{"sf1_id":1663140,"sf2_id":"Rm0jy5K1","title":"Liquid Courage","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":7551,"posted_at":"2020-12-20T17:48:02.000Z","tags":["Cheetah","Crows","Greentext","HMOFA","Human","Love","Short Story"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1663140-liquid-courage","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Rm0jy5K1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/c8/41/c8417154-3f36-4e65-a934-4191a078b2b5","description":"So, there's a human, a cheetah, and some crows in this bar...  \n  \n(Cover pic from: [https://e926.net/posts/2403417?q=Cheetah+female)](https://e926.net/posts/2403417?q=Cheetah+female))","content":"\\\u003eDoes any story with a happy ending start with alcohol?  \n  \n\\\u003eYou tap the bar a few times, signaling for another round  \n\\\u003eThe bartender, a cheetah wearing a crisp white blouse and a pair of jeans, produces a short glass and sets about polishing it  \n\\\u003e\"You sure about that? You're gonna regret it in the morning,\" she asks  \n\\\u003eWordlessly, you produce a worn $10 bill and drop it into her nearly-empty tip jar  \n\\\u003eShe shrugs her shoulders and sets a rum and coke before you  \n\\\u003e\"I don't get to serve human portions very often. I hope I mixed it right,\" she adds with a wink  \n\\\u003eYour head swimming and hot, you press the sweating glass to your forehead  \n\\\u003eThe bartender watches with some degree of confusion  \n\\\u003e\"If you just wanted something cool, ice is free you know.\"  \n“No, this is fine,\" you take a few deep breaths, trying to keep track of your surroundings. “Just need a few minutes.\"  \n\\\u003eThe cheetah leans on the counter  \n\\\u003e\"Not to sound like a stereotypical bartender or anything, but what's wrong?\"   \n\\\u003eYou take a meager sip  \n“Nothing, actually.\"  \n\\\u003e\"You've been coming here for a couple days now, and you're WAY overdressed. Humans don't just come to The Blinking Light, especially ones who look like they have cash to burn.\"  \n\\\u003eYou shrug your shoulders. You're not in an aggressive mood  \n“I just enjoy the atmosphere. It's nice to come here and unwind after work.\"  \n\\\u003eShe looks around and then laughs   \n\\\u003e\"What atmosphere?\"  \n\\\u003eThe bar is nearly empty, save for a few crows smoking cigarettes and drinking small glasses of beer  \n\\\u003eThey've been eying you since you came in   \n“Well, you're here, which brightens the room a little\" you take another sip  \n\\\u003eYou swear you can see small pockets of crimson play across her cheeks  \n\\\u003eShe plays it off with a nervous laugh  \n\\\u003e\"Okay, you're a little drunk.\"  \n“I'm more brave than I am drunk. That's why they call it 'liquid courage.'\"  \n\\\u003eShe leans on the bar  \n\\\u003e\"I gotta hand it to you humans though, you can really hold your liquor. Just one of those and I'd be gone.\"  \n\\\u003eActually, among other humans, you're kind of a lightweight. But you don't tell her that  \n\\\u003eShe begins wiping down the bar with a rag  \n\\\u003eMaybe you're just drunk, but you swear that the top of her blouse wasn't unbuttoned before  \n\\\u003eYou can see the not-so-subtle mounds of her breasts, squeezed together by her arms as she wipes down the counter  \n\\\u003eYou do a fair bit of ogling before you notice that her head is starting to turn in your direction  \n\\\u003eYou snap your attention away from her sizable chest and onto the shelves of liquor behind the bar  \n\\\u003e\"You know…\"  \n  \n\\\u003eAh shit, she caught you. Guess you weren't as quick as you thought  \n\\\u003e\"You've been coming in here for a few days and I never got your name.\"  \n\\\u003eYou let out a held breath. That was close  \n“Anon. What about you? I've been coming here for a few days and never got your name either.\"  \n\\\u003eShe laughs a little  \n\\\u003e\"This is why I keep telling my boss we should have name tags. My name is Emma.\"  \n\\\u003eYou take a sip  \n“I'm not trying to be rude or insensitive, but that's not a very...cheetah-like name, you know?\"  \n\\\u003eToo bad you're actually kind of blunt and stupid when you're tipsy  \n\\\u003eYou instantly regret the words as they leave your mouth, and wish you could push them back down your stupid, drunken gullet  \n\\\u003eThankfully she takes it in stride, issuing a small laugh as proof  \n\\\u003e\"Yeah, you're right. When my parents moved here, they wanted to leave their old life behind. So they wanted to name their daughter something that would help her fit in with her new heritage. They didn't know Emma was a human name.\"  \n\\\u003eYou sip your drink and make some small talk   \n\\\u003eShe explains that she's a student at the local university working towards a degree in literature  \n\\\u003e\"And before you ask, no, I don't do track. I'm not actually very athletic at all.\"  \n\\\u003eYou tell her that's okay, you're not athletic either. You're actually on the opposite side of the spectrum when it comes to fitness  \n\\\u003eYou're an accountant at a large firm in the city  \n\\\u003e\"That explains why my tip jar is so full every night.\"  \n“Well, it's not just because you're cute, you also make a damn good rum and coke.\"  \n\\\u003eShe nearly drops the glass she was polishing  \n\\\u003e\"Geeze, did my wrist slip when I was adding the rum or something?\"  \n  \n\\\u003eFar beyond the realm of caring, you take a swig, and then thrust the glass into her face  \n“I don't know, wanna give it a taste?\"  \n\\\u003eShe nervously glances between you and the glass  \n\\\u003e\"You're...serious?\"  \n“I promise you, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't genuinely think these were my favorite drinks in the city.\"  \n\\\u003eShe slowly extends a hand to take your glass, but then quickly retracts it  \n\\\u003eHer face turns stern and hard, and she directs her focus back to wiping down the counter  \n“What? I promise I didn't do anything to it. I just wanted you to try your own drink.\"  \n\\\u003eNo response  \n\\\u003eYou feel a cluster of scornful eyes drilling into your back  \n\\\u003eYou turn around in your seat  \n\\\u003eThe crows are no longer playing pool  \n\\\u003eThey're watching you with intent, hatred burning in their eyes  \n\\\u003eOne of them is clutching a pool cue   \n\\\u003eYou lock eyes with one of them for a brief second, and without words, you can hear what he's trying to say.  \n\\\u003e'Hands off.'  \n\\\u003eYou turn your back to them and place your unfinished drink back on the counter  \n\\\u003eEmma is still busy wiping down the counter  \n“Listen. I get it.\"  \n\\\u003eYou flip open your wallet and deposit a couple dollars in her tip jar  \n“I'm not a stranger to scorn or the judgment of society. I know where the boundaries are. I didn't mean anything by that, promise.\"  \n\\\u003eYou rise from your seat, bracing yourself against the bar for support  \n\\\u003eYou're a lot drunker than you thought  \n“I'll stop causing trouble for you. Oh, and Emma?\"  \n\\\u003eShe briefly glances up, her eyes pleading with you to leave for your own safety  \n“These really are some of the best drinks I've had in this city.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eA block from The Blinking Light, in the spitting rain, in this shitty, lonely city, you notice you're not alone  \n\\\u003eA quick check over your shoulder and you see the crows not too far behind you, gaining at an even pace  \n\\\u003eThe dim glow of their cigarettes briefly throws a curtain of orange light across their faces  \n\\\u003eTheir cold, hateful eyes are fixed on you   \n\\\u003eYou keep moving, hoping to wander past a group of cops on patrol  \n\\\u003eOr people  \n\\\u003eOr anyone  \n\\\u003eBut there's nobody around. The houses are all locked up tight, the roads emptied save for a procession of trash being pushed along by the approaching storm  \n\\\u003eYou start running, but it's not much good. Your strides are crippled by the heaviness of your head  \n\\\u003eMaybe Emma did mix the drinks a little stronger this time  \n\\\u003eBefore you get a chance to call for help, you feel a rough hand on your shoulder yank you back  \n\\\u003eYou crash onto your ass with a yelp  \n\\\u003eDazed, you search for a quick escape  \n\\\u003eOr a weapon  \n\\\u003eA wall of black silhouettes crowd around you, closing off your escape  \n\\\u003eLightning rips across the dark skies, illuminating the cold, sodden faces of the crows now towering over you  \n\\\u003eOne of them thumps a pool cue across their palms  \n  \n\\\u003eMaybe it was the money they wanted, or the way you were dressed  \n\\\u003eYou didn't exactly broadcast strained finances  \n\\\u003eBut you know that's not it, because whatever's in your wallet is just the icing on the cake  \n\\\u003eIt was the way Emma looked at you in the bar  \n\\\u003eThat curious, almost flattered expression when you were talking to her, the hand that nearly touched yours  \n\\\u003eThey were going to teach her a lesson, and you were going to be the demonstration  \n\\\u003e\"What a bunch of fools we lovers are,\" you mutter, just as a crack of thunder smothers your words  \n\\\u003eWell, this is how is how it ends, you guess  \n\\\u003eThough you did get the feeling that your life was heading towards this moment anyway  \n\\\u003eYou shut your eyes, and try to retreat to somewhere warm and safe  \n\\\u003eYou're not in the streets or in the rain anymore  \n\\\u003eYou're not about to die in some dead-end part of town  \n\\\u003eYou're back in your apartment, rolling over in your bed  \n\\\u003eAnd she's next to you  \n\\\u003eNo secrets here, no lying to friends or family  \n\\\u003eYou're softly running your hands through her fur  \n\\\u003eYou're pressing the heat of your body against hers  \n\\\u003eYou're smelling the lingering perfume on her shoulder, the shampoo in her hair  \n\\\u003eYou're hearing her voice for the first time in the months since she passed  \n\\\u003eBut it sounds different than what you remember  \n  \n\\\u003e\"EITHER YOU GET LOST OR YOU GET SHOT, YOU HEAR ME?!\"  \n\\\u003eYou open your eyes  \n\\\u003eThe crows are no longer bearing down on you   \n\\\u003eThey're scattering in all directions, shouting obscenities over the rumble of thunder  \n\\\u003eWhen the lightning flashes, you at last get to see who made them flee with their tails between their legs  \n\\\u003eEmma is standing a couple feet away, an old shotgun sitting loosely in her grip  \n\\\u003eWhen she sees you laying on the sidewalk, soaked to the brim, her expression shifts from commanding to concerned  \n\\\u003eShe helps you to your feet, but it doesn't do much good, as you're forced to lean on her for support  \n\\\u003e\"Guess I didn't mix those drinks right after all,\" she mutters  \n  \n\\\u003eWithout even realizing it, you press close together for warmth as you stagger back to the bar  \n\\\u003eYou really would have died out here tonight. There's not a soul out and about. Not even a car  \n\\\u003eWhen you get back to the bar, both of you are sodden and shivering, sheets of rain pelting you without rest  \n\\\u003eYou do your best to make it to make it over to your old barstool  \n\\\u003eIt's still warm  \n\\\u003eEmma turns the lock on the front door and then slides back against it, shivering, clutching the shotgun to her chest  \n\\\u003eYou watch her for a second, a little drunk, a little nervous, still not knowing what to say  \n\\\u003eA thank you, perhaps?  \n\\\u003eInstead, your eyes trail the shotgun as she lays it on the floor beside her  \n\\\u003eShe looks up at you, still shaking from the cold  \n\\\u003eOr the adrenaline  \n\\\u003e....  \n\\\u003e\"It's not loaded, you know. It never is. I don't even think my boss keeps any ammo on deck.\"  \n“…That's no fun.\"  \n\\\u003eMore silence passes between you  \n\\\u003eShe's shaking pretty bad  \n\\\u003eHer white blouse is soaked through, and clings to the rest of her relatively thin frame  \n\\\u003eYou try not to stare too much, but it's not likely she'll notice  \n\\\u003eShe's just staring worriedly at the floor, perhaps still in shock  \n\\\u003eYou don't think, you just act  \n\\\u003eYou shed your heavy jacket, drape it over her, and slide down against the door next to her  \n\\\u003e\"T-Thanks,\" she says, pulling it tight  \n\\\u003eShe tries to keep her voice from shaking, but it's no good  \n“Well, I owe you. For, you know. Saving my life. Buy you a drink?\"  \n\\\u003eHer laugh breaks the tension in her throat, though her body still shakes  \n\\\u003e\"I was almost beaten to death by a nasty looking group of crows for pretending to be packing heat, for YOUR hairless ass, and you now you want to have a drink with me?\"  \n“Hey now,\" you struggle to your feet, bracing yourself against the door. “My ass isn't that hairy.\"  \n\\\u003eYou extend your arm down to her  \n“Come on. A drink will chase away that chill in your bones.\"  \n\\\u003eThe cheetah's face curls up with a smile as she grasps your slippery palm  \n\\\u003e\"It fucking b-better. God I'm cold.\"  \n  \n“So what I like at company mixers is a gin and tonic,\" you say, spritzing out some gin and clear, bubbling tonic water into a glass  \n\\\u003eYou are behind the bar, while Emma leans on the polished wood, still sodden and dripping rainwater  \n\\\u003e\"So this is what it's like to be on the other side of the bar,\" she says, keenly watching your every movement, relishing in the butler-like service you provide  \n“Wait,\" you set the drink down in front of her. She takes small sips  \n“You've never been on this side of the bar before?\" You slur, taking a sip of vodka cranberry you'd made up.  \n\\\u003eEmma giggles between sips  \n\\\u003e\"Did you miss the part where I said I'm studying for a degree in literature? Do you think I can afford to blow my money in bars?\"  \n“Hey now,\" you point your drink towards her  \n\\\u003eYou can already feel your body warming up just looking at her  \n“My wife got a degree a degree in literature. There's plenty you can do with that.\"  \n\\\u003eThe cheetah stiffens her back and sits up straight, both hands wrapped around her half-finished drink  \n\\\u003e\"I didn't think you had a wife,\" she says, almost sulking  \n\\\u003eYou notice her head tilt down into her drink a little  \n\\\u003eThe thin outline of the pink bra she's wearing  \n\\\u003eWhich ordinarily would be kinda cute  \n\\\u003eBut she's quietly lapping at a gin and tonic with her tongue, and that's just somewhat weird  \n\\\u003eYou can look past it, though  \n\\\u003eYour wife used to do that too  \n“Well, she did.\" You take a long pull on your drink, nearly draining it down to the ice  \n“She passed away a few months ago from scoliosis.\"   \n\\\u003eEmma lifts her gaze  \n\\\u003e\"I'm really sorry to hear that,\" she says, her inflection like cold rainwater  \n“I appreciate the sentiment. It was… Hard, watching her go. You take a woman who loves being outdoors, running around, getting her fur wet-\"  \n\\\u003e\"Sorry, did you say fur?\" Emma cuts in  \n\\\u003eYou polish off your vodka cranberry and settle on just straight vodka  \n“Yeah,\" you say.   \n\\\u003eYour body feels loose, as does your mind  \n\\\u003eLike a balloon that's had its string cut  \n\\\u003eYou feel ready to float away  \n\\\u003eEmma starts slowly sipping at her gin and tonic.   \n“She was a collie. I dunno. This is going to sound bad, but can I tell you something?\"  \n\\\u003eShould you even start down this road?  \n\\\u003eEven in your addled state you know how this is going to go  \n\\\u003eShe shrugs her shoulders and shakes out her fur, splashing water all over her clean, clean tables  \n“The reason I come here a lot isn't just because the drinks are good — they are.\"  \n\\\u003e\"God I'm drunk enough to believe that now,\" she says  \n\\\u003eYou pause, taking a fortifying breath, sucking down the warm air and the moisture and the cling of the smoke from the cigarettes still smoldering in the ash trays  \n\\\u003eYou search her face for what seems like hours, lost in the fine contours of her jaw, her raised cheekbones, the gleam in her eyes, the short, soft fur that carpets her tender skin  \n\\\u003eIt's… nothing like her  \n\\\u003eWhat were you looking for in her — a new wife, some kindling spark that could bring your old one back?  \n\\\u003eNo  \n“…I come here because…\"  \n\\\u003e\"You're lonely?\" She stabs  \n\\\u003eAnd the stab hits its mark; right in the heart  \n“Yes,\" you say, exhaling, setting the bottle down. “I am… very lonely. At work. At home. I can't stand to be there most nights. I still find her fur everywhere — On the couch, the bed, the bathroom — Hell, I even found some in the microwave. It's like she's haunting me.\"  \n\\\u003eEmma sets her own drink down, the warmth of the liquor manifested in a scarlet sheen all over he face and neck  \n\\\u003eShe wears a drawn and saddened look  \n\\\u003e\"I know it doesn't mean much, especially coming from someone who has never lost anyone before, but that's really sad. Hell, you could write a story about something like that,\" she says into her drink  \n\\\u003eYou lean up against the bar, bending your hip out  \n“So, you going to write it?\"  \n\\\u003e\"Write it?\" she stiffens, the iron rod in her spine going straight  \n\\\u003eShe shakes her head as if she could shake the words out of her ears  \n\\\u003e\"I don't write. That's…\"  \n“Sad,\" you cut in  \n\\\u003e\"Sad?\" She draws back. “Why is that sad?\"  \n“Because, a writer is a reader moved to emulation. You can say you've never been moved to emulation?\"  \n\\\u003eShe does not immediately respond  \n\\\u003eShe focuses her attention on her drink, bowing her head, mumbling something in a volume that outmatches human hearing  \n\\\u003eYou lean in closer  \n“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-\"  \n\\\u003e\"No, you're fine.\" She sticks her hand out, takes the bottle off the table, and pours a shots-worth of vodka into her empty glass  \n\\\u003eA human-sized shot, that is  \n\\\u003e\"I'm not offended…or hurt… I'm just…\"  \n\\\u003eShe takes a long, exaggerated sip, slamming her eyes shut  \n\\\u003eLiquid courage  \n\\\u003eWith a stuttering swallow, the vodka hits her gut, leaving only a burnt trail down her throat  \n\\\u003eShe coughs for a bit  \n\\\u003eOnce her fit is over she shakes her fur again  \n\\\u003eThis time there's less water  \n\\\u003e\"What I'm trying to say is: I write poetry. Bad poetry. Really bad poetry.\"  \n“Poetry?\" You fill up your glass and match her shot. Yours goes down twice as easy as hers did  \n“My wife was a prose writer, but I really like song lyrics. Does that count?\"  \n\\\u003eShe shrugs  \n\\\u003e\"I think it depends on the song. You know what?\"  \n“What?\"  \n\\\u003eShe stares hard at the bottle, squinting, head locked in some kind of duel with her better self  \n\\\u003eBut our better selves are often the weaker of our natures, and so, with some internal deliberation, she reaches for the bottle and pours herself another shot  \n\\\u003eYou can't help but peer down her shirt as she reaches over and pours herself a shot  \n\\\u003eShe has a nice, slender figure  \n\\\u003eYou take a small sip of melted ice and vodka  \n\\\u003eAhhhh to be young again  \n\\\u003e\"I'm going to read you my poetry. I've never read anyone my poetry before, but if it has to be someone, it might as well be you. Some guy in a bar.\"  \n“Hey now, I'm not just some guy in a bar. I've spilled my guts to you,\" you counter  \n\\\u003eWhich is true  \n\\\u003eShe pulls a small leather notebook out of her back pocket  \n\\\u003e\"And I'm about to spill my guts to you,\" she says, a terrible blush scouring her face. “You can't laugh, okay?\"  \n\\\u003eYou extend your pinkie to her  \n“I pinkie swear that I won't laugh.\"  \n\\\u003eShe just stares at your extended digit, not sure of what to do with it  \n\\\u003eYou retract the notion  \n\\\u003eMust be a human thing  \n\\\u003eShe spins the pages of her pocket notebook a bit humming with disapproval at most everything she comes across  \n\\\u003eExcept one, near the back of the book  \n\\\u003eGood God she writes a lot of poems  \n\\\u003eShe mouths a few words, looks you in the eyes, takes her shot, and begins to speak:  \n\\\u003e\"Where a river bends in two  \n\\\u003e\"Is where we bound our boat to the shore  \n\\\u003e\"And scurried off  \n\\\u003e\"Like field mice  \n\\\u003e\"For autumn's glow  \n\\\u003e\"To bronze everything in finer coinage than emperor's gold.  \n\\\u003e\"That fork in the river  \n\\\u003e\"Which pulled like two strings of a violin  \n\\\u003e\"Separated and cut by a bow  \n\\\u003e\"Of inland cattails  \n\\\u003e\"Bursting  \n\\\u003e\"Slamming on our skin.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eShe lowers her notebook like a shield protecting her from embarrassment  \n\\\u003eHer face searches yours for something  \n\\\u003eApproval  \n\\\u003eLaughter  \n\\\u003eJoy  \n\\\u003eSadness  \n\\\u003eAnything  \n\\\u003eYou can only fight back tears  \n\\\u003eNot because it was beautiful — though It was stirring --  \n\\\u003eBut because it reminds you of spending time at your wife's old house in northern Michigan, where you first met one another between old friends and new, one another a bridge into the other's world  \n\\\u003eIf your love was a bridge, you had built it strong enough to withstand the force of any storm — Michigan or otherwise  \n\\\u003eBut disease was more than a storm. It was an earthquake  \n\\\u003eYou feel weak at the knees  \n\\\u003eMaybe from the alcohol, or something else  \n\\\u003eAnd so you clap a little bit, trying desperately to stay vertical when it feels like the whole weight of gravity is forcing you downward  \n\\\u003eYou can't imagine a better way to show approval for anyone than to cry at the utterance of their work  \n\\\u003eBut you can only produce a few tears, like diamonds that take eons to form in the crevices and crannies of mountains  \n\\\u003eEmma's face glows with warmth and cheer  \n\\\u003e\"You really liked it that much?\" She leans forward like an eager child  \n\"Ho boy,\" you wipe away that pathetic single tear and reach for the bottle  \n\\\u003eAnother shot  \n\\\u003eLiquid courage to say what your heart cannot  \n\"I loved it. You've got a songwriter's heart…\u0026nbsp; Felt like it drew my soul outta my body, like you'd smuggle soap out of a hotel.\"  \n\\\u003eHer head shoots backward in astonishment  \n\\\u003e\"Damnnnn, now there's compliment. And a poetic one at that. I didn't know you were such a poet yourself.\"  \n“I'm- \\*hic\\*, I'm not. I just like music\"  \n\\\u003eShe leans her chin on the bar, her eyes sliding shut  \n\\\u003e\"You know, I've never done that for anyone before. That was fun.\"  \n\\\u003eOne of her eyes opens and stares straight ahead  \n\\\u003eWhich happens to be at your belt  \n\\\u003e\"You know there are a lot of humans at my college. Just tons of them. I've never been around so many smoothskins in my life,\" she says, her words blunt, yet casual  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't even care that she's uttered a pretty harsh slur at a very, very human patron of her workplace  \n\\\u003eYou crouch down, bouncing on the balls of your feet  \n\\\u003eYou place your head on the bar, almost touching her wet nose  \n\\\u003eIt twitches with sudden anticipation  \n“It's okay. Snapjaw.\"  \n\\\u003eA grin widens across her face  \n\\\u003e\"So that's how it is, hairless rat,\" she fires back in good cheer  \n“That's how it is, fangmouth,\" you reply  \n\\\u003eooooh, nice  \n\\\u003eNow she's really smiling, relishing in the casual specisim  \n\\\u003e\"I like fangmouth. Haven't heard that one in a few years. What else you got?\"  \n“Pred.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Weak.\"  \n\"Razortooth.\"  \n\\\u003e\"WEAKER!\"  \n“Fuck, I don't gotta say anything. I'm a human, the most dominant species on this entire bitch of an Earth.\"  \n\\\u003e\"Oh,\" she chortles, “you think you're the dominant species?\"  \n“I mean… I thought that went without saying…\"  \n\\\u003eShe bounces unsteadily to her feet, legs poised  \n\\\u003e\"You wanna have a race you wrinkly ol' bitch? See who the real apex predator is?\"  \n\\\u003eYou stagger upwards, unable to tell if she's joking or not  \n\\\u003eGravity feels shaky today  \n\\\u003eBoth you and her are FAR too drunk to be running — much less sprinting  \n“C'mon spots, you're gonna actually try and race me…\" you look around the relatively small room  \n“In here?\"  \n\\\u003e\"Damn straight,\" she says, scarlet burning across her dopey and excited face. “I'm not athletic, so it'll be a fair race.\"  \n\\\u003eYour addled mind reels as you entertain the idea of racing inside an empty bar  \n“Alright you pussy, pun intended. You're on.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eYou start at the back of the bar, palms resting on the door  \n\\\u003eThe world is spinning and you want it to stop  \n\\\u003eEmma counts you in  \n\\\u003e\"1…\"   \n\\\u003e\"2…\" Her eyes momentarily flick over to you  \n\\\u003e\"3!\" She bolts forward, legs twisting over each other  \n\\\u003eYou explode forward as well, but the Earth does a sharp right turn and soon you find yourself veering off into a freshly polished table  \n\\\u003eYou manage to clip a few tables and knock them on their sides  \n\\\u003eBut you go down hard  \n“Emma?\" You say, lifting your head from the wreckage of tables and chairs  \n\\\u003eYour eyes find the girl crumpled on the ground before a support beam, her arms spread wide in a magnificent T-Pose  \n\\\u003eWithout thinking, you leap forward and slap against the ground  \n\\\u003eThe best you can do is crawl towards the girl  \n\\\u003eStanding is no longer an option  \n\\\u003eAs you crawl, you keep calling out her name  \n\"Emma…\"  \n“Emma…\"  \n\\\u003eThe girl rolls over with a heavy groan, clutching her head  \n\\\u003e\"Sogn of a bidchhh,\" she moans  \n\\\u003eYou're practically army crawling towards her by the time she sits up   \n\\\u003eBlood runs from her nose  \n\\\u003e\"Igh thing I win,\" she says pinching off the blood  \n“That's…\" You can no longer keep your head upright  \n\\\u003eIt heads the ground with a heavy \\*CONK\\*  \n“You cheated…\" you try to reason  \n\\\u003eYou can only see darkness  \n\\\u003eYou can only feel the gentle curves of the Earth, the way it spins, like the world's slowest pirouette  \n\\\u003eSo you don't feel it when Emma snuggles up against you  \n\\\u003eMore importantly, you do feel it when she uses your wet shirt to wipe blood on  \n“Heyyyy, not cool!\" you groan, flipping over  \n\\\u003eHer head comes to rest on your chest  \n\\\u003eIt doesn't feel like there's much you can do at this point  \n\\\u003eYou are SAUCED  \n\\\u003eBut you know what? You feel good  \n\\\u003eEverything feels warm  \n\\\u003eEmma is cool  \n\\\u003eAnd you're safe from-  \n\\\u003eEmma presses her hot, wet lips against yours  \n\\\u003eYour eyes bulge in your head  \n\\\u003eAs if realizing what she was doing, she draws her head back, still tethered to your mouth by a thin, gossamer strand of saliva  \n\\\u003eHer eyes split wide and her mouth starts moving  \n\\\u003e\"Oh- Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I don't know what…\"  \n\\\u003eA fresh bloom of red hits her cheeks  \n\\\u003eAnd, as if right on cue, blood threads down from her nose  \n\\\u003eShe sharply turns her head  \n\\\u003e\"Fugg,\" she says pinching her nose. “I ruin eberythinng.\"  \n\\\u003eYou laugh  \n“Eberything,\" you repeat, wiping her taste from your lips   \n\\\u003eShe tastes like vodka, curiosity  \n\\\u003eAnd fur?  \n\\\u003eYou sit up and watch as her form seems to slump — her shoulders falling, her head bowed, body curving inwards  \n\\\u003eIdea  \n\\\u003eBad idea, potentially, but it is an idea, and when your drunk, all the good ideas seem bad and vice-versa  \n\\\u003eYou crawl over to her and allow the full weight of your body to come down on top of her  \n\\\u003eShe gasps and falls backwards  \n\\\u003eYour head rests just a few inches away from her mouth  \n\\\u003e\"What are you doing?\" She whispers, face beet-red  \n“You didn't make any mistakes,\" you lower your head. “Your timing was just off. So this will have to do.\"  \n\\\u003eYou silence her with a gentle kiss  \n  \n\\\u003eShe gasps a little, fingers pulling at your shirt in shock, but she seems to fade and lean into it, matching your tepid effort with some push of her own  \n\\\u003eIt feels… similar to your wife, the way your mouths don't quite match up, but you try to put them together  \n\\\u003eYou lean into her, arm bending to tuck her head in the crook of your elbow  \n\\\u003eWhen you draw back, after what felt like hours, you're both breathless  \n\\\u003eYou watch as her chest rises and falls, heavy and wanting for air  \n\\\u003eYou don't wipe her taste away  \n\\\u003eHer needy eyes search yours, a look of shock and sadness at the abruptness of your ending  \n\\\u003e\"T-Thank you for the encouragement,\" she stammers. “Could I…?\"  \n\\\u003eYou lean closer at the behest of her fingers piling up your shirt  \n\\\u003e\"Could I have a little more encouragement?\" She weakly requests  \n\\\u003eWell, what kind of man would you be if you didn't oblige?  \n\\\u003eYou cock your head and press your mouth to hers  \n\\\u003eThe feeling of your tongues meeting is like an electric current finally being passed between your two heaving bodies  \n\\\u003eShe shudders as you press your tongue against hers, body following suit  \n\\\u003eThe gentle curves of her form become apparent  \n\\\u003eThe softness of her fur, the responsiveness of her skin through her wet blouse  \n\\\u003eThe plushness of her breasts against your skin  \n\\\u003eIt all feels like little pinpricks of fire gathering into something big and beautiful  \n\\\u003eShe pushes her hand through your hair and down the back of your neck  \n\\\u003eWith a tenderness, she pulls you deeper into her mouth, as if wanting you to stay locked together at the lips forever  \n\\\u003eNot that you'd complain  \n\\\u003eBut you need to breathe  \n\\\u003eYou come up and gasp as subtly as you can, sucking air in ragged breaths  \n\\\u003eEmma bends beneath you, her body like a a semi-rigid snake  \n\\\u003eWhen you lock eyes with her, you know, without a single word, what she wants  \n\\\u003eBut you don't go there yet  \n\\\u003eYou dip below her chin, veer to the right, and plant small kisses on the nape of her neck  \n\\\u003eYour ministrations tease little gasps and moans from her.  \n\\\u003eEach time your lips pull gently at her flesh she shivers just a tiny bit  \n\\\u003ePerfect  \n\\\u003eYou focus on her neck, while your free hand travels down the outside of her shirt and pulls at a handful of her breasts  \n\\\u003eThe effect is pretty rapid  \n\\\u003eShe bends hard, bowing back upwards so as to give you more purchase on her body like a gift for a job well done  \n\\\u003eA gift you do not plan to waste  \n\\\u003eYou swiftly unbutton her shirt with your free hand, and it feels like you're undoing the ribbon to a beautiful and ornate present  \n\\\u003eYour other hand you use to cup the base of her skull and lift it up to your pressing lips  \n\\\u003eThe spill of her modest cleavage is contained by an equally modest pink bra  \n\\\u003eYou pull back from her wanting mouth  \n\\\u003eHer hot breath puffs up in your face  \n\\\u003e\"W-Why'd you stop?\" She says, her want played out across her face, pulling her eyelids down until they're half-shut  \n\\\u003eYou raise an eyebrow  \n“Pink bra and a white blouse? You're a bold woman,\" you say, acutely aware of your need to add a disarming chuckle after that  \n\\\u003e\"Shut up…\" she moans, accenting her verbiage with a tired smile  \n\\\u003eShe sits up suddenly  \n\\\u003e\"If you don't like the bra,\" she reaches her hands behind her back. “then fine. I'll just take it off.\"  \n\\\u003eShe gives you a challenging stare and a cocky smirk, but you hardly notice  \n\\\u003eYour feeble male brain is only concerned with her chest, now unburdened and unhindered by that pesky piece of underwear  \n\\\u003eYou're so busy staring at the way her pink nipples practically glow against her spotted fur that you don't notice it when she hurls the bra at your face  \n\\\u003e\"Pervert,\" she giggles  \n\\\u003eShe really is beautiful, and in more than just a casual hookup way  \n\\\u003eHer blouse loosely hangs on her body, and to anyone else she might look undressed or disheveled  \n\\\u003eBut to you, she reminds you of an angel, just with shorter wings  \n\\\u003eIt's the softness of her coat, the way its paleness catches the overhead light  \n\\\u003eIts in the roundness of her high cheeks, the shortness of her muzzle, the pointed (yet woozy) drift of her gaze that's casually trawling all over your body with an approving smile  \n\\\u003eEmma purrs contentedly as her lithe tail swishes behind her in a hypnotizing rhythm, like the world's slowest metronome  \n\\\u003eYou can't control yourself anymore  \n\\\u003eYou pretty much leap back on top of her  \n\\\u003eYour weight pins her to the ground, but she only seems to be encouraging it  \n\\\u003eShe rubs her paws in gentle circles on your back as your lips meet the crook of her neck again  \n\\\u003eA high gasp slips out of her, dragging with it stiffness of her body  \n\\\u003eShe melts into you like butter put to a candle's flame  \n\\\u003eTime to turn up the heat  \n\\\u003eYou kiss your way down her neck, tracking wet spots into her fur  \n\\\u003eWith one hand you cup her right breast, plunging your fingers into the softness of skin and fur  \n\\\u003eShe gasps again as you bring your mouth tantalizingly close to her stiff nipple  \n\\\u003eAll it takes is your languid, hot breath on make her moan  \n\\\u003eYou pause and peer up at her  \n\\\u003eShe looks down at you, face blisteringly red  \n\\\u003e\"I'm sensitive there, okay?\" She squeaks  \n“Good.\" You flick at the tip of her nipples with her tongue, which works another moan out of her  \n\\\u003eHer head rolls back onto the floor  \n\\\u003eYou latch onto her other breast with your hand and begin working her over, alternating between fondling and sucking on each one  \n\\\u003eYou taste the softness of her velvet-like fur, the sensitive skin of her nipples  \n\\\u003eIt tastes like nothing and everything at the same time  \n\\\u003eHer legs cross together, and you can't help but notice that she's rubbing her thighs together, like two dry sticks you'd rub together to create a friction fire  \n\\\u003eYou go to unzip her pants  \n\\\u003eShe pushes her palms against your chest  \n\\\u003e\"Hold on, hold on,\" she says  \n\\\u003eYou lean back  \n“What's wrong? Does it hurt?\"  \n\\\u003e\"Take your pants off,\" she says in a sharp breath  \n\\\u003eIt's rude to keep a lady waiting  \n\\\u003eYou swiftly tear your belt from around your waist and yank your pants down  \n\\\u003eNow it's her turn to pounce on you  \n\\\u003eWith a sharp yell she hurls her body at you, knocking you almost-too-hard against the wooden floors  \n\\\u003eBefore you can even moan in pain, she's got her tongue in your mouth, working you over, lashing against your own, as if searching for something inside of you  \n\\\u003eHaving found it, she pulls back, locks eyes with you, smirks, and then floats lower, past your ribcage, past your waist, and then to your stiffening groin  \n\\\u003eShe rakes your underwear down and coos softly when your cock bounces free  \n\\\u003eHer paws wrap around it instinctively, and you wince out of habit  \n\\\u003eYour wife would sometimes forge to retract her claws — the cause of more than a few abruptly canceled sessions  \n\\\u003eBut Emma didn't  \n\\\u003eShe presses your drooling cock against her lips, her eyes fluttering shut  \n\\\u003e\"This might sound… gross… but I love the way you smell,\" she says, breathing deep. “You're the first human I've ever been with, but I think I'm hooked.\"  \n\\\u003eHer jaw drops open and her long, pink tongue lolls out of her mouth  \n\\\u003eShe starts working it up and down your shaft, coaxing another gob of pre to slide out of you  \n\\\u003eShe quickly plants her lips at the crown of your member and pulls you into her mouth  \n\\\u003eYou can feel the wetness of her cheeks collapse around your, while her tongue coils itself around your shaft  \n\\\u003eIn one swift motion she rakes her head up  \n\\\u003eYou gasp  \n\\\u003eAnd then down, burying your prick against the back of her throat, where it remains for sometime, getting worked over by her nimble tongue  \n\\\u003eEmma breathes evenly through her nose, eyes shut, inhaling your scent  \n\\\u003eShe looks completely at ease, all exhaustion, fear, tension and terror for your wellbeing washed out of her by the flood of your shared passion  \n\\\u003eCarefully, she bobs her head up and down  \n\\\u003eYou feel a strong, wet pulling sensation all over your cock, pleasure building itself behind your groin like the first winds of a hurricane  \n\\\u003eThis isn't good  \n\\\u003eAt this rate you'll blow your load too soon  \n\\\u003eShe works you in and out of her mouth, taking small brakes to take in the musty air and stroke your cock  \n\\\u003eAnd each time, you lock fading and tired eyes, and speak in the unspoken language of kind smiles  \n\\\u003eYou can't help but notice how hard she's breathing  \n\\\u003eIt's not just from having your dick down her throat  \n\\\u003eAnd you also can't help but notice that she's been rubbing her thighs together still  \n“A little busy over there?\" You nod towards her lower half  \n\\\u003eShe blushes again, a hint of embarrassment mixed with overwhelming excitement  \n\\\u003e\"I can't help it. It's… It's been a minute for me.\"  \n\\\u003eYou hum contentedly  \n\\\u003eSounds like something you can fix  \n\\\u003eYou direct her to take her pants off, which she does enthusiastically  \n\\\u003eShe stands up, still wearing the unbuttoned blouse, and rakes her pants down  \n\\\u003eShe's also wearing faded pink underwear that matches her bra  \n\\\u003eThere's a solid damp spot between her legs where she's managed to soak through her panties  \n\\\u003eBut that's not what catches your eyes  \n\\\u003eIt's the adorable, soft-yellow cat face that's on her underwear  \n\\\u003eYou smother an explosive bout of laughter behind your teeth  \n\\\u003eShe crosses her legs, concealing the cat face  \n\\\u003e\"They were a gift… for myself…\" she throws her head to the side  \n\\\u003eIt's not like you're in a position to talk  \n\\\u003eYou're lying on your back, on the wooden floor of a shady anthro bar, with your pants and underwear around your ankles like cloth shackles  \n“No, no,\" you wave away her embarrassment. “I think they're the cute. Now, take them off and come over here.\"  \n\\\u003eShe pulls down her panties and slips out of them, and you can't help but notice the way her inner-thigh's fur is matter down from her need  \n\\\u003eShe eases down next to you, one free hand stroking your slick cock  \n\\\u003eYou tilt your head and lean in for a kiss  \n\\\u003eShe mirrors your efforts  \n\\\u003eYou roll on top of her, uninterested in shedding her blouse for her  \n\\\u003eYou love the way it looks on her  \n\\\u003eAnd before you resume kissing, you just stare into one another\u0026nbsp; as thunder booms outside like the distant echoes of a shotgun  \n\\\u003eRain pelts the windows, but you're too lost in each other's eyes to care  \n\\\u003eThe first thing you see, you're ashamed to admit, is your wife's eyes  \n\\\u003eThe same care and gentle love that reflected your image for years  \n\\\u003e\"Why'd you stop?\" She asks with a half-smile. “Got something on my muzzle?\"  \n\\\u003eYou blink away the memory and ground yourself in Emma, in the here, in the now  \n\\\u003eYou plant a kiss on her cheek  \n“No, just got distracted by you.\"  \n\\\u003eShe giggles  \n\\\u003eAgain, you start kissing down the nape of her neck, teasing soft gasps from her, playing her body like an instrument  \n\\\u003eBut you don't stop at her breasts  \n\\\u003eYou keep working your way down and down  \n\\\u003eAnd when you reach her slender waistline, her body jumps up a tiny bit  \n\\\u003e\"Oh God.\" She rakes her claws against the floor  \n\\\u003eYou pretty much know what's going to happen next  \n\\\u003eYou kiss down to her thighs  \n\\\u003eLower…  \n\\\u003eAnd then to her inner thighs  \n\\\u003eShe parts her legs, giving you free access to her dripping sex  \n\\\u003eYou kiss along her inner thighs, working your way up to her clit  \n\\\u003eIn one long, drawn out motion, you drag your tongue between her lips, tasting her juices  \n\\\u003eThen you lap upwards, dragging it along her clit  \n\\\u003eThe sharpness of her gasp gives you pause  \n“Bad?\" You say  \n\\\u003e\"No, no, good.\" She moans. “Please keep going.\"  \n\\\u003eYou don't need more instruction  \n\\\u003eYou take some time just lapping at her juices and slyly working at her clit, practically squeezing more girl-cum out her  \n\\\u003eEach ministration of your tongue elicits a deep, guttural moan from her chest  \n\\\u003eAnd as you bear down on her with longer, more deliberate strokes of her tongue, you hear the sound of claws scraping into wood  \n\\\u003e\"Oh fucking- fuck- fuck fuck,\" she coos  \n\\\u003eYou hook your arms around her thighs and pull her closer to your wanting mouth  \n\\\u003eAfter a few minutes of stroking and sucking and licking at her pussy, her back starts to bow, rising, slowly, as if she could ascend to heaven right there  \n\\\u003e\"Fuck, I think I'm going to-\"  \n\\\u003eYou double down on your efforts  \n\\\u003eHer thundering orgasm rips the words from her throat  \n\\\u003eShe gasps, the orgasm rolling through her body in shuddering waves  \n\\\u003eYou hold on for the ride as she gently bucks and grinds herself against your tongue, smearing your face with her juices, which you don't mind one bit  \n\\\u003eAnd after what seems like hours, the orgasm wrung from her toned body, she finally settles back down to earth in a blissed out heap  \n\\\u003eYou're about to crawl away from her when she lazily catches you by the cheek  \n\\\u003e\"Anon, would you kiss me?\" She says, voice begging  \n\\\u003eHey she asked  \n\\\u003eYou crawl on top of her feeling her sodden body bending into yours, feeling the star-like heat radiating off of her  \n\\\u003eYou kiss for a bit, but you can't help but feel your need still present, pressing at the forefront of your mind like junkie ambling for his next fix  \n\\\u003eYour cock presses against her folds, and you want so badly to be inside of her  \n\\\u003eThe cheetah eases you against her  \n\\\u003eShe looks into your eyes, studying you  \n\\\u003e\"Is this… is this okay with you?\" She says in her strongest voice, though the orgasm still has her blitzed  \n\\\u003eYou nod very softly, and as your lips meet again, you press yourself into her  \n\\\u003eA heated moan slips from her as you push your way inside of her  \n\\\u003eAnd  \n\\\u003eGOD is she wet  \n\\\u003eIt's like having your whole being hugged by wet and pulsing velvet  \n\\\u003eThe further you get, the longer and more drawn out is her cooing  \n\\\u003eEmma places her palms on your back as you start to thrust into her wetness  \n\\\u003eIt's like every nerve in your body is being jolted with electricity  \n\\\u003eJust like her, it's been… awhile…  \n\\\u003eYou and her both gasp when you bottom, the full length of your member splitting her  \n\\\u003e\"God damnit,\" she digs her claws into your back. “Please don't stop.\"  \n\\\u003eYou wince, but soldier on, and soon enough, you're rhythmically pounding in to her  \n\\\u003eYou press your hot body against hers, the symmetry like two fault lines slipping past one another, and you can't ignore the blistering feeling of pleasure now running its way up from behind your groin up to the tip of your cock  \n\\\u003eAnd you also can't ignore the way her walls are clenching around you, tightening up, heralding the approach of her own second orgasm  \n\\\u003eYou close your eyes  \n\\\u003eHer claws rip through your dress shirt, but you don't even care anymore  \n\\\u003eBecause you feel your triumphant orgasm ripping through you right as hers hits with the same force  \n\\\u003eWave after wave of pulsing pleasure overtakes the both of you  \n\\\u003eYou can feel yourself twitching inside of her while her walls tighten up and pulse, wringing every last drop of cum out of your balls  \n\\\u003eAfter a few more blissful seconds, you crumble on top of her  \n\\\u003eDamn older body  \n\\\u003eWere you younger and in better shape you could have gone another round  \n\\\u003eBut you're spent  \n\\\u003eAnd so is she  \n\\\u003eYou collapse together in a blissed out heap, resting your head against her shoulder  \n\\\u003eYou can still feel yourself inside of her, but neither of you seem to care  \n\\\u003eThe feeling of warmth between you two Is more than enough  \n\\\u003eHer hot, exhausted breathing tickles your neck  \n\\\u003eYou crack a weak, tired smile  \n“It's been awhile for me too,\" you whisper in her sensitive ears  \n\\\u003eA shiver runs up her body, but she manages a mirroring, tired smile  \n\\\u003e\"I guess we're even then. But don't forget: I still won the race.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eSometime later you two end up naked and spent, laying together on the floor with nothing but your jacket to keep you two warm  \n\\\u003eEmma rests her head on your chest and purrs softly at the steady rhythm of your heartbeat  \n\\\u003eOutside, rain runs a steady drumbeat against the windows and the roof, while thunder booms in the distant, slate-gray skies  \n\\\u003eYou're stroking her fur with the gentlest of touches, just enough to make her shiver and bend herself into you  \n\\\u003eIt feels as natural as breathing by now, a mindless, autonomous behavior  \n\\\u003eAnd believe it or not, you're grounded, here, with her  \n\\\u003eHell, you're physically pinned to the floor by half of her body which is sprawled out on top of you  \n\\\u003eMemories drift in and out of your mind like scenes from a grainy film,  \n\\\u003eMemories of your wife  \n\\\u003eThey make sense, and they're beautiful in ways you can't comprehend  \n\\\u003eBut you don't get sad when you think of them  \n\\\u003eMaybe… it's okay to open yourself up again?  \n\\\u003eEmma purrs loudly, eyes shut, peacefully resting while the world drains itself out  \n\\\u003eAt moments like these, time feels suspended, luminous — even pointless  \n\\\u003eAs the thunder booms outside, and the wind rushes by in sharp gales, you let your body sink in to itself  \n\\\u003eYou settle against the warmth of the mammal next to you, your breathing finally reaching a beautiful syncronoicity, as two hearts beat as one  \n\\\u003eA deeply held breath escapes you  \n\\\u003e\"Anon?\" Emma says  \n\\\u003eYou can't see her face, but you can hear her voice  \n“Yes?\"  \n\\\u003e\"You're not going to leave any time soon, right?\"  \n\\\u003eYou pull her closer to you  \n“I hadn't planned on it, no. I think I'll take a sick day tomorrow.\"  \n\\\u003eShe lets out a pleased sigh  \n\\\u003e\"Good. Because it's raining, and I don't want you to catch a cold.\"  \n“You're so thoughtful,\" you say, half sarcastically  \n\\\u003eHer smile practically glows in the dark  \n\\\u003eA few more silent minutes pass before you allow your eyes to finally fall shut  \n\\\u003eEmma has long since fallen asleep, half curled up on your chest  \n\\\u003eThunder rumbles in the distance, low and muffled, as the rain drags itself down from the sky  \n  \nThe end  \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CK1zCi0z\\_Hk","series":{"name":"The /trash/ files","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1662880-chatting-on-tamed-com.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1663142-s-t-a-l-k-e-r-making-new-friends.json"}}