“Dude, I can handle laundry." Marcy huffed into her phone. She scratched the bridge of her muzzle while pulling out a chair at the kitchen table to sit in.

Cousin Jack's voice came through the line, “I have every confidence in you, Marcy. But if I didn't mention it, I'd fret about it." There was a long pause with a few distant voices carrying on the call, and Marcy heard Jack sigh. He returned to the call with a bright, “I am so proud of you, Marceline. I really am. You've done so much better, and Carlo's is really very nice. I wouldn't have given you that key if I thought you couldn't handle the place the way I asked you to. I promise, it's just me being me. So, are we good?"

Marcy nodded, sliding her hand across the smooth stone tabletop. “Yeah. We're good. I'm trying not to be so defensive. But you're right. It's your place, and I'm recovering, and hey I forget to eat sometimes. I get it."

“You forget to eat?" Jack sounded stunned.

Marcy snickered, “Yeah, working in a restaurant sometimes I forget that I haven't sat down and actually eaten, just smelled food all day."

“Do you not get breaks?"

“Jack, you've never worked service before; especially after concerts or shows down theatre row, there's no time to slow down until maybe an hour before closing. And then, you know, we're closing." Marcy padded over to the fridge, “Hey how long ago did you buy these eggs?"

“Maybe a week," Jack hurried back to the previous topic, “That sounds awful. I could never work without eating, or a break for that matter."

Marcy slid the egg carton to the counter carefully, “It's not ideal, but it's what I've got for now. Maybe when I'm Head Chef someday."

“You should talk to some women's groups, see if you can get grants or scholarships for trade school." Jack sounded excited. “I'd love to see my big cousin in culinary school! Or, heck, running her own cafe!"

Marcy snickered again, rummaging through a free-standing pantry cabinet for supplies. “Give me a couple years, we'll see where I go."

“You should have a plan, Marcy," her cousin's voice admonished.

She set salt, pepper, butter, and a few other things on the counter. “I do have a plan. Save five grand, get into school, network, get hired in a mansion, profit."

There was a long pause again, and Marcy knew Jack was rubbing his temples. “Well, that is something." Jack said something to someone there with him that Marcy couldn't understand. “How is Bridget?"

“She-" Marcy dropped the pan she was lifting out of the cabinet onto the counter with a loud clang. She tensed her shoulders, turning toward the hall and listening intently for a good thirty seconds. She blew up her face to let her held breath out. “She's good. Sorry, dropped your little saucepan. She's waitressing at Carlo's, and she gets good tips. I think she came away with five hundred bucks last weekend. And, let's just say she's made excellent progress against her past."

“Wash those sheets twice," Jack growled.

“Don't be a prick!" Marcy snapped back, and then lowered her voice again. “I'll take care of it; you really have to understand how big of a step that is for her."

Jack sighed again, “You're right. I am sorry Marceline. I'm glad for her, for you both. I am."

Marcy felt her heart sting just a bit. “It's okay Jack. I get it. Hey, be glad your understanding is anecdotal and not, you know, real. And thank you. Again. I would literally be on some street right now if not for you. I am grateful."

Another brief pause from Jack. “Why did the hostel kick you out anyway?"

Marcy leaned against the counter and took a moment. He deserves to know. “One of the managers came onto me, and I refused him a little more violently than I meant to. He sprained a wrist in the ordeal… And I got removed the next morning."

“Marcy…"

She held up a hand he couldn't see. “It's fine. Nothing happened, I'm okay, and I made a report with the organization. What they do from here isn't my problem." There was a long, suffocating silence. Marcy had to force herself to breathe. “Look-" She raised a fist to slam the counter but at the last moment remembered her sleeping lover and flattened her palm to rest quietly on the granite. “Look," her voice shook, “I made it out. It's. It's fine."

“Marceline." She could tell Jack was breaking a little.

“It's okay. I swear."

He pulled the phone away from his head but she heard his snarl anyway.

“Jack, I'm okay. I'm not hurt. I'm safe because of you. Thank you."

“On my way soon," Jack called to someone at his event. “Is Bridget still in that place?"

“Not exactly. I snagged a bunch of her stuff yesterday morning to bring her here with me."

“Good." Jack was back to his normal voice, “You two stay in my unit, go get the rest of her things if you can. And we can talk about getting her out permanently when I get back. Since you're banned and such already."

“Go save some lives, Jacky boy. I love you."

“Love you too, cuz. Hey, at some point Gabriel is coming by to drop off a package I ordered and sent to his house because I didn't anticipate you being there. He has a key, he knows you're there, make sure Bridget knows he's coming, I know how she gets with men sometimes. And he's a big man."

“It still blows my mind you're dating a Clydesdale," Marcy teased.

Jack scoffed into the phone, “We're not dating. We're… something."

Marcy deadpanned, “You literally just said he has a key to your apartment."

“I knowww!" Jack's line became crowded with other voices. “I'm going in, we'll make fun of each other's alleged love lives later. Wash my bedding. Bye!"

“Suck eggs, bye!"

A pleasant piano melody played from the raccoon's phone speaker after the call ended. She tapped on the stove's touch screen to set the oven for 350. She searched the counter and shrugged, reaching back into the fridge for the canned biscuits she hadn't set out. She unrolled a stick of butter and thoroughly greased up a circular baking pan with it. She jumped and smiled when the biscuit can inevitably popped open as she peeled the label. She separated the pieces of dough and laid them in the pan, setting them near the sink.

Marcy danced with her hands over her head around the kitchen, her tail sweeping side to side around her legs. She shuffled through the fridge for a suitable breakfast vegetable and found a little box of cherry tomatoes. Perfect. She left them in the front since the biscuits would take a good 15 minutes to bake. She went to check on Bridget and found her still sprawled out with a pillow stuffed under her back. Marcy pattered back to the kitchen and slid the biscuit pan into the 345 degree oven. “Close enough," she shrugged while setting a timer for fifteen minutes. She tossed the stick of butter from before into the saucepan, set it on the front right burner, and flicked the knob to medium heat. She plucked the tupperware filled with flour from the pantry and a measuring cup she found near the dry goods.

A few minutes later, Marcy added some milk to the butter and stirred the mixture. The biscuits were starting to liven up the space with their warm bread scent. Once the pan was steaming again she added several taps of salt and pepper and two cups of flour. Marcy whisked the gravy mix together and let it cook. She cut another stick of butter at the two tablespoon mark and dropped that into a fresh frying pan on the left burner. Once that was melted, she pushed in the dozen or so cherry tomatoes she'd halved from a cutting board, carefully flipped them all cut-side down with a fork and checked the biscuits. Looking good. Marcy leaned against the sink to watch everything and occasionally glance toward the hall in case Bridget woke up before she was finished. The raccoon gave the gravy another whisking, and set it back on the burner to thicken just a little more, adding another pinch of pepper to taste.

Her phone vibrated to announce the end of fifteen minutes. Marcy opened the oven door to golden brown bread and removed the pan with a nearby hand towel. She skewered a tomato half and blew on it until the steam was gone. It was deliciously soft and sweet so she took the pan off and set it on the towel. The gravy was thick and savory, so she set it next to the biscuits. She set a whole biscuit on two plates and opened another in half for each, spooning the gravy over each. She put the spoon in her mouth to lick it and then spooned the tomatoes onto the plates with some of the butter as well. Marcy put away the unused ingredients and held two small cups in each elbow, milk in one hand, white grape juice bottle in the other, plates balanced with practice on her forearms.

She got everything down the hall and set it all on Jack's empty desk just inside the bedroom. Marcy climbed onto the bed and gently ran her hand back and forth across Bridget's stomach, lifting her pajamas to feel her skin. Marcy gently said, “Baby girl. Another surprise." Bridget stirred and started stretching her limbs. Marcy let her hand wander a little higher to cross Bridget's ribs and sternum, “Wakey wakey."

Bridget squirmed away from Marcy's hand with a giggle, rolling onto her stomach, “Mmm, no tickle." She turned her head toward her lover. “Mornin."

“Afternoon." Marcy leaned down and kissed Bridget's temple.

“It is not…" Bridget rubbed the bridge of her snout. “That smells great by the way."

“Thank you. Come on sleepy head," Marcy swatted Bridget's butt playfully. “Milk or juice?"

Bridget started untangling herself from the comforter. “What kind?"

“Two percent, normal people stuff."

The pig rolled her eyes dramatically as she sat up on the edge of the bed. “What kind of juice, lady." She yawned and stretched again, this time letting her limbs fall on Marcy to turn into a hug.

“White grape. My cousin's a square, for sure. What self-respecting lab clinician doesn't keep orange juice?" Marcy mocked, returning Bridget's hug from under her arms. They let one another go shortly. “Come on, your food will get cold."

Bridget looked past Marcy toward the plates on the desk. She pursed her lips and crossed the way to open and pour the juice into one of the cups. “Did you happen to snag my toothbrush and such?"

“Nope, no never. Tooth decay is in. Of course, it's in the duffel front zipper. Your cosmetics are in there too."

“Oooh, those aren't mine. They're Molly's. We were sharing because she only dolls up on Sundays." Bridget looked down into her plate and picked up both on one arm, holding the cups in her other hand. “Come on. You forgot silverware."

Marcy slapped her forehead, “Shit… Of course I did." She followed on her lover's heels. “I'll take that stuff back to her then. Well, actually…" Marcy skipped ahead of Bridget once she had room to do so as Bridget headed for the table with their food. “Why don't we just go get the rest of your stuff after brunch? And you can be there so I don't accidentally steal anything else."

Bridget set their plates down on the same side of the table, “What about you, babe? Milk or juice? And that sounds fine, but may I ask why?"

“Milk, please. Well…" Marcy slowly opened a few drawers before finding the utensils again and gathering a fork for each of them. “Because… I uhhh…" She sheepishly sat in the chair Bridget held out for her, laying a fork on Bridget's plate. “I got banned."

Bridget sat down, a shocked look on her face. “For what?"

Marcy began, “You know that manager, Brock? The blondie rabbit that we were joking about eating because his fur looks like ice cream?" Bridget nodded with a mouthful, her eyes lighting up for a moment. The raccoon continued, “Nine days ago, he asked me to help him take pictures of some of the empty units for listings, since they replaced some fixtures and whatnot. Seems normal enough, but then…"

“Marcy, this is great." Bridget shoveled in some more of her food and tried to talk around it, “Sorry. Go on."

The raccoon cut her biscuit into a few wedges with the fork and ate some food before continuing. “Right. Thank you, baby girl. Anyway! Brock and I take like three hundred pictures, and then I'm fluffing a pillow and I hear him take a picture of my ass."

“He didn't. Bastard."

“Just wait." They both had a few more bites each, Marcy downing half the glass of milk as well. “Ahh… So, I'm like, “ha ha, very funny delete that" and he says, “it's such a good shot. Maybe if I had one more." Bridget reached out to put her free hand on Marcy's shoulder, and the raccoon reached up and held it with her left. “So, I explain that the power difference between us is improper, trying to be rational about what's happening, and he grabs me in a side hug and takes another damn picture. So, I shoved him harder than I meant to. He fell and apparently sprained his wrist. He served me papers with two cops Monday. He acted apologetic, “oh I wish there was another way," type bullshit."

“That's so messed up! Did you make a complaint?" Bridget set her fork down on her empty plate.

Marcy put the last bit of biscuit in her mouth and threw up her free hand, letting go of Bridget's. “Shit!" she exclaimed after swallowing, “I forgot to make the eggs… Are you still hungry? And yes, I left a complaint on the website at the library before I went to work."

“Good… No thank you babe, I'm okay. I'm gonna have my cranberries though. Good for urinary health, you know." Bridget kissed the top of Marcy's head as she got up to fetch her leftover snack. “Are you okay, though?"

Marcy nodded, stabbing her cooked cherry tomatoes and chewing through them quickly. “I'm good. The more I think about it, the more I feel like I reacted the way I should have. I just… It's fucked up. It is." Marcy set her fork down with a clatter. “Even if his flirting was “normal," I can't imagine it that way any more. Joice took that away from me forever. If not for Jack, because of all that I'd be parked somewhere, probably getting a loitering ticket by now. I… Am I overreacting?"

Bridget crossed back to Marcy and offered her a hug. The raccoon stood up and buried herself in Bridget's chest, breaking down into silent tears and a jerking sob every so often. Bridget held her tightly by the shoulders, running one hand up and down her back. “I'm sorry," Marcy choked out. “I was making so much progress, and now this-"

“Shhhh…" Bridget's hand moved to hold the back of Marcy's head. “This is progress, too. This is you not keeping a painful secret, not keeping it all inside. It's okay to not be okay." Bridget kissed Marcy's forehead. “You can't control the way something makes you feel, only how you act and react. Yes, Brock's injury is unfortunate. But he should know and should understand the kinds of people who're coming through a survivor's charity hostel. It's like you said; our experiences took from us the chance to have normal lives. Sometimes forever." Bridget held Marcy as a few more sobs heaved from her. “You did nothing wrong. He'll live, and so will you babe. So will you."

Marcy took a deep breath and just stood there for a while, letting Bridget hold her. Some chatter outside and down the walkway caught her ear, causing her to lift her head so she could wipe her eyes. “Have you ever met a Clydesdale before? In person?" Marcy asked.

Bridget shook her head, “No, why?" She let Marcy go and started clearing their dishes, mostly out of habit.

“Jack's… friend, maybe boyfriend, Jack refuses to decide, is coming by with a package. He's a Clydesdale. His name is Gabriel, he's very sweet, but he's huge. Like, ducks through doorways huge. I thought it would be a day or two, but I definitely just heard him out there." Marcy walked over to the counter to splash some cold water on her face and dried off with a hand towel.

“You've met him before?" Bridget asked while placing the dishes into the sink.

Marcy nodded into the towel and then lowered it, her eyes only a little red in the corners. “Yeah, he's lovely. And has an accent."

“A sexy one?"

“If you think Scottish is sexy," Marcy moved to the bedroom with purpose. She tore into the drawers for a change of clothes, throwing on a t-shirt with sunglasses set on a little diorama of a beach and a pair of tight white denim shorts. She slipped some black no-show socks on and stepped into her shoes. “Are you going to change?" Marcy called into the hall.

Bridget appeared one second later, “Yes, of course." She had her toothbrush in hand, “I might be a few."

Marcy pulled the back of her shoe out straight and stretched, “You're good."

On cue the front door opened and a bright Scottish accent came down the hall, “Marceline! Are you here gal?"

Marcy smoothed down her shirt and walked out, “Hey there Gabriel! Nice package."

The six foot seven equine set down a long but almost flat cardboard box near the door and leaned it on a nearby decorative stand where Marcy left her keys. “Thank you. It's not mine but you knew that. How are you, girlie? It's been, what, ten months now?"

“Something like that. I'm doing alright, especially now that Jack's taking care of me. I was almost homeless, but that's a depressing mess, so let's not. How are things with you and him, hmmm?" Marcy gave a wry smirk as she dropped herself on the couch.

Gabriel sniffed the air and then took a long breath in, “Did you make biscuits in here?"

Marcy crossed her arms, “I did! Made breakfast for my special someone this morning. She'll be out in a bit. Now, you, Jack, spill."

Gabriel pushed his hands through the air dismissively. “Your cousin's not interested in commitment, that's the spill. I'm not bitter about it though. He's got to be ready and willing or we'll both just be miserable. I can be friends forever, unless someone comes along that completes me." Gabriel let himself fall onto the middle section of the couch and crossed his legs, his work jeans stained with all sorts of paint and dust. “If he comes round, grand. If not, I'll spend my time the way I want to: with him. Fer now."

Marcy found the reclining lever on her end of the couch and pulled it to lay back. “You've got the patience of a saint, Gabriel."

“What about you then?" The horse raised a brow, “Who's this special someone?"

“Her name is Bridget. She's a survivor like me, but from a different category. That's her story to tell though." Marcy folded her hands and launched into a played-up romantic voice, “She's my sweet southern woman all the way from Georgia. She's naive and starry-eyed, and she loves my cooking. Her kiss is honey and that smile is ambrosia."

“Sounds like a high pedestal to me," Gabriel teased, poking the raccoon's leg with the toe of his boot.

Marcy laughed and came back down to earth. “Really though, she's my rock. She's incredibly smart. She was super sheltered; Gabe, she didn't know what the internet was, just got a cell phone this year." Marcy snapped her fingers, remembering the perfect example, “She didn't know what music was. Buuut… She's picked up on everything within just an explanation or two from me."

“How did she not know what music was?" Gabriel raised a brow.

Marcy beckoned him over, and he leaned toward the raccoon who said in a low voice, “There was an expose on a converted campground, in southeast Georgia. Minstrels of the Line, digging to find the 'forgotten' grave of Christ. It was probably ten years ago now"

“No shite?!" Gabriel glanced toward the hall, “I had an acquaintance that almost joined up with them, back in carpentry school. Small old world. Scary, too."

Marcy nodded. They both heard the bathroom door close. “Shh, here she comes."

Bridget stepped out of the hallway in a calf-length red summer dress patterned with a half-dozen varieties of lily blossoms, her grey strapped sandals on her feet. She gave Gabriel a big smile and an enthusiastic wave from the wrist. “Well hello there! You must be Gabriel."

The horse put a hand to his chest, a smile fighting through his feigned offense, “Must I be? Why can't I be Cedric, or Matthias?"

Bridget stepped over to sit beside Marcy, putting herself in between the two friends. “I suppose you could be. For roughly fifty dollars. Or, you could just say you are." Bridget took Marcy's hand between their thighs. “My name is Bridget, Bridget Moore. It's a pleasure."

Gabriel laughed, slapping a bit of dust out of his jeans. “Pleased as peaches, Bridget. And yes, I am Gabriel. Or Gabe is fine, I'm not picky. Unless we're talkin' greens." Marcy blew a small laugh out of her closed lips.

“Oh?" Bridget raised a brow, “Spinach is the best greens."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes but kept up the smile, “No, no no. You've forgotten about Swiss chard."

Bridget narrowed her eyes in response but her expression cracked more than Gabriel's did. She looked at Marcy, who returned the look. Bridget quipped, “We could take him. You go high, I'll get his knees."

Marcy broke into laughing, Gabriel into quiet mirth that made his chest bounce off the couch.

Marcy wiped her eyes, “I would never. Besides, you're both wrong."

“Oh?" the two replied in unison, now locking their eyes on the raccoon's face.

“You keep your leaves to yourselves, I'll take green peppers, thank you very much."

Gabriel simply shook his head, coughing to stifle more laughter while Bridget tilted her head and said, “Babe those aren't greens…"

Marcy scratched the crown of Bridget's head with a soft, “I know, that's the joke." She let Gabriel compose himself before asking, “What do you have going today, big guy?"

He pushed some of his long, unkempt hair back behind his ears, “Going to help my mum with some chores, check in with the shop, and then probably go to the gym for some laps in the pool. Can't be looking shabby for the Parade."

Bridget ran her eyes over the horse's figure, unable to figure out which part of him was supposed to be “shabby." Marcy just nodded, “The city invite you to perform again this year?"

Gabriel sat forward with his elbows on his knees, “Aye. I'm first pick this year it seems. A bit nervous, if I'm honest."

Marcy caught notice of Bridget eyeing Gabriel and whispered into her ear, “Stop checking him out, I'll explain later." She offered Gabriel encouragement, “Hey, you did great in the back ranks. Just do that in front. Practice starts in, what, another month?"

The horse nodded again, “Yes, here in April. Are you going to come and see me?"

Marcy nodded, raising her and Bridget's clasped hands and bringing them down on her own thigh, “Of course I am. I'll see if I can convince this one to come along."

“Come along to what?" Bridget asked.

“To the Pride Parade! Bless Basalt, our gay little paradise," Gabriel held a hand over his heart and wiped away a pretend tear with the other.

Marcy could see Bridget's confusion and tapped their hands on her thigh again, “I'll explain later. Let's let Gabe get to his day, and let's you and I go retrieve your things. Sound good?"

Bridget nodded and stood up from the sectional, brushing down her dress for creases. Marcy retracted the reclining section with a surprisingly small click and joined Bridget. Gabriel dusted off the couch from his presence leaving a dusty buttprint in the leather. “Sorry about that. Use a dry cloth, some of it might be grout…"

“It's fine," the raccoon waved nonchalantly. “Thanks for the heads up. Gabe, don't be a stranger! I'll be more of a fixture, I imagine, now that I'm… looking for a better living situation."

Gabriel stepped over the square table with ease and opened his arms to offer a hug, “I'll do my best. Summer months, lots of business for us, you know."

Marcy jumped into the horse's hug, groaning as he squeezed her with his strong arms while he gave a groan of his own as she tried to squeeze his very strong abdomen in return. Marcy let go first and Gabriel set her on her feet with little effort. He offered Bridget a hand.

The pig scoffed and opened her arms for a second hug, “Gabriel: Georgia manners says hugs for friends. Come on now." The horse chuckled and nodded, opening his arms for her. Their embrace was gentler until Bridget felt him letting loose and picked him up by the waist for a moment.

Gabriel chortled, “Woah there, that's a good grip!" He patted her shoulder as she beamed, “You need a job? Ever done any building?"

“As a matter of fact," Bridget patted his side in return, “I helped the repair crews with our homes back… back then. Sorry, don't like talking about that. But, yes. Roofing, framing, windows and sealing. I've done a bit and then some."

“Well that's grand! If you get tired of tips and tables, you come see ol' Gabriel and his partner Brandon. We need a good window person, actually. Right now we're trading off on those jobs. Thirty an hour, too." Gabriel offered another handshake out of habit when talking business.

Bridget took it and matched the horse's grip, “You just might hear from me."

Marcy had collected her phone and keys from their spots around the living space. “I didn't know you did construction."

“You didn't ask," Bridget winked and curled an arm over Marcy's shoulders, kissing her temple. “Ready?"

“Yes ma'am. Alright Gabe, we're out. Come by for dinner, I'll cook some of Jack's food for you."

“Twist my arm. I'll bring whatever dessert mum shoves in my hands." Gabriel held the door for everyone, clicking off the globe light as he followed the girls out. “Oh! There's also openings at the post office, Marcy. If you don't have something solid, I wasn't sure."

“I'm cooking, no tips for me. And I just got a dollar raise. Well, the whole back of house did, but still." Marcy stood between her lover and friend, taking both of their hands in each of hers. “It's nice today, perfect breeze."

Bridget took a deep breath of fresh air, “I'm with Gabriel, swimming sounds lovely today."

Gabriel added, “It's easy on the joints, too!"

Bridget jostled her stomach with her free hand, “Gabriel, do I look like the work-out type to you?"

“No, no…" Gabriel looked down and then where he was going, turning into the hallway holding the stairwell, “You look like the food and field games type. Cornhole and lawn darts, feet in the kiddie pool once they're done with it, and a firefly evening with an uncle who knows a little guitar. I'll be the first to admit that the way I take care of myself is not the only way to do it. Besides," he tapped his free hand on the railing a few times, “you lifted my one-oh-eight kilos, there's plenty of strength in you, Bridget."

Bridget laughed lightly, “Maybe not an uncle, but I could see something like that. And thank you for the compliment, Gabriel."

The trio reached the ground level and Gabriel let go of Marcy's hand, heading to the other end of the hallway, “I'm on this side. You two have a nice day with this fine weather!"

“We will! See you tonight, yeah?" Marcy extended her invitation again. “Let's say six thirty for now, and if we'll be longer I'll call you. Two two seven nine, right?"

“That's the one. I'll be around, then. Bridget. Lovely meeting you, and I'm serious; windows, thirty per hour." Gabe waved and turned around to walk to his vehicle.

“Same at you!" Bridget called, “And I am sorely tempted, rest assured!"

“I could see you doing construction," Marcy teased, kissing Bridget's chin. “My sexy working girl, come home all sweaty and tired, and oooh what's that, a three-course dinner and then a sponge bath from her little lover girl."

Bridget flexed her free arm and then tousled Marcy's short hair playfully, “You be careful what you wish for, babe. Thirty is great money. Especially here." Bridget turned her chin down in thought as they reached Marcy's truck and separated hands to climb in. Marcy stuck her key in and turned it over, starting the thing with just a little protest. “You really think I could do it? I imagine it's mostly men who work with him…"

“Even if that's true," Marcy put her truck in gear and backed out easily, most of the lot empty, “yes, I do think you could. I know he's the only Clydesdale in his shop, his partner is a beaver and I know both of the plumbers are women. I haven't seen him in almost a year though, so they've probably expanded a bit since then." Marcy steered the truck into traffic easily, going back the way they came the previous night. “If you want to do it, do it. I'll support you. Just give Gary your two weeks so that if it doesn't work out, for some reason, you can come back to Carlo's."

Bridget looked down into her lap, pressing her fingers together in thought. Marcy swiped her phone screen to get her music playing softly from the speakers. She reached over and put her hand on one of Bridget's.

“Hey," Marcy added, shaking Bridget's hand against her lap. “You can talk to him tonight. Find out more, and decide if you really want to get involved. I'm in your corner, baby girl. Or, you can say no. To me, to Gabe, to anyone. Don't forget that."

Bridget brought their hand up so she could kiss the back of Marcy's. “Thank you Marcy. I'll talk to him tonight, find out more of what to expect before I make a decision."

“Good plan. And Jack says, "you should have a plan." Marcy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the song. “I talked to Jack this morning. I told him about what happened, me getting banned and all. He says he wants to help both of us find a place to be that isn't the hostel. What do you think about that?"

Bridget nodded once, “I guess that's alright. I could do with a change of scenery."

Marcy adjusted herself in her seat. “I did some light searching for rentals… But before either of us gets too excited, let me ask you this: do you want to spend these next two weeks as a kind of trial run? Of living with me."

“You mean, like, proper moving in with you?" Bridget looked over at Marcy, who kept her eyes on the road deliberately.

“Yes."

Bridget lowered her head in thought for a long time. The raccoon felt herself unconsciously glance over a few times. Bridget stretched her arms out against the dashboard and yawned. “Muh… I don't have any arguments against doing that."

The raccoon gripped her steering wheel tightly with both hands to keep her giddy energy to herself. She watched the traffic move intently for a few minutes, sorting through the emotions in her head. She was thrilled at the idea of coming home to Bridget, nervous about her anxiety-borne memory issues making Bridget like her less, and had a pit in her stomach about having someone, anyone else in her home again. Marcy rubbed where the sensation would be with her right hand. It's Bridget though. She wouldn't do those things to me. She won't. This is different. This is new. Marcy took a long, deliberate breath to steady herself. She flicked her turn signal and made a right turn toward the downtown hostel.

“Would we have to buy furniture?"

Bridget's question snapped Marcy back to awareness. “Oh… No, baby girl. We can find something that's pre-furnished. We don't have to buy that stuff." Marcy paused as she came to a red light. “Did you want to?"

“Well…" Bridget rocked sideways in her seat, “We could. I could."

Marcy raised a brow.

Bridget huffed, crossed her arms, and lowered her head in thought for a moment. She threw her head back against the seat and flatly stated, “I've got a lot of money… Long story very short, the ex-leader of that damned cult made trust funds for all of the kids that… All the younguns he… you know. Had plans for. And, since the accounts had our names on them proper and legal like, and he was in prison, his estate manager contacted us as we turned eighteen and released them to us." Bridget sheepishly looked over at Marcy, who nodded once slowly. “I've already invested some. The estate woman helped me with all that. But, there's still a lot left and I didn't want to spend it on dumb stuff, but… Furniture for a happy home seems like a fine thing to buy."

The raccoon mouthed to herself, “Did I just get a sugar momma?"

“What?" Bridget insisted.

“Nothing." Marcy concentrated on the road for a minute before asking, “How much is left? I'm not great with money, but if you have an advisor maybe we, err you, can talk to them about a budget?"

Bridget relaxed her body and offered Marcy a hand to hold. “It's a lot. You can say we. If we're moving in together, I imagine we'll finance together. That's what long-term couples do, isn't it?"

“Most of the time." Marcy glanced over to see the offered hand and took it, squeezing lovingly. “You were working Carlo's to help yourself recover, weren't you?"

Bridget nodded, “Mostly that. I also took a shine to Gary. He's what I'd want my dad to be. Only shorter than me."

“That's beautiful. In any case, if you want to buy furniture, we can. Most places will deliver and move that stuff in for you." Marcy leaned out her window to punch in the pin code to the hostel gate. The black iron clacked out of the way of the truck a moment later. “You brought Molly's stuff, yeah?"

Bridget reached into the floorboard and brought up the Crown Royal bag filled with cosmetics, “I did."

“Mmmmm-kay. Let's go get your things. Also, do you want to check out? Or not." Marcy leaned over to Bridget with her head upside down after parking near the outer gate. “Just in case living with me drives you crazy."

Bridget grabbed Marcy's cheeks in her hands and kissed her lips. The pig slid her hands down to the raccoon's clavicles and tapped Marcy's chest with her fingertips. “You already drive me crazy," Bridget breathed, remaining eye-to-eye with her lover. “In the best way possible." Bridget kissed her again, licking her lips teasingly with the tip of her tongue. “I'm checking out either way. I think it's time. I've been here six years."

Marcy turned her truck off and stuffed her phone into her back pocket as she stepped down from her seat. She jogged over to Bridget to take her hand-in-hand for the walk to the building. The mismatched yellow, brown, and red bricks of the place didn't even have a satisfying pattern. Marcy hated looking at them. There were aluminum letters on the face of the place that simply said “hostel," a nondescript sign meant to keep angry abusers and others from finding the people that were supposed to be kept safe within.

Just inside the heavy main door there was a curly-haired canine sitting in the security booth. She had short, coal black fur and soft, moon yellow eyes. Bridget stepped over to present her tennant badge and sign the entry log. “Hello Miss Whitman. How did your son do on his test?"

Miss Whitman looked up from a book she was reading. “Good day Miss Moore, Miss Alred. He did just fine, he leaves for the navy in October, God bless him."

“Nice to see you, Amethyst. They tell you about my crime?" Marcy waved from just behind Bridget.

“Yes… Girl, that man needs a reality check." She huffed and closed her book on a bookmark, “Y'all go on in. I never saw you."

“Will you get a check out package for me, ma'am?" Bridget asked, poking the chained pen into its little holder. Bridget smiled. “I've… found some greener pastures."

Amethyst looked between the pair with her eyes as a grin formed on her lips. “Oooooh, girls being girls. Yes I will do that for you. Y'all here to get your effects?"

Marcy nodded, “Yes ma'am. Thank you for everything."

“Thank you for being success stories. And, of course, congrats on your success!" The canine started gathering papers from a two-drawer filing cabinet near her desk. “Y'all leave me your numbers, we'll have coffee about it sometime."

“Sure, toss me a sticky note," Marcy offered. The canine slid her a stack of purple squares and a floral pen that wrote in glittery gold ink. Marcy wrote down her phone number diagonally and slid both back under the plexiglass. “There we are."

“Alright, y'all behave and I hope I will see you sometime soon."

The two waved and headed for the halls of doors to rooms. Bridget led the way, one arm behind her that Marcy held the hand of. The halls were quiet save for the buzzing of a few of the overhead light fixtures. The stillness was preferable to the anguish that sometimes echoed there. Marcy felt her shoulders tense. It wasn't long before Bridget stopped in front of her shared dorm. The door was propped open with a flip flop.

Bridget pushed the door and called into the room, “Molly?"

“Yessum?" came a reply from the bed in the far corner. On top of the bedding lay a chubby rat girl wearing a flowery bra and white panties with one sock on her left foot. She had half a pink tail left with a scarred knurl on its end. She smiled when she saw Bridget and rolled herself off the bed to cross the room for a hug. “Whatcha doing today, Babs? I thought you were at work."

Bridget hugged her back gently and deposited the Crown bag of make-up into her hands, “I accidentally borrowed this and had to come return it. Marcy and I are leaving, Molly. Leaving the hostel."

“Whaaat?! Why Babs, are you sick of me?" Molly pouted her lips with a sad little quiver, “Am I too smelly?"

Bridget giggled and hugged the rat again, “No sissy, no. We're just too old and have to be getting back to adult life. You're beautiful, it's got nothing to do with you, hon."

Molly laughed and scratched under a bra strap, “I get you. Marcy-May, I love those shorts."

“Thank you," Marcy turned herself this way and that to show them off. “Did you ever get in contact with your big brother?"

The young girl nodded enthusiastically, “I did, I did! He's gonna take me to Cali after school lets out. He says if I graduate with all A's he'll buy me a little sports car."

Bridget gingerly fixed a bit of Molly's dark hair behind her ears after her nodding, “That's very generous of him. What's he do to afford that?"

“I dunno," Molly shrugged. “But all his profile pictures are him in a suit so he's some kinda big shot, I think."

Bridget walked over to her side of the dorm and opened up the drawers. She grabbed a well-worn backpack hanging from the foot of her bed and started lowering her socks and underwear into it. “Well, what's his name, sissy? Your big brother."

“Andrew Horace Haller. That's what daddy always used to yell at him for stealing his beers." Molly pinched a pimple on her shoulder and winced. “I don't know why Andrew took those beers. They don't taste any good."

Marcy guided Molly to sit on her bed and snagged a tissue from the bedside stand to carefully clean the popped blemish. “Beer is something you have to learn to like, Molly girl. But, if you never like it that's okay too. It's not for everybody." Satisfied, Marcy wadded up and tossed the tissue into a small wastebasket. Molly turned Marcy's shoulders away from her and started running her fingers through the raccoon's short hair slowly. Marcy gave no protest.

“Will you come visit me, Babs? If my next roomie is awful, I have to tell you about it. Okay?"

Bridget stopped mid-movement of putting a stack of shirts into the backpack. She lowered them in carefully and crossed the room to sit on the bed with her. “Yes I will. I'll come see you on Sundays when you're all prettied up, okay?"

The rat girl nodded and wiggled as she got back to stroking Marcy's hair. Bridget smiled and walked over to finish collecting her jeans, two pairs of work slacks, and her beanies. “Marcy-May, how is your hair so soft? Mine is like wires and sand. I'm jealous and a half of you."

Marcy stifled a giggle to turn around and shift Molly's shoulders as she did Marcy's, “Let's have a feel. Maybe I can help. Give you some advice at least." The rat girl giggled and turned around, hitching up her underwear in the process. Marcy ran her fingers through the girl's dark, thin hair. “Aww, it is not wire and sand. It's just a little oily, girl. When did you wash it last?"

“I dunno. When was movie night?"

Marcy looked at Bridget. Bridget tilted her head and then answered, “That was two weeks ago, sissy. Surely you've had a bath since then…"

Molly shook her head, “No. I'm out of stuff, and no one came by to take lists this week."

“What? That's very weird…" Marcy ran her fingers carefully through the girl's hair. There were knots under the surface. Marcy carefully extracted her hand and whispered to herself, “Oh damn…"

Marcy and Bridget looked at each other again. Bridget zipped up the main part of the backpack, her clothes packed away. “Christina didn't come by, sissy?"

The rat girl shook her head again, “Nope. I never saw her. But I have to go to school too. But look look," Molly jumped up and opened the little drop box outside the door for notices and mail and pinched out her list of requested items. “See? No one took mine."

Marcy bent over to read the list. It's pretty standard. “Did you tell any of the front desk people, Molly?"

“No," the rat girl sighed, “They don't like me. They say I'm stupid."

“Sissy…" Bridget took the list gently. “Come on. Put some clothes on. I'll go with you."

Molly pointed at a tied-off laundry bag. “I can't open it. You always open it Babs."

Marcy felt a pang in her heart for the girl. Bridget knelt down by the bag and beckoned Molly over. “Well come here and I'll teach you so you can open it. It's not hard, I promise."

Molly sat on the ground next to Bridget and watched expectantly. The pig took the cinched strings in her hands and pinched the end curled over the bag's neck itself. “Just do like this and then roll the string out of itself. You try."

Molly pinched the wrong side at first, looked at Bridget's hands and changed to the correct side of the drawstring. It took her several pulls to loosen the cinch but she got it and started giggling, “Hey it's not hard!"

“I told you! Good job, sissy. Now," Bridget smushed the rat's cheeks with her fingers, “get dressed. Let's get you your stuff, okay?"

Molly upended the laundry bag, spilling her clothes into a pile right there on the floor. She rummaged through them until she found a green sports bra which she exchanged with the one she wore, a shiny purple spandex t-shirt, and a pair of ribbed patterned jeans.

“Okay sissy, let's go talk to Miss Whitman. She's lovely, and she will help us get your things." Bridget handed her backpack to Marcy. “The rest of my things are just that one shelf of papers and anything on the left side of the bathroom. Everything else is hers. Yeah?"

“You didn't have any books or anything in six years?.." Marcy looked at Bridget sadly.

The pig shrugged, “I spent a lot of time at the library. Or at the academy getting my GED. When I'm not at work… Now that I think about it, I haven't slowed down since I got out. It might be time for a vacation."

“Momma took us to Virginia Beach the last summer vacation before she met daddy." Molly took hold of Bridget's hand as she joined the rat girl near the door.

“I thought you were scared of the water, sissy," Bridget recalled, leading the young girl down the hall.

Marcy couldn't make out Molly's reply between the wall and the echo effect of the building. She set to work gathering the few things in the bathroom. A bag of flosser picks, a half-empty box of pads, a box of razor refills and the handle they went to, and a small novelty jewelry box filled with bracelets. She gathered up the papers and a pair of manilla folders from the shelf Bridget had indicated and carefully slid them into the section of the backpack that should have held a laptop or tablet. There really wasn't anything else on Bridget's desk or her side of the room.

Marcy slid the flip flop inside the door and let it close. She shouldered the bag and headed for the front desk.

. . .

Bridget swung her arm with Molly attached to it as the girl hopped about the place. The front lobby had two other women signing into the hostel that Bridget didn't recognize: a tired-looking bearded dragon woman and a feline who had white fur with caramel stripes. Molly tugged on Bridget's dress and Bridget bent over instinctively for the girl.

“That's Anaise, the cat girl," Molly whispered. “She lets me finish her ice cream sometimes. I like her. I hope she can come to our room after you go."

Bridget smiled lightly and stood up to walk over and wait in line. Anaise turned around and smiled at Molly. “Aww, it's little sister." The cat stroked the rat girl's cheek lovingly. “And who have we here?" Anaise offered her hand to Bridget.

“I'm Bridget, Molly's roomie. Soon to be former, I've been moving up in the world. Nice to meet you," Bridget shook the cat's hand gently.

Anaise put her hand to her mouth after finishing the shake, “Oh my stars, are you the girl from Georgia?"

Bridget nodded, her smile turning down some. “That's me…"

“I'm so sorry Bridget, for bringing that up. My name is Anaise," she held her hands to her chest and bowed forward in embarrassment, “I just got here last week. There were six of us intercepted from a trafficking ring over in Washburn. They…" Anaise lowered her voice, “They were shipping us off to Russia. Can you believe?"

Bridget nodded again. “I can. I'm glad you're safe. Sissy tells me you share ice cream with her."

Anaise nodded, bending down to nuzzle the top of Molly's head. “She reminds me so much of my niece. She's a lovely young lady, and so sweet."

“Well," Bridget offered, “her room is going to be open soon. You could make a request."

Anaise hugged Molly's shoulders as the girl wrapped her arms around the cat's midsection. “I would love to. But I won't be here long. My family is coming down at the end of the month to retrieve me. I'm very lucky. My scenario was just an interview that was fronting for, well, them." Molly looked at the floor. “But, but," Anaise renewed her hugging, “I will be with you while I am here, and we will watch movies and be sisters, like I said before. Yes?" Molly giggled and held onto Anaise while she signed in. “Hello Miss Whitman. Sorry to hold up the line again. I am the chattiest cat, I know."

Amethyst laughed and waved a hand, “Don't worry sweetheart, at least you're cheery and nice. I'll take that any day. What's going on, Molly gal? Saying goodbye to Babs?"

“Actually," Bridget interjected, “I'm here to advocate: Molly's hygiene list did not get taken and she is out of bath supplies."

“What?!" Amethyst sprang out of her chair and stormed out of the little office. “Lemme have that Bridget, and thank you." The Rottweiler took hold of the list and scanned it quickly. “Molly when did you make this list, honey?"

“On movie night after the movie was over."

“Oh Hell no!" Amethyst knelt down and patted Molly's head gently. “We'll get you taken care of, sweet girl." She stood up again, “Thank you Bridget. I'll make sure this does not happen again. We have a new runner crew and this is the fourth time, in their first month, they've been just absolutely incompetent. We bout to have another new runner crew, I think." She took a deep breath and let it out with a harsh huff.

Anaise leaned over and discretely sniffed Molly's hair. “Why don't you come to my room, little sister. I have plenty of shower stuff, you come down and wash up, okay? And we'll go get some dinner." Anaise looked at Amethyst and lowly asked, “I can take her out, can't I? If I sign for us both?"

“Yes ma'am, you sure can." Amethyst was furiously typing into her cellphone.

“Good. Yes, let's go get you cleaned up and then we'll go to dinner. Okay?"

Molly jumped around while holding onto Anaise's arm, “Yeah, yeah!"

Bridget smiled and offered Anaise a side-hug. The cat accepted as best she could with her energetic charge. “Thank you Anaise. You're wonderful, you know that?"

“She deserves so much better." The cat took hold Molly's shoulders calmly to reign her in a bit. “If I leave her with nothing else, it will be that."

Bridget nodded and offered Molly one more hug. The rat girl hesitated as if she knew it would be one of the last she ever got. “I'm gonna miss you, sissy. I'll be here on Sundays. I promise."

Molly hugged Bridget tighter than she ever had. Bridget made sure Molly was the one to let go first. She felt a hand on her shoulder immediately afterward. There stood Marcy with the bag on her back. “All good?"

Molly reached up and held Anaise's hand and waved at Marcy and Bridget with the other. Marcy took Bridget's hand in turn and smiled to the cat. “I don't think we've met. I'm Marcy."

“We have not." Anaise bowed her head briefly, “Hello Marcy, my name is Anaise. Please excuse me, this young lady needs a proper bath and I'm going to take her to my room to have one. Nice to meet you, hopefully we can chat more when things calm down."

“Sure. Thank you for being kind to her." The cat nodded as she led Molly down the hallway again. “Do you want to make sure I got everything, baby girl?"

“Oh my God, you two are adorable. How long has this been a thing?" Amethyst gestured between the pair with wiggling fingers.

“We've been inseparable for three months now," Bridget cooed. “Bathroom counter, document shelf, clothes. That's it. You got the other two, right?"

Marcy reached behind her and patted the backpack. “I do believe so. The little jewelry box is yours, right?"

Bridget snickered and patted Marcy's arm, “Yes, that is mine. We're good to go."

“I'll miss you two! But good for y'all, and best wishes for this wonderful thing you found. Flowers in adversity, they say." Amethyst held out her arms and both lovers stepped into the hug, each wrapping an arm around the canine's waist. “I'll call you, Marcy, and we'll get that coffee. Ahh! Y'all go on before I spend all day like this." She let the pair go and trotted back into her office, sitting down with a breath. “Okay. Where was I?"

Marcy snickered with a smile, “Bye Miss Amethyst. Coffee, I'll be waiting. Come along daaaarrrrling." The raccoon held Bridget's hand aloft as she made her way toward the door.

Bridget rolled her eyes and watched Anaise and Molly disappear into the hallway. She jogged over to the heavy door Marcy was holding for her and took hold of it as they stepped into the sun again. “So what's the plan?"

Marcy looked up toward the power lines in thought. “It is a great day. Do you want to see my favorite outdoor place? It has water and shade, if that sways your thoughts on the matter."

Bridget came to a stop by the passenger door of Marcy's truck. “That sounds lovely. We should go get clothes to go swimming in."

“Sure." Marcy unlocked the truck and climbed in, Bridget doing the same after fitting her bag snugly into the back of the cab. “When are you working tomorrow?"

Bridget bounced into her seat and pulled her seat belt around her body. “Four to close. Why?"

“Just checking, deciding how long we can stay out and if I should bring a beer or not." Marcy started the truck and turned her head to back out.

“Marcy."

“Bridget." The raccoon looked at her passenger since she was still waiting for an opening to pull out of the parking lot.

“Why do you drink beer?" The question was earnest, almost childlike.

Marcy reached out a hand and Bridget took it gently. “Because I like to. The seniors snuck beers into the boarding school all the time, so I got past the taste early." She looked back to the road ahead and guided the truck into traffic smoothly. “I drink because I like the way it makes my head feel. Alcohol gives you a kind of swimming feeling if you don't overdo it. It's nice."

“Have you ever overdone it?"

The raccoon glanced at her lover, who had genuine concern on her face. “Twice." She looked back to the passing traffic, “I had a little too much on graduation night. Thankfully I had good friends who looked after me instead of doing something despicable. The second time, I think I was twenty-three? Some friends brought real Russian vodka to a get together and we all slammed twelve ounce glasses each and then also took shots after. One of the guys there suggested that when one of us three girls passed out they have their way with her, and got his ass kicked. The other guys threw him out and us girls decided to give the heroes blowjobs for their efforts. My roommate at the time spent the night with the guy who's apartment it was. I took an Uber home and woke up my neighbor in my stupor. Tried to throw myself at him, apparently. Good dude: he declined because I was wasted, let me crash on his couch in case I needed help, and we went to breakfast the next day. His name was Ivan. We tried a few dates, didn't work out. Last I recall he went up north to New York for work."

Marcy stopped at a red light and glanced at Bridget. Her expression was all concern. “To be fair, that was eight years ago. I haven't had more than two shots in an evening since, if I ever take shots at all. I am confident that I haven't been legally intoxicated since. Well… No, I'm sure."

“So… It makes your head swim. Is it the same as… sex is?" Bridget stroked Marcy's hand with her thumb.

The raccoon shook her head, following the traffic away from the light. “No. Heady sex is warm and- uhh… What's the word… I want to say greedy but that feels wrong. Greedy but not negative. Anyway, that feeling from sex makes you want more, until you don't. Whereas beer, if you're not alcoholic, is cold and tingly inside the skull. As I would describe it, anyway."

“Is it easy to get addicted?"

Marcy raised a brow, “Are you worried about me, or you?"

Bridget sat back against her seat and was quiet for a moment. “Both? Everyone, kinda. It's always been something that people are quick to warn me about. “Don't start drinking, you'll never stop."

Marcy squeezed Bridget's hand lovingly. “They're not wrong. It can be addictive. But here's the thing Bridget: we're adults. We get to make that choice. For all the times I have drank alcohol, I've never said to myself or anyone else, “Man I need a drink." Or, “I could use a drink." I've always been able to stop, barring those two times I mentioned." Marcy smiled, “Here's the test, okay? If I, or anyone else, drinks enough that they can't function without booze in their system, or thinks that they have to drink to be “themselves" or something, that's when they have a real problem. Have you ever seen me stumbling into work, looking trashy, or smelled alcohol on my breath when I'm with you?"

“Yes, babe."

“Okay," Marcy snickered, “right after I finished a beer when we're leaving a barbeque joint doesn't count. I mean like, you could definitively tell that I had been drinking long after the fact."

Bridget shrugged, “I don't think so."

Marcy nodded, satisfied, “That's because I don't drink like that. I have a beer with friends, or one on my off days when I'm definitely not going anywhere."

“Well," Bridget protested, “if we're gooo-ing to your favorite spot, then you shouldn't have one, right?"

Marcy opened her mouth to argue back but caught herself. The raccoon pursed her lips and admitted defeat, “You're right. That's fair." She changed the subject as she took the turn toward the apartments. “Okay, so Jack has some stuff in his fridge and pantry; what do you feel like for dinner?"

“Hmm," Bridget put her free hand to her chin. “He's got an instant pot. How long does it take to make soup?"

“Ooohhh, that's a good plan. Depends on the soup, but I have one that will be ready when we get back for sure." Marcy put both hands on the wheel to guide the truck through the apartment lot. She parked in the same spot she'd gotten last night. “Mkay, let's go get ready."

Bridget retrieved and shouldered her backpack once she was out of the truck and the two walked up to the door without incident.

“Hey…"

Marcy turned to Bridget, key between her fingers.

The pig pushed her fingers against one another the way she did when she was nervous, “I wasn't trying to be the no fun girl."

Marcy stepped over and kissed her lover's lips gently. “I don't see it that way at all, baby girl. You care so much, and you just want us to be safe and happy. The things you've heard make you cautious about alcohol, and that's not a bad thing. I'm not upset and our little day trip will still be fun. Without beer. You did nothing wrong."

Bridget wrapped her arms around Marcy for a hug, “Okay. Thank you for listening to me."

Marcy twisted the key and took hold of Bridget's fidgeting hands, holding the door open with a hip. She stepped backward into the apartment enough so the door could close, holding Bridget's fingers interlaced with her own. She pushed their arms down to bring them together so she could touch her lips to her lover's. Bridget closed her eyes and squeezed their fingers a little more. The raccoon started them swaying together, lowering her head to Bridget's shoulder. The pig nuzzled and kissed Marcy's cheek and jawline, freeing one of her hands to cup Marcy's face after.

Marcy smiled and snickered out her nose, which Bridget felt on her chest. “Nice view," Marcy cooed.

Bridget put the hand from Marcy's cheek down to cover the cleavage visible from the neck of her dress. She felt like stepping away, and her calf lifted to do so. But she stopped herself and took a breath. She lowered her hand to find Marcy's free one and placed it on her sternum, fingers just barely on the topmost bit of her bust. Marcy could feel the fast beating of Bridget's heart. She just held her hand there, flexing her fingers into the flesh to acknowledge Bridget's effort.

“I want you…" Bridget murmured with her eyes just barely open.

Marcy raised a brow with a smile, “You do baby girl?"

Bridget fought between nodding and shaking her head, making an awkward, herky circle instead. “I want you t- to touch me. Just… If you want to. If you like to."

Marcy took her hand down to take hold of Bridget's again and slowly walked backward toward the couch. “Something on your mind, Bridget?"

Bridget sat down on the section nearest the door and closed her eyes again as Marcy sat beside, facing her. “I… I don't have to hide my body from you. I don't want to hide from you. But I still can't help it sometimes."

Marcy listened and ran her fingers up and down Bridget's arm, “I will meet you wherever you are comfortable, baby girl. That's how a relationship is supposed to work."

Bridget sighed, “Babe, I want you to push me sometimes, too." She held Marcy's hand again and put it on the bottom curve of her bust. “You asked me to stay with you, saying part of that is to help you heal…" Marcy nodded, dragging her legs under her on the couch so she was sitting on her calves. Bridget continued, “Help me heal by showing me I don't have to be scared when someone reaches out to me. Even intimately. Especially intimately." Bridget looked directly into Marcy's eyes. “Especially you…"

Marcy cupped the bottom of the other breast in her other hand, both hands on her lover's chest. “Why me?" she asked in a love-drunk tone.

Bridget bowed her body so that her tits rolled more into Marcy's hands. “Because I got to choose you."

Marcy closed the distance between their faces and locked her lips to Bridget's, her tongue sliding against Bridget's and her hands taking a firm, rolling grasp of the pig's bust. Bridget melted into her lover and moaned in her throat, sliding her hands down the back of Marcy's shorts and squeezing her cheeks in encouragement.

Bridget's breathing heaved her body as Marcy groped her. Bridget broke the kiss with a, “Mmmah… Ju- just make sure…" Marcy kissed into her lips again, interrupting, but Bridget giggled and turned her head a bit. “M- make sure…" Marcy greedily started another kiss, and Bridget gave in for a moment, sucking on the raccoon's tongue as she delved inside Bridget's mouth. Bridget raised her hands to Marcy's back and neck to try and control her as she broke the kiss again. She held her mouth near Marcy's ear to murmur, “If we're alone, I'm yours." Marcy pinched Bridget's nipples and a moaning gasp tore from the pig's throat. Marcy bit into her neck lustfully and slid one hand from her tits down to her thigh.

Bridget parted her legs just enough for Marcy's fingers to slide along and bump into the front of her panties. Marcy lowered her hand til her thumb found the little button she was after, pressing in and making hard passes over Bridget's clit through the fabric of her underwear. Her lover's breathy moans were hot on Marcy's ears and she sucked the flesh of Briget's neck with her teeth. The pig knew Marcy was making a hickey but didn't care. Bridget reached down a hand to force her own knees apart, letting Marcy do whatever she wanted in the moment. After planting her feet she lifted her dress enough to get to Marcy's wrist and lifted it just to lower the raccoon's fingers inside the band of her underwear. Marcy felt around before sliding two fingers inside Bridget without any trouble. Bridget moaned softly and whispered through another labored breath, “I'm so wet… huh babe?"

Marcy growled an affirmation, fighting to lift Bridget's dress over her head with her free hand. Once she was looking at her lover's bra, Marcy didn't bother with it, just lifted one breast free from the material then the other so she could latch her lips and tongue onto Bridget's tits in turn, gingerly biting each nipple and then roughly sucking the whole areola. The raccoon stopped just long enough to say, “F- Fuck that's so hot… God you're a sex goddess and you don't know it…" Marcy tasted as much of her lover's body as her position allowed, fingers flexing against Bridget's walls and rubbing the smooth knot of nerves just inside. She wanted to drink in the passion of the moment, and left every mark she could think of, when she could think at all. Bridget stretched her back over the couch, one hand on Marcy's ass inside her shorts while the other held a handful of her fur at the shoulder, aching for the release Marcy's fingers always stopped short of as she paid more attention to her biting and sucking. Bridget begged between breaths, “Babe… Keep going. I'm so close."

Marcy nodded and slid herself from beneath the dress to throw off her shirt and press her own tits into Bridget's face. “Bite. Hard."

Bridget rolled her tongue over Marcy's left nipple before taking it into her teeth. She closed her eyes and opened up her mouth to take as much of the flesh as she could fit and bit down on it. Marcy growled and bucked her crotch into Bridget's thigh, trusting her fingers in and out of Bridget's soaked pussy. Marcy pulled the crotch of the panties aside for better access and slammed her fingers inside Bridget to the hilt, the heel of her palm slapping into Bridget's pubic bone and clit. Bridget moaned into Marcy's breast, running her tongue up and down her areola before swapping to the right and biting down roughly this time.

Marcy moaned and arched her back, sliding herself along Bridget's thigh some more, though she slowed down as Bridget bit her other side. Her hand slowed but increased in force and Bridget felt the hot rush of an orgasm down her spine after a few more hard hits against her clit. She was close enough to the edge of the couch that her squirting cum all hit the floor. Marcy let a long breath out and collapsed on Bridget's shoulder, forcing the pig to let go of her tit. “Thank you baby. You did amazing."

Bridget caught her breath, running her fingers up and down Marcy's naked back. “I did?"

The raccoon nodded against her lover's body. They sat like that for a good five minutes, caressing each other's arms, shoulders, and Marcy rubbing Bridget's inner thighs occasionally. Marcy eventually leaned up and kissed Bridget briefly on the lips again, smoothing out her dress coyly. “Sorry about that, I hope it's in one piece."

Bridget looked it over, inspecting the seams with her fingers. “Seems to be."

Marcy plucked herself from Bridget's thigh and walked over to the other side of the sectional to retrieve her shirt. “Was I too aggressive?"

Bridget smirked and bunched up her dress on her arms as she fondled her well-bitten and sucked tits for effect, “Not. At. All."

Marcy snickered and sidled back over to sit on the cushion again. She reached out and helped place the pig's D-cups back into the dislodged bra and wiggle it back into place. Bridged adjusted the straps on her torso and let her dress fall again. “I kinda liked that command. “Hard." Mmm, the way you said it, so confident and lusty and deep. You can do that more often. My little dom." Bridget adjusted her underwear back into place. “Mmm, making me tingly enough for round two, maybe, thinking about that voice."

“Maybe you'll hear it again sometime. Just maybe though."

Bridget feigned shocked indignation, “Just maybe? What if I'm such a good girl, always bite your boobs the way you like, always let you have me, even in public sometimes?"

Marcy raised a brow, “Be careful what you wish for, baby girl. I might just take you up on that."

“I guess that will determine which one of us is bluffing," Bridget snickered, reaching up to pull Marcy down to her face and lick her neck with her broad tongue.

Marcy shuddered the way she did when Bridget pet her tail. “I don't know which one of us is the worse tease… Let's get changed for that day trip, yeah?"

Bridget slowly stood up, testing her legs. She turned to run her hands up Marcy's sides and hug her just beneath her shoulders. Marcy returned the affection with her right arm. The pair stood there for a full minute without a word. Bridget let go first and Marcy wrapped her free arm around Bridget's midsection to try and keep hold of the hug. The pig gave a low laugh and ran one hand through Marcy's short hair and the other to the back of her neck for gentle kneading with her fingers.

Marcy said something too quiet for Bridget to hear.

“What, babe?"

The raccoon cleared her throat. “I said, we should get ready. Also, how long do you want to spend? It's a twenty minute drive out of town, this place I have in mind."

“Is that what you meant by day trip?" Bridget asked.

Marcy nodded, letting go of the hug to step toward the hallway.

Bridget followed, snapping her fingers as she remembered, “Hey! You never explained those things from when Gabriel was here."

“Oh yeah…" The raccoon rubbed her chin with two fingers. “Uhh, remind me what I said I would explain again?"

Bridget recounted, “What part of that man was “shabby" and what a Pride Parade is."

“Ah yes. Okay, so, when Gabe said he didn't want to look shabby, it was self-deprecating sarcasm. He knows he looks great, and he keeps a routine that ensures that. He was joking, essentially." Marcy opened the drawer with her pants and shorts in it and rummaged through, looking for something not made of denim while she continued, “The Pride Parade is a celebration of all things gay, lesbian, bisexual, et cetera. It's a social monument to the progress people have made with queer rights and social norms changing, legal protections and other things. It's also a celebration of history and a giant “fuck you" to the shrinking faction of bigots that want us dead and gone."

“Do people come from all over to see the parade?" Bridget removed a pair of loose shorts and a tattered grey shirt from her backpack for swimming use.

Marcy knelt down to roll up a pair of neoprene workout shorts in a black tank top on the floor. “Sometimes. Lots of cities in the US have their own Pride Parades, not just Basalt. The big one is in San Francisco, so most people go there if they're going to visit for Pride."

“Can we go someday? To see the big one?" Bridget sat herself down by Marcy and handed over the shorts she'd picked out.

Marcy dragged her mostly empty duffel from under the dresser where she'd stuffed it that morning, “Yeah, probably. Fly out of Norfolk, spend a weekend putzing around." She took Bridget's shorts and packed them with her own before rising to look through the bathroom cabinets for towels. “I've always wanted to see the Pacific coast."

Bridget patted her thighs still sitting on the floor, “When is the next one? Pride Parade."

Marcy slid three navy bath towels into the bag before rejoining Bridget and offering her a hand to stand up, “It's always in June. June is Pride Month in the US."

Bridget locked hands and pulled herself up as Marcy leaned back to help her. “Is this something I can read up on?"

“Oh, yeah. There's loads of books and tons of blogs. Just… start with the books. Stonewall is a good place to start, if you're looking for Pride-related stuff." Marcy dusted her hands on her hips and snagged the handle of the duffel. “Okay, let's get something going in that instant pot and then we'll head out."

The pair walked to the living room. Marcy dropped the duffel against the couch and noticed Gabriel's dust. “Should probably get that," she muttered to herself. “Okay, baby girl," Marcy turned to Bridget again and clapped her hands together, “You're up; in the kitchen, that little brown cabinet by itself is the pantry. Inside it are some chicken bullion cubes in a little bottle, a bag of white rice, and a bunch of spices. I want those two things and onion powder, salt, and the bottle of bayou red in there. Put all that on the counter, and then rinse the little saucepan in the sink from this morning. Got all that?"

Bridget nodded as Marcy explained and added a little bounce to her last nod, “I got it babe. Can do."

Marcy opened the second door at the close end of the hallway into Jack's office space and disappeared within. Bridget walked into the kitchen and found the cabinet. Finding what Marcy asked of her wasn't difficult so she set everything out and started washing the pan. A powerful whirring sound drowned out the sound of the sink a moment later as Marcy vacuumed the dust off the couch. Bridget rolled her eyes and finished up the pan, setting it on the hand towel nearby. Marcy stepped on the vacuum to turn it off and set about putting it away.

“You got all the stuff?" the raccoon called toward the kitchen.

“Yes." Bridget smiled, turning all the bottles to face frontward.

“Run the water for me, hot but not steaming, and empty the rice into that little pan you just cleaned." Marcy disappeared with the vacuum in hand.

Bridget did as she had been asked and started washing the rice, assuming that's what Marcy had intended to do with the hotter water.

The raccoon joined her in the kitchen just as she was dumping out the first round of rice water, “No no," Marcy held Bridget gently by the shoulders. “We want that stuff in this dish. We're not trying to make the rice too soft, it'll soften up being cooked for the hours we'll be gone. We're not steaming it."

“Ooohhh, sorry babe." Bridget handed Marcy the pot handle.

“No big deal. All good. Do you want to help or do you want me to do it?" Marcy held the pot under the running water to float the grains. Once there was enough she opened the instant pot and poured the rice and water in it.

Bridget shrugged, “This is your thing. I don't mind if you want me outta your way-"

“I'm not asking if you mind." Marcy interrupted, filling the pan a second time. “I'm asking if you want to be a part." Bridget looked downward and shuffled her feet. Marcy dumped the pan into the cooker and checked the water level. She put a hand on Bridget's cheek. “You can say no. I'm offering, not demanding."

Bridget reached up to clasp Marcy's hand in hers and then lowered them to her side. She gently shook her head and quietly said, “No." She leaned forward, lifting her chin enough to kiss the top of Marcy's muzzle. She spoke more normally, “It's your thing, babe, not mine. I like eating your food, and I appreciate the work that goes into what you do."

“I know you do." Marcy turned back to what she was doing, “That's fine. This should only take me five minutes."

“Alright. I'm gonna see what's on this tv." Bridget walked around the kitchen wall and plopped down where the dust had been, swiping the remote from the little center table. The screen came on with a fanfare chime and showed a grid of colorful logos in boxes with a scrolling background of a city with all sorts of architecture styles, a bay with a robot and a monster fighting in it, and its own little billboards. “Ain't that cute."

Bridget spent some time fiddling with the menus and descriptions of all the channels and apps before turning the tv off again, nothing having piqued her interest. She wandered into the bedroom and collected her phone from the skirt pocket in the pile of her clothes. Bridget made her way to the kitchen where Marcy was closing the instant pot lid and pressing the setting buttons on the front.

“Hey Marcy," Bridget leaned against the open frame of the partition, “what are some good phone games?"

“Huummm… That's a good question. There's so much ad-riddled trash these days," Marcy sounded annoyed, “that it's hard to find something that actually qualifies as a game and not an ad brochure with some sound effects."

Bridget frowned, “Is it really that bad?"

“Yes and no. If you want," Marcy emphasized with air quotes, “free" games, yes. If you find something interesting that has a price tag to begin with, ninety percent no."

“Alright," Bridget looked down at her phone and tapped to open the app store, “so what's good with a price tag?"

“There's always Tetris, that's a classic and hard to go wrong there." Marcy tapped her chin in thought, “There used to be a bunch of funny little golf games that weren't too bad, but I think the company that made them went under. If you like puzzles and word games, most of those are pretty good, the paid ones, like I said. Sudokus and solitaires, that sort of thing. Oh yeah, and pinball, too. You'll have to sort them by release date because the older ones are better but that's what I have for down time. Let me look and I'll tell you the one I have…" Marcy grabbed her phone from the counter nearby and swiped through it with her thumb. “Ah yeah, Metal Flip it's called. I think it was ninety-nine cents when I got it."

“This one?" Bridget turned her screen around to show Marcy her search results.

“Yeah, that second one. Nice, still under a dollar." Marcy turned back to check the pot and pressed the start button. “It has six tables and if you can get a million points on at least three of them you can open up six more, two with each gold star you get. And the music is unreasonably good for a pinball game."

Bridget tilted her head, “Why's that unreasonable?"

“It's not-" Marcy gave a little laugh, “It's not, really. It's just that the really awesome soundtracks are usually experienced in big, triple-A titles." Marcy pocketed her phone again, “Gaming has a whole other culture to it, baby girl. And I'm not super deep into it these days, so even my insights there are probably wrong by now."

“You used to be deep in it?" Bridget followed Marcy toward the door, picking up the duffel by its handle and letting it roll behind her.

“Kinda. I had a Super Nintendo as a kid, and that was the console to have at the time." Marcy held her hands out pretending to hold the controller and press the buttons as they walked along the catwalk, “My grandmother loved playing Nintendo with us grandkids. We spent many hours playing together. She used to say it was easy on her joints and good for keeping her brain active." Marcy ran a hand through her hair and looked down at the duffel Bridget held, “Thanks for grabbing that. Oh!" Marcy jogged back toward the apartment door, “Gonna need keys. Go ahead, I'll be down in a sec."

Bridget nodded and turned into the inner hall toward the staircase. She hefted the bag without issue since it was nowhere near full. She made her way to the truck and set the thing gently in the bed on a very worn and hole-riddled tarp stuck under Marcy's toolbox and a single forty-five pound weight. A moment later the door closed, Marcy turned around to lock it, and dashed down to meet Bridget.

The raccoon jumped into her truck bed, using an arm to lever herself over in a sideways hurdle leap. She knelt by the bag and opened it to put in four bottles of water she held under an arm. “Just in case." Bridget heard the click of the door locks and stepped into the cab. Marcy joined her a moment after and let out a hard breath from her run. “Hokay, let's do this. It's three fifty now. That should give us an hour to relax and hang out, and plenty of travel time aside. Sound good?"

“Sounds good, babe." Bridget parroted. “So where are we going?"

Marcy started up the truck and backed out, navigating the apartment lot easily, “It's a little watering hole lake in a park my sister brought me to back in the day." Marcy snickered, “She really went because her boyfriend would meet us there and they would screw around while I played in the water and the trees. But, credit where it's due, she didn't tell me to get lost, and any time I did interrupt them if I got bored, she would come out and spend some time in the water with me. Sometimes Vance, the boyfriend, would join us too."

“Sounds like you had a happy childhood." Bridget reached over and patted Marcy just above the knee.

Marcy tilted her head to give Bridget a smile. “I did." She looked back to the road, offering Bridget a hand that she took with a loving squeeze.

“Do you think we'll see your sister out there, just happenstance?"

Marcy gave a light snort, “Probably not. She's a lawyer in Norfolk now. Though, I should call her. Tell her she was right about Joice…"

“What's your sister's name?" Bridget gave another light squeeze to Marcy's hand.

“She goes by Alice these days." Marcy turned her head to check highway traffic and merge. “She hated her birth name: Kimberly."

“Aww, she didn't like Kim either?" Bridget tapped her free hand on her thigh to the quiet music that had auto-started.

Marcy shook her head, “Nope. I never asked why, either. It wasn't important to me. I like my name."

Bridget giggled, “If you could choose another name, what would it be? Or, would you?"

Marcy answered, “I would not. Marceline Ellanore Alred suits me just fine. It feels right, like it fits."

“I'm not sure I like Bridget Moore. I don't even have a middle name to use."

“So, who would you want to be, baby girl?"

The pig rubbed her chin in thought. “Priscilla Baker. Maybe Haley as a middle name. Or Bailey."

Marcy let go of Bridget's hand to scratch her cheek. “Do you want me to call you Priscilla from now on?"

“I mean, when you're not calling me baby girl, or honey. Or sweet southern woman." Bridget giggled, and Marcy joined in a moment after.

The raccoon shook her head, “I guess we never asked if either of us liked pet names. I don't mind, babe is perfectly acceptable to me. What about you?"

“I feel the same. Just as long as you avoid princess and little piggy. Those are… from the… the cult. And, surely that needs no further explanation."

“None," Marcy agreed in a soft tone of voice.

“Alright," Bridget nodded. “Pretty much anything else should be fine. Unless I can't repeat it in public or it's designed to be embarrassing."

“So no schmoopsy-poos or wuvvy-muvvy-mushy-wushy's?"

Bridget shook her head with an exaggerated gag. “Pardon me but Hell no."

The raccoon got to laughing so much she had to consciously force one eye open to keep driving. “Oh that was funny." Marcy took a few moments to let her laughter out.

Bridget caught herself snickering at how amused Marcy was.

The raccoon let out a long breath with a, “Hooooo," as she guided the truck down a junction ramp that led out of Basalt. “I'll call you Priscilla. If you want me to."

Bridget smiled and laid her head in her hand, elbow on the door against the base of the window. “I'll think about it. I can't imagine having a different name."

“Why not?"

The pig tilted her head further into her hand and shrugged, “Just not something I ever thought about before. Besides, I don't hate my name or anything."

Marcy glanced over before looking back at the highway, “You don't have to hate something to change it. I cut my hair short just to try something new. I've never looked back to long styles for myself. But I could grow it again if I change my mind someday."

Bridget sat up, lowering her arm into her lap, “Do you not like my name?"

“No, Bridget. Not what I'm trying to say at all." Marcy reached over with her hand again. Bridget held the back of it and traced her fingers into Marcy's palm. “You were immediately open to Gabe preferring a different name, even if he was kidding. I'm just wondering why you'd treat yourself any different."

Bridget floated into her own head at the idea. She wasn't really looking at their hands and didn't notice she was still tracing her fingers around the raccoon's palm. The pig worked through her thoughts for a long while, long enough that by the time she looked up the only things outside the windshield were trees and countryside. She sat back in her seat, taking Marcy's hand properly in a gentle hold. “You're right, but I don't have a good reason. I just can't see myself with a different name."

Marcy gave a little nod, “That's okay too."

Bridget smiled and closed her eyes, feeling the warm sunlight through the glass on her skin, hearing the quiet melody of a violin and a pretty, feminine vocalist on the stereo, and bringing up her girlfriend's hand to place a sweet kiss on the raccoon's fingers. “Everything's okay right now."

Marcy sighed at the kiss, stroking Bridget's hand with her thumb as she pushed her other palm into the steering wheel, slowed down and turned right toward a cracked concrete road. “We're almost there."

A big, dark wooden sign painted with faded blue letters passed by Bridget's window, reading, “Lake Cherry Cauldron" on the top board and, “Huntweil Campgrounds" on the lower board. A moment later the inlet road opened into a massive parking lot filled with cars and trucks, campers and two Winnebagos. Marcy had to circle two columns of diagonal spots to find an open one. “You ready?"

“This seems like a popular place," Bridget observed, seeing a group of people walking down a concrete footpath at the far end of the lot.

“Yeah," Marcy turned off the truck, “but it's worth it, and CC is huge, we won't have trouble finding a quiet spot if we want it. Or, we can set up near people."

“Why did they call the lake that, anyway?" Bridget slid out of her seat and closed her door.

Marcy locked the cab with her fob and grabbed the duffel out of the bed, dragging the handle out of its end. “There used to be a pack of fruitless cherry trees on that ridge up there," Marcy pointed toward a sandstone shelf. “But, some of the trees got root rot so the park services took them all out. There's been at least a dozen petitions to plant new ones."

“I bet they were beautiful."

“Yeah. They were…" Marcy looked toward the ridge as they walked toward the footpath. “They would drop petals and blooms in late spring, and weddings held here would boat people through the shower of pink and white. I remember Alice saying she would want to do that someday."

They both walked past a small building next to the path, Bridget only following because Marcy kept going. The path began winding down toward the lake, water glistening with sunlight. Bridget distinctly heard a splash somewhere in front of them and off to the left. As the path lowered them toward the shore, Bridget could see dozens of people along the water line. Children were laughing and shouting, playing with beach toys and splashing about either freely in shallows or with floats and guardians a little further into the lake. There were sunbathers and even a few little black charcoal grills wisping smoke into the spring air.

“This way," Marcy put a hand on Bridget's hip to guide her off the path and toward the trees.

Bridget snickered, “Going to the secret place?"

“As a matter of fact," Marcy began, sliding the handle into the duffel and picking it up in one smooth motion, “we sure are. It's quieter and has more shade. It's also better water; it's closer to the river inlet."

Bridget clapped quietly, “Oh goodie. Are we going skinny dipping?"

Marcy scoffed, “Hah, no no no. I call it a secret place, but it's really not. Tourists don't come this way, but the locals do. Sorry to burst that bubble."

Bridget rubbed Marcy's shoulder lightly, “I was joking, babe. I don't think I could. I'd be terrified of a fish swimming into me."

Marcy laughed a bit louder than she intended. “I'm pretty sure that's an urban legend at best."

They stepped around a large perennial bush to see another curved stretch of the lake, almost like a bay. Perhaps a quarter mile further up was the river Marcy mentioned flowing calmly into the blue waters of the lake. There were four other people on the water line and one resting in a cloth hammock tied between two heavy-looking branches of a tree. There was a concrete building maybe thirty meters from the water. Marcy pointed to it, “Bathrooms and showers. No lockers on this side though. Let's go change."

Bridget followed Marcy into the women's side and had to take a breath to steady herself as Marcy stripped down right on the first bench inside the doorway. The pig collected her shorts and tshirt and headed for a stall. I wish I had her confidence, her ability to just… do that with her body. Bridget locked the bar across the latch and changed, hanging her dress on the bent garment hook. She grabbed her things and walked out, setting them carefully into the duffel as Marcy shimmied her hips into her tight shorts, already in her tank top. The raccoon dropped her clothes into the bag and zipped it up.

“Ready?"

Bridget nodded, “Yes ma'am."

The two headed out and chose a sturdy tree near the to leave the duffel propped up against so it was easier to see. They both walked down and stepped into the water holding hands. Bridget's body instantly flustered into goosebumps at the cold of the lake. “Oh my god that's cold."

“Yeah," Marcy sat down, letting go of Bridget's hand in the motion, “we're by the river, it's colder on this side." She sat with just her cheeks in the water, lifting her tail behind her.

Bridget fidgeted about while trying not to stamp her feet so she didn't splash Marcy. She looked down and could clearly see Marcy's nipples poking up beneath her tank top. The pig sat down and stretched her legs into the waters. She looked down at her shirt: even with her bigger bust the shirt was loose enough that her chest looked normal, despite the tingling sensation from the fabric brushing her own hard buttons.

One of the other people in the vicinity waded into the water maybe ten meters from the pair. He was a strong looking fox who confidently swam a good way into the lake and turned around to float on his back, occasionally flicking his ears against the gentle current of water. He wore a big smile and waved to the other three still on shore behind Marcy and Bridget. Two others followed, a white furred goat girl wearing a zebra striped bikini and a chubby beaver boy in a tight wetsuit. They followed the fox out and began roughhousing with each other, pushing, dunking, and laughing.

The fourth stood at the shoreline, a grey wolf with curly platinum blonde hair. His trunks were Hawaiian colored hibiscus on a background of waves. He had his arms crossed over his chest. Bridget found herself watching him behind Marcy's head.

“Come on, Dane. It's great out here, mate," called the fox.

Dane looked at Marcy and Bridget only to see Bridget seeing him. He quickly looked down and waded waist deep into the water. He knelt down so only his head was out of the water. “Maybe in a bit."

“Don't mind us," Marcy spoke without turning her head. Bridget sheepishly forced herself to look toward the river.

The fox swam over to the wolf and hefted him above the water by the armpits. “Mate. You're alright, come on. You will regret missing the little moments forever." The fox hugged Dane firmly and said something Bridget couldn't hear.

The wolf let out a soft sigh and hugged the fox back with one arm before nodding. As the fox let Dane go, he walked and then swam out with the fox to join in the fun, immediately dunking the goat girl by her horns. She came up laughing and fighting to return the favor.

“You wanna join them?" Marcy pushed a thumb toward the four. “Looks like fun."

Bridget looked again, “We weren't invited…"

Marcy let out a shrill whistle which instantly had all four stopped to look their way. She raised her voice a little and cupped a hand to her muzzle to help it carry, “Mind if we come play, too?"

The four looked at one another, the goat girl was the first to nod followed by the beaver. Dane swam behind the fox who called back, “One tap, and no cheap shots, yeah?"

“What's that mean?" Bridget whispered as Marcy stood up and began stepping toward the group, Bridget pressing her hands into the bank to help her stand.

“It means if you feel tapping on your body you let the person you dunk up," the raccoon explained. “Which also means that's how you get let up. No cheap shots, like splashing water to make someone close their eyes or pulling clothes."

“Oh. Okay. Sounds fair." Bridget followed Marcy out, not terribly confident in her swimming but feeling alright with Marcy there.

“Nice to meet you," Marcy opened. “I'm Marcy, this is… Bridget," Bridget nodded.

The fox put a hand to his chest, “I'm Janus, this," he patted the beaver's shoulder, “is Lonny-"

The goat girl interrupted, “I'm Shelly, you look familiar, Bridget."

“I do?" Bridget found a sandbar and set her feet down, grateful for the break for her arms.

“Oh yeah!" the fox exclaimed, “Do you work at Carlo's?"

Bridget nodded.

“Lonny! Your girl's here!" The fox jostled the beaver boy's shoulder as he blushed crimson.

“Don't tease him, Janus," Shelly admonished. She turned back to Bridget, “We ate there two days ago. Janus and Lonny are visiting. Dane and I are roommates at Virginia State, and we love this little lake."

“No shit?" Marcy gently tapped Shelly's shoulder. “I got accepted there. Never went. Things got in the way. Congrats, what year?"

“We're juniors," Shelly said. “Both bio. He's doing pathogen research and I'm headed for pre-med."

“Nice, nice," Marcy nodded. “What about you two?" Marcy waggled a dripping finger between the fox and beaver.

Lonny answered in an Australian accent, “I'm a power tech at the Sydney hydro plant."

“And I'm a transplant working the railways overseas," Janus explained. “Australia's great."

“Hey Janus, c'mere. You've got a bug on you," Marcy cooed, beckoning him closer. As soon as she could reach him, Marcy dunked the fox effortlessly and let him up as soon as she had done so. Janus came up for a breath and then started laughing. Marcy smirked, “That's my girl, y'hear?"

Bridget smiled as the whole group laughed, even Dane who had floated back a bit at his cover-fox being dunked. The roughhousing began again, Marcy and Lonny teaming up on Janus who kept turning and begging Dane to help him. Shelly tried to dunk Bridget but couldn't, the pig's legs strong and resolute on the sandbar. Bridget smirked and lifted the girl up by her waist and letting her down into and beneath the waters. Shelly came up laughing too and reached out to Bridget who took her arm without hesitation and let her wipe water from her face.

Eventually, Dane did wrestle with Lonny to keep the attention on Janus equal. Shelly and Bridget stood on the sandbar watching the boys and Marcy play, though Shelly had to tilt her head back a bit to stay above the water. Eventually the boys swam back around to Shelly and Bridget.

“Shelly?!" called Janus. “Fraternizing with the newbie, eh?!"

“What can I say?" Shelly shrugged and offered Bridget her arm again. Bridget lifted her comfortably above the water. “She's too strong. I'm joining the winning team is all." Bridget laughed.

Marcy laughed, hands locked together with Janus's, “That's it baby girl! Impress the locals, we'll take over in no time!" Her laughter weakened her grip and Janus dunked her but then let go so Marcy could surface. The raccoon came up with a smile on her face, Janus looking quite pleased with himself.

Dane jumped up from the sandbar and locked his arms around Bridget's shoulders. Bridget didn't budge and just turned her head over her shoulder to see the wolf.

“Hello there," she cooed at him.

“Hi Bridget." She felt him flex his feet in the sand, “Bye Bridget!"

The pig felt herself overthrown and beneath the water. She kicked her legs to propel her body up and broke the surface. She fought back to the sand and then burst out laughing. She rubbed the water from her eyes and held up her hands to Dane. “Rematch, big guy."

Marcy beamed and hugged her own shoulders, kicking to tread the water.

Janus jostled her gently, “She really your girl?"

Marcy looked at the fox for a moment, Dane taking Bridget's hands for their struggle. “Yeah… I still can't believe it sometimes."

“You two look good for each other." Janus offered Marcy a high-five. The raccoon slapped his hand with gusto, pushing him backward in the same motion to dunk him again. He pulled her down into the water as he pulled himself up. They both surfaced laughing again and watched the pig and wolf wrestle their arms this way and that, looking to throw their strength and weight into the other. Bridget was laughing and grinning, twisting at the trunk of her body. Dane kept his head straight and one leg back, trying to get Bridget above him so he could lift and move her. Neither could budge the other. Marcy and Lonny cheered Bridget on while Shelly and Janus clapped and chanted, “D-ane, D-ane, D-ane."

Two minutes into their rematch, Bridget looked down and saw thick scars on Dane's chest, on the bottom of his pecs, revealed by his wet fur falling this way and that. In her fixation on them, Dane was able to lift and toss her off the sandbar, and Shelly and Janus jumped up to dunk her. They let her up as soon as she was under.

Marcy patted Bridget's shoulder after she had surfaced again, “Good match, good match."

Dane was smiling and high-fiving his friends. Once he'd slapped hands with them all he offered Bridget a handshake. “Good game."

She took and shook his hand gently, her eyes darting to his chest once more.

Janus called out, “Alright, everybody out. Snack time!" The fox turned to the pair, “Marcy, Bridget, join us? We brought plenty."

“Love to. Bridget?" Marcy held onto Bridget, legs wrapped around her waist as Bridget stood in the water.

Bridget nodded, “Yeah, sure."

Everyone swam and then waded to the shore. Shelly ran ahead and spread out a fluffy comforter on the dusty grass of the lakeside. Janus hefted a big plastic picnic basket from under a nearby umbrella and dramatically lowered it into the middle of the group. Lonny sat on his tail and fished a hand into the basket. Dane pushed the lid off an old cooler with his foot and bent down to grab a soda from the ice-packed box and offer it to Janus. Marcy dashed over to her duffel and grabbed the water bottles before returning to the group and sitting between Janus and Lonny. Bridget sat between Shelly and Dane. Lonny withdrew several ziploc bags with sandwiches in them pinched between his fingers and started tossing them to everyone. Shelly dug through the basket with one hand and accepted a can from Dane with the other.

Marcy looked into the sandwich without opening the bag. It seemed to be made with dark green lettuce, tomato, and bacon strips. “Oooh, BLTs?"

Dane sat down, placing three more cans at the base of the basket with a fourth in his other hand. “Yeah, they're easy to make."

“Nice," commented Marcy in the midst of opening her bag.

“So," Lonny started before taking a bite and continuing anyway, “are you two visiting Basalt or no?"

Bridget placed her offered sandwich on top of the basket. “We live in town, yeah." She caught Shelly looking in her direction a little sad and gave a smile, “Sorry, we have dinner going back at home. Don't want to spoil it for myself." Shelly nodded and bit into her sandwich.

Marcy pointed toward the hammock, “Anybody know them?"

The other four shook their heads or shrugged, Janus replying, “Nope. He was here when we got here. We checked on him not long before you two arrived. He's breathing, seems normal."

Marcy nodded, satisfied. “How long are you boys here for?"

“Just til the week's out," Lonny replied, already finished with his sandwich. He grabbed the one Bridget had politely declined and tore into it, following up with a long drink of his soda.

Bridget twisted open one of the water bottles and took a drink.

The group spent a good ten minutes sharing food and drink. Marcy told a joke which spurred Janus into telling another, and the two spent half the time keeping everyone laughing. Eventually Lonny and Janus returned to the waterline and sat in the shallows up to their chests. Shelly joined them after fishing her phone out of a bag near the umbrella and checking it. Marcy and Bridget sat with Dane, who laid down on the mostly empty comforter. Marcy laid her head over Bridget's lap, smiling up at her lover.

Bridget stroked Marcy's damp hair and looked at Dane. “May I ask you something, Dane?"

The wolf smiled, “You just did."

Marcy and Bridget scoffed, Bridget shaking her head, “You know what I mean."

Dane snickered and put his hands behind his head, “Sure, sure. What's on your mind?"

Bridget briefly gestured to Dane's chest, “What happened to give you those scars?"

The wolf lifted his hands to cover his chest and then slowly pulled them back behind his head again. He turned his face away from the pair for a long moment. Just as Bridget was about to say something, he turned his gaze straight up and said, “They're from my top surgery."

Marcy opened her eyes, saw Bridget's confusion, and patted her tummy, “I'll explain later."

Dane took a long breath before saying, “It's alright. Bridget, have you ever met a trans man before?"

“I don't know what that is. So I don't know."

Dane rolled onto his side with a confused look of his own. Marcy waved a hand toward him, “It's a long, difficult story."

Bridget took hold of Marcy's waving wrist and slowly put it back down to her side. “It is not. I was in a cult from infancy til rescue. There's lots I don't know."

“Oh wow…" Dane looked sad and a bit shocked. “I'm sorry, that must have been awful."

“Sometimes," Bridget admitted. “What's a trans man?"

Dane bobbed his head, “I was born with a female body, but I never felt at home in it. Being a girl never felt right. So, I've been taking testosterone and had my breasts surgically removed three years ago."

The pig held her chin in thought for a while. “Do you feel right now?"

“Yes. I feel like an actual person these days." Dane ran the arm he wasn't lying on down his mostly flat chest.

“Well, good for you." Bridget smiled and returned to stroking Marcy's hair.

“Dane," Marcy began, “Shelly said you two are roommates at V State, yeah?"

The wolf nodded, sitting up, “That's right."

“Are the dorms co-ed?"

“No," Dane sighed, “They're not. I'm very lucky… Shelly and I went to school together pretty much our whole lives. And we've been friends almost the whole time. I can't imagine," he gestured to himself, “me living with some random girl. It would be awkward and awful."

Bridget raised a brow, “Why do you think that?"

“Well… I mean…" Dane was lost for words.

Marcy caressed Bridget's cheek to get her to look down, “Because Dane is a man, and college girls who live on campus probably would be intimidated by him. He's big as you are, Bridget. Tell me you wouldn't have been worried having to room with him your first year in the hostel. If it sheltered men, anyway."

Bridget looked between Dane and Marcy a few times and then nodded. “Yeah, I probably would have been real scared. No offense, Dane. I was terrified of pretty much every man for right about two years."

“Something that happened in the cult?" Dane asked.

Bridget nodded. “Yeah…"

Dane waved his hands across each other to dismiss the conversation, “I won't ask beyond that."

Marcy sat up and looked down to the waterline. The other three were sitting or floating still, chatting amongst themselves. The raccoon turned to the wolf, “Can I have your number? So we can hang out sometime." Marcy patted Bridget's shoulder, “We don't have that many friends. Bridget's been catching up with what she missed growing up, and I-" Marcy cleared her throat, “I've lost most of my friends thanks to some seriously fucked up drama. Not that they were really “friends" in the first place, but still."

Dane smiled softly, “Sure. I'd love that." He reached into the same bag Shelly's phone had come from and pulled out a brick of a smartphone and handed it to Marcy on the home screen. “Contacts at the bottom. Just add yourself and I'll text you so you get mine."

“Ah, cool, thanks," Marcy said, taking the phone and doing as Dane asked. She took a quick selfie of her face in Bridget's lap holding a peace sign over her cheek with a coy wink. “There we go." Marcy pushed herself up and handed Dane his phone again.

“Nice," he chuckled at seeing the contact picture. “I appreciate this. Shelly's going to be super busy when she gets into pre-med next year, so it's nice to think I might still have a social life. Love her to death, hope she gets everything she wants. But it does mean she has less time for us. For me."

“I get that," Marcy nodded, reaching over to take hold of Bridget's hand. “Her life going on doesn't stop you from having feelings."

“Yeah," Dane nodded. He drained his soda can and crushed it between his fingers. “What do you two do for fun, anyway?"

Bridget snickered at herself and shrugged. Marcy patted the back of her lover's hand and answered, “She hasn't really gotten to explore society yet, she's been so busy between work and getting a GED. I haven't been somewhere solely to have fun in two years myself, until today. But, back before all that, I liked coming down here to this very spot. I loved going to the county fair as a kid and I'm confident I would still enjoy the rides. I liked going to the batting cages. There's a few things, and of course new stuff I'd like to try now that I have adult money." The raccoon looked over to the wolf, “What about you?"

Dane picked up one of the water bottles Marcy had brought over and held it up with a raised brow. Marcy gave a thumbs up. He opened it and downed half of it in one drink. “Ahhh… Right, fun, me. Uhh, I go to the local coffee shop and write. Or just listen to music in their lounge room. Sometimes I'll go to the arcade on Saturdays, they have a thing they call power hour where you buy a fifteen dollar card that plays anything for an hour."

“What do you write about?" Bridget asked.

Dane took another drink of the water before answering, “Mostly superhero fanfiction. Sometimes weird poems."

“Poems, eh?" Marcy raised herself up where she was leaning on Bridget. “Poems about what?"

Dane looked nonplussed, “You really want to know?"

Both girls nodded.

Dane shrugged and answered, “I use a lot of morbid motifs to illustrate how I used to relate to not being who or what I felt I should be. I also write about virginity. And people's weird obsession with the concept."

Bridget raised a brow and without missing a beat asked, “Are you a virgin, Dane?"

Marcy scoffed, “Bridget!"

Dane smiled and shook his head slowly, “It's okay. No, I'm not a virgin."

The pig leaned over to be face-to-face with Marcy, “Is that not okay?"

Marcy nodded, “It's just not something you should ask someone you met an hour ago."

“Oh, okay." Bridget looked to Dane, “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Dane shook his head and rustled his hair with a hand, “No apology necessary. But I appreciate that, Bridget."

Marcy laid back down with her head in Bridget's lap, “Not everyone is as open with their sex lives as we are with each other."

“I see." Bridget stroked Marcy's hair, watching the other three swim and float about down on the water.

“I'll fall asleep if you keep that up," Marcy murmured.

Bridget smirked and ran her other hand back and forth across Marcy's stomach, “I can carry you, it's fine."

“Mmm hmm." The raccoon rolled over to face into Bridget and sighed.

“How long have you two been together?" Dane asked after another drink from the bottle.

Bridget answered without stopping her affections on Marcy, “Three months, officially. We've known each other for just shy of a year, passing in the halls of a women's hostel and then having the same therapy group."

“Oh wow, so you kinda got introduced by being vulnerable with each other, huh?" Dane hugged his knees to his chest.

Bridget nodded, “Yeah. We have similar traumas, so we had something to bond over and an understanding of where each other was coming from."

“That's awesome." Dane shifted his shoulders, “Not- not the trauma, but that you have someone who understands."

Bridget smiled, “I get you. Hey, so, can I ask you something personal Dane?"

“Sure," the wolf finished the water and capped the bottle. “I might not answer if it's too personal, though."

“Fair enough," Bridget nodded, “You were born a woman, but now you're a man, right?"

The wolf simply nodded.

“Does taking testosterone make you grow a penis?"

Dane choked out a laugh and covered his mouth, his eyes shut tight to fight against seeming rude. Once he'd composed himself again he shook his head, “No, t does not make the body grow a penis. Although that would be hella convenient and a lot cheaper than the actual way trans men have to get them." Dane sniffed and cleared his throat. “To answer the more personal aspect of what I think you're getting at: no, I don't have a penis. And, if you ever meet any other trans people, don't ask them about that stuff. Unless you're going to be sexual partners. And even then, maybe don't anyway."

“Well I figured you didn't have one." Bridget looked down at Marcy who had fallen asleep, just as she said she would. “A body part doesn't make a man, anyway. I mean, you've seen other pig folk, right?"

Dane nodded again, “I have."

“We all have some kinda boobs. Men, women, don't matter. And they all look the same when we're naked, too. Well, mostly. You get the idea."

“Right."

“I only ask," Bridget scratched her chin with the hand from Marcy's stomach, “because I've never met someone who's done what you've done, been where you've been. I like learning about people and what makes them tick. So, thank you for explaining it. Sometimes I just don't realize the wall between private and public." The pig sighed and ran her fingers through her lover's hair more tenderly. “In a cult, nothing is private in the way it is outside, out here. It's been six years, but I was there for eighteen… Not everything makes sense to me yet."

Dane looked behind him at his friends for a brief moment before turning back and giving a solemn nod. “I get that. You were born into a completely different world, socially. That's tough. I figured, with Marcy explaining social cues to you, that it was something like that. Besides," Dane smiled again, “it's kind of nice to talk about the trans parts of my life without the burden of sounding weird to normal people. So, Bridget, you can ask me one question, no matter how ridiculous, every time we meet up. In exchange, you'll ignore any of my awkward moments and panic attacks. Unless I need help, because sometimes I do. Fair?"

“You have panic attacks, too?" Bridget carefully shifted her legs under Marcy's head.

“I do, yes. Do you have them?" Dane asked.

Bridget pointed at Marcy's head, “No, but this one does. They're usually mild, she says. I've never seen her full-on shut down, like the books say, so I think she's right, but she has been sent home from work before."

Dane gave a sing-song reply, “We just have so much in common, we three."

“So it would seem," Bridget said.

The trio in the water called out to Dane and he excused himself politely. Bridget laid back on the comforter and enjoyed the quiet afternoon. A few minutes later, Marcy briefly awoke and laid herself more on top of Bridget, resting her head on the pig's shoulder. Bridget watched the patches of little white wildflowers just barely sway in the breeze, watched the four friends playing and swimming with the occasional squeal or laugh, took in a long slow breath, and let it out as quietly as she could while laying an arm over Marcy's back.

Bridget awoke to Marcy climbing off her and gently shaking her by the hand. “Time to get up baby girl. Our new friends are headed out and need their stuff."

“Wuhh," Bridget rubbed her eyes. “How long was I out?"

Shelly answered, “Maybe twenty minutes. We packed up everything else first. You two are adorable, by the way."

“Thank you, Shelly," Marcy said. She helped Bridget to her feet and then spread her arms wide. “Group hug?"

Bridget stretched and let her left arm fall on Marcy's shoulder while she held out her right in silent agreement. Shelly walked right in to hug both girls by the waist. Lonny stepped in on Marcy's side, Janus hugged all four of them and Dane walked around behind to sandwich Marcy and Bridget between him and the others.

“Nice to meet ya," Lonny said as everyone slowly let go of each other. “We should keep up, maybe we do this again sometime, yeah?"

Dane nodded, “Got that covered, good buddy."

Janus hefted the basket from before onto his shoulder, carrying the now folded umbrella in his other hand. “Alright, that's everything. See you guys tomorrow, yeah?"

Shelly stuffed the damp blanket into a large canvas bag, “It's been so nice to visit again. You drive safe, Janus. I know you."

“Sure thing, Shell," Janus blew the goat a kiss. “Come on Lonny my man. That hotel wifi is calling our names, mate."

“Oh yeah, I think I hear it. See you guys bright and early." Lonny walked off with the fox, waving both his hands.

Marcy carried over her aqua duffel and waved to the departing pair. Dane was carrying a smaller bag as Shelly hefted the one with the comforter in it.

“Dane," Marcy said, “you'll keep us in the loop?"

“I will," the wolf nodded again.

Shelly balanced her bag on her hip and waved to Marcy and Bridget, “It was lovely to meet you two. We'll have to do something one weekend, if not between semesters."

Bridget smiled and hugged Marcy's shoulder, “We'll get together again, maybe we'll invite you to our new place when we get settled."

“Oooh, yeah!" Marcy snapped her fingers, “that's a great idea! We'll have a little house or apartment warming, wherever we end up."

Dane bounced on his knees, “That sounds good! Text me, Marcy. We'll make a plan."

Shelly and Dane started to walk through the trees toward the trail. Marcy and Bridget called one more goodbye before heading to change. They quietly checked on the hammock occupant and found him reading a book. They waved politely and he raised his book just a bit in acknowledgement.

They changed without interruption, Bridget locking herself in the same stall again, and then trekked to the truck without incident. Bridget wheeled and then carried the duffel on the way back, setting it into the truck bed easily. The two climbed in the cab and sighed.

“That was quite nice, babe," Bridget commented. “I'm glad we came today. Made some new friends, too."

The raccoon nodded and started the truck, “We did. They seem like good people. Do you remember waiting on them?"

Bridget shook her head slowly, “I don't think I did. But if they were in the back room they definitely saw me. So, probably just that."

“Fair enough. Let's get home." Marcy backed out carefully, though the lot looked about half empty by now. The highway drive was cool and quiet, and Bridget fell asleep once more against the window.

. . .

Marcy drove with her eyes mostly on the road, only glancing at her sleeping girlfriend every so often. She felt herself smile as the highway turned back into city road. She spoke softly under her breath, “How did I get so damn lucky? What makes you want to stay? I wonder if I should say I love you yet…" The raccoon's smile lowered and she kept both hands on the wheel. It was another few minutes until she exited the highway into the city streets proper. She whispered to herself again, “I love you Bridget."

Marcy tapped on her phone while waiting at the access road's light to get some music playing quietly. She noticed while doing so that it was just past six. She texted Gabe, “We still on?"

As the light changed and Marcy turned left her speakers pinged with her text alert. Marcy held her breath to listen to Bridget and make sure the sound hadn't disturbed her. A soft snore assured Marcy Bridget was sound asleep. The raccoon breathed out and snickered at herself, turning toward uptown and their temporary apartment.

The sun was golden orange in its descent into evening. Marcy was the perfect height to keep the sun's light behind her rearview so she wasn't blinded. After a few more lights and two turns she pulled into the apartment lot and into the same spot she'd had the past two days. She gently shook Bridget by the hand again.

“Mmmmm, no, no, no…" Bridget murmured.

Marcy giggled, “Come on. We're here. Come upstairs and you can nap on the couch."

“Is Gabriel coming still?" Bridget fumbled her way out of her seatbelt and opened the door.

Marcy stepped down and checked her phone while wandering to Bridget's side. His reply said, “On my way now my gal."

Marcy took Bridget's hand, “Yes he is."

Bridget yawned and stretched her legs, bending at the waist after. “Mmmmm, kay."

“Do you want to change?" Marcy pressed the keyfob to lock the truck while Bridget fished the duffel out of the bed.

“Nah." The pig bumped into Marcy as she sleepily walked toward the hallway toward the stairs. “Maybe." As they reached the third floor landing, Bridget shook her head, “Nah. Nah. He's good folk, and I don't feel like it."

Marcy laughed lightly, “Oohh kay baby girl."

A moment later Marcy was opening their door. Bridget spilled through it, dropping the duffel next to the couch, and simply letting herself fall over the back of the closest section to turn over and lay on it.

Marcy draped herself over the couch and stroked Bridget's arm with her fingers. “We can reschedule if you're too tired, baby girl."

Bridget shook her head, “I'm okay. Promise. Just… I'm happy. It's not tired, it's relaxed."

Marcy smiled and half-jumped over the couch to kiss Bridget's cheek and then lips when the pig turned her head toward the affection. “Mkay. You relax then, and I'll finish up dinner." As she rounded the kitchen partition, the instant pot display read “warm." The raccoon grabbed a towel and flicked the pressure valve with it, the steam rushing out with a loud sound. Bridget appeared around the partition wide-eyed. “It's supposed to do that," Marcy explained over the noise, patting her lover's shoulder.

“Sweet mother, that is something else." Bridget remarked once the steam had died down enough to speak normally.

Marcy unsealed the pot the rest of the way, releasing a mellow aroma of chicken stock, well-stewed vegetables, and the mild seasonings she had added. “That should be good, if not better." She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and tasted the result. It needed a bit more salt, so she pinched some in and stirred a few times, tasting until it was perfect. “Nailed it." She set the lid back on the pot and turned to get dining ware for the table but Bridget was already slowly and sleepily doing so. Marcy snickered, “Thank you baby girl."

Bridget nodded with an, “Mmm hmm," and carefully set each bowl on a small plate with a spoon each. She pulled out the chairs that she'd set and then wandered into the bedroom.

Marcy followed her to make sure she was okay. She heard the bathroom door close and decided to step out for a cigarette.

She opened the front door and took a sweeping look at the fading sunset in the mostly violet sky. It doesn't feel that late. And it's summer time. Marcy shrugged as she stepped into the hallway which was now lit by a set of four little LED circles in its ceiling. The blue lights on the ground floor were on as well. Marcy opened her truck door and fished out the unfinished cigarette from last night. “Waste not," she quipped to herself.

She pinched her lighter out of the console where she'd stashed it after leaving the hostel and lit the burnt end. She took a long drag, turning most of the thing to ash in one go. She held her breath and turned her head up, constructing all that had happened that day in her head. She finally blew the smoke upward as she was thinking about their short but pleasant time on the lake. She checked her phone and saw two texts from a new number.

“It's Dane," and, “Did you two make it home okay?"

Marcy smiled, flicking through her phone with her thumb while she held the slowly burning cancer stick in the other hand. She fixed the number into a contact and replied, “Yeah, we're all good. About to have company for dinner. You?"

A little blue reply came in just as Marcy was flicking her finished stogie into the truck bed after smothering the cherry on the pavement. “Yup. Back in the dorm. Shelly took a shower and passed out. I'm gonna play some games, no summer classes for this guy."

Just as Marcy was putting her phone into her pocket, another message alert rang from her phone. She swiped the dot code in to unlock it to check. “You wanna see a wild timeline pic?"

Marcy scrolled through her own photos to find a picture that she'd made with a silly quiz website of herself in fourth grade wearing a pink and white tie-dye patterned shirt with tiny jean shorts and a bunch of flowery hair clips in her messy mop top and then in her cap and gown holding her diploma as if she were choking it and attached it to a text, “Yeah sure. Fair is fair."

Maybe thirty seconds later Dane's reply came, “Aww, lil Marcy is adorable. Me @ 13 vs me @ 22." The left side of the picture had a scrawny little wolf girl with a bushy head of curly blue hair. She was making a toothy grin and holding a pair of toy six-shooters akimbo, wearing a cowgirl costume and a cowboy hat that was adult sized on the back of her head to help it stay on. Marcy noticed she was wearing another shirt under the costume. Trying to bind her teenage bust I bet. The right photo was Dane with half his hair still brown and the other half the platinum color he'd had today. His expression was an awkward attempt to smile and frown on the corresponding colored sides of his face with his fingers helping out.

“I think you turned out great," Marcy sent back as she walked through to the other side of the building hall to greet Gabriel when he arrived.

“Thank you. Game's starting, talk to you soon." Marcy slid her phone into her pocket and leaned against the building just as a pair of bright headlights turned in from the street. They moved toward a visitor spot, parked abruptly, and then went dark.

Gabriel stepped out of his big green work truck. “Marceline! It's been forever."

Marcy chuckled and stood to slap a high-five with the equine, “Yeah, something like six hours."

Gabriel handed her a warm plastic tupperware box and then hefted the raccoon into a bridal carry effortlessly. “You carry those, I carry you. Fair?"

She settled into his arms and smirked, “Fair. What's in here?"

“Homemade madeleines. Us sized," Gabriel explained.

“Oh Hell yeah. That's the good stuff. Tell your mom I said "Bless you and good life to her."

“I will. What did you two end up getting into?" Gabriel tilted Marcy so she wouldn't hit her head on the stairwell.

“We went down to Cherry Cauldron. It was great, we made some friends, too."

The horse nodded, “Oh yeah? Sounds like a good day, then?"

Marcy reached for the door and opened it so Gabriel didn't have to finagle it. “Yeah, for sure." The mellow aroma was all through the apartment after being vented and having simmered with the lid not resealed. Both of them took a deep breath of it.

“That smells grand, Marcy. Here we go," Gabriel let her down feet first and Marcy padded into the kitchen to set down the container of baked goods.

Bridget walked out of the hallway a moment later wearing her silver pajamas. “Welcome back Gabriel. I'm sorry, Matthias. No, Cedric, right?"

Gabriel laughed and offered the pig another hug, “Aye, yes, all those. You've got a good memory, lass."

Bridget hugged Gabriel without any cheekiness and then turned away to hide a yawn, “I try. Let's eat."

“Seconded," Gabriel said, just as Marcy hefted the full pot onto the dinner table with some effort.

“Ladle out whatever you want, there should be plenty, I'll be right back," Marcy wiped her hands on her shorts and dashed off to the bathroom.

. . .

“How was your day, Gabriel?" Bridget asked as she sat down and dished herself out two ladles of the soup.

Gabriel reached into Jack's cupboards and produced a bagged loaf of bread, “Oh, just fine. Had to help mum relocate some fallen shelves and mend some tomato framers, but then the office was running just fine so I went to shoot a few games of pool at Lucky's. Ran into an old friend there and had a fine time catching up. We're due to have lunch next weekend." The horse dropped four slices into a wide toaster on the counter and pushed them down to brown. “I heard you got to see the local lake today, how'd you like it?"

“I loved it," Bridget said dreamily. “The water was so pretty and clear. Marcy told me about the cherry trees, and I'm sad they weren't there but the stone shelf was colorful to look at." Bridget blew gently across her spoonful of soup before tasting it, savoring for a bit before swallowing to continue. “We also met some people hanging out down there. Marcy got one of their numbers so we could maybe hang out again."

“Aye, she told me you made some friends. I'm so glad for you, really. I hope they're good to you and for you. And maybe you for them as well." Gabriel pinched the toast onto a paper plate, buttered one side of each and sprinkled them with garlic powder. “Soup needs bread, I think."

He held the plate out to Bridget who took a piece with a grateful nod. “Yes sir, it does. Thank you."

He nodded, ladling out soup into his chosen bowl, “Not at all lass. So, I know you had fun today, but! Did you think about coming to work with me?"

Bridget took a bite of bread and another spoon of soup. Once her mouth was clear she said, “Actually I wanted to ask you a few things before I decide on that."

Gabe split a piece of bread in half and used it to fish out some of the rice and vegetables, “Go on then," and took a large bite of it all, nodding and closing his eyes in approval.

“Is there any men your size working there that… that aren't like you?"

Gabriel fished up more ingredients with the other quarter of his toast square, shook his head to Bridget's question, and lowered the bread into his mouth. He finished chewing before answering properly, “No, no. I don't hire the brash types. We're a team, and I do my diligence to make sure we work well together. Personalities included." He scooped a couple more spoonfuls before continuing, “Biggest guy in my shop is Talim, he's a bull from Mexico. I'm taller by two inches, but he's bigger by thirty pounds. And he does have the face, he looks like a villain should. But he sings Tejano around the shop and he's a framer and a painter. Everyone else is probably your size or smaller."

“Okay. Sounds reasonable, and very welcoming." Bridget took a few more bites and waved to Marcy as she rejoined them and sat down to serve herself. “How about my next days off I come ride with you. You can introduce me to the team, see how we fit, and show me the tools and such, in case they're different to the way I did things."

Gabriel smiled, “When are your next days, then?"

“I'll call you as soon as I find out." Bridget added another ladle to her bowl.

“Aye, that's the restaurant business for you." Gabe shook his head after another bite, “I'll be glad to hear from you then."

Bridget looked at her lover, “Hey Marcy…"

The raccoon nodded as she took a piece from Gabriel's toast plate, “Yes baby girl?"

“Why does Jack have chef stuff if he's busy in the lab all the time?"

Marcy raised a brow, “Chef stuff? Oh," she giggled while stirring a corner of toast through her soup, “what he has is pretty normal. Chef stuff would be, like, a live herb garden, maybe fresh vegetables in said garden, and maybe some fresh ingredients wrapped in butcher paper."

Bridget nodded, “Ohh, okay," and went back to eating.

“How'd I do, Gabe?" Marcy gestured to the table spread, “Also thanks for the bread, I didn't think of that."

“Of course, happy to help. You did great, lass. A lovely down-home comfort dish." He patted her shoulder softly and took the fourth piece of toast.

Marcy sighed and smiled to herself, “Yeah," and got to having her dinner.

The rest of the evening was quiet and filled with love. Most of the soup was gone by the time everyone got up from the table. Gabriel and Bridget cleared the dishes. Gabe rinsed them and set them into the dishwasher for a cycle. Marcy opened the box of madeleines and handed two to Bridget, taking two for herself. Gabriel dried his hands and took three before wandering over to the couch. He had changed out of his work clothes before meeting the girls for dinner so he dropped himself onto a cushion guilt free.

Bridget took a small bite of her dessert first. A moment later she pretty much stuffed the whole thing into her mouth with a slightly erotic groan. Marcy and Gabe shared a laugh about her expression. The trio spent the rest of the time sharing their stories and a few jokes, not an ounce of guilt or pain weighed on a soul in the apartment. The light stayed on until almost eleven at night, when Gabriel finally checked his watch and decided he'd need to get some rest for work.

Marcy and Bridget hugged him in turn. He opened the door and turned for a little wave, which they returned.

“I'll be seeing more of you, right? A fixture, you said." Gabriel held Marcy's gaze with his own.

She smiled and nodded once. “You will. It's a promise."

Bridget hugged her arms under Marcy's and laid her head on top of the raccoon's right shoulder. “Don't be a stranger, Gabriel," she sleepily offered.

“I'll do my best. Good night, lassies." With that he let the door close quietly behind him and walked away.

“You were right," Bridget added, another yawn escaping her. “He is lovely."

“Yeah," Marcy agreed, “he really is."

“And he does dishes." The pair laughed at Bridget's quip. “Come on. Let's get into that bed. We had a full day."

“I," Marcy announced with a hand on her chest, “am going to shower first."

“Okay babe," Bridget fought another yawn. “I'll take one in the morning."

Marcy turned herself around inside Bridget's hold. “Are you suuure?" The raccoon walked her fingers up Bridget's neck to lay her palm against the pig's cheek.

Bridget closed her eyes and smiled, “Is this an invitation?"

“Yes."

Bridget tilted her head and then slowly stepped away with a smile, “Okay. Lead on."

Marcy took Bridget by the hands and walked backward toward the hall. She turned them right instead of left, and backed into the door there to open it. Inside was another room that was noticeably smaller than the master bedroom but still held a queen size bed in its far corner with more than enough floor space aside from that. There was a second side door in the room that led to a space that would be just behind the hall. Marcy backed into it, wearing a coy smile the whole time. Inside was another bathroom, this one smaller and tiled instead of carpeted like Jack's. The toilet was smaller and normal with a tank and all. The sink was a tiny freestanding basin in the corner right by the door. The whole back wall was a standing shower. Its shelves and cutouts were filled with Marcy's hygiene products. The tiles were stark white hexagons with a deep azure or bright sky blue piece placed sporadically. The showerhead was attached to a hose and rested in a fitted holder near the left side. The door had a long metal bar across it. Marcy kept stepping backward until she bumped open the shower with her hind end.

“People usually undress first," Bridget pointed out, standing over the threshold of the shower.

“I know," the raccoon cooed, walking further into the shower so Bridget could join her.

The tile was dry and the room smelled of mild soap and orange. Bridget stood in the shower fully and let the door shut on its own. Marcy let go of Bridget's hands and raised her own straight above her head. “Little help?"

The pig rolled her eyes and couldn't help but smile. She lifted the black tank top by its hem until it passed over her lover's hands. Bridget tossed it over the artfully cracked glass wall and then ran her fingers down Marcy's arms to her shoulders, leaning into a tender kiss to the raccoon's lips. Marcy returned the favor, unbuttoning Bridget's silver top slowly, briefly breaking and returning to their kiss each time a button came undone. Bridget lowered each shoulder in turn so Marcy could remove the article from her and toss it to create a pile of clothes outside the glass.

The raccoon kissed down Bridget's jawline, brushing her lips down her lover's neck with a lightly suckling kiss on her collarbone. Marcy knelt down to patiently shimmy down the pajama pants around Bridget's waist and ass.

Bridget giggled, stepping her legs when appropriate to help. She clenched her thighs together out of habit. Marcy stood back up, tossing the pants out with one hand and untying the waist cord on her shorts. Bridget slid her fingers into the waistband only for the shorts to fall on their own. “Aww…"

“Sorry baby girl. I was chubby in highschool." Marcy shrugged, pinching up the shorts between her toes and offering them to Bridget to toss.

Bridget balled up the shorts and added them to the pile, both of them now nude before the other. Marcy reached out to tenderly caress Bridget's bosom which sported a few yellowed bruises from her fierce attentions earlier that day. Bridget never winced; the marks weren't even sore. She reached back for the tap, but Marcy put a hand on her shoulder, “Not yet…"

Bridget turned back and took Marcy's hands in hers, asking softly, “Something on your mind?"

Marcy shook her head and closed the distance between them to embrace Bridget, nuzzling into her neck. “Just this. Just us. Just a little moment that means everything to me right now."

Bridget wrapped her arms around her lover at the shoulders and ran her hands up and down her arms where they could reach. She felt Marcy's body jerk, like a sob. “Babe…" she cooed softly, laying her head on top of Marcy's.

The raccoon's voice broke just a little, “I'm okay. I'm okay. It's not a bad cry… I swear."

Bridget nodded against her lover's head and swayed them gently. Marcy gave a light laugh against another sob. The raccoon sniffed, “This must seem so weird."

“Weird doesn't mean bad," Bridget said quietly.

Marcy nodded, holding Bridget tighter. They kept hold of each other for a good long moment. Bridget couldn't fight off a shiver from the cold of the tiled room. Marcy loosened up and stepped back, running her fingers over Bridget's goosebump-covered skin, “Thank you baby girl… I'm sorry, let's get some warm water going for you."

Bridget let out a breath and another shiver, “Oh sweet mercy, thank you. I was fighting that for a while."

Marcy laughed and took hold of the showerhead, twisting the tap just left of center toward the hot side. “Sorry baby. Warm incoming, okay?"

“Yeah." Bridget reached out and held Marcy's shoulders, flexing her fingers gently into the flesh. Marcy sucked in a breath and went rigid. Bridget stepped forward to push her hands over Marcy's body instead, interlacing her fingers and resting them in the center of Marcy's chest. The raccoon slowly blew out the air, testing the water temperature on her leg and adjusting it a bit more toward the inscribed H.

“Will you… do that some more? Just… really softly?" Marcy looked over her shoulder at Bridget.

The pig slowly took the showerhead and put it back in its bracket, spraying warm water over the pair of them. Bridget closed her eyes and sighed at the sensation sending waves of warmth through her. She ran her hands up Marcy's arms to her shoulders again, this time keeping their bodies touching. She worked her fingers up and down gently, barely pushing past the fur. Marcy sighed, relaxing into Bridget's body and enjoying the water streaming down them both. Bridget slowly added pressure to her finger's work until Marcy held up a hand and squeaked a protest. Bridget kept just beneath that pressure and pace, moving up to the base of Marcy's neck and down to her biceps. “Sensitive? Ticklish?"

“Joice," came the flat explanation.

Bridget just nodded and kept going for a few minutes. Marcy tilted her head back and Bridget leaned forward for a quick kiss. Marcy sighed as Bridget stood up again and took her hands away to select body wash from among Marcy's bottles. The pig lathered up her hands and beckoned Marcy out of the stream of water. The raccoon followed and Bridget set to work lathering her hands through Marcy's fur. The soap smelled of ginger and nutmeg. Bridget smirked each time she ran her palms and fingers over Marcy's breasts, making sure to do so every time she crossed them. The raccoon rolled her eyes and put her hands on her soapy hips with a snarky, “Mmm hmm," and a giggle the third time Bridget fondled her. “Okay, okay, my turn yeah," Marcy waved her hands, flinging a bit of soap as she stepped into the water and rubbed her own fingers through her fur to wash everything off.

Marcy reached behind Bridget to the far wall and picked up Bridget's bar soap. Bridget raised a brow, “When did you put that in here?"

“While you were getting dinner set out for me. I'm sneaky," Marcy imitated a cartoonish bandit pose for a moment before taking hold of Bridget's hips to swap positions with her. Bridget just stood there, following Marcy's push and pull to get her body good and wet. Marcy wet the soap and ran it across the pig's soft skin, her free hand mirroring the soap's path. Marcy swapped the bar to her other hand and went across Bridget's body again, eventually kneeling down to get both of her legs too. She lifted Bridget's feet one after the other and cleaned them as well. She held Bridget's left foot for a long moment. Bridget gave a small, “Hmm," while watching Marcy. The raccoon leaned down and kissed the bridge of her foot.

Bridget giggled, “What are you doing?"

“Reframing," Marcy said softly, letting down the left foot and picking up the right again. She placed another gentle kiss on the top of Bridget's foot right where the leg became foot. The raccoon stood up slowly, keeping her balance with her hands on Bridget's body. “Joice used to make me do this in front of her friends… A small part of me likes doing it. I… I want that feeling back without the- the bullshit."

Bridget nodded, “I see. Okay babe." The pig turned to the shelf of bottles, “Are you going to wash your hair?"

“I probably should," Marcy admitted with a hand to her chin.

Bridget ran her fingers through Marcy's wet hair. “It's not too bad. Your call."

Marcy picked up her shampoo and handed the bottle to Bridget with a cheeky smile. Bridget rolled her eyes and took the bottle, flipped open the cap and squeezed out enough for Marcy's short mane. “Found something you like?"

Marcy nodded and turned around. Bridget lathered up the soap again, this one smelled strongly of peach and something equally sweet that she couldn't place. The bottle said it was mango. She ran her hands through Marcy's hair thoroughly. The pig rinsed her hands and turned the raccoon around gently by her shoulders, running her fingers through her lover's short hair to get all the soap washed out of it. Marcy acted out a shiver only to be overtaken by a real one a moment later.

“Sit sit. Your turn," Marcy said.

Bridget did as she was bade, tilting her head down to hide another smirk brought on by Marcy giving commands. Marcy squeezed a small circle of soap into her hand, lathered it up between her palms, and slowly worked her way through Bridget's curls with her fingers. The pig sighed a few times, holding her legs for balance as she kept her head back. Marcy took a lot more time, closer to five minutes, before she rinsed her hands and reached up for the showerhead. She clicked the spray selector to a softer spread of the stream and ran it up and down Bridget's head and neck. Marcy paced the water back and forth down Bridget's back to get all the bubbles off and beckoned her up by the shoulders before tip-toeing up to put the showerhead back.

Bridget shook her head to clear water from her curls and reached back for her conditioner. She applied it herself as Marcy tended to the pads of her feet.

The raccoon looked up for a moment to ask, “How was that?"

“It was lovely, thank you. How'd I do?"

Marcy scrubbed her feet as she rinsed them without looking, “Amazing."

Bridget just smiled down at her lover. She eased herself down onto a little back corner that was probably supposed to be another shelf but was just big enough to sit on. The tile walls were colder than her skin but Bridget didn't mind. She laid her head back and took in a long, slow breath. Something felt right in that moment in the same way things had felt right almost every time her and Marcy just shared their company. Bridget rose from the corner bit and stepped over to Marcy to wrap her up in another hug at the waist. The raccoon nuzzled in between Bridget's bust with a giggle, curling her wet tail around Bridget's back.

Marcy raised her head so she was looking into Bridget's eyes, “Something on your mind, baby girl?"

“Something felt right. Just had to share." Bridget gently turned them both to and fro, with little shuffling steps to get them into the water so she could finally wash out her conditioner. Marcy reached up to help make sure the wash was good.

They both stood like that for long enough that the water started to feel room temperature instead of pleasantly warmed. “Time to get out," Marcy said, wriggling herself out of Bridget's hug. But Bridget held tighter with a cheeky grin. “Please…"

The pig released the raccoon with a kiss to the top of her head, “Okay, okay. I almost forgot, but I didn't."

Marcy shrugged and turned the water off, “It's all good." She sighed and opened the door to reach for a towel off the wall rack. She handed the first one to Bridget and stepped out to run the second one all over herself. Bridget dried off her body upwards and then wrapped the towel to her head. Marcy gathered up their clothes and offered Bridget her pajamas back.

Bridget chimed, “Thank you…" and then almost whispered, “love."

Marcy bent over to retrieve her things and Bridget caressed her damp behind. Marcy stayed bent and backed into Bridget, turning her head back with a smirk, “Oh?" The raccoon shook her hips, “Go on then. Cop a good feel. We're alone." Bridget gave both cheeks another smooth caress and raised her right hand a fair ways back. Marcy quirked her brows in jest, “Do it."

Bridget brought her arm forward to give slightly more than a love tap to Marcy's presented ass cheek.

The raccoon scoffed and gave a more pronounced wave of her hips, “Do it," she urged, her tone imitating the love-drunk dom from earlier that day but not quite the same.

Bridget raised her hand again. This time she asked, “Are you sure?"

Marcy nodded and bent her knees just a bit.

Bridget tilted her head to say, “Alright…" and her arm came down with a purposeful swat this time. Her hand made a good, strong slap against the soft flesh beneath freshly-showered fur and Marcy's squeal almost instantly melted into a moan. “Ahhmmmmmuh… Make it even…"

Bridget gave two readying pats to the left cheek and brought down another strong smack. Marcy's knees buckled a bit and she shuffled her legs together, her toes curling. “Mmmmm… Yes baby girl. That's the stuff."

Bridget rubbed her lover's swatted cheeks gently. “I don't get the appeal…" she admitted.

Marcy stood up again with her clothes balled up in one hand and placed a kiss on her lover's jawline. “You know, I don't think I could truly explain it. I like being spanked. The pain fades into tingling fairly quickly when done right. And yes, you did right."

“Ah. Good enough for me." Bridget pulled a leg into her pajama pants, “I'll be out in a minute. Bed time?"

“Most likely," Marcy confirmed. “I'll be waiting…" she cooed as she pulled the door to upon leaving.

It didn't take Bridget long to get dressed. She stepped down the hall toward the bedroom and found Marcy crawling under the comforter. Bridget lifted the other corner and laid down beside her. Bridget hugged Marcy and shared a few tender kisses with her. “Breakfast again or no?"

Marcy nodded, “Yeah, I can do something simple." She craned her neck to kiss Bridget's forehead and nose, “Good night. I love you."

Bridget rolled over to face the raccoon and smiled softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of one hand. “I love you too."