Curse of the Cat Woman from Channel 6 - 15 (Patreon)

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If she didn't look worried before, the petite brunette now wore a decidedly concerned expression and quickened her pace to a swift jog, holding her heavy specs in place as she bounced through the dusk.

Irma rapped her knuckles rapid-fire against the large plate glass window

"We're closed!" Replied Tony without looking up. He was busy sweeping up damp offcuts of auburn hair from the immaculately glazed tiles.

"I'm looking for April. April O'Neil"

Tony sighed and straightened. He turned slowly to face Irma and approached the door.

"Irma. Right? Shit. S'pose you'd better come in."

He opened the door fully and motioned Irma inside.

"You just missed her. She left in a kinda hurry. Even forgot her coat" He motioned to the coat-rack, still adorned with April's long jacket

"Listen, Irma" Tony continued, his voice dipping to a solemn register "You and April are close, right? Is April.. Okay? She wasn't quite her usual self. I mean.. Kinda like she was on Valium and in heat, y'know? I told her, y'know, I'd normally love to date clients but..."

Irma stepped forward and standing on her toes impatiently cut him off mid-sentence "Yeah, yeah! Do you know where she went? Where is she now?!"

Tony blinked as he gazed out through the window into the nightfall. He clicked his neck and scratched his head as he hummed low.

"Honestly Irma, I don't know. You could try the local bars. She seemed kinda keen... okay, REALLY keen on taking me for a drink. Look, are her and Casey doin' okay lately, 'cause it really seems like they need to have a talk when he gets back..."

He added with a low mutter "...Poor bastard"

In a barely occupied bar several blocks across town, a lithe woman in her mid thirties toyed with her hair as she admired her reflection in the various glasses and taps. The empty vessels and lazily relaxed demeanor hinted that April O'Neil had been hard at work defeating a mighty thirst for a little while now. She was smiling distantly to herself as she brushed her fingers through the feathered tips of her new bob when suddenly her eyes switched focus and her nose sniffed and twitched at the air. Usually one to adhere to a strict diet of veganism and daily yoga, April surprised herself at the growling that came from her stomach. The smell of a steak sizzling in the kitchen was devilish heaven to her. She stared at the entrance to the kitchen as all other surroundings faded to an unimportant blur, but nothing struck her as odd about the throaty rumble that was pouring from her throat. Her low purr of anticipation broke into a stifled yelp of excitement when the steak exited the kitchen and made it's way to it's patron. She tracked the steaming plate's movement across the bar with acute focus and jealous licking of her lips. Had she been slightly less preoccupied, she may have been alarmed by the fact her canine teeth seemed somewhat pronounced than usual, sharp at the tip but the feeling of such a capable jaw just fed her feelings of hunger.

"I'll have one of those!" She turned to the bartender "Mmm.. Rarrre!" Came the answer when asked how she'd take it. The barman arched an amused brow at his customers strange rolling of the R's as he took down the order and sent it out to the kitchen. Steak, rare. Fries. No salad.

A brief shard of clarity struck her mind as she was about to raise glass to her lips once again.

Ten years of veganism. What am I doing? Ordering steak? And rare?! That's so gross. I should probably cancel the order. No, that's just awkward, besides, I doubt there's any press in here 'cept for me, I can probably get away with it just this once. I mean, it's not like the cow's still alive anyway, and it does smell sooo goood!. A girl's gotta have some secrets I guess. Dammit April! What's with you lately? God, I should probably apologize to Tony, I just...

A drop of saliva landed on her forearm and pulled her out of her tormented reverie. As much as she'd tried to deny and repress her desires, the need for flesh in one form or another had turned April into a dazed, salivating mess. Albeit a shapely, finely styled mess clad tightly in rich yellow and thigh high leather boots.

When the steak arrived in front of her she squealed excitedly and clapped her hands together with a deep, smiling breath. What was she just thinking about? Probably not important.

As tempting as it was to pin the slab of rare meat to her plate with her fingertips and just tear it to pieces with her mouth, she restrained herself adequately enough to cut into the barely cooked flesh with the provided serrated knife.

The few other Patron's did their best not to stare at the glamorous local celebrity who was making devastatingly quick work of the huge portion along with loud, lip-smacking sounds. Delight that often bordered on the sensual was distracting enough that no-one noticed the more subtle and genuinely strange occurrences taking place.