FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When I have incentives like a stud of a dog waiting for me on the other side of the planet, you'd be surprised how ruthless and efficient a fox I can be! I needed no more than a couple of days to shut up the business, transfer my money to London so that it would be waiting for me on arrival, and pack everything I owned into one very large suitcase.

"I'll give ya' two grand f..."

"Sold!"

And that was my car gone. I don't think the guy could believe his luck when I cut him off and put out my paw to shake on the deal. But I didn't care! As much as my Dad wasn't in my best books, I still left the flat tidy, an old high school photo of my graduation the sole occupant of the now empty home. I wanted to leave at least something.

Klaus had been diligent in his desires to get me to the UK, and about a week before I made the phone call to my folks, probably the most insistent hint yet hit my mailbox. It was a special occupational visa for entry and settling in England, sent by priority and stamped with my name, paw print and scent. Sneaky dog must've done all this whilst I was half-insensible; but I found it real romantic, and a relief in so many ways. I didn't know whether I'd be turned back at customs if I didn't say or do the right thing. This was my ticket to ride!

There was a note with it, which was patched with roundels of damp; he wrote it whilst crying.

This is for you. I really hope you jump a plane and use it, because I'm

never going to be the same without you.

_ _

Love, K

xxxxx

I clutched it tight to my chest as I rode in a taxi to the coach station, then onto the bus for O'Hare. It was weird to be leaving, seeing the rush of commuter traffic, the billboards, the heat and concrete of Interstate ninety-four. The only thing that made me tear-up was the thought that I might be too late, that Klaus might've forgotten me, given up on my coming and moved on. This was a huge pawstep in my life, and a vast risk from which there was little going back.

I remembered that Klaus flew British Airways last time, and booked a ticket with them. I didn't know whether they were the only UK airline or what; I'd never flown long-haul, and was terribly nervous at check-in and security. My get-up didn't really turn heads, mixing well with all the executive types heading for Europe and the Middle East. I'd dressed as though going to an interview, in full business formal with a dressed tail and swept head fur. I guess first impressions are real important to me, no matter what I'm doing. Couldn't hurt; and besides, I was amazed at how much better they treated tails with the full get-up.

I'm not gonna' say that I really enjoyed the flight. It's a weird sensation, and being in the same row as a bunch of screaming cubs didn't make for the most restful eight hours of my life. Could I sleep? Could I fuck! Not that that was the cubs' fault; my stomach was doing somersaults, my tail growing stiff with nerves and my nose going dry and stale. It was terribly nerve-wracking and awesome all at once. I'd kept one of Klaus's more subtle and G-rated photos in my wallet, and I'd flick it open to gaze on those gorgeous hazel eyes looking out at me, undressing me, making me want for what lay under that thin, summer clothing.

I'd kiss the picture wishing I could feel his tongue down my throat. I'd sniff it wishing that it was his ass or his huge bollocks after a long day at work. I'd keep it close, because that's how he'd show me that he truly cared. The cuddles, the kisses and the soft whisper of that amazing accent. I'd be hearing more of it now, almost constant in fact, which made me wonder whether Klaus's voice would truly be the unique, hard-on-making diction I would always crave.

Having landed in London and struggled over to the info desk in terminal one, I spluttered and blushed my way through asking how to get to the city centre. Klaus had told me that he worked at somewhere called St Mary Axe, which confused even them. I was so fucking lost, and I'd only been here ten minutes! Apparently I had to take the metro, or the "tube" as they called it, and get off at somewhere called Aldgate.

So off I pad, suitcase in tow down towards the platforms and the trains heading to Cockfosters. I had to have a giggle at that! The funny names and the very difficult to understand London accents aside, my joy at being in the UK was mixed as everyone seemed very nervous of one another. Real busy and every train was packed full; but very few wanted to talk or help me out or direct me in any way. Everyone was in such a fuckin' rush! I stepped on several tails on my way, batted several others with my own and battled through the crowds to just either get on or get off a carriage. Nightmare!

Anyway, so I get to this Aldgate station and I see a taxi rank and think 'thank fuck for that!'

"Alwight son! Where we off to today?"

"Um, I... I'm meeting a friend at this big tower block thing, I..."

"Loadsa them in Landon mate. You got a name?"

I was close to panicking now. I'd survived the haunting stuffiness of a jam-packed tube line, but now I was faltering in the stuffy city heat above ground.

"It's got a funny, weird name, um..." I was drawing a complete blank, sat in the back of this idling taxi and no doubt becoming the bane of other passengers waiting behind, "it's like... the pickle or something. The big cucumber? Not cucumber, what was it? Aubergine maybe?"

"The Gherkin."

"That's it, that's precisely it!" I bounced on my tail as I heard it, relieved that someone was able to get to grips with my complete lack of local knowledge, "if you could take me there, that would be great."

I felt so awkward, tired and out of place. I could barely understand the driver as his accent was so thick. If I kept smiling and nodding, keeping my eyes and nose ahead to gaze back into his rear view mirror, it would seem like I was keeping up with whatever he had to say. Somethin' about soccer I think, and the weather; and somethin' about me not being "from 'rand ere".

It was a short journey, the taxi pulling up against the sidewalk across the road from the entrance. I left my wallet and promised to be back in a matter of minutes; I was so desperate to surprise Klaus at work. My nose was full of chill evening air, stripped bare with diesel and petrol fumes, the smell of snack bars opening up and the warmth of vast acres of glass glowing in the cloudy sunset. I made a dash for it across the road, my tail trailing in my wake and got through the doors into this ultra-swish lobby; but I wasn't gonna waste any time. And that's when the day took a turn for the worse.

He'd left a quarter an hour before I arrived. Clocked out, tired and gone, out into the London night and barely a trace to follow. I couldn't have his contact details cos' I wasn't family or anythin', and all they could do was let him know come the following morning. The rush and the excitement, the close-heat of a dying day and the boredom of a chattering city had just come down around me. It filled my head with all those doubts again, simple things that shouldn't bother me but do. If I wasn't lost before, I sure as shoot was now! Stupid fuckin' fox! Come all this way without letting him know? Was I expecting him to be clairvoyant!? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"You OK, guv'nor?"

I slumped back into my seat, tail flopped to one side and the eyes and ears of the driver turned to face me once more.

"I missed my friend, I... I don't suppose you know a cheap hotel anywhere do you?"

He looked askance at me for a second, before turning in his seat, the smell of cigarettes deep in that tan Alsatian fur and the hover of his ragged tail nothing but a high strike of confidence in this dreary, thankless task.

"Who ya' missed?"

"Um, his name is Klaus. Klaus Cholmondely. I... I was gonna surprise him and now I feel like a fool for havin' flown all this way."

"Cholmondely huh? You my son are in luck!"

"I... I am?" I don't think the quirks in his accent could've been any more stereotypical and cute all at the same time.

"Sure you are. Drive the lad all the time I do. Stocky fella', black and tan fur, classic dober dog if there ever was one."

"Yeah... yeah, that's him. You know where he lives?"

He turned over his shoulder again, grinning as his graying, gruff old muzzle brushed against the fluffy dice hanging from his mirror.

"Good to see the ginger beer still flowin'!"

"Excuse me?"

But he just turned back to his steering wheel and pointed to an old wallet sized photo of a similar aged dog, thinner with more delicate paws and greyer body fur.

"He ain't my father, catch my drift young fox?"

I suddenly felt so much more at home, relaxing back as I was driven across the city, reliant solely on my newfound friend's memory of Klaus's home address.

"E's done pretty well for 'imself, ain't 'e?" He pulled us up opposite a series of plush apartments, straining his head to look and shuffling a paw to bat with thought against the outside of his car door.

I could only agree. It was a beautiful area, away from the hustle and bustle, and opposite the most wonderful park. The nighttime gloom was starting to set in and the orange glow of the city lights set bushes, trees and grass aflame in a sherbet haze. The calm wouldn't last long, as the air was heavy and humid, and storm clouds were gathering, full to bursting.

The glow of the meter and his dashboard was all that struck light to the driver's muzzle, his ears chipped and chiseled like moth-eaten placemats; but there was this overwhelming sense and smell in his body that made me sure he was genuinely trying to help.

"Now, I dunno which of these posh things 'e lives in, mate. But if you ask at that reception door there, you see it.... just over the road. You see it?" He was pointing across the passenger side seat and out onto the sidewalk where a porch was lit up in topaz blue and white, "just there, mate. Ask for 'im and I'm sure they'll let you on up."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." I had strained forward, my tail batting higher now with knowing that I was in the right place, a safe haven that took me away from the crowds and let me find my own footpaws, "how much do I owe you?"

"For you mate, a fiver! And let that boy of yours know that Alf says buy 'im a pint!"

"Buy you a pint. Right." I just frowned and smiled, noting his every comedic nuance that made me realize a lot of what everyone had told me about England was oh so right.

I handed him his fare and lumbered myself out... into the pouring rain. Paws damnit! The heavens had opened, so I scuttled across the road with my collar high up my ruff and my tail bravely tucked as far away from the rain as I could. The smell of warm bitumen, delicate wafting food and wet foliage soared into me, my right paw aching on the handle of the suitcase I'd dragged half way across the city.

I was a mix of emotions when the concierge directed me up to Klaus's flat. My head was spinning and throbbing all at once, my fur felt gritty and matted, and my whole demeanor had just gone droopy since leaving the comfort of the taxi far behind. To be fair, I was out on my paws! Glad for the elevator that's for darned sure.

And would you believe it?! I get to his door and he isn't in! I waited and waited for a reply to my knocking, but in the end just gave up, slumping down to sit on top of my suitcase with my head in my paws. I was fucking soaking through, my tail was dripping to the carpet and my headache was turning into a migraine of epic proportions. Perhaps this was the final straw, that I'd come all this way and he wasn't interested. He'd left work before I'd got there, and gone out to get laid somewhere. He was bound to find someone a lot more sexy and interesting than me; and this was all my mind could conjure. Over and over and over, I sat torturing myself as the sabred fur on my head dribbled long strands of rainwater to the floor, my ears flopped over with the payload.

The lights of the corridor were hazy and fondant, vaguely orange to match the glow of the city outside. The thunder made me jump, clutching at my poor chest and feeling my tail go cold. I hated this, possibly more than I could ever imagine. Everything was going wrong, or had gone wrong, and now I was this stranded soul, miles from everyone I ever knew, in an apartment block that was way over my head financially and socially.

I couldn't have been more out of place, a limp sprig of auburn heather waiting out the storm so that I may pick myself up and get back on track with.... well, again, there was no plan. There never was. I had winged it, and now I was paying the price.

"Scotty?"

I can safely say that that was the best sound I'd ever heard. My head shot up and my ears turned and there, standing at the end of the hallway, was Klaus. The thud of his big paws on the carpeted floor trod closer and closer, the vague scents of alcohol, sweat and cologne coming with him on the stuffy draught.

"You came." He knelt down to me, a paw on my left knee and that lyrical voice soothing into my tired head.

"I... I thought I'd l... lost you." I just burst into tears and fell forward, clutching him tight and resting my muzzle on his jacketed shoulder, "pl... please let me... let me stay. I d..don't want to be without you anymore."

I could feel his hot breath on the side of my neck, and his kiss linger atop my rather floppy right ear. The smell of him close to me was just the best. It was something of which I could never grow tired. Speaking of which, I sniffled and snuffled against him even as he withdrew, a paw stroking my muzzle and that gorgeous smile lifting out of that suede tan maw.

"Welcome home, foxy fox."

So that's how it all happened. We still live in the same flat on the Kensington Road, and I started work with Klaus a couple of weeks after I arrived.

Would I change anything? Not on your life! And besides, I still get to take trips down memory lane every now and again.

"Mmm you know how much I loooove seeing you in that!" Klaus would murmur as he lay barefurred and tummy down on our big bed as I came waltzing in wearing only that skimpy, tartan kilt.

A fox in a dress huh?! How cliché!