The Other Side
#4 of Sheila
"Mike," Hellen yelled into the phone, "Answer your damn cell!" She slammed the receiver into the cradle, an abuse that Sheila didn't think was necessary. Hellen stomped off, up the stairs, and in to her room, each step thundering her frustration. Sheila stood in the kitchen, looking at the phone, wanting to reach out her hand, grab the receiver, and dial Mike's number.
Part of her wanted to, anyway. The other part told her to let the bastard run. It has been a week since the fox took her virginity, and he'd done nothing but avoid her entire family. In school, he stayed away from his group of friends, which included Hellen, and outside school, he wouldn't answer any calls, wouldn't answer his door, or have his mother tell people he wasn't home when they knew he was.
Sheila felt hurt, betrayed, but at the same time, she didn't blame him. She sort of pushed him into having sex with her. He had tried to resist, but she was persistent, and by that time, neither of them were thinking with their brains. And then it happened; Mike, a seventeen year old fox, had sex with Sheila, a thirteen year old kitten.
She remembered every detail, every kiss, every touch, but what she remembered the most was afterwards, wanting to be held by him, and he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. She cuddled up to him, trying to melt in to him, but he was an icy block, stiff and rigid. After a few minutes, he simply said, "I gotta go," and then put his clothes back on and left. She had cried for the rest of the day, brought herself together enough to eat dinner with the family, and then cried all night.
But that all had been a week ago, and she had enough time since then to ponder on everything, and decided that Mike needed time to think about what they'd done, too. At least he didn't tell anyone. That was a weight off her mind.
She sighed, and poured herself a glass of water and went through her to-do list in her head. Math homework, vacuum the living room, do the dishes, get ready for Marcy's visit... She looked down at herself, and decided she was as ready as she was ever going to be. Pants? Check. Shirt? Check. Underwear? Double check.
Marcy had been her best friend for three years, doing all the things that best friends did, share clothes, giggle at boys, watch the porn that they found under Hellen's bed together, put on their mother's clothes and pretend that they were really, really old (much to her mother's dismay), practice kissing on each other, share books. And then, one day, Marcy said, simply, "I don't want to be friends any more," and then left her. After that, the raccoon had started spreading nasty rumors about her, and, in general, was a huge jerk.
And then, one day, she called and apologized. It wasn't a long plea for forgiveness, nor was it an explanation. All she did was say, "I'm sorry," and then hung up. Sheila wasn't even sure it actually happened.
A few days ago, though, she had called again, and asked if they could meet, talk, hang out. Sheila was half-tempted to blow her off, and call her one of the many colorful, inventive names she had silently come up with while enduring the sticks and stones of pre-teen stupidity.
Her dad walked through the living room, clutching something to his chest and glancing nervously around, like an art-thief about to open his cache while the cops were after him. He caught sight of Sheila looking at him, and gave her a cheery wave before disappearing into the garage.
Sheila shook her head, thinking, 'poor dad. He lives in a house filled with three women, one of them being a neat-freak, health-nut mother.' Everything in the house was clean to the point of looking brand new, with frills and potpourri and little boxes that had nothing in them, and Dad had nowhere to go to be a man, except the garage. He'd made it his sanctuary - tools, grease, car parts, a mini-fridge and a pool table - a place where he could go and be a man. Sheila had her suspicions that he was secretly trying to install a toilette in there, so he could pee and not worry about mom nagging him when he missed.
Of course, it wasn't quite fair to call her mom a health-nut, when she was a nurse. The woman witnessed first-hand the effects of bad diets and sloth every day, and it was understandable that she didn't want that for her kids. Smoking was so strictly banned in their house that Hellen was grounded for a month when she was caught with a cigarette in her backpack. Sheila still cringed at the memory of her mother's tirade. "Holding it for someone else my ASS! You're going to die of lung cancer! Now get to your room and don't come out until you're old enough to not be an idiot!"
Hellen actually was holding it for someone else, Sheila knew (she had eaves-dropped in on the conversation), but she was an idiot for bringing it into the same house as mother, anyway.
No hormone-treated milk, no high fructose corn syrup, no McCorporateDeathBurger (or, at least, that's what Dad calls it), sometimes Sheila felt like she was missing out on a whole other world, but, then again, she'd tried McCorporateDeathBurger once, and she could see why it had earned that title.
There was a knock on the door, and Sheila snapped out of her mental rambling. It took her a minute to even think about gathering the courage to open the door. A year ago, she would have rushed out there and playfully pounced on the raccoon, but now? She was half expecting there to be paint-filled water balloons, a video camera, and half her class laughing at her on the other side.
With that in mind, she opened the door slowly, and peeked around from behind it, using it like a shield. "Hello?" she said.
Marcy was there, alone, looking intently at her feet, which were shifting around nervously. "Hi," she said, and nothing more. They stood there for a moment, neither of them knowing what to do or say. Eventually Marcy spoke up, "Can I come in?"
Sheila glanced around the yard, noticing a severe lack of video cameras and water balloons. Finally, she nodded, "Yah, come in," and opened the door wide enough to allow the raccoon, and only the raccoon.
Marcy was a cute, young raccoon, with gray fur and black bands around her bushy tail. The dark spots around her eyes drooped down, making her look sad all the time, like she had massive amounts of mascara on, and it had all run down her face in a solid streak when she'd been crying about whatever. Sheila could have believed that Marcy had been crying, right now, from the look on her face. The young raccoon looked miserable.
"Where is everyone," she asked, trying to make small talk.
Sheila shrugged. "Dad's in the garage, Hellen's sulking upstairs, and mom's... I think she's doing laundry."
"Oh... well..." She held herself, rubbing her shoulder. "Can we talk in your room?"
Sheila nodded, and they headed downstairs. As they crossed through the hallway that separated the stairwell, laundry room, and Sheila's room, her mom called over her shoulder, "Sheila? Could you bring this basket-" she began, but stopped when she looked. Uncertainty flickered across her face. "Oh," she said, "Marcy. It's... you."
Marcy looked like she wanted to die. She gave mom a half-hearted wave and mumbled, "hello". Sheila shrugged.
"Will you..." She began, searching for a way to handle the situation, "Will you be staying for dinner?"
Marcy shrugged. "Probably not."
"Oh," said mom, "Okay."
"C'mon," Marcy mumbled, and headed for Sheila's room.
Mom looked at Sheila, as if to say, "What the fuck?"
Sheila shrugged again, and followed Marcy.
Marcy closed the door behind her, looking about as if trying to find hidden cameras. Her nervousness reminded Sheila of Mike, right before they had sex so much that she suddenly wanted to cry, but she held it back, determined to see this through.
Marcy sighed, then sat down on Sheila's bed, bouncing a couple of times, and a wistful smile crossed her lips. "Remember jumping on all the blankets and pillows on the floor?"
Sheila nodded slowly, not sure of what to think of the situation. She glared at the raccoon.
"Okay, look," said Marcy, throwing her hands up in surrender, "I'm sorry, okay? For all of it. I'm sorry."
Sheila shook her head. "Why'd you do all those things? The rumors, the tricks, turning everyone against me? Why? What did I do to you?" She crossed her arms across her chest, glaring even harder.
Marcy clutched her paws to her chest, her tail drooping, ears laying flat on her head. "I said I'm sorry, okay?" Her voice was full of pleading, the corner of her eyes filling with tears. "I... I didn't know what to think... and I... I was afraid!"
"Afraid?" shouted Sheila, flexing her paws, unsheathing her claws and retracting them again. "Afraid of what? Me?"
"Of how I felt," Marcy shouted back, standing up suddenly, reaching for Sheila's paw, but Sheila took a step back. "You and me? When we watched that movie your sister had? I..." She hung her head, unable to say it.
"What," Sheila demanded.
"I couldn't help but think of you. I... wanted to do that with you!"
It was as if Marcy had hit Sheila upside the head with a baseball bat. Her limbs went limp, and memory flooded back.
They were sitting on the couch, no one home, curtains pulled shut, door locked both ways, and still Marcy was nervous. The room was dark, except the glow from the TV screen, where two wolves were mating passionately, several different times, in many different angles, and a couple different holes. The whole thing was a half hour, and they'd watched it all. Marcy kept fidgeting, clutching a pillow tightly. She kept glancing to Sheila, and then glancing at the window, as if at any moments her parents could peep in and ground her for life.
"I... I like you, Sheila," said Marcy, softly. "I couldn't help but think of you, and... I don't know... just... you and me... and... you know how my dad is... He hates 'the gays.'" She rubbed her shoulder, hugging herself. "I didn't know what to do... so... I thought... I thought if I pushed you away, it would all go away..."
Sheila was left breathless, her knees failing her. She slowly sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged, her gaze distant....
On the other side of the thin, plywood door, Sheila's mother leaned back and clasped her hands to her mouth to keep from gasping. Her ear hurt from pressing it so hard against the door in an effort to hear more.
She had a moral struggle. Listening in on such an intimate moment was a huge invasion of privacy... but then again, she had her duty as a mother to oversee her daughter's path through life, and gently guide her... she shook her head. That was such bullshit. She didn't have a reason to listen in. She admitted to the fact that she was being extremely nosey, came to terms with it quickly, and then pressed her ear to the door again.
"Sheila," said Marcy, shrinking away, on the edge of tears. "Sheila, say something. Please. Anything. Forgive me. Tell me to go to hell... just say something..."
Sheila didn't know what to think. She wasn't against homosexuality. She didn't much understand it, but her dad had taught her that when the other kids say something like, "Ew, that's gay," they were being bigoted jerks, and really they only say that because their vocabulary isn't good enough to use the proper word. Sheila didn't see any reason why people can't just love each other, but she never considered it for herself.
Marcy had slumped down on the bed, her chin to her chest, still rubbing her shoulder. "I..." Sheila, and Marcy looked up, "I don't know...I mean... You... you said a lot of mean things..."
Marcy lowered her head again. "I know. I'm sorry," she muttered into her chest.
Almost a full year, though Sheila, a full year of rumors and teasing... and she's the one that's on the verge of crying? She looks so sad...
"Do you promise that it won't happen again?"
Marcy nodded. Her voice was a mix of indignant and pleading when she said, "I stopped, didn't I?" but she remembered herself and said, meekly, "Yes, I promise." And then again, more firmly, "I promise."
Sheila nodded, then stood and walked over to the bed. She sat down next to a surprised Marcy, and put her arm around the raccoon's waist and giving it a squeeze, resting her head on Marcy's shoulder. It was soft and inviting, warm. "Then, I forgive you," said the kitten, softly.
Marcy slid her arms around Sheila, and they hugged. Marcy's scent was so warm, so familiar. Sheila felt weird for smelling her friend like that until she heard Marcy doing it, too. She giggled and let go of her friend. They sat back and smiled at each other, and awkwardness began to sink in.
Marcy took a deep breath, leaning forward, she kissed Sheila on the lips, very lightly. It was like an electric shock to her heart. All of Sheila's breath left her, and all of a sudden she didn't know how she felt. So many questions raced through her mind, but were silenced by Marcy puckering her raccoon lips and kissing her again, this time leaning in to it, wrapping her arms around Sheila, and Sheila was surprised to find that she was doing the same. They kissed once, twice, three times again, and Marcy pushed Sheila over and lay on top of her, kissing again and again.
Sheila was blushing under her fur, embarrassed to feel moisture between her legs. She wanted Marcy to touch her there, and she found herself wondering what Marcy's juices taste like.
Marcy's hand found its way on Sheila's breast, rubbing and massaging it, making Sheila breathe heavily. And then, suddenly, Marcy broke off the kiss. Sheila was half expecting Marcy to pull out a video camera and yell, "surprise," but the raccoon girl simply looked down into her eyes, searching their teal depths, and whispered, "I love you."
Sheila didn't know what to say. She spent the last six months despising and loathing this girl, and now, suddenly, here she was, in her arms, warm, loving, the patches of dark fur around her rich, brown eyes making her look so sad...
She couldn't find the words. All she could do was lift herself up and mash her lips against Marcy's, messing it up a bit, their teeth bumping together. They kissed and kissed, licking at each other's lips, stroking their paws over each other's body.
And then, on the other side of the door, her mother called, "Sheila, Marcy, dinner in five minutes."
Marcy and Sheila's lips parted, and they both blushed fiercely under their fur. They were sweaty, their fur mussed and messy, they were out of breath, and Sheila was certain that she had a moist spot that went through her jeans.
They both spent the next five minutes cleaning themselves, rubbing their fur back the right way, catching their breath, exchanging quick, embarrassed glances at each other. Despite changing in front of Marcy before, Sheila now felt shy about it, so she simply slipped a skirt over her jeans, stuffing her tail through the hole in the back, snuggling them on and making sure that it completely hid the dark patch on her pants, hoping that Marcy didn't notice.
Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Any time that Hellen's gaze wandered in Marcy's direction, Hellen would glare at her. Her dad, who normally was lively and cracking jokes at the dinner table, was silent, his head down, focusing on eating his pizza.
Her mother, on the other hand, while barely touching the pizza, was a well of conversation. "So, Marcy, how's school?" It was a question she always asked, before Marcy became confused.
"It's okay. Too much math homework, but I'm really doing well in my English class."
"Well, that's good. Hellen's always been good at English, too. She gets that from her father."
Without looking up, Sheila's dad mumbled, "Every fair from fair sometimes declines."
"See? I could never pull Proust out of thin air like that."
He grumbled his correction, but only his pizza was close enough to hear.
Something was bugging Sheila. "Why are we eating pizza? I thought the grease was 'bad for our fur.'"
Her mother pursed her lips. "It is. I just... didn't feel like cooking tonight."
"Dad usually cooks."
Dad grumbled to his pizza again.
"Most kids would be ecstatic to have pizza."
Sheila left it at that. Best to keep her head down, she figured.
Sheila and Marcy were sitting together on the couch, watching one of the rare good shows on TV, giggling with each other during the commercials, making fun of the silly advertisements, and pointing out the shameless product placement, when her mother interrupted.
"It's getting late, girls, do you want a ride home, Marcy?" Mother's idea of being subtle, thought Sheila.
"No, I'm okay, I can walk."
"Okay. Just be sure to be safe." And with that, she headed upstairs, to her bedroom.
"She seems to be pretty O.K. with me being back," Marcy said, once Sheila's mother was out of earshot. "I mean, your dad and sister were all giving me the evil eye, but Tina seemed pretty chill."
Sheila nodded. She had come to her mother and sister in tears over some of Marcy's antics, and she was certain that word had filtered to her father, and they all were very protective about it, but for her mother to just accept Marcy being back like that... it was... odd. Sheila wasn't sure she was perfectly okay with Marcy being back, either, but somehow, it felt right.
"Well," said Marcy, pushing herself off of the couch, "I'd better go. Let me know how it turns out," she said, and Sheila didn't know if she meant the show or her parents.
Following Marcy to the door, Sheila noticed that Marcy was trying to hide her face. She stepped out the door and hesitated.
Sheila's breath was taken away when Marcy spun, and tears were in her eyes.
"I... Did it really happen," she asked, suppressing a sob. "Did we really kiss? I've dreamt about it for so long, and now, I don't know if I'm remembering a dream or..."
Sheila felt exposed, a chill wind blowing through the door, rustling her skirt. She wasn't quite sure it actually happened, either.
"Tell me you're not joking with me," Marcy said, desperately. "Tell me you really meant it. That you didn't do it just to make me feel better." The tears were rolling down her face, soaking her fur, the patches around her eyes now fitting exactly how she was feeling.
Sheila couldn't think of words to say. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, anyway. She didn't know how she felt. All she knew is that her friend was there, crying, and she wanted to hug her, hold her, make her feel safe, warm, loved, and she wanted the same from her. She stepped forwards, arms agape, and embraced the raccoon, giving her cheek a light kiss before hugging her tightly.
Marcy was sniffling, sobbing, but the sobs soon subsided, and she held Sheila, too.
In Marcy's arms, Sheila felt warm, safe, loved. It was bliss.
"William," Sheila's mother said, laying with her belly on the bed. Only a single lamp lit the room, on Sheila's dad's side of the bed, and he was laying with his back against the headboard, reading a thick book.
He had been dreading this moment. As they got ready for bed, he could tell that she had something on her mind, something that caused her to be pensive, and slightly moody. He checked his mental calendar, and went down the list of possibilities. No, he didn't miss their anniversary, nor did he miss her birthday, any of the kid's birthdays, and it wasn't even 'that time of the month.' He didn't know what was wrong, and that worried him. He carefully put his bookmark in place, and gently closed the book, setting it aside. "Yes, dear?"
"Will, you know about Marcy, right? All the mean things she's been doing to Sheila?"
Will nodded, thinking 'how could I not?' but saying, "yah."
"Well... don't you think it's weird that she's suddenly friends with her again?"
"Very much so, yes, but that's what kids are. Weird. Fickle. I believe the term is Attention Deficit."
Tina shook her head. "Well... I... I know why she's back... and why she's been so mean... but... I don't know what to do about it. I mean... if I just shove my nose in Sheila's business, she's going to hate me. But if I don't... I mean... what they're doing is pretty... I don't know, it just seems... I mean..."
William looked at his wife with a knowing smile. "You've finally gone insane, haven't you."
She batted him with her paw. "You're not helping."
"Well, Tina dear, considering I have no idea what's going on..."
Tina took a deep breath. "I overheard them talking downstairs.
"Overhead or eavesdropped?"
Tina pursed her lips. "A little of column A, a little of column B."
Will grinned wryly. "tsk tsk. You naughty kitten, you." Tina rolled her eyes. "Now, dish out the goods. Why?"
She hesitated. "You... You've always told the kids that the whole... homosexual thing was okay, right? You always told them that gay people were still people, and the people who made fun of them or hated them were ignorant, stupid bastards, right?"
Will nodded, not quite seeing the point. "Yes," he drawled.
Tina took another deep breath. "Well... Marcy is gay for Sheila."
"Oh," Will said, after a while.
"Well, you know how her father is, and that's why she was being so mean to Sheila. She was trying to push her away so she wouldn't feel that way. But... Today... today they... um..."
He tried to finish the sentence. "Reconciled?
"Well, yah, but also... um... made out..."
If Will had been drinking coffee, he would have spit it out at this point, eyes bulging. "Woah!"
"I know! They were talking, and all of a sudden I hear them making out, and... I couldn't think! That's why we had the pizza. I just couldn't bring myself to cook anything. All I could think about was that our daughter was playing tonsil hockey with the bitch that wrote nasty lyrics about her on the boy's bathroom wall."
"Not an image I needed."
"I know!" She sighed and flopped her head into her pillow.
William was still a little perplexed. "Didn't she have a crush on that fox boy?"
"What," Tina asked, muffled by the pillow.
"Mike, Hellen's friend. I thought she had a crush on him."
"I didn't hear anything about that..."
"Neither did I, but I saw the way she looks at the guy. She gets all goofy and shy. I dunno, maybe I'm just seeing things."
They both took a moment to gather their thoughts, Will looking blankly at the book he set down, Tina fidgeting with her claws.
"At least we don't have to worry about grandchildren," Will said, ever the optimist.
Tina bopped him with a pillow.
"I guess this means we'll have to give her the sex talk," he ventured.
"What? No! I mean... I guess... but... she's only thirteen..."
"And you lost your virginity when?"
Tina hit him with a pillow again, this time with a small amount of aggression. "Just for that, you get to do the talk."
"What? Why me? You're the woman! And since she's lesbian, there's double the woman-bits involved. No man-bits. I should be in the garage while you two talk it over while knitting a quilt or something."
"Wait, don't they teach this stuff in school so we don't have to be parents to our children?"
"Might as well sit her down in front of the TV and have her watch softcore porn while we're at it."
"We get porn channels?"
"Nope," Will said, without hesitation. "We're going to have to rent it."
"Damn. And Porno rentals are so spendy."
Will chuckled and kissed his wife's forehead. "We'll just have to cut back on the bondage gear, my love."
She mock-pouted. "But how else am I going to get my jollies?"
"We could always try it missionary style. I've never done it that way before."
"Oooooh, mister adventurous!" She rolled over, pulling him on top of her.
"Oh my," Will said, giving his purring wife a kiss.
On the other side of the wall, Hellen rolled over to the edge of her bed and groggily reached for her night-stand, where she kept the earplugs. She cursed her eagerness to snatch up the room with the larger closet and passing over the room with two floors between her and her parents as she firmly shoved the little foam plugs in her ears, then - though it was uncomfortable - smothered her ears with earmuffs. Whatever goaded her parents to be in 'the mood,' she hated it.
The next day, a lazy Saturday afternoon, Sheila was in her room, curled up on her bean-bag chair, taking a light catnap when she was jolted awake by the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. She stared at the door for a moment, until there was a gentle, polite knocking.
"Come in?" she said, not knowing who in her house would bother to knock. Hellen would barge right in, and her parents would just call her upstairs. She was slightly surprised to see both her parents walk through the door. She sat up, curious as to their intentions. "Yah?"
They both made themselves comfortable at the end of her bed, fidgeting, eyes not quite meeting hers. "Sheila," said her mother, slowly, unsure of herself, "We would like to talk to you about something..."
Sheila cocked her head to the side, patiently waiting for them to spit it out.
"Um," Will said. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again, then opened it, and shut it once more. He settled with, "Um..."
"You aren't pregnant, are you," Sheila asked, taking a stab at it.
Tina's eyes went wide, but she quickly shook it off. "No! No..."
"But speaking of which," her father cut in, "Um... we would like for you to... not... get pregnant."
"Wha?"
Her mother glared at Will, then took a deep breath, plucked up her courage, and sallied forth. "We want to talk to you about sex."
"Ew!"
"Tell me about it," Will said, under his breath.
Pretending not to notice, Tina continued. "Well, we know you're reaching that age where... well, your hormones start to kick in, and... Sex starts to come up."
It wasn't much of an innuendo, but the situation was stressful, and to alleviate some of it, Will chuckled to himself.
Sheila eyes started to dart over to the door, and she was judging the chances of her escaping this, trying to estimate how long it would take for her to get to the door, and if either of her parents would be able to catch up to her if she got a head start by shouting, "MY GODS! LOOK AT THAT HUGE SPIDER!" pointing to the wall, then booking it. Odds weren't good - her dad had long legs, good for running, and her mom looked like she could pounce with the best of them. Besides, she couldn't avoid this forever. They'd eventually catch her. She'd have to sleep some time.
"Look, I know, this is uncomfortable, but we'd like to talk to you about this, to make sure that you're safe, and make wise decisions."
Will nodded in agreement. "We don't want grandchildren just yet."
Tina rolled her eyes. "Look, there's a lot of danger involved with sex. Not just pregnancy or disease, but, there can be a lot of emotional damage, as well."
Sheila nodded, like this was all new info, trying to keep calm, but in her mind she was freaking out. Did they know? Did Mike talk to anyone? How many people knew?
"You may think you're in love with someone now," her mother said, "but trust me when I say that..."
"Love sucks," Will finished for her, taking over. "You wouldn't believe the number of times in high-school I heard people say, 'Oh! I love her! I'll never leave her! She's the one for me!' or, 'I love him! He's so great! He'd never cheat on me!' and then two days later, they break up over some stupid little thing, and never talk to each other again. I'm not saying that this will happen to you, or that you're that dumb, but... You're young, and sometimes we forget how long life is. Hell," the word earned him an elbow in the ribs. "Heck," he revised, rubbing the now-sore rib, "Your mom and I have a good thirty years left... followed by ten okay years, and then about twenty bad years." He did the math on his fingers, and nodded. "Yah."
Tina gave him an odd look, but shook her head. "Look, what we're trying to say is..." She looked to Will. "What are we trying to say?"
"Don't be a dumbass."
That earned him a punch on the arm.
"Ow! Violent!"
Tina shook her head again and took a deep breath. "What we're trying to say is that... we'd really, really appreciate it if you waited until you had sex."
"And, I think you know I'd shoot any man who so much as thinks of touching you," Will finished.
Tina grimaced, but no violence ensued. Soon, the three eased into an awkward silence, with much fidgeting and staring at the floor. Tina stood and straightened a picture of the family. "Well," she said, once satisfied, "Okay?"
"Um..." Sheila said, thanking whatever deity or spirit that was listening that they didn't know about her popped cherry. "Okay."
"And, if you have any questions, or just want to talk to us about anything," her mother continued, powering through the words like she rehearsed them, "You can."
Sheila nodded slowly, wondering if this would ever end.
Will got up, patted his legs to shake off non-existing dust, and headed for the door. "Okay! Glad we got that over with. I'm off to the garage." He called the last part over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs like a bat out of Hell.
"Don't forget to take out the trash," Tina called after him. She heaved a sigh and began to follow him, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She turned around and sat back down. "I... I was twelve when I lost my virginity," she said, her voice soft, her eyes on the floor, reminiscing. "I thought I loved him, I really did. James... He was a wolf, two years older than me... we were dating, but I didn't tell my dad about it, 'cause he would have shot James." She smirked at that. "One day, he took me to this lake... we walked about a mile, on this long gravel road... It was the middle of summer... we were in the shade under a tree, and he kissed me... It wasn't our first kiss, but it was... the wildest kiss, for sure... I knew what sex was. My friend Leslie told me all about it... and... I don't know what I was thinking, but I was so eager... so excited to share my body with this boy... Three days later, he was dating another girl... I cried so much... Uncle Tommy? He went out and found James, broke his nose for breaking my heart." She smiled, reminding herself to give her brother a call. "I dated other guys after that... Years after that. And then I started dating your father, and I remember thinking, 'this is the man I should have given my virginity to.'" She took in a deep breath, bracing herself. "I know, Sheila."
Sheila backed up a bit, afraid of what would next come out of her mother's mouth.
"I know about you and Marcy." She drooped her head, tucking the edge of Sheila's blankets under the bed neatly, her tail curled up beside her. "I'm sorry, but I overhead you and her talking, and... I want you to know that it's okay."
Sheila blinked. It was the only thing she could manage to do.
"And, I just want you to know that... whatever you do... I'm okay with it. And you know your dad is, too. Just..." she took a moment to find the right words. "Man or woman... Sharing your body is sharing your body..." She looked her daughter in the eyes. "Make sure that you're sure it's what you want to do."
Her mother looked strong and fragile at the same time, protective, but she also looked like she needed a hug. Sheila fought back tears, trying to hide her frown, trying to control the corners of her mouth from tugging down, holding in a sob. She launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her mother, clinging to her tightly, and let the tears flow.
The ensuing weeks were some of the best that Sheila had enjoyed in years. School was no longer the "keep your head down and hope it ends," it had been, and it was all the better with Marcy by her side. They had decided that it would be best to keep the public displays of affection out of school, because the way people talked, it would pass to some kid's parents, and that would get back to Marcy's dad, and then Marcy would probably be put in an all-boy's school to turn her straight again. But they were back to being friends, and life was good.
Outside of school, they spent as much time together as they could. They went to the mall together, mocking the latest - and most ridiculous - fashions (Braiding your fur all over your body? Absurd!). They would go to the park together, and swing on the swings, spin until they were sick on the merry-go-round, buy junk-food at the corner market (and making sure that there were no left-overs, and that the wrappers were thrown away, in case Sheila's mother caught wind and gave them a lecture). They would watch TV together, scoffing at the reality TV and giggling over the cartoons. And sometimes, they would just lie together in Sheila's room (never Marcy's, in case her father barged in) and would kiss until their lips were sore.
Sheila was underneath Marcy, their arms wrapped around each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss. Sheila could feel the young raccoon's budding breasts rub against hers, the excitement of it, the feeling, the pressure; she lost herself in a cloud of blissful pleasure. Marcy's paw rubbed against her side, caressing her ribs, and then her stomach. Her shirt slid up, and Marcy's hungry fingers were running through the fur on her belly, each pass of her paw sending electric shivers up her spine.
Sheila's shirt slid further and further up, exposing her whole stomach, her abdomen, her bra. Marcy's fingers traced the edge of her bra, over her breasts, teasingly. With a smoothness that seemed almost accidental, her training bra slid down, and Sheila's breasts were exposed, her pink little nipples poking out of her fur. Marcy broke away from the kiss, leaving Sheila's lips feeling slobbery and cold, but in moments that didn't matter, because Marcy's lips were on her breasts, brushing against her fur, licking at her nipples. Each lap of the coon's tongue made her loose her breath, and her stomach clench, the pleasure too intense, but at the same time, a little voice in the back of her mind was begging herself, "No, no, no, please, you know what this leads to. Please. I want to wait before I give myself away..."
But then a sadness passed through her when she remembered that she had already given herself to someone, and no amount of holding back could change that. She looked down at Marcy, the little raccoon with sad eyes, licking, stroking, kissing her, and somehow she felt sure.
She arched her back and reached underneath herself, unhooking her bra and sliding it off, letting out a breath of relief. Marcy sat up, and Sheila took her shirt off the rest of the way, then, leaning over and taking Marcy's face in her hands, the kitten kissed her ring-tailed girlfriend, and lost herself to passion.
Together, they took Marcy's shirt off, exposing the soft, light grey fur of her belly, and her bra - pink, with an embroidered daisy neatly nestled between her young breasts. She blushed as she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, letting it drop on the floor. They spent a moment simply taking each other in. The raccoon's breasts were small white hills on her chest, crested with tiny, pink nipples. Sheila delighted in that Marcy also had a white patch on her belly, though Sheila's was just a wide circle on her belly, just below her almost flat breasts, while Marcy's was a long, wide streak that started just below her neck and disappeared below her jeans. Something deep within the kitten wanted Marcy's jeans to be gone. She wanted see where the white fur lead, to know what lie beneath the faded blue fabric, see it, smell it, taste it...
Marcy giggled and smiled warmly, snapping the kitten out of her dreaming gaze. The ring-tailed girl ran her thumbs along the waistband of her jeans, where they met in the middle and slowly undid the button, unzipping the zipper tooth by tooth, torturing the young kitten. Centimeter by centimeter the zipper fell, revealing pink cotton panties, with a daisy embroidered in the front to match her bra. When the zipper finally reached the bottom, Sheila was breathless with anticipation.
Marcy hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants again, and slowly pushed them down, awkwardly lifting her knees one at a time to get the jeans completely off. Sheila eyed the triangle that was Marcy's thighs and cubmound greedily. As Marcy let her pants drop beside the bed, Sheila pounced on the Raccoon, forcing her on her back and kissing her ferociously. Marcy shrieked and giggled, then let out a gasp as Sheila's kisses dropped below her muzzle, to her neck, collarbone, chest, breast, the kitten's rough tongue lapping at her nipples, but only for a moment, because she moved on, following the white-furred road, until it ended at the panties. Sheila took a moment and took in Marcy's groin, fur matted down under the thin layer of cotton, her mound beautifully outlined. A little oval of dark-pink rested just above Marcy's lower lips, sending a pang of glee through the kitten.
She almost didn't want to see Marcy completely naked. Like a child drooling before the pile of presents on its birthday, part of the excitement was the mystery of what lay underneath that soft, pink wrapping. Tentativly, she reached between Marcy's legs and touched the dark-pink patch, pressing her fingers against it, feeling the outline of Marcy's slit, gently stroking the gasping raccoon's outer folds.
Marcy groaned and opened her legs wide for Sheila, flinching and twitching as Sheila explored her private region, the coon's breathing rising and falling heavily. It felt naughty and gross to have her panties cling wetly to her mound, like she pissed herself. She couldn't take it anymore. Bumping Sheila's probing hands aside, she lifted her hips and shoved her panties down.
Sheila watched them as they landed on the ground with a small splat, letting out a disappointed mewl herself. Still, she turned her attention to her lover. Her eyes trailed down the young coon's white stripe, starting at her neck, lingering at her growing breasts, sliding eagerly down her belly, then passing below the waist, where the white tapered down her bikini line and the wetted down fur surrounded her pink cubslit. It was better than she had imagined.
Marcy wasted no time unbuttoning Sheila's pants, and pulling both the pants and the panties down at the same time, a strand of fluid breaking off where it had been soaking the panties. Sheila sat down and lifted her legs as Marcy pulled, tossing both the garments aside.
They embraced in a kiss once more, lips pressed together, muzzles parted slightly, their tongues cautiously adventuring into each other's maws. Sheila wrapped her arms around her lover, caressing her soft fur as she pressed her hips against Marcy's. Her mind went blissfully blank as they made out, gone to the rest of the world...
... except a knocking on her door. Marcy was a flurry of limbs and blankets as she covered herself up. Sheila stood, looking frantically for a towel or a robe, calling out, "y-yes?"
"Sheila," it was mother, talking through the door. "Marcy's dad called. He wanted to know if she was spending the night."
Sheila looked to Marcy, who was kneeling on the bed, wrapped up to her neck with all the blankets like a burrito. Eyes wide with shock, she looked to Sheila with a hopeful pleading.
"Y-yes?"
On the other side of the door, Sheila's mother nodded and called back. "Okay. Don't forget you have homework."
"I won't, mom."
"Good night."
"Good night, mom."
"Good night Mrs. Tanner," Marcy called.
"Good night, Marcy."
Sheila and Marcy looked at each other, Marcy a blanket and coon burrito with a side of pillow, Sheila dangling a small towel in front of her, and they both thanked their lucky stars that Sheila's mother didn't peek in.
Tina took a deep breath and tried not to imagine what they were doing in the room, or what they would do.
Sheila let out a breath of relief as she listened with perked ears, making sure that her mother's footsteps could be heard overhead, thinking that they were unusually loud tonight. It must be all the excitement. She flopped down on her bed, looking up at Marcy the Burrito.
"That was close," Marcy sighed, letting the blankets slide down, revealing her slender, nude form.
Sheila looked up and was greeted with Marcy's cubslit, right there, just a few inches away, calling out to her... the scent was intoxicating, so rich and thick that she could taste it in the back of her throat. She wanted so badly for that taste to be on the tip of her tongue.
Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head and took her first tender lick, making Marcy gasp with excitement. The taste was better than she had imagined, and it felt so right. She licked again and again, tracing the outside of the young raccoon's sex teasingly.
Marcy buckled and fell on top of Sheila, twitching and flinching with each touch of Sheila's tongue. Sheila stopped and giggled, looking down between their bodies to see Marcy's pleasured expression.
"Did you like that," she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Marcy nodded, breathlessly muttering, "yes, yes."
Sheila giggled again and spread her legs invitingly to Marcy, the fur around her cubslit already matted down and moist. Marcy reach up and touched Sheila's mound, exploring the kitten's sex. Sheila mewled as Marcy parted her lower lips and sunk a finger into the kitten's constricting vagina. The kitten lost herself for a moment as her lover pushed the finger further and further in. It was pleasurable, but almost painful, as well.
Once she remembered herself, she began lapping at Marcy's sex in earnest, long, massaging licks that coaxed little squeaks of pleasure out of the coon. Marcy began pushing the finger in and out of the kitten, using the other paw to rub and caress her outer folds. Marcy's face was achingly close to the kitten's sex, so close that Sheila could feel her breath against her fur, tickling her, driving her wild.
Sheila gave Marcy another long lick, starting at her clit and plunging into the raccoon's hugging depths. Marcy shuddered and almost tipped over, having to use a paw to keep herself stable.
Marcy's breathing was getting heavier as she brought her muzzle closer to Sheila's sex, reaching out with her tongue and flicking it across the kitten's dripping lower lips. She was so grateful that the kitten's mound was smooth and rounded like hers, and not on of those raggedy roast-beef looking things she saw on the internet.
Sheila felt like an idiot, doing nothing but wiggle her tongue inside the raccoon's sex. She didn't know what else to do. The only porn she saw was of a man and woman, and the man seemed too pre-occupied with his penis to go down on the woman. Still, she tried, lapping at Marcy's inner walls, sliding her tongue out every once in a while to swallow Marcy's juices. Marcy's citrusy wetness made her feel better about her own, which had been extremely embarrassing with Mike, though he didn't acknowledge the small puddle that had collected beneath her.
Marcy shuddered as she felt Sheila's tongue slide back in to her. It was slippery, and exciting, and weird to have her most private place touched by anyone but herself. Each lap of the kitten's tongue sent electric fire through the coon's young sex, making her jolt and convulse. Feeling the need to reciprocate, Marcy pulled her finger out of the kitten's hot sex and replaced it with her tongue, feeling the kitten's squishing tightness. Sheila moaned loudly, her warm breath against the coon's sex.
Marcy's paws rested on Sheila's bikini line, her thumbs gently rolling the kitten's soaked labia. In her carelessness, Marcy let her index fingers rest on Sheila's tail-star, and every time Marcy shivered with pleasure, her fingers would curl ever so slightly, putting a gentle pressure on the kitten's anus. She wanted desperately to tell her lover, "more! More!" but she was too embarrassed. What would Marcy think? Wouldn't she find it gross? She opened her eyes and took in Marcy's most private area. There was the soft, flattened fur that surrounded her mound, soaked through and matted down with saliva and cum. Her cubmound was split, pink flesh showing beneath the fur, glistening, and just above that, Marcy's tailstar, surprisingly lacking of stench.
Marcy groaned. "Please," she breathed, "Don't... don't stop!"
Blushing, Sheila realized she had indeed stopped. She mewed at her lover, then kissed the coon's clit, giggling as Marcy shivered and sighed out in pleasure. Marcy returned the favor, and Sheila mewed happily.
She favored her lover's sex with long, slow, dragging licks, from the coon's clit, dipping down between her folds, then 'accidentally' brushing against her anus, but she didn't have the courage to do much else. She slid her tongue between Marcie's lower lips, and lapped at the insides, coaxing more and more love-juices to flow out of the coon, down Sheila's tongue and in to her partially opened maw. Sheila pressed her lips to Marcy's sex, and dug her tongue deep in to the coon's folds.
The kitten's roughly textured tongue was too much for the Marcy. Her fingers and toes curled as she moaned through her orgasm, one digit pressing and stretching Sheila's anus, penetrating the girl's tailstar.
Sheila let out a yelp as the coon's sex clutched at her tongue, and she felt the finger enter her. Arching her back, she came, as well, spraying Marcy's muzzle with her orgasm.
The sheets were soaked. The bed was a mess, and the sheets were soaked through, and her fur was matted and tangled. And she smelled of sex. There, in Marcy's arms, the coon snored gently as she clutched to Sheila, warm and loving. Sheila lay awake, a mess, and never happier in her life. She gave the coon a kiss on the side of her muzzle, and was left with the hint of her own taste on her lips. She snuggled closer to the coon, their breasts touching, Sheila's legs entwined with Marcy's, holding her hand. Gradually, Sheila, to, fell asleep, smiling happily.