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 Four:

Unless one of us really screws up.

God, I swear to you, I am never going to forget those words for as long
as I live. But might have been the words that saved me? Made me desperately
determined not to screw up? Dunno. Sometimes it just comes down to the microthin margin between you screwing up and the other people screwing up just a
little bit more.
One way or another, there is no other word for it than a sonofabitch of a
close call.

It went down like this:

----

After I handed in the security badge I looked out at the crowd--there was
more of them--then made a beeline for the nearest bar on the male side of the
room. Fewer customers. That earned me an amused glance from the ambercoated wolf fur who was strutting (literally), and some curious ones from several
of the girls watching him. Gay customers were far from unknown over here.
But that wasn't me. I flagged the bartender, grabbed a glass of ice water,
tossed the wolf fur an ironic salute--you show 'em, brother--then hustled away.
The goal now was to get a good position in front of the stripper stage where
Jamati was about to dance up a storm.
I toyed briefly with the idea of going up to the bar area so I could look
down, then nah. The main stage was a meter or so higher. A small door at the
back of the stripper stage allowed Jamati to come up the steps from underneath,
then cut loose and blow us away.
You wanted to get the full benefit of that, you wanted to be dead center
right in front of her. The stripper stage was raised up about half a meter with a
wide apron to it so you couldn't get up flush with the edge. The spot I'd picked
was pretty much in the front row, as I'd been many times before. We were the
ones who gave her the most immediate feedback to her performance. Since the
viewing was excellent at this spot she got a lot of that.

Page 1 of 19

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

About ten minutes to go. I sipped on my water and looked around. To be

honest, the glass just gave my hands something to do. Although when Jamati was
done I always needed the water. A small crowd was starting to gather at the same
time as the music was easing back in volume. Above me, I saw some of the
lighting modules swivel around. Everything else would dim to make the light on
Jamati seem more so.
Taken just as a dance performance alone it was always easy to see the
pro touches that went into it. This wouldnt of the same caliber as the regular
strippers. Jamati's music would also be distinctly different from the dance track.
More crowd gathering. These shows were star attractions, in part due to
the eroticism but equally to the real dance skill that was about to be shown off.
Strippers can get away with some fairly pedestrian moves and still have a happy
audience. Jamati and her colleagues put serious art into it. There was a bunny fur
named Melanie who could almost out-hot Jamati. I prefer tigresses.
So did the two guys next to me. Or so I'd guess as one of them jostled my
elbow as he moved closer to the stage. I turned: a beefy wolf fur in jeans and
tank-top, and a bit taller than me. Bodybuilder? Out of place for Layers, dresswise. Grey fur. Seemed maybe late teens, early twenties.
"Sorry," he muttered in a slurred voice (drunk?), not sorry at all, and
moved away. His friend on the other side was a German Shepherd fur, taller
again and wiry, but not steady on his feet. Same casual outfit, Polo shirt not tanktop. Classic pattern Shepherd fur, with sandy hair.
He glanced at me, then whispered something to the wolf. They both
moved a little further away as I stared at them. Both drunk?
For whatever reason, the fur on the back of my neck rose. To quote a
British bobbie, now what's all this lot? Everybody else was near to glowing with
anticipation. An incredibly hot tigress was about to appear and knock our socks
off our footpaws.
These two are tense. And drunk? And very focused on the stage. Wolves
and German Shepherds, very close in body type, and very close in tails too. Both
were not still, flicking nervously. Our tails do give us away.
Strange vibe here, and I was reading it five by five. I took another sip of
water. Think, artist meerkat. Let's pretend you've had all that snooper training.
What do you do next?
Answer: use the comm and call Ops. There was something fishy about
these two. Don't know what, just a feeling. And they're smack in the front row for
Jamati's show. Ergo...?
Ergo, insufficient data. And no comm in my ear to get more. Such as
who are they? Could Layer's sensors ping their RFID blotches from here? If I had
a little electronic horsepower on me like Derrick's compslate I probably could.
Most important, how much have they had to drink or smoke? And where's the
nearest hulking predator fur who can tap them gently on the shoulder? Or just
stand there and irradiate them with deterrence. I was wearing the wrong suit for
once.
It was also probably a good idea to avoid them noticing I was noticing
them. I turned away to put my back to them. Ah: and over there to the right
beside the stage was a large fur in a larger suit. Another raccoon, and being as
visible as possible. Easy job. It was an unwritten rule at any strip club: don't
hassle the performers in a moment of impulsive horniness. Or somebody much
bigger than you will be instantly in your face, among other body parts.
Somebody like that guy. Just standing there was enough to reinforce that rule.
Hooold it...
My eyes narrowed. A couple of meters away from Big Raccoon were
two more furs, a pair of bloodhound type canines, and as casually dressed as my
two. Same strange vibe. They were doing a good job of ignoring the raccoon,

Page 2 of 19

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

again seemed drunk, but I could see from their body language how they were
actually not ignoring him. They were very aware of his presence. One held a
beer, then tipped it up and guzzled noisily. The level of beer in the bottle did not
go down.
I may have stumbled over the snooper's motto: What's Unusual? We're
looking for behaviour that sticks out, that might be a foreshadow for worse
behaviour that crosses the line. Unless I was hallucinating I had four Unusuals
here.
Or did I? Where was the line between Unusual and Not? Folks came to
Layers to let their fur down, to act in ways they wouldn't elsewhere. That could
be a damn tricky question at the best of times. You made your call based on
vapour for evidence, meaning it could be something real or it could be a false
positive. Decide, and decide fast. I think I could see how the snoopers would be
well paid.
Then it clicked: I knew these guys. Or knew their type. Students. That's
what they were. Wasn't I surrounded by fellows just like these eight hours a day,
five days a week? Not that the jocks at an art college exactly conformed to
stereotype but when they took to the basketball court you couldn't tell the
difference. Students where, was the next question. Three universities in the
Atlanta area. Not important right now.
Casually, oh-so-casually, I turned back and studied my two characters
out of the corner of my eye. Maybe I did have some aptitude for this job. Okay,
Shepherd had a basketball-ish feel to him. Wolf Fur almost certainly a football
player? The two over by Big Raccoon, indeterminate. Soccer, perhaps. Looked
like good runners.
Was Derrick's paranoia contagious? Thats probably an occupational
hazard for security work. But are we paranoid enough? Assumption: these four
were students and they were connected. And they were actively faking
intoxication. Speculation: there's a coordinated plan afoot. Inference: it involves
Jamati. They're not in front of this stage by accident.
I gotta say, the rush of real paranoia that swept over me in that instant
almost crossed my eyes. I wanted to send up flares, pull every fire alarm, trigger
the sprinklers, and launch all silos in every direction. It involves Jamati!!
The dance music died down as the glow of lights brightened on the stage.
There were more under the lip of the stage that went on and shone upwards. The
show was about to start. And/or I was going insane fast enough to set an all-time
American Psychiatric Association record. Do snoopers get points for pouncing
on possibly innocent wolf and Shepherd furs? If any, probably posthumously.
These two could turn me into a rapidly expanding cloud of meerkat fur just by
sneezing.
Again the eyes-glancing-to-the-side thing (I am good at this) as I sipped
my water and assessed them carefully. On the other hand, Jack 'n Bill had more
than taught me some of the strategies for dealing with two opponents at the same
time. Painful learnin', of course. Knew it already, but Derrick had made a true
point: surprise is a force multiplier. If two larger opponents are faced with one
smaller one they can be profitably confused when the small one attacks like a
psychotic hurricane on mad pills.
You can only fight what you expect to fight. That turns out to be
something else, you tend to lose a lot of your forward momentum. Further
assumption: these two beside me were not counting on a battle tonight. Nor
would I have to win it either, just hold 'em to a draw. There was a reserve army
standing about eight meters to my right. From the size of him, two.
I shook my head. Crap. I think I was going insane. I gulped more water.
Derrick had intimated that it's the suits who do the fighting, not the snoopers, on
the rare occasion when it has to be done. And only when actual violence has
broken out, not just because a meerkat is spooking herself sideways. And then
likely with only one goal in mind: immobilize the combatants as quickly and as
safely as possible. Taser with your beer, sir? Safely. Big keyword there.

Page 3 of 19

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

You learn anything about fighting, you will learn just how easily you can
do serious damage if you put your mind to it. Or worse, damage by accident as a
shot goes either off target or harder than you intend. It's not like your opponent is
exactly cooperating with you. Let's not forget that most furs are stronger and
tougher and naturally better armed than regular humans. But I was guaranteed to
be faster. I was thinking dangerous thoughts here.
Sideways glance. Scratch the battle. They had to make a move before I
could make a move. I needed to think of something other than a scream and leap
to block that move. Assuming they were going to actually move. What I had to
know was what that move would be, and when, so I could know what move to
make to stop it. But I'd only find that out when they moved. And around and
around we go. And how did those other two students fit in? Ouch, my head.
Derrick, you're not paying me enough.
That was all punted aside as the lights rose up to full. Different music
came on: a deep bass beat, something exotically crossed between Arabic and
Western. A clue to what we were in for, dance-wise. The door at the back of the
stage slid open along with the panel in the floor over the steps.
Then over the music, a DJs voice: "And now, ladies and gentlmels,
Layers would like you to give your attention to our special stage. There's a good
reason for that. As we give you... Jamati!"
We'll take her.
A tall female figure walked calmly up the steps and into the light, then
stepped around the stripper pole to the center of the stage. Clearly female due to
the curves and the pretty footpaws, but more of her we couldn't see through the
sari-like veiled wrap that surrounded her body and arms and head. Her toeclaws
were gilded in gold.
But we could see her eyes. Green, green, glittering green. Hunter eyes,
glowing at us incandescent, helped by the lighting, which only made me think of
what they'd look like in the dimness of a bedroom. Might've been the effect
Jamati was going for.
Music changed: wailing violin and strong guitars as the bass and
percussion strengthened to a driving beat. Strong dance coming up. Jamati
unwrapped the veil around her head and began to move. I felt as much as heard
the crowd sigh, male and female alike.
A tiger goddess is what we had here tonight, gold adorning her raven hair
and round ears, an array of chain and bright jingly coins. Lips a glistening red.
More gold chain around her neck. The blunt muzzle and the fierce pattern of
stripes had somehow been made delicate, deeply feminine. I'd like to know how
she did that.
Then I forgot the question completely as Jamati went into the dance in
earnest, pure belly dance movement, the sari around her slowly unwrapping.
Actually, we were less in the Middle East here than smack in the heart of the
Punjab. Think of a dusky Hindu temple dancer offering up ritual erotic dance to
the god of the tigers.
Saving that the god had noticed her, and she'd been transformed into a
tiger. More sari unwound; there were her breasts. Hello, nipple jewelry. Drool.
Hello also belly button jewelry and complicated chains around her waist.
In short, another few moments and it would be nude tigress in gold
holding the banner of a sheer sari in her hands, and then she'd really pump up the
volume. Hindu temples don't come with stripper poles--tsk, wotta oversight--but
the one here was about to get tested. I'd noticed how Jamati's dancing always
followed a curve, going up in intensity until you could barely breath. Fifteentwenty minutes of dance never seemed like it. Probably because Jamati made you
lose track of time.
Another click: time. Two furry not-drunks beside me didn't have much
time. They moved soon or they missed their window. And they would wait until
everybody was absolutely mesmerized by Jamati. Surprise.

Page 4 of 19

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

Almost everybody. I risked a fast direct glance. Drunk act was gone, all
right. They were alert, their tails straight and fur almost standing up. On a hair
trigger (sorry). And Wolf Fur was doing the glance thing too, but didn't see me,
instead his eyes flicking past towards Big Raccoon and his two shadows. Four
students were going to move, not two. Two at Jamati and two at Big Raccoon. I
wasn't sure who had the more hazardous mission.
I followed the wolf's gaze. Yup. Two canine furs alert and on point, so to
speak. Team A to distract Big Raccoon, then run like hell. Giving Team B maybe
ten seconds of confusion to do whatever they were going to do. Did they expect
to escape too? If they really surprised both Jamati and the rest of security, maybe.
Speculation: They've made a guesstimate about the response times and
capabilities of Layer's security system, and whether they could get to an exit.
And decided it was doable. But to do what?
Seriously loud click: it was the dogs who would move first. That would
be Wolf and Shepherd's cue to... to... to either stand here and do something, or
charge the stage and try and do something to/with/at Jamati. What, grab a nipple
jewelry trophy? Steal two kisses? Invite her to a cotillion? With all this
sneakiness these guys couldn't be playing for penny-ante stakes. Take it as fact:
they were going for the stage. In that case, ignore Team A.
Later after it was all over I'd spare a moment to marvel at how damned
fast I was thinking. And also at how much hot adrenaline came outta nowhere to
help me with what I was about to do. A plan had come together in something
under a microsecond. It was a neat plan. It was pretty low-risk. And it would
shock their fuckin' scruffy ears clean off them.
Did I sound angry there? There was some of that on top of the adrenalin.
At the very least, they were making me miss Jamati's show. Could only hope
somebody would have to taser 'em.
I moved the glass to my right hand to free my left. And moved back just
a bit to get out of Wolf Fur's line of sight. That put me in Shepherd's peripheral
vision, but he was more focused on the wolf. Then the stage. Then the wolf. Who
was wholly focused on Team A. His ears pricked up.
I risked a quick look. Ohhh damn, I was right, all the way down the line!
Team A was fighting over the beer! I saw Big Raccoon's eyes swing over to them
just as a well-aimed spume of beer foam hit him square in the muzzle by
accident.
Cue!!
And I was almost too late as Wolf Fur's muzzle turned back, his arms
came up, and he began to go into a crouch that would end in a big leap onto...
"YEEEOOOWWWW!!!"
<WHUMP-THUMP!!>
Gotcha!!
Slo-mo replay. Beautiful tail on Wolf Fur, to tell the truth. Real easy to
grab onto, just as his legs pushed off to send him into the air. I knew how to do
this to Bill. He'd done it to me often enough. Guaranteed it hurt. Good.
But even better was what I knew would happen upon letting go!
It happened: Wolf Fur lost his balance, flailed uselessly, then fell flat on
his muzzle with that wonderfully satisfying whump-thump. God, I hope the folks
in Ops were getting all this on vid. Now I had about three free seconds...
As I turned to face Shepherd Fur who'd interrupted his leap to turn
towards me. Ah, that lovely look of shock. Replaced by instant rage as his hands
came up.
"CATCH!!" I shouted gleefully, and chucked the glass of water at him.

Page 5 of 19

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

In that moment I knew he wasn't a fighter. If he had been one he would

have walked through the harmless water and begun breaking me. But we all have
the same reflex. Something coming at my vulnerable muzzle. Duck.
And even a trained fighter would still flinch a little at the sploosh of
precisely aimed icy liquid that got the Shep right in the snoot. Sorry it wasn't
beer, buddy. All of which gave me plenty of time to kick him hard, just above his
right knee.
"AHHHH!!" Shepherd screamed and stumbled backwards, clutching at
his leg. On his knee would have smashed it. Above it was almost as good,
paralyzing and painful. Now I had another three free seconds.
I spun around. Wolf Fur had been stunned by his fall, but was over that
and was rising up on his hands and knees.
It's the championship game. Fourth quarter, fourth down, and eight
seconds on the clock. We really need this field goal, meerkat.
<POWIE!!>
Right between the uprights. That is to say, Wolf Fur's ass. Of course I've
played football. Hasn't everybody in the South?
The results were gratifying. Wolf Fur howled with pain and flew forward
to smack his muzzle on the lip of the stage. He moaned, then slid down the apron
and collapsed. Turn back fast to Shepherd...
The strategy was just alternate between them and keep them apart and off
balance, and most crucially not in a position to rush me. This could fail the first
time one of them got a clear shot at me. The crowd around us recoiled away from
the battle so I had some room to fall back, but not much. Big Raccoon, get that
beer outta your face and get over here fast.
Because a wet angry German Shepherd fur had decided a rush was a
good idea and was limping quickly towards me, fangs bared and arms wide. I'd
kinda hoped he would. Since I knew which leg was weakest.
Just like Jack and I practiced, I took one step forward, then was inside of
Shepherd's guard faster than he could see, grabbed an arm, rammed a hip into his,
then turned and heaved to use his momentum in a way he could not control.
<WHAM!!>
Shepherd up, Shepherd down. Don't they ever tell big guys that small
guys--or girls--can sometimes have a very easy time doing that? What are they
teaching in the schools these days?
By this time Jamati had stumbled to a halt, muzzle open and in about as
much shock as the rest of the crowd at the sudden combat that had erupted to
replace dance. Although that throw did get a few cheers. Shepherd was on the
ground, on his back and gasping. He'd be back up in a second--big guys rarely
stay down--but worry about that in a second.
I whirled around to find Wolf Fur up on his knees and shaking his head.
He was facing the stage.
I had a remedy for that. I took two big steps that put me behind him,
cupped my palms, then slammed them into his ears. Risky shot; too hard and
there could be damage. You hardly ever get to try this move in a genuine fight.
Since this wasn't really one I'll use it.
It was effective enough for this meerkat. Wolf Fur howled again, in
serious pain this time as he clapped his hands to his ears and fell over on his side.
He had to be starting to wonder just what the hell he was up against. Since it
seemed to be so good at hurting him.

Page 6 of 19

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

The fight was starting to go out of Shepherd too. He was not fast trying
to sit up, propped on his arms and breathing hard. The way he looked at me,
seemed like he was trying to decide whether or not staying on the ground was the
better idea. I readied myself to knock him down again. Right leg, put your weight
on your right leg, pleeease.
No, he wasn't going to quit just yet. He had to favour his right leg, but he
propped himself up on one arm and...
That's an odd note. The way he moved, something else suddenly hurt
too--saw him wince--then he moved his legs to clear it(?).
Then sank back down as a beer-soaked raccoon suddenly loomed over
him. An overlooked skill, looming. "Two words, dog: Stop. That," Big Raccoon
growled loudly. I may have heard a very puppy-like whine come from Shepherd.
Wolf Fur looked up and his ears went dead flat in submission.
But to my left, more important were the two equally large furs in suits
who were hustling quickly towards me. Lion and horse. Uh oh. I'd almost
certainly looked like the aggressor. I couldn't help but raise my hands as I turned
and took a step backwards.
Did you know, no bar or club uses real glass glasses? Or bottles. It's all
unbreakable plastic and you can't tell the difference. Why do I say this?
'Cause when you take a step and tromp on one you don't get a crunch.
Something else happens.
"WAAAA-HAAAA!!"
One foot flew out in front of me, the other failed miserably to stay on the
ground and, arms windmilling, I hurtled backwards in a picture-perfect pratfall
for the stage behind me.
I didn't get there. Two arms grabbed me around the chest and caught me.
Two orange n black striped arms. And held on tight. Gleep.
"Ah do declare, a handsome meerkat has just fallen into my arms,"
Jamati purred in my ear. "I wonder if they'll let me keep him."
Mega-gleep. Well, it wasn't a buh-buh-buh. So far so good.
I turned my head, which put us about nose-to-nose. Jamati was smiling.
Oh, but those green eyes. I smelled sweaty tigress; lovely.
"They were going to rush the stage, weren't they?" Jamati said quietly.
"Saw enough of it. Very brave of you. And not a scratch on you. Good job.
Derrick had better give you a bonus for tonight or I'll take his ears."
Then to Lion and Horse: "He's one of us. I've got him. And you're not
getting him back." Arms hugged as I heard a kittenish giggle that shouldn't come
out of someone this lethal.
The two big furs looked at each other. "So that's how to get into her bed:
beat somebody up," Lion joked.
"I've got it, Horse said dryly. I beat you up, then when she's done with
me you beat me up and take your turn. Do we have a deal?"
Jamati just laughed and stuck her tongue out at them. She'd jumped to a
conclusion; fine by me. I was suddenly profoundly aware that I was in the arms
of a naked tigress. Who was at least somewhat on my side. Not how I'd ever
thought our introduction would go.
I'm not that good at fantasizing.
The lights above the main stage had come on high, the music dead. I
looked around. Where did...?

Page 7 of 19

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

"Hey! Raccoon!" I barked. "Call Ops now!! The two guys who hit you
with a beer, the two canine furs. They're part of this. Somebody find 'em fast! My
guess is they're headed for the street at flank speed."
Jamati lifted me up onto my feet, then stepped down off the stage beside
me. Blithely naked. Well, I did miss her show; this'll do.
Big Raccoon was bending over Wolf fur and helping him to his feet. His
head came up to look at me. "What? Oh ho, those two. Oh yah, I would like to
see them again. Messed up my suit."
And just like you'd see a Secret Service type do in a movie, Big Raccoon
lifted up his left hand and spoke rapidly and low into his wrist. "Priority, priority,
gates down, repeat, gates down. All stations, locate and detain. Description: two
canine furs..." I missed the rest. I noticed that Raccoon's other hand did not let go
of Wolf Fur's arm.
"Report," the lion said crisply, amber eyes going straight to mine. I knew
an officer when I heard an order. I began to open my mouth...
I was cut off. "Oh, hell yes, report!! This fight's gonna get a reeeal close
look!" The snarl that came from past Big Raccoon and the wolf almost stopped
my heart. Did Derrick have teleport powers too? I'd left him in the Ops room.
He wasn't there now. Derrick stepped over the Shepherd's legs (he wisely
stayed down) and loomed over me as Lion and Horse fell back. They must train
for the looming thing.
Derrick pulled on my arm to get us out earshot of the wolf and the
Shepherd. Jamati and the lion followed as Horse went to scrape up the Shepherd
and stand him up beside Big Raccoon and the wolf.
Derrick bent down as I looked up. I saw fangs. "Artist meerkat, Ah hope
Ah didn't put any dumb ideas into your furball-filled head," he hissed, a
millimeter from my muzzle. "Looks bad on me. Although if Ah've seriously
misjudged you that looks even worse. What in th' Sam fuckin' Hill do y' think
you're doin'?"
Beside me, I could almost hear Jamati's ears try to take off for orbit.
"Artist?" she squeaked. "You mean he's not a snooper?"
"If he'd waited a week until Ah was done hirin' him he would be,"
Derrick growled. "But nooo. Damn it, meerkat, you're not under our jeezly
insurance yet. Ah've heard of jumpin' th' gun but this is plumb ridiculous."
Best defense is a good offense. "Hi boss. Is this a good time to ask for a
raise?" I grinned. "Think I just found a hole in your security system." Now there's
chutzpah for you.
It stopped him cold. Angry went instantly to boggled. "What?" Derrick
and Jamati said together, then double-taked.
Keep going. "Maybe you've thought of this, maybe not. But I've thought
of it now. And acted on it. If I'm wrong I deserve to be chomped. So I'd better
prove I'm right, hmmm? If you'll let me."
Put that way I'd boxed him in. I could see he didn't like it. "Talk, and talk
good 'n fast, artist," Derrick growled. "Ah'll decide if you're right or not."
Jamati wasnt over her own boggled, both eyebrows up almost to her
ears. "Artist," she said weakly. "Really. Good thing he wasn't packing a pen,
then. He might have killed them."
Lion snorted in amusement. "Don't rightly think he needed one. Hired or
not, a pro job, Derrick. Two down, nobody hurt bad, least of all him. When he
should've been. I could feel redundant."
Derrick blinked at that. Which allowed me to turn to Jamati. "Kyle Perry,
artist meerkat--student, actually--and defender of naked beautiful tigresses, at

Page 8 of 19

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

your service," I said smoothly. At the same time I reached for her right hand to
lean forward and kiss it, the suavely perfect gentlemel. Pure impulse, done
without thinking or a breath of hesitating. Damn, but there must've been
something in that gumbo.
I straightened up, then looked her up and down, smiling. "Mind you,
you're really just about the last naked beautiful tigress who needs any defending
whatsoever, but hey, I gotta stay in practice, y'know?"
Where was I getting all these good lines tonight? Never mind, so long as
I can keep 'em coming.
Of course it worked. Jamati threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, have
you got manners or what?" she giggled. "I get done my show, most guys can
barely talk for wanting to pounce so bad; all but have to hose them down. I'm
pleased to see there's at least one exception to this rule."
I still had her hand. I rubbed my thumb over the back of it. "We-ll, if you
really feel like hosing me down, far be it from me to stop you," I purred. "So long
as I can return the favour."
"Oooo. I walked into that one, didn't I? So you just decided to jump those
two. Spur of the moment."
I looked around. The crowd had come for dancing, but from the look of
them the floor show was just as entertaining. The stunned on Derrick's face was
pretty fun too.
"No," I said quietly, and let go of her hand. "Been hanging around here
for weeks. Art-wise, you've kinda caught my eye. Christ, is that a honker of an
understatement. I was just in the right place at the right time. And they weren't.
Somebody in Training is probably going to tell me that's a large part of how good
security works. Assuming a certain raccoon lets me in to take it."
"Assumin' indeed," Derrick growled. But I could see I was digging
myself out; a little glimmer of respect in his eyes.
"Show her the art, Derrick."
"...What?"
"You got a better time than now?"
"Um. Okay. Then we talk serious security. What hole?"
"Deal. A subtle one. To complete the story, we need two more canine
furs who I hope didn't get away. Big Raccoon called it in."
Derrick reached into his jacket and pulled out two pieces of paper,
unfolded, then handed them to a very curious Jamati.
Who gasped. That brought Lion around to get a look. He whistled. "Say,
this guy does have some skill with a pen," he said.
"One of these days I've got to do something really great, y'know?" I
whispered to Derrick.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What happened? he growled. From all Ah heard a
well-dressed meerkat suddenly went freak-out and started smackin' a Shep an' a
wolf around. And quite successfully at that."
"Let's clear that up." I pointed to Wolf and Shepherd who were nervously
standing there flanked by Horse and Big Raccoon. That would do it to me. "First
thing, whip out your magic compslate. I assume it can ping RFIDs. Find out how
much they had to drink. Then I'll tell you how much they had to drink."
Derrick's eyes narrowed as he looked at Shepherd and Wolf; they quailed
a little. The compslate came out, Derrick flicked on, tapped on the screen for a
second, then waved it at the two furs.

Page 9 of 19

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

Then studied the screen. "So?" he said, looking up at me.

"They had either nothing but soft drinks, or at most only one beer."
"Correct. Shepherd had one beer. Meaning what?"
"So they're not drunk in the slightest?"
"Not by this data."
"So why were they acting drunk?" I said softly. "The instant I saw 'em,
instant first impression: toxed to the gills, or mostly. But on second impression
saw clearly they weren't. They were tense and alert, in a crowd where everybody
else was anticipating a naked beautiful tigress. And faking drunk. What did we
say about camouflage? I may or may not know a lot about that, but I was sure
sensitive enough to their camouflage."
Jamati spoke up, still staring at picture #1. "Derrick, I didn't see all of it
but I will back Kyle up. I saw the wolf start his lunge to take him onto the stage,
the Shepherd right beside him. But Kyle was right there behind the wolf, grabbed
his tail, and down goes a wolf. Then the Shepherd made the mistake of trying to
take a meerkat apart. Bad idea."
"Seems so," Derrick murmured, an eyebrow raised, as he looked at me.
"Right. Y' said so to mah face. A brother who taught y' fightin'. Ah should hire
more meerkats more often."
"Taught well by Jack to help me cope with Bill. It was either learn to
fight or get picked on until my tail came off. Later it was Jack teaching me more
seriously; bullies at school who targeted the small kids, like everywhere else.
Hurt him to see me come home with blood on my muzzle. First time I came
home with blood on my knuckles he welcomed me like a conquering hero."
I glanced at Shepherd and Wolf. "In principle they're out of my league.
In practice if I could control the fight they'd get more hurt than me. Felt very
familiar. Got pounded to mush a few times when I screwed it up but found most
often that when bullies take pain, realize they're gonna take more, and believe
that I don't mind takin' it, I win shortly after that."
The lion looked up from picture #2; Jamati was pretty much speechless.
"Y' know, Derrick, Sergeant Carpenter's gonna love this one when he goes
through the combat section," he said mildly. "Right attitude. For an artist. You
don't hire him, I will."
"Yeah. What he said," Jamati whispered faintly, then lowered the picture
and just stared. Then looked at it again. That was familiar.
"Ah ha!!" Big Raccoon crowed. He had an intent look on his face, a hand
up to one ear and listening to Ops, or I'd assume. "Got 'em! Two canine furs,
trying to sneak out of loading dock C. How the hell'd they get down there?"
"Yeah, what about two canine furs?" Derrick said, confused.
Big Raccoon spoke up loudly and filled in for me. "Just before the
occurrence, two drunk kids standing in front of me started fighting over the beer
one of them was holding," he said. "Foom, there's beer all over the place but most
of it up my nose. Then they vanished."
Big Raccoon looked at me. "Distraction, right? Right. So simple. One
zap with a beer and I'm not watching the crowd for what, ten, fifteen seconds? So
these two..."--with a light shake of Wolf's arm--"have all the time in the world to
move." The look of chagrin on both their faces was all the confession we needed.
"And you figured all this out how fast?" Derrick said. "Ah'm kinda
wonderin' if we need t' train you at all."
I'll take all you've got," I said grimly. "Beginner's luck. I thought I was
going stark raving for a while. It only clicked when I realized the four of them

Page 10 of 19

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

were together. Look at 'em. Age. Dress. Physique. Students. I am one,

remember? I should know students when I see some."
I looked over at them. Who was more cowed? "What university?" I
growled loudly at the wolf. "Don't make us have to search for which Dean to
throw you to. In pieces if you don't say."
An unhappy wolf fur licked around his muzzle. "Shut up!" Shepherd Fur
hissed sideways. "Just keep your damn mouth closed."
"Brad, we are boned, all right?" the wolf snarled. "B-o-capital-N'd. If this
little clusterfuck keeps me outta fourth year Eng my Dad'll roast me. But I can
guarantee you'll be the entre." Then to me: "Georgia Polytechnic," he said
miserably. "We're from Mason House."
Shepherd groaned. "Why don't you just tell 'em your underwear size
too?"
"At the rate the meerkat was going he'd have had yours in a few more
minutes, asshole," the wolf shot back. "Just tailor the shredded pieces back
together and there you are."
Of all of us, only Jamati failed to suppress a loud snicker at that. I
suppose I have to take that as a compliment.
I was getting used to that click. Here comes another one. Click: Mason
House. Were we talking fraternity here? By Georgia I'll bet we were.
"One thing really bugged me," I said to Derrick in a low voice. "What
were they going to do? Thinking about that points to the weakness. System's fine
at dealing with individual or small group trouble. Anything spontaneous pops up,
somebody's either going to spot it before it does damage, or is on top of it almost
instantly with the right amount of heavy. But the system's not fine at dealing with
a planned, non-spontaneous team effort, directed at a goal. Conspiracy, that is.
Furs involved all look and behave perfectly normal. Until they move together as
a team. They're also very much aware that there's security in place.
I cocked a thumb at our two miscreants. How knowledgable these dudes
are, dunno. If they've studied the place for vulnerabilities, might be a lot. But
they knew enough to understand how and where to create a vulnerability. And
likely an escape plan. Check for me: how much did those two canine furs drink
and are they acting drunk right now too?"
Up came the compslate as Derrick spoke into his left wrist and at a watch
that wasn't one. "Ops, about th' two canine furs we just bagged," he murmured.
"Drinks records to mah screen please. And connect me t' whoever's guardin' 'em
right now....Thanks... Yo' Mark. Derrick. One quick question: those two doggies
seem drunk...? Uh huh... Uh huh... Thanks. No, disposition not decided yet;
within th' hour. Mah compslate says they ain't drunk at all. But, ah, just t' yank
their tails, tell 'em they seem too drunk t' get home. Please accept our hospitality
for a few hours so you can sober up. And sweat... Heh. Damn right Ah'm a
bastard... Thanks. Out."
"Just a couple of drunk kids," I said quietly. "Why wouldn't we let them
go? Good camouflage, huh?"
Jamati had finished staring at the art and was listening. She glanced at
the Shepherd and the wolf. "All this just to get two guys on stage with me," she
mused. "And for only a very short period of time. Slowing down one guard
wouldn't stop the tons of others who'd be incoming."
Jamati folded the art, then held the pages out to me. "These are very,
very good. Can we talk about them later?"
I took the pages and slid them into my jacket. "Of course. Was hoping to
do just that."
I looked at Jamati. She looked at me (green, green eyes). And the orange
'n black of her face. And the rest of her. God, she was so beautiful. "Was it about

Page 11 of 19

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

you? Or could it have been any dancer?" I wondered. "I will say I think we're
talking frat prank here. Mason House, he said."
Lion was listening. "That is so helpful in narrowing it down," he said
wryly. "Frats can and do pull the damndest things, sometimes as part of
initiation, sometimes just to count coup over other houses. I speak from
experience; go Sigma Xi. I remember some doozies. But..."
He scowled at the wolf and the Shepherd, which probably didn't help
their nervous. "But I don't ever recall a prank of this scale that wasn't out for
something tangible," Lion said, speculation in his voice. "Either to leave a big
mark behind that everybody sees or something to take back to the house as
trophy. Can't just have witnesses word that two frats jumped onstage with a hot
tigress and did something."
Jamati looked down at herself and all the gold on her. "Apart from
jewelry I'm not exactly a trophy-rich target," she joked. "Since that's all I've got
on me."
Yes, we noticed. "That can't be it," I muttered. "Since it's unlikely that
Wolf and Shepherd over there would escape with anything physical. The two
dogs are already gone..."
Ohhhh.
"Got it," I said quietly. "Now, nobody move. Especially don't turn around
and look at the crowd. There's a fifth fur on the team, he's likely watching us
right now, and he's not involved with any of this. So hes able to walk out in
complete safety and carry that trophy home. And I think I know what it is.
Maybe Wolf and Shepherd don't get out. There's a contingency plan for that,
probably a lawyer ready to bail them, then plea-bargain like a wildcat to
essentially get them off. What frat boy's gonna mind a few misdemeanor charges
on his record? Let me check something else."
I turned towards Wolf and Shepherd. Then pointed at the Shepherd.
"You. Brad. Answer my question. You're pre-law, or into at least second-year
law. Yes or no?"
Brad stiffened and opened his muzzle a bit. Then shut it firmly and
glared at me. Somebody wants to go for round two, I think. But I had my answer.
"I'm starting to enjoy this being right thing," I grinned to Jamati. "If
they've put legal thinking into this--seems a fair assumption--then what they did
on stage would've been serious, enough to generate charges. I speculate
something sexual since there is nobody, repeat, nobody hotter'n you around here.
Unless a cook in the restaurant sets him or herself on fire. So: how would you go
about taking a trophy home?"
"I don't know. Look around for pieces of charred apron?" Jamati giggled.
"Oh wait, you mean me."
I walked into that one, as Derrick and Lion chuckled. "Definitely hire this
meerkat. Somebody's got a camera, and not on their cell phone," Lion said
sourly. "Again. And knows enough to shield the damn thing. We don't need
sensors we need remote MRI scanners."
Derrick was talking into his wrist again. "Ops, priority job. Snap-scan th'
crowd in our immediate vicinity, then alert th' nearest snooper, get ready t' do a
grab. Cross th' entry times of th' dogs, wolf, and Shepherd with th' crowd. If
we're lucky five guys made a mistake and came in together. Think Number five
is in th' crowd, and..."
"And I think he's over there, beside the mouse fur and the pony fur
couple. Ten meters-ish," I interrupted quietly. "Bunny fur, glasses, brown fur,
pudgy. Suit looks awkward on him. I smell too much cafeteria food and a suit he
hasn't worn in a year. Student."
Derrick and Lion had their backs to the crowd. Jamati and I were facing
the crowd. I could look without looking like I was looking. Jamati did the same,

Page 12 of 19

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

her eyes barely moving. "Nobody's gonna give him two seconds," she said.
"Especially in here. Nerd chic if ever I've seen it. Excellent cover."
Derrick was listening to whatever was in his ear and staring at his
compslate. Then: "Bingo. Good job. We've got an eyes-on confirm as well. Got
his name...? Good. Nearest snooper, go get him. Out." Ops must be staffed with
magicians; that was fast.
Derrick looked up at me. "Was excellent cover. They goofed and came in
together. Th' bunny's our pigeon. Snooper's movin'."
"Oh please, allow me the pleasure," Jamati breathed. "They screwed my
show. If he runs I might just have to eat him."
And not waiting for permission, Jamati turned and began walking
towards the bunny. "Hey...!" Derrick said, but too late by far.
No, not walking: sashaying, her tail swaying behind her. Stalking, to be
precise. What this looked like from the front, unknown but likely impressive.
Following her, I sure knew what it looked like from the rear. Lessee now: Fox,
bunny, Dobie, lioness. And now tigress. What a night I'm having (wait, said that
already). We were going to run out of species if this kept up.
The front view had the desired effect, though. The bunny gulped as he
watched a naked gold-drenched Jamati approach. His glasses were going to fog
up soon. Then he registered me trailing her. His ears went straight up in alarm.
He began to edge away, moving backwards...
To bump into a large-breasted blonde lioness in a green miniskirt who
had just stepped out from behind a Poodle fur couple. He whirled around.
"Hi there," Karen said cheerfully. "Please stop moving. Or I'll bite you."
She smiled broadly, fangs on display. Showing great wisdom, the bunny stopped
moving.
Karen?
Her left wrist lifted, Karen spoke into the bracelet I'd seen but not
noticed. "Ops, grab is complete. The bunny is mine," she said. Then looked as
though she was listening to something (which she was). "Great. Out."
Then she looked at me. "Why, hello, handsome meerkat," Karen cooed,
her eyes twinkling. "Small world. We meet again. So this is the tigress you said
you were interested in." I could feel Jamati's surprise at that.
Set it aside for a sec. Whatever amount of real animal there is in any of
us, there was plenty of lapine in the bunny. Hed gone frozen, completely
paralyzed, almost to the point of not breathing.
Then he nearly shrieked as a clawed tiger paw clapped him on the
shoulder and turned him around. "If she doesn't bite you, I will!" Jamati snarled.
We're talking real snarl there.
Grinning lioness behind, murderous tigress in front: the bunny had
nowhere to go. His eyes fell on me.
"Don't mind me," I purred, my fangs gleaming. "I'm good with
leftovers." If we gave him a heart attack did that mean we could scavenge him?
Fortunately, that didn't happen. "M-m-miss Jamati," the bunny
stammered, not far from a heart attack. "W-w-what do you w-w-want?"
I suppose I might be stammering too. Jamati leaned in close. "You have a
camera on you," she growled. "Please hand it over. Trust me, you do not want me
to search you. In light of how you and your friends fucked up my show."
It was either backbone or bone stupidity that made the bunny straighten
up, then adjust his glasses. "I'm sorry? I, ah, have no idea w-what you're talking
about. And you can't search me..."

Page 13 of 19

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

A hot lioness gleefully threw her arms around the bunny's neck and
pressed herself against him in a highly affectionate way. "Oooo, but I can search
you," Karen breathed blondly, playing with his ears. "I love searching guys. Why,
you never know what you'll find. Sometimes I have to search a guy four or five
times during a night to be sure I've found everything."
I think I knew she was was going to say that. Sexiest fur woman this
bunny had ever been close to, groping away and giggling. The look of
crogglement on his face was almost enough to crack Jamati and I up, down, and
sideways.
Until Karen's left hand dipped inside the front of his jacket, and came out
holding a small and extremely high-end vid camera, not much bigger than a
regular flash card. A little fresnel lens popped up over the tiny screen on the back
so you could see what you were shooting. Definitely for covert use.
"There we are," Karen said, dropping both the blonde and the snuggling
like a stone as she stepped away from him. "Sir, we're going to have to detain
you for a while as per our authority under Georgia corporate law. You're also in
violation of Layers customer behaviour code you read and agreed to on your
first visit. Beyond any criminal charges, you personally are now subject to an
expedited civil suit which will be automatically filed electronically on Monday
morning. If you indicate that you dont have a lawyer, the Justice Reform Act of
2257 requires us to refer the suit to the Public Defenders office. I have to ask
this: are you too intoxicated to understand what I'm saying?"
The bunny closed his eyes in pain. "No, but I wish I was," he moaned.
"Shit."
Derrick and Lion had followed us. Derrick came up beside Karen, who
silently passed him the camera. "Yah, James, y' definitely are in some," Derrick
said absently, as he studied the tiny machine, then slipped it into a pocket with
his compslate. "Right up t' your ears. But if you'll answer a question Ah think we
can excavate you t' maybe your waist. That might save your tail when your
university deals with you; sorry, but th' suit still likely has t' happen. If you'll
trust mah word Ah promise not to say y' talked. Unfortunately Ah can't protect
your friends. They're in shit so deep they might wanna think about a mining
career. What d' you think?"
Whoa. Something tells me I'd better pay considerable attention during
training. The skill level in operation around here was formidable. Whether we
were talking raccoons or lionesses (Karen?).
The bunny sighed. "Damn. My brother said stay away from that
fraternity. Buncha pervs. Being warned makes this suck even more. I'm outta
there, tomorrow morning 9:00AM sharp. Bury my muzzle back in a comp-sci
department keyboard so deep they'll never find me. Whatever happens to those
twisted doofuses, the worse the better. What do you want to know?"
"What exactly were they going to do to Jamati when they got on stage?
That you were going to record?" I said, then looked at Derrick. Only question
that mattered. Derrick nodded approvingly.
James drew a breath. And looked straight at Jamati. Who glared back at
him. "Damn," he whispered. "Miss Jamati, I... I cannot say that straight to your
face. I'm sorry, I am really sorry, and ashamed, about this mess, and I... I don't
want to make it worse. Okay? All I'll say is this: check under their pants. And it'll
be completely clear."
I snapped my fingers. "Right. The Shepherd. One point during the fight
he moved a little funny. Enough that I noticed anyway." I looked at Karen. "How
are you at searching inside of pants?" I joked.
"Oooo. My favourite," Karen squealed. "'S usually where I search first."
"To think I hid the stupid thing in my jacket," James murmured, with
something of a wry smile.

Page 14 of 19

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

That cut through Jamati's glower a little as the rest of us chuckled. James
looked anxiously at Derrick. "Will that do?" he asked.
Derrick pondered. Then answered. "Enough. Tells us how t' find out and
that'll do. Larry, get him t' an office and start takin' statement an' get th' processin'
goin'. May be talkin' cops for th' other two but this one c'n skip that, Ah think.
Special note: no way he meets or sees any of th' others. Evidence issue. Could
also let us play a psych card on th two dogs t' close net on Wolf and Shepherd.
Cops like presents with nice tidy bows on 'em. Ah should know, Ah was one.
Meet you in an hour-ish t' plan that."
The Lion (Larry) nodded, then took James by the arm and began to lead
him away. Derrick looked around. We'd attracted as interested a crowd as back at
the stage.
"And since this place is supposed t' be a dance club, let's turn th' keys and
restart th' propellers," Derrick said, and spoke into his wrist again. "Ops, tell th'
DJs th' security alert is down. Everybody back t' boozin' and dancin'... Yeah, Ah
know, quite a show while it lasted. Meerkats do seem t' be good for
entertainment value. We'll stick t' naked beautiful tigresses, thank you. Less work
for us Out."
Even as he spoke the lights started going down. The dance music began
to rise in thumpa-thumpa volume again, and our crowd began to drift away.
"Next step, let's get Wolf and Shepherd outta here t' somewhere private," Derrick
said briskly, clapping his hands together. "Then we pretend we see somethin'
under their pants, then rip em off and see more."
"Oh boy. I love this job," Karen said hungrily. She looked at me. "I really
am a teacher. By day. Stumbled into snooper work when I creamed this horse
who was hassling a cute deer fur, then got recruited by a raccoon. Sound
familiar? Tonight was supposed to be off duty." She reached up and tapped a
pretty ear meaningfully. "Although for security folk there's really no such thing.
Oh well. No rest for the wicked."
"Now we wouldn't know anybody wicked around here, would we?"
Jamati giggled, then ran her tongue around her muzzle. She winked at Karen.
Ye gods. Does that read the way I think that reads?
Barely, I saw Karen's muzzle open a bit as her eyes widened. Then she
went deadpan sober. "Oh no, no, no. Not around here," she said gravely. "I'm
sure we're all just as pure as the driven snow. Or we were the last time we
checked. Very thoroughly, as I recall." Then spoiled the deadpan as a bit of pink
tongue slipped over her lips.
A veeery important question about Jamati would appear to have just been
answered.
"Uh huh," Derrick said dryly. "Ah could say somethin' about snow jobs
but Ah won't. Work, people, work. Then play. In th' snow or otherwise. Don't
make me crack th' whip heah." He turned and began walking back towards the
stage.
"Oh no, we wouldn't want him to do that," I murmured as we followed
him, Jamati on my right and Karen on my left. "Why, you never know, we might
actually come to enjoy it."
"You haven't met the Chief of Security yet, have you?" Karen smiled.
"She's out of town on vacation for a week. Ex-military, former colonel from
Germany. Lioness milf, actually. Ve haff vays to make you purr."
"Splendid. What kind of army am I getting into here? Eyes front, soldier.
And uniform off and nipples out. If they're drooling at you they can't shoot
straight."
"I can do that," Jamati giggled, then squared her shoulders to make
breasts and nipples come to attention as she walked. All together now: drool.

Page 15 of 19

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

And with the nipple jewelry, jingle. Combine that with a light step that was
nothing like marching. This tigress moved so well.
"Damn, Jamati, I wish I had your dance skills," Karen sighed as we
walked. "Although the Board of Ed might have something to say about that the
first time I used 'em in public."
"Such as, 'Yeow, take it all off, lion girl,' maybe?" I grinned. "Gotta keep
your student's attention somehow."
"More than few of the more hormone-addled boys are thinking precisely
that. I can tell. And a few girls. If I wrote on my ass instead of on the blackboard
I might get better teaching results." Then to Jamati: "Handsome meerkat and I
crossed paths in some dancing an hour or so back. You were wondering."
"So I was," Jamati murmured.
Karen bumped me with her hip. "Nothing wrong with, ah, his dance
skills, I can assure you," she purred mischievously. "I promise, you'll be
surprised."
Don't have a heart attack, don't have a heart attack, don't have a heart
attack. I looked at Jamati to find an equally mischievous look on her face. It
vanished, replaced by neutral. But those deep green eyes were looking right
through me.
"Maybe," Jamati said coolly, then smiled faintly. "We'll just have to see
what we'll see, won't we?"
That was good for a meaningful gleep; about a strength five. But covered
it. "At the moment that's all of you," I joked weakly. We were coming up on the
stage. Wolf was sitting down with his head in his hands, Big Raccoon looming
over him. Brad was trying to out-stare Horse. And losing.
"I don't get paid for putting clothes on, you know," Jamati giggled. Then
her voice lowered, the mischievous back. "State secret: Dancing is a helluva turnon for me. I may be addicted. I like what I see in people's eyes when they see me
nude. Goodie, 'cause I like being nude. As for what you see, artist meerkat, I
really like that."
"Watched you dance enough. You're a pleasure to draw. Well, orange 'n
black stripes, actually a bitch to draw. But we'll talk about that later. Curtain's
going up on the next act." Derrick had approached Horse, who pulled on the
Shepherd's arm to get him away from the wolf.
Jamati noted Karen's puzzlement. She nudged me. "The art. Show her."
Then added to Karen: "Turns out he's an artist. Surprise. You're about to get
one."
Out came the pages again. Karen took them, unfolded...
And stopped dead in her tracks. I stopped too. Jamati kept going. She
went to stand beside Derrick and revived her glaring towards the Shepherd.
Astonished, thy name is lioness. Karen shook her head, then shuffled
paper and looked at picture #2. "Mrrrr," she murmured under her breath. "Oh
wow, now doesn't that call up good memories."
Oh wow, now doesn't that call up a huge buncha stuff to draw. "From the
bit of lioness-tigress flirting back there, think I can guess how good," I said, not
quite keeping the envy out of my voice.
Karen's eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Yes, Jamati and I had a very nice
fling a year back. She's more monogamous than me so it wasn't a perfect fit. Still,
we parted as much good friends as when we started. You'll learn that there are a
number of other folks here who can say the same. But then Layers is the focal
point for pretty much everybody's sex life. Welcome to the club, Kylah. Gotta
admit, you're making a good first impression on everyone."

Page 16 of 19

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

She looked at the art. "Although if these make it into the comp network
productivity around here could take a sharp dip from everybody just staring at the
screen. You really are serious about her."
I swallowed hard. "To quote a tigress, maybe," I whispered. "Where do
you think the art's coming from, out of a Corn Flakes box? I'm pretty much in
control enough here to keep from making a fool of myself. I hope. Leastwise I
swore that to Derrick. We'll just have to see what we'll see, huh? I'm hanging
onto that line with all claws dug in. And then the funny raccoon turns around and
offers to hire me."
Karen tapped her ear. "Yeah, I heard," she smiled. "You're the talk of the
comm net tonight. And struck on our star tigress. I won't tell if you won't tell."
"Thank you, that's very helpful," I muttered, looking over at Jamati.
"Although that particular state secret isn't going to stay one for long. If she's as
much the nudist as she said I can't hold back the drooling forever. Do they sell
orange 'n black ink by the tanker-load? I may need to place an order."
"Art isn't the only reason you're here tonight," Karen said archly, then
folded the pictures up and handed them back.
"Yah, but it'll do to keep me out of trouble for a while," I sighed as I slid
the art back into hiding. It was getting a workout tonight. "Or at least until I can
think of something constructive. I'm leaning towards just blurting out a certain
fact that definitely can't stay secret for long. Let the chips--or G-strings--fall
where they may."
"Ah yes: that state secret. So now I know what I'd find if I searched
you," Karen giggled. "Drat. Takes all the fun out of it. If you're in trouble, call
me. Seriously. But I have reason to believe you'll not have quite the trouble you
think."
Okay, now really what was that about? Twice now, hints about Jamati
that might ordinarily raise my optimism level, but actually just amounted to
statements that there was something I didn't know about her. Something
important. All right: what? Somebody did this again I was going grab them by
the throat and squeeze until they blabbed.
Which I couldn't do to Karen because she'd turned to walk over to Jamati
and Derrick, and I realized that everybody was waiting for me. I hustled and
arrived just as Derrick was about to stop waiting.
"Th' art did it again, huh?" Derrick grinned. "Y' know, we give that stuff
to th' DJs, they could scan it, plug it into th' system, and project it onto th' ceiling.
Wonder what would happen then, hmmm?"
I smiled. "A lot of sprained necks, most likely. And drooling. Then a lot
of hurt tails from the slippery floor. Sorry boss, guess I just don't know my own
strength."
"They do," Jamati snickered. With a thumb towards Wolf and Shepherd.
Big Raccoon and Horse were leading them towards the far side of the main stage
and a door with a glowing-red exit sign above it. They went through.
Then Jamati froze, her thumb still in the air. "Derrick?" she said, a
wondering tone in her voice. "You been taking smart pills or something? 'Cause
that is looong way from a dumb idea, in my opinion. Run that past the marketing
department and they might just have a collective orgasm on the spot. In light of
how good Kyle's art is. And exclusive, repeat, exclusive to Layers."
Jamati focused on me. "Kyle, I am dead serious here. If you really like
drawing naked beautiful fur girls in naughty poses, trust me, we can find you
some volunteers. Shall I bet that you've got more art of me? That doesn't show
me arranging flowers. Bring it on. If it can make Helena, our mouse fur artistic
director, cream in her panties then on the ceiling it goes, I say. Followed by a
loud Ka-ching."

Page 17 of 19

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

Slowly, a raccoon, a lioness, a tigress, and a meerkat looked up at the

darkened ceiling, the target for the pattern of wild and rhythmic lighting
emanating from the DJs station, now going again at full throttle. We were all
talking over the music.
"Oh. My. Gawd," Karen said in awe. "I can see it. I really can. And it
would work so damn well. Hey artist meerkat, how are you at lionesses? I've got
a friend who'd love to pose for you."
"Or Melanie," Jamati breathed.
"Janice 'n Jella," Derrick murmured. "All that shiny leather. And oh, their
tails."
"Thought Candace has exquisite legs," I whispered. "Make 'em twenty
meters tall? Why not?"
"How d' we get Wendy's tits up there without havin' t' knock out a wall?
Ah've noticed that horse fur girls do grow 'em big."
"Let's not forget about horse fur guys. We'll have a similar problem with
Charles. If our artist is up for drawing that. Oopsie; the lioness made a pun."
"Ah'll spank y' later. Shall we file this idea for a bit? We're gettin' a mite
distracted heah."
We all dropped our eyes and looked at each other. "Out of curiousity, do
all your security alerts end as profitably as this one?" I said. "Snooper work is
one thing. But this ceiling idea could be a genuine full-time art gig. And dovetails
neatly with some other thinking. I could be busy here for years."
"And that would be so horrible?" Jamati said softly. There was a very
direct, very open look on her face. Green eyes went straight to mine.
Couldn't quite read that. But felt there was something in her that was
asking more than that question. Or giving me an answer?
"No, that would not be horrible," I said, completely hypnotized by green.
Set in orange 'n black. "I think... that would be good. Very, very good."
For absolutely no reason I could figure, I suddenly wanted to kiss her. So
much. Right here. In front of everybody.
Didn't happen. What did was Jamati reached out and brushed two fingers
against my muzzle. "Good," she whispered. "I think so too. Glad we agree."
When I do kiss her, her lips are never going to forget it. Come to think of
it, mine neither. When that would be, dunno. If was no longer an issue. I knew
that much.
The moment didn't last. "C'mon, furry lovebirds," Derrick chuckled. "Y'
put on too good a performance, th' crowd is gonna wanna see it every night. Let's
get this occurrence cleared, shall we?"
Jamati started (so did I) and took her hand away. "Um," she said, still
staring at me. "The Naked Beautiful Tigress and Handsome Meerkat show. I, ah,
don't think we've got the licenses to do that sort of thing on this stage."
I bit my lip. "Oh? Pity. What kind of low-class dump are they running
around here? Probably call for a huge amount of rehearsal anyway. At least for
me."
"Yeah, me too. But that can probably be arranged. Practice, practice,
practice; dancer's motto."
"Ditto here. I am an artist. Always ready to learn new technique."
"Quick, hose them down," Karen whispered loudly to Derrick. "They're
starting to talk in euphemisms. And you know what that means."

Page 18 of 19

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

"Yeah," Derrick growled. "Docked pay. If y'all aren't followin' me to that

exit. And Ah mean now, please?" He turned and gestured towards the door.
That too was an order. Derrick moved, Karen followed, and Jamati and I
took up the rear. "Ka-pish. I hear a whip crack," I muttered.
"Oh no. We're not doing that kind of show," Jamati giggled. Then
glanced at me, very mischievous in her eyes. "Although it would all depend on
who's holding the whip."
Oh it would, would it? "That'd be a new look for you. Mmmm, yes,
leather could work on orange 'n black. Have I said, absolutely astonishing, the
amount of new material I've tripped over to draw tonight."
"Hee hee hee."
That was both of us snickering. As the good lines just keep on coming.
Go meerkat.

---

Page 19 of 19