Nice Guys Finish Last
The following story isa work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher and may not be used or duplicated in whole or in part without the author's permission. This story contains adult situations and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.
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NICE GUYS FINISH LAST - Radical Gopher
The annual Christmas party was just barely getting underway when Sam Tyler arrived. The rust-colored fox had gotten a ride from one of his co-workers, Max, a young, gray-furred feline who worked in the mailroom. Being the youngest employee at 18, Max still lived at home and was thus able to use a large portion of his paycheck to indulge his love of pre-evolutionary cars. His latest acquisition was a 1955 Chevy, modified, of course, to function as a chick magnet.
Sam walked up to the front door of the rather substantial, seven bedroom house where the festivities were being held. It belonged to Mr. Cyrus Crenshaw, the owner and chief executive officer of Nexus Computers. While not the largest, nor most profitable hardware manufacturing company, it was, thanks to Crenshaw, a stable bulwark within an industry known for both rapid rise and decline. What made his reputation was not his business acumen, which was considerable. Rather it was the fact that he was one of those rare individuals who believed employee loyalty was what made a company successful, and loyalty was something that had to be earned.
Crenshaw was a good person to work for because he cared about his company and people. Not only did he share profits with his employees during the good times, but since the economic "downturn" two years ago, he had steadfastly refused to lay off any of his workers. Certainly, everyone had taken a pay cut in order to help alleviate problems caused by a tight credit market, but they still all had their jobs and their boss always found ways to keep morale high. This year's Christmas party was but one example.
Unable to pay a bonus or rent a banquet room, Crenshaw had instead opened his own home and hired a catering service owned by a wife of one of his employees. Sam, having once worked as a bartender became a volunteer mixologist. Others had pitched in on decorations and set up and it was really shaping up to be almost like a family get together.
As bartender, Sam had an opportunity to meet and talk briefly with almost everyone at the party. Ironically, he wasn't much of a drinker himself, so except for one rum and coke, very light on the rum, he was stone cold sober. The same could not be said for several of the partygoers, particularly a rather jovial bunch of sales-reps from some of the distribution houses that sold computer supplies. They were there not so much because they were a part of the Nexus "family," but because Crenshaw never missed an opportunity to mix potential profit with pleasure.
As the evening wore on, Sam found his gaze returning time and again to a coquettish, slim, elegantly dressed, vixen with emerald green eyes, beige on ochre fur and ebon hair that matched the fur of her hands, forearms and feet. He knew her from work and had quietly admired her from a distance ever since she'd first joined the company as head of the purchasing department.
Abigail Ross was 23, the same age as Sam, give or take a couple of months, and they had talked on occasion, but only at work. As much as he might want to get to know her better, he was hesitant. Being the assistant plant manager, he was the company's jack-of-all-trades and did everything from wiring, to carpentry to air-conditioning to repairing practically anything that broke, and occasionally supervising the janitorial staff. The only problem was that it left him feeling a little out of place with his co-workers, almost all of whom had college degrees.
The todd watched as one of the distributors, a very handsome white tiger, engaged the vixen in conversation. From the way Abby laughed and responded to him, it was obvious they had hit it off well. Sam sighed then got back to his bartending. Over the next several hours he dutifully mixed drinks and kept tabs on all the designated drivers making sure he didn't serve them any alcoholic drinks. No one complained. In fact Mr. Crenshaw had made it part of a pre-party lottery, awarding small prizes to those chosen to protect the company's "honor and reputation" as he'd humorously put it.
Sam had just finished serving a flaming eggnog when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He looked over to see Mr. Crenshaw. He was dressed up in a Santa suit and wore a robust smile. Being human, he was one of the few people in the company for whom the costume actually worked.
"Why don't you take a break for a while, mingle a bit and grab yourself some food. I'll take care of the bar."
"You sure, sir?" the fox asked.
"I'll have you know... I've mixed more drinks at more company parties than there are microchips in a Cray computer," he replied, smiling. "Now go take a break... that's an order."
Sam returned the smile and handed his apron and bar towel to his boss. When he thought about it, he was just a little hungry, so he quickly made his way to the buffet table. There, laid out were several dozen dishes, some generic, others species specific, but still edible by anyone with a yen to experiment. Going the traditional route, he plucked out several pieces of chicken, diced apples and yams and a couple of deviled eggs. Reaching for some utensils, his hand suddenly came in contact with one covered by soft, black fur. There was a very small snap of static and he yanked his hand back and looked up. There, right across from him was Abigail Ross.
The vixen looked at him and smiled as the inside of his ears blushed. "Sorry about that," he said softly, surprised that he even had a voice to talk with.
"Oh, that's alright... really," she said with a slight giggle. It didn't hurt." Sam thought her voice was like silk. "Here," she said, reaching over to a serving dish and picking up a long, white object which she deftly placed on his plate. "Try the mozzarella sticks, they delicious."
"Thank you," the todd said. "Have you tried the eggs yet? Tony told me his wife was using a special recipe tonight."
"No. Sorry, I haven't" the vixen replied. "I'm afraid I'm allergic to paprika." She glanced over Sam's shoulder. "Oh... Please excuse me," she hurriedly said. "I've got to get back to our guests." She nodded toward the white tiger and his friends. She held her hand in front of the fox with her thumb and forefinger only a quarter inch apart. "I'm this close to closing a deal on our new line of mother boards."
"Shouldn't the sales department be working out those kind of deals?"
The vixen's smiled turned just a little quirky and she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, if I can lock this down I don't think the boss would mind and I could use the bonus." She snatched up her food and strolled sedately over to the knot of sales reps, her tail flicking behind her.
Sam watched her go. For a moment or two he wanted to go pound his head against the wall. What had he been thinking? Sales department? Since when did he ever care about which department was responsible for what job? He should have been enthusiastic for her, maybe even something of a cheerleader, not some geek worried about which hole the square peg goes in.
The todd watched as she rejoined the small knot of sales reps, then went to an opposite corner to eat where he wouldn't have to see her. Nibbling lightly on his meal Sam struck up a conversation with a female mouse named Nancy Fletcher who worked in accounting. As cute as she was however, he didn't feel anything akin to the attraction he had towards Abby. Besides, it turned out she was already married to someone named Burleigh.
Sam finished eating and after politely listening to a couple of co-workers debate the economy for fifteen minutes he returned to the bar and took over again for Mr. Crenshaw. Over the next three hours the number of partygoers began to thin out. Sam started cleaning up, occasionally glancing across the room where Abby and the tiger were gathering their things. The vixen appeared to be somewhat tipsy, laughing, kissing and nuzzling the tiger as she tried to pull it together. The other sales reps had left and it appeared that the big cat was going to get lucky. They left arm in arm
The fox walked over to the couch where they had been sitting and started gathering dishes together. He abruptly stopped as he caught a faintly odd scent coming from one of the glasses. Holding it up to his nose pad he inhaled deeply. His eyes opened wide with shock then narrowed. He dumped the tray he was carrying on the couch and raced for the front door. Crenshaw, seeing the todd's unexpected reaction motioned to one of his employees and followed.
Sam reached the end of the driveway and looked around. The vixen and tiger were across the street next to a green sports coupe with a door open. They were locked together in a very passionate kiss and the tiger had one hand tucked inside Abby's dress as he felt out her breast. The vixen's jacket lay crumpled on the pavement next to them. The fox ran across the street. Reaching the couple he seized the other male by the shoulder and pulled him away, spinning him around and throwing him against the hood of the car. Taken by surprise, the tiger was slow to react.
Sam quickly patted down the sales rep's jacket, then reached into a pocket and yanked something out. The tiger, having a good forty pounds of muscle on the smaller todd, pushed himself off the hood and backhanded Sam across the face. Blood began dripping from the vulpine's nose pad. The larger male popped his claws and swiped at the todd, missing with his first swing, but connecting along the left side of Sam's neck.
The vulpine fell to the street, momentarily stunned. Before the tiger could do any more damage he was abruptly grabbed from behind hand held immobile by a large clydesdale-morph who was head of company security. Crenshaw knelt next to Sam and checked his employee over. The wounds on his neck were superficial. The human handed him a small handkerchief to press against his nose pad.
"What the hell is going on Sam?" Before the fox could answer he were interrupted by the sound of a distinctly feminine giggle. Crenshaw looked up, "Abby?"
The vixen was leaning against the car; an empty smile curling her muzzle as she softly chuckled at the others. The top of her dress was open and one hand sensuously circled a fully erect nipple. "Hi mister Cee," she said in a soft, erotic but definitely slurred voice. "Is it time to go to work yet?" She giggled at her own words. She straightened momentarily then staggered.
Standing, Crenshaw caught her before she fell over, accidentally brushing the back of one hand against her breast. She shuddered, moaned, then leaned in and tried to nuzzle with her boss. The human pulled back and looked haplessly at Sam.
The todd picked himself up off the ground, grabbed Abigail's jacket and draped it over the front of her dress. Laughing, the vixen cooperated, shoving her arms into the jacket sleeves so it covered her nakedness. He held out one hand, showing his employer the small vial he'd taken from the tiger.
"It's called Heat," he explained, "an illegal date rape drug that's genetically keyed to a specific species." Sam looked contemptuously at the sales rep. "That bastard had to have brought it intending to rape Abby from the beginning."
"Is she in any danger? Should we take her to the hospital?"
Sam shook his head. "Not in its straight form, uncut by any other drug. She's not comatose, so she hasn't been overdosed. The best thing we can do is get some liquids in her to dilute the drugs effects and let her sleep it off."
Crenshaw passed the vixen over to Sam then turned and glared at the tiger-morph before focusing on his security manager. "Can we have him arrested?"
The equine shook his head. "Not unless someone actually saw him put that in her drink, and since neither of us saw Sam take the vial away from him, it's just our word against his. It wouldn't stand up in court so the police won't do anything."
The human cursed under his breath then held out his hand. The clydesdale handed him a collapsible baton. Crenshaw snapped it out to its full length then jabbed one end into the tiger's midriff causing him to grunt. "You EVER show your furry ass around my company, or any of my people again and you're going to be paying a very long visit to the hospital!" He slammed the baton against the back of the car shattering a taillight to emphasize the point. "Now get the fuck out of here!"
The equine carefully released the tiger. Cowed, the sales rep quickly climbed into his car and drove off. As he did the clydesdale pulled out his cell-phone and speed-dialed a number. "Hey... Mack! How you doing? How's my favorite flatfoot? Good... Yeah I know you're on duty now but I wanted to let you know there's a green sports car, license number Adam 45 Robert, Nora, Victor. It's southbound on Cloverdale heading for Mooreland and probably the freeway. It's got a busted left tail light... You might want to give him a quick once over... Yeah... just like that.... No... just a concerned citizen.... Right... thanks.... You too!" He clicked the phone shut and looked over at the others. "What do you want to do now Mr. Crenshaw?
Seeing the vixen was half collapsed against Sam the human gestured for the equine to pick the girl up which he did with ease. Crenshaw then fished into his pocket and pulled out a set of car key. He tossed them to the fox. "Bring my car around will you? It's the black sedan parked behind the house."
"Why not take her inside to one of the guest rooms where she can sleep it off?" asked the vulpine.
"I don't want Abby to be embarrassed by having this become a company wide rumor."
Sam nodded his agreement and left. He quickly found the car and carefully pulled it around to the front of the street. No one as yet had noticed the late night confrontation.
The equine gently put the vixen into the front seat, strapped her in and placed her purse on her lap. Sam unbuckled and started to get out of the car, but Crenshaw stopped him.
"You have a license, right?"
The vulpine nodded.
"Good," his boss said. "Ben and I can't leave the party so I want you to get her home and baby-sit her until this stuff wears off. Understand?"
"But that might take a day or two!" Sam replied.
"If it does, then it does... I'm putting you on the clock for this so don't let me down," Crenshaw ordered. "I'll tell Max you got another ride home."
"Yes sir," he said, slipping the car into drive.
"Don't forget to call me and let me know how she's doing," Crenshaw called as they pulled away. He turned back towards the equine. "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink right now."
"Think he can be trusted?"
Crenshaw grinned. "You're talking about Sam... Right?"
The clydesdale returned the grin. "Yeah.... Right!"
* * * *
Sam had gotten about three blocks from the party when it dawned on him he didn't know where Abby lived. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, he carefully reached over and picked up the vixen's purse. Opening it, he found her driver's license and read the address. It was in a part of town he wasn't familiar with; fortunately, Mr. Crenshaw's car came equipped with a GPS. He entered the address and waited. Moments later the device came on.
"Proceed ahead point four miles to Mooreland Avenue."
Replacing the purse in Abby's lap, Sam put the car into drive and continued down the street.
"Turn right and continue two point six miles to the 470 freeway."
He did as instructed and was almost to the freeway when he spotted a green sports car pulled over to the side of the street. It was surrounded by no less than three police cars; all of which had their red and blue lights flashing. A white tiger with black stripes was sitting dejectedly on the curb, his hands cuffed behind him as one police officer kept a close eye on him. Two more were off to the side talking and a fourth was standing behind the open trunk of the sports car taking pictures of something inside. Sam couldn't help but smile to himself. The tiger was apparently into more than just drugging and raping women.
Reaching the freeway, the todd continued south several miles, then, guided by the GPS, wended his way through a residential neighborhood until he arrived in front of a small, bungalow style house. He pulled into the driveway just as Abigail began to stir. The vixen looked blearily at Sam.
"Where are we?" she slurred.
"You had a little too much to drink," the fox fibbed, "so Mr. Crenshaw asked me to drive you home."
"He did? Oh... that was... was nice of him," the vixen replied. She looked down at her backward jacket and giggled, flapping the arms. "No fashion sense... None at all. You men are all alike," she snickered.
Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and went around to her side of the car and opened the door. She struggled for a moment or two with her own seatbelt, then managed to unhook it, stood and keeled over into the todd's arms. The vixen wrapped herself around him as she slowly slid down Sam's body, coming to a stop just below his belt. Tightening her grip, she began sniffing and nuzzling against his crotch with predictable results.
"Somebody wants to come out and play," Abigail giggled. She looked up at Sam. "Do you want to play with me? Please?"
"Ah... Ah... later... maybe," the fox squeaked, lifting her back to her feet. "Let's... Ah... go inside first, okay?"
"Hoo-Kay!" she replied. Together, they staggered up to the porch. Abby fumbled for a minute or two searching for her house key before finally retrieving it. No matter how hard she tried though, she couldn't get it to fit in the lock. Eventually, Sam gently took it from her and opened the door.
Entering the house the todd reached over and snapped on the living room lights. The room was nicely appointed. Floral patterned sofa; chairs and beige tables complimented soft pastel pink and lavender walls. Flowers and hanging pots with green plants filled the room. In one corner stood a small, undecorated Christmas tree with a few boxes of tinsel, a holly wreath and some mistletoe; all waiting to be assigned their rightful place for the holiday. An alcove held a dinning table and chairs with an open, spacious kitchen next to it
The vixen suddenly pulled away from Sam and tottered toward the hallway. "Baff-rooom," she muttered, peeling off the jacket and dropping both it and her purse on the floor.
The fox followed close enough to catcher her if necessary. He stopped when she successfully negotiated her way through the bathroom door, closing it behind her. He returned to the living room and picked up her jacket and purse, carefully laying them across the dining room table. Going into the kitchen, Sam searched the cupboards until he found a tall glass, which he filled with water.
When Abby came out of the bathroom, she was naked save for a pair of white lace panties and high-heeled sandals. The todd handed her the glass, trying unsuccessfully to avert his gaze from the graceful curves of her body. She took it and gulped it thirstily. Tiny rivulets of water trickled across her chin and along her neck and chest, plastering down the fur wherever they flowed. It didn't register with her at all that she was standing fully exposed in front of another fur.
She handed the glass back to Sam and smiled coquettishly. "More... Please?"
He quickly obliged her and she downed the second glass with equal enthusiasm. The fox watched as one large drop of water hypnotically traced a path down her stomach, around her navel and came to a stop just above the elastic of her panties, almost as if drawing a line on a treasure map. He shook his head, frantically trying to clear the thought and focus only on the moment.
She set the glass down on a small side table and smiled at Sam. The vixen leaned forwarded and wrapped her arms around his chest placing the side of her head against him. "I can hear... hear... your heart," she hissed with a soft, slurred sibilance. It's going really, really fast. Are you scared or excited?" Abby stood and looked into his eyes and smiled gently. "I think it's both," she whispered.
The vixen took hold of Sam's jacket lapel and kissed him full on the mouth, holding him there for what seemed like an eternity. Breaking the kiss, she began walking slowly backward, pulling him along until they reached the door of her bedroom. She pushed it open with her butt and led him across the threshold.
The fox was desperate. On the one hand there was nothing more he wanted to do than to enfold the vixen in his arms and kiss his way down her neck. On the other, he knew her present affection was drug induced and he didn't want to take an unfair advantage, especially since he had to live with himself later.
He gently placed his hands on her hips and separated himself from her. Abby's eyebrows rose in confusion and she sat down on her bed.
"Is something wrong?"
"No... No absolutely nothing," he said, trying to think fast. "It's just... just you're so beautiful I want to look at you, to drink in your splendor so I will always remember you."
"Flatterer," she giggled.
"No...Really," the todd said, looking around the room. His eyes alighted on a long, thick, cream-colored, terrycloth bathrobe draped across her vanity chair. "You know what I think is really sexy?"
"No. What?"
"A half-naked girl in a bathrobe."
"Your kidding," she laughed.
"Honest Injun!" Sam stood, scooped the robe off the chair and held it open for her. "Here, let me show you."
Laughing, the vixen stood and allowed him to slide the bathrobe up her arms and across her shoulders. He folded it closed then tied the cloth belt with his best Boy Scout knot. The robe didn't come down as far as he'd thought, ending at her knees and not her ankles, but it did hide the important parts.
Standing her in front of the mirror of her vanity he pointed. "There... See what I mean?"
"Not... really," she said, her mouth turning down into a little cub's kind of pout.
"Well... try posing. You know, like a supermodel."
Abby swept both hands up through her hair, crossing one behind her head so he was grasping the elbow of the other which she held straight up. The bathrobe pulled tight and hugged her figure. She smiled and then broke out in peals of laughter. "If only my mama could see me now." She looked around. "I need a picture... picture of this. Where'... where's my cell phone? It should be in my purse."
"You left your purse in the living room." Sam offered.
"Ha!" The vixen whirled unexpectedly and took a step toward the door before staggering and toppling over backwards onto the bed. She curled up in a spasm of laughter that lasted for almost a minute. The laughter was so infectious that Sam grinned in spite of himself.
When she stopped she looked up at the fox. "I'm still thirsty, would you get me another glass of water?"
He left, returning moments later with another large glass. Thirst was a good sign. The drug was working its way through her more rapidly than he had thought it would. When she finished she lay back on the bed and yawned sleepily, patting the mattress beside her. He sat down and she took his hand, nuzzling it up against her cheek ruff.
"You're a good guy, Sam," she muttered, "but you know what?"
"What?"
"You're too damned shy and polite!" she giggled. "I remember my first day at work, when we met... You remember?"
"Uh huh!"
"You'd been working on the air-con... conditioner or something... maybe the copy machine. I don't know which. Anyway, when Mr. Crenshaw introduced us I remember shaking your hand and you smelled a bit like machine oil... just like my dad did when I was little." She paused for a moment, her eyes misting over. "He died when I was only twelve and I really... really loved him. I always felt safe when he was around. Then I met you and you smelled so much like him that when I got home I cried for a couple of hours."
"I'm sorry... I wouldn't ever want to make you cry," Sam whispered softly.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" she sniffled "You don't get it."
"Get what?"
She sat up next to him, eyes overflowing with tears. "You're doing it all over again. You're making me feel all safe and warm, just like he did and... and... and I'm go... going to start crying." She wrapped both arms around the todd and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. Abby clung to him, shoulders shaking for almost fifteen minutes as he tried to comfort her, stroking his hands through her hair and brushing the tears from her cheeks.
Slowly her weeping faded and she hiccupped a couple of times before looking up at Sam. "I... I... I... think... I feel sick!" she abruptly announced.
Abby made it to the bathroom with Sam's help. When she finished he brought her back to the bedroom, lay her down and got her another small glass of water to rinse the taste from her mouth. She stretched out on the bed and within moments was fast asleep. The fox removed her high-heeled sandals then pulled the comforter up and over her before turning out the light.
He stayed awake the rest of that night and all of the next day, helping Abby get to the bathroom every time she woke up, sick to her stomach. He remembered to call Mr. Crenshaw several times to keep him advised. When it finally appeared that the vixen had gotten most of the drug out of her system and she was no longer throwing up, he stretched out on the couch in her living room, exhausted. He didn't stir until he felt something jabbing him in the side.
Opening his eyes Sam looked up to see Abby standing over him, hair disheveled and eyes red, but no longer dilated, holding a fireplace poker in her hand.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, a growl in her throat.
"Uh, well... You kind of got sick at the party and Mr. Crenshaw asked me to bring you home and keep an eye on you."
"The Christmas party?"
He nodded.
"How come I don't remember anything about getting sick or you bringing me home. And how the hell did I get undressed and into my bathrobe."
"Well, I sort of helped you..."
"I KNEW IT... PERVERT... PEEPING TOM. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE... NOW!"
"But..."
"NOW! DAMN IT... RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BRAIN YOU."
Scrambling, Sam made his way to the door with the vixen yelling invectives at him the whole way. He finally managed to get outside, barely avoiding having his tail caught in the door as it slammed shut behind him. The todd looked at his watch and sighed. It was almost five-thirty in the morning. Worse, it was Monday and he had to be at work by eight.
Sam stopped at a café not far from work and had breakfast, the first real meal he'd eaten since the party. He didn't blame Abigail for throwing him out. Irrational anger was one of the last side effects of the drug and he knew that she would be back to normal in a few hours, but it still hurt.
He glanced at the newspaper next to him and saw a small article about a local businessman who'd been arrested for having several kilos of cocaine in his car, along with a number of illegal weapons. The picture accompanying the story was that of the white tiger from the party. Well, at least there seemed to be some justice in the world.
He checked his watch and gave Mr. Crenshaw a call. When his employer found out Sam intended on coming into work, he told him just to drive the car over to the factory and leave it in his parking spot. He would take a cab. The fox quickly finished his breakfast and drove the rest of the way into work.
Sam spent most of the day working on getting the heating system checks done. Weather forecasts had predicted a sharp drop in the mild temperatures they'd been experiencing and a sixty percent chance of snow, just in time for Christmas Eve. Sam wanted to be ready for that. Mr. Crenshaw dropped by during the day to thank the todd for his help and pick up the key to his car. He then gave him an envelope containing a couple hundred dollars and a pair of tickets to a popular musical that was playing downtown.
He found out later from Nancy Fletcher that Abigail had called in sick that morning and probably wouldn't be back at work until after Christmas. The rest of that day and the next felt rather gray, and not just because of the clouds which had moved in.
Walking to the bus stop after work Sam saw the first few flakes of snow descending from above, as predicted. One flake landed on his nose pad and melted immediately, causing him to smile ruefully. For once the television weather people had been right and there would indeed be snow for Christmas Eve. He would have to remember to call his parents in Florida and wish them a happy holiday. With the family scattered all over the country, Sam had already mailed off all his presents and had carefully put the one's he'd received in return under the tree in his apartment.
Wednesday morning dawned cloudy, crisp and very cold. A thin layer of snow covered everything except the roads, which were slick, but navigable for the most part. Sam arrived at work, to find that Mr. Crenshaw had, as was usual, announced that due to Christmas Eve it would only be a half-day. As it turned out the holiday was only one reason to celebrate. Apparently, Abby's salesmanship had resulted in a large order coming in for the new Nexus motherboards. Mr. Crenshaw was so happy that he was handing out last minute $100 bonuses to all the employees.
Sam used the shortened day and its correspondingly reduced workload to do some preventative maintenance on one of the copy machines. He had just finished when he was called into the main office. He arrived and was taken aside by Mr. Crenshaw who handed him about ten envelopes. "I need you to personally deliver these to the employees who are out sick," he explained. "Normally, I'd just put them in the mail, but I want them to have them today, not after New Years."
"How do I...?"
"My wife's picking me up from work this afternoon, so you can take my car," his boss said. "I know you can drive it and the GPS will help you find everyone's residence with no fuss or bother." He handed the fox a list of employees and their addresses. Make sure you complete the deliveries in order, from one to ten. That way you'll be finished before rush hour starts. Oh, and feel free to use the car. You can return it Friday morning, after the holiday."
"Yes sir," Sam replied. "Thank-you."
"No, no... Thank you!" Crenshaw said smiling as he reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a Santa hat. "Oh, and one more thing, you might as well wear this. If you're going to deliver presents on Christmas Eve, you might as well look the part." Handing Sam the car keys he shook the todd's hand and ushered him out of the office with a cheery "Merry Christmas."
Delivering the Christmas bonuses took the edge off some of the gloom Sam had been feeling the last few days. He was greeted jovially at each stop and before he knew it found himself with several zip-lock bags filled with Christmas cookies, cakes or other treats. His last stop was at Abigail's. It had started snowing again as he nervously walked up the icy path to her front porch He rang the doorbell and waited a moment or two before the front door opened.
Sam nearly jumped out of his fur. There stood Abigail Ross dressed in her cream-colored, knee-length bathrobe. Her hair had been elegantly coiffed and highlighted and her fur was delicately scented with vanilla and nutmeg. Around her head she wore a small wreath of holly sprinkled with mistletoe and a red velvet ribbon and bow circled her neck. One side of the bathrobe had flopped down leaving the shoulder beneath fetchingly exposed. She was, unquestioningly the most beautiful female the fox had ever seen.
Without a word the vixen reached across and placed her fingers against Sam's jaw, turning his head slightly so she could see the row of welts on his neck. Her hand brushed against them and she looked into his eyes. In that instant, the todd knew that she knew... everything. She smiled up at him. The warmth of feeling that radiated from her was so powerful that for the first time, Sam wasn't afraid or nervous. She took his hand and led him into the house, closing the door behind them.
THE END