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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.

*

Hello everyone, and welcome to the latest chapter!

Hope this one delivers after the less enthusiastic response to the last chapter.

If you have any comments about the chapter of the storyline in general, please drop a few lines once you're done. It will help me to be a better writer, and all the comments and speculations and shipping amuses me greatly. Faves and votes are certified luv too.

Enjoy!

*

The first thing I noticed when I entered The Ramrod was the intermingled musk of about two dozen male furs. Together they created a tangy mixture that clung onto my nose and my furs even as I took the steps required to enter the murky interior of the mostly quiet gay club. The music was playing gently on the background, and there were only three couples dancing, tails swinging happily. Most of the patrons were positioned into the booths or onto the bar counter that was still only sparsely populated. A couple of heads and a few ears, too, turned as I passed and sat down to a free bar stool with two empty stools on either side. I planted myself down as comfortably as possibly and hid my tail underneath the bar stool and placed my big paws to the charming wooden bar counter.

I immediately attracted the attention of the barkeep, a vaguely familiar-looking otter wearing comfortable-looking pants and a black mesh tank top. He had a couple of earrings on one ear, and as he came over to me and smiled, I caught the glint of a tongue piercing between his bright, white teeth.

"Good evening, what'd it be for you?" the otter smiled, brandishing a towel in his paws.

I flicked an ear and smiled briefly from the corners of my maw and then nodded.

"An apple cider, dry, please," I didn't know what else to drink, really, so I resorted to an old student time favorite.

I didn't want to get drunk, I just wanted to sit here for a while with the hopes that maybe, just maybe a certain canine of Doberman persuasion would come over and we could chat and sort things out. More like it felt like I was the one who had something to sort out, but that remained to be seen in the absence of the other party of this mess I had gotten myself into.

"Coming right up," the otter smiled and winked. "It'll be 4.20 ."

I smiled back, briefly, and watched how the lutrine's nimble paws procured a tall glass from the big wall of glasses behind him before filling it with my requested drink. He even added one of those small umbrella-like straws to the glass before he put it down in front of me and I handed over a 10-dollar bill to pay for my drink.

"Thanks," the otter smiled and hid the bill into the cash register before coins were deposited into my waiting paw. "Hope you'll enjoy the drink and your time here."

"Thank you," I rumbled and took a sip.

The otter didn't move very far, for he seemed to be concentrated on scrubbing away some imaginary stains from the finely grained wooden bar counter. I enjoyed the tang of alcohol on my tongue and let it warm my belly. It attracted my paw to scratch the very same belly, and that alone was more than enough to make me purr warmly. My mischievous tail tried to flick but failed due to its tied-down condition. I bit my teeth together to keep any reactions away since I didn't want to appear suspicious.

It was quiet at the counter at the moment, anyway. There was an older wolf sipping beer on the other side, seemingly uninterested in mingling for now. The other end of the counter only held a fox and a coyote chatting each other up, ears and tails flicking and generally looking like they were having a gay good canine time. There was no visual evidence of a Hockey Hunk in sight, and that discovery was more than enough to make my hopes fall a little.

I drank my cider and decided that since it was 9 PM on a Tuesday night, the chances of Victor appearing on such a late hour were even slimmer than they had been earlier. He would have to work in the morning, after all, since he worked in an office, or so he had told me. Maybe he had spent the afternoon playing some hockey with the guys from the office. Twice a week, to blow off some steam and keep in shape, that's what he said. I could already see heavy bodies colliding with bone-crunching energy on ice.

My pants felt slightly uncomfortable at the idea of the smell of a jockstrap after hockey practice, but I knew very acutely where I was sitting and immediately decided against even the most clandestine readjustment of my sheath. I didn't want to call up more attention than was necessary since I most certainly wasn't on the look out for company tonight. On the other paw, that had been my excuse on that night, too, when I had ended up using the beefy Dobie as a mattress while I pounded away at his sweet, sweet tail.

No, that was for certain, without question. No succumbing to the advances of particularly hunky Dobies or any other canines. Or felines. I always liked big cats a lot, being one myself, but right now, even the most handsome lion giving me a lap dance would not get my full attention. I was here as a fur on a mission, to seek and locate and...something, that Dobie who haunted my thoughts and sex fantasies and even my phone in the form of the cheeky message he had left for me to find, perhaps only to mess around with my mind even from a distance. Maybe he had an awful sense of humor like that.

Well, besides that message, this was the only shared link between me and the Dobie, Victor, this being the odd gay bar where he self-admittedly didn't come often, but something had made him want to unwind a little.

The Ramrod was a pretty fun place, I had to say, though. The air was clean and the scent of lots of hot guys dancing and mingling and sweating was a simple pleasure on my nose. The lights were low but you could still see comfortably, especially with my cat eyes that were sensitive to light. The disco lights weren't strobing away fast enough to cause an epileptic seizure, either. The dance floor looked inviting enough, with room for shaking one's booty to you heart's content. I wasn't much of a dancer, though with the right fur, I could pull a few old moves and see if the Ketchup Song Dance moves were still a valid source of hilarity and not just an old shame. My booty had been shaken enough for now, though, so it was more than happy to remain as it was, lazily flopped down on the red leather of the bar stool. The music blared in my ears.

Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo

I put my drink down and wiped a few sweet, tangy drops off my maw to the sleeve of my shirt. I felt a bit slobbish for that, but anyway, I was never a dainty princess to begin with. I had a sudden urge to puff out my chest and growl and push my shoulders back and generally be a big, hunky lion and show that off.

Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo

An accidental, loud huff left from my maw and caused the otter barkeep's ears to perk up and his eyes to turn to me. The motion of his towel-wielding paw didn't stop, though, even when he looked at me curiously.

"Hey," the otter spoke again as if we were seeing each other for the first time.

Barbara Streisand

My cheeks felt hot as they returned from their puffed out state to their normal place and I simply gave him a look, hoping that I had not managed to make a complete ass out of myself. I also reminded myself that I shouldn't think about ass so much.

"Good evening," I spoke politely as if it was I standing behind a counter, not the otter.

Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo

"The drink tasting terrible, or are you just happy to see me?" the otter's silver-studded tongue flicked between his smiling teeth.

My ears flattened briefly as I realized that my ridiculousness had been caught by the attentive otter. Damn...I rubbed the back of my hot neck and tried to smile lightly.

Woo woo woo woo woo why don't you stop this terrible song?

"Just...maybe a bit of a cold...trying to clear out the sinuses a little, you know?"

That was a fucking stupid excuse, I know, I know.

"Heheheh, you need a hankie?" the otter smirked.

"I'm good," I put my paw down again after the slight fur-spiking-relieving rub, and coughed once.

"Just a touch of the flu I suppose."

"Then maybe what you'd need is a shot of brandy, to pump up the immune system!" the otter smiled, and a shot glass appeared out of nowhere and was placed on the counter.

I waved a paw, quickly.

"Ohh, I think I'm fine, I think I'll just drink this and leave home and have a really good night's sleep," I was defensive now, waving my paw to make sure that he would not force-sell me something I didn't want.

Not that some brandy sounded such a bad idea, with my frayed nerves being considered and all.

The otter smirked and with an equally fast move, aided by the darkness, the shot glass disappeared under the counter again.

"As you wish," the otter chuckled.

"Thanks," I rumbled.

I grabbed my cider and took a deep sip, closing my eyes and all to fully enjoy the taste, but even through the shimmering light filtering through my glass I noticed that the otter was still there, watching me curiously. I gave him a "You mind?" look and flicked an ear.

"I was wondering if you come here often," the otter smiled, extending a paw. "Name's Demetrius, I run the bar for Cyrus."

I stared at the small, webbed paw for a moment before I took it briefly and gave it a minute squeeze.

"Hello," I tried to sound more interested than I really was in the camp otter, "Who's Cyrus, if I may ask?"

"He's the bear who runs this place, he is," the otter called Demetrius winked again. "He mostly just runs the business behind the scenes but he does DJ work every Friday and Saturday."

My ears flicked each in turn as I nodded.

"I really don't come here so often...," I tried.

"You should come!" the otter grinned. "We're having the monthly tango competition this Saturday, it's always great fun!"

I snuffled at the idea and couldn't help but ask...

"Are leather caps a requirement to take part?" I chuckled against my better judgment.

Demetrius chuckled and winked at me in a perhaps too friendly a way, but then, he was a barkeep, after all, everyone's friend and shoulder and a compassionate ear.

"No, but we always have two encores of Tango El Bimbo so that everyone can recreate their favorite moments," Demetrius smirked.

"Classic," I mused, though my smile was a more genuine one this time while the otter leered at me, curious eyes flicking all over me while he gave me a once-over.

"Hear, hear!" the otter chuckled. "Up to a few years back, that was some furs' only real idea of what a gay bar might be like. Can you imagine that?"

"It's a bit before my time, I think," I confessed with a snuffle. "I've seen it on the television, though, a few times, I guess."

"More for the greymuzzles," the otter's smile was silver-enhanced again.

"Yeah," I mused, glad that I wasn't included in the definition of a greymuzzle.

"Is there anything else I could get for you?" the otter asked me with an honestly curious expression.

I almost opened my maw to ask him whether he happened to know where Victor the Hockey Hunk Dobie lived, but I wasn't sure how that would go down. I did realize that the otter might remember someone as hunky as the said Dobie happened to be, but I also knew that dozens of different furs came out here every night, and from my own experience I could tell that they slowly melted into a single mass of random furs, faceless and nameless.

Still...it might not hurt to ask...

"Well...uh...," I snuffled and cleared my throat for the best effect. "I was here a couple of weeks back, actually..."

"Oh?" the otter looked at me with very curious eyes now.

"Yes, and well...I was sitting here with a Doberman, about a head taller than I am..." I tried, hoping I didn't sound too ridiculous.

I was already rubbing the side of my neck as I wondered where this inquiry would take me.

Demetrius rubbed his goatee-adorned chin and his eyes went a bit glassy for a moment as he probably tried to wrack his brain for the information.

"Hmmm...Dobie...Dobie...Big Artie...hmm...no...Stephen...no...head taller...no...no heads...giving head...no, that happened last month...PVC...no...handbag..."

I snuffled at the odd litany and escaped to my drink for a little moment while the otter mused and wondered.

"His name is Victor," I piped in, getting the otter's eyes. "Doesn't like being called Vic."

"Hmm...Victor...Victor..."

"He likes to talk about ice hockey," I knew I was being ridiculously desperate with this, but trying wouldn't hurt, right?

Demetrius shook his head and smacked the floor with his thick tail.

"Sorry, man, I can remember a few Dobies who like to hang out here every now and then but unfortunately I can't really recall anyone called Victor," the otter smiled and flicked his studded ear. "Someone special to you gone under the radar?"

I almost grimaced at the words.

"Nah," I said quickly. "You know...had a bit of good time, never got around to...leaving contact details..."

I'm sure it couldn't have sounded any more pathetic than that.

The otter's eyes perked.

"Hey, if he left you with something, you should go to see a doctor first y'know," the otter leaned towards me as he spoke in a low voice.

I almost jumped off my seat and my cheeks flared.

"No, it's nothing like that!" I almost yelped.

Demetrius' ears flattened.

"Ohhh...heheh...sorry, man."

I rubbed my prickling neck and tried to calm down after the STD scare.

"We just didn't get around to...exchanging phone numbers or such."

"Hahah!" the otter declared, swiping the edge of the counter with his towel. "That's almost on page one at the 'Common bartender heartaches and their solutions' section on the bartending pawbook."

I shook my head briefly and snuffled, though I was still smiling, and Demetrius smiled back to me.

"It's okay." I assured the helpful otter, glad that at least we tried.

"You want to leave a word in case he'd show up?" Demetrius offered. "It happens y'know."

"Nah, it's fine, just a random thought, you know," I tried to brush the whole thing away and only accentuated that with another wave of my paw.

"Oh well...who knows, maybe this is your lucky night...," the otter smirked. "You never know who's gonna walk in through those doors."

"Hear, hear," I shook my head briefly before sinking back into my drink.

*

No Victors were seen during the next half an hour or so, and I managed to go through my cider and even order another one despite my better judgment, and when the clock was nearing 10 pm, I still wasn't any wiser for it. The club was picking up a little, slowly, and now there were already about a dozen pairs of furs on the dance floor. Some butt grinding was going on over there, not something that wasn't unamusing to look at, though joining them didn't come to my mind. My own butt had been ground at quite enough for the time being, thank you, Peter Sinclair, so I didn't want to irritate my precious rump any more than necessary.

The noise level around was still comfortable, though, so I might as well finish my second drink and then get going and have a good sleep before tomorrow's work day. It was already a little bit late, after all, but it wasn't too bad. I'd survive with an extra mugful of coffee.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a brown shape appear next to me and sit onto the free bar stool next to me. For a mad fraction of a second I imagined it to be a certain brown, smooth-furred Dobie, and I even turned my cider-brightened eyes to face the target on my side. I only managed to confirm that it wasn't a Dobie at all, not even a canine, let alone a Hockey Hunk, but instead a big bear a bit older than me who looked like he might have a heart attack from a couple of minutes on ice.

He hadn't even have the time to ask Demetrius the otter for a drink before he looked at me, noticed me looking, and gave me a polite nod.

"Evening," the bear spoke in a low, rumbling voice, looking at me.

I nodded as politely as I could without completely blocking him out.

"Good evening" I rumbled between my closed lips, and kept my ears from flicking.

The bear was a bit taller than me, big, obviously, brown-furred though with a friendly curve to his muzzle, and he wasn't wearing anything made of leather or PVC. He was wearing a boring plaid shirt and some tight-fitting jeans, but he didn't look too bad. Just a bit... honky-tonk, I suppose. Not that he looked much like a wannabe wrangler, though. Maybe he needed some chaps for that, or an outright cowboy hat.

I turned back to my 1/3rd glass of cider and listened how the bear ordered a beer from Demetrius. I lifted my drink up to my lips and could see from a kind of a fluid reflection that the bear's eyes were on me at the moment, or more precisely, my butt.

I put my drink down and gave him a pointed look, trying not to look like I was going to claw his eyes out. The bear didn't seem to be too shocked at being caught, though at least he had the good sense to suddenly be really interested about the neon-lit wall of glasses and bottles behind the bar counter. I wanted to show him my teeth, briefly, just to tell him that I wasn't there just for his eye candy, but then, who hadn't checked out guys in a place like this? It didn't feel exactly great if you weren't really interested in it, but it wasn't unusual. Maybe I was just rusty when it came to this stuff, butt ogles.

"Seems to be a pretty quiet night, yeah?" the bear tried again, smiling a little.

I gave him a glance and kept looking, just to make sure he wasn't eating my rump out with his eyes again.

"I don't come here so often as to really know how to tell a quiet night and a busy night apart, "I spoke politely. "Sorry."

The bear had finally received his beer and took a deep, frothy gulp before wiping his maw and putting his pint down. He gave me a slow double nod.

"It's a pretty good place," the bear mused, one big ear flicked, and he was leaning one elbow against the counter. "Lots of nice guys around."

"Seems to be pulling in quite the easy-going crowd," I didn't really know what else to say that didn't sound completely stupid.

At least it was true to say about the dance floor with all that grinding and groping going on. I wasn't sure if I counted as a nice guy in his mind. Perhaps I did, though it hardly mattered. It wasn't Victor who was calling me that, but just a random bear. And he wasn't even calling me that!

I told myself to get a grip and sunk my nose into my drink for a deep gulp.

"Yep," the bear rumbled from somewhere beyond while I opened my eyes and breathed out slowly.

I let my eyes wander around the bar again, catching another couple playing tonsil hockey on the other side of the counter

... now hold on!

Tonsil hockey...

Hockey...

I flicked my tail as a punishment for myself and bit my teeth down when the twinge from my barb bruises flashed through my hindquarters. I shook my head briefly and then continued my visual tour of the Ramrod, checking out the booths filling with happily mingling furs as well as the bar counter that was splitting into the big boys section on the right and the twinky section on the left, for whatever reason that was. My tour stopped on the much more busy dance floor where tails swayed and hips rolled to the tune of Take on Me.

I wasn't sure whether that was gay enough a song, but it had enough synth to put my ears flicking along to the tune.

My bear voyeur seemed to pick up on that for he soon spoke for the first time in a while.

"You...wanna dance?" the bear rumbled.

"You asking?" I tilted my head.

"I'd cause a landslide," the bear snuffled, big ears flopping down briefly. "I'd take over half of the dance floor anyway."

I snuffled politely.

"So I was just asking if you're planning to hit the floor," the bear continued. "You sure got the hips for it, if you don't mind me saying."

His smile got that special "I'm looking at your aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaass" quality and I was pretty sure that his eyes had just spent some time excavating my rump mounds while I was happily distracted in my drink.

I wanted to tell him that I did mind him saying, but decided against pissing off a random bear randomly. I just snuffled instead.

"Not really in the mood for dancing," I replied. "Just came in for a drink."

I wondered how he might have reacted to me telling that my ass was still sore from hot sex and would not like me swinging my tush around on the dance floor. He looked like he didn't get laid too easily, unless there were chasers around, so I supposed that a little bit of jealousy and envy inflicted on an innocent bear would be just a perfect way to remind him that my ass wasn't to be tapped even by eyes without my consent.

"Same, same," the bear picked his beer up and gave me a brief toast that I didn't return. "Need a little break from the old drudgery."

"Old drudgery?" my tongue slipped.

I really hoped he wasn't talking about wife and kids. That was just...not cool. I didn't want to meddle in that kind of business.

"Yep, the 8 till 4 drudgery, what else?" the bear rubbed his chin. "This is much better than a cubicle, I tell you. Endless phone calls and endless typing."

The image of Victor the Dobie sitting on a pillow on an office chair, his head towering above the edge of the cubicle wall, perky eyes up and listening to the latest piece of office gossip filled my mind almost too quickly. The imaginary canine turned to look at me, glared over to me across the rims of his specs, and then smirked and said: "Want some fun back there?"

My pants almost busted a seam at the idea, and I really needed to take a hefty gulp of my drink to calm down my nerves for now. The bear didn't see anything weird, or at least I hoped so.

I wondered idly if the bear knew any Dobies in his office, too.

I almost asked him just when he spoke again.

"Would you like a top up once you're done with that´?" the bear's eyes were fixed - surprisingly - on my glass of cider and not my rump.

My tailtip flicked with annoyance as I returned the beer's gaze.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just swig this down and be off, I have an early morning."

"Who doesn't?" the bear snorted. "What's extra half an hour?"

My ears flattened briefly as I composed myself for a proper rebuttal.

"I really appreciate the offer but I'm not really here for free drinks," I spoke in a low voice.

The bear shrugged, his eyes looking at me curiously through his eyeglasses that had black rims.

"It's just a drink."

I chuckled hollowly.

"Is there ever such a thing as only a drink?" I raised my right brow.

"Maybe I'd just enjoy the prospect of buying a nice-looking guy a drink and getting a smile in reply," the bear suggested.

Or you'd want to ride my ass in reply.

I scratched behind my ear and glared at the bear.

"What happened to going for the nice, friendly personality and not just the looks?" I suggested, almost sounding like a gender studies major.

The bear chuckled roughly.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks for the compliment, though," I tried to smile to him the best I could. "But I'm really tired and I really came here for a drink and nothing more."

The bear's ears dropped briefly as he turned his eyes from me and studied the blue-hued glasses on the wall for a while.

"Yeah, I get that."

I somehow felt that he got it a lot.

"Good," I replied, taking a deep swig from my glass to empty it for good before putting it down.

"You leaving?" the bear rumbled.

"Yep," I spoke, fast.

"Seeyou around, eh?" the bear gave me another look.

"Who knows, yeah?" I spoke, already on my paws and ready to leave the pulsing nest of gayness behind me.

"Yeah, who knows. Nice talking to you," the bear snuffled.

"Yep. Goodnight."

"Night."

I was out of the place before it was 11 pm.

*

TBC, eh?

If you have any comments about the chapter of the story in general, please drop a few lines. It'll help me to become a better writer, and the speculation amuses me a great deal.

Thank you for reading my story.

Cheerio!