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"Edge Walking"

By: Cauldron O Boyfur

Notes n' Warnings: By law, you should only be reading this story if you're 18 or over, though I could hardly give a crap. It just needs to be said. As stated before, the "Cha-Ching" Gentleman's Club and Cocktail Lounge is not based on any business establishment in real life. A note to fellow furries: though I am a vegetarian, there is mentioning of chicken wings and the like being eaten. This merely parallels real life, as meat is a sad reality in society. It is important to realize that my characters are meant to be anthromorphic, while the meat they eat comes from animals in the form like how we know them to be in reality, so don't think that cannibalism and the sort is going on, because it's not.

Chapter 4: Interview

A wolf. Grey, with thick fur. A suit and tie, like a blue collar man of great importance. As if Jamie's anxiousness wasn't monumental as it was, now a wolf.

Carwyn brought the boy in front of the desk, where the wolf sat, papers and receipts scattered in discombobulated fashion. The large grey canine was on the phone, when, looking up, he held up a finger, its message being, "I'll be done in a second." An orange arm coiled around the back of Jamie's neck and sat on his shoulder, pulling him in closer to the fishnet t-shirt. While the fox meant to assuage fear and dampen nerves with a hug, Jamie thought that most people would probably be uncomfortable with such a stranger's action. More interestingly than that, though, was it actually was relieving to the boy, as he leaned his head on the fox's ribcage (with the differences in height becoming quite apparent). With head tilted, Jamie looked upwards to realize that the ceiling was also tilted. There was a downward angle from where they stood towards the wolf's end. Jamie's initial hunch was right, there was a staircase over this room.

"Look, I don't have any time to put up with this," the wolf said into the phone, amazingly keeping his cool. "Stop being unreasonable, or you're gonna give ME damn good reason to be unreasonable... Oh yeah... Well goodbye to you to." The phone went down hard, but it wasn't slammed as most wolves (being temperamental creatures) would've done. He then looked up at the two before him, leaning back on his swivel chair.

"We got an applicant," Carwyn informed, already anticipating the question. "His name is... sorry, I didn't catch your name kid." The already orange body of the fox turned even more red with blush.

"Jamie. My, ah, my name is Jamie." Still, with the organic orange scarf around his neck, the bunny's head lowered again.

Carwyn looked at the wolf with pleading eyes, and on behalf of the little bunny, said, "He's quite nervous, but he just needs to get to know us better."

"Hmmm..." the wolf replied, in accompaniment to his claws tapping on the table, as if deep in thought while staring the shaky bunny down. Jamie quickly looked up, noticed that he was being looked at, so slamming his eyes down just as quickly. The wolf stood up, saying, "I agree that he needs to get to know us better." Extending his paw he said, "Hello, there, Jamie. My name is Nikodim. I'm the owner of the "Cha-Ching"." A shaky paw was returned to the boss' direction. They shook. Nikodim continued, "This, here, is Carwyn, but we here normally call him Car. Not only my best employee, but probably the nicest guy you'll ever meet."

Carwyn shook his head in disagreement while smiling. "He's lying to ya, Jamie. I'm the meanest guy working here."

"You bullshit him like that, I'll start cuttin benefits like you really are a jerk," Nikodim joked, walking back to his alpha seat. "So, so, so. Jamie, you want to work at the "Cha-Ching", now do you? Quell my curiosity by telling me exactly how did you hear about us having a few openings?"

"A, an ad in the, um, the paper. It said you were, um, looking for, well, well you know."

"Not quite. What do you think we're looking for, Jamie?"

"Um, something like, uh, Dancers-N-S." A pause, before, "Well, you know, at least, that's howa, howa, how I read it. I could be wrong."

Nikodim was quick to cut in, "No, no. That's exactly what we're hunting for." Hearing a wolf use the word "hunting" turned on the spigots of Jamie's sweat glands, adding perspiration to his trembling. "Now, Jamie, do you happen to know what we mean by dancers-n-s?"

Putting his left paw up to his mouth to nervously bite on a blunt bunny claw, Jamie was slow to reply, "I think it means, n' stuff?" No reply. "N' sleepers?" Carwyn shrugged his shoulders to Nikodim, in a 'well, what the fuck more do you want?' fashion. Nikodim still didn't say anything, though, a smile, once small, was now curling higher. Jamie went for the jugular with his third guess, "N' sluts?"

The two canines burst out laughing. "OK, OK," Nikodim chuckled. "You know what this is about. Oh man." He stared down the little bunny even more intently, before whistling and shaking his head from side to side. "I can't lie. You are one hell of a good lookin' kid. Even by bunny standards. Hot damn."

Jamie still looked down. This time, his comment came out even more downtrodden. "I'm not good looking. I'm fat. I'm so fat, I hate it."

Again, the two canines started laughing. It was Nikodim who said, "Kid, you get any skinnier, Car's gonna be using you as the pole. But seriously, you can't honestly think you're fat? You look like you're gonna implode in on yourself. We're gonna have a black hole right here in my office if ya cave in anymore"

Eyelids of the boy began to flutter. "I don't know. Maybe I'm not fat. But I'm not skinny enough." Jamie was on the cusp of tears, as his shame began to gnaw at him. Despite family dysfunction, the fact that he was applying for a job at a brothel, and being addicted to crack and thrusters, weight was the biggest demon in his life. Not just how much he weighed, but the fact that he weighed something in the first place. Only zero was a number satisfactory enough for he, and his kind.

Nikodim and Carwyn gave each other concerned looks, knowing that something was going on under Jamie's skin, and it wasn't food being digested either. It had everything to do with preventing digestion from happening.

With a sigh, Nikodim pulled out the dagger of a question, which Jamie knew would have to be addressed at some point. He'd managed to slink around it with the bartender Sheila, but now he was cornered by it.

"May I ask how old you are?," Nikodim inquired.

Now it had to be said. Jamie would have to proclaim his fictional age with a voice more stout than he'd upheld thus far. "Eighteen. I'm eighteen years old."

Nikodim let out another sigh, as did Carwyn, both fully aware that this gorgeous little bunny boy had no chance of being able to purchase cigarettes legally. Nikodim tilted forward in his cushioned chair, his hands interlocked, as he spoke, "Yes, of course, you're wink, wink, eighteen. But legality issues aside, how old are you?"

Jamie came forth with honesty, "Sixteen."

Unfortunately, the truth wasn't convincing either. "Wanna try again?," Nikodim said with annoyed sarcasm.

Jamie looked at Carwyn, then back at Nikodim. He then reached into his shirt's collar, delving into his chest, and uprooting his Star of David pendant. Putting the silver ornament in plain view of both he incinerated all doubts. "Sir, I swear to God, I'm sixteen." He then let it drop, where it sway like a pendulum for a second before ceasing locomotion in front of his chest's throbbing epicenter.

Nikodim, once again, shifted weight away from his "maybe" employee. He nodded his head lightly in approval, saying, "OK, I believe you. Though it's amazing, you don't look a day over fourteen."

"And he's Jewish!," Carwyn cut in. "C'mon now, Nik. You n' I both know how much business would spike up with the Persians [cats] if they caught word of a Jew here. And a bunny to boot. You can charge whatever for a Jewish bunny boy, and they'll still jump on it." He then looked back at Jamie, whom he'd been talking about as if he wasn't in the room. Though Carwyn was throwing out an argument in favor of Jamie, it quickly dawned on the fox that he wasn't really speaking of Jamie's religion in the most savory of ways. To clarify things, he quickly added, "Sorry, Jamie, but certain clientele have certain desires. You know how it is."

"Yeah," replied Jamie, who not only was understanding, but thankful that the fox had brought up another pro reason to help him get hired.

A few seconds of silence, as the wolf seemed in be in hard thought. It was Carwyn who broke the silence, with his obvious opinion, "Nik, you know this place needs a bunny boy. You've been bitching about it the past few months. Now, ya got the cutest one in the world standing in front of you." Jamie was about to shake his head from side to side, nonverbally saying, "I'm not cute." It was involuntary habit whenever anyone tried complimenting him on his looks, physical looks which he was ashamed of. He consciously held the neck movement back, as Carwyn continued, "Nik, don't pass this up. You're gonna be kicking yourself in the ass if..."

"OK, OK," the grey furred wolf interjected. "He's too damn cute to turn away." Nikodim's next question was directed at Jamie, "So what are your parents going to say about all this? Of course, I trust you're not going to go blabbing about us to them, but if you're found out, that could present myself, as well as my entire staff, with a catastrophic situation."

Jamie, who felt like a baseball bat of shock had cracked him in the head, was slow to tell his week-long secret. "I don't really have to deal with parents anymore, sir. I, um, I ran away from home."

Nikodim and Carwyn one more exchanged concerned glances. In a voice like comforting hot cocoa, Carwyn asked the logical question, "Where are you living?"

Nerves again started raising a ruckus, causing shaking. "I thought that, well, if it's OK with you, I thought I could sleep in the driveway behind here? If not, I could just go to the mall and find a bench or something."

Nikodim shook his head side to side, seemingly agitated and infuriated. "Yes, yes I do mind you sleeping in either of those spots. You're with us now, we're going to treat you special. All my friends who work for me deserve the best I can give."

Carwyn's arm once again went around the little bunny's shoulder, as he said, "You're not on the streets anymore, kiddo." At this comment, Jamie's quivering began intensifying, not out of excess fear, but joy. His bottom lip began quivering. "We've got a room at our place, Nik."

"I was just about to ask," Nikodim said. "Guess you guys found a new house-mate. Sheila's gonna be happy, I know that."

It couldn't be held anymore. Levees of the eyes bursted, as tears began cascading down the grateful boy's cheeks. A home. A loving home. He didn't know this fox well, nor did he know the others he'd be with, but his heart told him that this would be the loving home that he and his mother had been deprived of all his life (a shame mom can't be here he thought. Though she'd sell herself and her soul before she ever let a stranger so much as look at me naked).

A wolf. A wolf had made this possible. That was probably the most bizarre part of the whole thing. Two weeks prior, he was being pummeled by his demonic stepfather, a wolf. Two weeks prior, a wolf had scalded his mother with boiling water. Two weeks prior, one of his two teeth was chipped by a wolf's fist. But now... now this most intimidating of species was offering Jamie the possible salvation he needed. Never in his wildest dreams could he have ventured the notion that a wolf would be the one.

Carwyn took the boy even deeper into his foxy arms, cradling the back of his head, where long ears drooped down to shoulders, shaking as he sobbed. His paws intertwined with the fishnet lacing of Carwyn's shirt, as his face buried into the taller fox's chest, like an infant would with its mother. And like a mother, Carwyn ran his fingers through the little one's fur on top of the head, while whispering reassurances into his elongated ears. "You've got a home now. We'll treat you nice. It's gonna be OK."

Nikodim stood from his seat. "I've gotta check the bar receipts. Car, you teach the kid what he needs to know tomorrow. Ya both aren't in till the day after." The wolf then walked up to the bunny, who only came up to the grey furred abdomen. Bowing down to the boy, Nikodim rubbed the hair on top of Jamie's head, teasing it up. He then said, "And Jamie, please don't call me sir. I like Nik a lot more." He then gave the red-eyed bunny a playful boop on the nose, before leaving the office.

Looking straight down at the quivering white bunny in nurturing arms, Carwyn expressed his happiness. "I could tell as soon as I saw you, that you'd be a good guy. And I know you'll make a great member of the "Ching" crew. Now lets go to the kitchen. Give Sheila the good news, if Nik hasn't done so himself already."

They went into the white, warm, and humid kitchen, where the calico had her paws submerged in sudsy water, hand washing martini glasses, shot glasses, plates lined with chicken wing grease and the like. Hearing her coworker come in, without looking up from her duty, Sheila said, "I'll be done in a minute. Just hold on."

Carwyn smiled at the girl. Apparently, Nik was allowing him to break the news to the female bartender/washer. "Sheila, where's your manners? You haven't said hello to the "Ching's" newest member."

Dropping the cocktail glass she was toweling off, the feline looked to her left, where Jamie, still in a state of tears, was standing. "HA!," she exclaimed. "I knew it! I focking knew it! Nik could never turn down such a delicate, beautiful bunny like you."

"Yeah, well, this delicate bunny is gonna be living in a certain lil' house on Elbridge St."

The tri-colored cat let out a squeal of joy, dropping her rag, running over to the shaky teenager, and giving him a hug so hard it felt like his tear-glossed eyes were going to pop out like a Mr. Potato Head. She then covered his cheeks in a machine gun of kisses. Watching the ordeal, Carwyn smiled, feeling as if he, too, was going to cry on the bunny's behalf. "She's a bit friendly, huh, Jamie?" Jamie, still tearful, now began to laugh as the girl kept peppering his homosexual face with kisses (though he derived no romance from girl kisses, Jamie loved the playfulness of girls, whom he felt were more open-minded and less cruel than boys. Jamie always said that even though he liked cock, all boys and men were jackasses, and the world would be an astronomically better place if God never created penises).

Finally letting loose her death-grip on the bunny, Sheila went back to her work. "I'll hurry. We'll be home in ten minutes."

---

Through eyes blurred with brine, Jamie peered out the window, gazing at the shops of Bustleton Avenue. The street seemed like an outdoor stripmall extension of the Roosevelt Mall which it skimmed up towards where the three had just come from. Gaudy, eye snatching signs which had been lit just hours ago were now slumbering in sullen darkness.

Carwyn was in the driver's seat of the white 1987 Ford Taurus, with Sheila riding shotgun, and an ever-astounded Jamie in the rear. He couldn't believe he was going home, with a new family. He felt like he'd reemerged from the womb, as wonder, a hint of insecurity, and awe enshrouded his heart.

The drive took no longer than five minutes, as Carwyn brought the aging automobile to a curbside halt on the corner of Elbridge St. and Everett Ave. Looking out his right-hand side, Jamie's eyes took in the virgin image of the brick row home. This was the Castor Gardens area of the city, and while not exactly the most exquisite portion of Phurrydelphia, it was startlingly more beautiful than his former Germantown residence. It felt like a supernova going off in his chest, opening the car door. There was a patch of front lawn, with a lil' hill ascending from the cracked sidewalk up to the linked houses. A lawn.

"Mom, I wish you were here to see this place," he thought, as he followed the fox and cat up a set of 6 stairs which covered the hill, along the 8 meter path which paralleled the front lawn, then up a set of three stairs, with a tiny patio to the right, and finally, up another set of 4 stairs to the front door.

Two doors, side by side. The one on the left was on the street's corner. It wasn't the house. Carwyn unlocked the right hand side's front door, opening it into a very tiny vestibule, about 4 ft x 5 ft. Opening the vestibule's door, he patted the bookbag covering Jamie's weary back, telling him, "This is it. Home, sweet home."

Directly in front was the staircase, leading upstairs. To the right hand side was what could easy be identified as the living room, with an olive green carpet, floral patterned sofa, and TV. Directly behind, without the presence of door or other barricade, was the dining room, with a humble chandelier dangling like a multifaceted icicle from the ceiling.

Sheila smiled at the overwhelmed bunny, and asked, "Well, what do you want to do? Need a drink, something to eat? Take a look around the place? It's all you."

Needing to dispense with discomfort, Jamie said, "I gotta pee."

"Awww, you're so cute," Sheila gushed. "C'mon, just follow Car and I upstairs. We'll show you your room while we're up there anyways."

Once up to the second floor, Jamie saw a door straight ahead. The hallway lay on the righthand side, wrapping in the opposite direction of how they walked up. Three other doors were off this tiny hallway: one to the right ahead, another one to the right, and one that was at the end of the hall, to the right and behind where the three were facing.

Sheila pointed to the door directly in front of them, saying, "That's your sanctuary. The one over there [forward on the right] is my room, that's the bathroom [on the right], and that last door is Car's room. If you're anything like me, you'll get the hate the fact that he has his own bathroom."

"Nah nah," Carwyn mocked.

The bookbag was dropped right next to the bathroom's outside, as Jamie opened the door, and stepped into the pink-tiled, blue-walled bathroom. Closing the cheap, hollow-wooded door, he could faintly hear the two gregarious friends talking on the other side. Carwyn did most of the talking, some of which Jamie had been able to decipher. It sounded like the fox was filling in the calico on why Jamie was living with them, being homeless and whatnot.

He plopped himself on the pink porcelain throne. Though he did pee standing up like most males, Jamie preferred sitting if he needed to take a really bad pee. He thought it felt better that way. In fact, Jamie often claimed that the sense of relief extracted from a great pee could top even the best orgasms.

Emerging into the cramped hallway, Jamie felt like he was on the verge of collapsing. He'd been walking all day long, but even more than the physical strain of the preceding hours, was the mental strain he was feeling, having to wrap sense into the transpiring events of the past hour.

"I'm sorry guys, but I gotta go to bed."

Again, it was Sheila with the gushing, "Awwwww, poor baby. You gotta be really tired."

Carwyn was the one who opened the door to Jamie's room. The bunny, who was walking in tired stupor, froze in his tracks once he saw it. A bed. A soft, cushiony bed. It had literally been years since his white fur had felt the divine sensation of a mattress. Once again, a few tears slunk through the eyelids. This just topped it all. Unable to walk, he instead waddled euphorically to the blue-blanketed blessing which lay before him waiting for him to lay upon. He would've loved to have just collapsed face first into the voluptuous mattress, but, alas, he was only as big as the bunny he was, so he expended a little energy, jumping into it.

Walking up to the smiling teen, Carwyn and Sheila both cocked their heads to the side with massive grins, as if they were gazing upon a newborn. "Do you need anything Jamie?," Carwyn asked of the boy.

There had been one thing which Jamie had neglected to pack before leaving home. If he could have it, then his sleep would be mythically grand.

"Do you have, a teddy? A teddy bear?"

"Sheila...," Carwyn exclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah, I got a gazillion. Hold on." She left Jamie's room and went right next door to hers. At this time, Jamie did as he always did before bed: Remove the terror of pants.

As he peeled off the ripped and dirty denim, Carwyn began whistling like a customer at the "Cha-Ching", exclaiming, "Owwww! Owwwwww! You're so friggin hot in them lil' blue undies! Beautiful bunny boy in blue bikini briefs, damn I'm hard!"

"You probably are hard, you doofus," Sheila made her presence known walking back into the room with five teddy bears bulging from her arms like santa claws. Jamie, at this time, removed his silver necklace. Sheila walked up to the bedside, looming over him. Bending her head down to look at him, she told him, "OK, wise guy. Before you get your pick, tell me, are you eighteen?"

Jamie didn't give a response. She still hadn't forgotten, but did she still mind? Apparently not, as she started laughing, "Ha! I knew it. Oh well, Car told me anyways that you're sixteen, soooooo..." She laid out the five teddies in front of the t-shirt and tight underwear-clad teen. It took not even three seconds before he picked up the smallest bear of the bunch (perfect huggability sized for a bunny), with caramel-brown fur and a red night cap. He didn't even say a word, just snagged it and squeezed.

"That's Dewey," Sheila informed him, bundling the other four back up in her arms. "He's all yours now." She threw them back into her room, as Jamie wiggled into the covers. He began fidgeting, fighting the sheets with his eyes closed, prompting the calico to grab the top of the blanket, open it wide, before draping it back down onto the white furball cuddled and curled in fetal position with Dewey wrapped in skinny arms. She tucked him in flawlessly

Carwyn bent over and but a kiss on the side of Jamie's floppy ears. He and Sheila were going to make it their jobs to personally show the teen a love which he probably was unaware could be obtained.

Carwyn walked out of the room after saying goodnight. Sheila sit a little while longer at bedside, running her fingers through Jamie's fur. He was asleep within a few minutes.

As her fingers touched his lanky arms, she began feeling canyons in the fur. She knew what it was. Scars. Incredibly deep scars, which probably needed stitches. The cursed kiss of a razor. Method one employs to tell himself that pain is what he deserve out of life. Way in which one proves to themself how disgusting their body is. Sheila almost cried, though she wasn't sure whether it was due to viewing the scars on this innocent boy, memories of her own self-injurious teenaged years being excavated from the brain's darker memories. She kissed his upper arm with empathy, and whispered, "God loves you, Jamie. Please love yourself too." She then went to bed, herself.