Pretty Human


>Sitting on the corner smoking a cig

>Another day another dollar

>Maybe quite a few of them you think, as a car that's only got room for two pulls up in front of you

>"Get in" a voice commands from inside

>Normally you'd discuss price before climbing into anyone's car, but the rings on the fingers of the kitsune behind the wheel tell you she ain't gotta worry about money.

>You get in the car and she drives you a condo in the rich part of town

>As soon as you reach her penthouse she shoves you into the bathroom to take a shower because "you reek of other women."

>Maybe you should've discussed fees first after all.

>Get out of the shower feeling cleaner than you have in months, something about that soap

>It was French or some shit

>You find your client sitting on her bed, now clad in silk pajamas instead of the business suit she was wearing before

>She sips a glass of wine and offers you one sitting beside her

>You refuse

>You'd learned not to take drinks you didn't pour yourself after you woke up next to that oni.

>Your ribs still popped a little sometimes

>Getting down to business, you finally ask this chick exactly what she wants as you crawl on the bed in the most seductive way you can manage

>She seems unfazed and pulls out a clip of money from under her pillow

>As you watch she counts out ten hundreds and lays them on the bed between you

>Holy shit.

>"Well sweetheart, with money like that, looks like you get to be the first one to see what's under these threads."

>You didn't normally take off your clothes, but a little topless petting sounded okay. You kept yourself up since gals like to feel you up a little, anyway.

>She scoffs and reaches under the pillow for something else

>"For that kind of money you're gonna have to do a lot more than take off your shirt. Are you any good with your hands?"

>Hell yeah you're good with your hands

>You handle the comb she handed you like your name should be Jacques. Or Jack or Jacuzzi or however that was pronounced

>You took pride in making sure all your customers left either so relaxed or so wet they could barely walk.

>Even the lamias

>For a grand this one was getting both.

>She wasn't reacting as you held her trembling face to your bare shoulder

>It actually seemed like she was doing everything she could not to enjoy you

>She was gonna be a tough nut to crack, huh? Fine.

>You didn't get many kitsune in your line of work, but you still knew your way around a tail

>You bring one hand to rub that sweet spot behind her ear and slowly slide your hand holding the comb down her back to the base of her tails, using the goose bumps forming under your hand as undeniable proof that she was enjoying this

>She goes even more rigid against you as if that was somehow even possible

>This kind of thing happened once or twice before, but usually only with...

>"This your first time?" You whisper into her ear

>"W-why does that even m- ah!" She moans slightly into your shoulder slightly when you take a love nip at her ear

>Almost before the gasp leaves her mouth she clamps her hand over i

>Kinda cute. More importantly, you were getting closer now...

>Tenderly you roll the base of her tails through your fingers.

>One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

>Even those are standing out straight behind her.

>" You know, this feels better if you relax, cutie."

>"I meditate for fifteen minutes every day, I am relaxed!"

>This was going to be harder than you thought

>If she wasn't going to relax you'd have to make her. She looked like she took good care of herself, but she'd still have to tire out eventually and loose muscles were loose muscles one way or the other. Time to bring out the big guns.

>You forget the comb and move both hands to her tails, running your fingers through the thick fur

>Shit, that felt amazing, you had to find out what she was conditioning with

>Just as she adjusts to you fondling her tails you begin your onslaught on her ears again

>You catch one in your mouth and nibble gently, pulling back just long enough to blow into that little tuft of of fur at the base and send a shiver down her spine so hard she almost convulses and making her ears twitch like she wants to fly away

>She's flushed all over now, her pale skin taking on the pink of a Carnation

>It's time.

>Without letting go of her tail or leaving her ears ignored you slide your right hand down and give her ass a good hard squeeze

>That did it. There had been an itty bitty curl to her back and her knees were a little bent before, but as soon as you gave that squeeze she gasped and went ramrod straight.


"That was the gasp of a woman that was enjoying herself but wouldn't admit it. You could handle that too.

>"Don't?" You parroted, stopping the hand on her butt, but not the one on her tails, "didn't you hire me because you wanted someone to treat you like a woman? How you gonna let that happen if you keep acting like the boss lady in bed?"

>You're still waiting for her to give you permission to keep going like you know she wants when the timer in your watch goes off

>"That's all?"


>It was getting dark and you wanted that money somewhere safe before it got late.

>She nods and hands you hour payment, slipping an extra hundred into the stack

>You frown and hand it back. No one gives tips unless they want the tip, especially ones that big.

>"I don't take tips. You wanna pay me more, come see me again."

>You knew she would

>It's another Saturday. Business is slow because you're smack in the middle of that week between pay days.

>That's fine, you're still coasting on that one rich chick, you barely need to be out today

>A racing engine catches your attention as you make sure your nails are clean for the millionth time that night

>Bitches hate dirty fingernails

>You try not to look too eager as the sports car stops in front of you and the door pops open.

>"Get in." A familiar voice demands. You do.

>"Anyone ever tell you you're kinda forceful?"

>"No one's got the balls."

>"Figures. What, you some kinda CEO or somethin'?"

>"That's none of your concern."

>You were just trying to be nice, but now you feel like teasing her a bit.

>"Oh, stiff AND secretive. Fine, Miss CEO."

>"That's Madam President to you."

>"Sorry, your highness. Tell ya what though, I'm starvin' and there's this great place not too far from here, what say we drive by?"

>"Isn't dining with your um... clients a bit unprofessional?"

>"Clients? You mean my johns? I guess so, but I work better on a full stomach, ya know?"

>You only took a small measure of pleasure in seeing her squirm at the word "john"

>a little prodding and a few turns later you pull up in front of the "restaurant"

>It's a hole in the wall burger joint that may or may not have running water frequented by companions and actual whores alike. Needless to say the food is fuckin' amazing

>You hop out of the sports car and order for both of you before she gets a chance to change her mind

> A few minutes later you plop down on her hood with a Sloppy Joe and dig in.

>Madam what's-her-face- is still in the car, torn between letting you ruin her upholstery and sticking around this place. You pat a spot on the hood and make yourself comfortable; you could take all night to eat if you needed to.

>Realizing that you're not leaving until she eats too the kitsune reluctantly climbs out and sits next to you.

>You flash her your award winning smile and hand her the burger you ordered her. Two patties, extra bacon. If there was anything that could rival what you were going to do to her later it would be that burger.

>She stares at it like she's not sure where to start

>Eventually she opened her mouth as wide as she ever had when not yelling at some underling and took a bite.

>Her eyes lit up and the tails she had been hiding behind herself fanned out on again, forgotten

>Not like that last bit mattered, she couldn't not attract attention sitting on a car like hers.

>"Thish ish amashing!"

>She covered her mouth and blushed after forgetting herself for just that second.

>"S'alright, I like a girl that knows how to talk with her mouth full. It's a good talent, know what I'm sayin'?"

>She blushed even harder and sort of flapped her mouth in response

>You offer her a drink to get rid of the awkward silence

>"You only bought one?" she asks

>"It's plenty big enough for two, ain't it?"

>"There's only one straw!"

>"So? You're not one'a those girls that gets all bent outta shape out... what was it, an 'indirect kiss' are ya? They make a good lemonade too, try some."

>She glares at you before defiantly before snatching the cup and taking a long drink

>"Ya know I'm kinda surprised you didn't go for a kiss last time, Princess. Most girls are all over that."

>"Not so loud! And I'm not a princess!"


>You lean in, dropping your voice to a breathy whisper as you lean in and run your hands through her hair.

>"Can't call you much else when you won't tell me your name, can I?"

>"I told you to call me Madam- oh forget it. It's Ivonne."

>"Ivonne, Ivonne... Ivy! Perfect, it fits ya."

>"I was being generous letting you use my first name, you know."

>You shrug

>"Anyway I'm done, let's blow this joint."

>She readily agrees and the two of you speed off into the night

>Ivy pushes you into the shower again as soon as you get to her place

>That soap is still incredible

>You think about sneaking a few of the paper wrapped bars into your pocket, but then you realize you're not in some cheap hotel

>You're basically in a really goddamn NICE hotel

>You slip a bar into your back pocket

>There's nothing to greet you in the bedroom but the sound of a blow dryer and two glasses of champagne on opposite night stands

>You switch the glasses.

>But wait, she might've been expecting you to do that so you switch the glasses back

>Then again, she might've been expecting you to expect that she would expect that you would- oh fuck it. Gotta give trust to get it, right?

>You pick up the glass closest to you and take a sip. But not before sniffing it.

>Tastes like money and fizz

>A few minutes later Ivy walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel

>You let out a low whistle, but there's something you need to make clear

>"Ya know I don't put it in, right? I may be a whore but I'm not that kind of whore. Well, I mean..."

>"I know, I just thought if you had more skin to work with you could-"

>Ha, there was a good sign. She had nice thighs, too.

>"Smart thinkin'. Come here and I'll show you what I can do when you open up."



>You motion the kitsune over to the bed

>She downs her champagne in one go and crawls to you on all fours.

>You pull her closer as you both stand on your knees, bringing your hand to an ear while the other sneaks into the seam of her towel

>Ivy really is more relaxed this time; before long she closes her eyes and pushes into your hand for more


>You yank the towel off with one motion and pin her body against yours before she can try to cover herself or pull away

>She protests, of course. “I didn’t ask you to-”

>”No,” you whisper into the ear you aren’t scratching, “But ya wanted me to from the start. That’s why ya barely tucked that towel in. You ain’t gotta tell me, I’m here to make your fantasies come true.”

>You could tell she was going to start whining again, so you switch up your technique and start stroking up her ear with your index and middle finger, catching the edges of that tuft of fur with your thumb at the start of each stroke

>She’s nuzzling into your hand again in no time

>Now that she’s calmed down again you let go of her waist and stroke her hair instead. She seems to like that.

>After a few minutes she sighs and murmurs “Your shirt’s still on.”

>”So take it off.”

>”B-but I’m paying you and I want you to do it!”

>”You’re payin’ me to make ya feel good too, and if I have to take my own shirt off I’d have to stop.”

>Before you can blink her hands are fumbling with your buttons

>You go in for a surprise and nuzzle into her shoulder as she undoes the last button

>The cute little gasp she lets out tells you it worked

>”You’re beautiful, ya know that?”

>”You can’t say that when you haven’t even seen all of me.”

>She took the bait hook, line and sinker

>”But I’ve seen your face, and your hands, and your body in that suit. Don’t think I ever seen you smile, but if you really want me to see all of you…”

>You walk back on your knees. There’s a ticklish feeling as her tails wrap around to cover what your body was hiding before.

>You can’t see shit and she grins at you from behind one of her tails

>”Do you want to see everything?”

>”Yeah, I wanna see it all.”

>”So move my tails.”

>Whoever said turnabout is fair play was an asshole

>Still, you’ve got your job to do, so you brush her tails away, making sure her hair tickles past her nipples as you do.

>Pert breasts, neither large nor small but perfect for her frame and tipped by small nipples poking into the air. A tight stomach you wouldn’t expect to find on an office rat. A narrow waist to match her stomach. Her hips were actually pretty wide too, but all that fluff behind them made them look smaller when she had clothes on. The holy land was bare aside from a tiny blonde landing strip, and the milky thighs below seemed to go on forever.

>This chick was a bombshell, guys should’ve been paying to be with her, not the other way around.

>”I was right.” You say with a smile

>She was naked and showing herself to you, time to ramp things up.

>You move in again and run your fingertips from her shoulder to her palm lightly, it was the kind of gentle touch that felt better than a firm one.

>She catches your hand at the end and intertwines her fingers with yours

>”You said you wanted to see me smile? And kissing is okay?” She asks as she brings her hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer.

>You nod. Women loved kissing, you’d lose business if you didn’t allow it.

>”No tongue.”


>Ivy’s lips are soft and hot. Kitsune were good with fire magic so maybe that explained it, but it was almost like she was burning.

>She pulls away to show you her honest smile, only to come back for more and more, pushing a little more insistently every time. She was ready.

>For the second time you take hold of that round butt. There’s no complaint this time, only a low groan into your lips as you squeeze at your own pace.

>Hands reach for your waistband, but your belt is on tight and the lock is set, so she’s getting anywhere there. Ivy’s getting pretty worked up, maybe it was time for you to-

>Suddenly there’s something wriggling in your mouth. Your first instinct is to bite down, but you fight that back and jerk your head back instead.

>”Whoa now.”

>”But… I want…”

>You know exactly what she wants, but she’s not gettin’ it.

>You shush her by putting a finger to her lips, then maneuver behind her, wrap your arms around her and lean back until you’re lying on the bed with her on top of you. No more kissing, no more crotch grabbing. She could vent all she wanted like this.

>Almost as soon as you stop moving she has one of your hands in hers and pulls it to her desire, soaking wet and somehow even hotter than her lips.

>Ivy tries to guide your fingers inside of her, but orgasms aren’t your thing. You do pretty much everything but, really. For more dangerous customers this would be the part where you back off and cool things down, but you don’t think Ivonne is going to cause any trouble.

>Instead of moving away and making sure she can’t touch herself either, you reposition your hands so her fingers are at her own entrance.

>”Touch me,” she whines.

>”I’m not that kinda guy. Gonna have to do it yourself.”

>You can tell she’s disappointed, but under your whispered encouragement and her own fingers she’s soon on her way to the moon.

>You ignore her insistent grinding against your half flaccid cock and focus on all the places she isn’t touching. You tug on a nipple with your right hand while your left explores every inch of skin you can reach. Her slick thighs, that firm ass, the belly convulsing under her own attentions, all of them are yours and you’re going to make use of them.

>This woman’s going to have the best damn wank of her life.

>Her moans reach a near howl and you focus on kneading the pale globes bouncing on her chest as she bucks into her hand

>You have an idea. She’s using her middle and ring finger in her pussy with her palm rubbing her clit in fine form, but for the grand finale…

>”Give yourself another finger.”

>She does

>Immediately there’s an explosion and your pants are soaked. Ah, she was a squirter. You’d have to change when you got home.

>As she basks in her afterglow you continue to hold her and stroke her hair.

>You whisper sweet nothings about her hair, her smell, her personality, her smile, you throw the damn book at her. Or at least a few passages. Had to be careful not to sound like a flatterer, even if women did get kinda stupid right after cumming.

>After a few minutes Ivy sits up and looks back at you, calmer now, but still very naked and sweaty.

>”Hey, if I payed you more could we maybe-”

>”Ivonne I’m a companion, not a whore. You wanna get your fill of spirit energy or just have a good ride or whatever I know some guys that’ll do ya good if ya get my drift, but it ain’t gonna be with me.”

>Ivy’s ears droop a little at that.

>”I don’t want anyone else.”

>That sounded dangerous

>”Anyway, can you drop me back where ya found me?”

>”Sure, just give me a minute.”

>Almost as fast as you could towel off Ivy is dressed and twirling her keys. Pretty good fast for a rich chick.

>You should’ve called a cab, with another grand in your pocket spending thirty to get home would’ve been nothin’ and Ivonne had a lead foot.

>So,” she yells over the roar of the engine, “Tuesday, are you free?”


>At the last possible second the car screeches to a halt just behind the limit line.

>”No one’s even coming, you baby. Anyway, I want to reserve you for the day. Fifteen hundred, sound good?”

>”Fifteen? You pay me ten for an hour.”

>”Fifteen is more than you could make in a day anyway, right?”

>Not more than you COULD, but probably way more than you WOULD. Men were easy to get for free, and even if they were a bit pricier hookers would go all the way when you wouldn’t. Well, at least you didn’t have a pimp.

>”Seventeen hundred.”


>”Fine. What do you want me for a day for, anyway?”

>”You’ll see. I want you to bathe in the morning and not again until I tell you. Don’t smoke, either.”


>There’s a man in your head with a bullhorn shouting “IT PUTS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN OR ELSE IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN,” but then that guy gets swept away by one thousand five hundred dollar bills and it’s quiet again.

>The car grows silent as you stare out of the window wondering what this woman’s deal is. You shouldn’t complain, but there’s something going on here.

>”You know, you’re pretty good,” Ivy says eventually

>”’Course, you hired one’a the best.”

>”You almost sounded like you meant all those things you said about me. Like my hair and my tails and my… breasts.”

>You spot a flush to her cheeks even with the blue light from the dashboard.

>”I did. People like you, they can smell bullshit from a mile away, best not to try.”

>”So… all of it?”

>”Yeah, ya got a nice pair and whatever you’re putting in your hair works. Don’t think too much about it, awright?”


>By that point the car has pulled up in front of your corner so you pop the door open to get out. There’s still one thing you need say before you go though, so once you’re out you turn and stoop down to look inside.

>”’Ey Ivy, anyone ever told you you look like Richard Geere?”

>”Of course not!”

>”Good. Nobody ever told me I look like Julia Roberts, neither. G’night, sugar tits.”

>”Good night.”

>You don’t even wait around to see if she gets what you mean, she’s a smart one so she’ll figure it out. That or she’ll pay someone to figure it out. Either way is good.



>Tuesday morning, 5 AM

>You’ve just woken up in a cold sweat after that dream with the ushi oni AGAIN

>Well, it’s not like you’re going back to sleep so you drag yourself out of bad and take a shower

>The water is actually lukewarm today

>That soap you sto- took from Ivy is still miraculous. Your skin is so moist you barely need lotion and even a quick scrub was enough to wash off the rest of that giant slug gunk.

>You would suspect some kind of Sabbath magic, only you don’t feel the sudden urge to fuck little girls and your chest is still as large and manly as ever.

>Now that you no longer feel like a dirty whore, just the regular kind of slightly less dirty whore, you make yourself some coffee. Strong coffee.

>You only fill the mug about half way, then Irish it up until it’s almost overflowing

>That oughta be enough to keep you buzzed until there’s actually people out on the street to hire you

>You groggily remember that you’ve already been hired for the day. A few of your regulars might miss you.

>As a companion you fill a unique niche: you’re there for those that can’t get a man and don’t have the guts or the means  for a full-on prostitute. There aren’t many companions out there, ‘course there aren’t many customers either because men are easy to get for free and hooking pays more.

>You serve the broke, the incapable and hopeless romantics. Lots of bugs, that one anemic oni and a few lovesick sahuagin, mostly

>It’s a living, but barely

>You think about budgeting better while you pull breakfast from your fridge that for once has food in it and works at the same time


>No telling what’d happen if Ivonne ever got a man or stepped up to real prostitutes after all

>Actually, you knew exactly what’d happen: you’d have to start selling yourself for real like you almost did before she came around. To hell with that.

>It’s a long time before the time you set up to meet Ivy, but eventually the time comes and you head off toward the usual spot.

>An elf approaches you as you enter the edge of your usual territory.

>”Heeeey, I recognize you!” she says

>”Yeah, lotsa people do. Come back tomorrow and we can talk s‘more.”

>You had to hurry or you were going to be late. You try to brush the elf off, but she stands in front of you

>”I’m lookin’ for something a little heavier than the usual fare, whaddya say?”

>”I say you must be colorblind if ya see any pink on me.”

>Pink was the color legit hookers used to show themselves. Sometimes it was subtle like a wristband or a ring or something, sometimes the boys walking the streets looked like neon flamingos, but there was always something.  

>”Come ooon, you must be good with your hands, right? I’ve got a thing for fingering, I’m looking to have a guy blow a load in my ass while he’s three fingers deep, how ‘bout it?”

>Your old man had a saying about elves he used sometimes. How’d that go again? “Around elves, something something, whore like your mother.”

>That didn’t help any. Luckily you’d been around enough to know how to spot a cop anyway.

>”How ‘bout you go down the street and hassle the whores if ya want that, pig.”

>”But the ones down the street aren’t as cute- hey, I’m not a cop! If I was a cop I couldn’t say I wasn’t a cop, ‘cause that’d be encampment, so I can’t be a cop!”

>That old trick? You were a companion, not a retard. Still, you were used to the police hassling you to make sure you hadn’t picked up hooking. You slide out of the situation as fast as you can, swearing on various things that you weren’t hooking and eventually swearing at the elf as you walk away.

>You get to the usual spot five minutes late. You half expected to see that sports car waiting for you, but Ivy wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out in an area like yours. Instead she’d probably circle arou- hey, there was her car, you’d just missed her.

>About a minute later the car pulls in front of you and the door flies open

>There’s no “get in,” just the idling of the engine and the hiss of a woman trying not to explode.

>Customers had all sorts of ways of venting when they were pissed off. Lots of those ways involved raping or hurting their companion.

>Warning alarms should’ve been going off in your head

>Why weren’t warning alarms going off in your head?

>You get in the car and face the seething kitsune

>”Hey, sorry I was late. Ran inta some trouble with-”

>” You know, it would’ve been really nice if the ONE single FUCKING thing I was looking forward to today would start out, right!”

>She wasn’t actually mad at you, but she probably had a shitty day and now she was lashing out. This would be where the painful things started happening. Why were you not worrying about that again?

>”Wanna talk about it?”

>”No I don’t want to-!” Her anger withers as she looks over at you. “I don’t. Sorry.”

>A nod is all the response you give. Better wait for her to cool down before you say anything else.

>You count the street lights until Ivy calms herself down and speaks again.

>”You know, I still don’t know your name.”

>”They call me Anonymous.”


>”I only get your Safe Name?”

>”You were expecting somethin’ else? I am a professional.”

>”Right. Do you ever go to any nice French restaurants, Anonymous?”

>”I go to the Olive Garden sometimes.”

>You definitely do not like the smirk on her face when she looks over at you

>”Well then, you’re in for a treat.”

>”The hell is this? You takin’ me on a date now?”

>”Not at all. You said yourself that you work best on a full stomach, right? I’m just making sure I get the most out of you.”

>Whoever said turnabout is fair play was a REAL fucking asshole

>You get back to Ivy’s pad and she takes off to shower, but not before shoving you into a bathroom with a weird bag and telling you NOT to wash up.

>You open the zipper on the bag to find a white dress shirt, a black tie and a black suit with vest.  She even gave you fresh socks new shoes and a belt.

>The belt was a problem. Your belt was an anti-rape model, one of those heavy duty things made of titanium and kevlar, with a combo lock that kept the belt and your zipper from moving

>No one was getting at your cock short of ripping your pants

>It’d caused a few drunken wet legs, but it’d saved you even more times

>This could be a long setup to get that belt off; no way you could wear it with snazzy threads like those

>With a sigh, you change; Ivy hadn’t raped you or thrown you off an overpass yet, right?

>After dressing up like a chimp you wait in Ivy’s bedroom until she leaves the bathroom in a red dress. It’s a backless number that started just low enough to show a hint of cleavage, floor length and as you stand you notice she’s nearly as tall as you are with her heels on. There are elbow gloves to match and she’d done her hair up. With those five tails waving behind her as she walks Ivy looks…


>Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.


>She glides over to you and caresses your cheek with one of those satin-covered hands before she notices something and frowns.

>”You’re not wearing your tie.”

>You put as much finality into the statement as you can, like a stubborn ass digging into the dirt.

”I don’t wear ties.”

>That and you don’t know how to tie one

>”Let me have it.”


>She sticks places her palm at chest level and insists.

>You stare each other down until you finally give in and smack the tie into her hands

>She takes it and has it fastened around your neck before you even get to complain about it much. You have this mental image of a wife doing the same for her husband for just a second before you shake it away.

>”You look nice.” Ivy says after stepping back and giving you a once over.

>”I look like a monkey.”

>”A handsome monkey. The sleeves are just a tad short though, what’s your shirt size?”


>”Uh-huh… well, I didn’t do too badly for a guess.”

>What? Was that the wrong answer? And was it you or were Ivonne’s tails wagging?

>You get to the restaurant, all hot and stuffy because Ivy turned on the heater on the way over and smacked your hand every time you tried to loosen your tie

>The restaurant is classy as fuck; your waiter talks with a French accent, that table cloths are actually cloth and every table holds a tiny flickering candle

>Also, you can barely read the menu.

>Some of the descriptions don’t even make sense

>What the hell was an es-kar-gaht? Whatever, it came in a shell, must be some kinda seafood, you could order that.

>But what if it was some kinda chick food? Ugh…


>You take a sip of water as you try to read the rest of the menu

>It almost comes right back out

>”What the hell is this?!”

>”Mineral water. Refreshing, isn’t it?” Ivy looks happy with herself as she smirks at you over her steepled arms

>”Yeah, it’s uh… nice.” It tastes like piss, but you couldn’t say that while she was paying.

>Oh god, you hoped she was paying. The prices were nuts.

>The waiter comes over to take Ivy’s order

>She spouts some crap that makes her sound like she was born with a crescent up her ass then the waiter turns to you

>”Yes, I’ll have the, uh… Es-kar-gaht ow byuwer, please.” You did your best not to stammer over the name; it rolled off your tongue like a Lego.

>”Good, monsieur,” The waiter nodded as he scribbled something on a notepad. “And what for the main course?”

>That wasn’t the main course? Was horse dover some kinda fancy French word for appetizer? You hadn’t picked out anything else that probably wouldn’t make you vomit. Time for plan B.

>“Well, um, Pierre, What do you recommend?”

>”The Salade de Couscous is quite excellent. It comes with—”

>”Why don’t you order the poulet a la moutard et au miel?” Ivy interrupts, that smirk still plastered on her face, “It’s quite good here.”

>”Yes, well, I’ll have, uh, that.Thank you, sir.”

>The waiter nods, then comes back with the wine Ivy ordered

>She got the bottle, but the price of a glass was enough to keep you boozed up for a week

>You go easy on your glass, partly out of guilt

>Ivy is on her second before the time the appetizers are out


>”So what was that earlier?” Ivy demands as she pours herself a third glass.


>”’Thank you sir?’ You don’t even make proper sentences when you talk to me, but you’re polite to the waiter?”

>You shrug. “Gotta adapt to the person. That guy, I talk to him like normal, he probably spits in my food or somethin’. You though, normal’s good for you.”

>”No it’s not, I want you to talk like a gentleman and treat me like a lady!”

>”Naw, ya don’t. You want me to treat you like a girl. I don’t know what you’re up to yet, but you’re havin’ a lotta fun sittin’ over there teasin’ me, yeah? That ain’t somethin’ a lady would do and it ain’t somethin’ a gentleman would take.”

>”Go on.”

>Ivy’s expression is hard to read, but you decide to go on anyway.

>”Well, that’s all I know for sure.” You have to stop to think of what to say next. “It works out pretty good for me though. Normally I hafta be Anon the gentleman or Anon the good boy or some crap like that. I ain’t gotta do that around you though, because what I am is what you want. It’s kinda nice to take the mask off for once, ya know?”

>The eyes looking at you from across the table are unnerving. Most of your clients look at you like a thing, no different from a massage chair or somethin’. ‘Course, that’s not all of ‘em. The anemic oni for example looks at you like a piece of meat she doesn’t have the strength to take for herself and your favorite sahuagin looks through you, like she’s being held by a  lover she’ll never have. Not Ivonne though, she’s looking right at you and it’s fuckin’ WEIRD. What’s even weirder is that you kinda like it.

>The waiter comes back with the first of your food, both you and Ivy thank him for it. You pick up your fork and stare at what he left in front of you.

>”What the fuck did I order?”


>”Escargot,” Ivy replies, “It’s a snail dish. A delicacy, in France. You have good taste, you know?”


>The white Velveeta with crackers and fruit she’s eating looks a lot better.

>”Wanna trade?”

>”No thank you. It would be a shame if you missed out on your first escargot in favor of a simple brie, after all.

>You wouldn’t mind a little shame at this point. But you saw the price, you couldn’t just not eat it

>Gathering your courage you pick up one of the little shells, ignoring the fancy tongs and staring at the green goop covering the snail thing within

>In that moment you swear never to fuck with this woman that hard ever again; she could screw with you in ways you only dreamed of.

>That done, you slurp the snail into your mouth and chew

>It tastes like a garlicky eraser

>Delicacy your ass, someone needs to introduce the frogs to buffalo wings

>With the wine flowing (mostly toward Ivy) and both of you a little less hungry the conversation finally starts to flow

>Turns out Ivonne had some big meeting earlier and it hadn’t gone so well. That explained the blowup earlier. It also explained why she booked in advance; she knew she’d need to unwind. You still didn’t understand the shower or smoking rules, but that couldn’t stay a mystery for long either.

>Eventually the waiter approaches your table again. Silent dread consumes you as you imagine just what Ivy might’ve gotten you to order. Frog legs? Some weird thing made out of bird’s nest or cow shit?

>It’s chicken. Poulet a la moutard et au miel is chicken. Why couldn’t they just fucking call it chicken?!

>”What’d you get?” you ask Ivy as she rips into something brown.

>”It’s liver. Wanna try some?”

>“Think I’ll pass. Chicken’s great though, thanks for not settin’ me up with somethin’ weird.”

>”Well, I figured you’d learn your lesson after the snails. Besides, I want you to enjoy dinner a little. Oh, ask the waiter for another bottle, would you?”



>The two of you leave the restaurant full and happy

>Really happy, in Ivy’s case; she’s downed most of two bottles of wine to your two glasses, so you talk her out of her keys, convincing her that you were a man and every man should know how to drive a stick

>You strip every gear on the way back to Ivy’s condo. At least you only stall the car twice.

>You get back to the condo, and as soon as Ivy opens the door (on her fifth try) and staggers off to the kitchen

>You make yourself comfortable on the couch as Ivy wobbles to you with a bottle of scotch and two glasses in her hands

>”Whoa Ivy, you sure you wanna keep drinkin’?”

>”C’mon, I’m try’na unwin’ aren’cha gon help?”

>”You want a massage or somethin’ yeah, but gettin’ wasted with clients ain’t somethin’ I do.”

>That was another good way to get raped. A glass or two was fine, but no more.


>She pouted. You didn’t know her face could make that shape.

>”Fine, gimme a glass.”

>”Yay!” She exclaims before filling your glasses a little past the brim

>”Hey Nonny, let’s toast!”

>”Who the hell’s Nonny?”

>”You are ‘Nonymous, duh. So what should we toast?”

>”You don’t know? It was your idea!”

>”But I thought you’d come up with somethin’...”

>Her ears droop and you feel like you just kicked a puppy. How does Ivy manage to be so cute when she’s not being an ice queen?

>”Fine. To… happy kitsune.”

>”To happy kitsune!”

>your glasses clink together, sending more of the no doubt expensive liquor onto the couch and your pants.

>You nurse your drink, Ivy downs hers then refills it and makes herself comfy against your shoulder.



>Did you actually just respond to that?

>”I wanned ta ass cha somethin’.”

>”Long as it ain’t my weight or my age. A gentleman never tells, ya know.”

>”Why’d a gentleman take my soap?”

>Oh shit!

>”Hey listen, I can pay you back, it was just a spur of the moment kinda thing and—”

>”I’m not mad, I jus’ wanna know why.”

>”How are you not mad?”

>And how were you dumb enough to ask that? You might be a little drunk too.

>”I got it for free and you didn’t mess with any of my jewelry or stuff, so I’m kinda okay with it.”

>Come to think, she had left a few things lying around that first night. You hadn’t touched them because you weren’t interested and stealing anything more than hotel soap was beneath you.

>”Yeah? Where do they give out stuff like that for free?”

>”Well, it costs eighty bucks a bar, but I got it for free…”

>”Eighty bucks a bar?!”

>”Answer meeee!”

>Aw geeze, there was that pout again.

>”Well, uh…” You scratch your cheek to give yourself time to think. “I didn’t think it’d be that big a deal. And it was good soap ya know?”

>”What wuz so good ‘bout it?”

>”I got out and my skin was all soft and it smelled nice. It didn’t get too sudsy, but it still felt so good going on I didn’t really c— wait, why are we talkin’ about soap? Are you the weird kinda drunk? Let’s do somethin’ else.”

>”Great idea, Nonny! Let’s dance!”

>”But I didn’t say- hang on Ivy, I don’t think you and me do the same kind of dancin’!”

>And by that you mean her idea of “dancing” probably consists of more than you standing still while she rubs her ass against you.

>It’s too late to stop her though, by the time you manage to finish whining she’s at the stereo chucking around CDs

>She sticks one in and some classy crap comes out of the hidden speakers

>You already feel out of place

>Ivy kicks off her shoes and tugs you to your feet

>”Look, I’m serious, I got two left feet and my moms never taught me, so…”

>”Hehe, then let mama teach you.”

>With that Ivy takes your hand and wraps an arm around your waist

>”Look it’s easy, I’ll le- ow! Take your shoes off!”

>”My bad.”

>The two of you continue like this for a while, you stepping on her toes, and Ivy correcting you every time you mess up, giggling like an idiot the entire time.

>It’s hard to pick up when your instructor is so drunk she can hardly walk straight, but eventually you start to get the hang of it and Ivy pulls you in closer and wraps her tails around you for good measure.

>There’s a certain charm to this; the booze makes you feel light and fuzzy, Ivy’s tails make you feel warm and fluffy, and you’re facing each other so you get to look each other in the eye the whole time. It’s… nice. Nothing like what you’re used to, anyway.

>”Hey Nonny.”


>”Yer pretty bad at this.”

>”And you’re pretty drunk at this.”

>Part of the reason you were having a hard was because Ivy never put her feet in the same place. You also had to stop her from tilting sometimes.

>”Fufu, guess that makes us even.”

>”Yeah, even worse. What time you got?”

>”Mmm, twelve three hundred thirty seven?”

>”That’s twelve thirty seven, Ivy. Maybe we should head to bed, yeah?”

>”Yay, time for the main event!”

>After untangling yourselves you head to Ivy’s room and she hands you a set of striped pajamas

>Uh-oh. The dress pants were pushing it, but these have no security at all. One good tug and the bottoms would be around your ankles. You’re reminded that Ivy is pretty far gone too as she stumbles out of her dress right in front of you.

>”Hey, can’t I just wear my pants?”

>”You can’t wear normal pants to bed, you silly~ ‘Sides we match, look!”

>You did. Actually, it looked like she grabbed a second pair meant for you; her pajamas were baggy on her and the sleeves went down to her knuckles. With no slot for her tails the shirt rode up around her midriff too. She looked ridiculous. Cute, but ridiculous.

>She’d definitely planned this out, but you weren’t sure if she just planned on having fun or a “good time.” Still, there was that feeling that everything was going to be okay.

>”Oh, fine.”

>”You don’t hafta put the shirt on if ya don’t wanna,” Ivy says with a sloppy grin

>Everything’s gonna be juuuuuuuuust fine.

>You duck into the bathroom and change into the pajamas, making sure to hang the pieces of the suit back up like you got them.

>Back in the bedroom Ivy is waiting for you under the covers. She pulls them back and pats a spot next to her when you walk in the door

>As soon as you lay down she mounts you. No, it’s more like she lays down on top of you. There’s a difference, but you’re not really sure what.

>Alarms should be going off in your head again, but they’re dead silent. You were gonna have to fire whoever installed those things.

>You can see Ivonne’s nose working as she looks down at you.

>”Hey Nonny, you smell nice. ‘Specially when you’re not wearing that cheap cologne.”

>Hey, I LIKE my cologne.”

>” I know, ya wear lots.”

>With that she drops her head to your nape and sniffs. She moves down to your armpit, then your arms, then slides beneath the covers. You instinctively grab your waistband when she does that, but Ivy doesn’t even reach for your pants. She does spend a decent amount of time at your crotch though. She sniffs all the way down to your feet, her breath and the movement of her nose tickling you the entire way.

>She pops back up and nuzzles her head into your chest when she’s done. That’s your cue.

>”You do smell nice~” Ivy sighs as you stroke her ear and watch her tails thump under the comforter in turn. “Hey, what do I smell like?”

>You think about it for a moment.


>”Shaddup and cuddle, you jerk.”

>You could do that. You leave your right hand to touch her ears in all the right ways, but leave your left to wander elsewhere. The material of her pajamas is silky and smooth under your fingertips, like a second skin. You let yourself glide over her sides and back, just barely touching her in that ticklish way.

>Ivy rewards you by sighing or giggling occasionally and wiggling to get even closer to you. She’s really into it when she lets her guard down.

>You’re reminded again how soft she is when she presses against you. And oh god, those tails. You enjoy touching them almost as much as she enjoys having them touched. So soft and warm with both of your body heat…

>You keep the stimulation low and slow; it’s late and you planned to sleep over anyway. Soon enough Ivy is completely limp against you.

>You’re gonna have to fall asleep like this too, but with her still smiling in her sleep it’s hard to complain.



>You wake up with your legs tangled in a mess of fluffy tails. Ivy grumbles as you get out of bed; there’s more than a little cursing mixed in as the light hits her eyes.

>You head to the kitchen, then the bathroom and come back with a glass of water and an aspirin. Ivy downs both without letting go of her head.

>You’d never seen bed head as bad as what Ivy's rockin’ before. Well, if you count the tails it’s more like bed body. She looks like five cats got in a fight in a balloon factory. Part of that is your fault; you hadn’t been too worried about her doo when you were with her last night.

>”Hey ‘nonymous,” she moans after dropping the glass on her nightstand, “would you please kill me?”

>”Had a few too many, huh? You shouldn’t pay for services like mine if you’re gonna get too drunk to remember 'em, ya know?”

>”I wasn’t that drunk, I still remember everything.”

>”Yeah, that’s what they always say.”

>” I do remember. Like the part where your French is crap, how you were nicer to the waiter than me and the way you raped my gearbox on the way back.”

>Hangover. Cranky. Right.

>”Yeah? That was only the beginning of the night though. You remember the dancin’ too?” For added effect you lean in to kiss her nose as you finish talking.

>”I remember dancing too,” Ivy says with a blush. “My toes still hurt.”

>Change of plans. The way you see it Ivy still has you for the rest of the morning, you aren’t about to let her stay grumpy while you’re on the job.

>You bring another glass of water and suggest that the kitsune take a shower so she feels better. She agrees.

>You follow her.

>Ivy looks back at you when stop her from closing the bathroom door, but decides not to make anything of it. She really is getting used to this; she doesn’t even give a second thought to stripping in front of you.

>You give a lot of second thoughts to stripping in front of her. Being shirtless is no problem, but just last night you had problems wearing pants without a belt, now you were about to get in the shower naked with her? This was going beyond risky and into retard territory.

>The kitsune finishes getting the shower ready then turns to look at you before stepping in. “You coming in or what?”

>Here goes nothing.

>There’re only a few things more funny looking than a wet kitsune. All that fluff got turned into something soggy hanging off of five rat tails like moss in an old tree; only water could do such a good job of washing away that regal image she normally has.

>Ivy’s shower is huge, easily centaur-size; forget room for two there’s room for a mosh-pit. Ivy’s expression as she reaches for the soap says she probably wouldn’t mind punching a few teenagers in the face, neither.

>You make sure you’re delicate as you pluck the bar from Ivy’s hands

>”Anon, what the hell are you doing?”
>”My Job.”

>And you’re still fuckin’ good at it. There’s not a washcloth in sight, so obviously Ivonne is a soap to skin kind of girl. Lesser men would prepare to enjoy the running soapy hands all over the fine piece of woman in front of them, but you? You weren’t even going to pop a boner. You were focused on seeing what areas needed the most attention, not checking her out. Mostly.

>You lather up the soap bearing the same brand stamp as the bar you sto— took earlier. Good enough for her guests, good enough for her, huh? It smells like lavender though, the bar you have is unscented.

>With exaggerated grace you take her hand and begin to lather her down. Her muscles are tense, especially her shoulder. You spend extra time there before lathering up again and moving to the other arm.

>”I can wash myself, you know.”

>”Not while ya look like you’re ready to maim somethin’ ya can’t. Now put your hands on the wall, I wanna get your back.”

>Ivy grumbles something but listens anyway

>You’re suddenly aware that the stance has her standing with her ass sticking towards you, the water hitting her back forming little streams then flowing downward and drawing your gaze with it.

>You could bounce quarters off of that. It’s real damn obvious Ivy is big into yoga or pilates or whatever fad exercise rich chicks are into these days. You hope she never stops.

>Wait, back off. Time to run a mental check.


>Yup, still soft. Damn you’re good.

>With the distraction out of the way you shut off the shower. It’s already plenty warm and steamy in the bathroom and the water would only make your hands less slick while you’re working.

>You start at the nape of her neck and dig in hard. Lots of people hold stress there and you could tell by looking Ivy was like a brick.

>She sighs as you rub out the tension between her shoulders, but you’re not done yet.

>You have to wrap an arm around her waist for leverage when it comes time to knead her lower back with your knuckles. Your hips naturally come together, you hope she’s too focused on how good your massage feels to notice.

>Once you grind the knots out of Ivy’s back you head back up and wash her front without making her move. This is still a shower, after all.

>By the time her nipples have a chance to harden you’re already done with Ivy’s breasts and down to her navel. No problem.

>Her legs are a bit more of a challenge; not only does washing those force you to admire what her workout does for those, it also puts your eyes at ass level.

>For some reason the musical stylings of Sir Mix-A-Lot come to mind.

>Legs are a lot harder to do while your client’s standin’ up, but you do your best to give those a good rub down too, trying not to notice the shaved curve of her vulva while you’re at it.

>You turn the water back on after you’re finished with both and direct the stream where it needs to go to get all of the soap off.

>Ivy turns to you with a glint in her eye as soon as you’re done rinsing.

>”Your turn,” She grins as she grabs the soap.

>”Yeah, no, I wash myself.”

>”Not while you look like you’re ready to club a baby seal you don’t.”

>What was she- oh, goddammit. One of these days you were going to cut that traitorous bastard off. You’d been doin’ so well, too!

>”How about we pretend you didn’t see that?” You plead as you take a step back from the beaming kitsune.

>She advances as you retreat

>”But then we’d have to pretend I’m all insulted and pouty, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”


>”Of course. It’d be a disgrace if a man spent as much time touching me as you just did and didn’t have a little reaction, right?”

>”I, uh, I guess?”

>”Right. Now that that’s settled it’s your turn for a good scrubbing.”

>Soapy hands on your chest push your back into the wall you already backed up against. You briefly consider whether a knee to the cunt or a palm to the chin is the best way out of the situation before noticing the look in the kitsune’s eyes.

>There’s definitely lust smoldering there, you’d put some there on purpose, but really it looked more like she was having fun than preparing to rape you. And weren’t you there to show her a good time?

>You relax against the cool tile and let Ivy wash you.

>Her technique is a lot different from yours; you massaged, she just feels you up, making sure to trace the outline of every muscle she finds. It still feels good though and you got rid of cranky hangover Ivy so you can’t really complain. She even avoids touching your junk even if your ass does get more attention than it deserves.

>Ivy breaks out the shampoo and the two of you wash each other’s hair. You notice in passing that it’s the same brand as the soap. She must really like their stuff.

>She’s got way more hair than you do, so you’re at it long after she’s done.

>You can tell she enjoys the attention, giggling occasionally with her head nuzzled against your neck as you work the shampoo in on her head and move onto her tails. It takes effort to ignore the softness of her breasts resting against you.

>It’s a good thing Ivy’s rich, she’d go broke buying enough product for her tails otherwise. You could swear you drain half the bottle on those things.

>The kitsune turns and stands on her toes to give you a quick peck on the lips as you start the rinse.

>”Thanks. I feel better now.”

>”A glass of water and some pills’re all you need for a hangover.”

>”Oh? You’re not taking any credit for a happy customer?”

>”Well, a little sexual healin’ helps too.”

>”Is that what that was?”

>”Strictly professional.”

>the fox girl smirks like she doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t say anything more. You’re beginning to have your own doubts, too.

>Somehow you can’t seem to resist the urge to give her a light slap on the ass on her way out.

>Hoooooooly shit that was dumb. There a lot— and you do mean a lot— of ways to invite a rape, and that’s probably second to walking outside with no pants on.

>”Hey! Keep that up and I’ll have to call the cops on you for trying to seduce me while you’re on the clock.”

>That was it? Ivonne must’ve been a monk in the past life. Still, you need to make sure you don’t do anything that stupid again.

>Now that you’re done mentally chastising yourself you step out of the shower and into a halo of warmth. You think it’s Ivy for a second, but then you look up and realize there’s a heat lamp in the ceiling. Snazzy.

>Like three towels later you’ve manage to get most of the water out of the tails in front of you. >Right as you’re wondering where the kitsune hides her blow drier she nudges you out of the bathroom “so she can finish.”

>As you watch she summons three flickering balls of fire and sends them spinning around her body. They vary in size and color as they dance around her, weaving in and out of her tails with especial care and sending the hair on her head fluttering in the breeze as they do their work.

>For the thirty seconds or so those fireballs are at it you feel like you just opened the oven door, but when she steps out all of her hair has its usual bounce back.

>”Nice trick.”

>”Huhu, thanks. I couldn’t tell you how many times I singed myself learning. Beats a blow drier though.”

>After that your host gets robes for both of you and it’s time for brushing. Time for you take the stage.

>Ivy absolutely glows under your attention and the two of you chat as you work the kinks out of her hair. Lots of what she says is about her job; she doesn’t seem to like it. The hours, the pressure, the people, the politics, she hates all of it, but she keeps going because she’s good at it.

>She somehow manages to say all of this without telling you what she actually does. That takes skill.

>”If you hate your job that much why don’t ya just quit?” You only meant to think that, but somehow it ends up spilling out of your mouth as you listen.

>There’s a flash of a frown in the mirror before the kitsune speaks. ”It’s not that simple, you know? People are depending on me. The whole company is.”

>It’s too late to backpedal, so you decide to just plow forward.

>”Fuck all of ‘em. If they make yer life that hard fuckin’ quit. They’ll figure it out. ‘Sides, you’re a smart one. Bet you already got enough saved up to retire right now anyway, yeah?”

>”Yes, but…”

>You don’t push the issue anymore and the conversation moved into happier areas.

>Ivy rearranged her schedule so she’d be free until the afternoon and you make full use of the time, lounging around together, touching fluffy tail and sometimes just talking. It feels… natural. And there’s something unnatural about that.

>Ivy makes a late lunch for the two of you that she whips up like a pro. It's a hot sandwich and a salad for the two of you, and a three pouches of semen capsules for her. It's not even the fancy stuff with extra vitamins and "preservatives," just the plain junk the clinics provide, and lots of it. Or at least you think it's a lot; semen's never been a nutrient for you. 

>She shrugs when you bring up the amount of cheap crap she just swallowed.

>"It helps keep me in control with the way a certain someone operates. Besides, boutique semen and the stuff from the clinic is all the same when it comes to getting what I need. If there's no love I don't really want the stuff, you know?"


>"Good, I'd hope not."

>Somehow your talk after lunch turns into a shower product quiz. Yes you noticed that the scent of the shampoo and the soap were the same, yes you felt the quality of the shampoo, no you weren’t dumb enough to expect huge results after one wash.

>If you didn’t know better you’d think it was some kind of sales pitch. Oh. The pieces are starting to fall into place.

>Eventually the time comes when Ivy has to go in to the office. After paying you she hesitates by the door as you’re ready to leave but gets over whatever her issue was and hands you two business cards before you can ask whats up.

>”These are for you,” she begins. This is the first time she’s ever had trouble looking at you. “The top card is mine. In case you need anything.”

>Uh-huh. It’s your average business card, only the printed phone number and email are lined out and replaced with handwritten ones.

>”This your personal number?”

>”Everything but my measurements.”

>The fox flushes up a bit when she realizes how lame her own joke was.

>Normally you would’ve at least cracked a smile, but you were too focused on the card. You didn’t give out contact info and you didn’t take it. There were expectations with that, suggestions you didn’t want to give. Also, it looks like she started to draw a heart next to the phone number, but changed her mind and scribbled it out. You should hand the card back right away, but you can’t. It doesn’t feel right. Instead you shuffle it behind the other card and ignore your gut.

>This time you take notice of the company name. It’s the same one stamped on Ivy’s soap. Aha!

>”Who’s Charles?”

>”The manager at our store downtown. There’s a position open there if you want it.”

>”Yeah? What’d I be doin’? Spinnin’ in office chairs and makin’ phone calls?”

>”You’d be selling product. It’s a sales job, eight an hour plus commission.”

>”That’s it? Here I thought you’d be offering me some posh desk job with benefits where I’d never have ta actually work again.”

>”Look, I’m… I’m not playing favorites here, okay? All I’m doing is offering you a chance. You want benefits? Go earn them, become a store manager or something. You’ve got taste and you’ve got skills you can use doing whatever you want, I think you could do something bigger with them.”

>“Like a centaur?”

>”You know that’s not what I mean. Whatever, just give Charles a call if you want to give the job a shot. Tell him Richard Geere sent you.”

>”I get it. You thought up a new way to use me, huh?”

>”I guess. I think I just want to see you put to good use though. Is that a problem?”

>”Naw, I’m used ta bein’ used. I’ll think about it.”

>Thinking about it was already more than you should’ve been doing. The right response would be “sorry, but you can have these back.” No considering, no favors, no exceptions.

>You pocket both cards. The things this woman makes you do…

>There’s an almost physical change in Ivy as she shifts back into business mode. Too bad, you were gonna miss the happy kitsune you spent most of the last day with. The Ivonne that speaks to you now is the same one from the car that first night.

>”Please do. I’ll be able to find you in the usual place when I’m ready, right?”

>You grunt a response and open the door before one parting line comes to mind.

>”Hey Ivy, you don’t gotta get drunk or hire a companion to cut loose and smile, alright?”

>”Have a good afternoon.”

>There’s something oddly final about the click of the door. Maybe you’ll be the only one thinking tonight.



>It’s a nice Wednesday afternoon. The sun is shining, johns have been rolling in all day and they haven’t been all that demanding.

>You know it’s going to be an even better day when you hear the racing of an engine and the squealing of tires down the block.

>”Evenin’ sweetheart.” You grin as you stoop to look into the window. “Lookin’ to have a good—”

>”Get in, get in, hurry up and get in!”

>You’ve seen her annoyed, you’ve seen her drunk, you’ve seen her sleepy, but you’ve never seen the kitsune look this freaked out before. Ivy’s always straight to the point though, you know she’ll spit out the reason soon so you hop in without asking anything more.

>”Four thousand, all expenses paid. Are you in or out?” Ivy’s voice is crazy intense as she spits out the number.

>”Four thousand for what?” At that price it sounds less like she wants to cuddle and more like she wants you to break someone’s kneecaps.

>There’s a momentary pause as the woman driving you figures out how to describe the situation.

>”I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend.”

>This was gonna be good. You turn to the window as you answer so she can’t see you grin.

>”I’m in.”

>After another mandatory shower you wander through the house until you find the kitsune in the study

>She’s hunched over a desk scribbling away, there are already a couple of sheets of paper covered in ink at her side. Without stopping her pen she motions you to sit down in a chair next to her.

>”Start reading,” she commands as soon as your ass hits the cushion, “you need these memorized by Friday night.”

>You pick up the first page and look over it. It’s full of personal details. Favorite food: liver;  favorite color: red; birthday: April 5th; star sign: Aries; shoe size: I would never tell anyone this, if someone asks it’s a trap. The list goes on covering a bunch of basic facts you’d expect a boyfriend to know. Interesting.

>You didn’t get much information about your job this time to start, the time to ask was now.

>”So what’s goin’ on here to get you all freaked out?”

>”Mmm… my mom called today.” Ivy takes a second to put the words together, but her hand doesn’t stop moving. “She’s been bugging me even more about not giving her any grandchildren yet so she tried to set me up on a date this weekend. I ended up telling her I had a boyfriend to make her call it off so she said I should bring him over instead.”>”Why didn’t you just say no?”

>”Mom gets kind of… forceful.”

>”Runs in the family, huh?”

>”Shut up and read.”

>She does a great job proving you right. You decide not to make a big deal out of it and go back to reading. The two of you talk into the night about the things on the list, you asking questions about things she wrote down that need more explanation and she answered. It’s a trip down memory lane for her and way too much to take in for you.

>You shuffle through your packet once Ivy gives up and slumps over the desk rubbing her wrist

>”I can’t write anymore.” The kitsune sighs.

>”Good, I can’t read any more. Here, lemme help with that.”

>Ivy looks over at you while you massage her writing hand. “You know, I still don’t know anything about you. We have to pretend to be lovers and I don’t even know your real name.”

>”It’s Marco.”

>Ivy examines your face before she speaks. “That’s actually your name, isn’t it? What happened to being a professional?”

>You shrug. “It’s a special situation. ‘Sides, I don’t think I gotta worry about you doin’ some kinda voodoo with my name.”

>”I would hope so. The whole names as words of power thing is a stupid superstition anyway, it doesn’t even make sense. In this world it’s so easy to find out someone’s true name it’s barely worth bothering to begin with.”

>Another shrug from you. “Yeah, still it’s convenient not to have anyone say anythin’ when I tell ‘em my name’s Anonymous. It feels kinda like wearing a mask, ya know?”

>”Oh, I know.”

>”So do I got a role to play here? What’s my angle?”

>”You’re a consultant.”


>”And we’ve been dating for a few months. I described you to the letter so we don’t need to worry about personality or anything, maybe just your wardrobe and we can take care of that tomorrow. It’d be nice if you spoke a little better though.”

>”I can handle that, but let me get somethin’ straight. Your mom starts askin’ you questions about your boyfriend and you describe me?”

> That’s enough to make Ivy break eye contact. “You were the first guy I thought of.”

>That’s still a problem. You’ll need to talk about that later.

>”Anyway,” Ivy continues, “You’re probably the only one that can make Mom think I’m not lying. She’s pretty perceptive so we have to be on our toes, okay?”

>With that the two of you went to bed. You massage Ivy’s arms a little more, but since it’s late you decide not to do anything more intense and just fake sleep breathing after a few minutes. Ivy nuzzles into your chest and before long the gentle rhythm of her chest rising and falling tells you she’s out cold. No rest for you though, there’s still work to be done.

>Moving as carefully as you can so you don’t wake Ivy you slip out of bed

>You freeze when you hear Ivy talking. “Mhmhm, Marco~”

>She’s just talking in her sleep, so you slip your hand out of hers and creep down the hall and back into the study to read more.

>As you look over Ivy’s notes again you have time to think. What are you going to do with Ivy? It seems like she wants to get closer to you, and that might not be so good for her. Was it really a big deal for you though? Why were you so happy to see her earlier, anyway?

>The obvious answer to that last one doesn’t make you at all happy. Argh, you’ll have to worry about that later. You have a lot of studying to do and for now you have to think about impressing Ivy’s mom. It’ll be hard if she’s anywhere near as sharp as her daughter.

>In the morning Ivy whips up a quick breakfast and the two of you head to the mall to shop for some new threads. You hate every single second, but Ivy seems to be having a great time. Watching her smile as she shoves you into fitting rooms and greets you with a new pile of clothes when you come out almost makes it worth it.


>You have so many bags you can barely hold them and Ivy still doesn’t look like she’s slowing down. Luckily for you a long line at the last store you can stand to shop in stops her in her tracks.

>You take a merciful break from carrying the bags and kick them forward on the ground. You still can’t really enjoy your chance to relax because of the line and a crying baby behind you that will not shut up even though its elf mother is trying to quiet it.

>Reading your expression, Ivy gestures with one of her tails for you to look back.

>All five of those tails of ivy’s usually wave like there’s a breeze in the building, but now one creeps closer to the kid. It wavers just on the edge of her vision until it finally catches her attention.

>The crying stops immediately, instead the kid seems transfixed by the fluff dangling just out of reach.

>Ivy keeps the game going, dropping that tail low enough for the baby to reach and touch if she stretches, but pulling it away from her before it ends up in her mouth. The coo the kid lets out in response is a hell of a lot better than crying.

>Her mom smiles at the Ivonne as she bounces the baby. “That was pretty good, are you a mommy too?”

>”Oh no, I’m just good with kids is all.” Ivy giggles. “It’s something about tails, they love pulling on them.”

>Your old dog knew that was true.

>”Well I’m sure you’ll make a good one when you’re ready,” the woman with the girl continues. She’s kinda pushy, for some reason you’re reminded of the Mormons that used to come to your door. “Do you and your husband have any plans?”

>”We’re not married,” You and Ivy say together. You play it cool, she waves her arms in front of her like she’s trying to keep something away. Would it be that bad, Ivy?

>To make an annoying situation worse the woman behind you can’t take a hint and keeps talking. “Well then you’d better put a ring on her, this one’s a keeper.”

>Normally you’d be annoyed, but it occurs to you that you’ve never had a chance to tag team the fox before. This is a golden opportunity.

>”Know what? Maybe we should get hitched. You know, settle down, give your mom those grandkids she’s been bugging you about…” You step in and toss your arm over her shoulder for added effect.

>”Anon, quit joking!” Ivy blusters

>”It’s Marco, remember? You gotta get used to that.” She really did though.

>Before Ivy can say anything else your backup steps in. “Your kids would be adorable too! Just imagine if they have your eyes and his mouth! Oh, the pitter patter of little feet is so wonderful, I know you’ll love it and making children is so fun too! If you two aren’t married I can take care of that right here, you know?!”

>With an excited squeal the woman pulls a marriage license and a pen out of her baby bag and in her excitement a spaded tail pops out of her clothes and wiggles behind her.

>Oh hell, she wasn’t an elf, she was a dark priest!

>Fucking elves!

>She continues talking while you’re still reeling. “I already filled most of it out you know, all you need to do is sign your names and write your address!”

>There comes a time when a joke has gone too far. A wise man sees that moment and stops things from getting crazy. No one’s ever been dumb enough to call you wise, but now’s a good time to fake it.

>”I, uh, I think maybe—”

>Ivy snatches the papers out of the dark priest’s hands and scribbles something on them before thrusting the pen into your hand. There’s a sudden predatory glint to the kitsune’s eye and you don’t like it.

>”Done. Your turn Marco, come on.”

>”I dunno if—”

>”What? It’s just a contract.”

>”That’s right,” the dark priest agrees with a flushed face as her tail bobs behind her, “this is only paperwork, we can take care of the fun ceremony stuff somewhere more private. Or maybe here, if that’s your thing~”

>”I just don’t want to—”

>”Don’t want to what?” Ivy cuts in before you’re done. “Don’t want to have cute daughters with fluffy tails? Or you do want the daughters but just don’t want to marry me? Are you saying you think I’d have kids with you without being married? Do you think I’m some kind of slut? Do you? Huh?”

>”No, kids are just kinda—” even as you struggle to put your thoughts together into a decent argument your hand moves toward the paper on its own. The fact that both the dark priest and the kitsune are closing in on you doesn’t do anything to help you say no, either.

>Ivy’s words fly out of her mouth now, she’s speaking so fast you can barely tell where one word ends and the next begins. “You just said you wanted kids, didn’t you? We can’t have kids without being married and there’s a priest right here. I know you’re not the kind of man that goes back on his word so easily. Stop hesitating, I already signed, don’t you love me as much as I— ah...”

>Ah? Ah. At some point while she was busy badgering me the kid managed to pop one of her tails into its mouth. A good six inches of beautifully groomed fur are now covered in baby slobber.

>As soon as she realizes why Ivonne stopped talking the priest pulls her tail out of the baby’s mouth. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! Tiara, haven’t I told you you’re too young to shove everything you see into your mouth?”

>While the two women hem and haw over whether or not it’s a big deal for a baby to suck on a stranger you take a second to calm down and look around. Every single person in the store is staring at your group and the line in front of you has disappeared. Once he notices you staring at him the cashier sheepishly calls for the next customer and you drag Ivy to the register before the dark priest can give her any more funny ideas.

>Still, the mother insists on getting one last word in as she slips her card into your hand. ”Come by sometime! We have mass orgy once every Sunday and twice on Friday!”

>Ivy chatters angrily at you as the two of you leave the mall after a trip to the bathroom for an impromptu tail wash.  She’s trying hard, but you can still tell she’s faking her anger like an amateur porn star fakes an orgasm.

>”What were you thinking Marco? I try to do something nice and you get a complete stranger to help you bully me!”

>”C’mon, you’re the type that likes a boyfriend that teases ‘em.”

>”Don’t give me that, you were just having fun!”

>”Never said I wasn’t. ‘Sides, didn’t you have fun too?”

>Ivy’s angry facade is broken in an instant; she can’t help but grin back at you as she replies. “I did, didn’t I?”

>”Yeah ya did. And is this comin’ from the girl who tried to bully me into siginin’ a marriage license? What were you gonna do if I signed it? We could be married right now, ya know.”

>”Are you sure?”

>Ivy reaches into one of the shopping bags and pulls out the forms with a smirk. It’s barely legible, but if you look where she signed it says “Not A. Signature.”

>”A wise guy, huh?”

>The kitsune puffs her chest out slightly at your mock insult. “Don’t underestimate me when there are contracts involved. You’re going to take responsibility for getting my tails covered in baby slobber, by the way.”

>”Wasn’t that her fault for takin’ a joke farther than it should go? Still, it might be best to humor her.

>”How’s that?”

>”I’m making you brush them until they shine.”

>They did that anyway. You were going to do that anyway. Whatever, it isn’t like you minded.

>”Uh, fine?”

>”Good, I’ve got a new brush you can use. But first, how about Chinese?”



>Ivy bought way too much. You have to be her boyfriend for three days and she bought you enough clothes for a month. No wonder your arms were tired.

>After you pick out a few pairs of clothes Ivy tosses ‘em in the wash so they don’t smell new and the two of you go over your game plan.

>Ivy’s mom is a tricky one; Ivy’s convinced she’s more wily but her mom is still pretty crafty. Ivy’s sister Joyce shouldn’t be much of a problem, but apparently she’s really aggressive, so you’ve gotta be ready for that. You and Ivonne work well together though so as long as the two of ya stick to safe topics you’ll be fine.

>Friday morning comes, it’s go time. You discover why Ivy bought you so many clothes as soon as it’s time to load the car. Your one suitcase fits neatly in the trunk, her pile of luggage makes you have to sit on the lid to close the damn thing. She probably does have enough clothes to stay for a month if she needed to.

>You and Ivy hop in the car for the drive back to her old house in Monte Granito City. The ride is pretty uneventful but her face is tense the entire time. That doesn’t give you a good feeling.

>Ivy does somethin’ else to worry you as soon as you’re off the freeway, too. Namely, she parks the car on the side of the road, unbuttons her shirt, hops over the console and straddles your lap.

>”What the hell?” This obvious setup for a companion rape slash murder doesn’t even concern you anymore, but this still came out of nowhere.

>You don’t get an answer right away; Ivy’s too busy rubbing her head into your nape like a retard and grinding every inch of her exposed skin she can against you while she’s at it.

>Cars honk as they pass. Ivy doesn’t give a fuck.

>When she’s done not-fucking you Ivy slides back into the driver’s seat to button her blouse and fix her hair.

>”So, uh, do I gotta tip ya for the lapdance? I’m all outta ones.”

>”Shut up. You don’t want to walk around here without someone’s scent on you. I should mark your spirit energy too, but we’ll have to do that later.”

>”Is the city that tough?” You ask as Ivy starts the car again and merges back into traffic. You’ve heard the rumors, you know you wouldn’t want to be a companion let alone a hooker in this town, but was just walking around that risky?

>”Mmm…” Ivy pauses for the time it takes her to change gears. “It’s more like I don’t want to take any chances. If messing up my hair and getting a few honks is what it takes to keep you safe, then so be it. Speaking of, would you hand me the brush in the glovebox?”

>So she cared, huh? That was kinda touching.

>”So why’d ya stick around if ya had to worry about a guy gettin’ raped that much? You had yer dad to worry ‘bout, right?”

>”Yeah, Mom kept him pretty well marked. Besides, with a store like ours this the the best place we could be. Well, here or the other portal. Any kind of port would work too if there wasn’t already so much compe- anyway, my parents wanted to stay here so we did. The MGCPD isn’t as inept as people make it out to be either, they’ve just got a lot on their plates. I guess that’s what the hired help is for.”

>Wait, you have notes on this. Let’s see… “civilized” mamono like kitsune got to be some of the first things through when the portal to Cokyne opened. [Boring political and economics stuff], so Ivy’s folks opened a store on either side of the gate and made a killing selling goods from Cokyne on Earth and vice-versa. Since Ivy’s sister’d taken over running the joint they’d opened up a few more stores, the family business was turning into a chain.

>”So, uh, they wanted to stay close to their sources?”

>”More like they liked it here. I don’t blame them, for all the craziness that goes on this is a beautiful city.”

>”Beautiful people, too.” How you manage to keep a straight face saying that is beyond you.

>Ivy is a little less skilled hiding her smile. ”Save the flirting for when Mom’s around, loverboy.”

>She pulls into a driveway, driving normally for once. The house she stops at isn’t what you expect. It’s not small or broken anything, but hardly what you’re sure Ivy could afford. Upper middle class, maybe? Ivonne really wasn’t kidding when she said her folks let her keep her own fortune.

>There aren’t any maids or butlers waiting to carry Ivy’s mountain of crap in so you’ve gotta do it yourself. You’re behind Ivy halfway up the steps when the door opens and her family steps out.

>It’s easy to tell they’re related, and it’s not just the bushy tails (four on the short one, five on the other, you note at quick count). They’ve all got those same blue eyes and regal bearing too. Maybe it’s a kitsune thing.

>The shorter of the two walks right past Ivy, grabs you by the collar and sniffs you over like a crack addict after a powdered sugar factory explosion.

>”You must be Joyce.” You mutter as the fox steps away, doing your best not to sound too gruff. She was smart enough to pull that stunt while your hands were full, otherwise you probably would’ve shoved her off and made a bad impression.

>The fact that Joyce looks so much like Ivy helps you not go off on her though. Seriously, she’s like Mini-Ivy. Shorter height, shorter hair, smaller tits, fewer tails, even though they’re sisters it’s weird.

>The girl in front of you, the one Ivy must have to try really hard not to call Mini-Me, doesn’t respond, but steps back and looks you over. It’s the same way you’d look at someone if you were thinkin’ of pickin’ a fight.

>Her nose wrinkles as she finally makes up her mind. “You don’t smell right.”

>Fucking- no, today is a day to look good. You ignore her and turn to the woman more calmly walking down the stairs; it’s time to impress.

>”Ivy,” you begin with a raised eyebrow, “how come you never told me about your other sister?”

>The ol’ “is this your sister?” bit. It’s an ancient trick and about as unbelievable as it is old but older women never get tired of hearing it. This one’s face lights up as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

>It’s really not empty flattery though; you’ve got no idea how old this woman is but whatever the number she sure as hell doesn’t look it. She’s barely gained enough weight to be called plump over the years and any fat she does have is in the right places. She looks like she’s in her early forties tops, but even the way she moves gives an impression of well-aged grace. She walks the way only a woman that knows how to use her hips can, too. You hate to think it, but she can still give her daughters a run for their money.

>”Oh stop, you’ll make me blush.” Piercing blue eyes shadowed by crow’s feet stare into you in a way that does not fit that statement. “You’re Ivy’s gentleman friend? I’m Sonata, somehow I didn’t get your name.” She offers a hand and you put down Ivy’s suitcase to shake it.

>”Marco. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Man, talking right feels funny.

>”Well come in Marco, dinner is almost ready. Here, let me get that for you.”

>You don’t have to—” Too late, Sonata already has the suitcase in her hand before you can tell her to stop. While you’re still thinking about how easily Ivy’s mom carries that brick, Joyce bustles up the stairs carrying two more suitcases just as heavy.

>Maybe it’s time to hit the gym a little harder.

>”So that’s your family, huh?” You ask Ivy as they disappear inside.

>She doesn’t respond, she’s too busy giving you a look.

>”What? Ya told me to save the flirtin’ for when your mom’s around, didn’t ya?”

>”I still wanted it to be directed at me.”

>”Didn’t say that part, now did ya?”

>That earns you a stronger glare. It’s worth it; even Ivy’s angry face is kinda cute.

>As the last of the fluffy tails bobs into the house you take a deep breath and prepare yourself.

>Okay, into the lion’s den.

>Cops have grilled you less thoroughly. Where are you from? How did the two of you meet? How big is your dick? Joyce got smacked for that one but you’re pretty sure you saw Ivy telling a fish story out of the corner of your eye afterward.

>The new women seem to warm up to you. Joyce’s mouth is still making that n shape, but you’re pretty sure that’s just what her face is like all the time. Sonata is harder to read, but if nothing else she doesn’t seem to think you’re some gold-digging man-whore. Only the last part is true anyway.

>The food is really good too, you can taste a little of Ivy in the seasoning. Cooking must’ve been a family thing when she was coming up.

>At one point all three of the girls disappear and you’re left sitting alone at the table. They’re plotting something, but whatever it is can’t be too bad because Ivy’s with ‘em too. Or maybe it’d be bad because Ivy was with ‘em. Oh boy.

>They come back, the wine starts flowing, and even though you only nurse one glass you’re having as good a time as everyone else. The conversation barely even slows down when Sonata’s late husband pops up.

>With dinner over Sonata hustles the dishes into the kitchen and everyone moves into the family room. You and Ivy end up on a nice loveseat and Sonata and her other daughter are on a couch across from you. The hostess keeps showing off her collection of really old, really strong wine after the move.

>Ivy falls asleep on your shoulder after one more glass, maybe she was tired after all the driving she did. As soon as they notice Joyce is pulling you over to the center seat on the couch and Sonata is covering Ivy with a too conveniently placed blanket.

> Both women sit uncomfortably close; Joyce is practically in your lap and Sonata is wrapped around your left arm so you’re sinking into her breasts. The trap has been sprung, and its jaws are warm, soft, and fluffy.

>”Hey Mom! Mom, hey, do that trick!” Joyce suggests in between gulps straight out of her bottle.

>”Nooo, if I do that I’ll set off the fire alarm again~” What the hell is so pleasant about the old kitsune’s whine?

>”S’aright, I  took ‘em down ‘fore we started.”

>Sonata giggles a little before responding. “Well okay~”

>With that the oldest kitsune makes a ring with her, takes a deep breath and blows into it. You expect some stupid party trick like bubbles or something; instead a jet of fucking flame shoots out of her hand to much applause from Joyce.

>How fucking strong is the shit you’ve been drinking? Did they just sprinkle grape Kool-aid in vodka or somethin’?

>”Oooooh, lemme try!” Before you can say anything to stop another drunk from playing with fire Joyce does the same thing. Her flame isn’t as hot, but it’s still uncomfortably close to your face.

>”Your turn, Marco!” Joyce giggles, holding her hand in front of your mouth.

>”I don’t really wanna-”

>”C’moooon,” Joyce presses.

> “A real man would do it,” Sonata adds.

>”Alright, alright.” You could play along a little.

>You take a breath and blow into Joyce’s fingers. Nothing happens.

>Both girls- no, women- are in agreement on how to respond. “Awwwwww!”

>”Guesh we know what that means, huh Mom?”

>Sonata pulls of the best sage impression you could expect from a drunk before her face cracks into a smile. “He’s not drinking enough!”

>”I think I’m okay.”

>”No way! A strong young man like you must have a good liver, you gotsa use it good.”

>No, you’re pretty sure that’s not how livers work but the two foxes fill your glass again and make you down it before you’re allowed to speak.

>”There’s kinda a trick to it,” Joyce slurs as she leans more heavily against you, “you gotta blow jus’ right. You any good wi’ your mouth, Marco?”

>”I talk a good game.” Good enough to avoid a setup like that, anyway. If these chicks were tryin’ to test your loyalty they’d have to do better ‘n that.

>The conversation goes on with a less flirty tone until Joyce finishes off her bottle and totters away to bed. That leaves you, Sonata and Ivy who’s now snoring so loud you wonder if she’s actually not just pretending to be asleep.

>You think it’s about time for you to do the same, but before the idea is even fully formed a weight knocks you onto your back. Damn that old kitsune moves fast when she wants to.

>The look in her eyes as she looks down on you is enough to bring back those old self-preservation reflexes you thought Ivy dulled. Your hand is balled into a fist before you remember that you’re about to punch Ivy’s mom.

>”Hey Marco, wanna have some fun now that the kids are asleep? I promise this old fox still knows a few tricks.”

>”Ma’am, your daughter is still on the couch. You know, the girl I’m dating? Right. There.”

>Ivy snorts in her sleep to underline your point. She rolls over right after that too… right when things are getting good. She wouldn’t want to miss that. No one would turn away from the show you and Sonata are putting on. Ivy’s actually asleep and this isn’t staged. Oh fuck.

>”So we have to be quiet, that just makes it more exciting!” Never before have you heard someone mix a girlish squeal with a seductive whisper so perfectly before. “Or we can go back to my room and make all the noise we want~”

>Nope, not happenin’.

>”Yeah, I think I’ll call it a night.” You move to squirm away, but the kitsune’s hands are under your shoulders so it’s hard.

>”Aw, you’re going to be that way? Then how about a good night kiss?”

>Shit! Her face is getting closer, gotta think fast! Can’t hit her, can’t get away quick enough, probably can’t push her off… ha, a pillow!

>You put the cushion between your faces and her head stops as soon as she makes contact. There’s a weird slimy noise though, is she…? She is. Sonata is making out with the pillow. At least she wraps her arms around it instead of you so you can wiggle out from under her and grab Ivy.

>Your John really was asleep; while her mom is busy frenching a cushion you shake her awake and drag her in the direction you think the bedrooms are in. Most of your trip is more stumble than walk, partly because you’re kinda drunk despite your best efforts and partly because Ivy isn’t really awake until it’s time to actually open a door.

>Ivy shows you which room is hers and as soon as you’re both inside with the door shut you collapse on the bed.

>”Your mom’s a nutcase, you know that?” You mumble into the comforter.

>”She is not, she just gets a little weird when she’s drunk and one of us brings boys around.”

>”You coulda told me ‘bout that.”

>”Didn’t I?”


>”Sorry. I could’ve sworn I put that in my notes.”

>”Ya didn’t. Anyway, how’d I do?”

>”With what?” Ivy looks confused.

>”You know, your family testin’ me for whatever. You set it up when all of ya disappeared, right?”

>”That? No, we were just talking about how cute you are.”

>There was no way her family was that flirty when someone brings their boyfriend over. Does this mean the trial isn’t over yet? It’s too late for this crap, you’ll think about it in the morning.

>”Hey, Marco? Marco, don’t go to sleep yet.” You were just about to, clothes on or no. “We have to do something else first.”


>”um, your spirit energy and mine, we have to mix them.”

>”Can we not?” ‘Mixing spirit energy’ normally means bumping nasties, both of you know that’s off limits.

>”It’d be weird if we didn’t.” Ivy actually has trouble looking at you for once. “Joyce already said you smell funny because my physical scent but not my spiritual scent was all over you, and since we’ve both been drinking tonight and we’re all alone in my room now… well, what would you expect a couple to do?”

>Crap, she’s right. “You got a plan or somethin’ then, princess?”

>Ivy pulls a dixie cup out of her luggage and holds it out to you blushing.

>”You’re kidding, right?”

>”Well we can’t do it the normal way and it should work just fine. Just go in the closet or something while you’re doing it.”

>”Fine, give me the damn cup.”

>Ivonne hands you the cup and flicks off the light but nudges you back down when you stand up to go masturbate in the closet like you did when you were ten.

>”Let me go first. It should make things easier, right?” The kitsune manages a mischievous smile in the moonlight.

>It probably would; the general effect of the stuff in guys was to make ‘em horny. Most mamono let out little amounts of demonic energy when they were excited, but some of the more magically powerful ones like kitsune or succubi could leak some on purpose. It made for a bunch of gray area rapes and a few uncalled for boners when you were first gettin’ used to the job.

>”Are you ready?” Ivy asks with a hand on your chest.

>”Yeah, but just give me a little, okay?”

>Ivy nods. “Okay. Just a little…”

>’Just a little.’ Yeah, no. Whatever the opposite of a cold shower was Ivy turned it on at full blast. You’re at full mast in an instant and Ivy looks better than you’ve ever seen her when you look up.

>”Marco? Are you okay? Marco?” Ivy calls after you as you sprint into the closet.

>You come back out ten minutes later with a full dixie cup and a clearer head.

>”That much, huh?” Ivy asks with a whistle.

>”S’your fault.”

>”I guess so…” Ivy brings the cup to her lips, then glances over at you. “You don’t have to watch.”

>”Uh, sorry.”

>It’s finally time to sleep. Ivonne crawls into bed next to you and the two of you wiggle until you end up spooning. Ivy talks again once you’re about to drift off.

>”Hey Marco?”


>”Joyce’s room is right next door. Should we rock the bed or moan or something? I feel like we're missing something.”

>”Hey Ivy?”


>”Go to bed.”



>You wake up the next morning with the hardest morning wood you’ve ever had. There’s also a kitsune on top of you. Maybe it’s a good idea to move before one notices the other.

>The fox stirs as soon as you try to slide out from beneath her.

>”Morning you two.” She says with a yawn and a stretch.

>Was she grinding against mini-you, or was that in your head?

>”That’s not what you think.”

>”It’s exactly what I think. It’s okay though, I’d be insulted if you weren’t like that.”

>That again? You’re kinda insulted that she’s not reacting a little more, actually. Guess you can see where she’s coming from.

>No, can’t have thoughts like that.

>”Great. Wanna get offa me now?”

>Ivy’s reply is a simple “no” before she takes off her bra and starts rubbing herself against your bare chest.

>”Do we gotta do this again? We just slept together, your scent’s all over me.”

>”We do. I want you covered in Eau du Kitsune like you’re normally covered in that cheap cologne.”

>”Hey, that stuff’s fifty bucks a bottle!”


>No point in protesting; anything you can even afford is probably cheap to Ivy. Instead you just grunt and take Ivonne’s rubbing like a man.

>Well, not like a man. A man would’ve fucked her. You take her rubbing like a boy.

>She’s thorough about it, too. She moves so much she works up a sweat that both marks you better and makes her slide easier. You can’t help noticing her nipples are hard, as well. Kinda hard to blame her when your morning wood has turned into something else entirely too. You want to think it’s because of that on the dark energy she filled you with last night, but…

>”Breakfast’s ready!” The door flies open as Ivy is in the middle of another down stroke on your chest.

>Both of you turn your heads to stare at Joyce standing in the doorway.

>”Er…” Her eyes wander, you’re not entirely sure if she’s looking at you or Ivy. “I’ll tell Mom to keep it warm.”

>With that Joyce shut the door and you were alone with Ivy again.

>Ivonne finishes one last stroke then sits up on top of you with a nod.


>”The hell was perfect about that?”

>”Everything. You’re so covered in my scent I could still smell it in a trash dump, what we just did looked like something it wasn’t but probably should’ve been and to top it all off I just reminded Joyce that I still look better naked.”

>“Oh yeah? That mean she looks better with clothes on?”

>”No, I still look better then, too.”

>Ivy finally gets off of you to go fishing through a suitcase. As she leans over you notice she didn’t bother putting her bra back on. Ivy isn’t the biggest ever, but that still results in a lot of tit sway as she digs through her bags.

>You gulp and look away.

>”Aren’t you getting dressed?” Ivy asks as she slips into a robe and ties it shut.

>”Ah, yeah.” Actually, you forgot to pack anything to sleep in. You’re rummaging through your stuff for a pair of clothes that don’t need ironing when Ivy tosses a pair of pajamas at you.

>”You thought of everything, huh?” They were the silk pair from the other day, no wonder she hadn’t bothered buying any. “You’re gonna make a good wife one’a these days.”

>”And you’re going to be the perfect slovenly husband. Just don’t tell Mom we said any of this. Oh, and before you ask your slippers are at the bottom.”

>”Thanks, honey.”

>”Can it.”

>Ivy, the one wearing her robe braless is actually the most modestly dressed girl at the table. Joyce is wearing something that looks like a robe but fits like a cocktail dress and the girls’ mom only has on a nightie with one strap hanging onto her shoulder for dear life while the other seems to have given up and is dangling halfway down her arm.

>There’s far more kitsune skin at the table than a man should see this early in the morning,  but the girls don’t even seem to notice. Especially Sonata, who grumbles through the conversation like she’s half asleep until after her second cup of coffee.

>At least it doesn’t look like she remembers anything about last night. That’s a relief.

>Breakfast ends and everyone heads their separate ways after agreeing to go to dinner later. Sonata has to clean up, Ivy has friends she wants to visit and Joyce has work business to take care of. That leaves you alone with nothing to do, so instead of sitting alone you head out to take a look at the family store. There’s a branch not far from the house so you take a walk over in the afternoon after letting Sonata know where to find you.

>For a specialty store the place looks a lot like a supermarket. Bright lighting, sterile lookin’ shelves, none of that dimly-lit ramshackle crap that makes a place look like a mom ‘n pop shop.

>The products at least are the kinds of things you’d expect: tons of aphrodisiacs from the dem—er, dark realms but with some standard ethnic store selection tossed in. All of it looks pretty fresh, considering. Moving away from the front section you find a bunch of stuff floating in jars and some dry goods. You know, weirdly prepared vegetables, carpets, exotic embroideries, pottery, that kind of thing.

>You could get lost in the place wandering around and Googling what the hell some of that stuff even is, but you’ve got a goal in mind. Instead, you memorize the store’s layout and THEN wander around and Google shit to kill time.

>There’s some pretty wild stuff there, from drops that stop you from screaming to pills that somehow make conversations with a march hare seem normal but with side effects that sound a lot like LSD. None of it’s illegal, but you get the feeling that’s because no one’s gotten around to banning it yet.

>You spend the afternoon doing that until it’s almost time for dinner, then hide in a spot near the door and wait.

>Right about the time you expect her to show up, a bundle of fluff walks through the door and approaches the cashier. You can only see its legs through the shelf you’re behind, but the way they move those must belong to Ivy.

>She still doesn’t have your number, so since she can’t let her mom know that Ivonne would’ve had to come up with an excuse to come down and pick you up herself. You already made sure none of the staff know where you are, so unless Ivy cheats and gets Joyce to look for you on the security cameras she’s going to have to find you the old fashioned way.

>”Marco?” She calls out. There’s a hint of concern in her voice. It’s kinda cute that she’s worried, but then around this place you might easily have been off someplace getting  raped or mugged.


>Ivy stops and you can see her turning to try and pinpoint your voice.

>”I’m not playing games with you, we need to go.”

>She caught on as fast as you’d hoped, but then everyone did. Marco Polo ain’t the most difficult game in the world. ‘Course, Ivy’s sadly mistaken if she thinks she’s not going to play. You stay still and quiet until the kitsune starts talking again.

>”Hey, we’ve got reservations, come on.” No one’s said the magic word yet, so you don’t make a peep. “Marco?”

>There it is.


>”For crying out loud... Marco.”




>Ivy’s approach is all wrong. She can call your name as much as she wants to make you answer back, but even if she’s following the sound of your voice you can lead her around a store like this forever before she finds you, let alone catches you. You managed to drag your parents into an hour long game once, and there were two of ‘em back then. Her heels are clacking on the ground too so you can hear her even more easily than she can hear you.

>You snake around the aisles leading her in a circle for a good three minutes before she’s smart enough to take her shoes off. That’s when things get serious. All at once Ivy’s movement goes silent, and the gaps between her “Marcos” grow longer. She’s getting into it now.



>The two of you probably look like kids right now but you couldn’t care less.

>You start messing with the volume of your voice so it’s harder to tell how far away you are. Ivy doesn’t go for it. Instead she calls out to you sparingly but still eats up the distance between you. At one point she’s so close you have to duck behind a pot to keep her from spotting you. She moves past you so fast you barely catch a glimpse of her as she rounds the corner.

>That was close. You just step out of your hiding spot when a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

>You jump three feet straight up before spinning to find Ivy standing behind you.

>”Fish out of water,” she grins.

>Ivy’s wearing a stunning red dress, just short and low cut enough to be sexy without crossing that line into slut territory. Even the sweat on her forehead doesn’t make her look any less great.

>You’d been planning to say somethin’ smart when Ivy finally caught you, but all that passes your lips is a low whistle.

>”If I’d known you looked like that I woulda let you find me sooner.”

>”Save it for when mom’s around, lover boy. And keep it focused on me this time.”

>You can’t help but make one more wisecrack. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to ruin my fun.”

>”I’d say you’ve had enough fun for the night.”

>”Ya think?”

>”I think. Meet me by the door, I’m going to go get Joyce.”

>You enjoyed watching her leave more than you should’ve.

>With your need to play out of your system it is about time to get ready. You grab a bottle of some pills you found earlier that make you smell better to mamono on your way out. You’re not dumb enough to try ‘em here, but you figure back home they might earn you a few extra bucks. It’s worth a try anyway.

>There’s no line, so you walk right up to the cashier and drop the bottle on the counter. His work is fast, but you’re sure you’ve got enough change to keep from breaking a bill so you blow some time looking through your pockets. Good thing no one’s behind you.

>”You two are cute together.” The cashier finally says something as you turn your wallet inside out for the third time.

>”Yeah? I like to imagine I’d look cute with anybody.” The guy behind the counter snorts, that’s enough to make you take a glance up at him. “Hey, I know that look. You got your eye on some cute little thing a’ yer own, don’t ya?”

>”Kinda. I mean, not really. She’s pretty cute, but she’s a customer and…”

>”So that’s your angle, huh? The whole star crossed lovers thing? Girls love that, ya know.”

>His entire body perks up at that. “Really?”

>”Hell no! You’re a fuckin’ cashier, not Romeo. You like her, just get your balls together and ask her out. No one’s even gonna care. Don’t be the type that stares after some chick all googly eyed and never makes a move. It’s sad to watch.”

>”Yeah, I guess so… hey, if you don’t want change there’s some gum right here, that’ll round you out.”

>”Sure, whatever.”

>You buy a package, pop a piece of the gum into your mouth and head to the door.

>Ivy and Joyce come out of a back room and meet you before you’ve been waiting long.

>Joyce grabs your elbow as you make the natural move towards Ivy’s car.

>”You’re riding with me.”

>You look to Ivonne for help, but she just shrugs.

>”See you back at the house.”

>Ivy, no! You feel like you’ve just been tossed to the lions—well, foxes—but this way you get a chance to prove your relationship with Ivy isn’t fake… even though it is. Guess you’ve gotta grin and bear it.

>Joyce leads you to her car and you get in.

>The car’s a luxury deal: leather seats, beautiful dash, angry driver. None of it’s a shock, really. Ivy’s gotten you used to everything Joyce has to dish out anyway.

>As soon as the doors are shut the fox hits the lock button, pins you against the door and gives you a sniffing so thorough you wonder if you need to report a rape.

>Her face is troubled when she comes up.

>You know exactly what’s going on: you’ve got Ivy’s dark energy scent on you now and she’s not sure if she likes that or not. You’ve got a part to play here though, gotta act stupid.

>”Is something wrong, Joyce?”

>”Guess you’re not just a stand-in, then…” The first words come out as a mumble, but Joyce looks you in the eye and speaks in a strong voice as she continues. “Alright, listen. I don’t know what your game is, but Ivonne is my little sister, got it? If this is all some long con and you’re trying to make her fall in love with you to get at her money I know people on two different worlds that can make you disappear. Do you understand?”

>She stares at you with those same eyes Ivy has. It’s like she’s trying to look through you. Your best bet is to walk softly here and stick as close to the truth as you can while still playing your part.

>”I don’t understand. Where is this coming from?”

>”Don’t play stupid, Marco—if that’s really your name—” Oh, come on! Really?! “pretty little pukes like you use their looks to get things out of women all the time, and lonely little Ivy’s got a target on her chest.” More like her ass. “So if you’re after her because you want something other than her heart you’re going to have to deal with me. No love, no money, capiche?”

>”I’m not a con artist. I just think Ivy’s a nice girl, okay? She’s fun to be around, and pretty and I can never quite pin her down and…” you pause. It’s not for effect, you actually need time to decide what to say. “And love is a strong word, but I’m not with her for money.” Well, at least not in the sense Joyce has in mind.

>Your response seems to be enough. The kitsune’s face stays tight, but at least she relaxes enough to sit back and start the car. She doesn’t seem able to look at you as she says one last thing before the short trip home.

>”Treat her well. I wasn’t kidding about being able to make you disappear.”

>You might actually be scared if you didn’t know how to spot a bluff from a mile away. Ivy’s big sister might actually know people that could make things happen, but she wouldn’t have the stones to call them in. Probably.

>Ivy smiles at you as you walk into her room after ditching joyce and strike a victory pose.

>”So you survived, huh?”

>”Yeah, but if I break your heart I might wake up next to a horse’s head.”

>”I’m sure it would’ve been obtained at a bargain price at least.”

>”What, she sells horse heads too?”

>”You can order about anything with enough time and the right price. It’s one of the things that sets our store apart. Anyway, get dressed, we’re already running late thanks to you two.”

>With that Ivy unceremoniously shoves you the same suit she gave you before, now tailored to fit better, and you get dressed.

>Ivy’s treating, so the little Italian restaurant is as swanky as you’d expect. It kinda reminds you of your second “date,” only you’ve got two more kitsune picking you apart this time.

>At least they serve normal water here.

>The conversation flows naturally until the waiter comes to take your order. All three of the girls order Fegato Alla Venezia or however that’s spelled. You order lasagna.

>You can pronounce “lasagna.”

>The wine is flowing slowly tonight too, so you get the feeling you might actually get to have a good time without babysitting an entire family of drunken foxes.

>As soon as he leaves Sonata twists the conversation back to you and Ivy.

>”I’m so glad we’re getting the chance to talk like this so soon, Marco!”

>The oldest kitsune smiles at you, but you’ve been around enough people to see the predatory glint hidden in the expression. Time to see if your studying pays off.

>”So what kind of wedding do you want to have, boy?”

>...What? You’d been prepared for some kind of test, but this is way forward. Even Ivy looks dumbstruck by how direct her mom is.

>Your mouth flaps, Ivy stammers to protest. ”M-mom, we don’t need to talk about that n—”

>”We do. Besides, I was talking to Marco.”

>Ivy’s still reeling, but you can see her starting to get it back together. “Shouldn’t I get a say in—”

>”Hush.” The mother fox’s interjection isn’t loud, but coupled with her tone and the glare she’s got going it hits like a sledgehammer.

>The elder kitsune turns back to you and smiles like nothing just happened. Woman’s got the best poker face you’ve ever seen.

>”So tell me Marco, what color dress do you see Ivy in? Her dark energy is all over you so I guess she’s not wearing white, hmm? I’ve always thought green set off her eyes, myself.”

>Shit, pull it together, Marco! You have to think. What’s Sonata getting at here? She’s a woman, would she even care if you and Ivy actually were doin’ it? Was Ivy a virgin to begin with? Did she expect you to focus on that? If you keep analyzing there’s going to be a really long pause and it’ll look like you’re thinking too hard though. Fuck it, you decide to just answer the damn question.

>“Red. It, uh, suits her fiery personality. We can put the bridesmaids in orange or something.”

>Sonata clicks her tongue. “No no, you can’t do orange on red for a wedding. Maybe a nice coral… you’re going to have to dress him yourself Ivy, the man has no sense of style.”

>”Hey, I’ve got a great fashion— ow!” You’re interrupted when a stiletto crashes down on your foot.

>”I already do when I get the chance.” Ivonne finally gets her feet back under her and cuts in before you start a fight.

>”Oh yes,” Sonata continues, “I was wondering about that. You two don’t live together? I guess that’d make sense, a pair of healthy young people like you couldn’t stay in one place all night without getting your spirit energies all over each other.”

>”Mom!” Ivy blusters, Joyce giggles.

>”Forget bumping nasties, I haven’t even seen a proper kiss yet.”

>”Oh my, I haven’t either!” Sonata lights up at the thought. “Do it! I want to see how compatible you two are!”

>The fuck is with this chick?

>You and Ivy shoot each other a glance, but it’s not really necessary; you know what you’re going to say without even thinking about it.


>”I’m not kissing my boyfriend in front of my mom.”

>Joyce butts in even before her mother has a chance to say anything. “Are you embarrassed? I bet you kiss like a dead fish.”

>You swear you see a spark shooting between the two sisters before Ivy turns to you.

>”Come here.”

>”You’re kidding, right? Ivy, you’re— mmph!”

>Ivonne is on top of you before you can even finish the sentence. Two soft lips push against yours. The touch is tentative at first, then grows needier. You’re just about to push her away when Ivy masters herself and pulls back to look triumphantly at her sister.

>”How’s that?”

>Both of the other kitsune look unimpressed.

>”That was pretty weak.” Joyce shrugs

>Sonata actually looks kinda pouty. “Honestly, how do you expect to impress anyone with a child’s kiss like that? At least use some tongue.”

>”Ooooooh!” Ivy’s sister leans forward with interest at the thought. You could swear you see her tails wagging, too.

>Ivonne looks from her family, to you, back to her family, back to you. Her face was red from the first kiss, but she manages to go even darker before it looks like she’s made up her mind. For cryin’ out loud...

>The kitsune’s movement is sudden, but you’ve had enough girls try to force some bonus service out of you to see it coming. She aims for your lips, all she actually catches is your palm as you grab her face.

>”We are not doing this in front of your mom.”

>”Mmm mmm mm mm?” You let go of her and she tries again. “What’s wrong with that?”

>Kissing with tongue is a line you don’t cross, that’s what’s wrong. Deep kisses like that are for lovers. You’re in the business of selling the illusion of love, not the actual thing; full on sloppy kisses are too close to the real deal. Besides, that’s something actual whores would do, you’re an underpaid companion and that’s leagues away. Well, at least it is in your mind..

>You can’t say any of that out loud though, so you shrug. “It’s weird.”

>”Oh, you found yourself a prude.” Joyce doesn’t pass up the opportunity to make a cheap shot.

>”At least I found someone!” Yeah, people in glass houses and all that. Ivonne’s retort is so snappy it must’ve damn near been a reflex.

>”Of course you would if you’re okay with the low hanging fruit.”

>”Hey!” The girls keep going like you hadn’t said a word.

>”So the lonely virgin sees some sour grapes, huh?”

>”Shut up, if the men in this city had any ambition I’d have a husband by now!”

>”All I’m hearing is ’I’m too special for everyone, Ivy, it’s not my fault!’” Ivonne did a good impression. Guess she’d had plenty of time to perfect it.“You keep messing around and your tits are going to start sagging, then you’ll really have trouble.”

>”Screw you, I’m nowhere near that—”

>”Girls!” Both foxes fall silent when Sonata steps in. “Honestly, aren’t you both old enough to be past that kind of behavior by now?”

>Two sets of ears droop under the oldest kitsune’s admonishment. The table falls silent as Sonata nurses her glass while Ivonne and Joyce play with their napkins. Joyce is the first to speak up again.

>”Sorry Marco, you’re not low hanging fruit, it’s just…”

>”Yeah,” Ivy agrees, “it’s frustrating, isn’t it? This is where I should be offering to hook you up with someone, but I don’t have anyone I can introduce you to.”

>This conversation’s getting depressing. Since you’re on the topic of men that might make a good transition. Uh…

>“So how’d you meet your husband?”

>Bingo. Sonata lights up as soon as the question’s out of your mouth and aside from an eye roll or two the sisters don’t seem to care either.

>”He worked at the gate checkpoint at Fort Cox. It was love at first sight for me; I was checking him out while he was checking out my visa. I don’t think he even noticed me that first day. I was just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces, you know? I had to hound him for a week to finally get a date. I don’t think I was the only one doing it, either.”

>”So how’d you finally convince him?”

>”Oh, well…” Sonata hesitates. “You know, feminine wiles and whatnot.”

>Ivy interrupts with the truth. “Cookies with glazed alraune nectar icing. Mmm.”

>”It was only a little bit! We didn’t even do anything that day, I just wanted him to say yes to the date! You have to do things like that when competition’s that tough! I know you two understand that!”

>Joyce grunts. “I’m starting to.”

>Sonata nods, but adds a warning. “You’re not allowed to do that though. Not even a little.”

>”Of course, the usual ‘do as I say, not as I do,’ right?” Ivy shrugs. “Not like we’d want to anyway.”

>”Well, yes, but things are different on the other side. Besides, I barely used anything and I think it’s better that way. Don’t you agree, Marco?”

>“Yeah. Easiest question I’ve been asked all night.”

>The old fox shoots you a quick smile but then continues talking to the younger two. “You girls should have no problem getting a man without any aphrodisiacs or dark energy though.”

>“The problem’s not getting men, it’s finding ‘em. All the good ones are taken twice over,” Joyce whines.

>“That’s because you keep looking in the same places,” your host suggests as she reaches for a piece of bread.

>“So where’d YOU look to find Marco?” The comment is set up like a retort, but the tone of Joyce’s voice says she’s actually interested.

> “That’s, uh… oh!”

>Just in the nick of time the waiter arrives with your food. You never thought you’d be so happy to see some asshole in a bowtie.

>All of the girls immediately dig into their food. It’s amazing to watch: they manage to scarf down everything in less than half the time it takes you to go through your plate, but they do it all with table manners better than yours and without making a single smack.

>After the foxes are done eating, you and Ivy manage to guide the conversation through more comfortable territory until it’s time to leave.

>You flop down on the bed face first as soon as you get back to Ivy’s place.

>”I’m fuckin’ exhausted!” A pillow muffles your voice, but Ivy still giggles and lays down next to you.

>”Sorry, that was a little more intense than even I thought it’d be. You did well though, I’d say you deserve a reward.”

>That’s a sleazy setup for a blowjob if you’ve ever heard one. It’s nice knowing that’s not what she means though. You wished you found more women like that, human and mamono alike.

>”What’d you have in mind?”

>”You’ll see.” With that Ivy scampers off and you’re left to stretch the tension out of your muscles and take off that damn suit. You decide to put your normal clothes back on instead of your pajamas and you’ve just finished changing when Ivonne comes back in.

>She’s equipped with a picnic basket and a smile bright enough to melt away some of your fatigue.

>Not all of it though.

>”Isn’t it a little late for a picnic?” It’s almost nine.

>”I wanted to show you something. Now’s the best time to see it.”

>”Why don’t ya show me in the morning? I’m tired.”

>”We’re leaving in the morning and it won’t be the same then. We don’t have to go, but…”

>”Okay, okay. This better be worth it though.”

>”It will be!”

>The kitsune pushes the basket into your arms then makes quick work of changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. This is the most casual you’ve ever seen Ivy dressed outside of her pajamas. You like this look even more than her suit.

>”So, you ready?”


>Ivy links arms with you and practically bounces down the hall as she leads you out.

>You must be in for one hell of a surprise.



>Ivy leads you for over a mile, chatting all the way.

>As you leave the housing development the sidewalk and street lights end. Your path is getting steeper too.

>The kitsune is leading you into the hills around the base of the city’s (granite) mountain. Once it’s too dark to see Ivy stops to create a fireball. Its color goes from red to yellow to white, then it floats out of Ivy’s hand and hangs in the air just in front of her, lighting the path.

>”Neat trick.”

>”It’s pretty useful in the dark. Come on, we’re getting close.”

>Bullshit you were. You only make it halfway up the biggest goddamn hill before she stops with you hunched over trying not to wheeze behind her. Christ that basket got heavy fast.

>Lucky for your macho image Ivy decides to take a break before you’re forced to ask for one. She doesn’t seem tired though, you wonder if it’s more for your benefit than hers.

>With a sigh of relief you pop a squat with your back against the rock. It’s cold and refreshing. Really smooth, and comfortable on top of that. Too smooth. Wait, isn’t it just glass?

>”The hell?” You ask as you turn to rub your hand over the stone. “This some kinda lightning strike or somethin’?”

>”More like Hurricane Joyce.”

>”JOYCE did this?”

>”Sure. One day after school right when her magic started coming in she decided to hike up here and test it.”

>”So she MELTED part of the fuckin’ hill?”

>Ivy shrugs. “She went a little overboard. I had to carry the poor girl down after she used up all of her energy on that spell. Mom gave her such a spanking when we got home!”

>”That’s what a four tail can do, huh? That’s some powerful stuff.”

>”It’s not like the number of tails mean everything, they’re an indicator of how much dark energy a girl can store, not her ability. That extra tail just means she can hold a little more magic than a three tail, not use it better. An experienced one tail probably could’ve done the same. Besides, she was only working on her third tail back then.”

>”Huh. And what were you busy destroyin’ when your tails started comin’ in?”

>Kitsune were only born with one tail. They kept that one until right about puberty, then their tits and tails started coming in at the same time. They discovered boys and magic all at once. Must’ve been a hectic time for them and their parents, huh? You kinda wonder what she was like back then.

>Ivy’s teeth sparkle eerily in the firelight as she smiles at you. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

>Great, time to climb the rest of the fuckin’ mountain.


>When you finally reach the top Ivy kills the light, spreads her arms and spins to face you. You were already out of breath, but the view here isn’t helping.


>The whole town is stretched out before you. In a city like this there aren’t many stars in the sky, but there’s still a little galaxy beneath you. Orange streetlights grid the city off into squares of busy light.

>Headlights move around like streams of white and red, the odd houselight comes on or off. All of it’s beautiful. Like watching a moving painting.

>”Great, isn’t it?” Ivy asks as she reaches into the basket to pull something out. “I used to come up here all the time when I was sad or Mom or Dad or Joyce pissed me off. I got homesick at first, but I think the thing I missed the most about living here was this view.”

>The fox finishes setting up the blanket she’d pulled out as she talks and pats a spot next to her.

>”Don’t just stand there.”

>”Yeah. Uh, thanks for lettin’ me see this.”

>Ivy nods. “I wanted to come anyway, but somehow I wanted to show you, too. Oh, open the basket, I made tea.”

>In the moonlight you can just barely see well enough to dig out a thermos and two deep ceramic mugs out of the wicker piece of crap you lugged all the way up here. There’s another packet at the bottom, too. Cookies? You could go for cookies. You crunch on one as Ivy pours you both a cup.

>A breeze picks up as she works. You worked up a sweat earlier, but now you’re wet and the wind feels all the colder. Ivy notices your discomfort and scoots closer to wrap her tails around your shoulders.



>She’s too close, but it’s warm. You kinda like it.

>”Here.” The fox hands you a cup.

>You take it, and the two of you sit in silence, enjoying the view. Ivy looks peaceful. You don’t want to ruin the moment, but you do anyway. Curiosity killed the cat, but you’re no pussy cat.

>”Hey Ivy, can I ask you somethin’?”


>”How’d a girl like you end up with a companion from the streets?”

>Ivonne pulls away from you as soon as the words are out of your mouth. The movement is slight, but even that little bit of distance between you makes it feel colder.

>”Why, Marco?”

>”I dunno, I guess I just wanted to know you a little better. Look, if it’s somethin’ you don’t wanna answer just forget I--”

>”You already know the reason, don’t you? We talked about it at dinner.”

>”What, the whole thing about there not bein’ any good guys around?”

>”Basically. I’m surrounded by sharks. When I try to interact with people from work, everyone is jockeying for favors and positions of power when I leave. Can you believe that? I can run that company for another two hundred years easily and they’re all scrambling around to be in an advantageous spot when I quit. They should be worrying about their great-great grandkids, not themselves. It’s ridiculous.”

>That was something stuffy old business men tended to do. Or at least you think so. You don’t deal with many in your line of work.

“And outside of that group… money is still king. It seems to be everyone’s ulterior motive for even speaking to me sometimes. It’s so tiring to deal with it makes me sick. Just once I wanted to feel like I was close to someone that wasn’t family. Even if I knew it was fake, at least companions are out in the open about what your relationship is supposed to be. Still phony, but kind of refreshing, you know?”

>”I think I do. That kind of thing is what the job’s all about. What I’m wondering is how you ended up with me and not some high class actual hooker or somethin’. They do all I do and more.”

>Man, were you TRYING to talk your way out of your favorite client?

>”You were there.”

>”That’s it?”

>”It wasn’t really a planned thing. I was just sick of it all and I felt like being spontaneous for once. You were the first one I found and you looked like you’d keep your mouth shut if I paid you enough, so I picked you up.”

>That was unexpectedly shallow. Lucky you.

>”So why not a normal hooker, then? You could take care of two birds with one stone that way.”

>Yeah, keep talkin’, genius.

>”I don’t want sex without love. And, I mean, I’d feel dirty if I did that.”

>”What, did you forget about that second night already? You asked me to—”

>”I don’t! I try to suppress them, but I still have needs is all. I wasn’t ready for you to come on as strong as you did. I haven’t done it since.”

>That was true, she hadn’t made a peep about getting any more than you were willing to give after that, and she actually slowed you down a few times when you were amping her up to want more.

>Ivy’s full of contradictions. She doesn’t want people to love her for money, but she’s still willing to pay for affection. She doesn’t want to pay for loveless sex, but a companion’s hands are still okay. And, you can tell, she wants you, but she doesn’t want you as a cuddle whore.

>It doesn’t make any sense. But then, if people made sense the world wouldn’t need so many shrinks. Besides, you’re a guy that sells his body but won’t go all the way and make more money. Who the hell are you to judge?

>”Surrounded by sharks, huh…” You’d intended just to meditate on the feeling, but it seems Ivy isn’t done talking.

>”It feels that way. When my friends and I first started the company it was great. All fun and good times, then people started getting married off and having kids and retiring, and before I knew it I was all alone. Even all of their children chose to do something else with their lives. It makes me feel old.”

>”Ha.Yeah, that’d do it. Wait, just how old are you?”

>If all of her friends were retired… Kitsune lived a long-ass time, but was Ivy that old?

>”Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to ask a lady questions like that?”

>”She wasn’t big on gentlemanly behavior. You can tell because she got with my dad. So how old are ya?”

>”People don’t just give out that kind of information, you know. It’s valuable.”

>”Bullshit it is.”

>”I’m serious, I wouldn’t tell anyone for less than a thousand dollars.”

>”Done, you can take it out of my pay.”

>Even if she actually did, you’d still be making a killing off of all this.

>”That’s—you’re serious, aren’t you?”

>”Dead. C’mon, I wanna know.”

>”I’ll really make you pay.”

>”I said that was fine.”

>”I’m… three.”


>”I said I’m sixty three!”


>Your mom isn’t even that old.

>”Yes! I’m not old, okay?! Kitsune just live a long time!”


>”It’s not like my biological clock is ticking so loud even my mother can hear it or anything!”

>”Ivy! Relax. No one’s judgin’. Hell, most men wish their women looked like you at sixty.”

>Your comment seems to calm the fox down a little. You let her fidget her nerves out while you think about what it’s like to live that long. Must be a trip watching everyone you know get old and die while you’re still bouncing around.

>Ivy seems to get herself together and clears her throat. “Anyway, remember how I said I’d show you where I used to practice my magic when I was younger? I did it right over there.”

>She creates another of those glowing fireballs and sends it floating off to your right. The light reveals a valley below where you’re sitting, blackened and melted like someone had taken to testing explosives there.

>Holy shit.

>You remind yourself again not to mess with her too much, but now for completely different reasons.

>”I spent a lot of time practicing up here. I wonder how much I remember? I don’t get a chance to use this stuff often. Let’s see…”

>The kitsune closes her eyes and scrunches her eyebrow as she lifts her finger to trace glowing symbols in the air. Magic?

>”Hey, what’re you doin’?”

>”Trying to concentrate. Be quiet.”

>Her movements aren’t snappy and cool looking like they show on TV. Instead each sigil is drawn slowly and haltingly, like she’s trying to remember the steps to a dance she hasn’t done in a decade.

>You watch in silence until the fox finishes and her eyes snap open.


>”What happened?”

>Nothing happened. Ivy has a satisfied smile on her face as she makes a gun with her finger, but beyond that nothing happens. You were at least expecting some doves or something. Maybe a little confetti.

>”I haven’t activated it yet. Hang on.”

>The fox points her hand skyward and drops her thumb. Her hand snaps back like she just shot a gun and Ivy shakes it out as she stares expectantly at the sky.


>You’re cut off by a bang and an explosion of light in the sky above. A golden shower of sparks tumbles through the air above you, beating out the glow of the moon in brightness for just a second before the glittering light fades.


>”That was just the warmup. Hang on.”

>Ivy repeats the process, faster this time, and shoots into the air again. The explosion this time is bigger and more colorful. There’s actually a shape to the sparkles this time, like actual fireworks. Ivy’s not done with just that, though, she keeps going, drawing those symbols with both hands and shooting up spell after spell into the air to have them boom and crackle into a sea of fire. You’ve had yourself a good light show by the time Ivy finally sits back and catches her breath.

>”That was amazin’.”

>“Is amazing,” Ivy corrects. “I just issued a challenge to every half-decent mage in the city, let’s see what they have to say.”

>They have quite a lot to say. Almost as soon as Ivy’s done talking flares shoot into the air from a few different spots in the city and explode to life. There are even two or three plain old jets of flame from humans that don’t want to be left out.

>Both you and Ivy stop talking as you watch the show, save for an “oooh” or “ahhh” where it’s needed. Ivy wraps herself around your arm during one really bright part. You don’t complain.

>”Wasn’t that kind of illegal?” You ask after the display is over. “We might wanna get going.”

>”Kind of. But most of us were shooting high enough into the air not to be a fire hazard and the cops have more important things to worry about. I went the extra mile and hid my spells until I wanted them to go off, so no one knows where mine came from unless they were looking really hard. Those idiots making the flamethrowers might be hearing some sirens about now though.”

>Sure enough you do see some red and blue lights moving toward where you thought you saw those flame jets earlier.

>“Shouldn’t we be goin’ anyway? It’s almost midnight, your mom’s gonna get worried about ya.”

>Ivy smirks. “Oh, I don’t think she’ll be worrying about me to—ah.”

>Ah? You stare at the facepalming kitsune in confusion for a second before it hits you. A “couple,” a blanket, a secluded spot, night, fucking fireworks. Anyone with half a brain would expect that you two went at it like rabbits. And with mamono, when you fuck that much you get mixed spirit energy.


>“Ivonne… look, we just mixed it up last night, would they even be able to tell whether or not we went at it today? Hell, it’s late. They’re probably both asleep already anyway.”

>”They would. Mom MIGHT be asleep, but if Joyce has even a shadow of a doubt about whether or not we’re genuine she’s going to be all over us as soon as we hit the door.”

>”Alright, FINE. Let’s just do it the same way as last time. Hand me one of those cups, will ya?”

>”That won’t work. Those are deep, if your, uh, semen is anywhere near as thick as it was last night it’ll all stick to the sides and I won’t be able to get any out.”

>”So what, you want me to use my hand or somethin’?”

>”I think you might have to.”

>”Don’t even try tellin’ me you’re okay with that!”

>”I’m not, but what choice do we have?! If we blow it now this entire trip was wasted!”

>Yeah, she’s probably right.

>You scratch your head and grumble. “Fine, but if you hit me as hard as you did last night I’m gonna be pissed.”

>”Okay, okay. Just stand still and let me focus.”

>Ivy approaches, places her hands on your chest and presses her body against yours. For just a moment before she starts you look down at her in the moonlight as she looks up at you. If you just wrapped your arms around her hips you could call this a lover’s embrace. Then the heat flows in.

>Your eyes flutter and your chest tightens as the first of it comes into you. Before you even realize it you’re at full mast and your breath is coming quickly. Ivy steps away before you’re close to losing it like last time. She still gave you a lot of her dark energy, but at least this amount you can handle.

>”Was that too much?”

>”It’s okay, I’m good. Totally good. I’m just gonna go over here and--”

>”Not there, I’ll be able to smell it. Go down wind.”

>”What’s it matter? Just breathe through your mouth or somethin’”


>Ivonne gives you a push in the direction she wants you to go in and you waddle that way grumbling.

>Jerkin’ it in the open air is kinda freeing. The only problem is that as you’re doing it you can’t seem to think of anything safe to stroke to. As much as you try to think of other women, to make something up you keep drifting back to Ivy. No matter what you come back to the soft breasts that were just pushed against you, the smoothness of her thighs, the curve of her ass, the smell of her hair or the feel of her fur on your skin.

>You blow two loads to her before you decide enough is enough.

>With hand still full of your splooge you manage to button your pants before walking back over to Ivy who’s packed up and turned her back to you.

>”Done. Here.”

>You offer her your hand, glistening in the moonlight and Ivy takes it. Her face is straight but you don’t miss the flush in her cheeks.

>”Hurry up, it’s gonna drip.”

>”Don’t rush me,” Ivy demands as she brushes her hair back and leans into your hand. “And stop looking, I’m the only one that needs to see this.”

>You grumble but turn your head to the side anyway.

>It’s actually worse that you’re not looking, it makes you feel what she’s doing that much more.

>The first strokes of Ivy’s tongue in your palm are ticklish. She has to flick at the cum like a snake to stop it from spilling over the side of your hand as she tries to drink it, so her tongue hits your hand a million different times, never quite in the same spot as Ivy attacks the pool from different angles.

>This would go a lot faster if she’d just slurp it up, but you’ve got a feeling Ivy’s trying to be ladylike despite the fact that she’s currently gobbling down your seed, so that won’t be happening.

>When she finally manages to gulp down most of the sperm collected in your hand her lapping turns into strokes that rake the width of your palm. Her tongue is hot and sticky with a mixture of her saliva and remnants of your jizz. Why the hell does that feel so damn erotic?

>The front of your hand is as clean as it’s going to get now, so the fox flips it over and goes to work on the back tracing the trickles of love juice that leaked between your fingers.


>The fox groans as her tongue reaches the fox the last of the spunk. Sounds like she’s starting to enjoy herself a little. It’s almost too bad she’s done, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself too.

>Or so you thought.

>Just as you’re ready to pull your hand away Ivy spreads your finger and lashes her tongue over the sensitive webbing between them.

>”Hey, that tickles!”

>Ivy ignores you and keeps at her work, intent not to leave a single sperm behind.

>”Are you done yet? If you don’t hurry up I’m gonna hafta look.”

>With all of your skin wet with her spit you notice how shallow and hot her breaths are coming.

>That’s too much, you can’t NOT look at her now. You’re just in time to watch her slide your middle finger into her mouth.

>Between licking the front, the back and the middle your hands are clean now, there’s no reason at all for Ivy to keep going, but she still slurps on your finger like it’s the most delicious thing in the world. Your lust-filled mind goes blank as you watch her suck on and roll her tongue all over your finger.

>Your little soldier goes to attention as what little of you is left thinking shifts entirely too much attention to what else she could do with a tongue like that.

>You watch in a trance as she finally stops her blowjob by proxy and pushes your hand to her breast instead. The squeeze you give is mostly involuntary, but you still like what you feel. Even through the fabric of her bra and t-shirt the feel of Ivy’s tit is top class.

>You lose yourself in that feeling, kneading her flesh and taking pleasure in her moans for who knows how long. It’s only when she presses against you, her face so close to yours you can smell the remnants of her cum on your breath that you snap out of it. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’ve already gone too far.



>Her eyes are misty and her expression is loose. The only time you've seen her like this was when she wanted you to whore yourself out for real.

>Not good.

>You take a step back.

>She takes a step forward.

>Another step back.

>Ivy stays on top of you like you’re leading a dance.

>Ivonne sticks to you like glue no matter which way you go, demandingly pushing your hand into her chest and bringing her face closer by the second.

>”Snap out of it.”

>”Ehehe, Marco…”

>”C’mon, didn’t you just say—gah!”

>Your begging is cut short when you misstep on a rock and go tumbling backwards. Ivy goes with you and lands right on of you. With most of her body weight on your chest and nowhere to run Ivy steadily advances towards your lips.

>You’re long past the point where anyone else would’ve gotten a fist to the nose. You’re not going to hit Ivy, but if there’s ever been a time for something physical it’s now.

>You flick one of Ivy’s ears with the hand that’s not pressed to her boob.

>”Ow!” The fox exclaims as she slaps your hand away. “I... what were we doing?”

>Oh, thank god! You strike your best nervous maiden pose as you answer.

>”Be gentle?”

>The kitsune jumps away from you like she’s been shocked before she regains her composure.

>”S-sorry, are you okay?”

>”Fine. The question is are YOU okay? The hell was that?”

>She fidgets. “Remember what I said about needs? It was too strong and...”


>”And let’s just forget this happened.”

>That’d probably be best for you both, but…

>”Look, I can’t go all the way, but if you’re that hard up I can do what I did that one t—”


>The volume of her shout surprises both of you. Ivy seems a little smaller as she continues.

>”I can handle it. Let’s just go, okay? Sorry for ruining the evening.”

>Ivy turns and starts back down the hill. You follow her at a distance and neither of you speak until you’re halfway down the mountain.

>”Hey!” You shout at her back, “I’m not mad or nothin’, alright?”

>She looks back, nods, and you swear you hear a quiet “thanks” before she continues walking. That’s the end of your conversation for the night.

>As expected, Joyce is all over you the moment Ivy turns the handle, but she backs off as soon as she catches the mood.

>Ivy sleeps as far away from you in the bed as she can until she wakes you up trying to sneak out in the middle of the night.

>She comes back twenty minutes later with the unmistakable scent of sex about her, but at least when she crawls back into bed she snuggles up against you.

>Just to reassure yourself you pull the fox a little closer. She sighs in her sleep.

>Everything’s gonna be alright.



>”Maaaaaaarcooooooo” a voice calls through the mists.

>Jesus, please no!

>”Maaaaaaarcooooooo” it comes again.

>You don’t answer. This isn’t the time for fun and games; you’re not going to say “Polo” and run away giggling.

>Instead you cower in a bush surrounded by the mist and shiver.

>The voice comes closer, calling your name the entire time. You resist shutting your eyes and hiding your head, but you never see the source, even when it sounds like it’s inches from your hiding place.

>Your phone rings. In a panic you snatch it out of your pocket, praying that the voice didn’t hear.

>On the screen, Ivy’s name and a picture of her smiling face lit by fireworks sits above the accept and reject buttons appears. You hit the accept icon and a trembling hand brings the phone to your ear.

>”We can’t play if you don’t respond, Maaaarcoooo. I’m getting lonely.” The same voice says through the headset before you can say anything.

>You try to keep the fear out of your voice as you answer, but your dry throat and the shaking of your body transferring into your words as you talk betrays you. “Hey, what the hell do you want?!”

>”I want you to turn around.

>It’s a bad idea. A terrible idea. Maybe the worst idea you’ve had in your entire life.

>You gulp and slowly turn your head anyway.

>As soon as you do a weight crashes into your back and the two of you roll down a slope.

>Once you stop you find yourself pinned. Ivy’s legs straddling your waist and her hands pin your shoulders to the ground. She’s wearing some wraparound Chinese looking robe thing you’ve never seen her in before too. The fox smiles as she sees the horror flow into your face.

>You let loose on her kisser, slamming your fists into her face with as much force as you can despite being flat on your back.

>Her head doesn’t even move. Each impact feels like you’re just slapping water and your hands bounce right off.

>The kitsune on top of you never stops smiling and runs a finger down your heaving chest as she speaks.

>”You know, if you won’t give me your heart you can at least let me have your liver.

>Her hand stops right below your ribs and she straightens all of her fingers like she was going to karate chop something. She doesn’t make a slicing motion though, instead she stabs straight downward.

>Pain doesn’t even register as the first of your blood begins to gush out, only shock as the kitsune squeezes something inside of you and brings her hand back to pull  out a half-moon shaped, still beating organ from your stomach.

>Your eyes snap open as Ivy brings your liver to her mouth to have her first taste.>A white ceiling, sticky sheets and the sound of your own breathing are the only things that greet you.

>No fog or kitsune eating your organs though. That’s good.

>Your phone doesn’t even look like that, what the hell was up with that dream?

>And speaking of kitsune, where the hell is Ivy?

>The question answers itself when you feel a tongue on your bare stomach and take notice of the weight on top of you.

>You lift the sheets with one hand and tap your roommate on the head as she lays sleeping on top of you. She groans and slowly opens her eyes after taking one more lick of your skin.

>”What the hell are you doing?”

>”I had a dream I was eating foie gras.” You can just barely hear her as she yawns the response.

>”Was it good?”

>The fox loudly slurps up some drool in the corner of her mouth before nodding. “Delicious.”

>The bedroom door’s hinges creak as it finishes opening and you snap your head to the side to see Joyce groping for the handle without actually managing to pull her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

>”I-I guess this is a bad time to ask what you want for breakast,” she says after an awkward laugh.

>Right on cue, Ivy sticks her head out from under the covers to glare at her sister.

>”You think?”

>”Yeah…” Joyce smiles as she pulls the door shut. Eggs Benedict it is.”

>She shuts the door and Ivy props herself up on her elbows still on top of you.

>”We’re getting pretty good at looking like lovers by accident, aren’t we?” She asks.

>”More like we’re gettin’ good at livin’ like a bad soap.”

>Ivy yawns again and rolls off of you to get dressed. You wipe the spit off of your belly and do the same before following her downstairs.

>Joyce doesn’t look at you or Ivy all through breakfast and barely participates in the chat going on.

>She’s still embarrassed about “walking in on you” earlier, huh? Serves her right, maybe she’ll learn to knock next time.

>She doesn’t gather the courage to look at Ivy until everyone’s finished eating. She clears her throat and shoots a glance at your “girlfriend” before speaking.

>”So, I can’t help but notice you’ve had that monster sitting in the driveway all weekend but you haven’t offered to take me for a ride.”

>Ivy raises her eyebrow over a cup of coffee. “Why should I?”

>”Oh, I don’t know. I just thought I’d give you the chance to take me for a ride before I took myself for one.”

>The older sister pulls out a familiar set of car keys and twirls them around her finger as she says the last part.

>”When did you—give me those!”

>Ivy lunges for the keys, moving the table in the process.

>”I don’t think so,” Joyce smirks as she pulls the ring back. “Maaaaybe if you promise to take me for a spin…”

>“Fine,” Ivy growls. Joyce’s face takes on an even wider grin as she tosses Ivy her keys.

>The fox next to you snatches the ring out of the air and shoots her sister a look through narrowed eyes. “I’m going to make you regret asking.”

>Joyce rests her cheek in her palm and never stops making that smug grin. “I’d like to see that.”

>”You’re going to.”

>The sisters stare each other down as they rise from the table in unison, eyes still locked.

>”We’re going to go out for a bit, Mom.” Joyce growls.

>”Marco, why don’t we finish packing up a little later?” Ivy asks with her knuckles white around her key fob.


>”Be careful you two,” Sonata intones.

>Fat chance. Both of them are jogging for the door before Sonata’s even done talking.

>If Joyce keeps walking like that in a skirt that short someone’s going to see her goods soon, but that’s really none of your business. You turn to Sonata.

>”Honestly, those two…” The oldest kitsune sighs as she rises and starts to clear the dishes.

>You hesitate. You can take a chance here and become the perfect boyfriend Sonata will never want Ivy to replace ever and make the trip a huge success. You can also play it safe and get as far away from the shrewd old fox as possible and hope everything you’ve done so far is enough.

>Today is a good day to roll the dice. Besides, you’ve done good so far.

>You pick up your plate and Ivy’s before Sonata can get to them, then flash your hostess a smile. “Let me help you clean up.”

>”Well aren’t you sweet?”


>Sonata sets you up scraping dishes in the kitchen while she bustles around collecting them.

>”You know, I’m surprised you let those two get away so easily.” You practically have to shout over the clanging of pots and your own scraping, but the lack of conversation was getting awkward.

>”They’ll be fine. Ivy may be a crazy driver, but she knows what she’s doing. I was waiting for a chance to talk to you alone, anyway.”

>Uh oh.

>”Let’s be honest with each other,” the kitsune begins as she steps next to you to start washing the dishes you scraped. “You’re not her boyfriend, are you?”


>”Sometimes I wonder. It took me so long to convince her I was sometimes I’m not even sure.”

>”We’re being honest now, Marco. That look she had on her face yesterday wasn’t just the embarrassed one a girl kissing a boy in front of her mother would have, it was excited like she was doing something she didn’t get to do often.”

>”You mean like showing off in front of her sister?”

>You think that’s a pretty good cover, but Sonata’s looking at you with those same eyes her daughter has, the ones that look right through you. You feel naked.

>”No, they do that all the time. I’d know that look of defiance from a mile away.”


>”Please, Sonata. We even SMELL like we’re together. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

>”You think I don’t know that trick? I used it all the time when even a quickie would be inconvenient and I wanted my husband marked. You only had half of her scent on you when you got here, too. Why would that be, I wonder?”

>She’s got you pinned. Anything you come up with now is going to sound like bullshit. The fox continues before you get a chance to say anything though.

>”You know, Ivy’s always been a bad liar. She’s crafty and she weaves a good story, but she still cannot lie. She has so many tells, you know?”

>You could buy that; somehow you always seemed to know how she really felt.

>”I knew mister believably perfect was a fabrication to get her overbearing mother off her back before you got here, but here you are just as she said. The problem is that all your mannerisms and speech is strained. If you were her boyfriend and just an embarrassment she would’ve swept you under the rug, not tried to make you presentable. Ivy looks at you with this burning in her eyes, too. You’re not a lover, but more than just a handsome friend.”

>Damn she’s good.

>”Isn’t that interesting? What are you two to each other? Are you even a consultant? You don’t seem like the type.”

>The gig’s up. You’re busted. No other way of looking at it. Sonata seems satisfied that you’re going to drop the game and goes back to washing dishes, but she keeps an ear turned toward you as she does.

>”It’s… it’s complicated, ya know?”

>There’s a flash of surprise across the kitsune’s face when she hears you speak without the phony tone and word choice, but she lets you continue without saying anything.

>”I guess ya’d call me her relaxation consultant.” Hopefully that’s far enough from the truth not to lead her to it but close enough not to make it sound like you’re lying. “We get along pretty good, but we’re not like that.”

>“Why not? You’re perfect together.”

>”It’s a personal thing.”

>”Hers or yours?”

>”Mine, but it’d be hers too if she knew what was good for ‘er.”

>Sonata stops washing, no doubt thinking hard about what you’re not saying. She brings a finger to her chin as she speaks.

>”That’s the trick with a lot of ‘personal things.’ They seem like a big deal to you, but to other people they’re nothing. It’s not about money, is it?”

>”Yeah, but no.”

>The fact that there’s money involved in the relationship at all is the problem.

>”You don’t need to worry about that with Ivonne, you know? Any man that wants to go after Joyce had better be ten feet tall and bulletproof, but Ivy doesn’t need that. She just wants to be treated like a princess; you don’t have to make as much as she does.”

>”A princess? She’s already a queen.”

>”That’s exactly why. Queens are regal, elegant. Ivy isn’t, really. You’re starting to see that, aren’t you? She needs someone she can go to to relax with, someone that won’t have her on a pedestal but that will still treat her right. She’s a brat, she needs someone that can appreciate that. That’s all.”

>You grunt.

>”I guess I confirmed what I needed to. Just... please give Ivy a fair shot. I don’t know what personal issues you have, but you both deserve it.”

>You grunt again.

>Wait, were you having a heart to heart with this chick? It was so natural you almost didn’t notice it happening. Being able to turn an interrogation into an open discussion that easily was kinda scary.

>You brood on that a little as the two of you finish the dishes and Sonata puts on a pot of tea. Hell, might as well use the opportunity to ask a few questions of your own while you stand around waiting for the water.

>”Somethin’s buggin’ me here. You’re not the crazy old lady that wants grandkids to brag about, you’re comin’ at this all wrong for that. What’s your deal?”

>”Perceptive, are we?”

>”I try. So what gives?”

>Sonata looks down and drums her fingers on the bar before looking at you. It looks like you’ve hit a tender spot, but the woman’s not clamming up on you, just deciding what to say.

>”They’re lonely.”


>”They’re alone, Marco. I do want grandchildren, and I think you and Ivy would make splendid ones, but that’s not really the issue here. My girls are hurting.”

>”Why? Looks to me like they’ve got everything.”

>Sonata continues like she didn’t hear you. “You know, kitsune live about five hundred years. In Cokyne we live in villages away from humans, we only make contact to trade and find husbands. It’s not because we’re snooty, but humans don’t live very long. It hurts to get attached to someone then watch them wither away with age or disease while you’re still young over and over again. That’s why we don’t get attached. People live longer on Earth so the girls are just starting to feel it, but the same thing still happens eventually.”

>You only gave it a little thought last night past thinking Ivy looked damn good for her age, but living that much longer than everyone else would suck.

>”No kitsune villages here either, huh?“

>”No. There aren’t enough of us, and even if there were we couldn’t stay isolated long. With cars and sprawl we’d never be far from anything.”

>”I… I dunno what to say to that.”

>The conversation’s gotten heavy, and not in the way you thought it would.

As she replies the kitsune takes the kettle off the stove and starts making the tea.

>”Oh, you don’t have to say anything to that. It’s just the way things are. Still, there’s one thing we can do about it.”

>”What’s that?”

>”How much do you know about incubi?” Sonata asks as she leads you back into the living room to sit.

>What you knew was next to nothing, but the point of the Sonata trying to find her daughters husbands is still starting to become clear.

>”I don’t know much, just that when you f—uh…”

>”Fornicate with?” Sonata corrects you as you stumble past an F bomb.

>”When you fornicate with a mamono enough it sorta makes a bond and you turn into an incubus and get a bunch of powers and sh… tuff.”

>”Yes, you get quite a few powers and shtuff. Once you’ve been exposed to enough of your wife’s dark energy long enough and wish to form that bond you become an incubus. You get stronger, recover faster, don’t have to eat as much because you can get all of your energy from, ah, fornication and you can use certain mamono magics. Most importantly though, if your partner is a longer-lived species your lifespan stretches out closer to your wife’s.”

>There it is. She took the long way to get there, but a lover that wouldn’t die before Ivy did was Sonata’s entire aim here.

>”So what’s the catch?”

>The kitsune points at her ears and makes them wiggle.

>”There’s a mark. Succubi give their husbands horns, lots of reptiles give their husbands scales somewhere visible, kitsune give their husbands ears. They’re purely decorative, but they’re there.”

>”And the catch?”

>”You have to deal with a higher libido, too.”


>”Well, in Cokyne you’re marked for the Holy Church to burn you at the stake if they find you.”

>”That one’s worth thinkin’ about. Over here you just have trouble findin’ hats though?”

>”More or less.”

>That was a pretty sweet deal. Something’s not adding up though: Sonata’s a widow. Unless her guy got hit by a bus or something, how could that happen?

>”Are you wondering about my husband now?” The fox asks.

>Man, she’s sharp.

>You don’t answer; she already knows that’s what you want to ask. She takes her time pouring a cup of tea before responding.

>”I guess it was my fault. Of all the men I could’ve chosen I went after the stubborn military type. You know, proud human and all that? He knew it would end up this way but he stayed stubborn until the end.”

>”Wait, so he died off ‘cause of old age when he could’ve stopped it just so he could stay human?”

>He abandoned them, and for what?

>”He didn’t abandon us if that’s what you’re thinking.”

>Stop that!

>”We don’t think of it that way. He used the time given to him to it’s fullest, that’s all. He was happy and I was happy while I had him.”

>”What about now? You’ve probably got a couple hundred years left, you’re not gonna remarry?”

>”Oh, I’ll never find another man like that. It’s okay though, I have my girls to fuss over, and one of these days even those prudes will have children I can look after too.”

>Sonata goes quiet for a while as she sips her tea and looks past you. There are a bunch of old pictures behind you, she’s probably looking at those.

>You decide to let her for a while; you need time to think about what the hell just happened.

>Sonata knows you and Ivy aren’t dating, so… so what? Making her believe that was the entire reason you were here and she just blew right past it.

>Hooking her daughters up with a man that’d be fine turning incubus was Sonata’s goal from the start. ‘Course, she’d basically said that. No mystery there.

>The way she talks makes it seem like she’s sure you and Ivy are gonna end up together anyway which kinda pisses you off, but it’s probably better to leave that one alone.

>All that’s really left is the conclusion, huh?

>”So what’re you plannin’ on doin’ here? You gonna tell Ivy she’s busted, too?”’

>”Oh, no! I spent decades making Ivy think she was craftier than her dear old mother, I’m not going to ruin that now. I think we’d all be just fine letting her think your little plan went of without a hitch, don’t you?”

>”I guess. But decades? You really play the long game, huh?”

>The fox flashes you the same mischievous smile you see from Ivy sometimes. “When you live as long as a kitsune there’s no other game to play. Besides, I have a feeling you two will work things out anyway if you’re left alone.”

>You grit your teeth at that, but don’t say anything.

>”That reminds me, I got you two something.”

>The fox reaches behind the couch she’s sitting on and pulls out a glossy paperbag with tissue paper poking out of the top. It’s a little bigger than the palm of your hand when she gives it to you.

>”That’s a little something for Ivy. You can give it to her as a gift from you when the time is r—no, don’t open it!”

>You stop mid motion.

>”How the hell am I supposed to know when the time’s right if I don’t know what it is?”

>”Oh, you’ll know.”

>You want to say something else, but the sound of squealing rubber in the driveway prompts you to shove the bag behind you and try to act normal.

>Joyce dashes past you with all of her hair standing on end—which is really something when a kitsune does it—and runs into the kitchen without saying a word. Her departure is soon followed by the sound of someone blowing chunks into the garbage can.

>Ivy walks in whistling and spinning her keys around her finger right as Joyce disappears.

>”I… take it you had a good time?” You ask over the sound of running water.

>”One of us did,” Ivy answers with the biggest shit eating grin on her face. “We’ve got some pretty nice roads around here, big sis didn’t know what she was getting herself into.”

>”Honestly, I wish you two would act your age.” Sonata sighs.

>Ivy shrugs. ”I don’t think I’d look good with a walker.”

>There’s nothing to say to that. Sonata just shakes her head until Joyce staggers back into the room and sits next to her, head hanging low.

>”Are you okay, dear?” the mother fox asks.

>Joyce groans. “Ugh... I want one.”

>Ivy nods. “You’re welcome. Anyway Marco, I’ve got an offer for you!”

>You arch your eyebrow as Ivonne stretches a pair of white panties with a pink bow on the front between her hands.

>”I’ll sell you these right here, right now for twenty bucks. They’re still a little warm too, so the sooner you buy the longer you get to enjoy the heat!”

>”Hey!” Joyce stands up as she catches onto what Ivy’s doing. “When did you get those?!”

>”C’mon, you didn’t think I was shifting that often, did you? ” Ivy sings as she dances away from her sister’s reaching hands. “You made it so easy when you were clinging to the door, too~”

>”Anyway,” Ivy adds as Joyce misses another long reach, “if that’s not enough I’ll even throw in this free cellphone with your pur—”

>She’s cut off as joyce dives into her. Both sisters go to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs and tails.

>”Let go!”

>”Give it back!”

>”The phone or your p—OW!”

>You never thought you’d see Ivy act like this, but there she is rolling on the floor with her sister yanking on her hair.

>While they’re at it you manage to confirm that joyce actually isn’t wearing any panties.

>You didn’t think she’d be the type to shave.

>”Would you excuse us for a moment, Marco?” Sonata asks as she stands up dusting herself off.

>”Yeah, sure thing.” You shoot one more look at the girls still wrestling on the floor, then head upstairs to finish packing, sneaking Sonata’s gift behind you as you go.

>You make it halfway up before hearing a splash and a couple of shrieking kitsune. Old lady Sonata wasn’t playing today, huh?

>Ivy comes into the room and kicks the door shut behind her, dripping water on the floor all the while.

>She’s still fucking grinning.

>”Worth it?”

>”Worth it.”

>Once again she doesn’t even seem to pay any attention to you as she strips then rifles through her luggage for a new set of clothes.

>You’re getting used to it. You don’t really care until she lights up a few of those fireballs to dry herself and the room becomes a sauna.

>The sound of that last zipper closing has a weird finality to it.

>Sonata walks you to the door. It looks like Ivonne and Joyce aren’t speaking right now, but Joyce is still kind enough to help you carry out your suitcases. You suspect the old fox had something to do with that.

>You take one last look at the two of them before climbing into the passenger’s seat.

>Joyce is kind of a cunt, but she wasn’t so bad when she was showing her soft side.

>You were really starting to like Sonata a little now that she let you get to know her. She probably wouldn’t make a bad in-l—nope, none of that. Time to go home.

>The old kitsune hands you a box of fried tofu for the road with a wink and you’re off.

>You can see Ivy relax as you get farther and farther from home until she finally lets out her breath and sags behind the wheel.

>”I can’t believe we did it!”

>”Yeah we did.”

>You’re totally busted, but you don’t have it in you to tell Ivy, especially when she looks so happy.

>The ride back seems shorter with Ivy so much more relaxed. the conversation flows and both of you have a good time.

>”Gentleman” has never been a word to describe you, but you still naturally grab Ivy’s bags and help carry them up.

>You don’t intend to stay, but somehow you still settle on the couch with a bottle on the table and Ivy under your arm as she tells you about her drive earlier.

>”...So then I took the turn wider than I needed to and we were an inch from the guard rail and the only thing squealing louder than the tires was her! It was so much fun, I wish you could’ve been there!”

>Ivy’s giggly and you’re feeling pretty relaxed yourself. You haven’t felt this warm and comfortable in a long time.

>”It’s s’aright. I had enough fun pretendin’ to be your boyfriend already.”

>”It doesn’t have to be pretend next time. I really do like you, you know.”

>Oh man, she’s pushing this again? You take a sip of your drink before answering.

>”Yeah, I like bein’ around you too.”

>Her ears drop at your reply, but quickly perk back up as she refills your glasses and raises hers for a toast.

>”To being around each other?”

>”To being around each other.”

>Your glasses touch with a clink.

>You feel bad for answering like that, but what was she expecting? Anything more would be unprofessional

>Yeah, it’d be unprofessional. Besides, even if you were into Ivy you couldn’t be with her anyway.

>You’re a step away from being a whore; ‘I like you too’ isn’t something you’ve got the right to say to anyone, let alone Ivy. She deserves better than you.

>It’s not like you do have a thing for her even if she is the only woman you’ve enjoyed being around this much and her smile is like the sun and you find yourself thinking about—

>Wait, did you just start making metaphors or smilies or whatever? About her goddamn smile?

>Not even her ass or something?



>”Is something wrong?” The kitsune asks.

>”Naw.” That’s a stupid response from someone with their mouth hanging open staring at the wall. Of course something’s fuckin’ wrong, but you’re too stunned to think.

>You’re in love with Ivy.



>Okay, calm down. You’ve dealt with this before. Just like some of your longer term clients started having feelings for you, sometimes you started havin’ feelings for them back.

>It was just the nature of the work, nothing big. A little drinking and laughing at yourself and you’d be good in no time.

“I’m gettin’ a headache, think I’m gonna take off.” You stand and straighten out your clothes as the kitsune follows suit.


>”Already? We been together all weekend. Just pay me so I can get outta here.”


>Ivy digs into her purse and counts out thirty hundreds into your hand.

>”You were actually serious about chargin’ for tellin’ me your age, huh?”

>”You think a lady would joke about something like that?”

>”I was wonderin’. Oh well.”

>She pulls out another stack of bills and thrusts it towards you.

>”I was expecting you to complain more. You can take this though, I don’t really care as long as you don’t tell.”

>You push her hand away.

>”Naw, we had a deal. ‘Sides, it was worth every penny.”

>Okay, see, that’s exactly the kind of shit you need to stop saying.

>The worst part is that it’s true.

>The fuck are you even doing? That was a thousand bucks you just turned down!

>Being around this chick must be making you stupid.

>You do your best to ignore the blush spreading across Ivy’s cheeks as you grab the bags that are actually yours and not just full of borrowed stuff and head for the door.

>You have one more thought just before you turn the knob and stop to dig out the little bag Sonata gave you. You toss it to Ivy and she catches it neatly.

>”What’s this?”

>”I dunnno, your moms gave it to me. Said somethin’ about givin’ it to you when the time’s right.”

>”And the time’s right now?”

>”Hell if I know, just open it and find out what it is.”


>Ivy reaches past the tissue paper and pulls something out. A piece of string? Ivy looks as confused as you do and keeps pulling.

>A tiny triangle of cloth about the same color of Ivy’s tails with a white tip at one corner slides out.


>Ivy stares in horror at the thing her mother gave you to give her.

>It’s a thong. A tiny, kitsune print thong.

>Ivy shoves it back into the bag and shoves a shaking finger into your chest.

>”You! Did you see?!”

>”Course I saw, you just held it—”

>”Not that, the tag! Did you see the size?!”


>Not that you know where they’d hide a label on something with that little fabric.

>Ivy visibly relaxes after you assuage her fear.

>”Thank God.”

>”But I don’t need a label to tell me that you’re a 34B-22-34 and weigh about—”

>”Ah! You… you...”

>Ivy raises that shaking finger to your chest again, this time you can see the color rising in her face along with it.

>”Hit it right on the money, didn’t I?”

>”Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Get out!”

>In another show of that freakish strength the kitsune practically flings you out of her apartment and slams the door behind you.

>You turn and knock.

>”WHAT?!” She throws the door open, embarrassment still clear on her face

>”I know those shoes are a size ten, too.”

>Ivy slams the door so hard your ears ring.

>Man she’s cute when she’s angry.

>Goddammit. You were just flirting with her, weren’t you?

>You lean your head against the cool doorframe and ignore Ivy’s embarrassed squealing from the other side while you collect your thoughts.

>Yeah, fuck this, it’s time to go home.

>You climb down the stairs to your basement apartment, stash the money and break out the booze.

>A few drinks in the world starts to take on that comfortable fuzzy feeling it has when everything actually makes sense.

>Yeah, you were totally being stupid. Why would you even like the cute foxgirl that’s fun to tease, easy to be around, cares about you and is probably the one person alive you feel like you can trust?

>You’re a whore; this was bad for both of you. Even though Ivy thinks you’re everything she needs. Even though she might be everything you need.

>You fill another drink to the brim.

>Being drunk is supposed to make this easier. It’s not easier.

>Actually, aren’t you just making it worse?

>There’s one solution to your problem: more booze

>You wake up in the morning with two headaches: one metaphorical and one very, very literal.

>Whatever, you’ll be fine. All you need is some space. A little time away from Ivy and you’ll get over your immature little crush. No problem.

>After that last job you’ve got money to last you a while, it’ll last even longer if you stay on the streets and keep raking it in.

>That’s your plan, and you stick to it.

>Ivy’s car has a really distinct sound; you end up jumping at a few shadows, but for the most part making yourself scarce when you hear it close is easy. It’s not like she’s going to get out and walk around where you work, so if you can dodge the car you can dodge the fox.

>Six days pass since the end of your little trip. You manage to burn through your booze stash, but you’ve got money for plenty more. Not like you really need much now that you’re over the initial hump.

>You’re in your usual spot staring into space, taking slow drags on a cig when the sound of an engine catches your attention.

>A second of strained listening later you relax; the noise isn’t the same and whatever’s making it isn’t being driven like there’s a boulder on the gas pedal.

>For whatever reason you find yourself following the source of the sound, idly watching the red BMW as it pulls in front of you.

>The car’s nowhere near as nice as Ivy’s, but you still find yourself trying to look nonchalant as you walk over and lean down to the window.

>There’s a fine line between cute and sexy, and this woman walks it like a tightrope artist.

>A white halter top with a modest V covers breasts not quite big enough to make her look like a sex toy but not small enough to make her look like an innocent girl, either and a taught midriff to boot.

>You can’t see her feet, but you can see that she waers her tight blue jeans like they were made to show off her legs and hers alone. ‘Course, they still do a pretty good job of showing off her hips, too.

>The look is topped off a black choker and a wide-brimmed sun hat. The two seem like an odd combination, but they work for her.

>It says something that she’s parading all of that innocently concealed sex and what really catches your attention are her eyes.

>They’re this beautiful shade of baby blue with a darker ring around the pupil.

>Looking closer you can almost make out some kind of pattern in the mess of color that makes up an eye. Something in those lines and dots of light and dark…

>Five of something in a circle around her pupil… Flower petals?

>”Cherry Blossoms.” The woman behind the wheel smiles.


>Cherry Blossoms. People say my eyes look like them.”


>She giggles. “You have sharp eyes, other men have known me for years before noticing that.”

>You weigh your next words carefully; she caught you off guard before, but you’re not letting her do it again.

>”I don’t know how anyone could miss something so beautiful. Anyway, what can I do for you, miss?”

>The woman in the car continues as if she doesn’t notice your compliment.

>”I don’t see any pink. You aren’t full service, are you?”

>”No, if you want the whole package you’ll need to head down that way a little.”

>”I’d prefer to keep things legal, actually. It’d be a shame to have the police interrupt our fun.”

>”I’m starting to think so, too.”

>”Now then, about your fees…”

>The two of you haggle over a price briefly and settle on something reasonable.

>You open the door of the car and hesitate for just a second.

>This woman doesn’t seem dangerous, but you still don’t know what she is. you’re sure she’s not human, but you’ve only got one clue about what kind of mamono she is and you can’t place it.

>Whatever, you can trust your gut. It doesn’t lead you wrong. Often.

>You climb inside and shut the door.

>”I haven’t caught your name yet,” your client says as she drives.

>”It’s Anonymous. And you?”

>”Crystal. Charmed.”

>”Not yet, you’re not.”

>She giggles. “Oh, don’t be so sure of that.”

>The woman takes the two of you you to a hotel.

>That’s hotel with an H.

>Not only does the place not charge by the hour, there are robes in the bathroom and the beds don’t even look gross.

>You’re in a smoking room so the smell of tobacco is everywhere, but even then this place is a huge step up from the dives your clients normally take you to even if it’s nowhere near as swanky as Ivy’s pad.

>You take your shoes off and sit against the headboard. Crystal proceeds to strip.

>Lots of your clients like to try and put on a show for you, like they’re actually working to seduce you and you’re not just waiting for them to take their damn clothes off because you’re getting paid by the hour.

>Somehow this chick manages to make even taking off a pair of jeans sexy before she walks over to the bed.

>It’s weird though, chicks normally start from the top, the pants are the last thing to come off but she starts there.

>She’s so confident as she undoes the string holding her top up it’s almost uncanny.

>Then she steps out of it. Who the fuck steps out of a shirt? It’s a fucking SHIRT.

>She reaches the foot of the bed wearing nothing but her hat and choker. Well, those and a jet black bush thick enough to make an 80’s pornstar jealous covering the most important bit.

>Wait, was it moving? The AC wasn’t on in here.

>That air of confidence vanishes as she reaches for the brim. She hesitates there.

>”What, are you planning to wear that the whole time?” You really hoped she wasn’t going to make the rest of this as difficult as Ivy’s first time.

>That does it; in one motion she flips off the hat to reveal… nothing.

>The only hair on her head is her eyebrows and eyelashes, and even those are a little thin.

>What the shit? Wait, don’t stare!

>”This is going to be a lot less awkward for both of us if you just ask and get it out of the way.” She says as the hat hits the ground.

>”Alright, so why are you, uh, you know?”


>”Yeah, that.”

>The woman smiles, regaining some of that old confidence as she slowly crawls up your body on the bed.

>Her gorgeous breasts sway as she climbs towards you. They’re a good size, a little larger than Ivy’s, but you wish she’d cut the seductress act so you can get to work.

>”Oh, just a little chemo. You’re going to make me forget alllllll about that though, aren’t you?”

>That’s some heavy shit. Lots of your clients are like that though; cancer, dead or stolen lovers, the whole nine yards. The work problems a certain kitsune came to you with are actually on the low end of the scale.

>Well, kinda. It’s hard to say that since you’ve talked to her mom.

>Not the time to think about that! It is the perfect time for you to work your magic though.

>You stare into those oh so interesting eyes and stroke her chin as you answer.

>”Forget about what?”

>It was a cheesy response, but sometimes cheese is good.

>You playfully wrestle with Crystal until you’re in a big spoon position and slowly run your fingers over her body.

>She melts under the attention just like you intend, sighing, giggling, and squirming to be closer to your touch.

>Somewhere in the middle of your session she takes your hand as you caress her thigh and guides it somewhere more intimate. Too intimate.

>You try to resist, but like most mamono she’s stronger than she looks.

>”Hey, I don’t—”

>Your complaint is cut short when your fingers actually touch where she was guiding you—not her cunt, but her pubes.

>They’re soft and silky, more like petting a cloud than hair. Even whatever Ivy conditions with doesn’t make her hair feel like that.

>”Feel good?” she asks as you idly lose yourself in twirling the hair around your fingers.

>”Feels amazing…”

>You have a hand cupping her breast as well, but you quickly forget about that and devote all of your focus to the one stroking her pubic hair.

>It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. The touch of her velvety lower locks alone sends shivers down your spine.

Even better yet is the smell that comes out as you play with them. It’s a sexual feminine musk, but there’s another smell on top of that, some kind of flower. Jasmine?

>Doesn’t even matter, you could do this all day. All month, even.

>You pride yourself on your ability not to pop a boner even in the hottest situations, but this woman, this texture, this scent… your meat is rising and you don’t care.

>Hell, if you actually used that thing for what it was made for now that’d just be one more way to feel this hair you want to bury yourself in.

>What would it feel like to to hilt yourself in side of her and let that tuft of heaven rub against your crotch?

>She looks like she’d be good in the sack, too...

>Even as your dick rises another thought bobs to the top of your entranced mind.





>Your heavy eyelids snap open at the realization.

>Those cherry blossom or whatever eyes were the ONE way to tell a kejourou with a haircut from a normal 9/10 human girl and you’d looked right at ‘em. How had you forgotten that?!

>You drag your hand away from the happiest place on earth as fast as you can manage—admittedly, that’s not very fast. This might be what it feels like to be a drug addict.

>”You don’t have to stop,” Crystal whines as she catches your fleeing hand and interlocks her fingers with yours. “That’s the last hair I’ve got left, you may as well enjoy it.”

>You take a deep breath and draw your mind away from the tendrils stroking the parts of your fingers still within reach.

>Was she trying to fuck you?

>It almost worked, but she wasn’t. No, this was just a mamono with something important to her taken away trying to feel normal again. Yeah, right now Crystal was like a kitsune without tails. Lots of your clients were like that, this one just had special bits way too easy to lose yourself in.

>It’s sad for her and dangerous for you. That’s business.

>Think fast and roll with it, Marco.

>With another effort of will you manage to pull your hand away. The girl complains, but you manage to climb onto her other side.

>”You,” you say as you plant a kiss on the body part in question, “have beautiful eyebrows.”

>She does, and they have the same effect on your lips that her pubes had on your hand. You’re not doing that again.

>Still, it’s enough to make the girl giggle. You’ve gotten yourself off the hook.

>An hour later your watch rings and you untangle yourself from Crystal.

>You look down at her to see that dreamy look of a job well done on her face. Ivy’s content expression looked a lot like hers.

>”You’re pretty good,” she says with a smile. “But there’s just one thing wrong with your technique.”

>”Yeah? Are you some kind of expert in Companion technique?”

>”Of sorts,” she says with a sly smile. “We’re in the same trade, you see.”

>”So you’re…”

>”I’m full service. It’s a shame all of my clients aren’t as gentle as you are. I’d have so much more fun at work.”

>She says she’s a whore, but she’s not. You know whores and she doesn’t act like any of them.

>She continues. “Anyway, you’re pretty good with your hands and all, but you had this one little flaw no mamono could overlook.”

>”What’s that?” You let yourself smirk a little as you finish. “Not hard enough on the nipples?”

>”I couldn’t manage to lose myself in you because you were thinking about another woman.”

>After a second you manage to close your mouth. Your response is hardly impressive.


>”It’s so obvious, Anonymous, you don’t need to hide it.”

>”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

>”I see. Coffee?”


>Man, you’re on a roll today.

>”There’s a coffee machine on the counter. Would you like any before you go?”

>”Sure, I guess.”

>Crystal stands up, still naked, and walks past the coffee maker to the bathroom to put on a robe.

>She hums as she gets to work setting up the machine.

>She’s not doing anything fancy, but somehow this slow sexual feeling manages to spring out of all of her movements. It’s crazy.

>”Do you mind if I call you Anon?”

>”Go ahead, all of my friends do.”

>”Okay. So what’s her name, Anon?”

>”Her name doesn’t matter.”

>”So there is a her.”


>”Yeah, so what?”

>”Oh nothing, I just thought you might like to talk about it. It helps sometimes.”

>’It helps sometimes,’ she says. What is she, a shrink?

>Then it clicks. She kind of is.

>When they did whore, kejourou got paid like it was raining money. For good reason, too: they did everything. They were the classiest companions and the dirtiest prostitutes all wrapped into one silky package.

>They were well read and well trained as lovers and as “friends.” Crystal must operate on a whole different level from you, but she should know how you feel and maybe even what to do about it.

>Still, her pushiness is pretty annoying.

>Part of you realizes you need someone a little pushy right now.

>You tell that part to shut the hell up.

>You turn your head to glare at Crystal. “So, do you always work off the clock?”

>”No,” she says with with a finger on her chin, “but I guess having you talk to me like this is making you work off the clock, isn’t it? Why don’t I pay you for an extra half hour? It’s not like I have anything better to do with my time these days; a kejourou of all things couldn’t draw any clients like this.”

>It’s kinda depressing, but she’s right.

>”So… how is it?”

>Her smile seems a little strained now. “It’s terrible. I have to sit in a chair for hours while they administer the chemo and then when I’m done with that I’m sick for hours. Food doesn’t taste good anymore and I don’t need to mention the hair. Buuut all that aside I finally have time to do something like this for myself.”

>”And the cash?”

>”I have some saved and the insurance takes care of most of the medical stuff.

>She has insurance?

>”It’s almost like I’m retired,” she continues, “But enough about me, I want to hear about you and your lady friend.”

>You groan and flop back on the bed. No distracting the chick, huh?


>”I’m curious.”

>Nosy, more like. She’s got you for the next half hour though, if you don’t talk she’s going to badger you until you do. You briefly wonder how Sonata’s doing.

>The coffee maker gurgles out the end of its cycle as you think about how to say what you want to say.

>”How do you take it?” Crystal asks over the sound of plastic crinkling.


>”Two creams and a sugar it is,” she replies.

>That’s how you make it at home, but never when anyone can see you drinking it. Only kids drink their coffee with cream and sugar.

>She smiles as she walks over and hands you your mug. “There’s only the two of us, no need to fake appearances here.”

>You grumble and rest the cup on your chest before finally deciding to just blurt out what you need to say.

>”Have you ever had a client… fall for you?”

>”Like fall in love?” Crystal asks as she sips her coffee.

>”Yeah, like that.”


>”Well, what do you do?”

>”Nothing, usually. I don’t take anyone that I think would get aggressive or anything, so unless I have feelings back… oh. So that’s the problem? You fell in love with a client?”

>”No, it’s just her.”

>”I see,” Crystal says as she reaches down to run her fingers through your hair. “But hypothetically, if your heart did skip a beat every time you saw this woman—”

>”I didn’t say that.”

>”I know you didn’t, but this is all hypothetical. Go on.”

>”Alright, well if, if, I went for a client it’d be unprofessional, right?”

>”Would it matter?”

>”What do you mean ‘would it matter?’ Of course it would.”

>”Why?” Crystal’s fingers stop messing with your scalp as she waits for your answer.

>”Because, uh… client relationships and bad examples and stuff”

>”See? ‘Professionalism’ is the excuse of someone that’s afraid to try something uncomfortable. It’s nebulous gives the speaker some illusion of honor. It’s not like you’re fooling her into thinking you’re something you aren’t either. She knows what you do, right?”

>You grunt and sit up, pulling your head away from her hand. “What do you know? Besides, at the end of the day I’m still a whore. Me dating her wouldn’t be good for either of us. Hypothetically.”

>You sip your coffee as Crystal mulls over what you just said.

>”Hey, are prostitutes undeserving of love?”


>”Prostitutes, Anon. Whores. Is it okay for them to be loved? Am I too dirty and used for anyone to care about me ever again?”

>”I… I don’t… no, you’re not.”

>”Then you aren’t either, Anonymous. Everyone deserves to be loved. Even whores. Even matango.”

>”Are you sure about that last—”

>Crystal continues right over your protest, her voice rising in pitch. “The way I see it, it’s just another job. Everyone that works for a living sells themselves if you think about it. Every good we make, every service we offer is a form of prostitution. Think about coffee beans for example. Someone went out into a field and picked these for hours, bent over and sweaty, probably hating every minute of it but doing it anyway. and why? For money. We give up our time, our bodies. We’re forced themselves into relationships that they wouldn't otherwise have.  It’s just different skills and body parts being used, that’s all.”

>Seriously? That logic is hilarious! ...Until you start to think about it.

>”I don’t know. I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

>”That’s fine,” she smiles, “just so long as you don’t stop thinking until you find your answer.”

>After that the kejourou guides the conversation to safer areas. You talk about the weather, current events, the odd sports team. You actually manage to enjoy the rest of that half hour.

>Business keeps up after that. Normally after a month or so of weekly visits you start to think of clients as regulars. Crystal becomes one and an alp you still could’ve mistaken for a dude comes to you pretty often too.

>You remind yourself constantly to be reaaaaaal careful around that last one, but for now she seems to be content telling you how totally not gay she is while snuggling into your chest. It’s risky, but you make her pay well and she doesn’t ask for much.

>You can tell Ivy’s freaking out a little though; one day after about five weeks of you dodging her she drives through your turf three times in an hour.

>You call it quits and head home early that day.

>You do a decent job of convincing yourself you don’t care about her anymore, but the constant desire to congratulate yourself by letting yourself see her again is a sure sign you’re bullshitting.

>Your damn subconscious or whatever is playing against you.

>Fine, you’ve got all the time in the world to wait this out. She’s got more though, plenty of time to be alone and cold like you’re starting to—

>Routine. It always helps. You fall into one; you go to work, go home, maybe jerk off a little. It’s good.

>The problem is that you often end up stroking to that day in the shower or one of the other times you were with Ivy naked.

>You’re hopeless.

>The good news is you don’t have to tempt yourself with her presence; after that neurotic day she barely shows up anymore at all. It’s… quiet.

>That’s cool, this is what you wanted. Can’t get too close, professionalism and all.

>You’re kinda lonely.

>The idea that you’re running away from something crosses your mind, but you chase the thought away. The only thing wrong here is your feelings, and those aren’t something you can fight, anyway.

>There’s an unpleasant thought. Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to do right now?

>You hit the two month mark since the last time you saw Ivy.

>Your kejourou stops showing up.

>She hadn’t been looking too well for a while. You’ve got no way of seeing what’s up when she doesn’t come see you so all you can do is wonder.

>It was too bad, really. You actually liked talking to her, even if you did your best to ignore her prodding.

>The thought that you’re doing the same thing to someone else right now barely breaks the surface of your mind before you shove it back under again.

>Even your alp has moved on; she started talking about some dude and then disappeared.

>You hope she’s happy, even if your second highest paying customer is gone.

>That question leads you to think about your number one highest payer.

>Dammit, still?

>Maybe you’ll splurge a little on tonight’s hooch.

>A few more weeks pass by the same way. Winter’s starting to set in and it’s getting cold. You can handle the heat, but rough clients and the cold make your job suck.

>A car pulls up in front of you you’re almost as excited by the prospect of a heater as you are of new money.

>It’s got rental plate holders. You don’t think much of that; plenty of businesswomen like to indulge in a little something they’d never do at home when they’re a few hundred miles away.

>Personally, you don’t really care; it’s all the same to you.

>You have to try to suppress a laugh as you stoop to look into the window.

>The woman inside wears a scarf to cover her hair and giant sunglasses to cover her face. Something she’s hiding under her coat makes her look like a hunchback, too.

>It’s a ridiculous disguise, the kind that draws more attention than it shields you from. Total amateur work.

>Then you get a better look at what’s visible of your future customer’s face.



>”Get in.”



>You briefly consider what you would look like on the bottom of a river with a pair of cement shoes, but this is Ivy.

>You open the door and get in.

>The car pulls into traffic and Ivy drives silently for a few minutes.

>It gets awkward so you try to say something, anything.

>”So, uh…”

>”Shut up.”

>Ivy’s hands are shaking on the wheel with barely suppressed emotion, her knuckles white around it.

>Yup, seems like a good idea to shut the hell up.

>This goes on until Ivy parks the car next to a levy and kills the engine.

>Hooker. Body of water. Angry client.

>This is the stuff dead prostitutes are made of and your mental alarms should be ringing like crazy but they’re dead silent. You’re more worried about what Ivy’s going to say.

>The answer is ‘nothing.’

>All she does is rip her sunglasses off her face and throw them onto the dashboard before resting her head against the wheel.


>”So are you gonna say somethin’ or are we just gonna bask in each other’s presence all day?”

>Ivy doesn’t look at you as she speaks and her face is hidden behind her hands. “Do you know how worried I was?”

>”Not a wink, I’m sure.”


>Something warm and wet hits your hand as Ivy spins her head to face you. It’s at that moment that you notice the tears streaming down the kitsune’s face.


>”If I did something to make you hate me you could’ve at least had the decency to tell me so I wouldn’t spend every! Single! Night! Wondering if someone shot you or raped you into a puddle!”

>”I don’t hate—”

>”Then why are you avoiding me?! Did Mom say something?! Was it Joyce?! I’ll kill her myself if—”

>”Listen! I wasn’t avoiding you.”

>”BULLSHIT, MARCO!” The fox looks at you for a second, panting. When she speaks again the strength has left her voice and is replaced by an uncertain quiver. “Whatever I did, whoever said whatever you could’ve just told me to fuck off or something. But ignoring me? Pretending I don’t exist? How could you be so cold?”

>”I got some issues to work out, okay?”

>”No. You could’ve called. You should’ve at least called.”

>”No I couldn’t, that’s part of the issue! Why the hell should I call you anyway, you’re just another john!”

>Ivy recoils like you just slapped her.

>Of all the stupid—you regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth.

>You’d wanted your distance from her, but here she is right in front of you right now and crying, and you come up with some shit like that to say?

>She’s right, you really are a cold bastard. You didn’t even think about how she’d react to you dodging her. Even after you knew she was getting anxious you just kept up the act.

>”That’s right,” she manages to laugh through her tears, “I’m just a john. Then tell me, how much do I have to pay to make you stop trampling my heart?”


>”You know what? Forget it. I found out what I needed to know. You’re not dead, you’re just an asshole. I’ll drop you off and you can avoid me all you want.”

>The fox reaches for the ignition, but you catch her wrist before she can reach the keys.

>There’s a moment of silence as both of you stay right where you are. You don’t know what to say, but you know you don’t want Ivy gone already.

>For just a second before Ivy speaks there’s nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat and the warmth of her hand.

>”Marco, what are we to each other?”

>”Is there any tissue in this thing?” You ask as you let go of her hand and pop open the glove box, “You keep cryin’ and you’re gonna drown us.”

>”I asked you a question.”

>You snap the compartment shut and let out a long breath before answering. “I don’t know.”

>”Is that what this is all about?” Ivy wipes her eyes with a sleeve before finishing. “You’re confused about us?”

>”I’m confused about you.”

>”That’s kinda sad, you know that?”

>”Yeah, well, what do ya want? There ain’t exactly a lot of healthy relationships in my past or nothin’.”

>Not many in your future either if you keep this crap up.

>”So do you want to talk about it?”


>Suddenly you really need a smoke. You open the door and climb out before the fox has a chance to say anything else.

>It’s cold out, but the air feels good as you light up and take your first puffs on top of the hood.

>You don’t turn to look when you hear the door open or when the car settles under another weight on your left.

>”Go back inside,” you say, letting out a puff of smoke. “It’s cold out here.”

>”I don’t want to.”

>”You hate the smell of cigarettes and if you sit that close to me it’s gonna get into your clothes. Just get back in the car.”

>A pair of fingers digs into your sleeve. “No. If I don’t follow you you’ll just keep running away.”

>”’Just keep running away?’ I ain’t runnin’.”

>”Yes you are. Just talk to me already.”

>You take a long drag before answering, still staring off into the distance even though the levee is maybe ten yards away.

>”You wanna talk? Fine. I can admit I was bein’ an ass, not thinkin’ about you or anything, but d’you ever think about what you’re doin’?”

>”Don’t you even try to give me the victim act—”

>”Please, unless you decide ta melt me I can handle more than you can dish out. I’m talkin’ about what you’re doin’ to yourself.”

>”And what’s that?”

>”I’m a whore, Ivy. You ever stop to think about what that means? What would your moms think, huh? Joyce’d cook me well done herself if she knew, and god knows what those snivellin’ jerkoffs in your office would say.”

>”Who cares?”

>That wasn’t the response you were expecting. It’s not the one she should be giving, either.

>”You should care! You’ve got family and a career to think about, you can’t just throw it away because of some whore!”

>”Love makes everything fine.”

>”Did you seriously just say that? This isn’t some fuckin’ Disney movie!”

>”Then we should make it one! I don’t care if you’ve got the scent of fifteen other women on you and you spend every day walking the streets. I mean, it’s dangerous and I don’t like it, but for you I can handle it. And what about you? You’re sitting here telling me what I should think but you haven’t said anything about how you’re feeling about this, how you feel about me!”

>”Yeah, well…”

>”Can’t you answer me? All this about how you’re not someone I should be interested in but you haven’t looked at it the other way. You’ve got no reason not to be in love with me, right? So are you or am I just pining after the gruff guy like a school girl? Tell me that, because that’s what I want to hear about, not whether or not you’re a hooker.”

>”It’s not that simple.”

>”It’s a very simple yes or no question, Marco. Do you love me?”

>There’s that word. you’ve thought it once or twice yourself, but saying it out loud is a whole different animal. And are you really even sure it’s true? Really sure?

>Hell, is she even completely positive that’s what this is?

>You need to think, but you can’t take too long to answer either.

>The result is you doing both and flapping your yap open and shut like a retard.

>Ivy’s face flashes from hurt to angry to annoyed before she opens her mouth again. It looks like she realized what your hangup was. “Let me rephrase that. Do you have feelings for me?”

>Because of the intensity of the conversation you and Ivy are only a few inches apart and your breath hitting one another. As you answer, you feel yourself deflate and sink backward.

>”Yeah. I guess.

>”Men... Okay, so then if I love you and you lo—want me, what’s the big hangup about your job? And so help me, if you say anything about professionalism...

>”You know what that prostitute ‘professionalism’ is supposed to prevent? Situations like this. It’s better for both of us if you don’t go all head over heels for some prostitute. You deserve better.”

>”You know what? I can understand that. Half of it, anyway. What about that is protecting you? What are you gaining by not accepting your feelings?”


>What were you gaining? Crystal had said something back when, what was it? Something about honor. Yeah, that was it.

>At the end of the day that’s all you had. Before Ivy you were broke and your car didn’t even run. People looked at you the same way they would a bum, and the ones that didn’t thought of you like a tool.

>So what else was there for you? If someone took away that last little bit of pride you clung to by following some set of rules, what was left?

>You don’t know, and you sure as hell don’t know what to say.

>”Hey. Forget that and look at me.” Ivy’s voice is gentle as she reaches out to turn your head back towards her. She leaves her palms on your cheeks once she’s got you looking into her eyes. “What I deserve is someone who cares about me. Someone that will take me for who I am, not what I can give them or how I look or how I fuck. What I deserve, what I want more than anything is you.”

>Ivy’s holding your head, but you still look away.

>”You hard of hearin’ or just forgetful?”

>And were you eight or just really sulky?

>”Listen, this… this prostitution thing, it’s not who you are, it’s just what you do. If it really bothers you you can stop.”

>”There you go again with that ideal fantasy crap. How do you expect a guy with no resume and no training to get a job, huh?”

>I don’t know. You’re good with your hands, you could be a masseuse or something.”

>A slow tug brings your head away from Ivy’s hands.

>”You need a license for that. And anywhere ya don’t need a license givin’ a massage and bein’ a whore is the same thing.”

>”So you don’t even want to try?”

>Did you? Your life sucked, but you were used to it.

>That wasn’ the kind of thing you really wanted to hold on to, was it?

>”It ain’t like I don’t wanna, there’s just no point.”

>”I gave you a connection and you still haven’t called.”

>”Excuse me for not jumpin’ at the pity recommendation.”

>”Has anyone ever told you you’re way too proud for your own good?”

>You take a long drag on your cigarette. Better not tell her that number.

>”Nevermind,” Ivy sighs. “If I take you back now am I going to have to hunt you down again to make sure you’re still breathing or will I get a phone call from time to time?”

>You shrug. “I’ve never been good about callin’ people.”

>”You know, you are abs—”

>”So I’ll do ya one better.” You say as you flick your butt onto the gravel.

>You’ve already told her how you feel, forcing you to admit those feelings to yourself in the process. There’s only one way this can go, no point fighting it. It’s time to just drop the act and see what happens.

>Unceremoniously, you pull a pen out of your pocket and click it open.

>”Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

>Ivonne looks expectantly from the pen to you before obeying.

>Last chance, Marco, you can’t take this back or pretend it’s something else.

>You scribble ten digits on her hand. Ivy doesn’t open her eyes until you click the pen closed.

>”What does this mean?” Ivy asks while staring at her hand like she wants to burn the numbers into her brain.

>”It means you can’t be a client anymore. Clients don’t get my number.”

>”Um, okay. So then we’re… friends?”

>”No.” The kitsune manages to keep a straight face this time, but you still notice her ears droop. “I mean, that’s not gonna be enough for you, right?”

>”Well, no. But what about you?”

>”Probably not,” you grudgingly admit. “This is gonna have to be it for now though, I’ve… still got some things to deal with.”

>Things like not being a whore if you’re gonna date Ivy, for one. It’s gonna take some time.

>The fox nods. “Fine, I’ll give you some time. But even kitsune can’t wait forever, alright?”

>”So what, I get a couple decades or so?”

>”Just make up your mind before you’re wrinkly and we’ll talk.”

>You shove your hands into your pockets and stand up, ready to leave, but it feels like you’re forgetting something…

>”Hey Ivy?”


>Before you have a chance to think, and before she has a chance to react to how close you are, you lean in and peck her on the cheek.

>Even as you see her cheeks flush you can feel the heat rising in your own.

>”You’re... being really confusing today,” Ivy says as she struggles to make eye contact.

>”That’s because I am pretty confused today. Anyway, catch ya later.”

>With that you turn and walk past the car towards the road.

>”Wait!” Ivy calls out, “I can give you a ride back!”

>”I’ll take the bus,” you answer without stopping.

>”Can I call you later?”

>That makes you pause a second.

>”Not ‘til tomorrow.”

>”Okay,” your not-quite girlfriend practically has to yell at your back. “I will…”



>The transit system in your city is ass, but for once you’re not really worried about it; you weren’t planning on going back to work anyway.

>You stare off into space as the bus rumbles beneath you.

>What the hell even just happened back there?

>It seems like Ivy’s entire family has a way of making you realize things about yourself.

>Well, not Joyce, but two out of three isn’t bad.

>Somehow it feels like Ivy pulled one over on you, but it’s not like she was suggesting anything that would be bad.

>You don’t see the problem with what you’re thinking about doing until you make it all the way home.

>Once you boot up your old as shit computer and open up the browser only to stare at the screen with your hands hovering over the keyboard you finally realize you have no idea what the hell you’re doing.

>Did you just… put in applications?

>Where were you supposed to put in applications?

>What would you even be good at?

>Something with people, maybe? You can try that.

>You apply for a ton of no-requirements positions. Sales, marketing, radio, whatever. About a hundred applications over two or three weeks and you get nothing. Not even a call back.

>Kinda figures, you’re way too old not to have any job experience you can list and if anyone asks you what you’ve been doing for the last few years you sure as hell can’t say “whoring.”

>Man, come to think the last on-the-books job you had was that burger joint back before your dad died. You knew the guy that owned the place so you barely even had to ask for the job.

>Right now it feels like you’re chucking applications down a bottomless pit.

>Ivy’s adjusted pretty well to your not-clients-not-lovers relationship for now. She calls you frequently, but not often enough to be annoying.

>Every time she calls she’s full of encouragement and advice. Ivy keeps you going, but it’s obvious you were right about no one wanting to hire you ever.

>You’ve still got that card the fox gave you but you don’t want to use it. She seems to know it’s a good idea not to bring it up too, so the obvious suggestion goes unsaid.

>It really is frustrating working so hard with no results.

>It’s not like you’re ready to give up or anything, but you can’t stay in the house poking at keys all day, you’ve gotta go make some money.

>You stick to your corner like usual. You still try to get someone to give you attention for an interview, but you find yourself drifting more and more back to the old ways.

>That is, until one night when an orc propositions you.

>Something about her seems a little off, but one orc isn’t usually hard to deal with so you take the deal.

>Then she takes you past an alley and suddenly there are five of them.

>Five drunk, horny orcs.

>It doesn’t sound like a good time because it isn’t one.

>Before you even have time to yell all five of them are on top of you, hooting and snorting like they just got covered in a fresh batch of slop.

>Two hours. Two goddamn hours of muffled yelling and very not muffled squealing  with your bare ass on cold concrete after the skanks cut off your pants. Your favorite pants.

>You don’t go down with without a fight neither so you’re covered in scrapes, bruises and the makings of one hell of a shiner from one of the cunts socked you in the eye to shut you up.

>The five of ‘em kicked your ass and raped you, and to top it all off they stole your fucking wallet!

>”FUCKING CUNTS!” You yell as you throw open the door to your basement apartment.

>You feel used, abused and angry at the entire fucking world. All you’re looking forward to right now is a hot shower and a bottle of something strong.

>You grumble to yourself and every god you can think of as you stagger to the bathroom and strip off what’s left of your clothes.

>You twist the handles on the shower and lift your face to greet a piping hot stream of… nothing.

>You twist both handles farther and cold water drips from the shower head.

>The hell?

>The flow from the sink is just as pathetic. What’s wrong this time?

>You politely call your landlord and inquire exactly what the flying fuck might be wrong with your goddamn plumbing.

>You end your conversation after he’s sworn to have a plumber fix your shit tomorrow and before your threats make him call the cops.

>There’s no water in your apartment and your neighbors are assholes, so you tear up your place finding the next best thing: moist towelettes.

>They hand out free packets with some cleaning company’s number on them at the gas station by your house. You never even want any, but you can’t say no to the nice old lady they have handing them out.

>Who’da thought that basket of ‘em you’ve got in your closet would ever come in handy?

>There’s enough for you to wipe yourself down, but palm-size wipes aren’t enough to handle what you need to clean; you still reek of pig cunt, old booze and misery.

>You sit naked in the middle of a pile of dried out hand wipes and wonder where your life went wrong.

>Oh right, you were born. Fuck everything.

>To hell with cleaning up or putting on clothes, you leave the mess of towelettes on the floor and flop down on the couch naked, phone in hand.

>You’re worthless, unemployable, and five people just treated you like a meat dildo in broad daylight. No one should have to deal with this crap.

>Without really even thinking about it you thumb to Ivy’s number in your contacts.

>Whining to her sounds nice, but what’s she going to do? Best case scenario she says some stuff to make you feel better, worst case she hauls off and flambes some pork. As great as bacon sounds right now you really don’t want to see Ivy in jail.

>No, what you need to do is get some kinda job where rape isn’t a workplace hazard. You already tried everywhere though, and no one gave you the time of day.

>Everywhere but one place, that is. Is it… yup, the card Ivy gave you is still in your couch cushions. You pull it out to look at it then slowly dial the number.

>You didn’t want anyone’s pity or to feel indebted to Ivy, but when you’re pitying yourself this hard it’s not like anyone else’s empathy can hurt and Ivy’s not a bad person to be indebted to.

>Still, you really don’t want to call in the favor.

>Words echo through your mind. ”Has anyone ever told you you’re way too proud for your own good?”


>Know what? Fuck it. Send.

>The call goes straight to a directory and you dial in the extension listed.

>Two rings and you hear someone groping to pull the phone out of the cradle.

>”This is Charles.”

>What, no ‘thank you for calling Tulipe Esthétique’ or nothin’? Whatever, time to turn on the charm.

>”Hi Charles, my name is Marco. I heard you were hiring?”

>”I don’t know where you heard that, but we always accept applications—”

>What was it you were supposed to say again? You really should’ve written it down.

>”Would it matter if I said, uh… Richard Geere sent me?”

>”...Ah, Ms. Roberts.”

>“I g—”

>”There’s an address on the card you have, be there at seven tomorrow morning.”

>”Do I need to—”

>You were going to ask if you needed to bring anything, but there’s a click on the other end of the line and you know you’d only be talking yourself. This oughta be interesting.

>There isn’t a single pair of slacks in your closet, so you toss on a button up shirt with a pair of black jeans and pray that’s acceptable interview clothing.

>You probably should’ve thought this out a little more.

>With a little coaxing your car finally starts and you somehow manage to make it to the front door of the building right as your watch hits seven.

>You knock on the door and a short man lets you in. He doesn’t seem too happy to see you.

>”You must be Charles,” you say with an outstretched arm and a smile. “I’m Marco.”

>”Do you know what time it is?” He asks without bothering to take your hand. You don’t put it down.

>”Seven, just like you said.”

>”I said seven, that means you get here at 6:45.”

>”Okay… well I’ll remember that next time.”

>”The next time you make a first impression?”

>”Why don’t I make an impression that lasts a little longer?”

>”You’ll be hard pressed, but I look forward to seeing the effort.”

>With the initial banter out of the way Charles finally shakes your hand and the two of you take a second to look each other over.

>Holy crap this guy is GAY.

>Black vest, black tie, black pants, maroon shirt… were his eyebrows trimmed? They were, probably at the same time as his goatee.

>If by some miracle this faggot ever got turned into an incubus he’d be an alp in ten seconds flat. You can practically smell it.

>Wait, no, you actually can smell it. What’s with that cologne?

>He’s short too, just barely making it up to your shoulders. Hardly impressive for a manager.

>Charles doesn’t seem to be too impressed either.

>He frowns as he looks at your eye. “Let me guess, you fell down some stairs?”

>Son of a bitch goes and assumes you’re some battered husband right off the bat? You grit your teeth but work on a decent excuse instead of a comeback.

>“I got hit by a ball.”

>His frown doesn’t lighten at all.

>”I see. Come this way, I’ll give you the crash course.”

>Crash course your ass. The guy goes over every damn product in the place.

>Tulipe Esthétique is a cosmetics store, but you never realized what that meant until you wandered into the place.

>Makeup, lotions, perfumes, brushes, shampoos, everything a girl could need to feel beautiful short of a diamond necklace and a black dress they sell.

>They don’t do heels either, but apparently there’s a place down the street most of the girls recommend for that.

>There are hundreds of things and Charles only touches on them in categories rather than individual products. Even then there are too many uses and ingredients to keep up with.

>You snag some register tape and start taking notes which seems to earn you some point in Charles’ book but doesn’t help much now. You’re gonna need weeks to go over all this stuff.

>Your three hour tour ends in the makeup department as the regular employees are bustling around opening the store.

>Everywhere else you had some idea what the stuff was supposed to do in general; you know what hair brushes are for even if you don’t know why it matters if the bristles are imported boar. You know what lotion does even if you have no idea what Shea does. You don’t know what the foundation is nor do you have any idea how to ‘redo highlights.’

>Apparently you’re expected to learn.

>You took a lot of notes in the rest of the store but you triple that amount in the makeup section alone.

>Your wrist is starting to cramp.

>Right when you think you can’t write or take in any more Charles gestures for you to sit in a high chair. You’re more than happy to take a load off until you see him pulling product samples and brushes together.

>”What’re you doing?” You ask.

>”A practical lesson,” the midget intones.

>”Look, I don’t wear makeup.”

>”You do if you want to work here. No employee of mine is walking around with a black eye in a store that sells cosmetics.”

>You grumble a little but settle in the chair as he gets to work.

>”This one is popular amongst our clients that… play sports,” Charles chatters as he rubs on something under your eye with a sponge.

>”Do you get a lot of chicks that ball around here?”

>”Not chicks, no.”


>Suddenly you wonder how much of an amazon’s monthly expenses go to husband makeup.

>Charles jabbers on about all of the products he applies to your face. It’s a good review and you get to see the products in action, but more importantly you notice that it feels amazing.

>The brushes, sponges and changes in temperature on your skin as your new boss applies the various creams and powders sends tingles over your entire body.

>If it wasn’t a dude doing this you could enjoy it

>Wait… what if you weren’t a dude? You have an idea!

>”What are you smiling for?” Charles asks, frowning as your face moving makes it hard for him to work.

>”I was just thinking, most of your customers are women, right?”

>”Most of them.”

>”Then you should set me up right here.”

>The alp-waiting-to-happen frowns as he looks at the stack of notes in your hand.

>”Let’s start you off in hair care instead.”

>”Hey, trust me on this one.”

>He pauses for a second, not quite sure what to make of your sudden confidence.

>”Alright,” he says as he hands you a mirror. He’s a smart guy.

>He also does miracles with makeup; you’ve gotta squint to see your black eye. Luckily it was only a little puffy, but he even hid most of that.

>You had a lot to learn, but once you did…

>”In the mean time,” Charles begins, reaching under another counter to pull out a fat stack of papers, “I’ll expect you to have filled out these forms and gone through this material by tomorrow and show up in dress code appropriate clothing as well.”

>”What’s the dress code?”

>”It’s described in the packet. Now then, since we’re saving the paperwork for another day—”

>”Can you do that?” The guy hasn’t done a background check or anything. You could be illegal for all he knows.

>”I’m doing it. As I was saying, we’ll go into details later, but I need to get a few things clear. You’re here because Ivonne herself recommended you. That does not mean you get to stay no matter what, understand? Show up late and you’re fired, screw up and you’re fired, touch the register before your background check goes through and you’re fired, steal anything and you’re fired, get a customer complaint and you’re fired, got it?”

>”Is there anything I can do that doesn’t end in me getting fired?”

>”You can make me lots of money. On that note, Linda!”

>Charles waves over an older human lady walking past and gestures to you.

>”Our brave friend here wants to specialize in makeup, show him the ropes, would you?”

>”Certainly,” she replies with a smile she keeps on her face long after the midget nods and walks away.

>Okay then.

>“He’s a lot nicer once you get to know him,” Linda says as soon as he’s out of earshot. “Oh, you’re going to have so much fun, the people are so nice and we have these contests and every Fourth of July we—”

>”Right. Anyway, makeup?”

>Makeup. Lots of fucking makeup.

>Ivy’s elated when she finds out you finally took her up on the recommendation.

>Even with her abundant knowledge and your own struggle to learn all there is to learn it takes months before you’re any good with the product.

>You manage to get together some work clothes together after that first day and you sit through the boring as hell orientation with no problem other than staying awake.

>The hourly pay is peanuts since the job’s on commision so you end up working two jobs.

>It’s tough doing both, but somehow knowing that you’re working towards something better still makes it all seem worth it.

>That and your plan, that is.

>You need to learn about the stuff to sell it, but what you’re really planning—that idea you got when Charles was making you pretty—has a lot less to do with that and a lot more to do with what you already do know: namely women.

>You’ve got a bunch of creams, lotions and powders that you can apply with your hands, whatever sponges or a good makeup brush. You’re good with those, but then there are the hair products, brushes and combs you work miracles with.

>A compliment here, a friendly smile there, and a healthy dose of well applied samples everywhere and your customers are putty in your hands.

>You give the spiel on how the stuff you’re selling works while you’re putting it on, but what you’re really selling is yourself. At least at first.

>The idea is to get the girls that come to you all relaxed and giggly so they’ll buy whatever the cute salesman is giving them, then they take the stuff home and actually use it, that’s where the right recommendations and the quality of what you’re selling come in.

>So, your girls come in, get treated like a princess long enough for you to drain their wallets (and fill yours), then go home and discover everything you told them about what they were buying is true. What do they do? They come back for more, maybe try a few more things so you’ll touch them again, whatever. More sales for you, and more sales mean more money.

>More importantly though, your clients tell their friends about the amazing salesman, and those friends come to see you. You do the same thing and the cycle repeats.

>Before you know it you’ve got people lining up to have you spend their cash.

>Your coworkers call you “Magic Hands,” Charles calls you money. Life is good, you even start bringing in enough to stop supplementing your checks with some cuddle cash on the side.

>That’s good, because people are starting to recognize you. It’s kinda awkward.

>Seriously, it’s weird feeling someone up while trying to convince them you didn’t sell them a new brush the other day.

>You’re doing a lot of the same things you did when you were working as a companion. Sure it’s less intimate and you’re working with a different set of standards, but people look at you different now.

>You feel different too. It’s like, yeah, not having to worry about getting raped on the job anymore is nice and all, but what you really like is feeling like you’re doing something.

>Before, your clients were happy when they were with you, then it was back to the usual as soon as they were gone. Selling Tulipe Esthétique’s beauty products though, you feel like they stay happier. Maybe something about raising their self confidence by making them look and smell better. Whatever.

>Nah, that’s probably giving yourself too much credit, but that’s how you feel and you like it.

>Maybe most importantly you’re an honest man now.

>It’s been seven months since that day by the levee. Ivy’s put up with your not-lovers-but-more-than-friends relationship shockingly well.

>She never even complained that you wouldn’t meet her for anything more intimate than coffee dates that she had to put together.

>But now? Well, you’ve taken care of the only thing keeping you from her. You may still only be a salesman while she owns the company, but at least you’re not a whore, and that’s good enough.

>It’s probably about time for an actual date, huh?

>You blow a few days dicking around wondering where you should take her before the results of a sales contest you forgot you were competing in come in. You won.

>Winning these things wasn’t uncommon for you, but what you got this time was like a sign: two tickets to the water park that opened up a little while back. Okay.

>You go home that night and call Ivy. You’re a little earlier than usual so she might still be at work.

>”H-hello?” A man’s voice asks when you call her private line.

>”Uh, isn’t this Ivonne’s number?”

>”N-no, but if you’d like I can—”


>You hang up and try her home number. The voice you know answers after the third ring

> “Hello?”

>”It’s me.”

>”Oh, you’re calling me? Did someone die?”

>”No, but you’re gonna think you died and went to heaven. You free Friday?”

>”Sure.” Not even a moment of hesitation, huh?

>”What time?”

>”All the time.”

>That was a little weird.

>”You calling in executive privilege or something?”

>”Something like that,” the fox responds with a sly tone in her voice. “Anyway, what’s the plan?”

>”You know that new water slide place that opened up? I got tickets.”

>There’s a pause on the line.

>”Wait a second, is this a date?”


>”Like a date date?”


>”A romantic getaway that you’re setting up yourself date?”

>”I’m hoping.”

>”A between a man and a woman date that means we’re dating date?”

>”Ivy. It’s. A. Date.”

>You have to jerk the receiver away from your ear when the kitsune squeals into the phone.

>”Okay! When are you picking me up?!”

>”Ten okay?”

>”Ten’s great! Oh, what time is it now? I need to go buy a new swimsuit… see you Friday Marco!”

>Before you can even say goodbye the line is dead.

>Come to think, you’ve seen Ivy naked before, but what would she look like in a swimsuit?



    It’s really time to think about getting a new car. You’ve got a stable job, listable income and, more importantly, your current hunk of junk is an embarrassment to drive. It’s a good thing Ivy saves you the trouble of going in to pick her up, you’d die if you had to park in that condo garage next to all those Mercedes and BMWs.

“Morning, Princess,” you say as Ivy bounces into your passenger seat.

“You’re still calling me that?”

“Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“It really doesn’t.” Ivy sighs as she puts on her seat belt and leans back.


    You take a second to look her over before you pull out. Leather sandals, no heel, shorter shorts than you’d ever expect to see her in, a white blouse and a wide floppy hat with a matching bag and big sunglasses to top it all off. Seeing her like that reminds you of two things: one, that she looks as good dressed down as dressed up, and two that she wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She really does know how to wear those clothes, even still.


You also notice that most of your passenger window is covered in fluff. Your ride was so cheap it didn’t have any tail cutouts in the seat, so Ivy had to arrange herself against the door. Lane changes were going to get annoying. Oh well, if old people could drive without checking their shoulders so could you.


Enough of that, time to head out. The jalopy you call a car struggles up to traffic speed and you’re on your way. You and Ivy chatter like usual, the conversation drifting from one topic to another. Ivy goes oddly quiet when you end up talking about work. It’s weird, but you ignore that feeling until you finally can’t take it anymore and force her to say something about what she’s been up to.

“So how ‘bout you? How’s the big important boss lady get a Friday off? I figured you should be on a plane to Rome or somethin’.”

“France, actually,” the kitsune replies looking out of the window through a hole in her tails.

“So what, you blew that off to go swimming?”

“Hardly. I take my responsibilities seriously, you know? I wouldn’t just took your advice is all.”

“What advice was that?” Not only had you never said anything noteworthy, the game she was playing was getting annoying. You almost regret asking when she turns to you with the biggest asshole grin you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Fuck all of ‘em.”

Whoa whoa whoa. “You quit?”

“I quit,” Ivy says, that grin somehow managing to get even larger, “I screwed over the assholes clambering for my position like I was ready to croak and I gave an upcoming young man a leg up.”


    That doesn’t sound good, you work for the company where she just messed up the management. On top of that she was already doing a good job. This was going to mean all kinds of changes and stability was your friend now! You groan inwardly but decide to ask the obvious question anyway.


“I was just tired of everything, you know? The politics, the people, the environment… so I got out and let the mail boy take over.”

“THE MAIL BOY?!” You’re so stunned you don’t notice yourself leaving your lane until a honking horn makes you veer back into it.

“Oh, relax. It’s not like I grabbed any schmuck and put him in the big chair. The kid should be working way higher up. I talked to him, you know? Checked his credentials? He’s bright, even fresh out of school he’s got good ideas.  He shouldn’t be anywhere near that mailroom, he’s just stuck down there because he doesn’t know anyone. He’d be down there for a while, too long, before anyone else took notice of him.”

“Christ Ivy, do you know what you just did? People have their retirements in that company! Don’t you too?!”

“Sure, but not all of it. That’d be stupid. Anyway, the company’s not in any danger. I’m still on in an advisory role and I connected him with a few others I can at least trust not to make him fail intentionally. Besides, I picked him myself, he’s guaranteed to succeed.”

You want to be angry, but you can’t when Ivy’s beaming next to you like she just won the lotto. Not like she’d care. You decide to settle for exasperation instead.

“I hope this was all worth it for a prank.” You also hope you’re going to be employed this time next year.

“It was! Does the name Albert Monroe mean anything to you?”


“It should, he’s the head of PR. Anyway, when he found out that I managed to force the promotion through the fat bastard fainted right in his seat. The entire boardroom smelled like nervous old man sweat when I left.”


You gulp. Ivy does have a good eye, right? It’s not like she wanted to screw over the company either, just the assholes at the top. Could she do that without messing things up for the people at the bottom? All you could do was hope so; it wasn’t like the little guy at the bottom could do anything and now Ivy wasn’t in a position to do too much either. You had a reputation and something to put on a resume now, you’d be fine one way or the other. Better just to enjoy the day and see what was going to happen than freakin’ out over something you couldn’t fix. Fine, you could be in a good mood today too. Your next comment comes past lips cracking into a smile.


“Ya know, I never thought I’d see you takin’ my advice.”

Ivy shrugs. “Sometimes the best advice comes from the strangest places. Besides, I was due for a change anyway.”

“Yeah? So what’re you gonna do now? Try the whole old lady gig for a few hundred years? Sit around, watch some Jeopardy? Maybe yell at your computer a little?”

“I was thinking I should move, get a place with a lawn I can yell at kids to stay off of. After that I thought I’d try teaching.” That was a surprisingly serious answer considering the grin still plastered on her face.

“Huh. You developin’ a thing for having your tails sucked?”

“Shut up. I was thinking second, third, maybe fourth grade. You know, while the kids are still young enough for you to really make a difference and before puberty kicks in and they turn into sex hungry jerks.”

“You know,” you say as you pull into the water park’s parking lot, “I can see it. Right now I wanna see you in a swimsuit though.”


    The heat from the blacktop is unbearable as the two of you grab your bags and make the long walk to the entrance. Your feet are gonna burn like eggs in a hot skillet, you really hope the cement inside the park isn’t as hot. The guards at the gate look as warm as you feel by the time you reach them. You and Ivy hop on opposite sides of a long table where you’re supposed to let your bags get inspected. There’s not much inside your backpack, so the guard quickly rifles through it while asking you questions he’s probably already been through too many times to count.

“Do you have any outside food or drink today, sir?”


“Have you packed any controlled substances including drugs or alcohol?”


“And are there any aphrodisiacs, mind altering substances, bindings or other rape aids anywhere in your belongings right now?”

“You know where I can get some? My lady and I thought we might try to make things special tonight.” The guard just gives you a look like he’s heard that joke a hundred times before. Geeze, some people have no sense of humor. “No.”

With that the surly guard nods, then steps back. There’s another guy with a dog making rounds around the table. Ivonne is closer to him, so he starts there. The dog, some kind of German Shepherd looking thing, noses at Ivy’s leg before hopping halfway onto the table, sniffing her purse and plopping back down. The dog and handler head around the table and inspect your backpack next. Your bag comes up just as clean as hers, only the dog doesn’t give you the time of day. Must be a canine thing.

“Clear. Have a nice day, sir.”

“You too.”

“Some security, huh?” You ask Ivy as you walk through the gate wrestling with every zipper on your bag.

“Better that than some weird elf brew in the wave p—oh my god, look at that lamia!”


Yeah, that was a trap if you ever heard one. Like hell something that simple was enough to get you caught staring at another woman on a date of all—goddamn! The snake in question didn’t have a ton of skin to show off, but every inch not covered by her tiny bikini was plastered in pleasure runes. Intricate purple tattoos seemed to coil around her body, up her chest and neck, down her arms and… whoa, she even had some on her face!

“Well that’s somethin’.”

“No kidding,” Ivy agrees while shuffling something around in her bag. “Have you ever thought of trying those?”

“How ‘bout you?”

“No way!”

“Right? I don’t know how she even gets through the day with all those, she’d probably cum if you just held her friggin’ hand.” Which explained why she was only holding her boyfriend’s finger, actually.


    Once you’re in the park you hop in line for lockers and one of those double innertube things then head for the dressing rooms. You never could get used to the netting in swim trunks so you didn’t just have them on underneath like you could’ve. Still, you were smart enough to pack them at the top of your bag for easy—huh? They weren’t there? You turn your backpack inside out looking for them but your swimming trunks are nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you checked like three times last night to make sure you didn’t forget those. Maybe you over prepared and left them out during the last check? The guard wouldn’t have any reason to steal your boring trunks, but maybe Ivy… naw. Well, looks like you’ll have to get a new pair.


    You walk out of the room still fully clothed to find Ivy waiting for you. She’s clad a simple one piece, blue with white diamond shapes on the side. It suits her, but it’s pretty plain. Still, you give her the required gentlemanly “you look nice” and then a lowdown on your bathing suit situation.

“Mmm, that’s too bad,” Ivy intones. “Gift shop?”

“Guess so. I hate payin’ those prices, but what ya gonna do?”


    The park’s store is full of overpriced candy, soda and crap with their name plastered all over it. You skip those and go right to the plain old swimming trunks. Your fox breaks away as soon as something catches her eye and heads to the opposite side of the shelf you want.

“Hey Marco, what size are you?”

“I dunno, a large should do it.”

“Hmm...” the kitsune nods and stares intently at something before finally grabbing whatever it is off of the rack and heading to the register. Okay, then. You turn your attention back to what’s in front of you. The swimsuits are all really loud, didn’t they have anything in solid colors without the park’s name written all over it? Oh, there we go. Just as you’re about to take your find to the register Ivy pops up in front of you with a bag in her hands.

“Here, I bought you something.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to. C’mon, put it on, put it on.” She nudges you into a changing room and closes the curtain behind you.


    It’s kinda cramped, but you suck it up and pull your new swimsuit out of the bag. It’s in a good color, a nice little lime green. That’s about all there is to it though. You do a doubletake once it’s in your hands, looking into the bag for a second piece or something. There isn’t one, just the green man-thong in your hands.

“I ain’t wearin’ this!” You call out through the curtains.

“But it’s a gift!” Ivy answers back.

“Don’t care, it ain’t happenin’.”

The fox pokes her head through the curtain and pouts.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to refuse a gift?”

“No, actually.”

“Well it is! How is it that you practically ignore your girlfriend for months and then when you finally ask her out on a date you’re mean to her? What kind of man does that?”


The two of you stare each other down. Ivy pouts harder. You keep your poker face, looking her dead in the eyes. The fox puffs her cheeks out. Poker face…

“Mmmmmmmm,” Ivy whines.

“Alright, geeze. Your mom was right, you are a brat.”

“Great!” Ivy’s face flashes into a smile so quickly you wonder for a second if she was ever frowning at all. You just got played hard.


    Both of your ass cheeks hang out, but at least the thong makes your junk look good. You step out of the changing room trying not to feel too self-conscious and praying you don’t get a boner. Ivy happily latches onto the arm not holding your bag of clothes as you head to the exit. Part way there something on a mannequin grabs your attention. It looks like someone tried to stretch a pair of panties into an entire swimsuit. It was one piece with just enough material to hide the crotch, then nothing but a string all the way up until the nipples where the fabric widened enough to cover the areola before shrinking back into a string. What did they call those? Slingshots?

“I should buy you a present,” you laugh pointing to the mannequin.

“Not on your life.”

“Just try it on. It can’t hurt, right?”

“No way,” Ivy says with a shake of her head.

You give her ass a light slap making her jump and brush her hair down so you can whisper in her ear.

“Just for a second?”

The kitsune looks from your face to the swimsuit, then back.

“Just for a second,” she says with flushed cheeks, “and I’m not wearing it outside, okay?”

“Alright, alright.”


You grab one in a green matching your thong that looks to be the fox’s size, sneakily ripping off the tag as you hand it to her.

“No peeking.”


“I mean it.”

“Me too.”

The kitsune eyes you suspiciously, but lets you follow her back to the changing room before closing the curtain in front of you. You stand outside like a perfectly well behaved gentleman until you see the blue one piece hit the floor. As soon as she steps out of it you dart your hand under the curtains and snatch it out before the girl inside has a chance to react. You’re half way to the register before she yells.

“Wait! What are you doing?!”

“I need to pay for this,” you smile to the cashier, pulling out a plastic bag of money and placing the tag on the counter.

He grins knowingly as he starts ringing. “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

“MARCO!” Ivy shouts with her head sticking out of the fitting room curtain.

“You know it. You have to deal with this a lot?”

The cashier shrugs. “Nope, my girlfriend’s a cyclops. I’ve got a lot of bad karma coming my way though. Sixty eighty two with tax.”



“Hey, I gave you a discount.” You grumble but slap the money down anyway. This is totally going to be worth it; you can see Ivy blushing from here.

“Why don’t you come get it?” You ask as you lean back against the counter. Ivy’s head pops back behind the curtain and few seconds of hurried activity later she erupts out of the room in the only other thing she had to wear: that green slingshot.


    She charges right for you and you mimic a bullfighter using her boring swimsuit as a cape as you dance away from her reaching hands.


“It’s hilarious!” Ivy misses another grab and almost bounces off the counter before catching herself.


“Speaking of assholes, guess what I can see!”

“YOU CAN NOT!” You couldn’t, but you also couldn’t help noticing that one of her tails was covering her butt now.

“Careful, miss,” the cashier butts in with a barely suppressed giggle, “you jump around in that too much and you’ll pop right out.” It’s not until then that Ivy seems to notice just how much movement her antics are causing. She sinks to the floor with an arm covering her chest and glares at you.

“I hate you so much right now.”

You shrug. “You’ll still love me later. C’mon, time’s-a-wastin’.”


    You tug the flustered kitsune out into the sun and shove your clothes and her old swimsuit into the locker you bought earlier. You hold off her last struggles by grabbing her forehead and letting her arms windmill in front of you while you lock the door and place the key securely around your wrist.

“I can’t believe you,” Ivonne grumbles once the locker and her fate is sealed.

”What? You’re the one that said you looked good naked.”

”I practically AM naked!”

”And ya practically look good. What’s the problem?”

“I only wanted to look good for you...”

“Aww. Nice try.”

The kitsune clicks her tongue. “Fine, let’s trade. I’ll give you your trunks back if you give my swimsuit back.”

“I thought you had somethin’ to do with those disappearin’, but no. I’m starting to like this thing.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“You forgotten what I used to do for a livin’?” You actually were kinda embarrassed, but you weren’t gonna let her know that. Not now. Besides, there wasn’t a chance you were going to miss this opportunity to screw with the fox. “So, wave pool or lazy river to start?”

“Lazy river, I guess. Give me the innertube.” You hand it to her and she wiggles into a position where she can cover her front and still see out of it. It’s kinda cute.

“Ya know, you don’t gotta try so hard to hide, you look good in that. You got a nice body, ya need to show it off a little.”

“The problem is that I’m only covering it a little.”

“Same thing.”


    The two of you bicker until you reach the steps of the river and Ivy climbs into the front seat. Somehow the lazy river always seems to be a better way to get a feel for things than a map. The two of you lazily drift around the park once or twice planning out where to go and in what order making sure the river earns its name. After that is several hours of lines punctuated by a few minutes of wet tails in your lap once you actually get to the slide and go screaming down. After a couple Ivy seems to forget that she’s basically naked. It probably helps that she’s not the only one by a long shot.


    Lunch time finally rolls around. It’s gotta be your treat and you aren’t looking forward to paying for the stupidly overpriced park food, but with a girl like Ivy hanging off your arm you can’t complain too much. The lines though, those you both willingly bitch about. The only positive is that the food is actually decent. Even a basic hotdog was pretty damn good. It was enough to make you want to go back for dessert, but not enough to make you want to get back in line. After seeing your kitsune’s ears perk up at the idea though you can’t not. You and your big mouth.


    Line. Line. Line. Food. Somehow you feel exhausted, but you still come back to the table you left Ivonne at, two ice cream cones (10% holstaurus milk, the sign said)  in hand. you stick both towards Ivy as you sit down.

“Alright, mint or strawberry?”

“Ice cream? Why didn’t you get funnel cakes or something?”

“‘Cause you didn’t tell me you wanted funnel cakes or somethin’. You lactose or what?”

“I’m not intolerant, it’s just… I’ll take the strawberry. Didn’t they have spoons?” The kitsune delicately plucks the cone from your hand and turns it as she asks the question.

“For cones? I dunno, they’d probably charge me five bucks for one anyway. Man, this is good!” It’s so rich, and creamy, and it tastes so fresh! Totally worth the dough they asked for!


    Ivy watches you devour half of your portion like she’s suspicious the food’s poisoned

before she finally takes a lick. She brings the ice cream so close to her mouth that her nose almost touches it. As soon as she touches it the fox’s eyes shine and those big fluffy ears of hers perk up again.

“This is amazing!” she exclaims before going after her cone so hard she makes you look like you were just playing with yours earlier.


Bit by bit the dessert disappears under long strokes from Ivy’s tongue. Really long strokes. Actually, how was she even licking that long in one—oh. Jesus Christ. Ivy’s tongue goes past her chin when she’s really into it. It’s like it just keeps going and going and... and she’s staring at you staring at her.

“Ah…” she gasps with wide eyes.

Nice going, Marco.


    The kitsune slowly pulls her tongue back into her mouth as you continue to stare, completely unable to look away. No one could miss the color rising to her cheeks. This was going to be another of those things she was sensitive about, wasn’t it? Big feet, big tongue, what next? Whatever, you need to reassure her, say something appropriate or whatever. You were on a time limit though, take too long and things would just be awkward no matter how smooth you were. C’mon Marco, say something! Clock’s ticking!



    God dammit. You realize that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words are out of your mouth. It’s impossible not to imagine Ivy slumping onto the table squealing in embarrassment or hauling off and slapping you so hard your teeth rattle. She doesn’t though. Instead her ears flatten against her head and she covers her mouth and looks away from you, still blushing.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Huh? That definitely wasn’t the right reaction.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I won’t be able to take it if you say anything about my big slobbery dog tongue… not from you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Naw, I meant what I said. Someone else tell you that though?”

“Mmm,” Ivy nods, looking you over with those eyes she uses when she thinks you’re bullshitting. “One of my exes right before we broke up. He got the entire basketball team to tease me for it.”

“What, was he gay or something?” A tongue like that was every straight man’s dream. Hell, even gay men would be all over that. Ivy’s expressions softens as she finally decides you weren’t lying.

“I doubt it, he married a holstaurus or something.”


“Maybe, why?”

“Jerk like that would have to be. What you got is nothin’ to hide so don’t worry about it.”

“Look, let’s just stop talking about it. You’re making me feel self-conscious.”


    She should really be over the whole self-conscious thing considering the swimsuit she’s wearing. Still, you can’t have her walking around all embarrassed for the rest of the day. You wordlessly pop the last of your cone into your mouth and swallow the rest as you stand up and walk around the table to sit next to Ivy. The kitsune scoots away as you move closer.

“What’re you doing?” she asks as you wrap an arm around her waist to stop her from sliding any farther away. You don’t answer, instead you lean in so your faces are almost touching.

“Wait a—Marco, there are people watching!” The fox places her hands on your chest as if to keep you back, but there’s no strength in her arms. Not enough to stop you from closing in and bringing your lips to hers.


“Mmm…” she sighs through her nose as you seal her lips with yours and pull her in closer. You gently part her lips with your tongue, but she’s so tense her teeth might as well be wired shut. This again? Fine. It’s not like your skills have faded any.


    You let yourself go wild in what you can reach of Ivy’s mouth, licking her teeth and running your teeth over her gums. With your free hand you reach up and grasp Ivy’s chin. If she relaxes just a little more you can… there. Your prodding gets Ivy to relax her jaw just enough for you to pull it down enough to get your tongue in. Tentatively, Ivy pokes you back. A little more… You run a circle over Ivy’s tongue with yours and that seems to do the trick; Ivy finally gets into it and before you know it your tongues are… not wrestling, her equipment is more than big enough to fill your mouth and pin your tongue, but they are dancing. And this time there are no toes you can step on.


    It’s a slow, tender thing. You could go on forever, but you are in public. Someone’s kid screaming in the distance reminds you both of that before you finally pull apart. Ivy’s still lost in the moment, staring at you with misty eyes. God, she really is beautiful. That aside, it looks like you did what you set out to do at the start. Mission accomplished.

“Still self-conscious?”

“Huh?” Ivonne blinks before what you just did registers. “That’s not fair.”“I don’t play fair. By the way, you taste like strawberry.”

The fox rolls her eyes before standing. “Whatever. Let’s go, I want to go down that fast slide again.”

“You bounce back fast.”

“Like I have a choice with you around. If you were any more unpredictable—”

“I’d somehow manage to be even more charmin’?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“You were thinkin’ it.”


The rest of the day flies by. You and Ivy have a blast at the park. Staying there so long leaves you with a pretty decent tan, you can’t help but smirk at the thought of how Ivy’s tanlines must look.


There’s a Chinese place downtown you like. Nothing too expensive but still pretty classy. You take Ivy there for dinner and have some good food, booze, and laughs. It’s a good time you don’t really want to end, so you’re more than happy to go along when she suggests going up to her place.


Most of the times you’ve been to Ivy’s pad were at night. The view was completely different from how it was now, the setting sun bathing the city in a soft red glow as the glowing orb sinks past the horizon. What would it be like to be able to see that every day?


    As you muse over the scenery Ivy finally comes out of the kitchen and hands you a glass of wine before standing next to you in front of the window.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks. “Not a bad way to end our first date.”

“This isn’t our first date. Remember that hole in the wall I dragged you to?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then what about that double date with your mom and Joyce?”

“That would imply they’re both lesbians and into incest, so no.”

“We went out for coffee a ton of times too.”

“Yeah, well, your heart wasn’t in those. This is the first one you actually cared about.”

“Aww. C’mere.” Ivy doesn’t resist at all as you wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer, instead she wraps her tails around you and embraces you in that way only she can. She smiles as she looks up at you.

“It’s warm, isn’t it?”



It wasn’t just the fur either, though that helped. Right now you were… really happy. Not booze happy or good work day happy either, but truly from the bottom of your heart happy. And there you went getting all sappy again. Christ.

“What’re you grinning about?”

Man, you were smiling like a dope. “You, I guess.”

You almost miss the hint of pink on her cheeks when the fox responds. “Geeze, do you ever stop sweet talking?”

“Does it count as sweet talking if it’s true?”

“That doesn’t mean anything from you.”

“How ‘bout I show you I mean it?”


She was asking for it, practically demanding that you kiss her. Did you really mind though? Nope. Ivy closes her eyes as you tilt her chin and lean in. Your lips touch slowly, gently.  There’s no tongue, no lust, just a tenderness that’s hard to express. It’s really less of a kiss and more of a caress. Even then it’s still enough to take your breath away and make Ivy sigh as you pull away.

“Believe me yet?”

“That’s the second time today you’ve used that trick, you know.”

“Yeah? They say the third time’s the charm.”

This time Ivy lifts herself up towards you as you come in, leaving you with a free hand to cradle the back of her head. The two of you meet again, pushing your lips just a little harder together this time. Ivy was pushing back. You can just barely make out the first embers of desire as you part again.


This is going to go beyond flirting and straight into sex in no time. An old part of you, part that you haven’t needed for months now, is screaming that it’s time to get the fuck out of Dodge before you get raped. The rest of you just wants to tease the fox a little more and see how long it takes her to snap. Normally that’d be asking for trouble, but with Ivy you’ve got this feeling that nothing can go wrong. Probably.


“Change your mind yet?”

“I’m still not sure I believe you. Try it again.”

“Now I don’t believe you . If ya wanna kiss me again why don’t you do the work this time? You’re not gonna get all lazy and make me do all the work, are ya?”

Uh-oh. The fox’s eyes take that predatory gleam of hers and her ears snap forward at an aggressive angle. She plucks your glass out of your hand and sets both on the floor.

“Lazy, huh? I can’t have that, now can I? Close your eyes for me, Marco.” Even as she speaks the kitsune straightens up and wraps her body around you.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like—”

“Oh, just shut up.” Before you even come up with anything smart to say one of the hands she had wrapped around your waist snaps up to cover your eyes while the rest of her lifts up to your mouth. Your lips are slightly open from surprise, and Ivonne takes full advantage of the opening to dart her tongue past your teeth. You almost bite her when she leans into you and makes you stumble back.


Her tongue above, her weight below. Ivy keeps up the onslaught, keeping you off balance and pushing you back until she pulls away right as the back of your knee hits the couch and you go tumbling down. Ivy plops on top of you, straddling your lap as soon as your ass hits the cushion.


Whoa! she’s getting a little too into it so as soon as you get your bearings back you reach up to stroke both of those fluffy ears. The girl seemingly intent on raping your mouth with her massive tongue giggles and backs off enough for you to breathe. Thank god that still works.

Somehow doing the same old thing with a different intent makes it feel different. When you run your fingers through her hair it’s not because you’ve got a job to do, it’s because you love the feel of it in your hands. You still run your fingers down her arms, but it’s not because you know it tickles her in just the right way, it’s because the feel of her skin was soothing. And those tails… she’d never needed to pay you to stroke those in the first place. Each one was like warm silk, all competing to wrap themselves around your hand as you squeeze them.


“It’s strange, isn’t it?” The fox asks while nuzzling your neck. “Doing this feels so much different when I know I don’t need to worry about a timer going off or you bringing up some rule about what I’m doing.” With a sigh the girl on top of you sits up to start undoing your shirt.

“Yeah, I like it. I should warn ya though, if we go all the way you won’t be a five-tailed fox anymore.”

”I won’t?” She stops halfway through undoing a button to tilt her head and look at you.

”Naw, you’ll be a five-tailed cougar.”

“Oh no,” she intones. “If I’m going to lose my status as a noble and proud kitsune I hope the experience will be worth it.”

“It will be. Tonight I’m gonna let you do anythin’ ya want.”

“Aaaaanything?” Wrong thing to say; Ivy’s looks  like a wolf staring down a cornered rabbit again as she grabs your wrist and pulls you off the couch.

“Wait, when I said anything I didn’t mean—”

“Too late loverboy, you said it.”


Yeah you did. It occurs to you that it’s been a little over a year since you met Ivy. That’s a year of whatever the chick equivalent of blue balls is with you feeling her up all the time on top of it. Right now it’s not a kitsune pulling you into its bedroom, it’s a lit stick of sexual dynamite.

God have mercy on your dick.



    You fall onto the comforter to a cacophony of creaking springs when Ivy throws you onto the bed. There’s no time to twist yourself so your legs aren’t dangling over the side of the bed before she’s straddling your lap and shoving her tongue into your mouth again. Christ, the woman’s hungry. No, thirsty would be the better word. Thirsty like a girl lost in the desert. Judging by the way she’s grinding her hips into you she’s still probably plenty wet though.


    You’re rutting, like animals. Why shouldn’t you? It seems Ivy’s dropped any pretense of maintaining her usual air, happily and noisily slurping your tongue as the two of them dance in the ballroom your locked lips form. Ivy keeps every inch of herself she can in contact with you, so getting the buttons on her shirt loose is a pain in the ass. You’ve seen her naked before though, you know those perky little breasts inside are more than worth the effort. And this time they’re yours.


    More of that heat flows off of her body with each button you loosen and you know she can feel it too. One button, two. Each one is a rush, each inch of loosened fabric a step closer to your pillowy goal, another moan in your mouth. She’s been waiting for this. So have you. You’d think her blouse caught fire the way she rips it off as soon as that last button slides loose, and just as soon as it’s off she’s back on top of you, tongue dancing with yours and hands roaming your chest.


    She’s there again before you take off her bra though. You were looking forward to that, but naked tits are naked tits even if you don’t get to savor unwrapping them. A twist of your wrist and the fabric falls away leaving nothing but the smooth warmth of Ivonne’s back to explore. The feeling is a subtle one, soft and tender. Not something that can be done quickly, but something to be done while you trace every contour. As your hands roam Ivy’s back, her moans turn into something closer to a giggle and your tongues slow from a manic breakdance to a calming waltz. Hmm, you’d have to remember that trick for later. In the meantime there’s a lot more of Ivy’s body exposed and goddamn if you aren’t going to touch all of it.


    She’s ready to let you, too. You were expecting the fox to squeal and pull away when you reach down her shorts to grab her ass, but she moans into your mouth and pushes into them instead. Yeah, you could get used to this.


     It goes without saying that the well-tended skin under your fingers is smooth and soft, but the texture is something else. A thin layer of fat coversan underlying firmness just begging you to smack it and see what would happen. It's too bad you wouldn’t be able to see, but whatever workout Ivy does sure as hell works for her.


     And the heat… You’re reminded of that last time you got this handsy in the shower. Hadn’t it been warmer than it should’ve then, too? It wasn’t like you minded; the idea of Ivonne almost literally burning up for you was kinda hot. And when you put it in… you got shivers up your spine just thinking about it.


    More. You need to feel all of her. You slide a second hand past her waistband to grope that perfect globe of an ass you were going to tear up later. As a dreamy afterthought, you raise your knee and slip your leg between her thighs. All you really want is to feel more of the fox’s flesh, but the second you touch her womanhood you feel her breath catch before she grinds into you like she wants to break your leg. Hot. Fucking. Damn.


     Alright, enough screwing around. It pains you to do it, but you pull a hand away from Ivy’s glorious butt to make a grab for the one button keeping you from paradise. You’d thought she was lost in your lips, but as soon as you try to open the path to the holy land her hand snaps down to catch yours.

“Ah ah ah,” she giggles. “Ladies first.”

“I was workin’ on that, you were too busy kissin’ to do anythin’ else.”

“There were other places I wanted to kiss.”

“Huh?” Oh. There must’ve been so much blood rushing to your cock you couldn’t think clearly about the things you could do with it. Weird. Still, her looking at you with those eyes like she was giving you a gift kind of pissed you off. Whatever, you had a way to knock her down a peg.


     The fox kisses her way from your chin down your chest, past your belly button. It’s a slow progression and you can tell she’s enjoying the journey as much as you are. After an eternity of slow kisses and licks she reaches your waist and reaches to your belt, her face inches away from you, every puff of her hot breath teasing your stomach. She fumbles with the buckle. And fumbles. And fumbles.


     You hadn’t needed it for a good while, but you’re still wearing your belt. The belt. The one with the locking clasp and zipper slot, the one made out of steel, kevlar and titanium. The one with a combo lock. Old habits die hard and the thing looked friggin’ cool, after all.


     Ivy tugs at it, then scratches at the buckle like she’s looking for a hidden button or something. There isn’t one. You can’t help but smirk at the frown on your girlfriend’s face as she sits up on top of you and glares at the offending clasp.

“Havin’ fun?” She doesn’t respond, just nods to herself. Her eyes light up with a magical light, and the path her right finger traces in the air glows. Ivy holds that same hand up and snaps, when she does there’s a tight blue cone of flame erupting from the tip of her finger. Suddenly you realize that she’s planning to burn through your belt with that thing and it both looks and sounds WAY too much like a blowtorch for you to let it anywhere near your junk. You deftly catch her arm before she has a chance to move it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not do that.”

“Then. Take. It. Off.” Each word is a knife.

“Alright, alright, just quit it with the welder act already.” The flame disappears like it was never there and you let go of the fox. There’s still a tension radiating from her body though, and you can’t help but take one last shot.

“Hey Ivy?”


“Say please.”


If looks could kill the kitsune would’ve just slaughtered your grandchildren. Yeesh.


“Okay, okay, I’m takin’ it off.” Getting the combination dialed in was more than a little difficult with the pressure Ivy’s stare puts on you, but you manage. As soon as you do she’s there, undoing the button and yanking down on the fabric so hard you slide on the bed. She grabs your boxers at the same, so the last of your clothes came off in one movement.


     You lay there naked, basking in the heat of the moment and the red glow of the setting sun through the window, bare for all eyes to see. In Ivy’s position you would take the chance to drink in your lover’s body with your eyes. Not Ivy though, she has a goal in mind and her eyes don’t waver from it for a second: your hard throbbing cock. She sinks down slowly until she’s on her side between your legs, her nose even with your shaft. Instead of going straight for the prize though, the fox buries her nose in your pubes and sniffs.

“Cut that out, it tickles!”

That pent up aggression flows out of her body with each whiff which is probably great for your pelvis, but the way she’s smelling you almost makes you want to start giggling. You reach down to push Ivy’s head away, but she blocks it and you arm wrestle until you finally give up and let your hands flop to the bed, fingers intertwined.

“Mmm, Marco’s scent,” Ivy sighs between sniffs. “I could get addicted to this.”

“Yeah, just don’t overdose.”

The fox looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a knowing smile, most of that wild lust from before calmed now that she has her hands on what she wanted.

“Should I clean you up a little so I don’t?”


    Man that line was terrible. You couldn’t have come up with anything worse if you were trying to write a porno script yourself. Still, Ivy isn’t used to talking dirty so it was kinda cute. What isn’t cute was watching that thick tongue of hers reach out to lick the dribble of pre flowing down your shaft; that just made you twitch again.

“Oh?” She coos, “You like that?”

You nod. Like you need to; any man that doesn’t like the feeling of a beautiful woman’s tongue on his dick is well on his way to becoming an alp.


    A long lap of her tongue bathed you in wet heat. Then there’s another and another until your cock glistens from her efforts. She keeps going almost teasingly until you unsubtlely try to guide yourself into her mouth. The fox smacks your hand away and pulls back to reward your efforts.

“C’mon,” you whine, “that ain’t a Tootsie Pop.”

“What, I calm down like you wanted me too and now you’re impatient?”

“I didn’t want ya this calm. You havin’ fun down there or somethin’? Quit playin’ around already.”

“You looked like you were too.” Too? “But if you want to cut things short…”

“I ain’t cuttin’ nothin’ short.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ivy grins. “You can cum whenever you want.”


    Yeah, whatever. It wasn’t like you’d never gotten a blowjob bef—hooooooly shit, if that was a blowjob you’d definitely never gotten one before! No one else even had the equipment.


    No, the way she reaches out with her tongue and wraps it all the way around your shaft until her tongue was touching itself is uniquely her. There’s no suction, but the pressure and the simple knowledge that you’re about to fuck her tongue is enough to make up for it.


    Your breath catches as Ivy moves her body so she can look up at you, her tongue swivelling over the tip of your dick as she slides over your thigh. Her mouth is busy but you can still see her eyes smiling at your reaction as she goes to work. It’s a small miracle that her neck doesn’t cramp as she worked that fleshy pink bulb up and down your shaft. She takes special care to squeeze tighter as she moves up past the bottom of your head and to go loose while stroking down past it, not increasing the pressure again until she was well past the sensitive bits. She drives you nuts loving your penis with her mouth but not straight milking you like you want her to. Still you can’t help but approach the edge as that wet bumpy tightness slithers all over your rod.


     It’s all you can do to stop your hips from bucking up into her jaw, you sure as hell aren’t going to be able to hold back your impending orgasm. The kitsune bobbing in your lap senses you’re near but doesn’t speed up or slow down. Instead she continues at that same steady pace until you’re a few strokes from bursting all over her face. Finally, she lifts her head to take you into her mouth. She takes you all the way to the back of her throat in one movement and this different sensation combined with the fact that Ivy is now sucking you like here last name is Hoover knocks you right over the edge.

“Fuck!” you groan and wrap your fingers into Ivonne’s hair as the pleasure racks your body, sending ropes of semen into her mouth. The bed creaks, your legs shake, the world goes white. There’s nothing else but you and the pillowy lips sucking the last drops of seed out of your member.


     You collapse onto the bed as Ivy finishes cleaning you and gulping down the remnants of your cum.

“Told you that’d be fast,” she says as she lays down on her side next to you.

“That wasn’t fast.”

“Says you.” The kitsune smiles at your frown as she reaches down to stroke your half-masted penis. “What’s not fast is you getting it back up. Come on, you’re going to do that inside me at least two more times.”

“Two? Is that all the night’s got in store?”

“I said at least. The question isn’t what the night’s got in store though, it’s what these balls have in store; after all you put me through I am going to empty them. Oh, there it is. Ready for round two, lover?”

“You bet that sweet ass I am. C’mere!” You move to get on top of Ivy, but before you’re halfway through the motion she knocks you flat on your back and straddles your waist instead. She scolds you.

“Ah ah ah, it’s still my turn.”

“When’s mine?”

“I guess we’ll see.”


    Yeah, that cocksure attitude was totally Ivy. You’re stuck on her ride now, but you’re not sure you want to get off. Not off the ride anyway, you totally want to get off, and you’re pretty sure she’s gonna let you. Before that though, you’ve gotta get her out of those pants. This time Ivy doesn’t knock you away as you reach for the button. She moans as you loosen the catch and grinds her hips into your hand as you slowly tug down the zipper. It’s not like she can feel anything from that, but if she was trying to get you hot and bothered it was working.


     You hook your thumbs into just the waistband of her shorts instead of going into her panties and pulling everything off at once. You’re going to savor this. Ivy seems to have the same idea and slowly gyrates her hips to help you pull them off her waist. Her eyes never leave your face as she slowly brings each leg up to pull them through those short shorts. The amount of skin you’d felt earlier told you for a fact the kitsune was wearing a thong, but you still wanted to know just how daring she’d gotten. The last piece of clothing covering Ivy was a blonde yellow triangle with another white patch with one saw-like pattern on the top edge closer to her vag. It looked really familiar. Wait…

“Are those the panties your mom gave you?”

Ivonne looks at you, then down, then back to you with color rising to her cheeks. Jesus Christ, that expression!


    Don’t laugh. Whatever you do you can. Not. Laugh. Wordlessly you roll onto your side beneath Ivy, shoulders shaking in time to a sound you refuse to let out. That doesn’t count. You’re on your side with your entire body spasming like you just heard the best joke of your life, but as long as you don’t make any noise it technically doesn’t—


“T-they were cute, okay?! Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” you had to stop talking while you interrupted yourself with another fit of giggles—“your mom gave you a thong, and you actually wore it! Are you like twelve or somethin’? Oh god, I can’t breathe! ”

“I forgot she gave these to me, okay?!” The expression of embarrassment and anger on Ivy’s face as she hurriedly stripped out of the offending fabric is delicious. “Just cut it out or you’ll go soft!”

That’s what you’re worryin’ about right now?”

“Yes! I mean no! I mean—give it a rest already!”


    You can handle this. All you have to do is ignore the fact that a sixty-something year old woman is still wearing underwear her mom got her and you can kill this giggling fit of yours. Just ignore it. Forget all about it. Trying not to think about it just makes the idea that much funnier. Luckily your aching sides and the joke getting old finally manage to kill your convulsions.

“Okay, I’m good,” you tell Ivy with your breath finally coming back.

“No you’re not,” she pouts, dejectedly lifting your flaccid penis as you wiggle onto your back again, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Why don’t ya blow it and make a balloon animal?”


     The only response you get is a headshake as the fox slides down farther onto your waist and leans into your neck. For a second there it looks she’s going to try and kiss you right after she sucked you off, but luckily she bends all the way down to your nape instead. You tense as she takes your skin into her teeth and nibbles on it, bringing your shoulder up reflexively to knock her away before relaxing into her touch. Teeth trace the curve of your throat, nipping and licking at places you’d never let anyone else touch. Your hands do the same, exploring the curve of Ivy’s ass and sinking into the impossibly soft warmth of her tails, rolling each one between your fingers as the fox sighs into your neck.


     Ivy kisses a path across your neck to your ear leaving a cool trail of saliva on your burning skin. Your fingers twitch deeper into the taut meat of your lover’s ass when her lips find your earlobe. That really does feel good, you can see why she likes it when you play with her ears so much. Not to be outdone, you slide your hands in a twisting path from Ivonne’s butt up to her shoulder blades, then down towards her breasts. She’s laying on your chest, but as soon as she knows what you’re doing Ivy lifts herself on her elbows to give you access. Her nipples are already hard by the time you find them, ripe to be tugged, squeezed and twisted by the man that wants her more than anything in the world. You don’t hold back.


     The heat between you builds. You aren’t doing anything fancy and neither is she, but it feels so right that doesn’t matter. You find each other’s rhythm without even thinking about it, and this is just foreplay. Your once again rock hard boner twitching between your legs is a reminder that it was time to get down to business. Ivy notices it about the same time you do but feels like teasing a little more first. Gripping the base of your shaft and without taking her lips from your ear for a moment, she rubs the sopping wet lips of her pussy against your rod, grinding your penis and your restraint. Wet warmth soaks through your skin straight into your mind like wine into a dry sponge. You want Ivy. You want her now. She knows.


     Before you can say anything the kitsune lifts her body and shifts back so her entrance is just touching the tip of your cock. The moment of truth had arrived. Ivy looked down on you, smiling warmly, but she hesitated.

“Marco?” Doubt pierces the lust in her voice like you want to pierce her. “Do you love me?”

“Do I need to say it?” And do you really need to do this now?

“I want you to.”


     The L word. A heavy word. You didn’t want to use it before. You were afraid, unsure. You aren’t any more though; the feeling in your heart and the tightness in your chest every time you looked at her is a testament to that. You prop yourself up on one arm and bring the other to Ivy’s head, raking your fingers through her hair before they come to rest on her cheek. Gently, you bring your heads together until your foreheads bump and your noses touch. You’re dragging out the moment a bit, but it’ll be one to remember so it’s worth it. You tilt your chin and take one quick peck at the kitsune’s lips before you say the words she wants to hear. The ones you feel from the bottom of your soul.

“I love you.”


    It’d been so simple to say once you were sure you meant it, once you really knew you meant it. Even with your hard head you’d expected that. What you didn’t expect was how it’d make you feel. Just uttering that one, tired phrase left you… fulfilled. You could hear the happiness in Ivy’s voice as she spoke next.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”


“I love you.”

“I love you too.” The kitsune giggles, and slowly pulls back.


    Loving eyes lock onto yours as she readjusts her hips and in one slow motion takes you to the hilt inch by excruciating inch. Every part of her is yours. Every part of you is hers. That fact sinks in farther as Ivy finishes taking you in and rests on your hips, each of you savoring the feeling of the other.


     Your lover is goddamn tight. It feels like she’d push you right back out without her entire body weight on top of you. Even then she’s so wet you know you won’t have any issues thrusting to your heart’s content. With a vulva as puffy as hers you don’t have to worry about mashing anything either. Still, going wild on her’d be sending mixed messages after you went to the trouble of calming her down, so instead of moving at all you just lay there to savor her heat and every little twitch of her vagina around you.


     Once she’s adjusted to being one with you Ivy begins to grind her hips against your crotch. It doesn’t feel like much to you, but every rotation grinds her clit into you and you can see the pleasure flash across her face. She’s being selfish, but you decide to let her so you reach up and play with those perky breasts of hers in all the ways that drive her nuts. The fox’s panting turns into gasps that turn into moans as she slathers herself over you and you roam her body with your hands.


     She’s pushing herself closer and you let her, still firmly in control since the way she’s moving only pushes her buttons. You let her get maybe ¾ of the way to orgasming before moving your hands down to cradle her ass and pushing up. Ivy gets the point pretty quickly and slowly raises her hips. Her movement is slow and shaky, she must already be getting weak in the knees. Still, she lifts herself until you wonder if you’re going to slide out, then falls back down. Oh fuck! Your head sags back into the pillow as she crashes down onto you. Up she goes, again and again, rocking you with waves of heat and pleasure and making the bed creak every time she comes down. You’re really starting to feel it when the fox’s movements start getting shorter. She only goes halfway up your shaft before coming back down and her individual moans melt into a single continuous one as she thrashes on your cock.

“Oh god! Yes, yes!” Ivy screams before sliding all the way down your cock one last time and collapsing into your chest.


    Trails of femcum dribble down your sack as Ivy languishes against you with your member still balls deep inside of her. She looks up at you with a dopey smile and heavy-lidded eyes.

“That was amazing.”

“Was?” Her eyes widen as you thrust into her from below.

“Hang on a second, I just c—ah!”

“Hang on? You wanted me to cum twice inside ya, right? At least? We’re never gonna get there if ya spend all night on your face.”

You don’t give the fox a moment to think, sliding your cock into her like a slow piston.

“Wait Mmmmarco, that’s too g- oh god…” Ivy tries to protest one last time before you paint the inside of her head white and the only sounds she can make are groans and sighs of contentment. Desperate for something to grab onto Ivy wraps her arms around your back. Her nails dig into your skin but you don’t give even half a fuck because you’re busy trying to plant all of your fucks inside of her.


    You find a good grip on Ivy’s waist and let your mind go. All you have to do is watch your pace and feel. It’s hard to keep yourself from humping your lover like a rabbit, but the slower gentler feeling of what you do instead draws out your time that much longer. More time to bathe in that glorious tightness, more time to feel Ivy’s nails scratching at your back, more time to feel the cum boiling inside your balls.


    When your orgasm finally does come, it’s explosive. You blew a huge load in Ivy’s mouth earlier, but that’s nothing in comparison to what you unleash inside of her. It just doesn’t seem to stop, and the twitching of your cock as you spew your seed inside of her seems to knock Ivy over the edge too. Even as the rest of her body shakes on top of you, she twitches in time to your cock and the two of you stretch each other’s orgasms out as long as you possibly can.


    Once you float back down to Earth enough to notice the weight on top of you you nudge Ivy off your chest and onto the bed. The two of you lie there for the longest time just staring at each other and catching your breath. You’re the first to break the silence, mirroring Ivy’s stupid smile from earlier.

“Now that was amazing.”

“Yeah it was, you jerk.”


    You ruffle Ivy’s hair and pull her into your shoulder, reaching down to play with the tip of one tail once she’s in place. She follows suit by scooting in closer to you and draping one leg over yours. You revel in the comfort of the moment, just starting to doze off when your lover nudges you.

“Hey. Ready for round three?”

“Already? You gotta give some recovery time here, you just squeezed two out of me.”

“Aww c’mon,” Ivy playfully whines, “I know you’ve got more in you.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

The fox draws a slow circle on your chest with her finger. “Because I believe in you.” Yeah, whatever. “And because I can do this.”


    Somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind a flip is switched. Like every bit of lust you’d ever restrained before was suddenly released your cock hardened and logic blasted away. The thought ‘I want Ivy’ didn’t register in your mind, you just took her. You’d felt this wild lust before when you went to visit Ivy’s mom, only this is a hundred times stronger and this time you’re not about to waste it on a paper cup.


    She lets out a surprised yelp as you flip her onto her chest but doesn’t offer any resistance at all as you angle her hips to accept you. With her cunt as lubed with her own love juices and your semen as it is you manage to slam your cock all the way in to the base without even trying. The kitsune gasps, but you ignore her completely, wrapping one arm around her waist for leverage as you pound into her and taking three tails in your free hand to rub them against your face.


    The sound of your flesh slapping together fills the room, but your mind is filled with Ivy’s sex and the animalistic scent of her sweat wafting from her hair.

“You’re such a brute!” Ivy moans. Funny words from the one bucking back to meet you. Still, her matching your thrusts frees up the hand you’ve been using to grip her waist. You use it to land a solid smack on her ass. Ivy squeaks, but she somehow manages to tighten up even farther around you. You do it again and again, and she goes crazy beneath you. Gone is that tender slowness you both tried to bring earlier, you’re fucking like animals now and both of you love it.


     Another orgasm creeps from the bottom of your balls, up your shaft and explodes into Ivy’s waiting vag. You don’t stop moving as you shoot spurt after spurt of your white essence inside of her, grunting with every twitch, every blast of heat filling her womb.


    You sag back onto your heels after the moment passes. Ivy flops forward and your still stiff penis bobs in the air above her. She rolls onto her back and smiles at you.

“You met your quota. Good job.”

You eye her snatch and spread her legs again, already looking for the next position you’re going to use. You grunt as you line yourself up and plunge into Ivonne’s depths again.

“Ta hell with quotas.”

“No~” She coos mockingly before locking her ankles around your hips. It’s going to be a long night.


“Mmm.” Yes, excellent.

You sit in a quiet restaurant drinking browned rice tea as you flip through the latest issue of “Confucius Monthly,” in which Confucius say how to make many moneys and reed happy famiry. The ideas are interesting, and you stroke your long beard—now white, once the brown of a healthy paddie—as you consider them. You put down the riceflower print cup and help yourself to another rice cake in-between page flips, the serenity of your mind enough to block out the noise of even the bustling restaurant. That is, until someone speaks to you.

“You. You are Marco-ssem?”


    You look up to see a woman who, inconveniently enough,  is not that slow as hell waitress standing next to your table. She’s a petite thing with hay yellow hair and modest curves. You can see from the thigh showing through her high-slit dress that she is powerful, but what really sticks out are the five marvelous tails fluttering behind her like cherry blossoms in a spring breeze.

“Yes, I am he,” you nod, waiting several seconds after you stop talking for your lips to stay still long enough to take another sip of tea. “Do I know you, perhaps?”

“You do not! I am Ivonne of the Kumho clan, and I have come to show to you that your Kung Fu is weak!”

Oh, to be young again. “Now now, Ivonne-ssi. have a seat and join me for tea. Surely you cannot wish to fight with an old man.”


     You wait for your lips to stop moving again before taking another bite of rice cake, but when you reach for your tea cup to wash it down the girl kicks it upward, knocking the liquid inside into the air in a near perfect sphere. In a stunning display of prowess she catches the cup on her toe, then dips beneath the falling tea to catch all of it without spilling a drop. Equally stunning, she leaves her foot, with the cup balanced on top of it, hanging in the air after she’s done. You can’t help but notice that you can see her underwear—or rather you would be able to if she was wearing any—but instead take the gentlemanly route and clap before reaching for the teapot and a fresh cup.

“Magnificent skill, young one. I must advise you, however, that it is exceedingly unwise to fool with an old man’s tea.”


    The fox smirks, then whips her foot in a tight circle, breaking the cup where it stands and splattering warm liquid all over your face. And your beard! The nerve of this one! Very well then, if she wishes so badly to be shown a lesson you would be more than happy to give her one! You whip your magnificent manbeard over your shoulder before flipping the table as you stand. The clattering of Glorious Chinese China and silverware attracts the attention of many guests. Upon seeing what’s going to happen and who’s involved there’s a small stampede towards the door until the restaurant is empty.

“To reward your impudence I shall show you my Kung Fu!” You yell as you take your stance. You spread your legs, grab your crotch with one hand and place the other behind your head. For bonus effect you thrust your hips forward twice.

“Path of the Grumpy Cuddleslut!” You proclaim. ”Ascending Mountain Whore Stance!”

“Fascinating.” The fox’s style is much simpler; she simply slides one leg behind her, crouches forward with her fists under her chin then wraps her tails around her torso. You can’t see her hands at all.

“Way of the Fluffy Fist: Million Ghostly Strikes.”


    That’s all the kitsune says before charging forward. She dances between your blows as you swing your fists but still keep your crotch and face well protected. Her hands are perfectly hidden by her fluff, every opening she sees is the target of another punch from angles you can’t seem to predict even with your mastery of all that is grumpy and cuddly. You’re pushed back several tables before she slides past you, elbows you face first into a wall and unleashes a flurry of kicks into your back.


You try to push yourself away, but every kick knocks you back against the barrier, leaving you helpless to block or evade until she launches her final attack: one especially hard blow right into your kidney.


     You wake with a start, staring into the darkness of the unfamiliar room until you remember where you are. Ivy’s place. When you listen you can hear her breathing behind you, tired from the hours of love both of you made. Well that was a weird dream.


     You decide to forget it and go back to sleep when something slams into your spine. What the hell?! You roll over to see Ivy squirming in her sleep. Her arms and legs twitch in time with each other, like she’s running on all fours. Her too, huh? Whatever. You wiggle farther away and reach for a pillow when another kick hits you in the shin. Dammit! You smack your lover with your pillow before spooning behind her so she can’t get the momentum for a good blow going. She whimpers, but soon drapes a tail or two over you and drifts off into a more peaceful sleep. You don’t mind following her at all.


     You wake the next morning to the sound of your phone alarm going off. With a grumble you grab for the damn thing, only to realize that you’re not at home and it’s in your pants on the other side of the room. The bed springs creak as you move to turn it off and your kitsune stirs at the sound, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sits up to look at you.

“What’re you doing?”

“I gotta go to work.”

“Work? But it’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, well that doesn’t mean much to those of us that ain’t prematurely retired.”

“Mmm. You have to go now?”

“I’m gonna be late ‘cause I’ve gotta go home and change anyway, but yeah.”

“No you don’t.” Ivy grabs a sheet to cover her nakedness, then walks next to your spot by her dresser to open up one of the lower drawers. There a bunch of men’s clothes inside. They look your size. A pair of slacks, a button down shirt and a change of underwear fly your way as Ivonne snatches them out.

“Why do you—”

“I didn’t want to bother returning  the stuff we got,” the kitsune explains. Oh right, the shopping trip. “Let me get you a toothbrush.”


     A moment later she comes back with a pasted brush for you and a bathrobe for herself. You hop in the shower, making an easy time of cleaning up with her assortment of soaps and grooming tools. You come back out clean, refreshed and looking pretty sharp. The girl had a good sense of fashion and seems to know it; she nods in approval as you fold your dirty clothes into a bag Ivy set out for you a thought strikes your mind.

“I already have a drawer, huh?”

Color rises to your lover’s cheeks as she answers. “And a spot in the closet. And some space on my shoe rack…”

“You do way too much shopping.”

“I’m a woman. Do you… want to keep it though? The drawer, I mean.”

A warm smile spreads across your lips as you watch the fox fidget under your gaze. “Yeah. I ‘d like that.”

“Great! I mean... you should get going then!”

“Yeah, prob—”

“Hang on a second.” The fox pulls the tie holding her robe shut and slips out of it as she approaches you.

“Hey we don’t have time for another r—” your complaint is cut off when Ivy shoves you back onto the bed.


     In a motion that looks like a stock footage replay of the night before Ivy’s on top of you in a flash. Instead of violating your mouth though the kitsune leans in to rub her cheek against yours. What? While you’re still trying to figure out what the hell she’s doing she moves to your other side, then rubs her bare chest against against yours. Before you get a chance to squirm or whine too much she settles down with her head against your chest, wraps her arms around you sighs.

“The hell was that?”

“I was marking you. You’re mine and I want everyone to know.” Oh, that again.

“Great, can I go now that ya wrinkled my shirt?”

“You did a crappy job ironing anyway. Just… sit still and let me listen to your heartbeat for a second.” The clock’s tickin’ but somehow when she says it like that you can’t refuse.

“Guess I’d better mark you too then, huh?”


    Ivy raises an eyebrow until you reach down with both hands and start stroking her tails. She nuzzles into your chest as you continue, lovingly running each one through your hands over and over again. She’s gotten really good at letting you do this to her; there’s no tension in her at all and each one flows through your hand like padded silk. She loves the attention, but her fur is so soft and warm it probably feels as good for you as it does for her. The fox’s breathing slows as you work your magic and she drifts off right when you’re really starting to get nervous about time.


     You do your best not to wake her as you slip from beneath her, but she stirs as you finish anyway. You nudge her back down when she tries to sit.

“Nah, don’t ruin the moment. I’ll let myself out.”

“Mmm…” the kitsune grumbles, half awake, “‘ave a good day.”

“You too,” you smile before kissing her on the forehead and looking around to find the comforter.

“Coffee and a muffin on the counter…”

“Alright.” You toss the blanket over your lover and nod to yourself as she burrows under it.


    In the kitchen a piping hot carafe of coffee sits next to an empty thermos and a blueberry muffin. You fill the container, grab the muffin and head for the door before stopping. It’s not like you’re sneaking out without saying goodbye or anything, but leaving like this doesn’t feel right somehow. You decide to dig up a pen and some paper to leave a note, but once you’ve found both you realize you don’t even know what to say. With a shrug you settle on something generic.

“Thanks for the nice lovely evening. -Marco” Yeah, that’s still missing something… Oh! “P.S.: Heads up, I am gonna have to tell your mom you actually wore that G-string.” Just imaging the look on her face when she reads that makes you grin. With that done you leave the note on the table and quietly slip out of the door.


Today is going to be the best day you’ve had in a long time.


    Another day, another dollar. Maybe quite a few of them to come if that company performance report from the last quarter of 2019 is anything to go by. You whistle tunelessly as you drive past an unfamiliar car to pull into your driveway. So she made it after all, huh? Your engine purrs to a stop as you remove the key and reach for your briefcase. You don’t need it most of the time, more than anything it’s a big metal lunch box, but damn does having it make you feel important. It’s hard to say that you aren’t kinda important with twenty or so people counting on you to help make sure they get paid, but you aren’t briefcase important.


    Everything is already in your case; the rattle of tupperware says as much. Your ride beeps happily as you walk away, just like a car built since they started making remotes for cars should. You briefly wondered what your old hunk is up to these days as you walk through the garden to put your key in the door. Rusting probably; it’d been worth more as parts when you got rid of it. You had to give it credit though, it’d managed to run forever. Mostly. Sometimes. You still hope it’s happy in that big junkyard in the sky.


    Your approach doesn’t go unnoticed. The sound of claws scratching at tile, the usual slipping noise of that runner around the corner that you really need to tape down one of these days and one loud “DADDY!” announced the approach of your usual greeters. That also means you have about five seconds to lock the door and free your hands up before—crap. A mass of fur with two tails, six legs, an arm necklace and more enthusiasm than any one creature could hope to hold skids around the corner, paws skittering for grip. It’s moving fast. TOO FAST!


    In a separation only NASA could coordinate the figure breaks in two as disaster approaches. Suddenly there’s a gigantic Malamute barrelling toward you and an equally excited kit trailing behind it. Great, now you were going to get hit twice. Two paws with about ninety pounds of weight travelling at the speed of dog behind them land on your shoulders and lovingly slam your back against the door.

“Down, Mil—oof” You struggle to bat away the scrabbling paws and drooling tongue before Olivia slams into your side. You’re not even close.


“Hey, beautif—stop licking! Bad dog!” You’d had your mouth open and everything!

You grab Milo by the muzzle and remind him how many legs dogs are supposed to stand on before crouching to deal with the tiny kitsune bouncing up and down at your waist.


    Someone once said you and Ivy would make adorable kids. They were right. Little Olivia has Ivy’s eyes and perfect hair—even though it’s done into a single pigtail for whatever reason—and your mouth. She’s a bundle of energy, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed—literally, as one would expect of the kitsune daughter of a beauty supply store manager—even in the middle of the night. Especially right before bedtime. She hugs your neck as you wrap your arm around her legs and reach for your briefcase so she’s sitting on your arm once you stand.

“I missed you daddy!” she says right in your ear with that inside voice kids use that comes dangerously close to a scream.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Woof!” Milo agrees.

“So, what happened at school?”

“We finger painted!”


“Uh-huh! And this time I did it without getting any on me OR using my tail as a brush because the teacher told me it’s called ‘finger painting’ and not ‘tail painting.’”

“Good.” Seriously, that ‘washable’ paint was still a bitch and a half to get out all the way.

“I don’t get it though, no one cares when Melany paints with HER tail.”

“She’s a lizardman, sweetheart.” Her painting with her tail probably meant fewer claw marks on the table.

“So? It looks better when I do it and there’s that one painter with like a million tails that—”

“You’ll get it when you’re older. Just be glad it’s easier for you than Jackie.” Manticores and tail painting really don’t mix.

“If you say so…” your kit looks a little downtrodden before she forgets whatever it was you just said.” Anyway then Miss Crystal came over and showed me her pictures in a magazine and started doing my hair but she only got halfway done because you came home and I had to meet you so I jumped on Milo and we came to say hi and he licked you and then you asked me how my day was and then I said—”

“That’s good. Where is Ms. Crystal? Where’s Mommy, come ta think?”

“Ms. Crystal is in the living room and Mommy’s in the kitchen. We’re having my favorite again!” Liver and onions. Great. It’s a good thing you developed a case for organ meat since you’ve gotten hitched to Ivy.


    Somehow your wolf of a dog manages to run circles around your legs as you walk down the hall. Actually, maybe he was chasing his tail and you were getting in the way, it got hard to tell with a mutt that big. Despite the animal trying to kill you you manage to make it to the living room without breaking your neck. There, on your couch picking hair from what trained eyes recognize as an expensive brush, is Crystal. You make a point of ignoring her magazine spreads on the coffee table. It’s not like she doesn’t look good in the various dresses and swimsuits, you’re just not allowed to notice anymore. What you do notice is that there’s not a single ungraded test or red pen out. Ivy’s cleaned up.


    It’s been a while since you met. Crystal’s grown her hair out—for all that says—though it’s still short for a Kejourou. As in it’s only down to her waist. She smiles warmly as you come into the room and stands to meet you.

“You get quite the greeting when you come home, huh?”

“I’ll sell ya the dog, you can have the same one every time you get back.”

“Milo is mine!” Olivia whines.

“He’s not goin’ anywhere, I was only kidding.” The kit eyes you like she’s not quite sure she believes you. You look to the dog for help. “Right boy?” He barks and stares up at you, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Okay…” It kinda hurt to think you needed a dog to back your word.

“And you’re gettin’ heavy, time to get down.”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Too bad.” The kit pouts a little as you set her on the ground. You’re gettin pretty good at ignoring that; you turn back to the kejourou without acknowledging your daughter’s puffed up cheeks at all. “Alright, I’m gonna need your keys.”

“Oh?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. “Ivy’s already put my purse away. Are we opening something special once the little one is asleep?”

“I think Ivy did get some of that top shelf stuff not long ago, yeah. I’m more worried about you running off without a word again though.”

Crystal rolls those flower petal eyes of hers. “Are you still going on about that? I told you when spots in those treatment programs open up you don’t have time to run around saying goodbye to everyone you know, you just go. Besides, it’s not like you made yourself easy to track down either. You really should’ve had a work phone or something, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get back into the business.”

There’s a tug on your sleeve. “What business?”

“Uh…” You aren’t anywhere near ready to explain this one. There’s only one thing you can do, the same thing your parents would do in an awkward situation: lie through your teeth. “Ms. Crystal and Daddy used to be masseuses.”

“What’s a Muhsuits?”

“It means we used to give people massages.” Crystal gives you a little wink. Nice assist.

“Like the massages you give Mommy?” Liv asks looking up at you.

“Yeah, just like those.” The parts she was allowed to see, at least. “Anyway—”

“Marco?” Your wife’s voice calls from the kitchen.

“Polo!” You and Olivia shout back in unison.


You turn to go see what Ivy wants, but the kejourou catches your elbow. When you turn back her arms are spread.

“Hug,” she demands.


“Come now, I haven’t seen you in ages. Give me a hug.”

“Not happenin’.”

“Hug!” It seems Olivia likes the idea as she happily wraps her arms around you. The problem is that at her height all she can get her hands on are your legs. You can’t move. Like a shark circling a wounded seal Crystal steps in and wraps her arms around you. Oh, fine… after double-checking to make sure she’d lifted her hair out of the way you do the same and give her a good squeeze.

“We should do this more often,” she smiles over your shoulder.

“You ever seen a pissed off kitsune? It ain’t pretty.”

The kejourou giggles as she steps back. “Not hugging, visiting.”

“Says Miss All-Over-The-World-Modeling.”

“And Mister In-Town-All-The-Time thinks that’s a problem? I can come to you, you know.”

“Yeah, well, the hours are weird. I kinda miss bein’ able to set my own.”

“Me too. Still, the working conditions are so much more… interesting now.”

“More money, more problems if you ask me, but it’s change. Anyway, I’d better go see what the wife wants.”

“Okay.” Crystal gingerly sat back down on the couch and motioned toward your daughter. “Come here Liv, let me finish.”

“‘Kay!” The kit bounds over without any more prompting and obediently sits in Crystal’s lap. The dog follows and rolled over for a belly rub without anyone calling him. Spoiled little bastard.


    In the kitchen Ivy is cooking up a storm. She has at least three burners and the oven going at once. Over the sizzling and bubbling you can just make out her humming some popular song as she sways to the tune. The effect is even nicer than it used to be; she’s gotten a little hippier and filled out a bit up top like her moms since Liv, twisting the way she is only reminds you of that. It’s not like Sonata wasn’t still hot, anyway. Upon inspection of less feminine bits you noticed Ivy’s hair is in a single braid that hadn’t been there this morning. You casually flip it as you walk past her into the kitchen.

“She got you too, huh?”

“Hmm? Oh, this? I like it. It’s nice having my hair off my neck while I’m in all this heat and it was good girl time. What’d you get?”

“I got off scott free.”

“Turn around.” You do, and you feel something pull at your hair. When you turn back around Ivy holds a pink clip-on bow in her fingers. “Not quite.”

“When did she—”

“Prehensile hair, remember?” The fox sniffs. “Did you hug her?”


“That’d be it, then. My turn.”


     You’re a lot less reluctant to give this hug even though your wife smells like onions and kitchen sweat. Hell, you’re a nice guy, you even give her a quick peck before you pull back. It’s an old feeling now, those husband and wife kisses don’t invoke the same warmth they did before, but still, something about them is… comforting.

“So how was work?” Ivy asks, quickly turning back to the stove before anything burns.

“You were right about opening up a branch in Monte Granito.”

“How so?”

“Well, turns out the place is on top of a giant ant hill.”

“So call an exterminator?”

“No, the hive ain’t giant, the ants are. Well, I guess the hive is big ‘cause the ants are, but—you know what I mean.  A familiar stole one of my guys right in the middle of a shift too. It’s… interesting. Still, it got me a hell of a—”

“Language,” Ivy snaps. Right, parenting.

“It got me a heck of a promotion even if we had to move halfway across the state to get it. How was class?”

You barely to manage to make out a shrug as she flips something in a pan. “Same old same old. I got a quiet crop this year, so no complaints from me. Dinner’s almost ready, you should go wash up.”


    A quick trip into the office to drop off your briefcase and a hand scrub later you head back down to the dining room, ready to eat. Your hands still smell like ten different kind of perfume. You don’t mind and Ivy seems to enjoy smelling you for a good twenty minutes before bed trying to pick out what you touched during the day.


    The table’s already set when you arrive downstairs, one bouncing daughter in her usual spot and a guest in the normally unused chair. Dinner is pretty simple: liver and onions, some kind of quinoa… thing, spinach and bread. The food’s good, the company’s good, life’s great.


     Everything but the eyes. You can feel them burning into you. Crystal carries the conversation: something something, innuendo regarding the kinks of foreign men, yada yada beta cameraman. You’re vaguely aware Liv probably shouldn’t be around to hear about that just yet, but more important are the eyes. They’re looking, even when they aren’t focused on you. Listening, even when they’re closed. You can only avoid them for so long, picking at your side dishes and nibbling on bread until there’s nothing left. Eventually there’s nothing but the meat on your plate.


     One large piece of beef liver lovingly cooked by your beautiful wife. It’s time. You reach for your knife as stealthily as a man sitting at a table with nothing to hide behind can. Eyes. It’s tender, you slice right through the flesh. More eyes as your utensils clink. It would be a good idea just to cut the meat one piece at a time, but then you’d feel like a dog guarding a bone and besides, Ivy’s been tellin’ you that cutting up your whole steak or whatever at once is the rich way to do things. You get the feeling it’s all a setup, but it sounds true enough, and what do you know? With the entire cut of meat cubed into neat pieces there’s nothing to do but sit back and wait without looking like you’re wai—


     You know the fork is coming even before you can see it. Years of dinners have prepared you for this. There’s a clang and you’re half sure sparks fly as you block Ivy’s reaching fork. Every freakin’ time...

“This one’s mine,” you grunt as your fork groans under Ivy’s continued pressure.

“So let your wife have a piece.” Right after you got engaged these clashes of strength always ended with your wife pushing you back, but now that you’re an incubus you can match her head on. The cutlery probably isn’t up the challenge though, you’ve got a feeling your fork’s gonna start bending at any moment.

“We’ve got... guests, ya know.”

“Then stop... fighting me.”

You and the wife speak through clenched teeth. To your daughter it might look like mommy and daddy are just having a little fun, but it’s probably obvious to Crystal that right now the two of you are in the middle of a fight. Again.

“If you wanted this piece you shoulda just taken it. You served.”

“But your liver always tastes the best!” Ivy whines.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It doesn’t have to it’s—” Ivy tried to sneak her knife past your guard to take advantage of your confusion. You aren’t having any of that. “C’mon!”

“It’s. Mine.”


     Your eyes lock like your utensils already have. You just barely manage to hold back the low growl building in your throat for your daughter’s sake. You can tell Ivy’s doing the same. Then there’s a clink and you whip your head down to the plate you’ve been so viciously guarding. Olivia just stole a piece of your liver.

“Wait, Liv—” You were just in time to watch her pop it into her mouth.

“Daddy’s liver really is the best!”

“You can’t just—”

“Ha!” Ivy exclaims as soon as you turn away. That tiny little break in your guard is enough to let Ivy free up her fork and snatch another piece. Dammit!


    Crystal must think it’s hilarious, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her giggling. For you though this was almost life and death. Liv’s reaches towards your plate are slow, clumsy, and she only uses her fork. You manage to knock most of those away with no problem until she gives up and just starts using her hands. But Ivy? She’s a machine. You could swear she’s stealing your dinner with two shovels instead of a fork and knife.  It’s four hands against your two and almost before you know it your plate is clean. You don’t even get to taste your own liver. Man…


“Now now,” Ivy beams, her smile lighting up like the sun now that the last sign of our defeat has disappeared down her gullet, “I won’t let you go hungry. Say ‘ahhhhh.’”

You grumble. “You could’ve just traded in the first place…” before sulkily taking the cube of Ivy’s liver on the fork held up in front of you. It is pretty good.

“Say ‘ahhhhhhhhhh,’” Liv’s smaller voice on your other side demands from behind a roughly cut piece of liver.

You lean down to take it, but not before another grumble. “People’re watching, ya know.”

“You say that,” Ivy begins as her hand finds its way to yours, “but do you really mind?”

“Do I mind? Do I freakin’ mind?” You glare at Ivy, willing your face to keep the right shape as your free hand gropes down Liv’s arm to wrap around her tiny fingers. Your daughter’s hands are still covered in the remnants of your liver’s juices and gravy, but that doesn’t stop them from bathing you in a gentle heat. Ivy’s too. You never get tired of that feeling. You’ve never been one for words, but as the smile you’ve been struggling to suppress creeps out along your lips you find the perfect way to say what you feel.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”


The end.



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