FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A little warning, this story might make you quite sad, in the end.

You may also want to read osme of the other Spirit of '67 works before this, particularly "E Dante's 'Who Am I?'", although I don't think it's essential.

We get to see a little bit of Elle Dante's private life, off the stage floors she seems to inhabit so happily.

Any (respectful) feedback and commentary you may have is very appreciated.

---

//: 2105, City of San Iadras, 'uptown' district.

"Julie?"

The bedroom was dark, the air musty with the stink of sex. Sitting on the side of the bed, Juliette slapped at the bedsheets idly with her stiff, striped tail.

"Honey?"

Edward's hand, pink and hairless, reached around her stomach, settled onto her yellow-brown furred thigh, his fingers splayed.

Juliette dropped her gaze, staring down the length of her doglike muzzle at his hand.

"Darling?" Edward tried again, drawing back his hands as he shifted himself across the bed to lay behind her. He lifted the stiff length of her tail and laid it over his body. He ran his hands up along her tail's length to its thick base, onto Juliette's tiger-striped buttocks, walking his fingers up her back, scratching his fingertips into the fur just under her shoulder blades, where the stripes faded away.

It felt good, she had to admit. Yet somehow lacking, in comparison to when she imagined Edward's hands on her body, his possessive little kisses across her neck and breasts, the smooth thrust as he entered her, fucked her, their hips grinding together...

"Julie? Are you feeling alright?" he asked, finally shifting again, the mattress jingling as he got up and sat beside her, accidently wrenching her tail a little between his body and hers.

Unpleasant twangs shivered down Juliette's body, and she grunted quietly in discomfort. Reaching behind herself, she pulled her stiff tail straight, massaged its base.

"Sorry," he apologised, ducking his head little, so he could look up at her face beneath the curtain of her red hair. He reached up reassuringly with one hand, tried to brush her hair back, his hand fumbling as he sought to tuck it behind a non-existent human ear, a few inches below her real and pointed ones. "Are you okay, honey?"

She could hear the anticipation in his voice, the lust for her. She chided herself at the little fantasy growing in her mind, tried to remind herself not to build up her expectations again. But she always did, always somehow found her couplings with Edward falling a little short of the fantasy.

She offered a quirky smile to him, as her hair draped back across her face. Finally she reached back, brushed it behind her shoulder.

A few moments of silence passed.

"You seem a little down, darling," Edward tried.

Juliette closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe this time, his hands would tingle the way she wanted. Maybe this time, his penis would be the fiery rod inside her she always fantasied about. Maybe they could do it with the curtains open, a little night air cleansing out the room's smell, maybe this time, it could be perfect...

"Julie?"

She made up her mind. "Mmm. Don't say a word, sit right there..." She felt a little more assertive than usual as she stood up, moved to the closed curtains and threw a rolling of the hips into her walk. Yes, yes, he'd watch her move, the little swish of her tail. Maybe he'd be hard already... It'd be good this time, she could feel it inside her, a pleasurable little tingle of anticipation inside, a little throb twanging across her flesh.

She drew the curtains wide open, revealing the city of San Iadras, a glimmering organism under the night. Juliette flung open the window and turned back to face him. Edward, her life's love. A chill night breeze glided into the room.

There was a little hollow feeling in her gut as she saw his expression, the repressed frown. Edward always wanted the curtains closed, as though the moment of passion had to be bottled up and kept between just the two of them. Hidden away behind doors and under sheets.

Well. Just this one time, just this once, she'd have it her way.

She came up to the bed, stood before him. She smiled sexily, an alien feeling just at the moment, and placed one knee up onto the bed beside his leg. She grasped his shoulders with both hands to steady herself and she settled her other knee on the other side of his body.

He brought up his hands to meet her, clutching at her stomach, massaging their way up her body.

Yes. This felt good, the heat of his hands on her, the gleam in his eye that told her she was beautiful...

He hugged his arms around her back as she moved close to him, straddled him against the bed's edge.

Juliette brought her body closer to his, swayed gently in place, rubbing her breasts against his neck, her nipples hardening, but not on fire like she always imagined. Something was amiss in the back of her mind.

"Eddie... do you love me?" she asked, nuzzling her face against his forehead.

As if finally catching his cue, Edward lowered his head, caressing her neck with kisses. "Yes, I love you very, very much," he said, each word punctuated with a kiss.

Her body shivered thrillingly. She rose up, pressing against his body, arching her back as she presented her breasts to him.

He obliged, ducking down, trailing those urgent, wet little pecks down over her breasts, onto her nipples, and there, there was the fiery little chill that sprang through her body she'd been looking for. Pleasant shivers down her spine, almost like she'd imagined. Almost. It was promising.

She let herself sink against his body, her knees uncomfortably tight as she dropped. Her knees had always given her trouble, and she worried a brief moment. But then she felt a pleasant pressure on her vagina lips, pressing against the slightly dry bodily fluids matted into her fur...

A pleasurable wave of anticipation bubbled through her - yes, yes, this time it would be perfect, she thought. She shoved her crotch down against his, sending a delightful chill through her body as she felt his penis rub up against her slit. But, then a tiny twinge of disappointment, as his member slipped over her labia, not quite so erect enough to penetrate.

"Oops," she giggled to him, masking her disappointment with a little humour, and a lick across his face. She leaned back, disentangling one hand from his shoulder. It doesn't matter, she thought, as she slid her hand down between their bodies, moving her hips back a little. This way might even be better.

She wrapped her hand around his penis, ran her hand over it's length gently.

Edward grunted appreciatively, sliding down his hands to cup her buttocks.

A smirk twisted Juliette's lips, and she pushed her body forward, pulled his penis against her slit, and she began grinding against him.

His penis bobbed in between her parting labia, ground up over her clit, sent electrical little thrills through her body. He moaned happily, the sound rumbling against her chest.

Grinding herself against his penis a few moments more, she pulled her body up. Leaving her middle finger on the head of his penis, she settled her crotch down onto her hand. Parting her labia with her index and ring fingers, she nuzzled her face against his. "I love you, Eddie," she breathed, then sank down onto him, shoving his penis inside her, sending hot chills through her body even as he clenched his hands over her ass.

He used the springiness of the bed to thrust and grind against her, pressing his lips into her neck. She returned the favour, pumping herself against him, riding his cock. She could feel the heat rising in her, a little anticipatory singing along her nerves that squealed with every bounce.

A warmer feeling filled her, and even as she realized he'd come, he drew her back with him onto the bed, peppering her face with kisses.

She felt a little disappointment as she lay back then, as he slid from her body. Though as he pressed his hand against her wet pussy, started stabbing his fingers inside her urgently, Juliette began to forget about her little disappointment altogether.

Juliette opened her eyes to find a faint blue glow through the curtains. Edward had closed them again during the night.

The rising sun was a shaded halo through the fabric, a little too bright for Juliette to look at without squinting. Edward was in the bed behind her -- she could feel his weight on the mattress. She wasn't sure what to feel. How to feel it anymore.

She settled her hands under her head, curling the fingertips of one hand around her muzzle, and she watched a thin slice of the sky, visible between the curtains. Slowly the sky slowly hazed up from early morning yellows into a pale sky blue.

It wasn't that the sex wasn't good. It gave her pleasure. But somehow it just never made her feel whole. Perhaps she was just... expecting too much.

Edward rolled over, scattering the bedsheets and closing the gap between them. He reached over Juliette's body, curled his arm around her chest, and pulled her close.

His body was warm, pouring off a lazy sort of heat into her back. She could feel his penis, semi-erect, poking into her behind. A tiny sense of revulsion bubbled up in her.

Juliette stared out at the thin slice of sky, waiting for it to brighten out properly. She prayed that somehow today might be different. Make her happier.

Edward's fingers trailed down her body.

A conflicting sense of betrayal fought with the pleasant warmth his touch brought. She delicately reached down, pulling up Edward's hand before it strayed a little too low, and got out of bed.

"Mmmm... Don't feel like sex, babe?" he mumbled, disappointment clear in his sleep-slurred voice.

"No, I..." she started, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

He looked so vulnerable, laying there.

Juliette glanced away from him. "I... I'm just feeling a little tender, that's all."

"Oh." He smiled up at her from the bed, then rolled back to his side of the bed. "M'kay," he grunted, pulling the pillow from her side of the bed, tucking it under his own head.

Juliette glanced longingly at the curtains, the thin slice between them. Her breath caught in her throat until finally she abandoned the morning, and wandered into the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind her, she turned on the shower. Usually she'd just use the shower head, clean under her arms, between her legs, her face. Try and avoid getting too soaked. But today, she felt an urge to try and feel as clean as possible. Water trapped in fur had a way of chilling her down way too fast. Humans have it easy, she reflected. They dry off more quickly, don't have to scrub at themselves with brushes to clean gunk out of their fur...

She prodded the bristles of her cleaning brush. Stiff, scratchy. She really needed a new, softer one. It'd make cleaning up after sex with Edward so much more comfortable.

What makes it worse, she griped to herself, is all the shampoo.

Humans had all kinds of personal care products. Long aisles just devoted to hair care. Oils and shampoos and scents and dyes. Some smelled so nice... but all of them made her skin itch, or her fur electrostatic.

There weren't many Furry cosmetics, and they could be hard to find. More than once she'd run out unexpectedly, then had to go to a pet supply store, had to buy dog shampoo.

It always felt degrading.

Halfway through her shower, Edward banged on the bathroom door. He always did it. She didn't know why. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen her naked body before.

Sighing, she turned down the water, stuck her head out of the shower. "Yes Edward?"

"I have to work today, waste of a weekend. I know you wanted to spend the day with me, and I'm sorry," he shouted through the door.

Guilty relief flooded Juliette. "Oh... That's alright. I'll just go shopping, maybe."

"Good, good. Don't forget about tonight," he called. "I'll see you at the club, right?"

"Yes Edward," she shouted back, "you'll see me there."

"Bye, darling."

She swallowed, clearing her throat. Something felt wrong.

"I love you," she called at the door.

She waited for his response.

She stared at the door, until finally she felt the chill of her wet fur.

//: 2105, City of San Iadras, Spirit of '67 adult club/theatre.

Juliette had arrived early. Usually she liked to flaunt her beauty, alien as it was to humans. She'd been stared at. But somehow, instead of making her feel beautiful while she shopped, all gazes on her felt accusatory.

Most furs shopped in the carved out, multi-tiered canyons of under-street shopping centres. They were cheaper, more practical. But they didn't encourage dawdling over this and that, sitting down to rest your legs, maybe having a coffee.

She liked dawdling, handling things before she bought them. The uptown markets had better things, too. Normally it wasn't so bad, but on her shopping trip she'd only seen one other fur. An irate looking red-furred canid woman with Estian corporation logos on her police uniform.

The uniform had probably been the only thing that kept her from being stared at like Juliette had, each pair of eyes crawling over her, making her feel unwanted. Eventually she couldn't take it any more, took a taxi, and at the Spirit of '67 early, by hours.

She'd been waved past long lines of well dressed people in roped off queues, dispelling her irrational little fear that somehow those long queues could make her late. The doorman seemed to recognise her, with a respectful nod while he held open the doors into the club's lobby, which seemed as though it'd be more in place at a luxury hotel.

She turned heads, more heads than usual, as she strutted through the lobby, her long white skirt swishing against her long legs with each step, carefully poised on high heels. It took her a few moments to realize, instead of rejection, the looks were admiring.

She dropped her gaze, a warmth flushing over her face as she walked towards the club's signboard, a cherry-warm glow in her heart at the feeling that people thought she was special.

Juliette felt a light touch on her shoulder. One of the club staff beckoned her attention, a young woman wearing a pair of velvet cat-ears in her hair, wearing a tight dress shirt and bow tie, with her sleeves rolled up. "Miss? I believe you're late?"

Juliette lifted her eyebrows, took a sharp breath. That must have been impossible "I..." But then again, perhaps Edward had gotten off work early... but then why hadn't he called her cell phone?

"Just come with me, miss," the club girl said, backing up a few steps.

Juliette hesitated. Maybe she'd misheard Edward, what time to arrive... He'd be so disappointed. "Alright, er, thankyou..."

The club girl led Juliette out of the lobby, past crisp white walls and over plush carpets until they'd entered a discreet employee door, to Juliette's surprise. Then again, Edward was a regular here. Juliette didn't really object to him coming to the Spirit of '67, so long as it made him happy, and she knew the place's reputation.

The back rooms of the Spirit of '67 were still shocking to her. Wide hallways of bustling people. Nude men and women, (though mainly women,) others who'd be nude if not for artistically placed pieces of cloth, others in costume, ushers, waitresses.

She tried to avoid looking, glad the fur covering her face would cover any hint of a blush.

The club girl stopped just then, beckoning from the flow of people a thin looking gentleman wearing a fine suit. His face, Juliette noticed, was tattooed around the eyes with black, cheetah-like markings.

"Ahh! Miss Vanguard. What seems to be the problem?" he asked of the club girl.

"Sir, I found Miss Dante out in the lobby looking confused, and..."

Juliette twitched her eyes to the gentleman, from him to the girl and reflexively back at the wall with embarrassment as a damp looking entertainer wandered past.

"Miss Dante? Shouldn't you be in your dressing rooms?" the gentleman asked kindly, looking her over concernedly.

"I... I, er, I'm not..." Juliette stuttered.

Just then, an unassuming man in a suit, who wore a masquerade mask with the visage of a fox, approached from one of the side halls. His body-language over-accentuated, he stared at Juliette, then back down the hall, then at Juliette. Snapping his fingers for the gentleman and club girl's attention, the vulpine butler pointed at Juliette with one hand. Then he pointed down the hall he'd just left with the other hand, and scratched his head in mimed confusion.

"What do you mean, René?" asked the gentleman.

The vulpine butler gestured something in sign language, which Juliette didn't understand.

"You're sure?"

The butler nodded, and the gentleman turned back to Juliette apologetically, the club girl standing back with a look of embarrassment on her face.

"Oh me, oh my... I'm terribly sorry, Madam. There's been a fair bit of confusion," the gentleman said, "a little case of mistaken identity..."

The fox butler snapped his fingers for attention, gestured at Juliette, and fluttered his hands in complex sign language once more.

The gentleman paused to digest this. Finally he nodded. "You are attending a performance at the littlest theatre, Madam?" the gentleman asked, turning to Juliette.

Juliette nodded a little numbly.

"The butler will escort you there, we of the Spirit of '67 do beg your pardon, Madam."

Juliette nodded quickly, thankful to be able to leave.

The vulpine butler bowed to her, gestured for Juliette to follow, and set back out into the public corridor.

Juliette turned hurriedly, stepping after the butler a little faster than she should have in her high heels, rapidly leaving the gentleman and club girl behind.

She was led back into the public halls, past the myriad patrons and down a short flight of carpeted wooden stairs. She was shortly ushered past a sign reading 'The anteroom of the Littlest Theatre', and into what seemed like a sparsely furnished lounge.

The vulpine butler bowed respectfully, and snapped his fingers for Juliette's attention, pointing briefly to one corner of the club. There was an aspect to his body language that was, almost, sorrowful or apologetic.

Looking in the direction indicated to her, Juliette's heart skipped a beat. There was Edward, a drink in his hand, chatting amicably with other men.

She pressed her way between the patrons, trying to ignore the admiring and coy glances that began to make her feel uncomfortable. "Edward?"

He jumped, almost guiltily as he saw her. The knowing smiles of his conversation partners made her skin crawl. "Darling? You're early." Edward moved forward to kiss her cheek.

She felt more than a little off balance, and the only thing familiar here now was Edward. But the envious stares on him, the lustful ones on her, made him feel desperately unfamiliar. She tried to ignore it all, with a little help from the drink Edward bought her.

Seated in the darkness of the 'littlest theatre', she spent the first half of the performance staring, a little slack jawed, at the woman on stage. The theatre's special effects, shadows that gambolled across the stage and interacted with the woman on stage didn't help Juliette's state of mind at all.

The actress was reasonably tall. Leggy. Red headed, with pointed ears and a doglike muzzle. Yellow-brown fur, and during the pieces of the performance where it was visible, tiger-striped, from the tip of a stiff tail right up to her shoulder blades.

Just like Juliette.

She had to fight the panic down inside her. It was just... just unexpected. Unexpected to see herself -- no. No! Not herself, one of her sisters, up on that stage.

She clutched the ticket card Edward had given her tightly. She couldn't read it in the dark, but she knew the name of the performer. E. Dante. Some kind of fake name. Or a fake performer.

Juliette's last name was Dixon, her whole genetic production group had been given that family name on release. Dante, she reasoned, had to be false. Or a name by marriage. Or...

She knew, intellectually, she shouldn't be so shocked. The first seven years of her life had been spent in a corporate dormitory with all of her sisters. That had felt comfortable, once, being just one identical girl like all the others. The surgeons and teachers and psychotherapists, they'd been different, and Juliette could remember her paralysing fear of how different those men were. The paralysing fear all of her sisters suffered.

Juliette remembered the corporate dormitories vividly, as she sat there, half-listening to the woman up on stage, a fake, or her sister. Juliette could remember identical rows of beds, where one was always yours, and you didn't have to worry about anything, because everything that was wrong would be fixed.

Even when one of her sisters died in surgery. They'd all start hugging each other then, long rolling waves of girls rushing to each other under the fluorescent dormitory lights to reaffirm that they were all there. But it'd be alright. Everybody was the same.

Then the laws were changed, and someone gave her a name instead of her production number, and took her away from all of her sisters and put her into an orphanage with five of her sisters.

She remembered how goddamn scared she'd been at first, huddling in corners with her sisters, the last few shreds of her world. Everyone else was so different. Lots of children with different names, and what made it worse, different faces. It brought a terrible feeling of vulnerability, being different.

One by one her sisters had disappeared as they'd been adopted, one by one taken away to live with families. People seemed to think families were a good thing, but Juliette had never been sure.

Finally there had just been the two of them left, when Juliette's knees became infected, and the corporate surgeon had to come and flush them out with antibiotics, re-graft the cartilage. Her last remaining sister had fawned over her helplessly, read stories out aloud like the dorm computers had, helped Juliette to start walking again.

And then her last sister had been taken away to live in a big house. A big house with a pool, she remembered being told, as though that could make it better. All the other orphans, most of them human, seemed to think it did.

She missed the stories her sister had told her. Had missed being called thirty-two forty-one, her embryo fertilisation attempt number, which was easier to remember than the spelling of 'Juliette'. All the other children couldn't remember her number, insisted on calling her Juliette, until eventually that's what she always thought of herself as.

And now, now, staring up at one of her hundred and sixty eight surviving sisters, instead of being happy, panic flooded her.

It was as though the fur up there, was really her. Like someone had thrown a gigantic mirror onto the stage, and had put her, Juliette, up there, walking with the same grace she did, the same body language, the same gestures, the same face and hair and fur and voice and eyes and--

Juliette bit back the bile in her throat. Her sister up on stage spoke.

"Every single one of the girls who were part of my group have been in a public relations position," said Juliette's doppelganger up on that stage, moving over to a table, sexily strutting her way there in a short skirt and business jacket of the same make Juliette kept in her cupboard at home. "Informally, probably about two thirds of us are personal assistants, maybe more."

Jesus Christ, Juliette thought, My first job out of high school was at the front desk of an office, I answered the phone...

The woman on stage sat on a desk on the stage, crossing her legs in a sultry fashion Juliette had seen before on herself. "Me? I can type at a hundred and sixty words a minute."

... typed the damn press releases...

"And I tell you, I make the best damn coffee in the world."

... got the office its coffee...

"If you wanted one of me," said Juliette's double on stage, "and things hadn't changed, furs hadn't gotten re-classified as real people, you'd have been able to buy one of me for about one point two million new dollars." She smiled sexily at the audience. "About what it'd cost to buy a nice home on the beachfronts," she concluded, slipping off the desk.

Juliette stared up in shock, sick feelings rumbling in her gut. After the job at the news outlet, she'd taken a little college education. Met Edward. Gone to work at the law firm where he was a partner...

Juliette's double bent over the desk, grasping the other end smoothly, head down, ass offered out to the air. "And, uhh.... mmm. I never really... really... minded what must have been a nice little by-line in the intended sales brochure..."

Oh God...

A shadow formed behind her double on stage, part of the theatre's special effects. The shadow of a man, reaching for the shadow of her double's ass. There was the hint of an erection on that shadow. Her double pressed back, began to roll and thrust her ass in a grisly illusion of sex as she moaned, groaned for the audience.

Oh Jesus, oh Mary, oh dear fucking God...

Just like Juliette always did for Edward.

Juliette had abandoned Edward with an excuse about needing the bathroom. She'd managed to stay calm on the outside, where it mattered. Maybe, somehow, it would be okay.

She'd found the nearest bathroom, and rushed in, fighting tears.

She'd be okay. It didn't mean anything. Her sister up on that stage had been wrong. Had to be wrong. She steeled herself in front of the mirror, brushing away tears for five minutes until she felt she might be alright.

She left the bathroom. Edward was nearby, with those cronies of his, and he didn't see her as she walked towards him.

One of the men asked him, "I knew you had money to throw around, Eddie, but one point two million new dollars?"

Edward had laughed. She'd always remember that laugh. He'd laughed, and said, "Julie's not quite that expensive, Frank."

And she'd turned around, ran back to the bathroom, taken one bad step at the door on her high heels, wrenched her ankle and half-fell half-limped to the first sink she saw. She looked herself in the mirror, and began to throw up.

Great jolting waves of nausea pushed through her body, leaving a sick, tight feeling in her throat and a horrible, bitter and acid taste in her mouth. Every time she vomited, it felt like she was somehow choking, like she'd never be able to breathe again.

Finally it was over. Her body trembled and her hands shook as she ran the water to flush away her vomit. She cupped her hands around the tap's nozzle, sucked at the water in her hands, trying to rinse her mouth clean. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably.

Her ankle hurt, and her eyes were stinging with tears, and her mouth tasted horrible, and she didn't know if she might throw up again or not.

Finally she sank down, turning her back to the row of sinks, and covered her eyes with her hands, chest gasping for breath between the sobs.

Finally she found it, chest gasping for breath between the sobs.

That sick piece of theatre had a title. The play had a name.

It bubbled up against her mind, till she finally said it.

"Who am I."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

She screamed.

"Nothing but a whore! His goddamn fucking whore!"

She beat at the finely polished marble floor, clutching at her face and muzzle then, as she remembered all the nice things he'd done for her her. How she'd liked the way he looked at her, how he'd given her nice things, how it had made her feel special, how she'd been so fucking pliant as he led her to his bedroom.

She wept then, shoulders shaking helplessly with every sob.

She heard fingers snapping, and looked up.

One gloved hand held out with an embroidered handkerchief, an unassuming man in a tuxedo stood before her. He wore a masquerade mask in the visage of a fox.

She took the handkerchief, awkwardly blew her nose.

The vulpine butler lifted her to her feet, and led Juliette out of the bathroom, out into the hall where the club girl waited, twisting a bar cloth between her hands nervously.

The vulpine butler gestured down the hall, and Juliette let herself be led away by the club girl.

Footsteps rattled down the hall. "Juliette? Julie!" Edward cried, running after her. He came to a halt in front of the vulpine butler, whom held out one arm to bar his way.

"What? That's my girlfriend! Get out of my way!"

The vulpine butler slowly tilted his head to one side curiously, the dark eyes of the mask looking Edward over carefully.

"Can't you understand me? Are you stupid? Get out of my way!"

The vulpine butler gestured, a fist held out, one middle finger poignantly raised.

That was sign language anyone could understand.

She'd been led through more of those back hallways, filled with the carnival of motion that was the Spirit of 67's staff -- some people costumed, a few 'gifted' enough not to need one.

She didn't pay any of it much attention this time, dabbing at her eyes as the club girl led her on. She reached a dressing room door, on which was discreetly printed 'Elle Dante'. The club girl knocked, walked away. The door was pulled open.

Standing there behind it, wearing a terry-cloth gown, was her. Juliette. Looking fine. Normal. Like everything was okay.

That was because through that door stood Elle. Not Juliette.

A look of shock passed over Elle's face. "Oh..."

Juliette began to weep all over again. She, Juliette, was not okay, not alright, someone's toy and whore, and seeing this other her, this sister, just made it worse. Because her sister was okay.

"Aw. No no, sweety... don't cry," Elle said, standing, stepping towards Juliette with her arms held out wide.

Juliette cringed in on herself as her reflection approached, squeezed her eyes shut, halfway expecting the other woman to shatter as they met.

Instead, Elle wrapped her arms around Juliette softly, squeezed her tight in a hug that Juliette hadn't felt for fifteen years. "What's your name sweety?" Elle asked, patting the back of Juliette's head gently.

"Juliette."

"No, I mean... your name."

"Thirty-Two Forty-One."

"I'm Thirty-One Thirteen," Elle replied.

Juliette hesitated, then wrapped her own arms around her sister. "You read me stories."

"Yeah I did, sweety," Elle said, giving Juliette a little squeeze. "Your poor, poor knees."

Juliette snivelled. "Read me another?" she pleaded, looking into her sister's face, relief starting to flood her body.

"Yeah. Okay."

Time passed. A bookmark was moved a few pages ahead in a very old copy of 'the Fantastic Mr. Fox'. Two sisters reunited.

Juliette wiped at her eyes with a tissue, trying to blow her nose awkwardly through her muzzle. "You never wrote like you said," she meekly accused.

"No. I'm not much good at keeping in touch," Elle admitted.

"Me either."

A couple of moments passed.

"Is it true?" Juliette asked.

"Is what true?"

"About all of us being..." Juliette trailed off.

"Secretaries?" Elle asked kindly.

Juliette shook her head. "Sluts."

"I don't like that word. But we're all sensitive. We all enjoy sex. We really, really like it when people make us feel good," Elle replied, a little heavily. "We trust easily."

Juliette didn't reply for a long time.

"We get taken advantage of, really frequently. That's all."

Juliette sniffled. "Oh God. I feel awful."

"It's okay," Elle said, reaching out to take Juliette's hand softly.

"No it's not. It'll never be okay, because now I know someone... someone made me like this."

Elle shook her head slowly. "We can't help how we're made, sweety. And despite how you feel right now, we were all made wonderful. There's nothing wrong with us."

Juliette started to weep again, shoulders shaking with every breath. Finally she breathed out uneasily. "I have to go."

"Where to?"

Juliette stood, dabbing at her eyes. "Home. Him."

Elle looked at her sister for a long time. "Why?"

"I'm all alone out there, damnit," Juliette cried, moving for the dressing room door, "and... Oh God, I'm so stupid. I still love him!"

Elle watched as Juliette pulled open the door, slammed it shut beside herself. Just half-heard the clicking of her heels as she fled.

Elle shook her head, hunching over, looking down at her feet. "Oh, sweetheart. You're not so alone," she told the empty room.

Time passed, until a respectful knock on the door.

"It's open," she said, glancing up to find the masked face of the vulpine butler.

He shrugged his shoulders, sympathetically.

"You got her a cab?"

The vulpine butler nodded simply.

"Make sure that Edward creep is barred, please," Elle asked. Most patrons were fine. Just there for a good time, to appreciate beauty, get a little turned on. But guys like him... she didn't want men like him looking at her.

The vulpine butler nodded emphatically, patting one hand to his heart. He made a gesture that Elle half recognised as the sign for family, another for protection.

"Thankyou."

The fox butler scratched his head, as though curious, signing for 'couple'.

"Why'd she go back?" Elle asked.

The butler nodded.

"Oh lord," Elle sighed, sagging back. "Maybe we are built to be expensive little whores. But we're also built based on carnivorous bloody kangaroos. She's not going to go against that, become a vegetarian, just because it's how she was made. I wouldn't. She'll figure out a way to leave him, when she's ready."

Elle shook her head, standing up as she moved to her closet, searching for suitable clothes for her next performance. "And maybe we were all made a little too vulnerable to men like Daniel... but I don't think that means we love them falsely, or any less. Even if they don't love us back," she sighed.

She held out the old copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox. "Thankyou for the loan. It helped."

The Vulpine butler took it with a thankful nod, held it out in front of his masked face, re-read the cover.

"Didn't you mean... men like Edward?" asked the vulpine butler in a quiet whisper, his voice almost musical.

Elle shut her eyes, dabbed at them with the sleeve of her gown.

"That's what I said, René. That's what I said."

The vulpine butler nodded, and left, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.