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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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Hello y'all, and welcome to read my latest chapter!

If you have anything to comment about the story, please do! It will help me to become a better writer. Faves and votes are luvv too ;)

Have a good read!

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I dug my phone out of my pocket after a quick look around to make sure nobody would think it suspicious that I was using my phone during work hours. I flipped the cover and saw the familiar: "MESSAGE RECEIVED" text complete with the little "MOM" signature at the end.

Ack...

I'd check it out later, I decided, this wasn't time to try to convince mum in a text that yes, I would come to visit really soon. I flipped the phone back into my pocket and returned into the world of the living. I actually found myself nose to nose with the big bear who looked at me curiously through his glasses. He had already put his books down to the counter.

"Uh, good day," I spoke quickly, perking my ears and putting up a smile as I pulled the small pile of books over to me and began to run them by the bar code scanner.

"Hmmph."

I flipped over a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and ran it past the scanner and checked that the price of 19.95 ,- was registered properly.

"Some light reading to pass the nights?" I tried some small talk as I put the thriller away and took up the next tome.

"Dad's birthday, "the bear grunted, digging his pockets for his wallet.

"We should have a dad's birthday section just for these Swedish crime thrillers," I mused as I grabbed a plastic bag and stuffed the books neatly into it before calling the price of 45,95 and asked whether he had a membership bonus card.

The bear handed over the bills and I gave him change and the receipt and never got more than an errand ear flick as a way of response to my cheerful quip. He disappeared with remarkable speed and left me standing there with my ears flicking and with my tail looping lazily. Marge rattled the glass counter with her dark claws.

"Can't please them all," I shrugged and she licked her lips, and then scratched her boobs a little through her red and probably non-regulation shirt.

"That dad section was not a very good joke, Rory," she smirked.

"You're smiling." I pointed out.

"I'm the shop bimbo, I smile at everything," Marge spoke in an innocent girl voice.

I flicked a round ear at her.

"What's next? Will you start dropping pencils and picking them up really slowly?"

"Only to be followed by asking Mr. Albrecht whether I could start serving topless."

Shit, she did the eye flutter again and looked even more like a bimbo than she did before. I chuckled and put up my best smile for her before turning back to face my cash register again. I only had a few moments to scrutinize the colorful cookery books held on display on top of a shelf on the opposite side before the telltale jingle of the doorbell alarmed us both again to another wanton customer.

"Welcome to Albrecht Brothers," we said with comic precision and got a slight frown from the lion who had just entered.

"How could we help you today, mister?" Marge flashed her best grin at the guy who had entered.

He wasn't half bad looking. Maybe 30 years old - definitely a few years to my own years, I'd reckon. Wearing a knit sweater took away a little bit of the leonine coolness bestowed upon my race in general, though.

He took a step closer to the counter, eyes remaining on Marge for now.

"Good day."

He had a pretty nice voice, a nice purring timbre to it. That kinda voice you expected to be accompanied by a solo guitar and a harmonica.

"I'm actually searching for a book about the Etruscans, and I was wondering if you could help me out a little bit," he flashed a not too shy smile at Marge who seemed to be a bit taken aback by the cute geek, for her ears kind of...flicked.

At least she didn't do the eye flutter thing again.

"That's when you want to go to the Lost Civilizations section, down those little stairs over there," she pointed. "You can't get...lost on the way."

The cute geek turned his head and spied the location of the downstairs section before giving Marge a nod and a smile.

"Thanks, miss."

He left for the Lost Civilizations, tail swinging languidly, and I also discovered that he had a pretty nice butt that showed out ok with those tight pants he was wearing.

My sheath reminded me that it definitely wasn't as nice as the Dobie's had been last night. I snuffled and scratched my nose.

"So, Marge, I thought that the downstairs is my area of specialty," I told her, cocking an ear at her and suggesting that she had stolen my customer.

"You're not downstairs at the moment, are you? Mason's in there," she pointed out to me rather pointlessly.

"Well he's busy reading...whatever he is reading," I remembered that the wolf was busily engrossed on a book probably nicked off the shelf.

"He has to do an essay on Whitman. The naked wrestling and all that and wanting to be alone with a cute guy kind of business. Hardcore by 19th century standards," she grinned.

My bushy tailtip swished against her ankles.

"Marge, weren't you saying like 5 minutes ago that everyone here has studied English?" I told her.

"Yeah."

"And...Professor Barnes is still there and does Whitman, Faulkner, Emerson, Burroughs and Capote every year. He still lectures from overhead transparencies he wrote in 1995."

"Ohh, really?" the cougar chuckled.

"Yeah, I got a couple of girls buying phonetics books last week and they complained about the literature course, and I asked them, and they said that the slides are so smudged nowadays that they can barely read them. Half of it is always on Professor Barnes' sleeve to begin with."

"Is it a wonder?" Marge mused. "Back when he started, the computers were...uhh...like the size of this room, not a surprise he can't use a PC."

She gestured around the room with her tail and for a while it looked like she might smack me in the face with that thing, but thankfully her trajectory faltered before I ended up being bitch-slapped right in the middle of a work day.

"Hey!" I flashed her my teeth for the hell of it.

"Hey you, muffin, going all king of the jungle now?" she bared her own teeth to me and hissed briefly.

Marge didn't forget to lean over a little so that I could see that she didn't have an iPod hidden in her cleavage like she had done a couple of weeks back. It almost caused a riot at the coffee corner in the back room.

I squared my shoulders and stood fast for her benefit.

"Yeah, definitely you are," she flicked an ear at me.

I shrugged.

"How can I help it if I am a studmuffin?" I complained.

"Didn't say I was complaining", my co-worker winked.

"Cheers!"

Ding-dong!

A couple of schoolgirls arrived with the signature chime of the doorbell and took a moment to ruffle their furs and generally become comfortable with the warm inside of the shop. It was a pair formed by a coyote and a Bordercollie, both probably about 12 years old. The coyote had MP3 plugs on her ears and the other canine was doing some one-fingered tapping on her phone. They stood there for a moment, looking around, before the coyote girl stepped over to the counter and approached me.

"Hey there," I smiled to her, "anything particularly you're looking for?"

Her ears flicked and she dropped one of the plugs, and I caught a couple of chords of Adam Lambert before my own ears concentrated on to listening to the girl and not the distant music.

"Ummmm...heyyyyy...," the girl said.

"What kinda stuff you're looking for?" Marge piped in from her side, getting a glare from the Collie. "We've got the new Miley Cyrus fan book in just yesterday!"

The Collie looked offended by my cougar co-worker's offer, and the coyote just giggled.

I tried to stay patient, and simply smiled.

"So, what kind of things you're interested in?"

"Ummmmmmm...," the coyote girl murmured, "Me 'n Claire were wondering if you had the new Glee fanbook calendar."

I chuckled.

"Yeah, sure, it's right there, next to that vampire book stand, can you see that?" I gave her a pointer, and she nodded.

"Umm...thaaanks."

"You're welcome," I smiled and watched as she went along bouncing.

"Miley's so 2010," the Collie sniped at Marge as if to add to the insult before heading along towards the deeper reaches of the shop with her friend.

I turned to look at Marge and shrugged.

"Kids," she snuffled.

"What? Didn't you know that Miley's so last year?" I smirked.

"I can't even remember what I listened to when I was that age, how do I keep up with the new fads?"

"On Twitter or Facebook?" my tail made a funny somersault behind my broad back.

Marge winced.

"I list myself as listening to Roxette and The Cardigans, that's not exactly the hottest stuff around," she snorted. "So no, I don't get suggestions and OMG's about the latest Lady Gaga song, sorry, Rory, I'm not a bopper like you are."

"What the hell's a bopper?"

"I don't know...Mmmbop?" she showed her teeth, and I had a feeling that she might start to singing THAT song, before she was thankfully distracted by a bear who had entered the shop, wearing some sort of a blue uniform, and he carried a clipboard.

"Which one of you is in charge here?" the black bear grumbled at us.

"That's me!" she smirked and leaned against the counter in her signature pose.

"Well, I've got ten damn heavy boxes in my truck listed for Albrecht Brothers Bookstore, and I guess that's you guys," the bear explained, "if you'd sign here..."

He pushed the clipboard over and Marge took it into her dainty paws. She gave the bear a smile before she picked up a pen and scribbled her name over the sheet of paper on the clipboard.

"The delivery gate is just around the corner, behind the bagel shop," she told the bear as she handed the clipboard back to the burly bear.

"Thanks," the bear grunted and disappeared.

My ears flattened down as she turned to look at me with a knowing grin on her cat lips.

"Yeah, call in the big boy to help with the hauling."

"I know you love it, really," Marge snickered, "getting to pump all those muscles..."

She ended her comment in a resonant purr that was probably enough to rattle the glass table again.

"Maybe Mason can unload it," I shrugged.

"Mason's gotta watch downstairs."

"There's nobody downstairs."

"Well you sent the Etruscan lion down there."

"He's probably an archeology student, he ought to find his way around."

I was trapped to do it, it seemed.

"You might need help with the rush." I tried for the heck of it.

"It won't be until the college is out and they all come here to be artsy and geeky, so you've got ample time to go and be the muffin and unload the books. Then we can rush together!"

I flicked my ears at her in my defeat and left for downstairs with a deliberately hurt expression on my face. My flicking tail betrayed my real mood, though. I was feeling okay, enough, it wasn't a bad day. I had gotten laid and all, how could it be a bad day? Not even a few boxes and a mum text were enough to drag me down too badly.

The steps clattered under my paws as I made my way down to the lower level and stopped by Mason's counter. The wolf again only barely looked up from the old paperback splayed on the table.

"Hey, you wanna help me with some books that just arrived?" I spoke to him as kindly as I knew.

The wolf frowned.

"Again? We already got a load in the morning."

"Yeah, I don't know what it is, but it's just ten boxes."

I left out the part about the boxes being damn heavy.

"Could be the new Caledon Rock books, we've been waiting for them for ages," the wolf mused, "it's being published officially next week, and Mr. Albrecht wanted us to have a couple of dozen copies. The series has sold fairly well."

"Which one's that again?" I tried to recall Caledon Rock from the swarm of fantasy tomes that came and went by without much ado or leaving a lasting impression.

"It's the fourth part of the trilogy that was meant to end to The Strategy of St. Percival. The writer juts kept going."

"Ahhh," I snuffled. "Gotcha."

"It's called The Justice of Helios, yeah," the wolf's tail wagged, "It's supposed to be pretty good if you believe the advance reviews."

"I don't really read that kind of stuff," I confessed.

"It's not a big time thing, it's...well I don't know what to compare it to," Mason scratched one of his shaggy grey, pointy ears, "I guess it's hard to really compare to something that sells fairly well and is also well known without being a Harry Potter kind of a thing."

"I guess," I agreed.

"So, uh, yeah, it's quiet down here so yeah, let's go," the college wolf put his book under the counter and headed for the door to the back room.

It was chilly out there on the small loading dock, which was conductive of us hauling the ten damn heavy boxes of books into the safety of the storage room as fast as it was possible for us. We ended up hopping there on our paws and blowing hot breath into our cupped palms to restore circulation, and even my furs felt cool under my shirt.

Mason picked up the delivery list slip and scrutinized it while I simply made sure that the boxes were arranged into a sufficient to wait until we could put up the yet non-released books on sale.

"Yeah, it's four boxes of the new Caledon Rock and three boxes of the earlier parts of the trilogy and two deluxe gift sets that have them all, and then two boxes of assorted goodies. Nicholas Sparks, Patricia Cornwell, Nora Roberts, Henning Mankell..."

"The usual lot," I chuckled, huffing a little bit after setting one of the boxes to a nearby steel shelf before I turned to face the wolf again, "none of Mr. Albrecht's treasure boxes?"

"Not this time, but the last ones were great," Mason smiled a geeky grin at the idea of boxes full of fascinating rare books like "Victorian Tea Cups in Color Pictures" or some travel journals from long forgotten explorers of the darkest reaches of Africa.

I couldn't help but smile in return as we just kinda forgot ourselves to stand there, slowly warming up again. It was pretty chilly in the storage room compared to rest of the shop, so we were soon encouraged to leave for the back room. Mason went for the coffee corner.

"Might as well have some, right, Rory?" the wolf smiled, tail swishing as he rummaged the cabinet for a clean mug.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, smiling at the idea of a hot cuppa that'd take the rest of the chill from my bones.

It had been a while since the coffee I had at Victor the sexy Dobie's place, anyway. It felt like it happened weeks ago, in a different world, and a different time.

Mason made enough instant coffee for both of us and we ended up sitting on the old, worn couch that was stuffed between the storage room door and the coffee corner. A small, coffee-stained table with a messy arrangement of books and old magazines was in front of the couch. The big atlas we had ogled at yesterday was already half-buried under a couple of new Harlequin paperbacks and a folded newspaper three days old. I coiled my thick tail about my knees and sat down comfortably, hoping that Marge would not have the idea of barging in.

I really didn't know what to talk with Mason. I'm not THAT old, I mean, he's only about...well, maybe I'm six or seven years older, so the generation gap really shouldn't apply, right? Still, we probably lived in so different worlds outside the walls of the shop. He was a straight college guy, I was the gay...guy. It's not like being a clerk was my biggest career ideal when I was studying. Of course I dreamed of the PhD and the seat and maybe a good job and maybe to write that novel, or really do some groundbreaking research on something nobody else ever thought out before. Fat chance. The credit crunch killed the whole newspaper where I worked for a while, and this was my second year at The Albrecht Brothers. Mason had only been in for four months now, ever since Lola left after graduating and moved up north. He was a bright enough a kid, I'm sure Mason would do pretty well with himself after getting his degree.

I'd probably stay here, and that figured.

"You watch American Idol?" Mason spoke suddenly, probably to fill the eerie silence.

I flicked an ear and chuckled.

"There's so many Black Velvets and Without You's and Fallin's that I can listen before my brain gives up the will to carry on," I explained over my mug of coffee, enjoying the warm vapors in my nose.

"It's been pretty good this year."

"I watched the tryouts for the hell of it," I admitted, wincing a little at the very memory.

"Yeah, fucking load of shit," Mason noted.

We snorted and traded a few memories of the horror of the show and then there was a silence, and then the wolf was already tapping on his phone. I took a sip of my coffee and decided that this would be as good as time as any to check the text I had gotten from mom and send as vague answer as possible. I shuffled a little bit to get to my phone buried in my pants' pocket and then flicked it open and browsed out the text message labeled "MOM".

RORY ITS MOTHER PHONE ME AND FATHER PLEASE AND COME OVER WEEKEND IF YOU CAN HUGS AND KISSES MOTHER

I snuffled a bit at mom's use of all capitals on the text and wondered how I could get out of this trap. Sure, I could phone her alright and tell her a few non-things about my fairly boring life. I could dodge the work questions and the free time questions, and even give a fairly gentle reminder that no, I had not yet found a nice boy to live with and go to see musicals together, which mom for some reason thought to be a great past time for an all-male couple. It was a small relief that I had finally gotten the guts to spill the beans to them over Thanksgiving when I was 25, so at least I didn't have to use someone like...Marge...as a beard for my dark sexual impulses.

It still didn't mean that I could write:

Had great time last night. Got laid on a gay bar. Had lots of gay sex. It was really gay. I mean, in the ass gay.

I snorted at the idea and flipped the phone around in my paw and wondered just what to write. I decided on a few suitable comments and placating promises that could be made on a text and clicked the "Answer" button to begin to compose the message.

And I froze.

*

And yet another cliffhanger! This soap opera just keeps getting more and more antsy ;)

if you have anything to comment, please do so! It all will help me to become a better writer.

Cheerio!