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Pretty Human

This version was saved 9 years, 8 months ago View current version     Page history
Saved by Sea Foam
on July 18, 2014 at 7:59:57 am
 

[3/28/14]======================================================================

>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.

>"Don't!"

"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?"

>"Yup."

>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!"

>Bingo.

>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."

 

[3/29/14]======================================================================

>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

>Perfect

>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.”

>”Then…”

>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?”

>”I might b- THAT’S A RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!”

>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.”

>”Fifteen.”

>”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.”

>”Okay…”

>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?”

>”Right.”

>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.

 

[4/2/14]=======================================================================

>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 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…

>”Wow.”

>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.”

>”No.”

>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?”

>”Large.”

>”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.

>”What?”

>”’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?”

>”Uh-huh.”

>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?”

 

[04/12/14]=======================================================================

>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.

>”Meanie.”

>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.

>”Noooonnnnyyyyyy.”

>”What?”

>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.”

>”Huh?”

>”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.

>”Booze.”

>”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.

 

[4/26/14]======================================================================

>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?”

>”Insulted?”

>”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?"

>"Naw."

>"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.

 


[5/12/14]======================================================================

>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?”

>”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.

>Almost.

>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?”

 

[5/18/14]======================================================================

>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?”

>”No.

>”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.”

>”What?”

>”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?”

>”What?”

>”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?”

>”Hmm?”

>”Go to bed.”

 

[7/18/14]======================================================================

>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!”

>”Cheap.”

>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.

>”Perfect.”

>”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.

>”Polo.”

>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.

>”Polo.”

>”For crying out loud... Marco.”

>”Polo.”

>”Marco.”

>”Polo.”

>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.

>”Marco.”

>”Polo.”

>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 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.

>”Nope.”

>”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?”

>”Yeah.”

>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.

 

 

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