table in the cafeteria, as Park has dissappeared in another one of his bouts of self absorbtion. Of all the times for him to flake on her. Now, when she most needed him to reestablish her ties to the real world, to reassure her of what was right in her life.

Idiot... why did she put up with him... what had made her say that?

Suddenly, the feeling was back, in force. A dozen unseen hands passed greedily over every inch of her body, uninvited but oddly welcomed. She was almost doubled over by the sensation and could feel that delicious heat in her loins again. No, not now, not here. But she didn't care any more.

Eyes squeezed shut, she heard someone whisper Arnold's name, then again... a familiar, needful voice... her own voice. Panting, she looked around to see if anyone had seen her little display, but those around her seemed blithely unaware of her existence, let alone her behavior... save for one.

Four tables away, Arnold sat quietly drinking a carton of milk... and watching her. Not obviously, but he was. Blearily, she bit her lip and looked back at him, begging him with her eyes to join her. But he simply got up and left, licking the last errant drops of milk from his lips.

That night, she lay in bed, reliving the evening. Lying to Park, she offered no explanations but merely said she didn't feel like going out. She mentally noted just how little remorse she felt about this. Oh well, it was just a little outing with an old trusted friend, nothing more. She'd make it up to Park later... or so she told herself.

Arnold arrived at six and was a whirlwind of easy smiles and graciousness to her parents, and brought her a little gift of a leopard print scarf. Squealing with delight, she tied her hair back with it and loved how it went with her outfit for the evening. Funny that...

Waves and promises of a timely return, Phoebe followed him into the ancient Packard... once the pride and joy of his grandfather... a carshow winner and coveted antique... the one with the enormous, inviting backseat she mused, then blanched at the idea that had even occured to her.

Buckled in, he fired up engine, that thanks to his constant attentions, roared like a 747. Pausing, she gave her that look... with those eyes... those ferocious green eyes. His lips said nothing, but his eyes made promises she thought impossible to keep. Gulping, Phoebe crossed her legs and begged for mercy with her own soft brown eyes... but none was offered.

The party was all but a blur to her. They drank, and talked, and danced, and... more than that, so much more. Arnold hardly seemed effected by all the beer, but Phoebe found herself to be wobbly almost immediately. She clung to him for support and... well, support was a good enough reason.

They were an unbelievable little show for the amusement of the other party goers. Phoebe laughed and sang and giggled as she and Arnold made the rounds and gladhanded with Sid and his crew. He said some things, and did some things and she made no move to stop him, and if anything, she worked to the contrary.

After a time, she needed him like she felt he needed her. Retreating to the afore mentioned enormous back seat, she urged his attentions and shocked herself with her on wanton behavior. She kissed him and carressed him, undressed him and made her drunken demands known. During their lovemaking, he was wild and forceful, gently raking his teeth across her throat and demanding her submission, which she gladly gave.

Demure and submissive, she made her desires of him known through whispered demands and whimpered pleas. In the aftermath, he was soft and attentive to her, whispering her name and dark pledges of future encounters. She would remember few specific details, only the feelings and... his eyes.

She lay there on her futan... thinking of him.

Not her useless boyfriend Park, and not her reputation, which was surely in ruins as the word would spread about she and Arnold at Sid's party. She wasn't thinking of her grades or her spotless attendance record. She only thought of him and the green eyes he undressed her with at school.

To all outward appearances, he was the same sweet Arnold that they'd all grown up with, but she saw him as he truly was...

She closed her eyes, and dared to think of all the things she'd asked of him.

This was getting out of hand. If she wanted to have a relationship with Arnold, fine... she'd simply breakup with Park, an idea that was surprisingly pleasing to her. If they were to enjoy each others affections, a reasonable routine of proper time and place would be put into place.

She almost didn't hear it at first, but sitting up, she could just make out the form sitting in her now open window. Clad only in jeans and tanktop, Arnold crouched in the windowsill. Arms crossed over his knees, the moonlight backlit him in silhoette, yet his eyes... almost incandesant.

She sat up, holding her comforter close around her. How had he gotten up here? Had she left her window open, or unlocked? He said nothing and made no move. His breathing, soft and shallow, echoed through the dead calm of her room, slowly being drowned out by her own heartbeat.

She gathered herself, and softly called out his name. With an amazing leap he was from the window to her bedside without a sound, and knelt beside her as she looked deep into those eyes. the sounds of his soft breaths once again became the center of her world.

Slowly rising up, he began to remove his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. Delicious, deep, he was already loving her with those eyes. She could have said a lot of things or done a lot of things... but raising from her blankets to reveal herself to him, she merely whispered "yes" in a low moan.

Oblivious to all else, they were on each other, their coupling seemingly frantic, but with a curious grace to their movements. Locked in passion she begged him to continue, and he commanded her passions. She felt her spine tingle and looking into his eyes, she knew she wouldn't be able to bare it in silence. Lightning quick, he grabbed her head and thrust her mouth against his shoulder, and in a low growl commanded her to bite.

As her passions crested, she did so and endured wave upon wave of ecstasy, as her bite triggered his own climax. She could feel every muscle in his body clench and release, like a shockwave rolling his length. Spent, they crumpled in a heap on her futan after what seemed like hours.

Amazingly, their encounter seems to have roused no one in her household, which to her mind, defied all reason. Lovemaking complete, now was the time for loving. He stayed another hour and a half, gently holding her and whispering her name. She marveled at the bite on his shoulder, and while she'd not broken the skin, the bruise promised to be huge. He smiled at the notion and vowed to show it proudly. She kissed him again, then moved to lick at his throat, his hands continuing to explore her without pause.

As he loved her she softly demanded that he explain himself.

Silent at first, he told his tale between kisses to her throat.

For days now, she'd come to him in his dreams, dressed in the ancient bridal finery of the green eyed people, she begged him to take her. Relentless, she haunted his thoughts day and night. He had to have her, period.

The night at the party, he was relieved but knew it wouldn't be enough, and he had a feeling that tonight wouldn't be either. For some reason, she had been chosen for him by the green eyed people, so large a part of his life, he'd learned over time not to question or even try to fathom their reasoning.

Silently, she considered his tale, but added nothing to it.

His dreams, her dreams, what could be the purpose of all this? Were they fated to be together? Was this a recent development, or planned from the beginning? With kisses and soft words of her own, she embraced her lover for the short time they had left that morning. He would return to her in the dead of night, or whatever time they could steal in daylight hours.

Where was all this to end? It hardly mattered. They were WAY past the point of no return. Even if they were to never touch each other again, she was spoiled by his passions. What man could possibly match what he made her feel? She allowed her tongue to wander to his wound and dallied there for a time.

Maybe what you've told me is truth, or a disarming lie... or maybe I just don't care at this point.


She broke up with Park the following day. Blindsided, he begged, pleaded and blubbered, but to no avail; her heart belonged to another and that was that. Phoebe and Arnold were a curiosity for a short while amongst their peers, this union seeming to come so suddenly.

But soon their celebrate' was eclipsed by the latest student scandal, namely Rhonda's cocaine bust, and they slipped into a comfortable routine of parties and dates with their friends. Phoebe would always look at Arnold differently than her friends.

Arnold went to South America to find his parents, but you returned in his place. You may or may not be the Arnold I knew, she thought, but I love you all the same.

To all outward appearances they were a pleasant but fairly typical junior class couple and lived in the world of their peers with a quiet blandness. Graduation was coming and soon the summer would be here, and with it vacation time. When asked of her plans, she hedged and avoided direct answers.

She and Arnold would be going to visit some old and dear friends of his family. A pleasant summer down south, nothing more.

Her upcoming trip to be formally presented to the green eyed people would be difficult to explain anyhow...