Warnings: "Drug" use (catnip), sex (though vague), shittily named nightclubs, language, poorly thrown-together OCs. There are a few of them—one had "romance" to begin with, but is dumped later in the story… I didn't have any canon cats I could use, except for maybe Exotica, Admetus, and cats that people often use but don't really exist like Victor (who is Alonzo) and George. Perris is borderline John Doe/male Mary Sue. Forgive me.
Notes: Jemima has a "fake name" in this. In the narration, I will always call her Jemima, but others will call her by her pseudonym. Also, this is highly unrealistic, but… the Jellicles are special. This is a prologue, so it's short.
She drew in a shaky breath, wide eyes focusing on the back of her sister, Electra's head. It was far from her first time doing this, but she would never be able to sneak out without feeling nervous, vulnerable.
Electra was asleep. Perfect. With light, silent footsteps, she tiptoed out of the den, ever aware that someone could spot her any moment. Step one of the sneak-out was complete. Crisp, cool air filled the kitten's nostrils. The moon greeted her with faint light, further lowering any chances she had of hiding in the darkness.
All the kitten needed to do now was scurry out of the west entrance without being seen by Alonzo…Alonzo. It pained Jemima to know she was lying to him, but firstly, he was supposed to be with Cassandra, and secondly, it wasn't like anyone asked about her nightly escapades. Why would they? No one knew about them, not even Electra or Etcetera or Victoria.
Jemima looked back at the main clearing before stalking to another wing of the junkyard. She kept careful watch of the things above her and to the sides of her. No Alonzo, her father, or anyone else. Step two was nearing its end.
As Jemima passed the junkyard gates, a huge sigh filled her throat and passed her lips. Step three began there: run to the Warehouse as fast as possible. Ignore other cats, Pollicle, everyone. Just get to the Warehouse safely.
Jemima steeled herself, took a deep breath, and ran. Cold air caressed her fur, sinking into her flesh. She felt exhilarated. The feel of the pavement under her feet kept her going. An open-mouth smile crept on Jemima's face as the neon green and pink sign of the Warehouse approached. She could already smell the catnip; hear the deafening beats of the music.
There she was, standing before the large brick building that was the Warehouse. Various cats gathered around the side entrance, while unkempt, barely-legal humans hung around the front, adorned in ripped jeans and short skirts.
Jemima made her way to the entrance, turning on her sex appeal. She had worked hard to perfect it, combining Victoria's grace and Bombalurina's sensuality. She also threw in a bit of Etcetera's enthusiasm to liven it up a bit. She created a perfect, new personality. She had toms wrapped around her finger, best friends in the form of queens whose real names she didn't know. Secrecy and lies were a big part of the Warehouse's workings, but it was all in good fun.
A slender arm snaked around Jemima's waist. She closed her eyes, welcoming the contact. A switch went off in Jemima's head. Jemima was gone for the night, replaced by…
"Sillabub, baby," said the voice of a young tom. His breath hit Jemima's face, hot and steamy. Jemima smiled, resting her head in the crook of his neck and touching the tom's jaw line with her fingertips.
This tom, which she knew as Perris, could have very well been considered her mate. But most cats at the Warehouse found the term "mate" to be restraining and formal. They stuck with human terms like boyfriend and girlfriend—turned to tomfriend and queenfriend. Jemima-Sillabub was Perris's queenfriend.
Perris was a very handsome, sought-after tom. His was mostly white, with brown, tan, black, and orange spots. Perris adopted a spiked red collar, much resembling Jemima's own. What Jemima loved most about him wasn't that he was sexy, or popular, or a good dancer, but it was his eyes. His right eye was blue and his left was brown. She adored that.
Victoria thought she was special for having white fur. Jemima had seen at least three white cats at the Warehouse, but she hadn't seen any cats anywhere with two different color eyes.
"I missed you," Perris said, planting butterfly on Jemima's neck. His paw traced patterns up Jemima's side, causing her to shiver.
"Missed you too," Jemima cooed. Any cat that knew her as "Jemima," as opposed to "Sillabub," wouldn't have recognized her voice. She had changed everything about herself that she could, just for the warehouse.
"You guys gonna fuck out here or are you gonna party first?" came a queen's voice. Jemima's eyes, now with a sensuous glint to them, traveled slowly till they landed on a gold and brown queen with a white face—Tallulah. Tallulah had to be Jemima's best friend, above the kittens from the junkyard.
Jemima laughed as the queen—not much older than herself—sauntered over to the pair. "The night is young, my pretties," Tallulah stated, slender yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Jemima found herself between two toms, jumping and moving to the music. Any drama from the junkyard was gone now. The only things around her were the warm, colorful lights, repetitive sounds of house music, and cats she barely knew—when it got right down to it—but cared for deeply.
As the music changed, a paw rested on Jemima's shoulder. Over the music, she could hear Perris say her name—her assumed name, Sillabub.
Perris had that glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face. Lips slightly parted, Jemima nodded, taking Perris's paw.
The two cats maneuvered through the crowd, and before she knew it, Jemima and Perris were outside in the now chilly autumn air. The sky was black, the moon trying to shine through dark clouds.
Jemima breathed in through her mouth, then looked at Perris, who was watching her with pleasant eyes. "Let's make this quick," said Jemima exasperatedly, putting her paws on her hips. Perris cocked a brow, smirking.
"Oh, really?"
"You know I'm kidding," Jemima whispered, kissing Perris on the cheek. The tom smiled, taking Jemima by the paws and leading her behind the building.
Jemima ignored the faint music, the smell of catnip, and the faraway sounds of other cats. All that mattered was the feel of Perris against her, the heat, the passion. Jemima couldn't help the squeak that passed through her lips, earning a grin from Perris.
She ignored that they had been lucky so many times. She ignored the discovery of her secret life, the disproving looks Jennyanydots and Jellylorum would give her, and especially the way, Jemima knew, her parents wouldn't be able to look her in the eye.
Jemima closed her large eyes, sighing blissfully as Perris pulled away from her. She leaned against the wall, turning to watch as Perris rolled to sit next to her.
This was part of her daily routine, and a bigger part of her life. Wake up, be a Jellicle. Pretend to go to bed. Go to the Warehouse. Dance, party, have sex with Perris. Her life was perfect—and it would be even better if she got to be at the Warehouse all the time. She loved it.