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_Standard disclaimer:

This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately._

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Hey y'all, and welcome to reading my new story!

If you want to comment on the story, please! It all will help me to become a better writer. Faves and votes are also most welcome!

Have a nice time y'all ;)

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I had left the Dobie's place early enough to get by my apartment to have a proper change of clothes and a nice, feline grooming before I caught the bus to work. It was not a novel feeling to suffer from a tiny case of hangover when going to work, but it had been a while since I had also been suffering from sex hangover.

My sheath itched a little bit despite the shower, but it was a good kind of an ache. Reminded you that you were a male, after all, and a male who had gotten some laid, too! The feeling of my sex-depleted balls throbbing was a nice reminder of the nice Dobie who was probably of the better kind of guys you might expect to encounter on a gay bar.

What kind of a name was Ramrod anyway?

Well, just the kind of a name that brought just the right dirty thoughts out of a horny fur's mind I suppose. Sure worked me who just wanted to have an innocent drink and ended up doing some heavy duty ass pounding on a strange fur's bed.

My breath fogged up the window of the city bus as I peered out, watching the furs on the sidewalk go on along their ways. It was cold, but there was no snow on the ground at the moment, so generally things were simply very cold and very miserable for most. I didn't mind the cold, you could always wear a warm coat and crank up the thermostat. I've always liked watching the seasons change ever so slowly and manipulating the world in both subtle and powerful ways.

Feeling the slight chill on the crowded bus reminded me of the warmth of the Dobie underneath me when we had sex. He really had a smooth pelt for someone of that size and demeanor. That was some nice muscles he packed on that frame, too. It was really a big surprise that the large doggie was so much into being on bottom. Can't say that I minded it, though. I'd been with a few bigger versatile guys in my past, but they tended to be...a bit strange about it, I guess, would be the word. Lots of posturing and growling and telling how they really wanted it, or pretending to be nonchalant about the whole business of getting something stuck under their tails. I don't see the point to pretend you didn't like it even if you were practically wagging your tail at the guy operating a cock at your ass department.

My sheath warmed up a bit as my mind wandered over to the erotic things, and I snuffled and shook my head to get the thoughts out of my system for now. I didn't want to work all day boned up, after all.

The jerking motion of the bus coming to a stop brought me finally away from my thoughts. I filed out of the city bus amongst the other busy furs and only had to take a few odd steps on the sidewalk to reach the old glass door that read: "ALBRECHT BROTHERS" on old stenciled typeface, and underneath that was one of those genuine "OPEN/CLOSED" signs, telling that the business was open indeed.

I stepped into the comforting warmth of the shop and was immediately greeted by the perky eyes and ears and boobs of Marge, a cougar who was much younger than her name suggested, although she would not pass as a college girl.

"Morning Rory!" the cougar yelped from behind the cash register where she was currently serving a wolf who had a backpack and corduroy pants, and a large silver earring.

"Morning," I smiled at the cougar as I passed by the glass counter holding the two cash registers.

The wolf gave me a glimpse when I walked past him and I gave him a glimpse and noticed that he had been buying a 2,000-page book on physics that we had in stock for the local college.

Even geeks were hip nowadays, it seemed, I wondered as I walked along the aisle of the "upstairs" section of Albrecht Brothers which stocked not only the college textbooks but also the hottest best sellers and whatnot. A couple of steps lead down to the "downstairs" where the aisles were more narrow and the lights were low, and that's where I was often found too, behind my own little counter. It was now manned by Mason, a wolf, who gave me a cursory nod in greeting before tipping his eyes down back to a book he had open on the counter.

I gave him another small smile as well before I squeezed myself between the shelves of the Obscure Poetry and Beautiful Books sections and through the door to the back room. One corner held a small fridge and coffee making equipment as well as few chairs for quick coffee breaks while most of the room was taken over by open cardboard boxes swarming with new book deliveries waiting to be checked in. The room was currently deserted and I was quite grateful for the peace that this entailed. The locker room was equally empty.

My locker was located between Marge's and Crystal's, who was one of the college girls who worked out during the weekends. I put my coat and winter shoes in and then pulled on the signature red, collared shirt which had a small "YOU'RE BEING SERVED BY: Rory" on the chest. There was a small mirror on the inside of my locker door, and I could use it to check out that my mane was nicely groomed and my boyish, friendly smile was in place. I gave the hem of my shirt a proper tug to make sure to get a few remaining wrinkles off before I was ready to re-emerge to the word as Rory, the leonine bookstore clerk.

I gave the downstairs section a little stroll before heading to the well-lit and aseptic upstairs. I was almost immediately approached by an otter girl who gave me a broad smile and asked where the vampire books were.

I waved an almost mechanical paw towards one corner of the main level, in the general direction of a glossy stand that was decorated with images of brooding, blood-thirsty teenaged vampires.

"Just follow the Edward signs," I told the beaming girl who was off and about before I could remind her of the special discount on True Blood books.

I padded over to the cash counter and settled into my place behind the counter for once, to at least to pretend that I was working. It seemed to be pretty much a slow day, and I didn't want to spend all of it hunched at the back room tapping in book ISBN numbers to the inventory database.

"Have a nice day and enjoy your read, "Marge spoke to a young tiger whose huge paws were holding a minuscule book unsurprisingly titled "10 Steps to Those Killer Abs".

"Thanks," the tiger growled and disappeared in a swift stride as if being caught in a bookshop might hurt his reputation.

Marge closed the till and turned to face me, leaning against the counter in a manner that flattered her noticeable bosom. I had to admit that she did have pretty nice, tan fur tone on her chest, unashamedly displayed with her low cut shirt. Her white cheeks were pulled up along with her toothy smile.

"Hello, muffin," she spoke in a gently purring voice, her thick tail making a broad loop behind her.

"Hey, sweets," I replied with a smile, leaning a paw against the cash register to make it look like I was just about to take in another customer, even if there were none in sight. "Slow day?"

"It's always slow at this hour, Rory," she replied, flicking an ear at me.

"Guess it is. I see Crystal left already."

"She had a dentist's appointment and because the place is deserted I told she could leave early."

"Cool," I snuffled, scratching my chin.

"You do anything fun last night?" Marge questioned me with a smirk.

My sheath gave me a jumping reminder of the fun I had gotten up to, and I shrugged.

"I went out for a drink. It was okay."

"Awwww," her tail made looping motions almost swift enough to knock down a small stand of brochures from the counter. "All alone?"

"Yeah," I replied.

I wasn't stretching the truth, not really. I went to the Ramrod alone for a drink, nothing more.

"Aww, that shucks," she purred.

I flicked my ears at her and chuckled.

"I didn't know you carry such a concern over my free time," I smirked.

"What else is workplace for?" Marge shrugged.

I flicked my tailtip against her calf and chuckled.

"Well, like, working?" I suggested, tilting my head towards the beaming otter girl who was coming over towards us with her arms full of books with black covers on them.

She was met with the choice of a smiling cougar or a big lion that was Rory, as in, me, and she went for the less imposing Marge for this time.

"Heyah," the cougar smiled broadly for the girl and blocked me out of her world for now.

The otter left soon after swinging her blood-dripping array of new books in an Albrecht Brothers carrier bag, leaving Marge free to pester me again with her curious questions. My ears flattened briefly at the idea of another round of the questions game.

"It's really a shame that a muffin like you goes out all alone," she smirked to me.

"How do you know I don't go and pick up a different girl every night?" I tipped my head at her, raising my brow.

"You're not the type," Marge winked.

"Oh?"

"No, I like to think that you're a big romantic who likes candlelit dinners and movie nights and hot air balloon rides and..."

My ears perked up with as much speed as my brow as I stared at her, shocked.

"Hot air balloons?"

"What's more romantic than floating over the whole wide world, just you and your lover and a bottle of champagne and...," her eyes fluttered ridiculously and she sighed.

"And what about the guy that actually operates the balloon?" I suggested.

Marge snorted.

"Maybe you're not as romantic as I thought after all," hers ears dropped.

"Maybe I'm afraid of heights," I winked.

"Maybe you're full of hot air yourself, muffin," her eyes lingered on my flat midriff and I amused her by giving my belly a scratch through my screaming red shirt.

"Maybe I've got my eyes on someone and I don't look for anyone else?" I chuckled.

"Nahh, you're a stud, your kind are not ready to commit before you're like...forty," she accused me with pouty lips.

I threw my head back theatrically and counted mentally to five before looking at her again.

"My kind?" I gave her a toothy smirk.

"Yeah, muffins. Studmuffins."

"Seriously, Marge, you should read some of the books on the Gender Studies sections and see what they say about reducing men and women into sexual objects," I spoke, deadpan.

The cougar chuckled, her nasal laughter making my ears ring. My paw resting on the counter could feel the glass resonate with her laughter. Seriously.

"You read books from the Ellen fan club section?" she winked at me.

I shrugged.

"I have to know the blurbs so that I can tell the customers what they want to look at when they ask me," I smiled cheekily, almost genuinely.

I know she doesn't mean anything bad about it. She doesn't know about me. She doesn't have to. We snark at all the customers, after all. The Twihards and the Harlequin-book buying housewives, and the geeks and the literature students who cream their pants once they get their paws on Middlemarch or Tess d'Ubervilles. Heck, we even laugh at the old geezers who rummage through the downstairs treasure trove in an attempt to find something to catch their lost youth and end up buying the Old Man and the Sea from the Discount Classics shelf.

So why not to give a giggle or two at the rainbow boys and girls who come in to buy the books that they think will change the world? Why not indeed?

"Good day!" Marge chimed to a couple of middle-aged fox ladies who had entered, wearing winter coats so heavy that they looked more like badgers. "Anything I can help you with?"

"We're just browsing," came a curt reply from one of the foxes who were already heading for the Contemporary Romance & Mystery section.

"Just give us a wave if you need any help and we'll be right there with you!" she smiled from one perky ear to ear and I joined in, giving the ladies a fine cat grin and hoped that my puffed out mane would make a good impression on them.

Marge's smile faltered as soon as the duo was out of earshot and she gave me a dirty look. I think she was mouthing "bitch" at me just before she was again putting out her best smile for another customer, a bespectacled brown bear of about college age.

I liked the young customers, because they reminded me that I still wasn't too old myself. Maybe that's some kind of reverse psychology or something weird. Maybe I should read more from the textbook section.

"Welcome to Albrecht Brothers," I chimed in, "how can I help you?"

The bear gave me an almost scared look before he disappeared behind the Sci-Fi & Suspense aisle.

My ears dropped at my unsuccessful attempt at good customer service and snuffled.

"I'll call him a biatch too," Marge grinned with her tongue poking out between her front teeth.

"Biatch?" I leered back.

"What can I say, Goggy listened to 50 Cent all night. Gimme a break."

"Who's Goggy?"

"Gordon, my boyfriend of THREE months, Rory," she poked me verbally.

"Ahh, right...." I slurred, "must've been the name that confused me. Last time you spoke of a boyfriend you spoke about...Rodney or.."

"Nah, he's over being Rodney, he's Goggy now. He's artistic like that."

"Artistic?" I chuckled.

"You still haven't joined his Facebook fan group," she gave me a murderous look.

"I don't hang out there a lot," I mused, "keep getting friend requests from people I went to high school and college with, and you know that kinda people, you've got nothing in common with them. Got nothing to say at all."

"Talk about it," she shrugged, "I mean...liberal arts majors...Jesus...for a while my Facebook friends list was like a college reunion from hell. Ex-boyfriends, ex-friends, ex-professors..."

"Ex-professors?"

"Yeah, that old bat, Mrs. Cludge, she wanted to know if I still do interpretive dancing."

"Did you do dancing at college? I thought you majored in English, like Mason does."

"Duh, everyone here has majored in English but failed to write a novel that sells, got laid off from the newspapers because of the credit crunch OR simply was too scared of kids to be licensed as a teacher," Marge ranted at me and took a really deep breath after she was done.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the hidden wisdom under her snarking.

"Did you try to write a novel?" I teased her ruthlessly.

Days this slow should be made redundant, I decided quietly.

"Didn't I give you a copy of my last NaNoWriMo?" Marge suggested.

I scratched my chin.

"Was it the one about the murderous troll that lived inside the old fridge of that badger granny, or the one about the time-travelling accordionist whose accomplish was a cat burglar cheetah?" I frowned.

Marge's tail swiped widely again as she snorted.

"That first one's Cold Cuts, I did that the year before, but now you're confusing The Magic Tone with Cat Caught Your Tongue Diamond. They're two separate stories, Rory! The Magic Accordionist's travelling companion is called Isabella, and she's a former Green Beret and a model."

I gave her my best confused kitty face and pouted a little.

"Sorry, Marge, you're just so...so...prolific that I'm having trouble keeping track of you!" I tried to be diplomatic about it and brush it off as a mistake and not as the obvious non-reading of the stories.

"Well, I'm talking about getting them to Amazon so, let's keep the hopes up," she replied before turning to flash a huge smile for an arriving Goth girl, probably just to heckle the brooding character with her overt cheerfulness, and I was left to wonder whether she was joking or not.

"Welcome to Albrecht Brothers, can I help you?" Marge beamed.

The Goth panther turned her head shyly towards us and displayed some kind of Marilyn Manson zombie contact lenses on her gaze as she stared at us. Even Marge's smile faltered a little bit.

"Forensic pathology, please."

She really had a deep voice, too. I bet she put it on.

I jumped in to rescue and waved a big paw towards her required destination.

"Go past the physics and biology section there," I detailed, "and then there's the medical textbooks, and if you cant' find it, just give me a wave."

"Thank you."

She floated away with the lapels of her leather coat flapping about behind her. Marge rubbed her eyes and snuffled as she caught her whiskers accidentally.

"That was...weird."

"Can't med students be obsessed with a death-glorifying niche subculture?" I smirked.

"Who's ever going to want to have their blood pressure taken by someone who looks like that?" Marge shook her head.

I gave her a honest, slightly pouty smile.

"Marge, by the sound of her book choice, her patients will never complain."

"You're giving me all wrong kind of ideas, Rory," she snorted and tapped the surface of the counter, making clicks with her painted claws.

I was just about to open my maw to say something to her in retaliation when the phone in my pocket vibrated briefly in a sign of a received text message.

My tail flicked and my ears jumped.

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Here we go!

If you want to comment on the story, please! It'll help me to become a better writer.

Thanks for reading!