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"I don't think I caught your name?" the patient said as he was checking out. It was the week before Thanksgiving, 3 PM on a Friday, typically a slow time for appointments. Nobody wanted dental work right before the weekend. And with a holiday upcoming, at that. He was the only one in the reception area.

"It's, uh ... Meadow," she said, tapping away at her keyboard in a most secretarial fashion. If that's even a thing. Also, aren't I wearing a name tag?_The female harvest mouse was petite, just under five feet tall (including her lobes). Her fur was a rich, candy yellow, like butterscotch. Her neck and front were a contrasting cream. She idly brushed a paw down her shirt. She _was wearing her tag. He's just looking for an excuse to make small talk. Probably cause he's a normal, well-adjusted individual, unlike-

"I'm Fib."

"Do you want to schedule a follow-up appointment?" she asked, dutifully. Fib. Is that short for something? "Six months out?" She briefly looked up, making eye contact. He, as chance would have it, was a harvest mouse, too. A fellow 'golden fur.' _Rare to see._Like most of their species, his eyes were blue. But his were darker than hers. Like the sea. "Regular cleaning and checkup?"

"Sounds fine," he said with a bucktoothed, telegenic smile. A familiar smile. She'd seen him ... on television? The news, right? Yeah. I'm pretty sure. What channel? After the last elections, she'd started paying less attention to local news. National news was far more relevant. Local news is all fluff and puff anymore. And crime. What's the point? They're terrified of offending anyone or rocking the boat, so they never push. National news doesn't care about ruffling feathers.

"This is my first checkup in ... well, goodness knows how long," Fib said, "I always assumed that, because we have less teeth than predators, I didn't need to worry about them as much. I suppose the opposite is true. I should value them more!"

"A mouse is more than their buckteeth," Meadow said with a nod. Though the most prominent feature of the murine mouth, they did, in fact, have eighteen teeth total, including two pre-molars on the midway bottom jaw and a few sets of molars at the very back.

"Much more," Fib said warmly, eyes floating over the female mouse's figure. "But the hygienist gave me good marks. I've always brushed twice a day."

"Mm-hmm." Self-conscious, she wriggled in her chair, stealing a return glance. Well, it's only polite to look at someone when they're speaking to you.

His fur was equally warm and golden. Physically, he was a few inches taller. And nicely muscled for a slender rodent type. It was clear he worked out. Is he cute or handsome? She couldn't decide. I haven't been with my own kind in over a decade. Sure, other rodents. Even another mouse. Once or twice. But not my specific species. How insane is that? The majority of relationships are same-species. You're avoiding yours on purpose. Don't deny it.

The last time she'd dated a harvest mouse, things had gotten serious. L-word serious. Love. Maybe it's just an illusion? Chemical reactions and ... nonsense. Or maybe it's real and I expect too much. I haven't really come close to feeling it since. Have I just never made another genuine connection? Or am I shutting myself off?

He'd wanted children, a family. She hadn't, and wasn't willing to budge. There was nothing to do but move on. I felt, somehow, I wasn't feminine enough. I blamed myself. And him for wanting what he didn't have more than what he already did, and for assuming I'd want them and not bringing it up earlier in the relationship. Should I have mentioned it from the start? I didn't think it was important. I didn't think my value as a female came down to my reproductive capabilities ...

That was a long time ago, now. It shouldn't have mattered anymore.

Shouldn't.

She looked to Fib's pink paws.

In one, he was holding a bag of mint-infused 'bruxing blocks,' courtesy of the hygienist who'd done his checkup. With the other, he presented his insurance card. "They said you needed to scan this."

"Right. Yeah, I ... I do," she said, taking it and scooting her roller/swivel chair away. "It'll only take a moment." He thin, ropy tail wavered about at random.

Fib watched it. "I've got time," he said smoothly, leaning against the counter. Whereas most mouses, as they cutely referred to themselves, tended to be reserved and timid, Fib was very relaxed and confident. I suppose you'd have to be to work in the media. Or, at least, be really good at faking it.

Seeing that Meadow was clamming up at Fib's clear interest, her co-worker Petra, a rat, stepped in and bluntly asked, "You're on TV, aren't you?"

"Heh. Yeah." Fib nodded, reveling in the attention.

"Channel-"

"Eighteen. Daybreak."

"Morning shift? Must suck."

"It took some getting used to." Fib rolled his shoulders nonchalantly. He was wearing a button-up dress shirt. The top few buttons were undone, revealing some milky chest-fluff. He'd must've had a tie on and had removed it after leaving his job. "Yeah, morning drive-time and noon weather. Weekdays. It's a 4 AM to 1 PM shift. Wake up at 3, leave home at 3:30. I gotta go to bed at 8, 8:30. I miss a lot of great sporting events!"

"Sounds rough," Petra said, crossing her arms, as if she were interrogating a potential boyfriend for Meadow.

"I can't complain. It pays well," he said, casually. "And, of course, I _do_have a passion for the weather."

"Right," the rat echoed.

"And I get weekends off! So, that's a plus. Just need to gain some seniority to get shuffled to more 'regular' hours."

"Bet you could use some-"

"Here." Meadow, finished with Fib's card, interrupted Petra and returned it. She elbowed the taller, plain-brown rat out of the way. What the hell was she about to say? Her ears turned a deeper pink. Dammit, Petra. "Anything else we can do for you?" she asked Fib.

He took a slow, deep breath, thinking, or maybe just pretending to. He doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay and flirt with me. You should be flattered!"No, I think I'm good. But, hey, if you ever have any questions about the weather-" As he put his insurance card back in his wallet, he removed a business card. "Let me know." He slid it toward Meadow, a slyness sneaking onto his features. "I'm told I give a good forecast." He all but winked.

Meadow swallowed, hesitating before taking the card. She could feel her pulse starting to race. But, then, hadn't it already been? Fine. It's racing more. He's piqued my interest, okay? Is that a crime?"I've, uh, got an app for that."

"Is it my station's?"

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Um. No ... "

"Well, switch to ours! I write blurbs for it. And, if that doesn't work, like I said-" He nodded at his card. "Sometimes, it's better with a _personal_touch."

Her dishy ears burned. Don't faint, don't faint, don't faint."I guess."

"I'm up for a local Emmy, you know," he said, trying to strengthen his credentials. Or maybe overplay his paw. He thinks he's not getting through to me and is upping the ante. "'Best Local Weather Personality.' Probably won't win. Still need a date for the ceremony, though." He let that hang. "Anyway." He waved a paw. "Sorry! I'm keeping you from your jobs." He looked to Petra and nodded. And then to Meadow with that smile again. "Squeak next time."

When he was gone, Meadow let out the breath she'd been holding. Boy, what a blabber-mouse. I never thought he'd-

"Ooh." Petra whistled. "He was_so_ into you!"

Meadow scoffed. "He's probably just a cad in general. I bet all TV types are like that."

"Don't be dense. He gave you his_number_," Petra stressed.

"You gave him an opening! I was trying to not to encourage him. If it were up to me-"

"You would've sat there in awkward silence until he left. Yeah, yeah, I know." The rat rolled her eyes and flopped into her chair, spinning it around in a full circle. Then stopping to add, "I've seen it before."

"What does _that_mean?" Meadow's whiskers twitched.

"You're afraid of connecting with others. No, scratch that. You're not afraid." She pointed and said, straight out, "You're terrified."

Meadow sat down in her own chair, reaching for some random papers to shuffle. Never mind they were already organized. She frowned. "I am not."

Petra lowered her voice, whispering, "Don't think I don't know you've been in a few beds, mousey."

"Petra!" Meadow said, blue eyes widening, looking around in paranoia.

"Afraid your sweet, wholesome image is going to be tarnished? You're too self-conscious. Just like your whole stubborn species. You project this idea that you're some innocent country girl waif. But you like intimacy ... you like sex. Crave it in a depraved-"

"Whatever."

"As long as there's no emotional entanglement," the rat qualified.

"I'm plenty affectionate."

"To what degree? How much is too much? You're afraid of getting hurt. Someone must've broken your heart once," she reasoned sympathetically. She put a paw on the mouse's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" she said, sounding more grumpy than she'd intended. I don't need to talk about anything. I just went over that, even if it was with myself. I still count as an audience. Her cheeks burned beneath her golden fur. "With all your expertise in psychology, it's a wonder you're working as a receptionist. Not," she added after a few calming breaths, "that you know what you're talking about ... "

Petra shrugged. She wasn't one to be easily offended or pushed away. "I'm your friend. Or, at least, your closest work acquaintance." They didn't really hang out after hours. "I'm not going to let you throw this away. Fib likes you. And he's well off financially. Not to be vane, but that's a plus. You're practically living paycheck to paycheck, remember?"

"Money's _not_a reason to pursue a relationship."

"But it doesn't hurt. That might not be romantic, but it's practical."

"I suppose rats are all about that, huh? Practicality?"

"We don't put on airs. That's what separates us from you."

"Mm."

"And if you need a better reason? Loneliness. And you can't deny you're feeling that."

She didn't. She gnawed on her lower lip and stared at the screensaver on her computer screen, a tooth that shifted into shapes from several species as it bounced within the screen's borders. How lonely am I? Isn't everyone a little bit lonely? Isn't that natural? Or am I missing something? She'd been a bit down lately. Depressed, you mean? Sure, she had that on-again/off-again arrangement with Sol, but it was a little too 'off-again' for her tastes. I need someone I can rely on ...

A grin appeared on Petra's pointy muzzle. "If he hadn't been so head-over-tail for you, I might go after him myself. Don't normally go for cute."

"So, is he cute_or _handsome?" Meadow asked, still unable to decide.

"I'd have to see him naked to really tell," the rat said bluntly. "I bet he's-"

"Petra," Meadow mumbled, tail whipping about.

"What? We're both single. And even if-"

"Is this appropriate work conversation?"

The rat snorted. "The bosses don't care. As long as patients aren't around." She gestured at the reception area. Still no patients. "Besides, what do you think they talk about--or even do--in the break room?"

"That's none of my business."They totally have sex in the office after hours.

The rat put a paw on Meadow's arm, lowering her voice to a more gentle tone. "Fib's made his move. It's up to you, now. If I were you, I'd ask for his forecast. Preferably the long-range one."

"Well, thankfully, you're not me." Meadow blushed, putting the weather-fur's business card in her pocket.

The rat relented and nodded, knowing how diffiult mouses could be. Meadow in particular. "I'll go stretch my legs. Think you can hold down the fort?"

"If I need help flirting, I'll yell for you." When the rat had gone away, Meadow leaned back in her chair. Whiskers twitching, she reached into her pocket and took out Fib's business card. She looked it over, shook her head, and put it back in her pocket.

Sometime on Saturday afternoon, having a rare moment of nerve--and after still not hearing back from Sol and his insanely big dick--she got in touch with Fib. He suggested dinner Sunday evening at a restaurant well above her pay grade. She hadn't objected but had spent the lead-up worrying about how pricey it might be, what she should wear, and-

"You look uncomfortable," Fib observed as they waited for their meal. He took a sip of ice water and set the glass back down.

"Me? No. I'm ... no, just my normal self," Meadow insisted, eyes darting about. She adjusted the straps on her dress. She didn't own very many. Dresses, that is. Nothing fancy, anyway.

Well, except that deal I wore to my cousin's wedding last summer. Or was it the summer before? God, time blurs, doesn't it? How long 'til my fur turns grey? Anyway, couldn't exactly wear that here. I'm out of my element. __I don't look as pretty as the other girls in the room. Look at them all, graceful, lithe predators, and me just some prey who_ -_

"I'm glad you called," Fib said.

"Well, I ... I guess I needed some help figuring out the weather," she said. Way to say something lame. "Do you, uh, come here often?"

"Now and then. It's not a place you dine alone, so it's been a few months. But, then, I've only been in town for ... not even a year, now? Eight months. Yeah."

I wonder who he dated before me? What species? "And you're already being nominated for awards?"

"Heh. I'm the token prey nominee. They gotta pretend they care about diversity, you know? I won't win." He said it dismissively, but Meadow could tell he wanted to. "Is this place too formal for you?"

"A little," Meadow admitted, bowing her head. She took a breath and raised it. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't really go out that often, even on my own."

Fib put an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in a paw. "Why's that?"

She didn't have a good answer. "It's just easier to make my own meals. Healthier, simpler, cheaper." Also, I don't have to socialize.

"Mm. Probably." He removed his elbow from the table and leaned back. "I eat out far too often, I'm afraid. The hours I work? I'm constantly stopping at sandwich shops near the studio."

"Well, you look ... healthy," she decided, in lieu of a more suggestive word.

"Heh." He smiled. "Thanks. I find time to exercise. Gotta look good for the camera!"

"I wouldn't want to be on TV."

"Neither did I, actually."

"Oh?"

He nodded, dishy ears swiveling at the random noises in the room. Clinks of silverware. Faint music. All the chatter. "Being a mouse, as you know, there's a natural tendency to clam up, to twitch, to overthink things. And, then, ultimately, to suppress it all and pretend like nothing's going on. It's a survival instinct. A way to protect ourselves. We absolutely hate conflict of any kind and will do anything to avoid it."

Meadow nodded knowingly. That sounded like her to a tea. Yup. He gets it.

"So, to maintain a safe, secure place in society, we've fashioned a role for ourselves. Or maybe we've had it fashioned for us and appropriated it as our own? Probably both. But you know how it goes: quiet, polite, submissive to authority, blandly normal, saccharine sweet. To a fault. We're goody-goods," he emphasized with a shrug.

"And what choice do we have? If we behaved any other way, we'd be forgotten, ostracized completely. We need society more than they need us. We're as prey as prey can be, and in a world controlled by predators, if we didn't conform to some degree? We'd be lumped in with the rats. Irreverent, scrappy. Carrying attitudes the size of a house. Look how far they get in society. Not very. Not often, anyway." He stopped and added, apologetically, "No offense to your work friend. I have nothing against rats. I just-"

"She's pretty hardy. I doubt she'd be offended." If anything, she relishes an argument.

"Still, I don't mean to sound so ... cynical."

"I don't think you are." She gnawed on her lower lip. "I mean, if you are, I am."

"I'm not saying stereotypes are right," Fib emphasized. "But they exist. And, often, they're exacerbated and reinforced by the media." He spread his pink paws. "That's why I'm in this career." He nodded. "I wanted to be a meteorologist all along, of course, but doing the anonymous behind the scenes stuff. A pencil-pusher or what-have-you. I didn't want to be a front man. But my adviser at college told me news stations were sending out feelers, desperate for 'mouse types.' In the age of 'fake news,' they were looking for 'traditionally and inherently trustworthy' sorts, members of species that made their stations seem friendly and-" He waved a paw. "Well, all that bullshit."

Meadow's whiskers twitched. I don't recall 'fake news' being a buzzword until the last few years. He must only be a few years out of college. Oh, my gosh. How old is he? Twenty-five, twenty-six? He knows I'm in my thirties, right?

Fib continued, "I wasn't born into luxury. Like most of our kind, like you, too, I presume, I was rural."

She nodded.

"Had to take out a lot of student loans. And a TV career would pay far more than a 'desk job,' so ... I mean, I went for it. If I failed, I'd of course be terrified and curl up into a ball and fade away in some corner. But it worked. The risk paid off. I was hired right out of college. My loans are already paid in full. Each station I get hired away to is in a bigger, more lucrative market. Do I get uncomfortable in the public eye?" He let that linger. "If so, it's not something I can let myself think about."

Meadow met his eyes and said, shyly, "I'm sorry to make you spill your soul, there."

"I wanted to." He smiled, showing his buckteeth. "It's nice being honest for a change. I feel I can let down my guard around you. Even though we just met. It's ... I don't know. A relief," he said.

"I understand." She smiled herself, though she didn't know why. She just couldn't help it all of a sudden. "So, to be clear, your 'nice guy' routine is all a ruse, hmm?"

He giggled and winked. "Oh, entirely. I'm bad to the bone."

"Yet you dress like such a gentle-fur."

Fib, eyes glinting, murmured, "Just wait 'til you see my undressed." He took another quick sip of water and said, before the flustered female could start stammering, "I hope I didn't overstep my boundaries when we met," he quickly added. "Or that I'm not right now! If I come off too strongly-"

"No. No, I mean-" She fiddled with her silverware. "I wouldn't have called you if I didn't-" She trailed off. If I didn't like that. I'm so damn submissive. I must radiate passivity."I'm just kinda-"

"I get it. I mean, I picked up on that. I don't mind being the instigator. I know it's against type and our kind normally do a bit of a dance rather than say what we mean upfront, and ... didn't know if you were okay with putting that aside."

"It's, uh ... well-"

"But you can be as shy as you want." Fib smiled widely, buckteeth jutting. "I think it's cute."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It's mysterious and sweet and ... I don't know. Makes me want to protect you?"

Meadow rubbed at her cheeks.Good answer.

"So. Now that I've given you _my_life story ... "

Her whiskers twitched. "Right. Um-"

"What?"

"First off, I'm thirty-three."

The mouse looked her over and nodded. "M'kay."

"I just thought maybe you didn't know how old-"

"I'm twenty-seven. Went to grad school, so I got out at twenty-four."

"Oh. Well-"

"So, you're not robbing the cradle." He giggled. "Six years isn't exactly a generation gap, is it?"

"No. No ... "

"I don't care how old you are. Relax," he said gently.

Meadow, taking a deep breath, said, "You were right. Earlier. About me being ... you know, rural. I grew up north of the city. North of the suburbs of the city, even. Still live there. My grandparents' left me their little house when they passed. It's all paid off, so-" She took a deep breath. "Still hard, though. Living alone, trying to afford everything."

"I can imagine," he said softly.

"But it's ... I mean, I'm not very worldly."

"So, you never went off to college?"

"I sorta flunked out." She fiddled with her silverware. "I'm not really good at anything."Keep it up, Meadow. Lack of confidence is super sexy.

He gave her a warm, sympathetic look. "Nonsense. I'm sure you are."

The female harvest mouse just shook her head.

Another bucktoothed smile. "You're adorable, you know that? So disarming. You think you have walls up, but they're not impenetrable. You're so vulnerable on the inside that you can't fully hide it. It becomes you." He paused. "I feel an overwhelming compulsion to make you happy."

Her ears blushed. "What makes you think I'm not already?"

Fib didn't want to argue with her so just said, "Make you happier."

"And you think I could make you happy, too?"

"I haven't been with my own species since I left for college. I mean, there's been other mouses, other rodents, but-" He trailed off and whispered, "Eurasian harvest mouse? Gold-and-cream. Prehensile tail. Petite. Perfectly ... mm." He sighed. "The majority of mate-ships are same-species. Which makes sense. It's the only way to have children. That's how we all come to be here," he said obviously. "But-"

"I, uh-" She sighed heavily, closing her eyes. _Dammit._She tried to fight off the memories. "Fib. To be upfront, I don't-"

"Want kids?"

"No," she said, bracing for his disappointment. "I'm sorry."

"Guess what?" he whispered, leaning forward. "Neither do I."

She blinked, unable to hide her surprise.

"I've moved around so many times in the past few years. Maybe this will be my final stop, maybe not? Regardless, my current lifestyle necessitates a degree of freedom that, were I to have children, would be ... diminished," he decided. "And even I do achieve tenure somewhere--here, maybe--I still don't want the responsibility. The time and resources? I don't know. It's just not for me. I guess, to some, that makes me sound immature. But I have siblings who have babies on both arms. Nieces, nephews. They'll carry on the family name well enough."

"Is that why you've avoided your own kind? To avoid the risk of-"

"Maybe. Subconsciously. But, also, our particular species of mouse is native to Europe."

She nodded.

"A small group emigrated over here a hundred years ago or more. Numbers have grown, but we're still dwarfed by the ... not to be unkind, but the more 'plain' mouse varieties. It's just rare to casually bump into another golden-fur," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed.

He looked like he wanted to keep going, maybe say something specific, but before he could do so their food arrived. They continued to talk, though, about general things. This and that. Their interests. Their opinions on the latest news headlines. Afterward, he paid the bill and they put on their ear-mittens and woolen tail-socks--vulnerable appendages had to be protected from frostbite, after all--and left for the parking lot. They'd driven separately.

"I had a good time," Fib said. "I'll text or call you soon, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks. I'd, uh, like that," Meadow said, trying not to stammer.

The male harvest mouse leaned in and kissed her cheek, his breath billowing visibly around her whiskers, making them glisten with condensation. He gave her gloved paws a squeeze. "I know it's only eight o'clock, but I have to be in studio at four, so-"

"I understand."

"Gotta turn in early." He smiled. "Otherwise, I'd suggest dessert."

She blushed, wondering if that was a euphemism. As she got in her car and started the engine, she hoped it was.

"And, at the bottom of the hour, we take an other quick look at our forecast. It's a bit chilly out there, today, Fib."

It was Monday morning, 7:30 AM. Meadow, being a nude sleeper, wriggled into her bra and shuffled past the television. She wanted to check how cold it was going to be today. _I might need to wear my Butler basketball hoodie._And maybe she was hoping to see Fib ...

"That's right. Still ear-mitten and tail-sock weather for us fleshy-appendage types!"

Her boyfriend's voice. Wait. Boyfriend. Is that accurate? After _ one _ date? Well, one date and a promise for more. She stepped into her panties and wandered back to the television, which she kept in her bedroom. Her house was truly 'cozy,' and she didn't have a proper stand for it in the living room. Or a couch. Just chairs.

"There is the chance for a few snow showers late this afternoon and evening as another Clipper system dives across the Great Lakes," Fib said, standing in front of ever-changing animated maps. The harvest mouse used his prehensile tail as a pointer. "The better chance of snow, and I'm talking any consequential accumulation, will be in north-central Indiana. A few snow showers could mix with some rain during the afternoon. Afternoon highs will climb into the mid to upper 30s."

She sat on the end of her mattress and got sucked in. The power of 'mousey cuteness' was, indeed, potent. Even to another mouse such as herself. Maybe especially so.He looks and sounds so at ease. So handsomely wholesome. Mmf. I'd do- ... I mean, believe, anything he said. Also, if it's as cold as he's saying, why am I suddenly hot? She rubbed at her cheeks.

"Colder air will arrive behind the Clipper. Temperatures will fall into the low to mid 20s Tuesday morning with highs in the upper 20s. A few more flurries will be possible Tuesday. So, those of you headed out to the Pacers game tonight ... you _might_want to get there early. Whether you're in the town or out in the fields and meadows, brace for a wintry week. And keep it tuned here to Channel 18." He whipped his ropy appendage forward and pointed it at the camera. "We've got your tail."

"Sounds like it, Fib," the anchor lady at the desk said, the camera switching back to her. Some feline type. "Though I suspect the worst is yet to come. Now, speaking of sports, the local basketball teams were all in action over the weekend, and we turn to our sports anchor-"

Meadow turned the TV off. She knew the scores of the games already. Besides, I'm still only half-dressed. And haven't eaten breakfast. Mm. Was he name-dropping me during his forecast? He said 'meadows.' He was, wasn't he? She blushed. How'd he know I'd be watching? Am I more into him than I realize? Am I radiating it?

"Don't be such a schoolgirl," she mumbled to herself as she finished dressing and went to the kitchen for breakfast.

"So, how'd it go?" Petra asked, dragging out the word 'go,' during some downtime mid-morning.

Meadow, having returned from the break room with a mug of rooibos vanilla tea, blew at the steam and replied, "How'd, uh, what go?"

"Your date. With Meteorology Mouse."

"His name's Fib." Which the rat well knew. "And it ... it went fine."

"Fine?"

Meadow sat in her chair and put her tea mug down. "Well, he ... I mean, enough to warrant meeting again. He actually texted me a little while ago. I'm going to be his 'plus one' at the local Emmy ceremony next Saturday night. It's down in Bloomington." That's where the biggest state university was. It was about an hour's drive.

"Oh? Fancy."

Meadow gave the rat a look.

"What?"

"You have a lascivious look on your face."

"That's my normal look."

Meadow rolled her eyes. "We haven't-" She lowered her voice. "Haven't done it yet, if that's what you're wanting to know."

"Must be serious, then! Normally you screw 'em the first night," Petra said with a wink.

"You don't know that." She paused. Oh, wait. She does. "_I should just stop telling you how my dates go," Meadow mumbled, ears burning with embarrassment. _I need more friends.

"I'm just teasing."

Meadow sighed. "I know. I just ... he's nice. He's sweet." And, yeah, he's right. Sometimes, we get trapped in our roles. But that doesn't mean they're not genuine. "He's confident but without the rampant ego. I guess it's only been one date, though. I should give him time to disappoint me."

"Don't try and downplay what you feel. He's the same species as you."

"So?" Like I haven't noticed?

"You're approaching your mid-thirties. Maybe he gives you the urge to settle down a little?"

"You're doing the psychology stuff again," Meadow warned.

"It's only logical."

"I don't_want," she emphasized, "kids, if that's what you're talking about." _Haven't I told her that? Haven't I told everyone? Why don't people believe me? Why do they think I'm going to change my mind?

"It's not. Calm down."

"I am calm."

"I meant 'settling' as in commitment. Maybe you're tired of wandering, and maybe he seems cozy and familiar because he's ... well, sorta like you. You can't bounce around forever."

"Says who?"

"Fine. Maybe you can. But is that what you want? Hmm?"

Meadow's whiskers twitched. No. I don't. "I admit, when I look at him, I do see ... part of myself? His personality's completely different than mine, but at the same time ... it's not? It's hard to explain. I feel a kinship. So many of my partners have been predators. Not by design, but-" I'm submissive. They're numerous. They happen to bump into me and ply their wiles. They like to dominate me, and I like how safe I feel with them, how powerful they are, how that rubs off."But ... they don't really understand me. That's probably why it never lasts."

"And you feel he does?"

"He knows what it's like ... "Being on the other side of power. It wasn't easy being prey in a world built and controlled by predators. Sure, there was legal equality now. But it didn't always fully manifest itself in reality. "Maybe I'm projecting, though. Maybe I'm desperate." Scratch that. Not maybe. You _ are _desperate. God, I'm such a-

"Maybe you're over-thinking things a little," Petra countered. "Or a lot. You're a worrier. But you can't account for every scenario. Sometimes, you just gotta go with it. See what happens."

"Go with what?"

"The flow."

Meadow rolled her eyes. "And if it takes me over a cliff?"

Petra gave a bucktoothed grin. "Hopefully, there's water at the bottom."

"I'm sorry you didn't win." It was the following weekend, a Saturday evening. They were on their way back from Bloomington, an hour's drive. Meadow was in the passenger seat.

"Nah, don't be. I said I wouldn't, remember?" Fib paused, re-gripping the steering wheel. "Anyway, these things circle around. If you're in the same market long enough, eventually they'll give you one. Just gotta pay my dues."

"How many, uh, 'markets' have you been in, again?" Meadow squinted as headlights blinded her from the other side of the highway. Have I asked that already? I forget. He talks so much. Sometimes, I don't know what to say. I'd rather just listen.

"Three. Illinois, Michigan ... now here. The Midwest, really. I was born in Iowa."

"Oh?" _Makes sense._There was a large mouse population there. Meadow gazed out the passenger window. It was pitch dark out there, aside from those streaking headlights. It was also starting to snow. Visibility was on the decline. "Do you like it here?"

"Indiana?" He shrugged. "It's alright. Can be a little bland. But cost of living's good. And I've spent my whole life in the Midwest, so it's what I know."

"What if you were offered a job in a bit city on the Coast?"

"I don't think that's going to happen. Mouse anchors are definitely _not_a 'metropolis' thing. No, you gotta have a tougher image to make it there."

"Mm." She closed her eyes for a moment.

Smart enough to pick up her unspoken thread, he asked, "What about you? You ever lived outside of Indiana?"

"Never had a reason to." Never mind being able to afford it.

He nodded. "Well, never say never ... "

Not knowing what to say, she pointed at the radio. "Mind if I, uh ... "

"Oh, sure! Play what you want."

"Actually, I just wanted to check-"

"This is-"

"Butler."

"College, right? You have so many basketball teams here. A lot more than where I come from. I try to pay attention, but I can't watch most of the games cause-"

"I listen on the radio as much as I watch. Guess I could've checked the score on my phone, but-"

"It's fine." Quickly looking over his shoulder, Fib changed lanes. "Didn't take you for the sports type."

Meadow, having heard the score, turned the volume down. Her team was winning. "Well, just basketball, I guess. My dad's into it."

"You have any siblings?"

"No. Just me ... " Which made the whole being childless thing even more of an albatross around her neck. Her parents wanted grandchildren, and she was the only possible source of them. It's my life, not theirs. Why should I feel guilty? She didn't know. But she did.

They continued to talk. She found out that Fib came from a large family, the second-youngest of five children. Eventually, she turned the volume back up on the game, and they listened to the rest of it. When they got back to Fib's house on the north side of Indy, it was just after ten. And starting to snow so heavily it began to shroud everything. Being as tomorrow was Sunday, an off day for Fib, he didn't have to wake up--and therefore get to bed--so early.

"We're supposed to get two to three inches overnight," he said as they got out of his car. He had a garage, which she'd left her car in after meeting him here for the drive down. "Fluffy stuff. No ice, fortunately. Now, when it melts and refreezes next week ... " He trailed off. "Sorry. I'm lecturing you, aren't I?"

"I don't know anything about the weather. Science was never my strong suit." Do I even have any strong suits? Her whiskers twitched. Why are you always putting yourself down? He likes you. You should like yourself.

"Well, still." He paused, gesturing at a white door that led inside. "Would you like to come up for some-"

"I, uh, don't ... don't drink," she stammered quickly, "coffee."

"Who said anything about coffee?"

"Oh." She swallowed, feeling hotter. Oh!

"How 'bout some tea?"

"Oh ... "

"I know you drink that." Fib tilted his head. "You had some at your office?"

"Um, sure. Tea. Yeah. Um ... alright." So, wait ... I'm confused. Is he inviting me in for tea or _ sex _? I can't very well ask, can I? That would ruin the moment. I guess I'll just have to accept the invitation and find out ...

"You need anything from your car?" he asked.

Meadow shook her head. She had her purse. "No." Though she wished she'd worn warmer clothes. Even with her fur, she could feel the air. Both our dates, I've been in a dress. He's not going to recognize me when he finally sees me wearing jeans and a t-shirt like usual.

Fib closed the garage door, which lowered and clunked shut. He then unlocked a door to the house and ushered her inside. It was immediately warmer. Flicking on a light, he led the other mouse to his kitchen. "Bathroom's right there. You can put your coat and things anywhere."

Meadow put her coat aside and used the bathroom. Upon reemerging, she took a look around. Fib's living room windows faced what appeared to be a reservoir. He had a little backyard and even a dock (with no boat). Bet that's nice in the summer.

"I only have peppermint. Well. Candy cane something-or-another," Fib said, of tea options. "It's kind of sweet." He retrieved a pouch and put it into a mug, filling a pan full of hot water and putting it on the stove.

"That's fine," Meadow said distractedly.

"You like the view?"

"Mm. It's relaxing." Meadow nodded. I suppose the view from my windows is, too. Empty fields. Patches of woods. Peace. Quiet. But, sometimes, you get so used to things they stop having an impact. They're just ... there._Her whiskers twitched. _Describes most of my relationships. I haven't met anyone who can keep me stimulated in the long run.

"You live-"

"In the country."

"How far?"

"From here? Ten miles."

"Wow."

"It's not _that_far," she assured. "Twenty, thirty minutes. That's probably how far you are from your studio."

"True." After a minute of silence, he poured the steaming water into the tea mug, picking it up and walking over to her. "Here you go. Careful. It's hot."

"Thanks," she said, barely audible. "None for you?" She blew on the drink, breathing in the minty, sugary aroma.

"I'm okay. Sit down, though. The couch doesn't bite."

"Afraid I'm going to spill something."

"You'll be fine." He disappeared for a moment, presumably to use the bathroom himself.

Meadow sat down on the couch. It's always strange being in someone else's home for the first time. It's like being in a foreign environment.

Fib, upon return, sank down into the middle cushion with a sigh.

Meadow sipped at her tea. Not bad. Bit of an aftertaste. Must be the 'natural flavors.' She smacked her lips, blowing at the steam and trying to anchor herself in the moment. There's no reason to worry about the past or overly-anticipate the future. Just be. Just be ... zen-something._She rolled her eyes. _Yeah, right.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing her expression.

"Yeah. I just-" Another sip. She then searched for a place to put her mug down. She found a coaster on the glass coffee table before them and placed it there. Hugging herself, she continued, "It's just impossible for me to relax. A dark night, a cozy place. Tea. Company? You'd think I'd be able to." I'm broken. Doesn't he know that? Isn't it written all over my muzzle?

"I know what you mean. That's the curse of being a mouse." He scooted a bit closer to her. "But prey are survivors. We'll find a way." He sounded so sure of that. Why can't I ever be that confident? Or at least fake it?

She nodded, turning her head to meet his gaze. That look. I know that look. It's-

A kiss! Initiated by him. Their whiskers brushed, suddenly tangling and twitching together with building energy.

Meadow's eyes closed. She didn't fight it. Her paws went to him, his shirt. She bunched up the fabric, tugging at him.

"Mmmm," the male harvest mouse squeaked, twisting his maw. Their lips smacked apart. He panted, bowing his head to suck at her cheek-fur and nibble on her white, creamy neck.

Sighing, eyes peeking back open, her golden head lolled aside.

He murmured, following her pulse down to her clothed bosom. Meanwhile, his tail quietly, deftly began to snake under under her dress, coiling around her thigh, the tip creeping up, up, inch by inch.

"I, uh-" She sighed, shivering hotly. "Oh ... " The tip of his tail had wormed into her panties and was wiggling past her petals.

"Mm?" he prodded.

"I, uh-" She drew a slow, gasping breath. He'd penetrated her. With his tail. At least a few inches of it, easing in, pulling out. In, out ... in, out ... I guess I masturbate using my tail all the time. I mean, if it's good for it, why not?

"You like that?" he murmured.

She gave a faint nod, hoping he could detect it.

"Good." He kept at it for a little while longer before he withdrew his appendage, moving the tip, on its own accord, toward his muzzle. He sucked her juices off. "Mm."

Oh, my god. She felt dizzy with a rush of arousal.

"Wanna eat your pussy," he casually informed her, tail drifting away.

"Y ... y-yeah?" she said, barely audible. I guess I was invited in for both tea _ and _sex.

"Mm-hmm." He leaned in and mouthed on her cheek. A pink paw slid under her shirt, fingers splayed, rubbing against her soft, short pelt. "Since I saw you."

"Any ... any particular reason?" she squeaked, panting, squirming, beginning to lean back a bit. In response, Fib was practically climbing on top of her.

"Just something I like to do," he finally replied. "Like to taste a girl, feel her warm thighs on either side of my head, to feel her quake, hear her cry as I-"

"Yes ... please," she begged.Yes. That. Uh-huh.

"Can I take you to the bedroom?" he cooed.

If I go in there, I'm not coming out until morning. That means we'll probably become an item. That means commitments. That means worrying about keeping him excited, trying not to let him down. That means-

"I want to show you how much I like you." He kissed his way to her lips. "Don't you like me, too?"

"I do. I'm ... I'm just-"

Another kiss.

"Mmh." Her nose sniffed. She twisted her head aside, opposite his, lips sliding, meshing. And then smacking aparm.

"Hmm?" he prodded.

"I'm nervous," she said honestly.

"Why? You're not a virgin ... are-"

"No. No," she quickly affirmed. "I'm not ... I just-" She paused. "It's been so long since I've been with my own species."

"Me, too. But I want it ... I want you," he said, "so much I can barely think! I promise you," he told her, "you're not going to disappoint me."

"But I'm not on ... " She faded out. Why do I feel so embarrassed talking about necessary, adult things? "I'm not on birth control, cause I never ... I mean, I never hook up with other mouses."

"I'll wear protection," he promised, stroking her body. He cupped her cheek in a paw.

Her ears burned. "Do ... do you have-"

He nodded and kissed her again.

"Mm ... "

"Meadow," he said, just to feel her name tumble off his tongue.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mind not bringing home any trophies tonight ... because I already had gold with me." He ran his paws through her pelt. "No matter what happened, I was already a winner."

Her eyes watered. Don't cry, don't cry, don't-

"Hey," he breathed.

Sniffling, Meadow whispered, "I'm okay ... " Are you, though? He can't fix you. A relationship can't mask your deficiencies. Intimacy is just a band-aid. But what if it was? It was better than bleeding out from loneliness.

The trip to the bedroom was a blur. Did he carry me? I think he did. I don't remember walking. I don't remember taking my clothes off.

The next thing she did_remember was his head between her bent, spread legs, his pointed, whiskered muzzle digging into her sex, his tongue swirling and scooping with the hunger of a starving beast. _He wasn't kidding when he said he likes to do this! He didn't have the wildest tongue. But, oh, the diligence, the finesse. He didn't let up until her whole body was vibrating. She squeaked and writhed and-

Oh! Oh, god!

"Meadow?" he went, chest heaving for breath. He lifted his head, whiskers glistening with her juices.

She didn't answer. Couldn't, really. She was in a haze, a fog descending over her. She wiggled her toes and open and closed her paws. Even they_felt good. "Mm?" she finally went. _He did say my name ... right?

"I can give you more than that. If you want it ... "

He's going- ... we're going to? Don't freak out. Play it cool. "Uh-huh."

The other mouse was unable to contain his excitement. He made an outright show of pawing at his thick cock, nursing his erection to a respectable stiffness and height. He then reached past her, to a stand beside his bed, pulling open a drawer to retrieve a condom. He tore open the package (which Meadow just managed to read in the dark: Thinnest Invisible, Rodent Type) and placed the rubber ring at his blunt, smooth tip, gently and thoroughly rolling it down. His cock was now covered in clear, snug latex, which shined a little bit in the incidental light coming through the window.

Meadow panted as she watched this. It made her wet. Or wetter, at least. I didn't realize safe sex was one of my fetishes? Also, I should get back on birth control so I can feel him without the barrier. She licked her lips. She was so horny. Too horny.Why don't you just see how this goes before you start planning for the next time?

Fib crawled toward her on all fours, cock dangling between his legs, heavy, furred balls swinging. His tail curled in the air like a question mark. "How shall we do this? Missionary, face-to-face? So I can steal your breaths with endless kisses? So you can taste yourself on my tongue?"

No answer. She just huffed, a paw sliding down her body. She began to rub at her clitoris, on her back beneath him. "Mmm ... "

"Mm, that's it. Touch yourself. Maybe, as you do that, I'll roll you onto your belly, yank your hips up? Mount you from behind like an animal? Is that what you want? Wild and wanton, breathing hotly into your ears, knowing you're so far beyond blushing that I can say anything? Hump you so hard the bed creaks and bounces and you wonder if you're still bound by gravity ... "

"Yes!" she begged.

"Yes to what?" he teased, caressing her pussy with his fingers. He then took her paws, her wrists, and pinned her arms above her head on either side of the pillow her head sank into.

"Just ... please. Please," she whimpered.

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me," she whimpered. "The ... the face-to-face one ... " I want to be able to hug him. And for him to hug me. I want to be in somebody's arms.

Fib obliged, releasing her paws. He laid atop her, hugging her, angling his hips into position. She was already wet. Wet and ready. And he was stiff and needy. It didn't take much to make the connection. The hilt was gentle and easy. He gyrated, grinding against her a little.

A gasp. "Mm! Mm ... " She wrapped her legs around him. Arms, too.

"Thaaaat's it," he slurred gently, nosing at her neck as he began to ease his hips back and forth.

Meadow arched beneath him.

Lacking self-control, he abandoned his lazy rhythm and picked up the pace, soon rutting her like a feral beast. His hips motored, pounding, balls slapping, cock spearing her lewdly over and again. "Yeah ... ohhh, yeahhh ... "

Meadow's world spun. She lost track of everything but him and her. His scent surrounded her. The scent of her own species. Her kind. She felt her sex clamp down on him, something building deep insider her. A wave, a tsunami. Then it all crashed against her! Spasms and tremors! Her second climax of the night. "Uhn, uh ... oh!"

"Ah, ah ... AH!" the male whined, shaking, having an orgasm of his own. His cock jerked and jumped. Meadow could feel it moving, pulsing, its seed safely caught in its skin-tight sleeve.

She slumped, eyes closing. "Mm ... " How long were we at it? Minutes? Hours?

"That ... that was good," he murmured, licking his dry lips and then licking her cheeks for affectionate measure.

Meadow, catching her breath, could only nod, head-fur rustling on her pillow.

Fib slowly pulled out of her, sighing with post-coital sensitivity. He then unrolled the filled, heavy-tipped condom off his shrinking cock and tossed it to the bedside stand. It landed with a faint splat.

Meadow blushed.

He smiled and nakedly, comfortably sprawled beside her. "Wanna lay on top of me?" he said.

She nodded, and they reversed positions from where they were a minute ago. He kissed her shoulders and neck, rubbing his paws up and down her back.

She tilted her muzzle, rubbing it against his, and-

More kissing.

She whimpered a bit, lips smacking, whiskers brushing delicately. I think I can still taste myself on him ...

When the kiss broke, he whispered, "Mind if we save the shower 'til morning? I'm honestly about to pass out. This is-" He yawned, buckteeth flashing. "Mm. Way past my normal bedtime, even on weekends." He gave a very tired smile.

"I didn't mean to keep you up," she said.

"Don't you dare apologize," he replied, a paw on her head. He cupped her cheek. "I've never been so happily exhausted."

"Never?" she whispered, noses touching.

"Mm-hmm." Another kiss, this one short and sweet. "Mm. You were wonderful. You are wonderful. It was worth it."

"T-thanks. You ... you are, too," she replied. "Wonderful, I mean. And worth it. And, uh-" You're stammering again. You've just shared the most personal experience you can ever share with someone. Shouldn't that engender confidence?

He just smiled, yawned even more widely than before, and closed his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."

"So am I," she replied, resting her head against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, his breaths. In a few more minutes, he was fast asleep. She then carefully slid off his body and laid on her side next to him. I'm not tired yet. What should I do? Get up and walk around his house? I can't do that ... can I? I mean, we just had sex, so I'm not a 'stranger,' but ...

Addicted to his warmth, she stayed in bed, pulling the covers over them both. I wonder what we'll do tomorrow? Go out for breakfast? Take in a movie? Make love again ... ? Thinking about the possibilities, Meadow felt an excitement that had been missing lately. Here's hoping it decides to stay.

It might've be snowing outside, but that was misleading. Her personal forecast was sunny and warm.