FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Arya grips the arm of her chair, but the dog places his hand upon hers. "Shh... no need to be tense," he says. "After all, we're all friends here on this train. I heard rumors that a woman of your distinction was hiding out in the plains, far from society. Imagine my surprise when my sister and I run into her. Never had I thought you'd have a curiosity for the type of business we conduct, Arya."

"What do you want?" she asks. "Are you working for..."

"Your uncle?" he asks, blinking. "Oh, yes, of course. That's why I came to talk to you with the utmost of trust. No. You're not found out, not yet, at least. But, I do have a proposition for you, if you're willing to hear it. Something, perhaps, that could be beneficial for the both of us."

"What could a couple of perverts want with me?" Arya hisses, but she keeps her voice down, hunching over close to keep the conversation private.

"Perverts? Please, how Puritanical. We are merely providing a service. My employers have an eye out for talent, and my sister and I are talent scouts, you see. When you 'died,' the organization wept for the potential loss. Obviously, there are more candidates out there, as you could see from our little audition in the private cars."

"Audition!?" Arya rears back, some of the passengers casting wary glances over at her, but quickly huddle back when her eyes catch them. "You were torturing him."

The door to the next car opens, and the trolley boy strolls on out, a bit more pep in his step since the last time, and looking none the worse for wear.

"Ah, Mr. Mïttehalle!" he says, giving the dog a happy wave before handing him a small tray of meats, and a glass of bubbling drink "Have a lovely trip."

"And to you, my flexible friend. Cheers."

The trolley boy saunters along, humming a cheery tune, leaving Arya to sit, slack-jawed and dumbfounded.

"You seem perplexed. Perhaps that's to be expected of a woman who's only sense of camaraderie comes from working for the mob." Such barbarians seeking power through means of intimidation and coercion. Please, that's not the way to do it at all." He takes a sip of his drink, winces, and decides not to go for any more.

"Who are you people?" Arya asks once more, her eyes settling on the prime cuts of meat.

"I am Mauruvius Mïttehalle of the Pleasure Society. Talent scout and talent, when the occasion calls for it, but rarely these days do people wish for such services. That, I suppose is something my sister indulges in with more bravado than I, as you could see." He whips out a card from his breast pocket and hands it to her between two fingers.

She plucks it from him, seeing his name and all the information he just said right on it. "You're... a legal organization... not underground?"

"Legal where it matters, clandestine where it would make people happiest. You're traveling back home, I take it? It pays to have friends in such dire circumstances, as we do have a chapter in the city. Perhaps, we can be of some help to each other?"

"You knew I was going to be on this train all along."

"If I thought it would impress you, I'd say 'yes,' but really, where is that going to get us? I've introduced myself and my organization. As far as I'm concerned, my job here is done. If you excuse me, I need to throw this garbage away," With that, he stands and heads back where he came from. "But, if you change your mind, you know where to find me if you wish to speak more and get away from these conditions."

Soon after he leaves, the cold and alienated feeling from before wafts over her again, leaving her with her own thoughts for the time being, but at least she has room to sit and think.

Later, the trolley boy comes back down along the hall, whistling happily. She raises her hand, just slightly, but thinks against it and lets him walk off on his own. After her conversation, she's no longer hungry.

Whether it's boredom or just not wanting to have to deal with the scratching of the hushed voices around her, she picks herself back up and slithers on through the cars. She doesn't allow herself to think as she makes it to the private car. She doesn't question herself as she grabs the door handle. She doesn't even want to reconsider her actions as she slides the door open.

Sitting next to each other on the bench facing the front, the Mïttehalles are both fully dressed and engrossed in their reading material. The female is the first to speak up. "Brother, I believe that makes me the victor of this bet."

"You only took it to be contrary to my own bet." Mauruvius says, pulling out a large bill from his pocket. "There you go, sister. Please do not waste it on frivolity."

"What else do we do?" she asks. "Our work is pleasure, and pleasure is our work." She stands up, brushing her skirt free of its wrinkles, and holds her hands out. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss. I am Mia Mïttehalle. It is certainly a joy to make your acquaintance. Now then, please, sit." She motions to the seat facing the back of the train.

Arya takes her hand a moment, just to be polite, but in the back of her head, she cannot see this dog without seeing her sitting on her knees with her nose full of gazelle crotch. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have come in. This isn't like me."

"With all due respect," Mia continues, breaking the contact with her. "Are you quite sure you know what it means to be 'you'? Society is full of many cultural mores and taboos that we cannot rightfully be true to ourself without fear of scorn."

Arya slips down into the seat, listening to the dog's continued words.

"That's what the Pleasure Society is all about, you see. Take that lovely trolley boy. What was his name?" She looks to her brother.

Mauruvius snickers, turning a page in his book. "Why should I bother to remember, you were the one indulging his pedestrian fantasy."

Mia shrugs and turns back to Arya. "Well, take him, for example. Poor boy is always working and as soon as we mentioned our profession, he jumped at the opportunity to gush about all of his hidden desires." She sits back down, crossing one leg over the other, folding her hands into her lap. "I'd say we did that service boy a good service today, wouldn't you, Brother?"

"Oh, yes!" He says, rolling his eyes. "It was our pleasure. Mia's more than mine, but then again, a happy customer is a good one."

"So, then," Mia continues, leaning in close. "Miss Arya, I would love to hear from you... what is your desire?"