Where Minds Lay: Temporal Spectrum Part 2
#3 of Where Minds Lay
--I suggest for those new to the series that they start from the beginning, Where Minds Lay. Hope everyone else likes this. The next will be very promising. It unveils the "secret promise".--
Where Minds Lay:
Temporal Spectrum Part 2
Fred doesn't waste anytime during my secret aftermath of recovering from a serious trip episode outside. He finds me, without Adam's help of course, through the dense wave of bodies, heads, furniture, and waiters. He lets me know that I need to be in the "Rear Rooms" in a few minutes. I already have a customer waiting for me.
I simply nod, ignoring his accusing gaze and the speculations about where I could have been. I go back to the dressing room and put on a little more make up. Then I slip out of my "wear around" clothes, and put on a pair of yellow latex leggings. The slick glossy material hugs tight, bulging out the shape of my calves and thigh muscles in glistening detail. I take a long, stretching single step on to the waist-high table. The mirror reflects me and my long yellow glossy leg back into my eyes which are rimmed with glittering green and silver. I think of the next piece and decide on a matching thong that delicately covers my junk, and the band disappears between my buttocks. It's a "friendly" feeling.
I top it all off with a t-shirt that looks like it had been professionally cut to not fit me, similar to everything else in my wardrobe but different. This shirt sits loosely on my chest, but the bottom stops covering me right below my nipples and the arms barely go past the shoulders. It keeps me warm and slutty and helps me to fit in this place.
Room 23 is my next stop. I pass a few coworkers and give a wave and a wink to a customer who stares. I finally stand at the front door, gathering myself and a breath before going inside.
I push open the door, the inside lit very poorly except for the burning pinkish-red light bulb. It takes a while to register who the canine is. Then when I shut the door, I see the red coat and the broad shoulders framing a sizable build. The wolf smiles to my entrance, his arms draped over the sofa's back. I smile for the corner of my muzzle and sit a paw on my hip.
"You like what you see?" His eyes observe me. He shows interest, whether he wants to show it or not, I can see it. He's quiet, contained... while his eyes keep looking, like he wants to say something tasteful. There really isn't anything tastefully to say about a latex-clad, g-string trashy-shirted fox.
"I could like it better without the clothes," he finally says. The comment sounds small. Is he shy about this? I remember the last wolf who wore this kind of sheep's clothing. The pills really help to keep that pain in my rear from reminding me of last night with every shake I give to our customers. I lift a brow to him.
"Oh? Well, I think the rules say differently." He nods, not pressing for any "under the table" deal, or anything. He just accepts the rules and feels like he will get what he payed for. Nearly all of the "Rear Room" attendees push for more, and they usually get more when they press with their wallets. I figure I will be needing to take the initiative on this one. "But... " I step close to him, putting a long leg on either side of his left knee. I move down and run both paws lightly up under the flaps of his jacket on his shirt. "We will see how things turn out. It can get too hot, even for me, sometimes." My eyes sink into a deep seductive stare, wanting to drag him into my game of desire and lust. The glassy hooded stare always gets their gaze to lock with mine. Even now, he doesn't want to look away, afraid he might miss the next trick these eyes will in their arsenal.
In response, he finally nods.
"I would like that." His chest feels like it's rising and falling faster. I know the heat sinks through the white shirt. It might have to go. He probably won't figure out that I am going to turn this into my own show. My wolf will be the star, and he won't even know it. I can tell he would eagerly pull everything off and show me the goods. It makes me smile, and I let him see. His eyes merely reflect a childish excitement that doesn't seem to belong here in this room.
I clap my paws together above my head, and the music starts up. It's a wonderful feature, those clap-operated music players built into each room. It makes twice a good reason to make all the rooms sound proof.
My bottom sways, with my tail flowing behind me in a big puffy wave that promises comfort and warmth to any single touch. The glossy legs gently follow the movements and reflect them more by the sheen of the yellow latex. His eyes are on them. They've attracted his attention like honey to a bear, ironic enough for their color. He wants to lick his lips, but I see the restraint. His game is so crystal clear. He acts like a pane of glass passing off as a brick wall. He plays this game of innocent, good boy with a weakness for beautiful, cute guys dressed in feminine design. He can't fool me, though. I just don't understand why they play the game. Maybe if they pretend enough they can believe they are innocent?
I put my knees on the sofa, straddling his waist. My package is slipping out of the small triangle of yellow latex material. The end of my hard shaft peaks around the corner to see what the left side of my sac is out for. The wolf is looking closer than I thought possible. His chest is audibly rising and falling faster. My paw rubs over the soft white shirt to comfort and calm his breathing. Then goes up, wrapping delicate fingers around the strength of his shoulder. The muscle feels strong against my paw, resisting with the natural chisel of its shape. My other paw goes up to braid through the hair on the back of my head, elbow hiding some of the facial expressions I make.
I look away, presenting the shameful fox that can't hold his own against the strength and temptation of the wolf underneath. My own foxhood gets into it by throbbing and begs to go overboard, but I mentally keep it in check. I can't be flying out the door for another breather. No, it's resist the temptation or cum on Red Coat's white shirt(if the shirt is there by then).
My paws search his body, thirsty and drinking in the shape and scale of his chest and stomach. Up and down, they move so luxuriously and capture muscle after hard, lean muscle. I swear the wolf doesn't have an ounce of fat on him, which makes me wonder how full and beautiful the coat of fur must be underneath the clothes. The idea makes my heart beat and my breath feels a little hotter. My hips get a little out of swing with the beat, over-throwing their sway just a little, but not noticeably I hope.
I pull my tail up between us, hugging it while sitting up straight starring at the wolf. My fingers run through it, the other paw twiddling with the white-tip's hairs, looking at him with a knowing smile.
"I think, you will be more comfortable without the shirt." I bat my eyes at him, and he smiles more.
"What about the coat?"
"... it can stay." He somehow maneuvers his arms out of the red sleeves and pulls off the short sleeve shirt in a very liquid motion. Then his arms slip back into the sagging sleeves of his awaiting jacket.
All the while, I get to observe the shades of muscle line cut across the deep gray of the wolf's fur. Once the red coat found its way back on, my tail moves, and my paws explore slowly. Holding back the urge to grab and claw, they slide their fingers over those lines. My movement is teasing, but sends the message I wish to convey. They say, "I want." He gives out a sigh, almost frustrated but also with hints of relief.
Leaning in, my hips start to run up and grind. His cock is hard underneath my ass while it rubs up and down. His pants stretch, straining at the suffocating material. His tongue is out and panting. He starts pressing up, and I hold his shoulders and ride him. His thrusts come as if he were shoving the length up inside me.
I dive down and suckle his tongue into my muzzle. Then his lips catch on and attach to mine, his tongue coming alive in my maw and handling my own tongue. His shoulders feel nice to need and grip with all the force my paws can muster. He doesn't seem to notice, maybe too busy with the hard wet spot shoving itself between the folds of my ass.
His arms wrap around, embracing me with the quick grip on my ass. They feel stronger than the shoulders as the fingers grip so hard. It's painful, but I nearly scream in pleasure into his open, sucking mouth. It's painfully good, and I don't want it to stop.
Whimpers rise from his throat, and I give an amused moan in response. I like this. His cock is twitching like mad underneath me. Just when I think he is about to cum, his hips are pounding with a surprising upbeat. I could cum if I didn't exercise great caution. I have a job to do, even it feels so fucking good.
Those paw squeeze my ass even harder, and my paws pinch down on the red coat-covered shoulders. I whimper into his muzzle now, feeling that pain trying to make me give into the release. The release that's taking the wolf over edge right now. I can't. The job...
I feel that wet spot underneath get a lot warmer. Hot and searing, in fact. I pull away with a great big gasp of air and lack of breath. Looking down, his pants are fully wet with his cum. He's looking down too, also out of breath. When he looks back up at me, he open his mouth but acts lost at what to say.
I hop off of him before he does say anything and move to a little drawer nearby. My hard shaft is bobbing and wet with all the precum. I grab a towel from the drawer.
"We keep a towel handy for such... emergencies," I say before grinning. I blush a little and wish I wouldn't be so giddy about getting the horny wolf off. He's just another customer. No matter how damn cute and sexy.
I helped get Red Coat cleaned up. The stain is still there, but it isn't so obvious. He tips really well, and I had to get him to shut up about the apologies for breaking policy between clients and dancers. We passed the line of "no aggressive contact from the customers" by miles. I remember how his friend called him goody-two-shoes. It kind of fits.
The rest of the customers won't be as good as him. They won't be as sexy, as considerate(or at least, act as considerate). They are the trash that get what they pay for. Me. I can still be happy to have one really nice change in pace of business, though. A temporary change... but it makes a difference in the way I see the rest of the night. I can be thankful for that.