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Crossing Bridges

By: Vergennes

12/10/1949- New Fur- Fourteen Days to the Performance

A cold mist rolled into the city as Jean walks out of his warm and pleasantly built wooden lodge. A light drizzle had started to fall as the lion gazes up at the gathering clouds, sighing as the sun had not been out in a few days. Wrapping his cloak tight around his tall and slim frame, the white-lion brings his hood up over his gorgeous silver and white mane, to not only avoid getting wet as the drizzling morning began to rain harder, soaking the ground and the cloak, but to avoid being seen by the bustling crowd of furs walking up and down the muddied street leading into the large town. Shutting his door tight and locking it, the white-lion begins to set off down the busy path, his paws sinking into the soft earth as he makes hiis way to the large Opera House where the gorgeous twenty-one-year-old and nationally famous white-lion, was scheduled to sing in two weeks' time.

Avoiding attention with his head low, the famous white-lion hides his face from view, covering it with his billowing dark cloak and wading through the mass of furs bustling around the inner city market. Bumping one another and running into Jean with their baskets filled with food and supplies, no one seems to notice the tall and slender Lion as he makes his way through the crowd, almost a head taller than any other fur in the market despite trying to keep a low profile. The rain was beginning to make the path slick with mud, and Jean could feel his foot paws sink further into the ground. The smell of deli meat and market places hung low with the rain, mixing with the rancid stench of wet fur, forcing the lion to look down at his footpaws.

A small rabbit bumps into Jean and, despite all the other furs who had bumped into him previously, this small young male (who came up just barely to the white-lion's navel), stopped and looked up into the face of the tall cloaked stranger to apologize. The smaller hare's soaked face was bright with a blush as he flattens his ears, looking up into the rain.

"S-sorry sir. Oh! You're...You're..." The young male, obviously no older than eighteen, says in a high pitched and excited voice as he looks up into the white-lions loving silver eyes and beautiful white face.

"It's quite alright." Jean replies in a hushed tone, his voice low, almost sultry as he hugs his cloak around him and makes a shushing gesture by pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm just passing through and wanted to see the town. Okay? Can you promise me that?" The Lion whispers as he gets on a knee so that he could talk with the rabbit face to face, the soaked earth wetting his cloak. For some reason, Jean felt his heart lighten and flutter in his chest as he gets on a knee to speak with the small hare. Even though he had never met this young-rabbit before, he felt something different about him. Almost...happiness...that he was talking with someone so kind.

The young male nodded exuberantly, blushing deeper.

"I'm coming to the show in two weeks! I'm an opera singer too and you just...Inspire me!" He whispers back, bouncing on the balls of his feat.

Smiling broadly, his white face seeming to glow with a radiance, Jean stands back up.

"What's your name, little rabbit?" Jean asks as he rests a paw on the younger male's shoulder.

"Clarence" The rabbit replies as he seemed to shake with happiness.

"You were the first fur today to apologize for running into me. Would you like to come with me to the Opera House for a private performance? We are just working on the finishing touches." Jean asks as he begins walking down the road with the small rabbit's shoulder in paw, smiling down to the smaller male.

"I would love to!" Clarence yells, then flattens his ears. "But...I am but a peasant sir, slaving in the Bread Shoppe just around the corner while I work towards my dream of becoming an Opera singer like you. I have to get back to the bakery." The rabbit says as his long ears fall back.

"That's alright, Clarence. I expect to see you at the performance, my friend. I know that with enough hard work, it will eventually pay off. Keep practicing." Jean nods and smiles down at the little rabbit as he lets go of the young male's shoulder and strides off with his long legs, wrapping his cloak tight around him and hiding his face once more. Clarence stands in shock with a wide smile, having met the city's celebrity and not caring that the skies had opened and the rain was now falling hard on his perked long ears.

Walking up the enormous flight of stone stairs, staring up at the magnificent Opera House, Jean lets out a soft breath as the grandeur of the architecture takes it away.

"This sight never gets old." He states breathlessly as he makes his way through large white pillars and to gigantic wooden doors, now shielded by the downpour of rain.

Turning around at the entrance as he throws the double doors open, Jean stares out at the city of New Fur. The smoke from chimneys rises to the grey low hanging clouds over the large city. The Opera House, sitting at the very edge of the large and crowded inner city market, commands the attention of any furs that may be walking around the marketplace that Jean just passed through.

"Sir. May I take your cloak?" A tall ferret dressed in a black and white tuxedo asks from behind Jean.

"Yes, Duke. I am just admiring the view. Thank you." Jean says as he takes off his dark and rain-soaked traveling cloak in a sweeping motion from around his shoulders, and hands it to the waiting male.

"Let's get this show on the road. Time to see who will be part of the amazing play, 'True Love'." The lion states as he runs a paw through his white mane and walks into the Opera House, taking long strides with his long legs. His tail lashes behind him, anxious to get to the performance and give his all.

However, his mind was still thinking of the young rabbit, Clarence.

12/10/1949- Califurnia- Fourteen Days to the Performance

"Madam Rork! The plane is about to leave for New Fur in an hour. We really must be going." A young tigress calls out to the tall and busty white wolf, who is dressed in a gorgeous red dress that flows down to her ankles with a red hat, garnished with rose petals around the brim that shields her head from the brutally hot midday sun. Madam Rork's dress tails behind her as her white footpaws run over to the young tigress, leaving the flashing photography from the mob of news reporters.

"Thank you all! I am excited and honored to be a part of the famous NewFur Opera team and I am sad to be leaving the Califurnia Opera!" Madam Rork calls as she enters a black automobile, followed behind by the tigress who called to her, and is quickly driven away.

"I'm sorry about that, Charlene. You know how I get with the reporters. Califurnia has been so amazing to me, and I can't believe that I am going to New Fur. It's so much better for the Opera. I can't believe I got a part in "True Love" for the show in two weeks as Carlanatta." The White wolf rambles as she stares out the window of the fast traveling automobile.

Forcing herself to not puncture holes into the wooden clipboard her paws are holding, Charlene looks to Madame Rork.

"Madame, when we land, we need to head straight to the Opera House to meet the White Lion Jean. He will be playing the part of Trembuler, the lover to your character Carlanatta."

Smiling and turning to Charlene, Madam Rork throws her arms up and howls.

"Imagine, Charlene! That hunk of a Lion loving me. I'll get him to love me for real, as well as the Opera "True Love"." Madame Rork squeals and leans out the window of the moving car and howls again, clinging to the hat on her head with a white paw.

"Ahoooo! Watch out Jean! The famous Susan Rork is coming!" She yells into the wind as the black car speeds to the large jet that would take Madame Rork straight to New Fur, where she will immediately begin her mastery on "True Love".

12/10/1949- New Fur- Fourteen Days to the Performance

"So Why must I choose,

To stay normal or true

I don't want to lose

This love that I hold

For someone I adore

So why must I be the one to choose,

Is it right to stay normal or true?"

Jean sings in a tenor tone. His voice radiating out to the cleaning crew in the stands and seats of the Opera House, who are now clapping exuberantly as the white Lion throws his arms out, making his beautifully glowing white mane shimmer in the hot lights from the stage floor.

The last note echoes throughout the luxurious stage and opera house as the lion looks up at the chandelier and gorgeously painted ceiling. The balconies and red-velvet seats with gold trimmed linings glinting from the magnificent chandeliers golden light. The intricate designs holding his view as he listens to the last note of the famous opera, "True Love", fade away.

Panting deeply and sweating, Jean takes a quick bow to the cleaning crew and smiles as he turns and starts to walk back stage, his white tail lashing behind him from the adrenaline. Dressed in his stage outfit, a shimmering black suit that hugs his lean muscled form tightly with a white shirt, the color of his mane, which flares out at the wrists and around the collar of the shimmering black suit, accentuating the deep V-neck that goes down the lean muscled lion's chest, Jean wipes his brow with an arm.

"That was a great practice, Everyone! Now, may I have all of you here for one final announcement for today's rehearsal?" The conductor calls from the stage as Jean walks quietly backstage to get a drink.

"Yeah. Right after I get some water." The lion grumbles quietly in his throat as he stands at a small wooden table with glass cups filled with the liquid behind the curtains of the main stage.

Taking one into his paw, the lion drains the glass with one gulp, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back and swallows. Letting off a pent-up breath, Jean sets the glass down and perks his ears. Voices were coming from a door just off the stage.

"Now, where's that white lion, Jean? We're also missing the third most important in this Opera, Ralik! Where did that wolf go? He's got some explaining to do for his mishap with the bar stool during his main scene." The conductor's voice came from the main stage. "Guys! Let's go! We have to have everyone here to meet Madame Rork!"

Ignoring the Ferret conductor, Jean moves his way stealthily to stage left behind the thick curtain. Tracing the sound and now standing in front of a small wooden door, the white lion slowly opens it enough to stick his muzzle in. A stone room meets Jean's gaze, lit by a single light. Stone stairs circle their way down a passage unseen behind the wall.

"Mpf. Right there. Oh, god David. Ngh. Harder." A higher males voice, Ralik's voice, echoes up from the stairway, catching the lion's ears.

Jean's white muzzle grows red as he slips secretly into the room and stands at the top of the stairs, listening to the voice and moans from below the stairs. His ears perk and, with his paw on the wall as he creeps down stair by stair, Jean stays silent as possible as the moans grow louder.

Pressing his body to the wall of the spiral stone staircase, Jean stands on the last stair and peers around with his muzzle to look into the brightly lit room.

Manikins stand around the room dressed in fabulous and exuberant costumes. Other outfits litter the floor surrounding the wooden table in the center of the room, cast aside and now dirty with dust and mud. Raising his gaze, the Lion holds in a gasp with a paw to his maw as he takes in what is on the table.

Bent over the table with his tail high in the air and his face buried in the wood was Ralik. His claws were scraping the underwood of the table as he clenches his teeth and his eyes closed. The wolves grey and soot-stained costume-pants were around his ankles. His white and grimy costume-shirt was tightly grasped by one of the stage-hands, a large badger with a protruding beer belly dressed in a grey and filthy shirt with his brown stage-hand pants around his ankles as well. Gasping at every thrust into the smaller wolf, the badger caressed Ralik's hips as the table shook from the weight, almost as if the world had faded away and the only thing that he needed was the wolve's tight rear around his thrusting length.

"I-I'm clo-oh-se wolf. You want my seed in or out?" The badger pants as he starts picking up the pace of his thrusts, making the wolf gasp out in pleasure as he was taken over the table.

"O-on! I caaaaaan't afford to have the co-oh-ostume ruined and smelling of yooooooou." Ralik moans out as his cock bounces and smacks the underside of the wooden table, dripping clear pre onto the puddle that had formed beneath him. His hips thrust back into every buck of the badger's, creating a lewd sounding slap of the badger's balls against the wolve's taint as both moan out, continuing the fast thrusting movement and shaking the table.

Turning and running up the stairs with his padded footpaws, Jean opens the door at the top of the stairs and exits the scene, unable to believe what he witnessed. His muzzle red and his suit-pants straining slightly in the front, the white-lion adjusts the black fabric to hide his bulge as he quickly walks to the water table again and downs another cup of the cold liquid.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, his paw shaking from the spectacle he had just witnessed, Jean sets the glass down, makes one more adjustment of his tight and shimmering black suit-pants, and walks out to the stage and stands behind the crowd of furs all looking to the conductor.

"Alright, looks like we will just have to go on without those two men-oh- Jean, there you are! Have you seen Ralik?" The tall ferret asks the white-lion as all the faces turned to look at Jean.

The white-lion wasn't listening to what the conductor was saying. His muzzle still red slightly and his paws clasped in front of his groin to hide his indecency.

Ralik...he'll get in so much trouble if someone finds them. Fired. Cast out. Jailed. I should've walked in and stopped it...he's my friend...we've been doing opera together for ten years...I never knew... Jean thinks to himself.

"Ahem! Jean!" The ferret yells as one of the dancers, a bear, taps Jean's shoulder. Blushing redder and looking up, thrown out of his thinking, Jean stutters as he realizes the crowd is looking at him.

"Sorry." The white lion says, unable to think of any other word.

"Have you seen Ralik?" The ferret asks, clearly impatient now as he taps a foot and crosses his arms.

"N-no." The lion shakes his head, making the decision to try and hide the situation on the spot.

"Well, we'll just have to go on without him. Now, everyone, I would like to introduce the woman who will be playing the part of Carlanatta. Madame, Susan Rork!" The conductor throws his arms to the side as a woman, dressed in a red flowing dress and wearing a large wide-brimmed hat comes walking out, smiling broadly and waving.

Everyone started clapping except for Jean, who was still thinking about the lewd and controversial sex he had just witnessed.

"Thank you, Everyone!" The she-wolf calls out exuberantly as she moves to the conductor, who takes her paw in both of his and kisses it twice.

"I am so excited to be a part of this famous Opera. And I am even more excited to be playing the part of Carlanatta and working with the famous white-lion, Jean!" She gestures with a flourish of her arm and paw to the tall lion standing in the back of the crowd.

Jean looks up and gives a small wave and a nod as everyone turns to him and claps once again, obviously excited for the duo to work together.

"Jean, do you have anything to say to Madame Rork before we go?" The ferret asks as he bounces on the balls of his feat.

Clearing his throat, the lions voice echoes from his chest, filling the stage and opera house.

"I will be honored to work with someone as famous as Susan Rork." Jean states simply.

Smiling broadly, Madame Rork catches the lions silver eyes with her blue ones, staring deep into Jean's.

"Well, everyone, it's time to head out. Thank you for an amazing practice today, and I will see all of you tomor-" A loud, shrill scream interrupts the conductor as everyone turns to the backstage curtain.

Jean's muzzle, if possible, grows whiter. His tail falls still and lays on the stage as his eyes widen. Turning with everyone to the backstage, the Lion takes in a deep breath of air.

Someone had found Ralik and the stage-hand.

End of Part 1

Thank You For Reading

-Vergennes