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_ "Look man, I'm gonna warn you just one time. Next time I warn you, I'm gonna use my gun." _ - John Lee Hooker "I'm Bad, Like Jesse James"

Tossing and turning in the bed, Karen awoke to the smell of fried eggs and meat. Lifting her head up, she saw Arthur walking into the bedroom, carrying a plate in his paws. Karen, sore from the beating she'd suffered the day before, was nonetheless delighted to see the squirrel bringing her breakfast. He sat down on the bed next to her, offering her the food.

"Morning, gorgeous," he said.

She lowered her head. "I doubt I look gorgeous after yesterday."

He brushed a paw over her head. "Don't say that," he said softly. "Those cuts and bruises will heal. You'll see."

She looked closer at the plate. He had made her an egg and ham omelet with hash browns. Taking the fork on the plate, she cut a slice off and tried it. "This . . . this is wonderful, Arthur. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

He laughed. "Just learned to cook on my own. It's kind of a necessity when you live by yourself. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," she said in between bites. The vixen had not eaten in almost a day. She had been in such pain the day before that the thought of consuming food was enough to make her gag. Arthur had made one of her favorite breakfast items. She quickly gobbled it down, afterward thinking that she probably had displayed terrible manners when eating. Cleaning her plate, she handed it back to the squirrel.

"Do you want more?" he said, not at all offended by how quickly she'd eatn.

"I don't want you to go to any trouble," she said.

"Nonsense," he responded, standing up. "You're my girl now. I'm happy to do it for you."

"Thank you," she said. "I actually would like more if that's okay."

"Perfectly," he said, getting up and leaving the room.

Karen laid back down on the bed. She looked around the room, thinking that she must be dreaming, staying in such a splendid house as this. The room was adorned with tasteful oil paintings, decorative rugs and a huge television facing the bed. The temperature was just perfect inside; not to hot or too cold. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of Arthur preparing her more food in the kitchen. She thought for a fleeting moment that it might all be some splendid dream; that it could all end in a split second. She shivered, thinking about the possibility of waking up next to the boorish, abusive Troy, but then she remembered last night, going to the hospital and seeing him entering when she and Arthur were leaving. She remembered the look of horror on the wolf' face as her new boyfriend stared him down. She had to admit, it gave her a sense of satisfaction to see that bastard recoil in fear. She meditated on that for a moment, realizing that the wolf would never bother her again.

"Here you go, baby," said Arthur, returning with another omelet and side of hash browns. "Hope it's as good as the first serving."

She took the first bite of the second helping. Indeed it was just as good. Her belly was fuller by that point, so she was able to control herself as she ate, displaying a more refined, ladylike manner when she ate. Arthur smiled at her as she ate.

"I'm glad you like my cooking," he said.

"I love it," she said, nibbling on the side of hash browns. "I have one question though: How am I going to get to work tomorrow? I think it's too far for my girlfriend to pick me up from here."

The squirrel shook his head. "You don't have to go to work tomorrow."

She was puzzled at his statement. "Why? Did you call the beauty shop and tell them what happened? Did they give me the day off?"

"No," he replied. "I mean, you don't have to go to work anymore if you don't want to."

In the middle of stabbing the last chunk of omelet, she paused. "What? You mean I . . ."

He stroked her ears. "I mean you don't have to work anymore if you don't want to. Trust me, I make plenty of money at my job to support us. I'd be happier if you did what you wanted."

The words were unreal to her. She had been forced into a position of working herself to the bone to support Troy, especially after he'd been booted from Fatalistic Outlook. She recalled all the times they were late paying bills, all the times when she barely had enough money to buy groceries for the two of them. Now, here was Arthur telling her that she didn't have to work. She teared up, wiping her paws over her face.

"Arthur," she said, sniffling, grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand. "You really, really mean that?"

"Sure do," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "What I care about more than anything is your happiness. So if you want to work, don't want to work. That's fine by me. It's your choice."

"I . . ." she said, stopping herself. "I don't want to be a free loader."

"It's not free loading when you love the person," he said. "What is it that you want to do?"

"I wouldn't mind staying home," she said. "That is if it's alright with you."

He laughed at her behavior. "Of course it is. "You feeling better today?"

She put her unfinished food down on the nightstand. "I'd feel better if you got back in bed with me."

"I like that idea," he said, taking his shirt, pants and underwear off his lean body. He crawled into bed with her, feeling her young, supple body press against his. She nuzzled the middle aged squirrel underneath his chin, closing her eyes as she had never been so happy in all her life. Arthur was . . . so different than Troy. Sure, there had been love at one point with the wolf . . or had there? She thought back to those times, those years with Troy, and came to the realization that it must have been youthful infatuation that had taken her in. Troy had been fun . . . at one point, but he had never demonstrated the maturity, grace and caring that Arthur had. Lying on their sides, they gazed into each others eyes. Where another male might have seen the swollen face of a battered vixen, Arthur saw only beauty in Karen. She snuggled up against her squirrel tightly, not wanting him to ever go away. Even being in his presence, the pain from her wounds seemed to diminish.

"Please make love to me, Arthur," she whispered in the squirrel's ear.

Arthur mounted his vixen, but was still mindful of her injuries. Just like the night before, their lovemaking was tender, sweet and slow. Karen didn't care at all about her wounds as the squirrel took her, gently suckling on her nipples as he moved in and out of her honey pot. She couldn't get enough of Arthur; her rescuer, her true love. All other thoughts in her mind vanished. She wasn't concerned about what had happened last night, the past three years with Troy, or even the fifty grand that her ex-boyfriend had pissed away on a failed music career, booze and gambling. Their souls were locked together in the act of lovemaking. The dazzling effect that the squirrel's rod had on her was breathtaking, driving her nearer to her climax. She gave a long, drawn out moan as she climaxed, feeling Arthur's seed blast inside her folds as their orgasms coincided. Still in her, Arthur planted a kiss on the vixen's mouth.

"Would you want to go bathe with me now?" he asked, licking at her bruised face.

"Love to," said Karen.

The larger bathroom in Arthur's house had a tub that was large enough to fit both of them with ease. Arthur washed her fur, cleaning off the past day's grime and sweat. The hot water and soft touch of the squirrel was just what she needed. She sighed contentedly as the luffa sponge in his paws scrubbed away at her.

"Karen, once you feel up to it, would you like to meet my family?" asked Arthur.

"I would," she said. "What family members?"

"There's my Mom and Dad, my sister, my younger brother, plus my nieces and nephews. They'll be delighted to me you."

"Really?" she said, sitting down on the seat in the tub. "Which nephew is it that bought Troy's old bass?"

"Gary," said Arthur. "I think you'll really like him. He's a good kid, very polite. He'll be thrilled to see what I bought him for his sixteenth birthday." A thought entered Arthur's mind. "That bass . . . seeing it won't trigger any bad memories, will it?"

"I'll be fine," said Karen, kissing him. "If it wasn't for that bass, you and I would probably have never met, and I think you must be the best uncle for spending that kind of money on your nephew."

"I hope I can be as good of a boyfriend, too," said the squirrel.

Karen muzzled her squirrel. "I think you'll do just fine. You rescued me from a drunken, crazy wolf, beat the shit out of him and now you're telling me that I can just stay home if I want. I don't think there are too many guys like you in the world, Arthur."

"I still feel kind of dirty . . . about the paying for you know."

"Arthur," said the vixen. "It's okay. I don't regret anything. Besides, I'll be happy to be your whore now."

Arthur shook his head. "Oh, please don't talk about yourself like that, Karen. You're no whore. You're a sweet, lovely girl and you've made me the happiest, luckiest guy in the world right now. You're my queen."

"Ah," she said giggling. "Glad to hear that . . . King Arthur."

Arthur smiled at his vixen. "Kinda like the sound of that, though we'll reign jointly, okay?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said Karen.

After their bath together, Arthur took the vixen on a tour of his house. She wasn't surprised at all to see the number of martial arts trophies the squirrel had adorning the shelves in his office. After the severe ass kicking Troy had received yesterday, she wondered what might happen if the wolf ever did try to confront them again. She was fairly certain that the look of fright on the wolf's face at the hospital last night was a good indication that he knew better. Besides, he had no idea what Arthur's name was or where he lived. Still, the thought of what he would do if he was ever crazy enough to try it made her nervous.

"I'm still scared of Troy," said the vixen, putting her arms around Arthur. "What if he hunts us down? What if I'm home alone and you're not here to stop him?"

Arthur opened a drawer in his computer desk. Karen flinched at what he presented to her. There in the squirrel's paws was a gun, a large gun to be precise.

"Have you ever handled one of these?" he said, keeping the barrel pointed away from both of them.

"No," said the vixen, shaking her head. "My mom and dad . . . we never had guns around the house."

Arthur opened the cylinder of the revolver, performing a safety check to make sure it wasn't loaded. Empty, he closed the cylinder back into the gun, still keeping the muzzle pointed in a safe direction and keeping his paws on the trigger guard. "This is a .44 Magnum, Karen. It's a very powerful gun. If Troy is ever dumb enough to come after you, I'd wager that all you would have to do is point this at him and he'll turn tail and run."

"And if he doesn't?" asked Karen, knowing the answer already.

"Then you don't hesitate to blow him away. I want to make sure that you're comfortable with this before I teach you to shoot; that is, if you want to learn."

She nodded, though weakly. "I do. I'm just kind of scared of that gun right now."

"That's perfectly understandable if you've never been around one," said Arthur, putting the gun back in the drawer. He rubbed the vixen's back. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, Karen. You're . . . you're the most important thing in my life, ever."

Karen looked over at the desk drawer. "Could . . . could I hold the gun?"

Arthur shook his head. "I think you're too nervous right now. I'm very big on gun safety, and bad things can happen if you're not confident enough to handle one. Give it time, Karen. I'm sure if we give it some time, you'll be ready to try it, but we should give it time. Okay?"

She listened to his voice, there was no bossiness or demand in it. He was softly telling her what she realized was probably a good idea. Arthur was a wise squirrel, and she felt safe and secure around him. He had a quiet, unassuming air of confidence about him, but most would never know that he was capable of defending himself, and the beasts he cared about. She couldn't help but smile, thinking about what would happen if Troy was ever stupid enough to show up at their house. She didn't know much at all about guns, but she was pretty sure that big revolver of Arthur's would take care of him, permanently.