FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Bronwyn: Further First Impressions

-o-O-o-

The creeper that Arthur used whenever he was working on his car had always struck him as almost obscenely comfortable. Relaxing on his back, looking up through the sunlit gaps in the engine bay at the clear blue skies above, it would've been far too easy to forget what he was meant to be doing and just take a cosy mid-afternoon nap.

Probably not the wisest thing to do when working beneath a car, but it was a tempting prospect all the same.

Still, it wasn't his car he was tinkering with; it was Bronwyn's, and that carried with it a certain sense of duty to get the job done, and done well. Besides, on the ever so slight slope of her driveway relaxing too much would've probably seen him sliding out from under the car and onto the quiet residential road out front. Sleeping in the road; not the best of survival tactics.

And then there was that annoyingly incessant leak that he was trying to trace.

The concrete grey of the driveway outside Bronwyn's home had become a mottled patchwork of darkened blotchy stains, so when the cowgirl had asked him to take a look at it for her - even if he was just an enthusiastic amateur - he'd been more than willing to oblige.

A little part of him almost regretted the decision, given how problematic things had turned out to be. Not that he lamented giving Bronwyn a hand, but the dirt, grime and splatterings of a near-endless glut of leaked oily lubricants and hydraulic fluids had thoroughly decorated the undercarriage in a near unimaginable mess. He had to wonder just how long the car had been leaking before Bronwyn had even noticed the issue, much less actually tried to get it fixed. Due to that gunky build-up it had taken hours to source the leak's origins, several distinct possibilities proving to be nothing more than dead ends, and in the end he'd only found the actual source entirely by accident, unintentionally knocking something with his elbow and being rewarded with a fresh coating of fluid.

Fortunately from that point on finding the precise cause was child's play.

A sudden shadow falling over the engine bay and the parts of his body that stuck out from under the front bumper of the car drew Arthur's attention and he quietly downed tools. The owner of the shadow was only visible from the knees down, but he was certain that he'd be able to recognise the curve of those furred bistre calves even in pure darkness.

Bronwyn.

When one of the furred limbs was lifted over his own legs, a bovine foot planted either side of his thighs, Arthur's waxing smirk revealed that he knew precisely what was coming next. With a degree of deviousness suffusing his intent he waited until the cowgirl was on the verge of making her move.

She began to bend at the knee. With a firm push against the car's undercarriage Arthur propelled the creeper out from under the vehicle.

Bronwyn gave off a startled moo, arms reeling and almost losing her balance as she moved into a sitting position, caught off-guard by Arthur's unanticipated movement. She'd been expecting to end up kneeling across his knees. Instead she found herself outright straddling the overall-clad fellow's stomach.

Looking down, her human was wearing just about the silliest grin she'd ever seen him don. Her response was to roll her eyes, but she couldn't stifle an amused giggle of her own.

"Here." Bronwyn held out a half litre water bottle that Arthur hadn't even noticed until that point.

Removing the tattered remains of what had been latex gloves, Arthur took it from her gratefully and was about to try and sit up so he wouldn't choke as he took a swig, but a firm push against his chest from one of Bronwyn's palms kept him pinned in place.

She was down now. And she was comfortable. So he wasn't going anywhere.

With a chuckle and a shrug Arthur did his best regardless, turning his head to take a quick mouthful. It hit the spot, cool and refreshing.

"So what's up with it?" Bronwyn asked from her perch as he swallowed.

"Well, it's not good." Arthur said sombrely, smacking his lips before he took another meaningful sip of his drink, "You've broken your flux capacitor and it's been leaking headlight fluid all over your undercarriage."

That earned him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he feigned pain with a theatrical pout, rubbing the non-existent bruise the cowgirl had left him, shooting her a pretended look of utter betrayal.

Rife with smugness, Bronwyn folded her arms across her chest and looked down at her freshly-beaten man-slave, "How does it really look?"

"It's fine." He answered seriously this time, "Basically just a worn seal. Easy fix."

"Show me?"

Placing the bottle well out of the way Arthur helped Bronwyn slide off his abdomen. Rolling himself off the creeper he allowed the cowgirl to take his place and lie back on it. She settled down comfortably enough, so Arthur leaned in and gave her a brief chaste peck on the cheek. He then moved down and placed a quick kiss between her breasts.

Bronwyn chuckled, swatting at his head playfully.

Arthur's mischievous amusement belied any regrets. Taking hold of the creeper's side-handles and with considerable care he manoeuvred Bronwyn under the car, working his own way under to lie beside her, the rough concrete far less forgiving than his previous cradle. He had to reposition his inspection lamp so that he didn't obstruct the light, casting the underside into darkness. But that was easy enough, provided he was careful to not burn his hand on the overused bulb.

"See this pipe?" Arthur pointed to a length of rigid tubing located just behind the block.

"Mmmhmmm." Bronwyn had no idea what it was for, but from the slick mess at one end of it even she could see that it had been leaking.

"Here, where it joins the steering rack." He tapped at the greasy tubing with the end of a spanner he'd left lying beneath the car, a few drops of dark fluid seeping out, "The copper washer is a bit warped. Just needs a new one. You're lucky it's just this. A leaky rack is expensive."

"My leaky rack has always proven quite profitable." Bronwyn chimed impishly.

Arthur scoffed, but in all honesty he'd been expecting a retort along those lines, "Figured you'd turn it into a boob joke if I described it like that..."

"Awww," Bronwyn pouted playfully, "I thought you liked my boob jokes?"

"Your boobs are no joke."

Bronwyn chuckled, laughter filled with mirth, pushing herself out from under the car with a firm shove. Arthur followed suit moments later.

"By the way," Bronwyn rose carefully to her feet, brushing the ruffles out of her dress, "my mother is coming round this weekend. I wondered if you'd like to meet her?"

"Does she know about us?" Arthur asked as he wiped the oily spanner off on the breast of his overalls. There were already so many dark stains and streaks permanently ingrained into the fabric that it made almost no difference to the rags, though the tool itself came up surprisingly clean.

"Yep!"

"Does she approve of us?"

Bronwyn laughed, "She's a bit dubious, but she's not seemed hostile. Just cautious."

Arthur nodded slowly, letting his brain take on what she was saying at a leisurely pace, "So I'd need to make a good impression, huh?"

Bronwyn took a step closer to him, looking up with sweet, bashful puppy-dog eyes, "Uh-huh."

"Okay. Just tell me where and when."

"Will do. You, though..." she prodded him intently on the shoulder, looking at the oil and mess all over his face and overalls, "You need a shower."

Looking down at his own torso Arthur futilely rubbed his hands across the front of his overalls, taking note of all the grease and grime under his nails. All that particular action served to do was more thoroughly cover his hands in the gunk. Why had he bothered with the gloves again?

"I guess you're right." He conceded. If his face was even half as bad as his hands then he'd really have to do some scrubbing, "Join me?"

"I'm fine. I had one this morning." Bronwyn smirked.

"Oh? Well, in that case..." Arthur moved as if to walk away. Bronwyn was about to fall into step beside him when he stopped, one of his hands suddenly shooting out, a finger deftly marking out a long, oily line through the exposed light-tan fur atop one of her breasts. The cowgirl's reactions were quick as she grabbed him deftly by the wrist, immobilising his arm lest the line be longer still, a deeply miffed frown crossing her face. She was about to tell him off - it could be so difficult getting marks like that out of her fur - when Arthur's other hand came up and repeated the process before she had chance to stop him.

He'd left her with a large black x across her right breast, from just below her bistre collar all the way down to the deepest part of her cleavage.

"Guess you need another." He teased.

"Devious sod." Bronwyn feigned an angry scowl, releasing her grip on his wrists. The damage was already done.

"I try." Arthur stepped past her towards the door, earning a slap of retribution on his behind from the cowgirl.

Bronwyn looked down at the mess he'd left on her. She'd plan her revenge another day.

-o-O-o-

The bathroom in Bronwyn's house was a curious little affair. Naturally it was almost completely dominated by a rather sizable bathtub, set against a glazed terracotta mosaic tiled wall, in its entirety taking up a full third of what little confined space there was on offer - Bronwyn did love her long, luxurious baths after all. Affixed to the wall at the same end of the tub as the taps and plug was a power shower. A wall-mounted glass-paned four-piece fold-out screen ran along the rim of the tub to prevent the water from the shower soaking the floor beside the bath. Other than this room-filling feature there was a simple sink basin, a chromed towel radiator, what appeared to be rather old laminate wood flooring that had definitely seen better days, and a frosted window and sill adorned with more hygiene and hair cleaning products than Arthur had ever seen in one place in his entire life.

Of course, none of these finer details mattered at that precise moment. Arthur's attention was raptly focussed on the luscious cowgirl currently standing beneath a cascade of water from the showerhead, cleansing herself with a full-body shampoo that left the humid air smelling faintly of roses and lavender.

Watching the countless suds and drops of water work their way in rivulets through her fur, arcing every curve before finally finding their way free of her form, was something he could've willingly played witness to every day until the sun burned cold.

Bronwyn was watching him from the corner of her eye. She enjoyed having his undivided attention. She relished the hunger that burned for her in his gaze. And she loved the way it made her feel.

Of course having an audience also made her want to perform, at least to some degree. A subtle arching of her back here, a gentle caress of her body there, leaning this way and that as she moved to hide or reveal just a little bit more. Trying to be graceful and alluring in a confined space wasn't the easiest thing to do, but then keeping Arthur focussed solely on her wasn't the hardest either.

She didn't doubt that Arthur would enjoy what was coming next.

The enamel beneath the cowgirl's feet gave off a squeak of protest as she turned on the balls of her feet. Taking hold of the upper edge of the glass screen she pulled it towards herself, pressing her body up against it, the surface cold even in spite of the warm water. Obviously, being her most prominent feature, it was the cowgirl's excessive bosom that mushed most obviously against the glass, the pressure forcing them not only together but also outwards in every direction.

Arthur's eyes went wide.

"Enjoying the view?" Bronwyn teased.

Arthur nodded, but not a single word passed his lips.

Bronwyn leaned her head around the screen, the platinum fronds of her hair held together as sodden dreadlocks, swaying and dripping water over the side of the tub.

"That's your cue to add yourself to the picture." She suggested airily, beckoning him over with her eyes.

Arthur had never removed his clothes so quickly.

In the time it took Bronwyn to peel herself free of the glass her human lover had disrobed and stepped into the tub himself, taking up position behind her. Gratification and gratitude danced through the hazel of her eyes, her lover's company definitely welcome.

Because now she could put him to work.

"Here." She picked up a bottle of conditioner, popping the lid and handing it to Arthur, "You have a job."

Arthur was more than willing to oblige, a generous serving of the lotion in hand, so he began by working it gently into Bronwyn's back and shoulders. She was happy to relax into it, the soothing and regular motions of his fingers running in circles against her fur and skin, applying pressure to the muscles underneath, resulting in an indirect massage. Added to the sensation of warm water against her torso it was a moment of pure bliss that just begged to be relished.

The way his hands began to trace circles down towards the small of her back sent a distinct shiver down Bronwyn's spine, drawing a small whimper of approval from her lips before she could even think of stifling it.

Following the line of her vertebrae Arthur eventually reached the root of the cowgirl's tail. Knowing it was a sensitive spot for her he was mindful to not aggrieve it with too much pressure. With an insistent yet gentle touch he applied his fingertips, Bronwyn's reactionary moo greeting his ears at the exact same moment that her tail flicked across his chest. It was reflexive, utterly involuntary, but he knew that she liked it.

So Bronwyn didn't offer any immediate objection when his hands roamed lower and he gave her backside a firm squeeze.

Sadly that didn't last.

Reaching back Bronwyn took him by the wrists, putting an end to his fondling, "Plenty of time for that later. Eyes on the goal, mister."

Silent acquiescence was rewarded with the liberation of his arms, so Arthur took a moment to retrieve a fresh squirt of conditioner. With fur all over her body he was sure that Bronwyn's supplies required regular replenishment, though the consideration was set aside for the time being so that he could get back to work.

This time around Arthur started low and worked his way up, his hands at the cowgirl's hips, walking their way up the matira; curve to her waist and then the lowest extend of her ribs. Bronwyn braced herself, ticklish as she was, for the sensation of his fingers against sensitive fur and flesh. But it never came.

Slipping his arms around the cowgirl Arthur's hands followed the line of her ribs, quickly coming into contact with the underside of Bronwyn's bosom, both vanishing in the crevasse between the lowest reaches of the cowgirl's pendulous curves and where her breasts rested against her chest.

Tightening like a noose, Arthur's arms had the effect of pulling Bronwyn's back flush against his body. She could feel his breath against her ear, little puffs of air cool against her damp fur, and when the ear flicked reflexively across Arthur's nose he craned his neck and captured it between his lips, offering it a gentle nibble.

Bronwyn couldn't help but giggle, though it quickly faded as she felt Arthur's arousal throb against her backside, pinned between them both just beneath her tail.

"Eyes on goal." Arthur whispered into his bovine lover's ear, voice low and thick with intent.

Hands slickened with conditioner cupped the lower reaches of Bronwyn's breasts, the cowgirl feeling as he took on the full weight of her bust. Arthur flexed his fingers as his palms sunk into the supple, firm yet yielding mass. Angling his hands slightly, between the lubrication of the water and the conditioner he could feel as they began to slide slowly through his grasp, pulled down by their own weight.

The hard, hot peaks of her nipples were drawn tantalisingly across his fingers like percussion sticks along a xylophone, telegraphing Bronwyn's own aroused state to a man who was drinking in her every sound and motion in entirety. The direct physical contact stirred her into gasping out a sharp moo, pitching forwards as a result and stabilising herself with palms flat against the tiled wall just beneath the shower.

With Bronwyn's unexpected change in position her pendulous breasts were liberated entirely from Arthur's grip. At the angle she now stood her tail was raised, swaying and trembling in its own right, almost as if it were trying to signal the cowgirl's desires directly to the only man who could do something about it.

His expression a salacious smirk coloured entirely by his intentions, Arthur once again closed the gap between his lover and himself, leaning over her and slipping a single arm around her torso, the other around her abdomen so that his palm rested flat against Bronwyn's stomach just beneath her bellybutton, fingers splayed. He began to trace that hand slowly lower, running through her soft, wet fur, but one of her own hands moved down to stop him.

Arthur's first thought was that she didn't want him to continue. There was a moment of confusion where he wondered if he'd misinterpreted the situation, but then his bovine belle began to speak.

"No." she breathed, turning her head and looking back, "That's not what I need..."

She didn't have to say any more. They both knew what came next.

Left hand at her waist, Arthur used one of his feet to separate Bronwyn's ankles as far as the tub would allow. With his other hand he gripped his length, taking aim a moment before he stepped forwards. He was in her to the hilt only seconds later, his pelvis flush against her buttocks, such was the intensity of her own arousal. Arthur could feel Bronwyn's entire body tense up as she engulfed him, but she offered no complaint.

Arthur only held that position briefly, given no further choice when Bronwyn began to slowly move against him. She was as eager as he was for things to move forwards, so he wasted no time. Taking a firm grasp of her hips the eager male set off apace, guiding her motions as he forced himself roughly in and out of the stoked heat of her sex.

With the hot water cascading down their bodies the small room quickly echoed with the resounding slap of skin against fur-covered skin each and every time Arthur hilted himself. He could feel Bronwyn lift her backside, arching her back and pushing herself off the wall to meet his every inward thrust.

It wasn't love-making, but a raw impassioned rutting by two lovers caught entirely in their lust, their need, their want of the other. It sounded sloppy and rough on account of the flowing water, and it felt as much to the both of them, the wanton rigor that suffused their session combining quickly towards a rising crescendo.

Bronwyn could feel Arthur's hands grow tighter at her hips. Biting her lower lip and looking back over her shoulder through half-lidded eyes heavy with lust, she watched her lover as he took her, his own gaze directed downwards. She knew he was watching her nether lips greedily engulf his rampant length over and over, watching himself vanish then withdraw, the obscenely erotic display serving perfectly to fuel his fire.

Knowing how much it would spur him on the lust-driven bovine redoubled her efforts against him. Gaze cast downwards as she panted to catch her own breath amidst the cascading water, her breasts swaying and slapping together the dominant sight in her field of view. She was forced to surrender a supporting arm to restraining them, but she afforded herself the opportunity to pinch and pull at one of her nipples.

The touch, though her own, still proved electric, her back arching all the more as a pleasured moan forced its way from her lips.

Bronwyn barely registered the way Arthur's breathing had turned to grunts, focused instead on the intense force with which he pushed himself into her. He was getting erratic, almost desperate in tempo.

He was close.

Suddenly one of his hands was grabbing at a breast, so she surrendered one from her own clutches for him to grasp at. He latched on, hard nipple embedded in his palm, giving a firm squeeze that felt so delightfully close to painful.

The remaining hand at her hip pulled back, Bronwyn adding to the momentum with her own forceful push.

Arthur was buried as deeply as he'd ever been.

With a bestial grunt he erupted, spilling his molten seed deep into her eager, welcoming core.

Bronwyn let off a long, low moo as her womanhood tensed around him, his firm grip at her bosom and his throbbing length within filling her with the blissful delights she'd so craved from him.

The pair simply stood there, remaining joined, as they tried to catch their breath, the water from the shower washing away any carelessly spilled evidence of their lovemaking.

But the memory, the sensation, lingered a fair while longer.

-o-O-o-

When they were standing side-by-side Arthur often wondered why he bore so little outward resemblance to his father. Aside from the scraggly blonde hair and the fact that he only had about an inch of height over his dad the two shared virtually no other similarities. Physically, at least, Arthur seemed to have inherited largely from his mother's side - perhaps an errant affair with the milkman explained the differences between himself and his dad? Arthur's green eyes, for example, were a testament to the disparity. His dad's were more of an icy grey-blue. And where his father's face was much more angular and rugged, his body closer to being stocky and fairly large-set with a bit of a late middle-age paunch setting in, Arthur was much more lithe and could probably have passed for athletic if he'd pushed himself to set about any serious exercise regimen.

But when it came to personality - temperament, sense of humour, and a blunt streak with a width that could be measured in kilometres - the two could almost have been mistaken for brothers.

Arthur supposed that was why they'd remained so close. He'd always made sure to visit his old man at least once per week ever since first moving out. Though, sometimes, the overt bluntness that often suffused their repartee could be gratingly incessant...

"So when do I get to meet this mysterious buxom wench of yours?"

And there it was.

Arthur knew from years of experience that it was intended as a good-natured jibe. But he also knew how easy it could be for somebody else to take comments like that completely out of their intended context and take offence.

"Dad, she's not a mystery." Arthur decided he was going to let the "buxom wench" part slide. Bronwyn would've probably found it amusing herself, anyway, "I've told you, her name's Bronwyn and she's an anthromorph."

"Right, right. Bovine. Used to be in dairy." His dad waved a hand dismissively, like it was something he'd been aware of all along but just hadn't been important enough to recollect, "So when are you going to bring her over?"

Arthur had also been expecting that. His dad always seemed to take an active interest.

"I don't know."

"How about this weekend?"

His dad seemed genuinely hopeful, and Arthur felt sorry that he had to let him down, "We can't. Her mum's coming over."

"That's great!" To Arthur's surprise his dad seemed genuinely enthused by the revelation, "Bring her too. We can have a family meal; all get to know one-another."

Arthur, surprised by the ingenuity of the idea, had to ponder it for a moment. It seemed like a genuinely good way to kill two birds with one stone - introduce Bronwyn to his dad whilst he met her mother - though he didn't want to sign off on it right away. He still needed the consent of a certain cowgirl in order to get things organised, "I'll ask Wyn."

Even so, Arthur was sure she'd go along with it.

-o-O-o-

"I don't see why not." Bronwyn leaned across the small coffee table, pouring tea into Arthur's mug from what he'd deemed to be the world's smallest ever teapot. They'd spent quite some time discussing just how Bronwyn managed to fit more than a single-cup serving into it. Whilst she maintained that it was just an ordinary teapot, Arthur had asserted that it had to be the miniaturised offspring of a TARDIS or something like that. It was the only logical explanation; bigger on the inside! "I think it's as good a chance as any. You meet my mum, I meet your dad. What could possibly go wrong?"

There was an ironic tang to Bronwyn's words, Arthur noticed, almost as if she were deliberately tempting the fates to step in and prove some kind of point.

Or maybe it wouldn't even require the fates?

"Clearly you've never met my dad." Arthur said wryly as he reached for the cup, shaking his head politely when Bronwyn offered him the tiny milk jug. He found himself wondering if it was hers or something she'd bought. Would a dairy cow actually use their own milk like that? It'd make good fiscal sense. But then again how would most guests feel if they knew they were imbibing the specifically expressed bodily fluids of their host?

Arthur filed the thought in the back of his mind for later review.

"Kinda the point here..." Bronwyn mused as she topped up her own teacup.

Arthur's gaze shifted to a little bowl of sugar cubes, eying it with intent scrutiny, "Touché."

"Just one thing." Bronwyn had no such reservations, dropping four whole cubes and stirring as they vanished, watching her milky tea as it swirled lazily around her teaspoon, "Why don't we have the meal here?"

Arthur looked at the room around them, open plan and leading directly into an adjoining dining room, trying to picture it in his mind, "In your place?"

"Sure." Bronwyn leaned back, curling her legs up beneath her as she settled into her armchair, taking a slight sip and enjoying the sweet, soothing warmth that ran down her throat, "Gives us the home team advantage."

"You make it sound like it'll be us versus them."

"Well you never know." Bronwyn winked.

Arthur knew she was joking, but still he felt the thinnest edge of anxiety beginning to bubble up in his stomach. First impressions were always the most important impressions, and he just knew that with Bronwyn's history her mother was unlikely to hold human males in much regard at all.

If things didn't go perfectly then he'd have even more ground to make up.

-o-O-o-

Thanks to Arthur's very precise directions his dad had very little trouble finding Bronwyn's place. Add to that a fairly reliable sense of direction and there was actually very little chance of him getting lost in the first place, even in an unfamiliar area of the suburbs. Still, it was always a relief to reach a destination with as little fuss as possible, and this was no exception. The fact that his son was standing on the pavement at the end of a driveway along with two women who were clearly bovine anthromorphs - the horns and tails were a dead giveaway - also offered a pretty big clue that he was on the right track. The women had their backs to the road, though Arthur saw his dad as he was pulling up and offered a welcoming wave.

By the time the car was parked and he'd killed the engine, ready to climb out, all three of them were facing his way.

"Hello ladies and gents," Arthur's dad began with an amicable smile, "It's a pleasure to... finally... meet..." he fell silent as he took in the sight of the two cow women.

Arthur had described Bronwyn to him several times, and a part of his mind had assumed the usual degree of exaggeration that a smitten man could all too readily descend into when describing his lady love. It quickly became apparent that his assumption had been a major and rather obvious mistake; Arthur's words hadn't really done them justice at all.

One of the bovidae ladies was clearly a fair bit younger than the other, so he took that to obviously be Bronwyn. It was also blatantly obvious that the two were related. Aside from darker brown eyes and a slightly different patter of bistre fur against that base coat of tan, one of them could simply have been an older version of the other. The same height, similar facial structure, practically identical figure; at a glance they were almost completely physically indistinguishable - the younger one's waist maybe pinched in a bit more than the elder's - but aside from the age difference there wasn't much in it. Or maybe he was just that unaccustomed to differentiating between Anthromorphs of their... Persuasion?

But boy, what a figure they each had. He found himself involuntarily staring, eyes drawn inexorably to the alluring contours offered up for display, some far more prominently on show than others...

It took a firm cough from Arthur to bring his dad's mind back into focus.

"Oh, sorry!" he blurted an apology as he registered what he'd been doing. A lecherous stare into a woman's cleavage wasn't the best way to make a good first impression, "Erm, I'm Owen, Arthur's dad."

He offered his hand to the elder of the two ladies. There was a moment of awkward silence where she simply glared into his eyes with a piercing, scrutinising gaze, and the man wasn't sure whether she was trying to psyche him out or make him spontaneously burst into flames.

Those few seconds began to draw out like a blade.

Arthur, watching the whole thing helplessly, wasn't sure what to do about it.

Thankfully Bronwyn was much quicker to seize the initiative, stepping forwards and taking Owen's outstretched hand herself, "Hi." She offered, "I'm Bronwyn." She shook his hand gently, "And this is my mother..."

Bronwyn looked at her mum intently, but the elder cow was too busy frowning at Arthur's dad to notice. Bronwyn elbowed her firmly in the side of the ribs, "Mother..." she hissed, catching her eye and shooting an insistent glance towards Owen as she released his hand.

"Right..." The elder cow said slowly, taking a cautious half-step forwards and accepting Owen's hand in her own. She squeezed it, but she didn't shake, "Iona Rosabella."

Owen, hoping to redeem himself somewhat, lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft, gentlemanly kiss against the back of her furred fingers in the probably vain hopes of at least seeming a bit more chivalrous than his reactionary leering had made him appear, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Rosabella."

It didn't work. Iona's icy gaze didn't thaw for an instant.

"So," Arthur decided to speak up before things could stall again, "Ready to eat?"

-o-O-o-

Owen had been unsure as to what he should expect from the meal, wondering precisely what they were all going to have. He knew how the human diet worked, obviously, but when it came to the bovines present at the table he was much less certain since he assumed they didn't eat meat. As it turned out it he needn't have expected anything all that unusual. Arthur and Bronwyn had been careful to prepare food that posed no issues for either of their guests. Mostly it just seemed to be a generous serving of pasta and some mysterious thick red sauce dished out so that they had a plate each. It smelled delicious.

"We're obviously herbivores," Bronwyn had explained whilst they were serving up, gesturing to herself and her mother, "But we're not going to begrudge an omnivore eating meat." Then she'd added with a chuckle, "As long as it's not beef."

"Shame. It's tasty." Owen blurted before his mind could fully catch up to his mouth.

Bronwyn chuckled nervously. Arthur face-palmed. Iona shot him a disapproving glare.

"Ummm... I mean... Sorry." Owen sank back into his seat, hoping in no small part that a hole would open up in the ground beneath him and just swallow him up. So far he wasn't making a very good first impression.

Bronwyn felt a certain amount of sympathy for the downcast man, so she tried her best to lighten the mood before the inevitable awkward silence could descend and take root, "Don't worry. We're all in dairy."

"That explains a lot."

For a moment Owen's eyes had lit up hopefully, and he was just trying to keep the conversation flowing. Iona was quick to put an end to that.

"What does _that_mean?" her eyes narrowed.

"Well," Owen seemed to stumble for the right words. What had seemed like a pleasant enough dining room suddenly felt much more like an interrogation chamber. "it's just obvious..."

"I see." Iona's tone carried an overbearing air of accusation as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the man with what he could only describe as intense disdain.

Owen gulped. Was she really that mad? She was proving difficult to properly read, but she definitely seemed angry. It seemed he couldn't put a foot right.

"Well it only takes a glance," he looked across hopefully at Arthur, eyes pleading that he'd step in and help, "Right?"

"What Arthur's dad means to say," Bronwyn interjected, trying to salvage the situation, "Is that Arthur already told him what you do."

"Yes!" Owen seized upon the opportunity a little too eagerly, as if it were his very last lifeline, "That!"

Iona still seemed unconvinced, but she let the matter drop anyway, turning the full intensity of her scrutinous gaze on the other human male present at the table, "So, Arthur, what exactly do you do?"

Bronwyn frowned intently at her mother, recognising the impending signs in her combative tone, "We've already been over this."

"Really?" Iona leaned back in her chair, looking up to the ceiling in thought, "Must've slipped my mind. Humour me."

Arthur knew that she was testing him, the realisation not actually a large stretch of the imagination. He knew how much Bronwyn's mother must care for her, especially given the insights Bronwyn herself had offered him. But still, he couldn't quite work out the line Iona was actually angling for, or why she was being so overtly confrontational, but he knew this was definitely leading into something specific, "I'm in stock control, Ma'am. Your daughter is my direct superior."

"Ah." The elder cow nodded as if it were a genuine revelation, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forwards, "So you're beneath her?"

"In more ways than one..." Owen grumbled under his breath, disgruntled, as he prodded at the food on his plate with his fork. Arthur had to stifle a scoff. At least he knew from that little comment that his dad was on the side of Bronwyn and himself. That meant they were only fighting against one disapproving parent.

Judging by the way Iona's ears twitched in agitation she'd caught what Owen had said too, but she'd chosen to ignore it or at least to not react to it, keeping her attention firmly locked on the younger of the two men. No distractions? She was clearly intent on making her point, whatever it was.

"Yes." Arthur nodded, addressing the elder cow woman directly, "I work as her underling."

"So what you're saying is she could do better?"

And there it was.

Arthur had no comeback to that. The resounding clatter of cutlery against crockery snatched everybody's attention back to Arthur's dad.

Owen had thrown down his fork onto his plate, his brow furrowed and his face flushed with irritation, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing at all." Iona dismissed innocently, "I'm just curious. Your son clearly thinks my daughter could do better too."

"My son is more than good enough for your daughter." Owen scowled through gritted teeth, "He loves her. Isn't that enough?"

"You don't think they'd each be better with one of their own kind?" Iona seemed genuinely surprised by Owen's stance on their children's relationship.

In Arthur's mind all of the different discordant fragments of his confusion finally clicked into place, weaving themselves into a clear and obvious tapestry. Iona wasn't being combative for the sake of causing a stir. She was honestly concerned for Bronwyn, and this was a test. He could only assume that it was because of what Bronwyn had been through in the past. There was no way Owen could know about any of this, and it struck Arthur as a bit unfair that Iona would in any way take it out on him. But now, at least, Arthur knew where she was coming from. He could sympathise, without condoning or condemning.

He understood.

Bronwyn clearly knew it too, "Mum, don't worry, okay? I trust him."

But the elder cow seemed less than impressed, refusing to let the issue go, "Yes. And we all remember what happened the last time you trusted a human like that."

Bronwyn's eyes widened, her expression flitting through a plethora of emotions in an instant from one of deep, unexpected hurt, all the way to outrage. Without a word she dropped her own cutlery to the table, rose to her feet and simply walked off.

Everybody watched her in silence.

It was Arthur who spoke first, his brow set sternly and his tone levelling out to match, "That was uncalled for."

"She's told you what happened then, has she?" there was no surprise in Iona's voice. Of course she'd expected Bronwyn to tell him about it all.

"She has. She deserved better than that at the time. And she deserves better than to be held hostage to it over a decade later." Arthur rose to his feet without breaking eye contact, promptly stalking off in search of Bronwyn.

Owen eyed Iona intently, trying once more to figure her out. Something just didn't make sense...

The moment they were alone nothing about her seemed to change, and yet at the same time everything did. It was as if she'd removed a mask, every feature seeming to soften, revealing a much less aggressive creature beneath.

"What did I miss?" Arthur's dad asked, thoroughly confused by everything he'd just witnessed.

For the first time Iona actually seemed to be happy, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of her lips, "A gallant young man putting a cynical old cow in her place."

Owen's eyebrow piqued in curiosity.

Iona's eyebrow piqued in riposte.

There was a moment of wordless conversation between the two of them, and then they burst out laughing.

She'd achieved everything she'd set out to achieve.

Iona leaned forwards as the laughter fell away, placing her elbows on the table resting her chin in her palms, "So, Mr Pendragon... Tell me about yourself."

-o-O-o-

Arthur's search didn't take very long. He knew Bronwyn well enough to know that when she was stressed or upset she'd usually retreat out into her back garden. He found her standing bare-footed on the lawn, balling and then relaxing her feet over and over again in a slow, sedate rhythm, soothed by the sensation of the grass between her toes. It was her sanctum, her sanctuary from the stresses of the world, a place untouched by any but the evening sun and those whom she deemed worthy to enter, her very own lush and green paradise. Arthur removed his own shoes and socks, as was her rule for the grass, and joined her, stepping up behind the petite cowgirl and slipping his arms around her waist, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he whispered softly.

Bronwyn's ear flicked across his nose, and he felt her release a deep breath that seemed like it had been years in the making, leaning back into him all the while, "I _had_hoped she'd not bring that up."

"She knows I know." Arthur said.

Bronwyn nodded slowly, letting off another, less protracted sigh. Arthur could feel the tension as it left her body, "I wish she'd let it go. You're different."

"She's probably just looking out for you."

"Whose side are you on?" Bronwyn teased, turning her head to the side so she could look back at him. Arthur was wearing a lopsided grin.

"Devil's advocate." his lips found her cheek with a tender butterfly kiss.

"I'll tell my mother you just called her the devil."

"Great." Arthur enthused, pulling Bronwyn tighter to him and nuzzling his nose just behind her ear, "When you scatter my ashes save some of them for the beach."

"Nah. I think they'd go well with this lawn. A little potash does it the world of good."

Arthur chuckled, just standing there embracing his love for a while as they wrapped themselves in the tranquil silence.

-o-O-o-

The human-bovine duo returned to the house after no more than half an hour to themselves out in the garden, the two of them eventually realising that it probably hadn't been wise to leave their parents alone together for so long. Bronwyn had joked that her mother had probably already eaten Arthur's dad alive whilst his guard was down. Arthur was sure that she was probably right given the state of affairs that he'd left behind when he'd chased after Bronwyn.

The scene at the dining room table couldn't have been much further away from the one they'd imagined.

Iona sat at the table, her dress hanging off her shoulders and breasts resting heavily on the table top. Owen was stood behind her, reaching down over the elder cow's shoulders, hands with a firm hold of her bosom and his fingers stimulating her nipples and areola.

A slight damp patch stained the tablecloth in front of them, Iona's milk still dripping lightly from her erect nipples.

"Um... Hi kids?" Owen grinned sheepishly as they entered, though he didn't remove his hands from the exposed cow woman.

"Moo." Bronwyn's mum offered, her eyes somewhat glazed over as she just sat there, on display for all to see.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes, "Mum, put those away and help me fetch desert."

With a frustrated sigh Iona took Arthur's dad by the wrists and moved his hands off to the side, taking a moment to properly re-dress herself. A few brief moments of straightening out the creases and she was back to being modestly dressed, rising from her seat and following Bronwyn into the kitchen.

Owen watched both of them go, leaving him alone with his son, offering quietly, "I see why you like cows."

Arthur kept his eyes on Bronwyn's behind, the way her tail flicked and danced below the lower hem of her dress as her hips swayed keeping his rapt attention, "One in particular."

-o-O-o-

Bronwyn had bought in ice cream especially for the family meal. A small part of her mind mused on the potential irony of a cow purchasing something that was, essentially, derived exclusively from dairy - a smaller part still wondered if perhaps she'd indirectly lent a hand (or even breast) in making it.

But even as she removed the tub from the freezer and placed it down on the side, retrieving four bowls she'd left out earlier on, the majority of her thoughts lingered on the scene Arthur and herself had interrupted when they'd re-entered the dining room.

"Mum, what was that all about?"

"Oh," Iona leaned back casually against the worktop opposite, "just sating some curiosity."

Bronwyn raised an eyebrow as she fished the ice cream scoop out of a nearby drawer, "His or yours?"

Iona chuckled, her tone rife with knowing mischief, but she offered nothing in response.

"You know breasts are almost exclusively sexual to humans, right?" Bronwyn shot her mother a questioning glare.

"Absolutely."

There had been no minute measure of doubt in her mother's assertion, "So that was...?"

A sly smirk crossed Iona's lips, "He's pretty handsome, for a human."

Bronwyn let off an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose between a thumb and forefinger, "After the grief you gave me..."

She just couldn't believe it. In spite of everything her mother had told her when she was growing up, after all the lectures when she'd spent her first time with Mal, after everything that had gone on that day with her mother's attitude towards Owen and Arthur... In spite of all of that, Bronwyn's mother was now taking an actual interest in a man? In a human?

"Look, Bronwyn," Iona became entirely serious, "I'm sorry about that. It's just..."

"I know." Her daughter had heard it all before, "You only want what's best for me."

"No."

Bronwyn blinked, taken aback. No?

"I want you to be happy." Iona went on, "That doesn't always mean what's best for you, but as long as you're happy that doesn't really matter."

Bronwyn was genuinely stunned, "That isn't what I was expecting to hear."

"You're not the only one who's learned a thing or two since you left the farm." Iona folded her arms across herself, flashing her daughter a smug, knowing wink.

"Oh really?" Bronwyn asked with a dubious chuckle as she began scooping ice cream into the bowls, "And what else have you learned?"

Her mother looked back towards the door they'd entered through, the elder cow thinking of how Arthur had spoken to her earlier on behalf of her own daughter, and then Owen drifted into her mind, "Some of them may be worth giving a chance."

Bronwyn could almost see the cogs turning within her mother's mind, "You're not thinking about..."

Iona's eyebrows danced suggestively, "Maybe."

Bronwyn rolled her eyes, pushing a bowl of ice cream forcibly into her mother's hands, "Go give the man his dessert."

Iona laughed, turning to the door and stepping off, "Oh, and the way Arthur came to your defence? Very gallant."

She'd slipped into the dining room before Bronwyn could respond.

-o-O-o-

The quartet managed to pull off the rest of the meal without so much as a single hitch. Iona seemed to be spending very little of her time focusing on aggressively interrogating the other people around the table and more on actually getting to know them - though aggressively flirting with Owen seemed to have firmly taken its place. Bronwyn had watched, trying to hide a cringe at times, as her mother had employed just about every single flirtatious cliché to keep the man's rapt attention.

Owen had eaten it up, of course. She'd had him feeding her ice cream with his own spoon in mere moments.

Whatever had happened between the pair earlier - neither Arthur nor Bronwyn were precisely sure what it was - it had clearly served to break the ice between not only Bronwyn's lover and her mother, but also between both of their parents in a manner that the younger cowgirl hadn't even considered possible when she'd retreated to the garden earlier.

After the compromising circumstances Owen and Iona been caught in earlier, though... Well, part of Arthur was relieved they were getting on so well.

Another part of his mind was very, very worried about what that meant.

Still, both Bronwyn and he could congratulate themselves on a successful dessert at least. All's well that ends well, right?

It was well into the evening when it eventually came time for their parents to depart. Both Arthur and Bronwyn said their respective goodbyes as they'd seen their guests to the door, the pair of them standing on the doorstep to wave them off, watching as they walked side-by-side along the driveway.

"Iona, would you like a ride home?" Owen offered as he unlocked his car from a distance.

"Thanks. But I drove here myself." She stepped beyond him, the lights of the car parked directly in front of his flashing to life as the doors unlocked, as if they were reaffirming what she'd said.

"Oh..." he cast his eyes downwards, a little disheartened.

When the cow woman's hand slipped into his line of vision, a piece of paper folded neatly between two of her fingers, Owen looked up again to be greeted by the most radiant of warm smiles, "But here's my number. Give me a call."

He was all the more bewildered when she leaning in, pressing her soft lips gently to his cheek, giving him a tender peck before turning to wave to Arthur and Bronwyn. Barely a moment later she'd climbed into her car and driven off.

Owen was a little slower as he came back into himself, but he waved and made off too.

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what he'd just witnessed, "Did they just...?"

"Yep." Bronwyn chirped.

"So they're going to...?"

"Most likely."

Arthur groaned, an unwelcomed and disturbingly graphic memories of Bronwyn's mum and his father at the table, the man fondling the cow... "I need a drink or something."

Bronwyn turned to face him with a chuckle and a smirk, pushing Arthur forcefully back into the house by his shoulder and closing the door behind her with a quick flick of one leg. With a slam and a clunk it closed on the latch, the cowgirl placing her other hand against his crotch, "I need an `or something'..."

Arthur was caught off-guard by her sudden assertiveness, but just because it was unexpected didn't mean it was at all unwelcome, "Well you're in quite the mood. What brought this on?"

"A moment of chivalry."

He would've pondered it further, but his cowgirl grabbed him by the collar and pulled his entire torso down to meet her in a kiss.

Arthur placed his hands at her waist, resting them atop the welcomed flare of her hips. It was one of her more subtle, less obvious curves, but it was one of his favourites, simply because it fit his hands so neatly.

It also made the perfect spot to pull her flush to his body and turn the impassioned kiss into a full bodied embrace.

Usually at that point Bronwyn would slip her arms around his neck and support herself on tiptoes, the moments fusing together and then melting away into eternity. For some reason she didn't, forcing Arthur to break the kiss and straighten up as his back began to ache.

He was going to ask her if something was wrong, but there was a devilish glint in her eye.

"What?" he asked slowly.

Her tail was dancing excitedly behind her.

She didn't speak. Instead Bronwyn grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back towards the staircase. Arthur obediently urged his legs to follow her direction, the cowgirl allowing herself to fall back onto the stairs, sitting perched on the edge of a step a few from the bottom.

Bronwyn had left him leaning over her, though she was forced to release her grasp on his collar so that she could support herself properly, elbows propped on one of the stairs behind her. Arthur, looming over her and recapturing the lips of his bovine belle, pinned her arms to the stairs with his hands. It helped when Bronwyn bent her own legs around him, her heels pressing into the back of Arthur's knees, forcing them to yield.

She'd manoeuvred Arthur into such a position that almost his entire body held her against the staircase. Using her own assertiveness, Bronwyn had somehow managed to thrust Arthur into the dominant position.

When the kiss broke Arthur pulled away, though just far enough that he could hold Bronwyn's eyes with his gaze, leaving them both nose to nose. He enjoyed seeing the hunger that burned in her hazel-brown depths, and with the cowgirl beneath him thusly pinned, he began to feel the need he could see held therein simmer within himself too.

"Arthur?" Bronwyn whispered breathily.

"Hmmm?"

"Look down."

He did. He was standing between Bronwyn's thighs. With her legs parted in that fashion the cowgirl's dress had worked its way up her form to gather about her hips, allowing Arthur a moment of revelation.

"Wyn?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Where's your underwear?"

For a moment the cowgirl looked highly thoughtful, then, "Give me my hands back."

Straightening up Arthur took his weight off her forearms. Bronwyn used her new-found freedom to sit up a little bit, leaning forwards. Quicker than Arthur could protest she reached forwards and unhooked the fastener above his fly, the zip falling to her whims in short order.

His trousers fell to pool around his ankles. Under the cowgirl's direct ministrations his briefs soon shared that fate.

Bronwyn went back to reclining against the staircase, admiring the view - and her lover's excitement - with a lick of her lips and a sly smirk, "Underwear is highly overrated."

Arthur knew what came next, and he was eager to indulge. Ready for more he was about to drop to his knees, eager and willing to taste her, but Bronwyn's fingertips at his cheek stopped him. He looked at his love with curiosity in his eyes.

"No." she said, "I'm ready."

No foreplay?

"But what if I finish and you haven't-"

Bronwyn silenced him by pulling him in forcefully for another kiss. Arthur came close to overbalancing, quick reactions allowing him to catch himself with an arm either side of Bronwyn's torso supporting his weight on the step immediately behind the cowgirl's upper back.

That allowed Bronwyn to slip her arms around Arthur's neck, the space between them falling to zero.

Arthur took a half step forwards, leaving them crotch to crotch. He could feel her dampness as it came into contact with his throbbing length. Without either of them using their hands he managed to align himself, the head of his arousal parting her lips. She was hot with molten need, as tantalising and enticing as ever he could remember.

With a long, insistent thrust upwards he was hilted within her, Bronwyn signalling her approval with a lusty moo into Arthur's lips. He was still for only a moment before he began to withdraw, Bronwyn already tensing herself in anticipation of Arthur's next deep, inward thrust.

Arthur's kisses left her lips, moving across her cheek and tracing the line of her jaw until he found her neck. The cowgirl shivered as he found the sweet spot between her neck and clavicle. He followed the line of her shoulder, finding the strap of her dress and taking it between his teeth, slipping it off her shoulder entirely. The front of her dress fell at one side, revealing one of the cowgirl's generous breasts and an eager, aroused nipple.

No further pretence was given to patience, Bronwyn relishing Arthur's fervour as he moved down and wrapped his lips around it.

Bronwyn caressed the back of his head lovingly as he sucked and bit at her, the sensations working in tandem with Arthur's slow, deep thrusts to stoke her inner fire. The cowgirl was quick to reach down with her other hand, seeking out their joining with eager fingertips, brushing them across the hot nub of her own appreciative clit.

There had always been something about a woman touching herself for her own pleasure that Arthur had found exceptionally sensuous and stimulating. That was all the more true with Bronwyn, though what really topped off the whole effect was the way that the cowgirl held his eyes with his own, that combined glimmer of need, lust and pure adoration compounding the effect almost beyond belief.

Every thrust pushed Arthur closer to the edge in leaps and bound.

"Bronwyn..." he wanted to warn her, "I'm..."

"Shhh..." she whimpered herself, "No words."

Arthur nodded. She already knew, so he allowed himself to focus solely on the moment.

Bronwyn felt his hands move around to the small of her back, what strength Arthur could spare being used to pull her body closer to him as he increased his wanton pace. In the deepest throes of their passions he always seemed so confident, and Bronwyn loved it when he took her like that.

She closed her eyes as her back arched under his guidance, her breasts lifting as a result, the delectable sensation of Arthur's teeth digging into her areola as he tried to recapture her nipple.

Bronwyn recognised the familiar signs of his erratic pace, the incessant suckling at her bosom, and the way his fingers seemed to flex as he held her smaller frame. She knew it won't be long.

So when Arthur stopped it caught her completely off guard.

There was a brief moment when she considered asking him why, but any question that may have formed on her lips dissolved into a whimper when he fully withdrew. Fortunately for the cowgirl her human lover was quick to move, pulling Bronwyn to her feet and taking her place on the staircase.

The penny was quick to drop, so when Arthur encouraged her to sit back down she could read his intentions as clearly as if he'd spoken them. With a leg either side of him, feet planted a couple of steps lower, Bronwyn crouched with her back to his chest, lowering herself. She paused only as long as she needed to in order to ensure Arthur's length was properly aimed before letting gravity do its work and impaling herself fully upon him.

She was about to move against him, but Arthur's eagerness spurred him into taking the initiative, thrusting apace into her with a forceful gyration of his hips.

Bronwyn bit her lip, stifling a moan. She would've moved against him but the pace he was setting and the position she was in would've prevented her from hitting the right stride. Arthur was doing a fine job of it by himself anyway, the cowgirl's knees trembling as they supported her weight. She was sure that if she hadn't been leaning back against Arthur then they would've given way. With a familiar sensation rising up within she decided to just let herself enjoy it, so when the next moan came she didn't even try to hold it back.

For a moment it felt as if her human lover was everywhere at once, not just within her, taking her, but he was beneath and around her too. His chest rose and fell behind her in rapid pants, his arms reaching around her smaller frame, his hands seeking out her breasts and grasping them in a need-filled squeeze. Bronwyn could feel his heated breath at her neck, ragged from his exertion.

Arthur's teeth sank pleasantly into her neck, a firm and insistent nip. There was one deep, final thrust to the hilt, and he held himself inside her. He gasped and Bronwyn felt him erupt within her, hot ropes of his seed the culmination of their lust.

It was all the cowgirl could take, her body convulsing as orgasm claimed her in its ravaging throes.

Arthur rode out his high as he throbbed inside Bronwyn, the cowgirl finally letting her legs give way to leave her reclining full and contented against his chest.

They lay there sweating as they each caught their breath.

Strong, safe arms wrapped their way around Bronwyn's torso in a loving embrace from behind. She felt such contentment, such adoration and satiation in that one moment that she hoped they could stretch it out into infinity. It wouldn't, of course, though the tender kiss as his lips lovingly brushed her neck was a near equal consolation.

It was only then as they came back to the wider world around them that Arthur noticed it was well and truly pitch dark outside.

Sweaty, spent, and still firmly embedded within his love he felt no inclination to move.

"Mind if I stay the night?"

Bronwyn responded, quick as a whip and gentle as a whisper, "Mind staying every night?"

His answer was a no-brainer.

-o-O-o-

Mondays often came around far too quickly and their distasteful penchant for lingering often made the next weekend feel like it was forever and a day away. Naturally, it was the idea of returning to the monotony of the workplace that made Mondays seem so intolerably unbearable from a distance, so of course being able to spend time in good company often put paid to that.

Standing in front of her filing cabinet, her back to Arthur who was currently sat in the chair between the cowgirl and her desk, Bronwyn's dislike of Mondays couldn't have been further from her mind. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her back (or perhaps a little bit lower) as she sorted through a variety of files. He was watching her, waiting.

"So, today's the day we get our third wheel?" Arthur asked.

"Yep." Bronwyn nodded, though she didn't turn around, "So you'll have to behave yourself from now on."

She felt Arthur grab her tail, his fingers playing with the little tuft of platinum hair at the very tip, "When do I ever misbehave?"

Bronwyn had turned her head to look down at him with a dubious pique of an eyebrow before he'd even finished the sentence. The sight that greeted her was Arthur holding her tail to his upper lip, using the tuft to give himself a moustache.

"Give me that!" Bronwyn smirked as she snatched it back from his grasp, picking up the papers she'd removed from the cabinet and stepping around Arthur to place them neatly on the far side of her desk.

Arthur spun idly in the chair so that he too was facing the desk that divided him from the cowgirl now standing on the other side of it, "So, what's the newbie like?"

"No idea." Bronwyn shrugged, perching herself lightly on the corner of her desk, "All personnel have given me is a name."

"And?"

"Aracelia Elethea."

In all honesty Bronwyn wasn't at all sure that she was pronouncing it correctly. Still, that would be something they could clear up when the new recruit got there with little more than a simple introduction.

Arthur seemed less than satisfied by the answer, "Well that tells me nothing."

A knock at the door cut Bronwyn off before she could respond.

"Come in." She called.

The door slowly opened to reveal the burly form of the personnel manager. He stepped silently into the room, offering a respectful nod in greeting to its occupants, then stepped out of the way and held the door open.

"Got ye 'notha greenhorn." He said.

He gestured for whoever was with him to enter the room, and it definitely hadn't been what Arthur or Bronwyn had been expecting. A female tortoiseshell cat padded quietly into the office, smartly dressed, handpaws clasped together and fidgeting, seemingly somewhat nervous. First day jitters, no doubt. Everybody had to endure them at some point.

Bronwyn noted with some satisfaction that the feline was about the same height as she was - no room there for short jokes! That had been something she'd endured herself practically no end for most of her first year in the warehouse.

The cat-girl sported a striking pattern of tabbyish orange and an ever so slightly off-black brown fur that was visible on the exposed parts of her arms and neck, as well as a lengthy and luxuriantly plush tail, all of which engendered a strong contrast against the snowy white of face, neck, and all the way down to her exposed collar bone. The only interruption to the pure colour was a series of orange freckles along the crest of her cheeks, directly beneath the most vibrantly green eyes Bronwyn had ever seen. A mane of blonde hair flowed down the feline's back and shoulders, a couple of well-placed, asymmetrical bangs framing her face, the longer of the two half-covering her right eye.

Like most cats Bronwyn had met she seemed to be fairly athletically built, which would certainly bode well for the more hands-on aspects of the job. A certain degree of core strength and flexibility would no doubt prove invaluable. In spite of that, though, she did seem to have a few fairly generous curves that would highlight her gender to even the most casual of onlookers, especially around the flare of her hips. And whilst her upper half was most certainly nowhere near Bronwyn's league, neither were the feline's endowments anything to laugh at.

She was a _very_attractive cat.

One brown and one orange-patched ear twitched atop her head as she seemed to take in her new surroundings, the office as a whole drawing her attention before its occupants did.

"Aracelia?" Bronwyn asked, prompting the cat girl to actually look her way.

Her eyes met Bronwyn's for a moment, then she glanced up and down the cowgirl's form. There was that predictable moment when the calico cat's eyes crossed the bovine belle's generous décolletage and they flared wide. Bronwyn was used to that reaction from most humans and mammalian anthromorphs.

Another moment came and went before the response that Bronwyn was expecting worked its way to the feline's lips...

"Holy cow!"

With a knowing chuckle the cowgirl stepped forwards, extending a welcoming hand for Aracelia to take, "Bronwyn will suffice."

-o-O-o-

Bronwyn

Further First Impressions

-o-O-o-

By Sval

Author's Note: So, you've met the parents. How do you feel that turned out? I have mixed feelings and reservations, but it's by no means the worst I've ever done. I gave our protagonists two love scenes in this one (as I'm sure you noticed) because Arthur didn't get much action in the last one. Can't keep the man too Bronwyn-deprived, can we now?

And a wild cat girl appears. I'm sure you're wondering precisely where I'm going with this now. I guess we'll just have to wait and see!

Once again, my usual thanks to CyanCapsule for the picture that inspired the series, and for granting me permission to use her. You wouldn't be reading this if not for that work of art (click here for the original work).

And as always thank you all for reading.