Backstage Pass (v3) -- 2009 Fred Brown, Kevin Trott fwbrown@nb.sympatico.

ca

Backstage Pass

Copyright Fred Brown, Kevin Trott, Jan 5, 2009

fwbrown@nb.sympatico.ca

Chapter Three:

I pushed open the door to the rampway and, still thinking about
lionesses, promptly bumped my nose into a raccoon.
"OUCH!!"
Derrick was no less surprised than me. But recovered first, and put a
hand to my shoulder as I bounced off him. "And Ah thought Ah'd have to use th'
system t' find you" he chuckled. "But no. Artist meerkat, if you're in the habit of
tryin' to walk through big raccoons do Ah speculate your two eyes need a tuneup?"
I rubbed at my muzzle. "If I keep doing it my nose certainly will. Ow.
Mind on other things. Specifically the hot blonde lioness on the prowl back there
who set her eyes on a certain handsome meerkat. Got in a highly hot dance with
her. Then her nose outed me in a shot and she was still interested. Meowrr. I'm
having quite the night so far."
Derrick blinked. "First it's a tigress that's got you droolin'. Now a lioness.
Anybody ever accuse you of livin' dangerously?"
"Add sexy foxes and cute bunnies to the list too; this married lesbian
couple I met on the subway. Combined in bed they'd make either a tigress or a
lioness look like a pussycat. But I'd die purring. After seeing the Jamati art they
turned around and wanted me to do nude portraits of them. I think I'm going to
do it too."
"Really. Wall, good t' know as an artist that you're versatile. If you
survive th' modeling sessions. Let's get outta th' doorway and go find an empty
office so we c'n talk about your current work."
I turned and went back through the doors as Derrick came up beside me.
We headed for the security kiosk. The large bear fur sitting behind it looked up
from the couple of monitors in front of him. His glasses had the appearance of
micro vid-n-comm screens. His suit did its job well. As if he wasnt big enough
already. I got the feeling all the Layers security staff shopped at the same
clothing store.
"Yo, Tom," Derrick said. "Anybody's office empty? Dont feel like
walking upstairs t mine. Friend and Ah need a bit of meeting space."

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Backstage Pass (v3) -- 2009 Fred Brown, Kevin Trott fwbrown@nb.sympatico.ca

"Maintenance Chief's not here tonight," Tom said. "Let me get a pass."
He reached down to a drawer and pulled out a round disk of plastic on a thin
chain. He waved it over a small box that I assume was an RFID sensor, then
handed it to me. "Press it on top of your left paw, will you? Okay, got it. You're
keyed in, Mr. Perry. I'll need that back when you come out or loud bells go off.
Ditto if you take it off."
The badge was also a sensor, then. I slipped the chain over my head and
patted the badge. "Not that security is my business, but does a nightclub really
need this much of it? I feel like I'm being cleared to enter the Pentagon."
Behind us, a trio of pretty mouse fur girls walked past and out onto the
dance floor, their ultra-short skirts as effective as a certain lioness's and for the
same reason. The raccoon and the bear looked up at them for a second, then cast
an owlish glance at each other.
"Could probably spend all night answering that one, eh?" Tom grinned.
Then to me: "The best security is the kind that's utterly invisible, and in strength,
and always on top of any problems before anybody else knows there's any.
Meaning those three mouse girls can party all night in complete safety, our job
being to spot anything unsafe and get in the way before it gets to them."
"Which is usually other patrons who've decided t' be stupid rather than
polite," Derrick rumbled. "Trust me, artist, we've a trickier task than it looks.
How are things goin' tonight, by th' way?"
Tom tapped at the keyboard in front of him and studied a screen.
"Capacity is at 357 souls, six persons under watch right now, no incidents or
interventions yet. But the night is young and so are they. Bar three reports two
girls who're overindulging and headed for cut-off, but they seem to be too
fascinated by naked wolf cock to make trouble. Normal night. So far."
I raised an eyebrow. "Colour me impressed. I guess. Although
considering how big those suits make you guys look, invisibility is not your forte.
That said, you'll excuse me for not wanting to trade jobs with you."
"Y' don't meet th' height requirement for floor staff anyway," Derrick
joked, then pushed off from the kiosk. "C'mon."
Derrick led the way to a door behind the kiosk, then through into a long
hallway. We passed an open door that revealed a lunchroom, then another that
gave me a glimpse of a room half-full of desks and comp screens and the several
furs monitoring them. One of them I recognized; the ferret fur stripper. Looked
like a security ops room to me.
Insight dawned. "Okay, I get it," I said to Derrick as we walked, then
turned a corner. "The big guys in the muscle suits are the show of force, the
presence on the ground that convinces everybody there is security in place. But
the real security staff is everybody else. They don't resemble security in the
slightest, and they're going to pop up out of thin air to deal with a problem before
the problem gets to be one. In point of fact you're all security. Even the strippers
are trained. Am I right?"
"Aw dang, you guessed," Derrick grinned as he turned and pushed
through the door to an office. "Now, as th' joke goes, Ah'll have t' kill you. Or
not, since y' did pay to get in. First rule of security: don't kill th' customers. Ah'll
forgo any more talkin' about our setup heah on th' grounds that a security system
that gets talked about converts spontaneously into a screen door."
Um. He had a point. The office had a couch and coffee table in front of
the wide desk. Papers and memory cards and a screen and keyboard told the
executive tale there. And a small fridge behind it to the side. Derrick gestured to
the couch and headed for the fridge. "Beer, water, Coke, what?" he said as he
bent down.
"Coke'll do, thanks," I replied as I sat down on the couch and looked
around. Definitely belonged to a boss. Rich carpet, luxurious furniture, and good
paintings on the walls. The high-end entertainment system and comp in the
corner was also a giveaway.

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Derrick came back and handed me a Coke to his can of beer. Together
we cracked the tops and sipped. Derrick sat down in the wide chair at the end of
the coffee table.
"Mmmm," he said, taking another sip. "But a last word on security. Y
think it through for a sec, artist. Layers is more'n dance floor. There's five more
floors above us." As he gestured with his beer. "And th' members who belong to
that are payin' real good coin for th' privilege of a very safe and secure space in
which to make furry whoopee. Which is to say Layers is also a real exclusive and
real good sex club. It's not advertised. Maybe shouldn't be or everybody'd want
in. Very private, very discreet. So you tell me how much security a place like this
is gonna need. A lot, and it'd better be top-flight, hmmm?"
For a moment my Coke went ignored. This was because my muzzle was
dropped open about to my knees. A sex club? Ho-ly crap. And a fur-oriented sex
club at that. I could imagine it. I could also feel my pussy tingling a bit. Furs
being furs, the line between straight, lesbian and gay would not be drawn thickly.
I could chuck the suit and just dive in. Oh boy, would I dive in.
I closed my mouth and swallowed hard. "All I can think of," I began
hoarsely, then swallowed again. "All I can think of is, does Layers need an artist
in residence? I think I'm versatile enough to draw cocks as well as pussies. And if
there's any herm members, both at the same time."
Derrick chuckled. "Judgin' from what you can do with Jamati Ah won't
put it past you. You are good, Ah'll say it out loud. If you n Jamati do hit it off
Ah predict you're gonna have a helluva lot of fun up there."
"What are the chances?" I said ironically. I set down my Coke and pulled
out picture #1. Artist in residence at a sex club. My, but the career choices were
just falling out of the sky tonight. "Out of curiosity, does she perform up there
too?"
Derrick nodded slowly. "Ohhh yah. Every so often. 'Course, if she did
those routines down heah on th' second floor she might well get arrested since
we're only licensed for strippin', not anything penetrative with toys 'n stuff.
Although that don't seem to stop some of th' girls on occasion. A little now and
again t' add a bit of spice ain't nuthin'. Okay, a truckload of spice."
"Yeah. I've noticed too," I said faintly, staring at the picture. Maybe
some of the porny stuff wasn't as far from reality as I thought.
I shook my head. "Damn. As if I need more inspiration to draw hot
tigresses in naughty poses," I muttered. "I'm definitely gonna need to buy more
orange 'n black ink." I held up the picture. "But before I do that, maybe let's get
what I've already drawn out of the way."
Should I show him picture #2? Sooner or later I'd have to. Let's make it
sooner. I put the first pic on the table, dug back into the coat, then unfolded it and
held it out to him. "You've probably already figured it so I ought to come clean.
There's more where this came from, Moriarty."
Derrick took the page and double-taked. "Yeah, Ah had figured, and..."
Then trailed off as he looked at the art. Then looked some more. Another piece
I'd nailed, then. But we already knew that.
Derrick lowered the picture and just stared out into space for a moment.
Then looked at it again. Then at me. "Ah work with this woman," he said quietly.
"Ah know how beautiful she is up close, and Ah've seen her show hundreds of
times. Now you show me this and Ah'm seein' a Jamati Ah've never seen before.
How beautiful she really is. How th' hell did y' do that?"
Perhaps the meerkat artist ego had better get used to this? "I think it has
to do with how beautiful I see her in my mind's eye," I said mildly. "'S where all
artists work from, not what the real eyes see. From there it's just a matter of welltrained scribbling. Been at the art school for two years now. I'll humbly
acknowledge good teachers."

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"Oh, wall, if that's all it is," Derrick murmured, back to staring at the
picture. "Suppose if he really puts his mind to it he might be able to do somethin'
great."
Derrick blinked. "She," he chuckled. "That's she, not he, dumb raccoon.
Ah keep forgettin'. Kylah, you keep on dressin' better'n most guys who come in
heah, that's likely t continue. Ah know you said you hadn't really figured that out
for yourself, but mah opinions a simple one. Sneaky meerkat, you just like
foolin' people." He put the picture down on the coffee table, then took a swallow
of beer.
Out of the mouths of raccoons this time. And a surprise of a thought if
there ever was one. I covered by reaching for my Coke and taking a long drink.
Did I like fooling people? Witness my performance with Samantha and Theresa.
That being true, then exactly why did I get a kick out of it? That was an angle
worth analyzing. When people play tricks isn't it usually towards the goal of
taking advantage of other folks? Or towards gaining an advantage?
So where was the advantage I gained by doing this? That I couldn't get
by dressing as female?
I put the Coke back down and rubbed my muzzle. "You know, Derrick,
that opinion is going to give me trouble in the nights to come, I said. Since I
get a spooky feeling you've put your finger on something... key. I haven't looked
at this as fooling people, but that is what it is, isn't it? I see a handsome meerkat
in the mirror and it feels good to see 'him.' So is it fooling other folks that's the
source of that? Or is it just fooling myself?"
"Um," Derrick murmured. "Ah'm security, not therapy. Although if we
were discussin' this from a security point of view, Ahd point out that good
camouflage and disguises are usually worn in order to help cope with a threat
environment. If y' can't be detected, or if your opponents think you're somethin'
other than y' are, you're that much safer. How not to be seen: a pretty basic
security tactic. As for why y' do that or to what degree, that depends on th' kind
of threats y' think you're facing. Or th kind of edge you want when you break
cover to confront a threat. A little surprise goes a long way in mah business.
We're gettin' a mite sidetracked from tigress stripper artwork but hey, if it helps."
Poing! And that was meerkat ears going straight up this time. As the rest
of the meerkat sagged back into the comfy couch not quite in shock at that but
sure as hell knowing when the nail's been hit smack on the head. Or smack
upside the head; whichever. Derrick had something more'n key there.
"Actually, that's more helpful in a single shot than my years of flailing at
it; bill me for this session later, Mr. Amateur Raccoon Therapist," I said slowly.
"Probably take a bucket of real therapy to work me through it, but if you want to
talk threat environments I can't think of a more hazardous one than growing up
lesbian in a household that contained my Momma. And scared spitless she'd
figure something out or jump to the right conclusions. I grew up in the country.
Lesbian support groups were kinda thin on the ground. And I was terrified one of
my brothers would shoot his mouth off. Followed by another shot. To my head."
Derrick took a drink of beer, then pondered that. "Yah, that might do
somethin to you. We're all furs here, and gay or lesbian or straight ain't quite as
significant for us as for humans. If you've got a tail, sex is just sex, and what your
partner's got under their's matters less than how th two of you make it work.
Doesn't always make comin' out any easier, though. Mah older brother had to
move away before he could. Just 'cause you're here in Atlanta and out of range
don't mean you've left th' fear of bein' shot behind. 'Course, a real therapist'll
probably tell you that rifle fire's not th' true problem but just surrogate for th'
ordinary fears we all have about sexual relationships. You just never got to face
'em and deal with 'em while y' was growin' up like th' rest of us. Scary Momma
took up more of your time."
Now I really stared at him. "Good Lord, what I night I'm having," I
breathed. "Two cute fur lesbians offer me some highly practical romantic advice
about tigresses--over and above the commission thing--a lioness unmasks me and
doesn't run away, and now a security raccoon's doing a damn good therapist
imitation right before my eyes. I wonder, should I press my luck and pounce on

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Jamati later on? The way things are going she'll fall at my feet and be my pussyslave for life."
Derrick burst out laughing. "Nooo, Ah don't recommend th' pouncing.
Not unless you enjoy bein' mauled, and/or thrown out th' door at high velocity.
Or what's left after Jamati's done chewin' on you. And did Ah hear y' say pussyslave?"
"The fox and the bunny described themselves as pussy-slaves to each
other," I grinned. "Which leads me to speculate about how many leather goodies
they put to use in their bedroom, but I'm more curious to find out what Jamati
thinks of the concept. As I drag us back on topic."
"Yah, about Jamati," Derrick said, pointing at picture #2. "And all th' hot
art you've done about her. Which still kinda worries me, y'know, even if there
weren't any cams involved. Ah suppose a good artist's got two of 'em inside his-her--head at all times anyway. Or Ah should say, th' fact that you're so motivated
to draw her kinda pings mah security instincts a bit."
Ah: now we were onto a subject we could communicate about. "I've
thought about that. Figured you might have a concern," I said, and reached for
my Coke to give me a second to marshal thoughts. I sipped, then: "Anybody who
gets obsessed with one of your strippers, for whatever reason, is gonna raise the
fur on the back of your neck, right?"
All Derrick had to do was nod.
"Then let me clear the air a bit. You ever have a crush on someone? I
mean a serious, bumping-into-telephone-poles, head-turning-to-pudding crush?"
Derrick took a sip of beer. "Oh wall, Ah do recall bein' fifteen, with all
th' hormones runnin' at th' full howl, and lookin' around and sayin' to mahself
wait a sec, this isn't a boy's locker room, this is a candy store. And will y look at
all those all-day suckers and tasty, ah, cinnamon buns walkin' around? Don't
know about lesbian girls but gay boys learn not t' ogle. We also learn to spot
other boys who are tryin' just as hard not t' ogle. So Ah don't know about crushes,
per se. Whenever Ah found mahself attracted Ah usually just acted on it. After
all, y' make a pass and you'll either get a yes or you'll get a no. Poof: no more
crush. Me, Ah came out when Ah was about fourteen or so. Sorta helped that Ah
was big as a house. Go ahead, Dad, just try t' beat me up and see what happens.
Ah can appreciate that y' didn't have that option with your Momma."
By this time my muzzle was open down to my knees again. "Or did Ah
just derail your train of thought a little?" Derrick grinned, and took another sip of
beer.
Raccoons: comedians, the lot of them. Including the gay ones. Who
couldn't resist pulling a meerkat's tail. But he did answer my question.
"I think somebody upstairs is having a good yuk at me tonight," I
chuckled, shaking my head. "As a splendid curve ball comes zooming in at me. A
gay raccoon. I swear, in the future, I am going to make absolutely no
assumptions about sexuality. In anybody."
"Always thought that's a wise policy," Derrick smiled. "Don't always
follow it that well mahself. You want th' whole truth, Ah remember the first time
you came here. Mmmm, hel-lo, now this a cute meerkat. Got that kinda fur boi
thang goin' on that Ah like. Ah wonder... Imagine mah surprise."
I pointed a finger at him. "All right, funny raccoon, that's enough. You
got me once but not twice," I giggled. "There's taking a walk on the wild side and
then there's flat-out impossible. Although if I fooled you that far I'll have to take
that as a compliment on my acting skills."
"Apparently. So what's this about crushes?"
I took a deep breath. "Don't know if this will ease your mind or not. I am
very crush-prone; always have been. Likely because there was never any way to
do anything about it. I got inhumanly good at not doing anything about it, except

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for a couple of times. How could I? Every so often I'd look at a girl, and my
pussy would mug my head, and I'd damn near break a dildo or ten, but other than
that zip. I have learned one big thing about a crush: however strong it is, however
wild the fantasy it generates, it must be a purely internal thing. I do nothing about
it."
Derrick raised an eyebrow. "Then seems to me you've broken your own
rule heah."
I nodded. "Yup. Saw Jamati the first time and bumped into every
telephone pole in the city getting home. Big time crush, as strong as any; heck,
strong enough that you spotted me, as quiet as I was being about it."
"Mainly that that tipped me. We know how an audience behaves. You
were riveted to the spot. Obvious."
"So I was. So what's different this time? There's two pieces of paper on
this table that shouldn't be here, according to past experience. Something unique's
come together about Jamati. As in, a crush and art skill. Or at least a crush for a
couple of weeks or so. I know head 'n pussy well enough and they've cooled
down a good bit. I'm only bumping into every third telephone pole now. Another
few weeks and I might even be over her. If I can stop hanging out here for
another fix when she does her show. And the idea of a crush as a temporary
sexual addiction on another person does hold water."
"Uh huh," Derrick said dryly. "A lot of th' strippers heah have their
regulars, male or female. We're kinda familiar with th' concept."
I reached out and tapped picture #1. "Any of the regulars drawing hot art
like this?"
"Ah kinda doubt it. If they are, we don't know about it."
"Well, you know about this. And what I know is I'm not going to look a
gift crush, or tigress, in the muzzle. Odd thing about art. Inspiration to draw
something has to have an obsessional flavour to it, the feeling that you've got to
get that image down on the page or screen. Writers say the same, can't rest until
they've beaten their keyboard and forehead bloody getting the words right. For
whatever reason, this crush has been handing me image after image on a platter.
In six weeks I've finished twenty-seven of 'em, and another nine sketches in the
queue. Thats serious productivity for an artist, by the way. Most of them quite
porny, of course, but still. And none of it's going nowhere, for any reason
whatsoever, unless there's an acceptable deal on the table with all parties
concerned. That's certainly Jamati. If for some reason that's also Layers, fine by
me."
Derrick nodded. "Ah was hopin' you'd say somethin' like that. Saves me
sayin'. Likely wouldn't involve Layers unless corporate logo or trademarks or
publicity were involved. But Ah'm not the one t' say about that."
"Neither am I. But I am a commercial artist, and it's obvious as hell to me
that images of Jamati could have commercial potential. As I said, both the fox
and the bunny instantly wanted these two pics as posters within seconds of
locking on eyeballs. That's the simplest product that could come out of this. It's
also one I could do with near-zero investment and marketing. If Jamati's
interested in a deal. And I've got a good idea how big an If that is. She's gotten
offers before from photographers, hasn't she?"
"Ah see they're raisin' smart meerkats in th' country," Derrick murmured.
"Ah have to kick a porn-hound photographer or agent-wannabe in th' head every
month or so to get th' point across that Jamati has no interest in going into th'
mass-media sex trade. Even as much as y' could say live porn is kinda what she
does around heah. And is perfectly happy stickin' with that. Said one time her
parents dumped her into all th' dance training they could find when she was a kit
in th' odd hope of gettin' a tigress ballerina out of it. Finally, she gets to use that
training, and in a way that would make her Momma choke on her own tail if she
were alive."

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"And I wondered why she enjoys it so much," I chuckled. "Now I know."

I reached out and tapped picture #1. "I will point out, in the interests of avoiding
a raccoon-sized boot to the meerkat head, that art is not like photography. Think
only of the time it takes to do one piece that's good enough to sell. We're talking
an entirely different process from posing nude with legs open--excuse my
drooling--then some dude with sweaty palms blasts away with a camera.
Thats what gives em away sometimes. They drop the camera,
Derrick snickered.
Knowing how she dances, that I dont wonder about, I grinned. I
picked up picture #1 and held it up. But a second point, even more important.
Over the last six weeks I've seen plenty enough of Jamati to be able to draw hot
tigresses all day long. Gotta figure out how to get marked for it. So the subject of
nude modeling does not actually have to arise. Unless she wants to; whoops,
pardon me, am I praying so hard you can hear me? Heck, to be honest we never
even need to meet. Easiest case scenario, I forward the standard model release
the college uses, plus a rider relating to posters, she checks it with your lawyers
just to be sure about it, and we all go back to work."
"Now, now, artist meerkat," Derrick drawled. "Don't y' go pulling mah
leg. You'd sell your tail for sausages with you still attached for th' chance at a
tigress nude modeling session."
"Duh," I snorted, and put picture #1 back down. "What gave me away?
But like I said, this isn't a normal crush. For once, it seems to be trumped by what
the artist in me wants: a chance to find out just how good the art could get.
Another thing about my profession. Until a vein of inspiration is completely
mined out, no artist worth his or her salt is gonna sleep until they've crafted
absolutely the best work they possibly can. I look at these two pictures here, and
think of what's in a folder on my kitchen table, and I'm stone-certain there's better
to be done. I'm honestly not sure which has me drooling more: the idea of staring
at a naked Jamati for a couple of hours, or the caliber of the art I could get out of
that session. Meerkat to raccoon: am I getting through here?"
I asked because Derrick had a funny look on his face and was sort of
staring blankly, holding his beer up halfway to his muzzle.
Derrick completed the motion and took a drink, then put his beer down.
Then shook his head and looked at me. "Ah, sorry. Ah'm just flashin' on th' very
weird position Ah'm in heah. If y' sum it up, mah job basically boils down t'
keepin' folks like you outta Jamati's hair. Sometimes politely, every so often less
so. Excepting that heah it could well be a very positive thing t' make th'
introduction. So what if Ah'm gay? Ah wouldn't mind havin' a poster-sized
Jamati on mah apartment wall mahself. Now: do Ah have th' right to make that
introduction, is what Ah'm tryin' to work out."
I blinked. Whup, another curve ball. With some topspin on it. And this
was a security raccoon talking... Ah ha. Got it.
"I... think I can read your mind here," I said slowly. "So what if the artist
meerkat looks like a perfectly sane, sober fellow, an upstanding member of the
crossdressing community. Looks can be deceiving. Unless you've got a credible
guarantee there won't be trouble, there's always the risk that there might be. And
there's no way for you to calculate that risk, or to advise Jamati if she should run
it."
Now Derrick's jaw dropped. "Ah take it back: they're raisin' extremely
smart meerkats in th' country. Or mindreaders. Ah was tryin' to find a diplomatic
way to put that."
Hmmm. Looked at that way he did have a quandary. Security's job is to
keep the door closed, not open it. Except for when the person trying to enter has
been thoroughly checked out, or is known safe. Or...? Ah ha again.
"Derrick, you'll recall I said there's no priority on any of this," I said
calmly. "Don't give a hoot if I meet Jamati tonight or not, so nobody has to work
out nuthin' here. We've talked a bit, I've told you a few things about me and this
art thing that's on my mind, all of which isn't quite enough for you to decide one

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way or another. And/or the decision rests with someone above your pay grade. In
which case your task here is to pass on two hot pictures and a report. They're
copies; keep 'em. At some point Jamati probably needs to see 'em. But I'm going
to put one more card on the table. Literally."
I reached into my jacket, pulled out my ID, and held it up. "When Layers
reads this puppy, law says you just get to grab basic data to confirm identity and
payment ability and transaction details. Of course, if you were law enforcement
you could read a lot more, and could go from there to do a full-blown security
check on me right down to how I got here on the AT. Correct?
Derrick's eyes narrowed. "Takes a quickie court order t' do that, and
since we ain't law enforcement we couldn't..."
"Then I'll just have to give you permission, won't I?" I interrupted
cheerfully, and flipped my card at him; Derrick caught it one-handed. "I'll wager
you do security checks on potential employees, and likely thorough ones. So let's
hit a comp, call up the consent paperwork, we fill it in, we swipe card, I sign it,
and away you go. Learn as much about the artist meerkat as you want. I open my
life to you. Screen me as though I was applying for a security job. Might not tip
the balance for you but I expect it'll help."
Derrick looked at my ID card. "Willingness t do that says somethin'
right there. Won't say a green result wouldn't be a confidence builder. Hmmm.
Now wait a sec, a full check involves some psych screenin'..."
"One step ahead of you. I'll add a rider for the college. They wanted
some basic psych panels as part of our admission papers. Sort of reasonable;
artists have been known to have a few screws loose, such that they might have
trouble completing the program."
"Ah. Y do want t' go above and beyond th' call of duty heah."
"Call me motivated."
"Yah, Ah suppose y' are," Derrick chuckled. "Ah'll confess, Ah'm kinda
curious t see how Jamati's gonna take all this. She's entirely used t goin' out on
stage an' makin' a whole roomful of folks wanna boink her, gender
notwithstandin'. Now along comes a handsome meerkat an' 'he' wants to pick up
a pen instead. Yeah, and dare Ah point out that a good security check is gonna
blow that 'he' clean outta th' water for you?"
I winced. "We-ll, I might just have to thank you for taking that little
problem off my hands. Since I haven't got a freakin' clue how to tell her on my
own. Yet. I've painted myself into a corner here, ha ha. Or I could cut the
bullshit, to quote something a bunny said, and the first time I meet her I shake her
paw, look her in the eye, and say, 'Oh by the way, I'm actually lesbian.' That
presupposes I'm not unconscious from hyperventilating."
I picked up my Coke and drained it, then found my fingers crumpling the
thin metal; let's not get the claws stuck. Nice metaphor there for what I'd look
like if the above procedure went badly. Crap. I really had to start thinking this
through. Now that it looked like I was getting somewhere.
Derrick noticed. "'Scuse me while Ah put mah therapist hat back on," he
said softly. "All right, so y've got heebie-jeebies comin' out your furry ears. Small
wonder, considerin' how private this all is for you. But y' had th' guts to let me
know, and you`re not spooked that a lioness knows. Seems likely t' me you can
tell a hot tigress. Remember, this is Layers. If y' can't have fun with your furry
fetishes heah, where can you? And if y' haven't looked at this from th' angle of
fetishes, might be worth your time. Also, keep in mind that Jamati's been
performing at Layers from th' day it opened ten years ago. This tigress is a
looong way from a prude. A cross-dressin' lesbian meerkat? Oooo, she'll be
shocked, shocked, Ah say. Oh no, she'll nevah nevah nevah talk to you again.
Just run screamin' from th' room. Ah swear, she'll be yowlin' in hysterics..."
"All right, that'll do," I growled, as Derrick grinned smugly at me.
"That's what I look for in a therapist: skill with sarcasm. Who has accurately
noted a fact I hadn't thought about. Agreed: Jamati is plenty experienced enough

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not to be fazed by handsome lil' ol moi. In my more optimistic fantasies her

reaction is vastly different, mind you, which highlights the reason they're called
fantasies. Please log some brownie points to my account, thank you, for how I
keep them from screwing things up in the real world."
Derrick flipped my ID card around in his fingers. "What would y' do if
she did react th' way you most desperately want?" he purred slyly. "Ah will bet
you a buck she'll at least be curious about you."
I wasn't sure I could answer that. But then the goofy/boggled look on my
face kinda got in the way, that being how most of us look, I think, when
contemplating a hot fantasy that might be able to be satisfied. The one that lets
you smooch a tigress, that is; you know the one.
"Ah don't suppose Ah needed t' ask, did Ah?" Derrick chuckled, as I
regained my composure.
"Use your imagination, pretend Jamati's male, and see how you'd feel," I
said wryly. "I think I'm justified in carrying around maybe a teensy-tiny bit of
lust for her. Fair warning: I may make a pass at her at some point."
"Ummm...," Derrick said, and now he had a slightly glazed look in his
eyes. "Jamati as a boy. Y'know, you promise t' do a poster like that, Ah think Ah
might just move heaven 'n earth for you. Thatd be somethin..."
Oooo. Had sort of been joking there. But it didn't take more than a
millisecond for the image to click. Simply pretend I'm drawing her brother? Gad,
but hed be spectacular
Derrick and I looked at each other. "Just something about tigers, isn't
there?" I breathed. "What is it? Tail? Muzzle? Fangs? Fur?"
"All of th' above, Ah think," Derrick reflected. "Considerin' th' way it all
comes together. More beauty 'n lethal 'n dominance in one package than a
predator ought to own. But they do. And y' wonder why Jamati brings the whole
room to a halt when she dances. She could bring th' whole room to its knees if
she wanted to, and she damn well knows it. Got a tigress heah who likes t' be
admired. Knowin' that an artist is interested in her, Ah rightly suspect she
wouldn't care if you was dressed as a pink-polka-dot-covered kangaroo wearin' a
tutu."
"I can draw one of those," I joked. Then I snapped my fingers. "Oh right:
about being admired. You remind me. I had a side-topic to mention. Much
simpler, and in principle no need for security check. Although my offer still
stands."
"Oh?"
I steepled my fingers under my muzzle, my elbows on my knees. "So
Jamati's beautiful. So what? Sheer, heart-stopping beauty that's good enough for
art isn't that rare. But sheerly heart-stoppingly beautiful women who are willing
to spend a couple of hours nude, stock-still, and posing for a bunch of art
students, are actually kinda rare. The pay's only a few cuts above token, so it's a
part-time thing for most of the models who hang out at the college. However, if
Jamati does like to be admired--what was our first clue?--and if she's got time to
spare, Id like to cordially invite her to be admired by several classes worth of art
students. When she sees what the lot of us can crank out I guarantee she'll be
pleased. I may be good, and I'll certainly be right in there scribbling along with
the rest, but believe me when I say there are some good artists at the college."
Derrick pondered that. "Hmmm. Ah think Ah see th' contours of your
evil plan. By way of getting th' college a new nude model you get to hide in th'
crowd and draw tigresses until your fingers cramp up."
I spread my arms. "I am the sneaky meerkat," I grinned. "It's the easiest
plan that could work if we limit the goal to just drawing tigresses and don't worry
about crushes or crossdressing or what-not. At school I'm just a very boyishlooking girl; hardly know I was one, actually. Now: I need to talk this up with
some folks at the college since I don't know all the details about how models get

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hired. But I'm pretty sure if Jamati shows up and shucks her undies she'll be hired
at very close to lightspeed. Better: let`s make this anonymous. You'll get a letter
from the school to pass on to Jamati saying one of our students spotted you, she
thinks you're glorious, would you like to model for us, yadda yadda. My name
isnt in there at all."
Derrick had gone back to flipping my ID card. And pondering some
more. I held my breath. I couldn't think of anything else to say. He had the whole
picture in his paws and he either liked the shape of it, and helped, or didn't, and
didn't. I had to face the idea: I could come away with nothing.
Finally:
Derrick looked at my ID. "All right," he said. "Ah think it's possible t'
take one step forward heah. After that we might be able t' take more. In fact it's
even a partway legit step. Ah'll take y' up on your offer if you'll take me up on
mine. Ah can't run a check outta th' blue; costs money. But since Ah am security
second-in-command around this joint Ah can get away with saying Ah've found
someone Ah'd like t' hire as what we call a snooper. Personnel usually handles
hiring so you'll be talkin' t them at some point soon, but that's cool. Even more
cool: if y' work for me you'll get paid to hang around heah 'n ogle Jamati."
Yes, yes: jaw down to knees again. "Derrick!!" I yelped, after the muzzle
came back closed. "Do all raccoons like dropping big things on people or is it
just you? Above his pay grade, my furry ass! And he didn't even snicker. If I was
any higher up the food chain around this place I'd need oxygen!"
"Ah get it from mah brother," Derrick grinned. "Maybe playin' endless
practical jokes on each other is a bad way t' express sibling affection? One time,
no idea how, but Ah woke up with bright green fur. St. Paddys Day. Anyway.
Would y' rather be talkin' to one of th' regular staffers? Ah thought not. And FYI,
a snooper is someone who looks like a guest, acts like one, drinks n eats n
dances like one, but is equipped with some discrete comm n comp gear. You're
hooked into th' Ops team, their eyes 'n ears on th' ground, and most times all
you'll do is party an' have fun. Th' rare time there's trouble brewin', you've
spotted it, then Ops vectors a large fur in a suit in your direction t' squish it.
Which aint your job except maybe in real urgent of circumstances. By which Ah
mean risky. Snoopers get some special trainin'. Ah'm quite serious heah. For
obvious reasons Ah figure you'd be a natural."
"Oh, yeah, the suit," I said weakly, waving a hand. "Definitely picked the
right suit tonight. I knew that. One of my instructor's always griping on about the
lousy jobs she had to take to support her art career. I don't dare tell her about this.
She'd stab me through the heart with a #3 fine sable. You are actually, genuinely,
serious?"
"On matters of security Ah'm th' most humourless raccoon alive. And in
case y' didn't parse it out, if you're on th' payroll then you are trouble-free in a
way that Ah likely can guarantee. What you and Jamati do about art on your own
time is up t' you. While you're on mah time, of course, you're in mah chain of
command and both your asses belong to me. So Ah don't expect there'll be any
trouble. Will there?"
Derrick grinned in a fangy way that clearly proved that raccoons were
predators. Not that I had any doubts. "Probably pointless to look for a 'no chomp'
clause in my contract," I sighed. "Also probably going to have to switch sugar for
crystal meth in my coffee. Artist meerkat by day, undercover party meerkat by
night. I'm not sure how long I'll last at that."
"Did y' hear me say it was a full-time gig? Snoopers are on two nights a
week, no more; fixed rule. And not back to back. A fatigued snooper is useless to
th' unit. It's harder work than it seems, havin' t' be highly alert and covert well
into th' wee hours of th' night in a place a busy as this. The snoopers are a tight
bunch; they'll help y' cope. And you're in for two months of trainin' before y' take
a shift. We'll work it into evenings an' weekends. Pretty crucial job, t' tell th'
truth. Ninety-nine percent partying an' one percent blinding heart-attack panic
when an occurrence pops up t' bite you. Hold onto your muzzle when Ah tell you
what we pay for this work."

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Who was trying to persuade who here? I sat back in the couch and had to
suppress a snicker. Then let it out. "Okay, I can see it," I giggled. "Secret agent
meerkat. Agent double-O six-and-a-half; not tall enough, you said. With a license
to draw hot tigresses. Shake that tail, fur girl, don't stir it. Or was it stirred not
shaken? I don't remember. Hee hee hee. I'm sorry, Derrick, but this is funny. I
march in here ready to talk myself into a anxiety-stricken pretzel to get access to
Jamati, on whatever terms possible, and he puts a good job in front of me. That
would make Jamati a coworker. I won't turn it down. Seriously, I could use some
part-time income. I graduate in about six months and it'd be helpful to have a
buffer during the job search. Where do I sign? It's a dangerous fun 'n dancing 'n
party-filled job but somebody's got to do it." Snicker.
Derrick shifted in his chair and reached into an outside jacket pocket,
then pulled out what looked like an ordinary hand compslate. He flicked it on,
then slid my ID along one side. "Since there's gonna be some physical trainin' t'
teach you some of our sneakier technique--along with prayers you'll never need
it--enjoy your snickerin' while it lasts. Lessee now, where'd Personnel hide those
damn forms? C'mon, network, don't hold out on me..." He peered intently at the
small device as he tapped on the screen with a claw.
"Grew up pure tomboy with two brothers, one almost as big as you, the
other inclined to pick on me. I learned a lot about fighting," I said mildly. "I'm
more than halfway there as far as training goes. Helps if you can lose your fear at
being hit. And can find in you the urge to hit back harder. What is it about
country air that makes people fight? Somebody real smart made sure PE in junior
high had a section on boxing, for both the girls and the boys. Later on that came
in a lot handier for the girls than the boys."
"Heh. Y' don't need to draw a picture. Me, Ah tried out for wrestling one
time, then found out how deadly serious everybody was. Ouch, mah tail, mah fur,
mah ears. Switched to karate soon after. Less pain."
"I hear you. Tails are too vulnerable, thank you Bill for teaching me
that."
Derrick held up the compslate. "Found it. Let's just make this a pro forma
application for now just t' get it into Personnel's pipeline, and we'll pick it up in a
day or so. Last part is what we want heah, th' consent for a security check." A
claw pressed on a tiny button on the top edge and a touch keyboard panel popped
partway out the side, then was pulled out all the way to lock. Derrick held the
compslate out to me.
I took it and set it on the table and studied the form. As compslates go, it
was an expensive unit, about the size and thickness of a large paperback; screens
this good weren't cheap. Beyond doubt the thing could eat my laptop for lunch
and not even burp.
Okay, first a thumbprint and my PIN to authorize the data that been
sucked off the card. Done. That automatically filled in most of the form. Some
questions about job history... not much to say; just part-time student work back
home. Some medical questions. Authorization to access medical data. Any past
legal entanglements? Nope. Any military experience? Nope. Any security
training? Nope. Why do you want to work at Layers...?
"Why do I want to work at Layers? To give a naked beautiful tigress
furry snuggles 'n tongue-filled smooches till dawn and to wear my fingers down
drawing her butt. Something tells me I shouldn't write that."
Derrick was finishing off his beer, and I got the pleasure of seeing him
snort loudly and try to cough at the same time; a bit of beer foam sprayed.
"Please don't, funny meerkat," he growled, wiping at a few flecks on his tie.
"How's about just, ''Ah think Ah could have an aptitude for th' job.' That has th'
minor virtue of bein' true whether we're talkin' about tigress smoochin' or security
work."
"Touche," I chuckled, typing some more. "Although even my wildest
fantasies never got to the point of imagining being paid to kiss Jamati. Gotta
admit, that would be quite the career track. Gigolo meerkat for hire. Tigress

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smooches our specialty. See our price list of reasonable hourly rates. Satisfaction
guaranteed or your tiger purring cheerfully refunded."
Derrick laughed, and put down his empty beer. "Ah think y've got a lil'
truth in advertising problem with that idea."
"Just have to make sure the lights are out, the blinds are drawn, then a
little sleight-of-hand to buckle on an extraordinarily realistic strap-on. She'll
never know the difference. Say, this thing got some graphics software on it? I just
thought of something to sketch."
"Oh no 'y don't, artist. No tigress porn on mah compslate, if y' please.
Not unless y' want a certain wolf fur sysadmin t' chew both our tails off. And not
in the good way Ah sometimes fantasize about. You have your tigress. With me
it's wolf furs, ah-wooo. But Ah digress."
Here was the legalese about the security check. Bleagh. But I read it
carefully. "Both top predators. I can empathize," I said absently, then typed in a
reference to the college. Come Monday I'd need to send a note to the admin
office. "To make up for the shortage of models, we students sometimes got in a
few sessions. So when Karl did it--wolf fur, night-dark coat, fantastic tail--it was
hilarious how every prey fur, male or female, turned in work that smoked,
erotically speaking, compared to the rest of us predators who just sketched a nude
lupine.
Saaay. While were on th subject of posters heah Derrick grinned,
and licked around his muzzle.
Down, raccoon, I snickered, then looked up. One of the mouse fur
girls in the class dropped some insight. In between drooling. Predator's are
supposed to hunt and eat prey. It's what they do. And there's damn little the prey
can do about that when a predator's hungry enough. That's not going to happen
between furs, but all the lethal hardware and all the hungry predatory signals are
definitely all still there. So instead of being scared shitless at being killed, most
prey furs tend to displace that into horny. This explains a few things about mouse
fur girls. As in, why they're almost constantly so. In the wild, mousies are pretty
much everybody's prey."
"Hmmm. Ah had a mouse fur boyfriend once. Th' word insatiable didn't
even come close," Derrick murmured, rubbing his muzzle. "Bunny furs similar.
Some fur stereotypes are just bang on target, aren't they?"
I finished, called up my digital signature out the ID card data, and
dropped it into place. Then punched save. "Some are completely the truth. Same
thing's at work in us. You and I are middle predators, so a prey furs likely to
look at us and shiver a bit. But when we meet a top predator, now the back of our
head wakes up and screams, Run Away. In your case wolf, in my case tigress--or
a big-boobed lioness--but either way runnin' is the last thing we do. Unless it's
straight at 'em. And/or, running away to provoke a chase and a gleeful pounce.
One bunny girl I knew got a huge kick out of that. Then I chucked her into our
pond and there was a whole lot of splashing."
A dark eyebrow rose. "So growin' up in the country wasn't a total
drought for you."
"As close to. Worse, that was one incredibly dangerous skinny-dippin'
episode. My brother Bill got suspicious, followed us, and the light of the full
moon gave him a splendid view. Which raises some questions about the kind of
kink in his head if he stayed out for an hour and half watching his little sister and
a hot bunny go at it. Phenomenally romantic night, one I'll always remember and
treasure--I really ought to do some sketches of that--but Christ, I got a scare the
day after Kathy left. Beyond doubt Bill had blackmail on his mind. Older bigger
brother Jack might've put a spike in that later on. I'd like to know about that
sometime."
I also wanted to stop talking about this right now. How had we stumbled
onto this? Oh right: I opened my fool muzzle. I picked up the compslate and held
it out to Derrick. I didn't drop the thing but my hand was trembling.

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Scare? Duh. Wotta understatement. Stark-staring terror was more like it,
the likes of which I hope I never have to feel again. Considering the trench it had
dug in my brain.
Derrick couldn't miss the trembling if he was blind as a bat. He reached
out and just held the compslate. But didn't take it.
"You're in Atlanta, you're in Layers, all that is in th' past, and nuthin',
repeat, nuthin' bad is gonna happen to y' heah," Derrick said in a low intense
voice, his eyes locked on mine. "Principle reason for sayin' that is you're now
part of a large team of folk who're highly dedicated to makin' sure nuthin' bad
happens to anybody. We all cover each other tails. And if some night you feel
like goin' splashin' yours in one of th' big hot tubs upstairs with a whole damn
cheerleader squad of bunny furs--you think you got a fetish for dress-up? Whoo
hoo, Ah got news for you--then not only is it completely all right, but you c'n be
guaranteed that Bill is never gonna find out. An' if he does, Ah know a couple of
wolf fur twin sisters who're into leather who can probably persuade him to shut
up. Dunno how much coat he'll have left, though; takes some real work t' make a
whip have any effect on a fur, y' know?"
"No, I didn't know," I said in a strangled voice. Which was prelude to
letting go of the compslate and then just about dying from laughter with my head
between my knees.
"For f-fuck's sake, Derrick!! I can't draw that!!" I whooped, barely able
to breath. "Well actually I could, since you've just firmly planted the mental
picture of B-B-Bill in wolfess femdom bondage! Did you say twins? Oh Lord,
meerkat piss all over the place. Although from what little I know about femdom
stuff that would depend on if what they clamped onto him would let him do that.
Hee hee hee. Oh jeeze, the look on his face..."
Further the meerkat saith not since she was giggling too hard to speak.
This raccoon was wasted in security work. A second ago I was flashing back on
some real trauma. Now I'm laughing my tail off. How was he doing this to me?
Derrick snapped the compslate closed, then off, then got up and headed
over to the fridge as he put the compslate away. He returned with a bottle of
water. He cracked the top and held it out. The giggles dying down, I took it and
sucked on it gratefully. "Thanks," I gasped, then guzzled some more. "You're not
leaving much for a real therapist to do, you know."
Derrick shrugged. "Y' get to th' boss level in this joint, y' pick up some
practical psych skills. And some real training on sexual-based problems. Helps
greatly in tryin' t' defuse 'em when they pop up around heah like dandelions on th'
lawn. All that, and some quick guesses, just came together th' right way. How old
were you when you went through that?"
"Fifteen, I giggled, but less so; had to wipe my eyes. Junior high music
exchange trip to Savannah. Boarded with Kathy and her family for four days.
And four nights. Then she came to board with us. I was in love with her for eight
days, and I mean In Love. The first night I remember clear as crystal. I was
settled into my sleeping bag on the floor. She was all set to turn out the light.
Then she looked down at me from the bed, one ear dipped. I knew she was nude
in that bed. And we did not have to say a single. Damn. Word. I got out the
sleeping bag, took off my PJs, then climbed into bed with her..."
Uh huh, and there goes my voice again. This time due to the huge lump
in my throat. Had I loved her that much, such that even after all this time I could
feel like this? So it would seem. I was going to start tearing up in another minute,
I could feel it. To stop it, I took another deep drink. Not that helpful.
Derrick settled himself onto the couch beside me. "Then Bill pissed all
over it," he said quietly.
Flare of anger. Rage. White hot. I almost punctured the water bottle with
my claws. "Yes!" I hissed through clenched fangs. "Oh boy did he ever. I wanted
to pursue it, stay in touch with her. Go to Savannah on a weeks vacation when
school ended. Then later she could spend a week with us on her vacation. Irony

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of ironies, Momma liked her. Said she had spunk for a city bunny. Instead,
chopped off like with a knife."
I glanced at Derrick. "I may have had a closer call than might seem. As
terrified and angry as I was at Bill, at what he was denying me, if I'd honestly
believed he'd been about to talk there might have been a knife in him. I was not a
sane meerkat for a few days. The idea that that was the only way to stop him
came very close to the surface. Then I got a phone call from Kathy; had to keep it
all from her, of course. Which snapped me out of it. Barely. Then nothing
happened and life continued. How about that? I came close to killing my brother.
Have to think it's a good thing your application form doesn't ask about that,
hmmm? As for telling you, you're owed hearing it. Whatever else happens
around here."
Thirsty work, telling your darkest secrets to a raccoon. I finished the rest
of the bottle, then put it down on the table. Derrick had reverted to full pondering
mode. It took him a while.
"Ah think... th' take-home message heah is y' didn't kill him," Derrick
said slowly. "Despite unusual provocation. Ah'll also say that if Ah'm gonna hire
a person t' do security work, Ah'd rather hire somebody who's capable of killin' in
self-defense than somebody who ain't. Your mental state aside, y've at least faced
th' question. Not many folks do. You describe a situation that approaches th' legal
definition of self-defense. But not quite. To get a jump on your trainin', y' need
two things. One, an imminent and intentional threat of lethal harm, such that any
reasonable person would agree that you're in legitimate fear of bein' snuffed.
Sometimes there's a loophole on th' intentional part. And two: any reasonable
person would agree that you've got t' kill t' save your own life or you're th' one
that's done for. There ain't any other way out."
I had to pause at that. "Ah. I see your point. I had a way out. Could've
just run away."
"Would a reasonable person agree? Maybe not. You were in th' country.
Your Momma might've just hunted y' down. And from that shiver y' just gave off
Ah hear th' echo of nightmares. Bill wasn't an imminent and intentional threat.
But his talking might've been th' proximate cause that launched such a threat.
Does law give y' th' right to off him in order t' block that? Only if there's clear
evidence he would talk, clear evidence he wanted lethal harm t' happen, and clear
evidence he knew that talkin' would be totally certain t' send a homicidal meerkat
mother at your throat. All that adds up to 'bout th' same as if he had a loaded
shotgun t' your head. Course, provin' all that in court would call for heavy liftin'
on th' part of your legal weasels. Any of that fit your brother?"
"Absolutely none of it. Bill was guilty only of walking while sadistically
stupid. But as for believing I was in fear for my life, that I could prove in court
standing on my head."
Derrick snickered. "Judge'll look at you funny for that. But Ah take your
meaning."
I settled back into the couch and closed my eyes. "But that won't be
necessary 'cause nothing happened," I murmured. "But it was always there,
unspoken, between him and me. I honestly doubt I can forgive him for it. Day I
left, I think maybe, just maybe, he might have apologized, if he'd had the guts.
Could see something in his eyes that told me he knew I'd never come back. The
last time he'd ever see me. Any of them. That was the hardest fuckin' day of my
life."
No, I didn't quite cry. That day was burned into me. Not enough Bactine
in the universe to heal it either. But didn't quite not cry.
"'Scuse me a sec." A loud meerkat-muzzle-sized <Honk!> followed as I
deployed the handkerchief for its intended purpose. Just think: if I was dressed as
a woman I'd be half an hour digging in my purse for some tissue. Convenience,
gotta love it.
"All right, now we're outta mah pay grade," Derrick said, as I dealt with a
residual sniffle, then returned the handkerchief to pocket. "Families, families,

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families. Gay, lesbian straight, whoever: everybody's got somethin' tangled goin'
on. Although your troubles dont sound that particularly far out on th' curve, to
be honest. Momma Nature's cruel joke: causin' all of us t' have to come t' grips
with sex at a time when we're hardly smart enough t' chew gum. Not fair, Ah
say.
Derrick stood up and crossed his arms, then tapped fingers on an arm as
he thought about what to say next. Then threw up his hands.
Arrgh! he growled. Nights too short. Lets just say of course comin'
out's gonna be a mess. When straight kids wake up t' how their crotches function,
just as much a mess for most of them too. So now heah y' are: you're older,
you're independent, you're much smarter, all of which makes y' a shitload readier
to come out to them than you were at fifteen. How? Dunno. Y' got unfinished
business with them, is all. And hey, what's your Momma gonna do? Kick you
out? Come after you? Good luck after we've trained you. Keep in mind, if y'
show up at their front door with a certain tigress in tow, Jamati can just pick your
Momma up by th' scruff an' let her dangle there until she calms down."
I promptly convulsed, pulling my knees up. "Oh jeeze, there he goes
again!" I giggled. "How can I not laugh at that? Or keep from drawing it? The
idea of Jamati meeting my parents has been twisting my tail into knots over the
past six weeks; real fantasy-killer. Not any more. Hee hee hee. Let's put some
leather on her too. Oh Bi-ll...?"
Derrick blinked. "Oooo. Jamati as dominatrix. Ah've never seen her do
that. If you show up some night with a cute 'lil collar around your neck Ah
suppose we'll know what happened. Pussy-slave."
"Meowrr," I gulped. "No, I don't think I've drawn her looking like a dom.
Yet. Although since we're on the topic, turnabout is fair pussy-slave play. What
would she look like in a collar? Here, Jamati, put on this harem girl outfit and
hold still while I drool and draw at the same time. I'm versatile, remember?"
"Not t' make you fill th' room but she has worn that. Then belly-danced
up a storm. Shes had real dance trainin, well beyond what she got as a kid."
"Whimper."
"Thought y'd say that."
Lord, for all the stress youve put me through over the past six weeks, at
least I can say Ive come through tonight in fair to good shape. Youre owed
some qualified gratitude. Apart from the fact that I know whos responsible for
the past six weeks. I put my muzzle in my hands and rubbed, then looked up at
Derrick, clear-eyed.
"I'll say something else, Derrick: yes, I've had tigers on the brain over the
past six weeks, I said calmly. But I know enough about how this has worked.
Oddly, my extensive experience with crushes has made this a lot easier. The
fantasies have all stayed inside the box, except for the ones slipping out a very
narrow hole and onto paper. Meaning in my judgment I am at close-to-zero risk
of making a jerk of myself when I meet her. My first words to Jamati will not be
buh-buh-buh. Ah am the gentleman.
Ahll resist the temptation to let out a good snort at that. But Ah take
your meaning.
Uh huh. When or if that gets modified by the word 'lesbian,' I'm still
gonna be that way. You have my word. There's more at stake for me here than
any hopes of making the words pussy-slave operational. Or to put it differently, I
think I'll prefer to hold off trying to seduce a tigress until I've got some clear idea
of whether she's even remotely seducible. What, me? An overambitious artist?
Nahhh. And you never know: she might just turn me down flat."
Derrick got that funny look on his face again. Seemed like he was trying
not to laugh? "Oh. Yeah. Y' never know," he said faintly. "We'll just have t' see
what we'll see, won't we?" Now what the heck was that about?

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Backstage Pass (v3) -- 2009 Fred Brown, Kevin Trott fwbrown@nb.sympatico.ca

Didn't get the chance to ask. Derrick glanced at his watch. "Ah'll take y'
at your word, artist meerkat, and hold y' to it. By your tail if necessary. We'll be
talkin' more about this next week; th' security check should be done by
Wednesday. Ah'll call you. In th' meantime Ah've got work t' do and Jamati's on
for her next show in about twenty minutes. Ah'll not keep y' from that, if only on
th' grounds there'd be a meerkat-sized hole through me if Ah tried."
I pushed off the couch and stood up as Derrick bent down to pick up the
art. He folded it into a jacket pocket. "Ah may be able t' show this to her tonight,
just t' get her attention. Full briefing tomorrow when we're both better rested."
"No rush," I said. "Waited this long. Waiting a little longer is no stretch.
And thank you. Greatly and sincerely. I've been trying to keep the expectations
bolted down so tight I'm bending the torque wrench. Now this is beginning to go
right. What fun: now I can really start to get nervous. All the art I've done so far
is just preamble. There's real work ahead. If Jamati goes for it."
Derrick laughed, and patted me on the shoulder. "Unless one of us really
screws up y' may be lookin' at a when, not an if. Leastwise Ah'm pretty certain
she'll give y' a fair hearing. Tigress who likes t' be admired, remember. Your first
poster goes on her wall or she'll kill you."
Ah. Cheery thought there. Actually it was. And so a raccoon and a
meerkat exited the office in good order, and in good spirits, the objective being to
get on with what was turning out to be a real good night. The meerkat was the
one with the pronounced bounce in her step.
Have to think I'd earned it.

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