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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 10 of 29

_ Constant Interruptions _

"_You know, Alora," Abby started, grabbing a glass and drying it out with a towel, ready for use, "I think the house should get a commission, you know, like a percentage of every..." She paused, mentally trying to pick the right word she was looking for. "... every '_tip' you make."

The slender, athletic bunny girl, who had a body that rivaled most porn stars, only with a cute face to boot, smiled at Abby's words. The fiery little waitress knew she was a knockout with her perfectly white fur and matching hair that hung down her shoulders. And Alora worked all this to her advantage. Since her first day, Abby had bitched about what they had to wear, but she wasn't stupid. There was no doubt in Abby's mind that Alora made a killing doing what she did. Abby never asked how she got her excessively large tips, because it wasn't any of her business. It was more of a "don't ask, don't tell" situation. She showed up every day for work and that was good enough for Abby. It was girls like Alora and others who came before her who made the Delirium outfit infamous. If there were such things as tourist attractions in The Underground, Abby guessed Delirium would probably be one. Abby's only problem with the little floozy was that she spent more time on her back than on her feet!

"Orrrr..." The deceptively innocent hare replied, long eyelashes batting. "You can just be grateful for how many guys come back just to get drunk and see me like a good employer would, right?"

_"_What?" Abby asked dryly, resting her chin on her palm, looking up at her. "You think you're the only girl I can find who doesn't mind hiking up her skirt every once in awhile?"

"Abby..." Alora's smile faltered, but quickly righted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmhmm." Abby replied rolling her eyes. A thin lipped smile on her muzzle as she continued to stack glasses in an orderly fashion. "And if I talked to, say... Günther Blum, or Tyler Hobbs, or Roman Grey, I'm sure they wouldn't either..."

"That's right!" Alora puffed dignified, the white bunny nodding her agreement. "We're all friends... really close friends."

Abby couldn't keep from laughing. "Which one is it tonight?"

She giggled. "Why? You gonna try and talk me out of it or somethin'?"

However, the feline casually shook her head. "No." She replied without a care. "I want to play the 'Profession' game."

Turning around, one foot propped up on the side of Abby's bar, Alora looked out into the madness of Delirium. "You know the rules, you get three questions, then you guess."

Start with the basics. Abby thought. "Is it illegal, fundamentally illegal."

"Yes. That's one." Alora nodding, looking confident as she showcased her body.

"You grow it or make it?"

"Neither. That's two." She continued, spinning around, leaning over on the bar and raising and eyebrow.

"Buying or selling?" Abby came back, cocking her head to the side.

"Both probably."

Abby pondered for a moment, thinking of some of the people she'd noticed in Delirium tonight. "I'm running with a drug dealer; someone's middle man this time."

"Nah." She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. "They're usually users, I swore them off a long time ago."

"Yeah..." Abby muttered, drying her paws with a towel. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"No really! He's some kind of roughneck group leader or something. Tall, green gecko... gorgeous eyes..."

"Down girl." Abby replied through stifled laugher as Alora winked at her, then pushed off the bar, walking back into the crowd. That girl was walking libido. Shaking her head in amused exasperation, Abby took a step to turn around, but met a living wall. Gasping slightly and retreating back against the bar, she looked up to see a familiar face.

His expression when she jumped was equal shock, taking a step backwards in that brief second. He stood there looking confused as if he wasn't sure if he had done something wrong or not. Embarrassed by the fact she had overreacted, Abby suddenly saw herself in third person and how he hadn't been expecting such a reaction. The confused expression he wore was even funnier.

Before he could even say anything, she was overcome with laughter, paws clamping over her muzzle as she felt the growing heat under her skin, still a bit embarrassed. "Jesus, Mick!" She spoke after a moment, heart recovering from the jolt of adrenaline she had felt. "That's twice now! What the hell are you doing behind my bar?" She asked as her laugh subsided.

Mick had finally gotten over his shock, nearly having slipped and fallen backwards when she had yelped in surprise.

With disheveled gelled hair and a smooth smile, the mink slowly walked over to her. "Someone's a little high strung!"

"Well, master creeper, you're the one who's always popping up behind me!" Smiling she brushed her cinnamon bangs aside and slowly brushed past him.

Mick strolled casually behind her, smiling. "Hey now! Some girls don't have anyone creeping after them. Feel privileged!"

Abby let out a laugh, moving to the stockroom for another bottle of whiskey. "So, I guess I should be thanking you or something?" She asked facetiously, using her keys to open the locked door and enter.

As Abby entered the room, her eyes searched for the crate with the desired alcohol, hearing Mick casually shut the door behind them. The calico let out a squeal of surprise as two arms locked around her bare midriff, pulling her body back into Mick's.

"Mi-ck..." Abby warned in a light tone, feeling his lips press gently against the nape of her neck. "Come on..." She whined without sincerity. "I have a shift to finish..."

"Abby Thrace; what keeps Delirium from going under." He teased, his fingers starting to explore her warm body, stroking her fur under his touch. "You're telling me there's no one around who can keep this place afloat for ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes, huh?" Abby laughed, slowly rotating around, Mick's arms still around her waist. "Not giving me great incentive..." She continued, words saturated in sarcasm.

Slowly, Mick moved down, lips tracing from her jaw-line, down her neck, and over her shoulder while his hands moved slowly up her exposed back to her top, fingers tugging at it.

"I suppose I could bump it up to twenty..." His deep voice reverberated through his chest into her own; his voice almost shaking her slender, toned body. "You know... if you make it worth my while..." Head now level with hers, their foreheads connected, noses bumping against each others lightly. Abby slowly moved her paws to the side of his face, thumbs gently caressing against his cheeks as they held each other.

"Mick Stallard!" She teased. "When have I ever not made it "worth your while"?" She asked, suspended smile on her muzzle. "Haven't seen you in a few days." She whispered.

"Busy; this whole thing with Isis..." Mick replied nodding. "Jenna's filled you in right?"

She nodded in return, foreheads rubbing together. "Sucks..." She stated bluntly.

"You ain't shittin'..." Mick scoffed. "I've been meaning to drop by-"

Hearing him start to explain, she moved a finger to his lips silencing them. "Quit while you're ahead. Excuses just get lame."

"No, really!" Mick persisted, kissing and pushing her finger away with his mouth. "It's just Isis has been..." Abby watched as Mick searched for the appropriate word, "demanding, lately."

Slowly, his hands made moved beneath the back of her top, moving between her shoulder blades; an area otherwise inaccessible. Without even realizing, Abby let out a slight moan as her eyes rolled shut; Mick's hands working their magic across her body.

"All I can say..." Abby spoke, breathing increasingly choppy. "Is you better finish what you've started here!"

Without another word, her paws were at the bottom of his dress shirt, pulling it frantically from his dark jeans where Mick had tucked it in. As Mick leaned in, her paw snapped to his mouth, covering it. "Thirty minutes! Not one second less!" Abby stated bluntly, looking dead into his brown eyes.

The mink pressed his lips against her hand, as his own slid across hers, pulling her whole arm around his neck. "Hell, why rush things? Why not go the distance?" His quieted voice hissed at her erotically.

"Because I'm working... I get paid to tend bar..." Abby giggled as Mick's hands began wandering a bit further south. "My job is a little different than Alora's..."

"Jenna's on the floor, isn't she?" Mick whispered, teeth nipping lightly at her ear, causing Abby to shiver. "She's like your protege or something... Surely you've trained her where she can survive on her own?"

Abby laughed out loud at this. "A little ball of energy is what that girl is!" Her fingers began slowly working the long series of buttons down the front of his shirt, undoing them. "Besides... I think she's on break."

"She'll be fine." Mick quickly concluded, trying to get her mind off work. "You stress too much."

Goosebumps were suddenly forming across her body as Mick's hands continued to explore her, stroking gently across her bare abdomen. "Yeah... Kind of how this all started... remember?"

"Oh yeah..." Mick chuckled, hardly breaking his contact with her. "I was there..."

There came a metallic rattling from the door causing Abby's ears to prick straight upward like little radars. Mentally, she quickly identified what she was hearing as the lock on the stock room's door disengaged. Realizing someone was coming in, interrupting her and Mick's secret little rendezvous, her paws met Mick's shoulders, shoving him away from her and reaching into the nearest open box.

Eyes snapping open, Mick about fell backwards at her shove, but quickly composed himself as he turned to see the door opening; Alias in the threshold.

"Hey Abbs, you haven't seen-" Alias paused, eyes darting from Abby to Mick. "Mick?" He asked, face contorting in confusion. "What are you doing back here?"

"I..." Mick stammered, blank look on his face. "I was...

"Helping me find something." Abby finished quickly, letting out a nervous laugh. "I'd been trying to figure out what I'd done with the..." She explained pulling out whatever was in the box she had randomly reached into, eyes falling on the label of the plastic container. "Grape... soda..."

Alias shook his head, oblivious to what he'd just walked in on. "Yeah, glad you found it." He replied sounding like an automated machine speaking too fast. "Have you seen Jenna?"

Her arm holding the two liter bottle swung over, crashing into Mick's chest and dropping the bottle in his arms. He caught it, looking rather surprised. "Um... yeah, a few minutes ago, she's on break somewhere on the floor."

"Right, thanks." Alias nodded, then turned to Mick. "Hey, polish off your charm. Your girl Isis is on her way. And just so there's no confusion," Alias emphasized, taking on a mock serious tone, "don't mention anything about what we're doing, or the fact that you pissed off an OCB operative because you're bangin' her, alright?" He asked, not waiting for a response as he pulled the door shut.

Abby's eyes moved to Mick who stood there looking very guilty.

"...thank you very much, Alias!" He called out to the closed door.

Alias's words hit Abby like tiny ice cubes. Given, it's not like she expected any kind of fidelity on his end, and she knew the same was for him with her. Still... he could at least tell her if he was double-dipping; seeing someone else. It was just a common courtesy. A decency issue.

Abby remained silent, still feeling the sensation of his arms around her back, his fingers slowly running through her fur of silk, like that of a ghost who wouldn't let her be. Mouth closed, the calico just didn't feel like saying anything. Honestly, there really wasn't much to say. It was just the way things were. It was The Underground.

Slowly Mick walked around where her back was still to him. "You want me to go?" He asked softly, lips finding her lowered ear.

Abby shook her head. She really didn't. This whole situation just... sucked.

"You want me to stay?" He whispered again, to which she nodded. She did.

Silence was left between the two as Abby stood there, arms folded across her chest. Mood officially killed, Abby tried to remember why she was back here to begin with. Apparently, people weren't the only thing Alias could assassinate. Slowly she moved to the back of the stockroom, opening a box, and pulling out a new bottle of whiskey.

"I need to get back..." She said aloud, turning around seeing Mick not far from her. "People need their whiskey."

"Abby, wait." Mick started, moving in front of her. "Isis was business... that's all."

The calico nodded slightly. "Business..." Abby repeated quietly to herself. No better way of putting it really. She cleared her throat, hand subconsciously brushing her bangs from her face. "And that's how business is done around here. I know." She replied with a forced smile, stepping around him. "Why not..." She muttered, shrugging. "Even Jenna has her doxie on the side with Otto these days."

"Whoa!" Mick said loudly in alarm, again moving in front of her. "Dachshund? Otto who?"

Abby scowled, not understanding the sudden reaction. "Frihe." She explained, scowling in confusion. "The little guy that comes in here a lot, she's talking with him right now. I think he has a thing for her."

"Otto Frihe's here?" Mick nearly shouted, looking like something was about to go very wrong. "Does Alias know?" He asked desperately.

"I... I don't know!" Abby shrugged, trying to figure out what the problem was. "What's the big deal? The Nine aren't going to start anything here."

Suddenly, Mick's paws snapped to his head, facepalming. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Do you know what this means?"

"No... and the name's Abby actually." She quipped smartly.

"It means you're about to have a dead doxie in your club!" Mick shouted, quickly moving to the door, nearly ripping it off it's hinges as he tore out of the stockroom.

Abby was left utterly confused, trying to make heads or tails out of anything that had just happened in the last five minutes. With the whiskey bottle still in one paw, the attractive calico spun it in her palm, shaking her head. Apparently, something was about to go down. Abby sighed in multiple layers of frustration; this was just what she needed. More assholes in Delirium that she'd have to deal with. Typical. Pulling her ponytail holder from her head, she quickly redid her hair where Mick's fingers had messed it up. Only a guy would blow out the door on a girl like that.

Damn you, Michael Stallard...