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Happiness in the Last Bottle

Jesse fidgeted in his armless computer chair, making it squeak in protest. His ears felt hot and he calmed down and sat steady for a few moments, knowing that his coworkers in the adjacent cubicles were listening to his racket and sooner or later would poke their head over--or worse, come around in person--to investigate. He looked up at the monitor and how the lines of code all blurred together. The collie tried closing his eyes in a few long, slow blinks to try and shoo away the fuzziness in his vision. It worked for a few seconds before returning to an unfocused mess.

Deep breaths, he told himself. It helped a little, and the next time he opened his eyes the screen seemed clearer though looking at it seemed to hurt something in his eyes. Then, just when it seemed like he was going to be able to finish up the work he was doing, he heard a thumping sound coming from behind him which was his own tail absentmindedly flailing about. That was it, this project wasn't getting done today, and Jesse was thankful that it was 4:30 on a Friday on a week that had seemed to never end. He could mess around for the last half hour and finally be free. Maybe the weekend would be enough time to get himself together. It was only supposed to take a week before his system adjusted, after all.

Jesse's desk phone rang and the extension number on the caller ID made him scowl. "Watkins," he answered, even though he knew Emelia knew damn well who she was calling. She was going to want him to go to the office to talk something over before he left, he knew it.

"Hey," she drew out the word in an overly informal way. She was trying to be friendly--that didn't bode well. "Can you drop by my office for a few? Just a couple things I want to go over."

"Of course, let me just save what I was working on." It was a fib. Jesse hadn't typed a thing in probably an hour and a half, but she didn't need to know that, though he supposed fibbing wasn't going to help. He knew what this was going to be about: my complete lack of productivity over the past week. He took a moment to run his claws through his black and white fur and make sure his shirt was tucked in and buttoned up (even the annoying top one).

Emelia's office was only down the hall, but Jesse was able to draw out the trip and make it appear like he was saving his projects back at the desk by stopping for a quick cup of water and a few words of football small talk with Jed.

He didn't like her office. Everything was black: black desk, black bookshelves, black lamps, and even a black door. Emelia, a pure white feline, even wore an all-black business suit. He had to imagine that she thought the contrast between her fur color and her furniture meant something, but to Jesse it just made his boss seem all the more lifeless. She gestured for him to sit down.

"So what's going on this week?" She folded her paws together and sat straight up, lips pursed. Emelia didn't need to elaborate. Jesse thought about asking what she meant, but ended up answering, "Just some stuff."

"Oh, I see," she said. "Stuff."

The office air seemed to get thick and hot to Jesse. Tensions were high at the office with the constant cutbacks and efficiency meetings and he knew this might be step-one in him being next on the chopping block. What was he supposed to say? It wasn't any of his boss's business why he'd had a down week, and what's one down week against years of good weeks, anyway? Should have gone with the doctor's advice and taken the week off.

"They're some personal issues, Emelia. Should be better next week."

She flicked her tail and straightened some papers on her desk, avoiding eye contact with him. "I hope you feel better."

The train station was typically busy for a Friday and the cacophony of noise made him wince slightly. It'd gotten a lot better; on Monday and Tuesday he wanted to scream as the commotion of the crowd seemed to penetrate right into his brain. At least that side effect was ebbing away. One of the other effects was getting worse, as evidenced by the tightness in the front of his pants. Jesse hadn't been that bad since he was a teenager, but he couldn't keep dirty scenarios out of his mind.

He started to imagine what the young male wolf sitting across from him would look like without that suit on; started thinking about how the businesswolf's sheath would look in that perfect, plump state of early arousal as Jesse lowered his 'freckled' muzzle down the lupine's white belly--

No, he needed to stop. Jesse looked outside at the tall buildings and tried to think of his wife and her body and the things he could do to her. What had gotten into him, lately? He'd always had a fairly mild libido and hadn't been interested in guys beyond adolescent experimentation, yet a dozen times a day he was thinking of dick. Just one more thing to talk to the therapist about. Lucky for him Fridays after work was when his appointments were.

Doctor Oostwarden's office was busy, and Jesse sat in the tiny waiting room and tried to read the magazines that were more advertisements than articles. He gave up and checked the news on his phone until the door to the side of the reception desk and the doctor called him in.

Julia Oostwarden sat on her chair and Jesse sat on his as they'd done dozens of times. The doe raised a brow, noticing her patients constantly bouncing legs. "Little antsy, are we?"

"Rough week," he answered. Quite an understatement.

"Proflexeral is a hard drug to get off of, but I think it's good that you're trying." It had been a difficult decision for him, having been on the stuff since he was sixteen. Julia said it was pretty common for hyperactive breeds like border collies to put on it while in school, but that once they got out in the working world it probably wasn't necessary. The transition off of it was going to be rough, she warned. "How are the withdrawal symptoms?"

"Bad," he lowered his ears. She got her pen ready, and he gave it something to do. "Hard to focus, feel like I'm hearing things, and noises are very loud and I feel overwhelmed and distracted a lot." She nodded, jotting down notes. "And...uh."

"What else?" Julia asked calmly, with no hint of judgment in her tone.

Jesse fiddled with his fingers, he should be honest with his doctor, but perhaps not too honest. "My sex drive is going insane. I can't stop thinking about it. Feel like I'm going through puberty again. I uh," he sighed, "have always had some issues with sex, ya know?"

"Yes, we discussed this when you and your wife opted for in-vitro fertilization. I think you'll recall I said even then that your medication might be the cause of the issue."

He did remember that, now that she said it. "Oh."

She bobbed her head and wrote more notes. "Proflexeral lowers the libido in most people, so you've probably just been used to having no sex drive for so long that your body doesn't know what to do with the hormones it's finally noticing. It should level off soon."

"Ah, well that's good to know." The collie wasn't just having _any_sexual thoughts, though. He was thinking about all the wrong things. It didn't make sense that a medication withdrawal would suddenly make him hot for men, so maybe it was just his brain sorting stuff out. The rest of the therapy session went well. He told Doctor Oostwarden about the conversation with his boss and to his surprise Julia remembered the all black decor from a previous session when he'd brought it up. "Remember," she said at the end of their appointment, in the comforting tone she always spoke in. "If it stays bad we can always put you back on."

The happy feelings he had when he left the therapist's office slipped away as Jesse started to worry about his job and his devious fantasies. The train ride to the car park was quiet, most of the rush hour crowd having departed, and his drive home was full of rock music as he tried to fill his head with familiar tunes. They didn't drown out the negative thoughts like he'd hoped. What if Michelle found out that he was fantasizing about guys? That'sridiculous, he told himself. How can she know what you're thinking? Besides, you're not gay. If anything he was almost asexual, right? You know you're thinking about your thoughts more than you're having them, right? He did know that, but he couldn't shake the worry.

Once he opened the door to his home and smelled the telltale aroma of freshly cooked roast with potatoes and heard a familiar "welcome home, honey!" things felt better. He smiled for the first time all day and snuck his wife a peck on her cheek as she scurried around the kitchen. One of the treats he got on Fridays since he was out at therapy after work was a home cooked meal, and it was the best part of the week.

"How was work?" she asked as she pulled the big pot out of the oven that contained the roast. Jesse's eyes fixed on her rump and he felt that stir that had become all too familiar. He didn't have to guess at what _she_looked like under those jeans. He knew although she was mostly brown and white that she had that big black patch on the inside of her left thigh. That just all made him wonder how long it had actually been since they had sex. A few months?

"Honey?" she repeated, waving her arm up and down in front of his face. "Anyone home in there?"

Jesse flushed as he realized he'd zoned out. "Work was okay. You?" He could tell by the way Michelle looked at him that she didn't quite buy his answer.

"The usual."

The dinner was nice and quiet. Their daughter Melissa was out for a classmates 6th birthday slumber party, so they broke out a bottle of wine.

"This is the best roast you've made in years," he said between bites. He loved making her smile, and smile she did. She called him a flatterer, and he agreed with that title and went right on flattering her for the rest of diner. They finished with a slice of store bought pie and put the leftovers in Tupperware before settling in on the couch with the rest of the wine for a movie.

"I think Melissa is going to be gone till Sunday evening, and you remember I'm taking off to see my sister in the morning, right?"

He had completely forgotten, but nodded. "Of course I remember. Don't worry, I won't burn the place down." Jesse smirked to himself and let one of his paws wander across her leg. Might as well get some of his pent up energy out before she left in the morning, right?

"Well hello," Michelle scooted closer to him. She leaned her muzzle to his and while they kissed his fingers made short work of her button and zipper. He liked the warmth that she was generating down there, and let his fingers be drawn to it. He liked the cooing sounds she made even more as he rubbed and probed and explored. His nostrils caught a strong whiff of his wife's arousal, something that should have gotten him going wild, but as Michelle reached over to return the favor she found nothing. Jesse grumbled and she returned the pained look that he knew he also had.

"It's okay. Let's just watch the movie." Her words were tender, but then again she'd been able to practice that delivery a lot over the years.

It wasn't okay. He wasn't okay.

*

Daniel wasn't good at lasts. He'd had his 'last' cigarette hundreds of times, his 'last' drink came every night, and his 'last' random bar hookup had been weeks ago. The otter flexed his webbed paws against the painted cinderblock restroom wall and whimpered out a guttural moan as the big buck, well, bucked into him from behind.

The deer called him a cumslut and a bitch again for probably the twentieth time. Daniel knew it was true, his little round ears flattened and blushed as he heard the bigger male huff and grunt. When he felt the cervine's hooves grasp his thighs and felt the hot breath of the top on his neck he knew what was coming next. The buck emptied himself, holding the smaller otter tight as his cock and hips twitched through his orgasm. He pulled out and left without another word.

Daniel felt regret. It was just a matter of time, he told himself, before he caught something. Cleaning the random guy's cum up off his ass in the stall wasn't nearly as hot as the thoughts that led him into the bathroom were, but it was still kinda hot. But not worth it.

It started the same way every time. Depression, loneliness, and then the liquid courage. Something about drinking made him open up (in more ways than one sometimes), and he felt better. Outside the bathroom he was hit with the sound and lights of the dance floor. A dull ache in his side reminded him of another broken promise to himself as he walked in a mostly straight line to the bar.

He ordered a whiskey from and sat on the stool a little awkwardly as he tried his best to keep anything from leaking out from under his rudder-like tail. The fucking had killed most of his buzz, but the first sips of his brown beverage warmed him right back up and got him smiling and talking again. It was better than sitting at home.

Home. Daniel groaned as he cracked an eye open. It amazed him how his whole room could be dark, yet the one sliver of morning light never failed to find his face. The otter rolled over away from the window and buried his face in a pillow, noticing some discomfort in his rump; a reminder of his foolhardy adventures the night before. The taste of his last cigarette lingered in an ashy way on his tongue and his throat begged for water after having taken in one too many drinks. It was the last one that did it, Daniel told himself.

As soon as he got out of bed he wished that he'd just stayed in there. His stomach had felt okay until he started moving, but once it realized he was awake it was in full revolt. Daniel trudged his way to the bathroom, still wearing last night's clothes. He looked away from his bloodshot eyes shamefully and downed some pepto and aspirin.

The ache in his side was back, and he didn't have the benefit of dulled senses to ignore it like he had the previous night. It got worse every time he binged. Daniel didn't need to see a doctor to know his alcohol habit was coming around to haunt him. Probably a kidney, he reasoned.

His clothes reeked of spilled alcohol, smoke, and dried jizz. He dropped them off in the washer while the water ran in the shower; getting nice and hot for him when he stepped in. Daniel let the warm water cascade off his sleek fur, wishing that it could soak through to the skin like most species enjoyed. The heat and steam felt nice, though--invigorating, even. He made sure to clean and scrub his backside extra diligently, once again feeling shame at how stupid he could be.

After lunch, but not too soon after, he wandered down to his apartment complex's pool. Daniel dove under the water. It felt better than any shower possibly could to him. Under the surface he glided from one end of the pool to the other, the cool water like a warm comforting blanket. He surfaced and rolled on his back, floating atop the water and watching the clouds go by. This felt nice, he thought, before the ache in his side perked back up.

Daniel smiled to himself. For real, this time--no really, for real this time--he was going to make the word 'last' last more than a day. It wasn't him being drunk that made the guys at the club want him, it was just his own shyness that needed lubrication. He knew that much already, but he'd had enough hungover mornings and regrets. This time he meant it. He could just stay in that night, watch some movies and play video games. No, that wasn't helping his nonsocial behavior. You're going to go to that club tonight, have a fun time, meet some people, and not have a drop of alcohol. His resolve made him grin and offer a fistbump to the pool water.

How about a 'first' something? The first day of the rest of your life was such a cliché thing to say. Maybe it was just the kind of thing he needed, though.

*

Jesse dunked a couple inches of his donut into his coffee, letting it soak for a few seconds before quickly stuffing it in his mouth before it broke apart. His lip curled in a smile at the small act. Michele found the habit childish and always gave him a sideways glance if she caught him. She'd left hours ago though while he was still sound asleep, giving him the freedom to act as silly as he wanted without reproach.

He considered that coffee was probably not a good thing to help with his newfound jitters, which seemed to be the worst in the morning. The collie hadn't made any weekend plans despite having nothing to do except laze around for two days. He spent a couple hours cleaning, or at least moving the messes out of sight. He lit up a cigar from his hidden humidor that even Michele didn't know about and kicked back on the patio with a book. All in all, it was a good day except for one problem: the nagging worry about what happened last night.

"Proflexeral gay" he typed into the search bar of his browser. It was a reach, and he didn't expect any useful results.

GLBT Groups Raise Concerns over Proflexeral

Drug Administration Issues New Guidelines on Proflexeral Usage

Proflexeral: The Straight Pill?

They went on like that for several pages. Jesse's fidgeting had disappeared and he locked in on the words of each link he clicked. It felt like something was twisting around his insides as he delved into the mostly decade old news stories about the Proflexeral scandal. Though never proven, there were hundreds of accounts of the anxiety medication turning gay men's attraction to each other off. Some extreme church groups were praising it, GLBT groups were in arms about it, and Jesse was never the wiser. How had this never made the bigtime news? Surely his doctor or the drug company or someone would have said something to him.

He wasn't gay, though. He was ten years married with a six year old daughter and a wife who he did love. Love, yes, but sexually attracted to? He wasn't sexually attracted to anyone, really. Except that random stranger on the train, and the guy in your gym the other night, and the boys in school before your mom put you on medication. The whole thing was absurd. The news barely touched it, so it was probably just internet paranoia and activist bullshit. Yet his thoughts, and last night....

What if his parents knew something he didn't when he was a teenager? They always were pretty hard on the bible thumping. They would've said something though, gone to spiritual counseling first, right? No, they probably put him on Proflexeral for exactly the reasons he was told.

Jesse twirled a length of his cheekfur around with a finger as he was prone to do when thinking. This was easy, really, he had the weekend to himself so why not do an experiment? Go down to a gay bar, hang out, have a few drinks, try and flirt, and see what happened. That's cheating if you do something, though. Was it? Michelle had hooked up with Tom a couple times, owing to Jesse's performance issues. She always said if he ever had a need like that which she couldn't fill she'd understand. He didn't have to tell her. Hell, he wasn't actually going to go home with some strange man, anyway, who was he kidding?

Jesse popped open the bathroom medicine cabinet and looked longingly at the semi-transparent orange plastic bottle. There were still a lot of pills in there. He could start back on them and make this whole week go away. No more jitters, no more wandering thoughts, no more work problems, no more gay. Gay. That word hung in his thoughts as he brushed a finger against the bottle. He willed himself to close the cabinet and looked at himself in the mirror. Who was it that was looking back? Was it him? Was he even him, anymore, or had he not been himself in fifteen years?

He knew who he was, and he'd prove it by facing his strange thoughts head on.

*

Daniel checked his teeth and fur in a storefront window, making a quick adjustment to his button up and patting down a stubborn tuft on top of his head. The constant thrumming of bass tones coming from Purr and Growl, the siren call that had drawn him in for so many nights of debauchery, seemed different to him. He looked at his reflection again; saw the short, slim otter with geeky glasses that so many guys in the club oogled and wanted. They all knew the otter in there. They knew that he would get drunk and silly and all they had to do was call him cute names to have him as theirs. They were the only friends he had, but they weren't really even that, were they? Some of them were looking at him even then, from across the street as they stood in line to get in and he stood staring at himself in a window.

His side ached, reminding him why he was trying to make his 'last's' stay that way. Last night was his last time at P&G, then. He walked back the way he had come, wondering if his fake friends were watching and whispering to each other. There were plenty of bars in what was known as the Gayborhood. Some appealed to certain types, like the Tanned the leather bar, or Katie's the lesbian joint. Daniel wondered what it said about his culture--if it could be called that--when every gay owned businesses seemed to be about drinking, partying, or selling fetish gear. That wasn't fair, he rebuked himself, there were plenty of other normal businesses in the gay community. Had he just used the word 'normal'? He was starting to sound like his dad. Low key, that's what he wanted.

Each bar he passed he paused at. Daniel wondered what kind of drinks each place made well, and what he'd order. Last drink, he reminded himself as he sat down on a bench. What the fuck was wrong with him? What kind of idiot goes out to a bar district the day after they quit drinking? The kind that never really meant to quit.

Maybe he passed his own test. He wanted to go out and not drink and he hadn't. He got up and sullenly trudged towards the bus stop. The Gayborhood bus stop wasn't as sketchy as many around the city, but it still smelled of diesel fuel, cigarettes, and that ever-present urine odor that the buses always had. He grumbled when he checked the time: the next bus wasn't for twenty minutes.

A light evening breeze carried a more pleasant smell to him from Zaire's, the unimposing brick café kitty-corner from where he sat. Couldn't hurt to go have a coffee while he waited. A colorful chalkboard outside displayed the specials and the free wi-fi. As soon as he opened the big wooden door Daniel felt his muzzle twist into a subtle scowl. There was easy listening music playing softly behind the subdued din of conversation rising from the dozens of tables. Those customers that weren't typing away on their high end laptops were clustered in their little circles dressed as though they'd just stepped out of a department store ad. Still, the delightful aroma of roasting beans was enough to keep him.

He ordered a vanilla latte from the plaid shirt wearing barista fox and looked around for a place to sit. There wasn't much available, just a counter facing the outside window with a few open stools. The otter took a seat next to a border collie who looked equally out of place in the café. Probably a little bit older than most of the folks down in the district, with a few grey furs poking around his black muzzle; something most of the guys down here would pluck out for sure. The dog acknowledged him with a nod before staring back into his half empty cup. Whiffs of alcohol came off the canine's breaths and mingled with those of coffee.

Daniel blew at the torrent of steam coming out of his drink and took a small sip. It was probably 'better' coffee than he was used to, but it tasted bland and boring compared to the sweet tooth satisfying stuff from that big green chain place that he liked. His eyes wandered over to the collie, who was still contemplating his cup silently and fidgeting with his paws in what Daniel had to admit was an adorable way. If he was at the club he'd say hi in an instant. Maybe this was a good chance.

"You uh, been at one of the clubs?" Daniel wished he could have sucked the words back in as soon as they came out. The dog was going to think that he was making a comment on the alcohol smell, which was true but he didn't mean it in a bad way.

The border collie looked up from his drink and over (and down) at the younger otter for a few moments that seemed to take forever. His soft blue eyes seemed filled with trouble and apprehension.

"Yeah, I was." The dog said before taking a big sip of his coffee and staring straight ahead at the window. Daniel could see those eyes looking over at him through the feint reflection a few times, darting them away when the canine thought he'd been spotted.

"Didn't find what you were looking for?" Daniel's follow-up question drew a heavy sigh from his counter-buddy. He had to tread carefully; this guy clearly had a lot on his mind. Why was he even bothering, anyway? "I'm Daniel, by the way."

"Jesse." Jesse turned his body partially towards the chatty otter, taking in the button up and glasses and well-groomed fur but once again looking away shyly once he realized what he was doing. "Uh, yeah. I didn't find what I was looking for, though."

"I don't think I ever did, either." Daniel was surprised at his burst of honesty with the stranger. Best to turn the focus back on the other guy before this became about him and his problems. "What were you looking for?"

Jesse flicked his tail, his ears flattening slightly. "I don't know. Maybe I was just looking for myself. Sorry," he looked away. "I'm not making sense." Jesse tensed up when Daniel rested a paw on the collie's shoulder, but he took a deep breath and relaxed again.

"Looking for yourself? I hear he's a hard bastard to find." Daniel had taken a risk in touching the guy, but the joke worked and they shared a smile. "Look, I'm not trying to come off like a creep."

"You're the first guy down here who hasn't." Jesse finished his drink and sat the empty cup down. "Ugh, was yours any better than mine?"

"No," Daniel laughed, then lowered his voice. "This place feels so fake."

"You got that right." The collie smirked, pointing at Daniel's nearly empty drink. The otter hadn't noticed how quickly he was downing it. "So, want another fake drink and some fake muffins? I'll buy."

"Sure! Surprise me with something random." Daniel watched the dog the entire time. Border collies could be such spazzes, and this guy seemed no different. His fluffy tail swished this way and that, while his ears couldn't seem to go more than twenty seconds without flicking. He felt a little rush of accomplishment when he realized he'd succeeded: he was out meeting someone, perhaps even flirting, without needing his alcohol fix.

Jesse returned with two cups topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a pair of blueberry muffins. "That fox up there gave me the dirtiest look when I asked for something sweet and Starbucks-like."

"Oooh, I bet."

They sampled their new concoctions at the same time and gave either other an approving nod. Daniel giggled at the lob of cream stuck in the collie's whiskers, and his mind went other places as the long canine tongue licked it off. They agreed that at least the muffins were decent, and Daniel asked what Jesse did for a living.

"I'm a programmer for a bank software company. Pretty boring stuff, really."

"No shit," the otter perked up. "I work at a bank. Second National."

"Hey, whaddya know. That's one of our accounts."

Daniel leaned in across the table, jutting a finger out. "So I got _you_to blame when the system goes down."

"Would have figured you liked going down." Bam. Jesse looked shocked that he'd actually just said that. The otter thought it was cute watching the canine fluster and try and come up with an apology. "I, uh-"

"Need only to ask." Daniel finished the other's sentence. Jesse gulped and looked around as if someone was going to be overhearing their conversation and actually care.

"I just never, you know, with a guy and all. Not since I was a teenager." He was practically whispering, ears red with embarrassment. "Been having urges."

Daniel finally understood. He had a closet case on his paws, and a bad one at that. Even just the brief mention of a blowjob had gotten the front of the collie's pants to change their shape. "So, what. You figured you'd swing by the Gayborhood, see what happens, and maybe find someone to experiment with?"

"I'm sorry, I should go. I'm sorry I wasted your time." Jesse adjusted himself and started to get up until he felt the otter's paw land on top of his own.

"Wait." Daniel fought for the right thing to say. He didn't want this guy to just walk out, even if he knew the dog had red flag written all over him. "You haven't wasted my time. I missed my bus three times over to sit here and talk. It's been real, ya know?"

Jesse nodded. "It has been." He paused, wheels turning in his head. "I'll give you a ride home. Unless you prefer the bus."

"Deal."

*

Jesse kept his paws on the wheel, gripping it harder than normal as he tried his best to look straight ahead at the road. What the hell had he gotten himself into? The club was a total fucking disaster, a sensory overload of music and noise. He tried to loosen up with a few drinks at the bar thinking maybe the strange surroundings would become more appealing--they didn't. He looked at the guys and didn't feel anything. It all felt fake to him; people trying so hard to look sexy. A few made passes on him but he wasn't interested in their obviously shallow wants.The only good part of the day had been the absence of some of his more severe withdrawal symptoms.

The coffee place was nicer. He watched the cars and people walk by on their way around the gay district, wondering how they managed to feel so at ease being what they were. That's when the otter sat next to him. Their conversation came natural, like they already knew each other. They actually had a conversation, and while it was suggestive it wasn't like the guys at the club. Daniel seemed different than those people. Unlike the people at the club, Jesse was aroused thinking about the otter; just when he had started to think that his little gay test or whatever had come up negative.

When he offered to take the otter home he knew what the implications could be. There was tension in the confines of his car. Their small talk had a nervous edge to it, and Jesse could pick up little whiffs of arousal from his passenger. They were both thinking about the same thing.

The apartment complex looked decent enough, and as the car pulled into a space Jesse felt a paw on his knee. It felt good, even just that simple touch. "Coming in?" the otter asked. "We don't have to _do_anything, you know. Can just watch some TV and talk more if you want."

The lack of pressure was enough for Jesse to cave in. Accepting an almost-stranger's invitation into their place felt so strange at the point in life he was at, but it also felt right. It was a cozy little one bedroom, with a worn out leather loveseat in the living room opposite a TV supported by a couple of milk cartons. The makeshift setup reminded the collie of college years, and he felt bad when he figured that otter probably hadn't gone. Maybe he got kicked out and left on his own like so many gay youth? That was a conversation for another time, perhaps.

"Seen that new 007 movie?" Daniel was browsing through his streaming app on his TV. "It's pretty good. I wasn't sure the new ones would be but they really grew on me, ya know?"

"I haven't. Totally down for it, though." Jesse grinned. He loved those movies, always used to watch them with his dad growing up.

"Cool, I'll go make some popcorn while the opening credits roll."

The collie settled into the surprisingly cozy couch and watched the modern take on the trademark gunshot down the barrel sequence and then the long opening intro; naturally containing plenty of sexualized images of ladies and guns. His ears aimed back towards the kitchen now and then to listen to the hum of the microwave, interspersed by the sounds of cooking popcorn. The smell from the kitchen was amazing when the microwave opened and soon the buttery, salty goodness was plopped down in a big bowl on the coffee table.

They munched on the popcorn as the movie went on; sitting forward during the heavy action, and propping back during the slower parts. Jesse felt something thick brush his tail and realized it was the otter's. He stiffened, almost pulled away, but he let it ride; enjoying the feeling of being close. A little later a jump scare got Daniel, and he found himself wrapping an arm around the otter.

During one of the casino scenes their muzzles drifted close and he felt the otter's lips brush his own. The warm, soft feeling lingered as they stayed still, not quite kissing but neither one wanting to separate. Jesse let one of his paws wander across the otter's thigh as their lips pressed together. Daniel's short muzzle felt foreign to him, but they made it work. Jesse, emboldened by desires that couldn't be ignored any further made short work of the otter's zipper. He liked the warmth that Daniel was generating down there, and let his fingers be drawn to it. He liked the cooing sounds he made even more as he rubbed and groped and explored the hot shaft in his paw.

Jesse gasped as Daniel reached over and returned the favor. The otter's paw felt so nice as it stroked up and down, and the otter's cock felt so natural in his own paw. The noise of the movie car chase faded to the background as he focused on the sound of Daniel's breathing, and the little noises he made. He watched the otter's muzzle crack open and whimper out while something warm and sticky coated his paw and a strong musky odor filled his nose. Jesse slowed down and eventually removed his messy paw from Daniel's spent cock.

Jesse expected Daniel to simply keep stroking him to a similar end, but the otter surprised him by falling to the floor. He felt Daniel's tongue on his shaft, and his hot breath felt magnified as it cascaded over the saliva. And then the otter went down on him. It felt wonderful. Daniel moved with expertise, using his tongue in ways Michele never came close to. He teased the knot just right, and knew just went to back off and when to intensify things. It didn't take long before the collie was gripping the sofa cushion and letting loose.

Regret seeped into Jesse's mind as post orgasmic bliss faded. He felt like he did after masturbating as a pup, when he thought Jesus was going to punish him or something like that. He'd just had sex with another man. After they cleaned up he didn't sit too close to the otter for the rest of the movie.

He had a lot to think about on his drive home.

*

The alarm clock came as a surprise. Jesse was pretty sure he hadn't actually gotten any sleep. How could he? What he'd done last night had been a mistake even if Michele had told him once before that he could mess around a little. An otter he'd never met made him feel better than his wife of fifteen years. Worse, he had a great time. None of it was worth the cost. So what if he was gay? He had a responsibility as a husband and a father, and if that meant denying himself what his body wanted then so be it.

He tried to watch the Sunday morning press shows, but his wedding photos on the wall near the television seemed to stare at him. Could they see the fantasies of his mind? How he thought about the cute, spectacled otter on and off all night? Could Michele see that where she found an impotent husband a stranger found a horny dog?

Breakfast tasted bad. Maybe a shower would help clear his mind.

Across town Daniel floated in his pool. He felt great in the morning for once. No hangover or sore body from a night of stupidity, just clear memories of a fanciful encounter. His eyes looked fresh and alive in the mirror when he brushed his teeth and the familiar ache in his side was absent for the day. He took the bus over to Zaire's for a crappy coffee and a muffin and sat in the same seat he had the night before. He just wanted to be in that place again.

Daniel knew you weren't supposed to call the next day right away, but the coffee shop felt empty without his new friend. Couldn't hurt to invite him over. The phone rang four times before he heard Jesse's voice, sounding just a little different on the phone.

"Hey..." Daniel didn't like that pause. Something was wrong.

"Hey, feeling okay? I went back to Zaire's, wondered if you wanted to join me."

There was nothing but the occasional crackle on the line for a few long seconds, and then a deep breath. "I can't."

No, no. Not this. He knew what was coming already but it couldn't; not after he kept his promise to himself about his 'last's'. "Jesse..."

"I'm married."

Daniel clutched the phone tight in his paw. "You do what you gotta do."

"Listen, I--"

Daniel turned his phone off and stuck it in his pocket. His eyes felt watery as he made his way down the street. At least Purr and Growl didn't have a line that early in the day. Joey, one of the bartenders greeted him with a hug, and Daniel ordered a whiskey on the rocks. One last time, he thought.

Jesse looked at himself in his bathroom mirror, eyes red with lack of sleep and a little bit of crying. His finger pressed the lower corner of the mirror and popped open the medicine cabinet.