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I actually had tons of fun writing this - I loved the chance to be able to experiment with a first-person unreliable narrator and to be free to use the kind of language that she herself would use: I don't usually use strong language in stories, but in this particular instance I felt it would benefit the character image more if I did.

It's certainly been a long time coming. This whole story turned out much, much longer than I was expecting, but I'm very happy with it. Enjoy!

---

One the one hand, you could say I'd think twice before steal my best friend's diary again. On the other hand, if I get the same kind of "punishment" again, I might just do it more often.

So, OK, at the time it was a bit of harmless fun. Cathy seemed to be out for the day when I called on her on Sunday, and I checked her bedroom through the ground floor flat's outside window to see if I could see her. What I came across instead was a writing desk, empty apart from a Biro and a small, pink book, engraved writing on the front reading "Diary of Cathy Tarwena. HANDS OFF, MOFO." The window was slightly ajar.

It was perfect. Oh come on, it was. Don't tell me you wouldn't want to go and nab a diary that was left in plain sight for everyone to see, and go and peek at one or two of its pages, which was all I did. For God's sake, I'm a bitch: I know that and everybody else knows that. I didn't get nicknamed Malicious Megan, the Meg-Monster and Fuck Off Megan You Twat for nothing, and besides, no-one calls Megan Charman a mofo and gets away with it. No-one. That was partly the reason that "gangster boi" had that accident last year in the workshop with the angle grinder between his legs, except I'm not supposed to talk about that.

It's also Cathy's fault for leaving her window open when her desk is right next to it. I mean, anyone could have come and taken that diary and she would never have gotten it back. Technically, I did her a favour. After having a bit of fun with it myself, of course, but it's payback for when she put salt in my coffee two weeks ago. It's only fair.

I have to say, it was a very interesting read. Cathy's new boyfriend's a hunk and he's been the talk of our lunch table in the break room for the past couple of weeks. Now, I have a perfectly good boyfriend myself, and Christ is he an Olympic performance in the bedroom, but I don't think there's a girl in the world who wouldn't want a ride or three on Angello. Just thinking about him makes my stomach tingle; three times a week at the gym really tones those shoulders, and you can practically see the six-pack through his shirt, and the item in his shorts. And the way he growled at Cathy when she flirted with him, I swear my head nearly burst off my shoulders in jealousy. Just how she pulled a wolf like that when I'm supposed to be the sexy one around here I can't imagine, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to snatch a few details of their private time when the opportunity's wafting its scent right underneath my nose.

And Angello's scent... Just a whiff of it makes me weak at the knees and moist at the...

Muzzle. I'm sorry.

But boy, was that a delightful read. Cathy's certainly not one to skimp on the details, even in everyday conversation, let alone in books she thinks no-one else is going to look back through. Whoo, that was a steamy summer's afternoon. I read that diary from cover to cover in one sitting, and I'll admit that by the end my own engine was in need of a little pressure relief. Those stories definitely seemed to know the right buttons to press.

To be honest, it was hardly a surprise. It was coming up to that time of the year again, the one that no-one (apart from maybe me or Cathy, in very loud voices in order to embarrass the guys at work) feels comfortable talking about. Yes, I mean heat, bitch. The week that every anthro goes through once every year where your shoulders tighten, your head spins, your abdomen itches and your scent glands go into overdrive. Every guy you set eyes upon is a potential pleasure factory, a cub-spawner, a fire-quencher, and the smoking hot ones make you want to pant and howl out loud for consummation. Every day is filled with twitches, prickly sweats, the stench of perfume to mask the primal odour practically screaming out "Fuck me!" to every male in the vicinity, bent double in the break room while your insides tie themselves into knots between your legs; just trying to make it through the day until you can slink off home, shut yourself away and spend some quality time keeping the nymphomania at bay until you can head off to a party and get it sorted for real. There's a saying about how you should never leave a vixen in heat around the household pets, and I can say from personal experience that there's more truth in that than you might think.

For the females among us, we usually know about it a couple of weeks in advance; the whole process starts with a couple of twinges from downstairs and you know you have to start putting the pads in your underwear for a little while, otherwise people start to notice in unfortunate ways. The main period lasts about a week before it tapers off and life gets back to normal, and the last couple of days are the killers. For the males, however, and how I pity them, there's much less warning; all year a guy could be fine, and then suddenly, BAM. One day he's watching the football and out with the mates, and the next he's taking a detour to the nearest toilets and painting the walls white. If you catch a guy in heat, boy are you in for a good ride, and if you're in heat too... Fuck. I only ever had the experience once, when my heat coincided with my then boyfriend's big weekend, and such a whiteout of pleasure I have never experienced. I couldn't get out of the bed for the rest of the day without crumbling into a twitching heap on the ground.

Anyway, after that Sunday I pretty much knew the heat was on the way. It was the middle of June after all, the usual time of year for me to get a little feisty, and I'd been feeling a bit more on-edge than normal for a couple of days. The pleasure release after the reading session was satisfying, but I could tell the desire would only get more intense as the new week wore on. To be honest I was quite looking forward to it: it was only once a year, after all, and for all the discomfort it causes the pleasure you gain from a week in heat is incomparable to pretty much anything else. It's like God takes a megaphone and sticks it between your legs, so you can hear every little tingle, twitch or flutter amplified a thousand times on the way to your brain. After a good, deep encounter you end up bobbing in a lake of ecstasy, overwhelmed by satisfaction, floating on the retiring wave of your own senses in the warm sea of gratification. It makes the whole "Don't touch me or I'll explode over you" situation while surviving the rest of the day entirely worth it, I can assure you.

Of course, Daria, my boyfriend, noticed my shift in physicality pretty much immediately. He's the kind of guy who picks up on these things even if you try to hide them, and I guess that us sleeping in the same bed doesn't help either. It's difficult not to reveal more than you intend to when you sink down next to your boyfriend with cramped shoulders, twitching ears and stinking of lust. I earned myself a tap on the shoulder.

"Jeez, Megan. Didn't you just have a shower?"

I scrunched down further into the bed covers and turned away. It's hard not to be a little disgruntled when your boyfriend remarks on how much you smell, even if it is the season's fault.

"Yes," I snapped, a little more sharply than I'd intended. Served him right.

"Oh, I know what this is." A wet husky nose traced the line of my neck, following my revealing scent. Daria placed a hand over my shoulder. "Is it that time of year again?"

I remained facing in the opposite direction. "Maybe."

"Ah, Megan." Daria laced his arm around my snow-white upper torso and pulled me into a sideways hug. I sighed. "You can 'maybe' all you want, but I think someone's getting hot."

I game him a shred of a smile. "Doesn't mean you'll be getting anything from me."

"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean you wouldn't want to give it to me regardless."

I felt Daria's paws begin rubbing my tight shoulders to soothe them. Boy, does that guy know the right spots. I gave a small groan, half of dull pain and half of crumbling pleasure, and glanced around at him. I knew what was going on.

"Excuse me, but that's not going to get you anywhere," I informed him. "I took care of myself earlier this evening. I'm perfectly satisfied, thank you." This was becoming more of a lie by the second, but he wasn't to know that.

"So that's why you're so uptight. Still got the adrenaline going, huh?" The paws dug deeper into my aching muscles and an involuntary moan sprung from my mouth.

"Yes, but tha-aaaaaaa-fuck. You're a persistent bastard, aren't you?" I rolled over, grinning and a little excited despite myself, and placed a hand on Daria's chest. "Maybe...maybe I wouldn't say no."

Daria's green eyes lit up, and he took my hand in his. Looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Actually, I have a better idea."

"Huh?" I asked, slightly crestfallen. I dropped my hand.

"Well, if you're just getting into heat, that means we've got a whole week ahead of us to have fun. Wouldn't want to waste energy on the first day, now, would we?"

"But - but I - "

"And besides, I thought you'd said you'd taken care of today." Daria gave a wry smile. "Miss 'I'm perfectly satisfied'."

I pulled myself closer to him like a rock climber climbing a mountain, flopping over his brilliantly toned chest. "OK, I lied, I do want it." Put on the baww-eyes and the innocent grin. "Dari?"

Daria merely observed me from above. He sighed amusedly.

"Come on, hun."

"I'd rather we weren't spent after the first mild longing when we know there's better to come. Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves, right?"

I increased the baww-eyes and whimpered a little. He didn't flinch. This guy was strong.

"Look." Daria gently lifted my chin with his palm. "It's like a train. The later you get off, the more fun you're gonna have. Like a...train into Disneyland."

I muffled a laugh. "That's a rubbish analogy."

"Alright." Daria chucked and hugged my head to his mahogany chest. I could hear his heart beating, pulsing; it turned me on. I wanted it inside of me. "Tell you what: forget today, and we'll make our plans for this week. Every evening, each one better than the last."

I perked up, my ears alert. "Every evening?"

"You got it. If the heat's upon us, we might as well make the most of it."

I tugged at his shoulders and complained. "Then why not now?"

"Because, Megan, I want to see your self-restraint. It's something you seem to lack."

I huffed and slumped back onto my own pillow, muzzle buried in the folds. "Fine, Daria." I turned and shot him a glance. "But you'd better be serious. I want you to go through with this."

"Of course, babes." Daria settled down in the bed and kissed me on the forehead. "Why wouldn't I?"

I curled up and closed my eyes, my stomach itching.

*

Thankfully, as it happened, the next morning wasn't as full of growing physical agitation as I had feared. Another Monday at work; I showered, laid the perfume on slightly thicker than usual, checked my blue hair in the mirror, slipped a pad in-between my legs (through a personal experience that I have no intentions of describing to anyone, I've found it's better to be on the safe side) and, on an impulse, brought Cathy's diary along in my handbag. Before you go any further, yes I was planning to give it back to her; it's just that things didn't quite pan out that way.

I work as a sales assistant in Debenhams. To some people that might sound incredibly boring, but it's only about as boring to them as I'd find their monotonous office job working day after day to analyse market growth and supercharge the business team. I can do my own kinds of growth analysis and supercharging, but instead of on money and data it's on clothes, which personally I find much more relevant and a ton more enjoyable. You've got to spot the right size of jacket, re-stock the underwear, supercharge the fashion statement, analyse the growth of the customer when you're asked "Do you have this in a bigger size, or a slimmer waist, or a brighter pink?" I will confess that I love clothes, so a job in a department store that sells them? Good enough for me. The people who work there are a great laugh, too - it's where I originally met Daria a couple of years ago, and Cathy before that, plus countless others that I get on well with. Our group's known as the Debenhams 12 outside of the shop, although I admit the ring to that has been enshadowed slightly ever since the Japanese nuclear incident.

Now, when I said "give the diary back to Cathy", in all truthfulness those were my intentions. It wasn't my fault that I was early to the break room for lunch, and me and some work mates were having a laugh, and Cathy was tied up with a customer. We were on the topic of boys, and once again it was just too good an opportunity to miss. I fished the diary out of my bag and motioned for Sammy and Marcus to huddle closer.

"Want to read something hot?"

Sammy, my red fox workmate who usually helped me out on the floor when we worked the same shifts, squinted at the cover.

"Cathy's diary? What the hell are you doing with that?"

"She'd left it somewhere, so I picked it up for her." That wasn't a lie, was it? I hid a grin. "I've read a smidgeon. It's juicy."

Sammy gasped. "Megan! You're not supposed to do things like that!"

"Oh come on," I retorted indignantly. "You've seen Angello, and this book's full of him. Don't tell me you wouldn't look. I know you, Sammy."

"I wouldn't disagree with that," remarked Marcus. "She can be quite the deviant. Always checking out the celebrity gossip, and I caught her spying on me in the shower the other day - "

He earned himself a punch on the shoulder. "And you can stop right there, Mister! How would you like it if I went around revealing all of your secrets?" She sighed and bent over my shoulder. "Alright. What's the meat?"

"Well." I smiled gleefully and turned to the recent pages. "Check this. 'Wednesday the 5th of June: Exhausting day at work today. Came home dog tired but Angello was already back, and he'd made up dinner for two. We drew the curtains in the evening and what started out as kisses and cuddles on the sofa turned into something very different, as these types of things tend to do when Angello is involved. Before I knew it my skirt was on the floor and he had his head between my legs! Seriously, he has the tongue of a God. I reckon I'll need to get those sofa cushions dry-cleaned now.'" I'd descended into fits of giggles, as had Sammy. Marcus sat looking half fixated, half repulsed.

"Are you sure we want to be reading through all of this?"

I gathered myself a little. "It's fine! It's not as if Cathy's around to hear - "

At that moment the loudest, most piercing scream rang out over the break room. Before I knew what was happening, a speeding blur of black cat was heading straight towards me from the doorway.

"MY DIARY! FUCKING BITCH WOLF, MEGAN!"

My blue hair was yanked back; I screamed, dropped the diary and toppled off the side of the bench.

"Argh! Cathy, hair, hair - !"

"READING MY BOOK OUT TO EVERY WHO'S-WHO - "

"I found it, it was lying on the - "

"CAN'T KEEP YOUR FUCKING NOSE OUT OF MY STUFF - "

"Cathy, seriously, stop with the hair - "

"MEGAN FUCKWIT CHARMAN I AM GOING TO CLAW YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT - "

"ENOUGH."

Daria's cool voice rang out over the break room. All eyes were now on me and Cathy, me struggling on the floor and her attempting to wrench my blue locks clean out of my head. Under Daria's stern gaze we both froze, following his path from the doorway over to our table. He was surveying the odd situation with a mixture of confusion and distaste.

"Girls, what on earth is going on?"

Cathy exploded. "Megan's been reading my diary to everyone!"

"It's only because - "

" First it disappears from my bedroom and I have no idea where it's gone, and then she has it and she's letting the whole world know about my private life, and - "

"It was by the window, anyone could have taken it! I did you a favour - "

"Oh, favour, bullshit! You were reading it to the whole break room, thank you very much - "

"Well what about the salty coffee incident?"

"That was a joke, and it wasn't a diary! Just because it's your time of year doesn't mean you can descend into some kind of voyeur just like that - "

I was taken aback. "You - you can tell - ?"

"Of course I can, Megan," Cathy smirked. "You don't even have to be that close, and I was in your hair - "

"Fuck you, bitch!" At once my face was up against Cathy's, teeth bared. Daria pushed between us, Cathy's diary retrieved from the floor and in his hand.

"Ladies, please." He presented the closed diary to Cathy, who snatched it and stuffed it deep into her bag, and turned to me. "Megan, did you take the diary?"

"What do you care?" I snapped. "You're not my mother."

"Because it's stealing, first of all, and we'd already talked about your self-restraint. Your impulsiveness is going to land you in big trouble one day, and you know I want to avoid that just as much as you do."

"Bigger trouble than you think, Megan." Cathy shot me a glare which I returned with vigour.

"But what's a diary got to do with it? It's not exactly serious."

"Not serious?" Daria remarked amusedly. "Aren't you forgetting you nearly had your hair torn out just a minute ago?"

"Yes, but - "

"Megan, it's the principle that counts. I think you need a little more character-building experience, something to fit the crime." Daria was thinking, and I felt a little worried.

"It'd have to be a sexy punishment," piped up Sammy. "What with the steamy stories she was reading - "

This was drowned out by shrieks as Cathy employed the hair tactic once again. Thanks a lot, Sammy. I vowed to myself that she's be the next one getting salt in her coffee.

Daria, however, appeared enlightened. "I think I know what we can do. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two, Megan." He smiled impenetrably. I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but that made it all the more uncomfortable. Daria was capable of more than he let on. "Cathy, would you be interested in helping?"

At once Cathy appeared at his side, failing to mask eagerness. "Help? With what?"

"With ensuring that Megan sticks to the straight and narrow." This didn't sound good. "Megan, considering the time of year, I think this would be the perfect opportunity for training self-restraint by practicing abstaining.

"What do you mean?"

"Refraining from any kind of sexual activity or gratification for the rest of this week."

"What? No!" This was a stupid idea. "Daria, this is my time of year. Do you have any idea how difficult - "

"Of course I do, which is why I think it would be the best time to challenge you."

I didn't get it. How was he expecting this to work? Plus we'd had an agreement to get it on every night this week, which I didn't want to lose.

"But what if I don't want to go through with this? There's no way you can make me."

Daria considered. "Well, first of all, the evening arrangements we had for this week are off for a start - "

"WHAT?"

" - but I'll move them on to next week, just to give you a bit of motivation; the carrot, so to speak. I'll make it worth your while, trust me." He smiled conspicuously. "On the other hand, if you don't co-operate then I'm sure I know a story or two about you that I could tell the break room. I always thought the one about the pad business was quite - "

I leapt forward and slammed a hand over his mouth. "You can keep quiet, Mister. That stays under wraps."

Daria pulled my hand away casually. "Then I trust we have a deal?" He grinned and I hated him for it.

"But you can't keep an eye on me twenty-four seven!" I was trying desperately to fight my way out of this unfair blackmail. "You have different shifts to me, and I need my privacy every so often."

"That's where Cathy comes in." Daria pulled her over. "She'll be watching you, and I'll let your friends know to keep a keen eye on you, just in case. If you need the loo, or something to eat, Cathy will be your escort, just to make sure no accidents happen."

"Sounds good to me." Cathy wore a satisfyingly amused look that I did not return.

"And if the worst comes to the worst, I'll be able to check your faithfulness with a simple shoulder massage. If you've taken any liberties with yourself, you'll have tightened up and I'll be able to tell."

"But...this isn't fair!" I exclaimed. "It's an invasion of privacy!"

"Says the girl who, five minutes ago, was reading through someone else's diary," Daria smirked. He sauntered off to fetch some lunch, leaving me feeling deeply uneasy.

*

Unfortunately for me, by the end of the day it was becoming more and more evident that my heat was indeed beginning to build. I certainly felt my temper was a few inches shorter than normal (although this could just as easily have been as a result of the humiliating experience I now had to put up with for the rest of the week), which meant the few troublesome customers were even more of a chore than normal. As I finally headed out for the train station at five, I swear to God that if I'd had to stand another minute of a moaning Grandfather or a drawling fashion wannabe or a bawling child, someone was going to get a fucking Ug boot so far up their arsehole they'd be able to read the label poking out of their mouth.

I sat on the backless metal bench at the station, next to Daria, with my legs delicately crossed and twitching involuntarily like two irritable antennae. The perfume had worn off since this morning and even I was beginning to notice my own scent: a mixture of musk, masked desire and sweat. And boy was it a warm evening. That was part of the reason why I hated having my heat in summer: as if you didn't get hot enough, you also had a twenty eight degree temperature to contend with. Trust England not to rain at the one time of year it would have been most useful. Just the thought of myself dancing naked out in the cool rain; what a relief that would be -

"Here's the train," Daria remarked as, true enough, it slowed and pulled into the station. I ignored him. Maybe he should have considered the prospect of a lack of train-related conversation before he started blackmailing me. We chose an empty group of four seats and I sat the opposite side of the mini table to him, and only when we were moving did I open my mouth to ask the question I already knew was futile.

"So are you actually going to go through with this?"

"Through with what?"

"You know what. The whole Nazi-regime against me."

"I'd hardly call it that. But yes, of course I am."

"Even after what you promised me for the next week?" I failed to keep my secret pleading in the sentence adequately concealed.

"Relax, Megan. You'll still get it, it'll just be later on. The train into Disneyland, remember?" He grinned.

"I'm actually surprised you can't you think of a better metaphor than that." I sighed. "But seriously, Daria, I really don't think I can do this. You've seen me, you know how shit I am at waiting for things."

"Practice makes perfect, does it not?"

"But - "

"Megan, you'll be fine." Daria dismissed me with a light wave of one paw. "You get what you give. Just a little discomfort and it'll all be worth it. You're not going to sway me."

Well, that was that, then. I resumed operation cold-shoulder-the-bastard and retired to watch the landscape slip past outside, very aware of my floating musk that revealed perhaps more than I would have liked it to. This was going to be a trying next couple of days, I could tell.

The evening itself was trying enough. After a dinner of middle-Eastern curry at home (which, although delicious, did no favours for my already prickling stomach, I can tell you), Daria and I settled down in the living room to watch a film on the TV. I couldn't even tell you what film it was, because for the whole hour and a half all I was able to concentrate on was my fidgeting in the seat and crossing and uncrossing of my legs. My insides felt ravenous, despite just having eaten dinner; they were drooling a little in complaint, except instead of saliva it was... Yeah, you get the picture. When the girl and her appropriately buff boyfriend kissed passionately for whatever reason the directors had come up with this time, I had to clamp my mouth shut to forcibly stop myself from groaning.

No sooner had the first of the credits started rolling than I leapt up agitatedly from the sofa and announced I was going to shower and then to bed.

"This early?" Daria called after me as I shuffled off into the hallway.

"Y- yes. I'm - feeling tired."

"OK. But remember our agreement. I'll ask your shoulders afterwards."

"Yes, I remember!" I grumbled. No chance of some sneaky me-time then.

The shower proved to be thoroughly uncomfortable. I don't know if you realise what it's like to be in a hot, wet and steamy room where you have to rub yourself down, when all you desperately want to do is rub yourself off. On the bright side, it turns out I did have at least some self-control, as Daria seemed satisfied after having given my neck and shoulders a thorough checking over.

"If you don't mind," he remarked with a slight smile as I slunk off into the bedroom, "I think I'll stay up a little longer. I'm not ready quite yet. There are some things that need doing."

"Fine by me." I didn't care; all I wanted to do was go to bed. I shut the door abruptly behind me.

Predictably, sleeping was difficult. Stuck in the stifling dark, I contorted the bed covers trying to get into a comfortable position. The summer had provided me with the warmest evening of the month so far (or so it felt like), and all I could concentrate on was the burning void between my legs. This was ridiculous. I had to relieve some of the pressure or I wouldn't sleep a wink for the whole night. It had to be done.

Ears pricked for any sounds of Daria approaching the bedroom, a solitary paw crept underneath the waistband of my underwear. I could feel my whole abdomen tingling, crying out for the touch it longed so strongly for. I closed my eyes, still alert, and pushed further down. If I played it right, no-one would know. My craving fur felt comfortably warm, but the area between my legs was a lot damper than I was expecting in the short while since I'd dried myself off from the shower. Almost like the time when -

Something was nagging in my mind and my hand froze. Memories of the event Daria had threatened me with were flooding back. God, it makes me cringe thinking about it even now, and the sheer embarrassment of what would happen if that story got out made me think twice about going any further. OK, I thought, I was pretty lewd at times, but not that lewd. I still had some dignity, all of which would be lost if Daria got the faintest whiff of what was going on in this bedroom.

Speaking of whiffs, I suddenly realised how much scent had enveloped me in the short period since I'd first climbed into bed. I couldn't go any further; he'd know. Daria always knew, one way or another, and having that story get out was the last thing I wanted. Plus, already judging by the moistness of the brand new pad I'd put in just after the shower, there was no way I'd be able to get out to the bathroom and clean myself up after having taken care of business. He'd notice, want to check my shoulders and then I'd really be up shit creek. And what if I called out in the heat of the moment? It wasn't worth the risk.

With a half-sigh, half-groan, and with more grit that I ever thought I possessed, I withdrew the paw and left my body moaning in disappointment. The fur on my index finger returned damp and slightly sticky, so I leaned over and wiped it quickly on the carpet. Then, part of me questioning the worth this new-found degree of control, I rolled over and tried my best to get some sleep.

You could say that trying was in vain. When I did eventually and reluctantly pass out, my dreams were far from restful ones. Every toss and turn would agitate the growing desperation inside; hot, smoking males would pass by me behind frosted glass; I was stuck on an arid desert island under the baking sun; Daria weaved in and out of the broken reality, always with the same knowing smile. "You've got no self-restraint, Megan," he'd drawl as I tried hopelessly to shake that self-satisfied smirk from my sight. "No self-restraint..."

Waking in the dark after several tortuous hours of this repetitive nightmare, I knew two things. One, my body's yearning was even worse than it had been before, and two, I desperately needed a piss. The two combined were almost more than I could bear. Trying to get my bearings in the dark, I felt Daria's frame breathing deeply next to me; that was good, at least, as long as I didn't wake him. Guided only by the red stenciled numbers reading 02:34 on the desk beside the door, I painstakingly extracted myself from the bed covers and tottered gingerly towards where I thought the doorway was.

And then suddenly -

"Shit - !"

My face collided hard with the closed door as my left foot refused to move forward. The red numbers from the alarm clock were whisked into the pressing gloom as I stumbled into the bedside cabinet, before tripping over my own feet and collapsing head over heels in a heap. Then, out of nowhere it was raining - freezing cold water, at that - and a resounding thud echoed around the bedroom. I cried out in pain.

"MOTHERFUCKING BITCH - !"

The blinding light flicked on and Daria was towering over me.

"Enjoy our cold shower, did we?"

*

"I fucking hate you."

"I had a feeling you were going to try and sneak out in the middle of the night, so I tripwired the door with a bucket."

"I fucking hate you."

"What? The shower wasn't cold enough for you?"

"I." Slam cup down on sideboard. "Fucking." Throw coffee in. "Hate." Top up with water. "You." Jam kettle back down on its stand.

"Care for a crumpet?"

"If you haven't already realised," I hissed as I stalked past Daria into the dining room, "I fucking hate your guts right now."

"Really? I have to say I hadn't noticed. Maybe you should voice these things more."

"Fuck you!" I wheeled violently around, spattering coffee onto the carpet. "This is all your fault, you know! Maybe if you'd just screw me once in a while - "

"You sound like a forty-year-old woman - "

" - or at least let me do it myself - "

"So when's the divorce lawyer coming around?"

" - then we wouldn't be having this argument!"

"Or spilling coffee over my nice clean carpet, Mildred! The chemist rang, you bought them out of penis repellent! Why don't you go take my house, my children and hook up with your ex if he's such a man?"

This was fucking infuriating. My stomach no less agitated than yesterday evening, I squatted fuming in front of the television watching the early morning GMTV crew explaining how incredibly hot the weather was going to be over the next few days. Maybe if I'd known what was in store for me within the next twelve hours I would have thought a little differently.

Tuesday mornings are about as enjoyable as Monday mornings, except that you don't get the concession of it being the beginning of the week any more. If there's one day I'd love to give a kick in the fucking nuts to, it's Tuesday. Useless failure of a day. You do know that Tuesday was the last day the Romans adopted in order to please Jesus, right? Stupid adopted Tuesday. No-one likes you. Fatty no-parents.

This foul mood of mine pervaded what was already set up to be a grizzly little shit of a work morning. It wasn't helped in the slightest by the appearance of Cathy as soon as I staggered through the door; sporting the ridiculous kind of beret a French movie director would wear, and positively gleeful at the sight of my disheveled and sleepless carcass, she grabbed me by the arm and practically tore me away from Daria, who was breaking off from us to go and get a drink of water.

"Megan!" Cathy exclaimed in the most irritating way imaginable. "Aren't you looking forward to today? I positively couldn't wait!"

"It's seven o'clock on a Tuesday morning. I'm half-asleep."

"Oh come now, Megan." Cathy tugged at my elbow and steered me forcefully towards the female clothing section of the store. "Feeling a little sticky this morning, are we?"

Sticky? - Oh, fuck off, Cathy. I felt like hitting her with my handbag but couldn't muster the energy.

"And the best thing is, all day today you're under my watch! Isn't that fantastic?"

"Shit." I'd forgotten about this. More sunshine to add to a positively glowing prospect of a morning. "Look, I'm going to the loo. I'll be back in five."

"Oh no you don't!" Cathy's paw caught my shoulder. "I'm supervising you all the time today, and that means the bathrooms too."

"You'd better be fucking kidding me."

"I am not fucking kidding you, Megan," Cathy giggled. My temper was quickly on the rise. "We can go when I say we can go, and right now there are clothes that need sorting before the shop opens."

"Fuck you!"

I tried to make a break for it, but Cathy's claws latched with an iron grip onto my arm, and the other paw caught a hold of my hair. I screamed but was dragged helplessly backwards into the clothing aisles.

"Get your hands off me, you bitch!"

"The more you scream, the longer it'll take!"

I could tell Cathy was enjoying the retribution immensely. Eventually I conceded, fuming, to help stock the hundred or so new shirts; by the end of it all I was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Finally, at just gone half seven, Cathy appeared to be satisfied.

"Oi, Little Miss Smart-Arse," I screeched in her ear. "Unless we take a toilet break very soon, you're going to be the one cleaning up what's about to happen."

I dashed off before Cathy could grab a hold of me once more, but not so fast that she'd lose sight of me. Slipping quickly into the bathrooms, I briskly locked myself in one of the cubicles as I heard Cathy burst in through the main door. Thankfully, at this ungodly hour of the morning, the room was otherwise empty.

"I'll be listening, Megan!" Cathy called out mockingly. "Don't try anything!"

"For God's sake, I just want a piss! I'm not a criminal!"

Sitting down, I relaxed for the first time in half an hour and became satisfyingly aware of the inner pressure inside me draining steadily away. Alongside this enjoyable experience, however, the rest of my downstairs area was feeling decidedly agitated. The trickling flow of relief was doing nothing for the itch I desperately longed to spend some time scratching, and a quick glance at the formerly fresh pad sitting in my underwear revealed that the tension of the past half-hour had had its effect on the slow but persistent signs of my growing heat. I was also uncomfortably mindful that the small symphony I was making against the toilet bowl would no doubt be clearly audible to Cathy, so I squashed myself as far forwards as the seat would allow.

My slip of toilet paper coming back a little sticky as well as damp, I grit my teeth against the burning desire that had sprung up from that whisper of a touch, replaced the now useless pad with a more comfortable, newer one, restored my clothing to its rightful place and pulled the flush. Unlocking the cubicle door, I was greeted by a smirking bitch.

"Is it better now, Meg-Meg?"

Grinding my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn't shatter, I held my tongue and turned the water on in the basin. No sooner had I finished with the soap than Cathy unceremoniously pincered my arm once again and hauled me towards the exit.

"Wait - hand dryer - !"

"You'll live, Megan! We need to get back to work!"

That morning was the hardest five fucking hours I've ever had to endure. Not only did I have to contend with constantly squirming insides, a persistent prickly sweat and the world's most vindictive bitch of a supposed friend, I was on the job. I had to smile at customers and talk in a helpful tone, and hold my nerve whenever someone brought back the sixteenth pair of socks that were slightly the wrong shade of pink. As lunch time drew closer I felt like I'd worked a full day already, and the thought of a further afternoon of plastic grinning and slave labour did nothing to lift my spirits.

Midday break finally arrived. We stumbled into the break room and, taking advantage of Cathy's momentary lapse to go and buy some food from the cafeteria desk, I scampered over to Daria who was downing a bottle of water on the table nearest to the door.

"I can't fucking deal with this!" I hissed to him, eyes on Cathy's place in the food line. "Cathy's being insufferable, I feel like I'm on edge every minute of the day, my body's crying out for attention, I swear I'm going to snap if this goes on much longer - "

I could tell Daria wasn't concentrating on me at all. He appeared unusually pale and his wide green eyes were darting restlessly around the room.

"Right. Look, Megan, I think I'm gonna have to head home, I'm feeling all - "

"Are you even listening to me? Daria - "

"Megan, I have to go." With unexpected pace, Daria leapt uncomfortably up from the bench and hurried out of the break room door. I was left feeling nonplussed and slightly abandoned.

"Oi, Megan! Over here!" Cathy and Sammy were gesturing to an empty table, so I slunk off reluctantly to fetch myself some food.

Even my cynical mood earlier the same morning couldn't have predicted just quite how slowly that afternoon would drag by. Cathy's patronising tone, of course, was unfaltering, as was the constant stream of dimwitted customers, never-ending antagonists whose sole purpose was to drive you as far up the wall as gravity physically allowed.

"Have you got this a size bigger?"

"Megan! White shirts over here!"

"Oh, sorry, that's too big. I'll have the smaller one after all."

"More customers, Megan!"

"Actually, do you have that in blue?"

"Don't run off out of my sight, Megan!"

"Will you fucking quit it?" I pinned Cathy to the wall in the rear store warehouse, my breath hot and my lamenting stomach twinging.

At long last, as the clock finally dragged its hands kicking and screaming over the twelve, it hit four o'clock. Thank fucking God. All I wanted to do was to go home, as far away from Cathy as possible, and keel over on a bed or a sofa. And the thought of having this kind of day over and over for the next week... I didn't even want to think about it. If only Cathy hadn't walked in at the wrong moment yesterday, none of this would have happened anyway. Black cats are fucking bad luck.

Leaving Cathy before she had a chance to try and coerce me into more work, I grabbed my handbag and took flight for the train station. It was pretty obvious to me now that my heat had built up substantially since the early morning: the prickly sweat that had plagued me throughout the day was now hanging around my lower back, I could feel a definite dampness, slightly uncomfortable, between my legs, and my throat was parched. I remembered the way Daria had downed a full bottle of water in the break room at lunch time; God, that was what I needed. Pure, cool, thirst-quenching goodness on this indignantly sticky summer afternoon. As I approached the Pumpkin Café on the station, however, my train happened to pull into sight out of the blue, much to my dismay. Well shit. Guess I'd have to wait until I got home.

Gasping for water like I'd just trekked across a desert, and with the desire that had been smouldering inside me all day flaring up inexplicably, I stumbled through the front door twenty minutes later. For once, heat urges weren't the most pressing thing on my mind; rushing to the kitchen, I filed myself a glass of water and drained it gratefully, then poured another. That was the stuff. Summer heat, eat your heart out.

Or maybe not. There was something in the air, something I hadn't fully noticed when I'd hurried inside a minute ago. It was a kind of smell, something I was sure felt familiar from somewhere, a scent that filled my lungs and made my body quiver and tingle. I was suddenly very aware of the warm moistness between my legs. I recognised that aroma, that call of longing -

"Daria?"

Daria was nowhere to be found. I followed the scent cautiously along the hallway and approached the bedroom. There was something else: a stream of low, rhythmic moans of pleasure was sneaking its way out through the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. My heart leapt into my mouth. It wasn't possible. Not my Daria. He would never -

Steeling myself, I tiptoed up to the door and paused. Then, with as much force as I could possibly muster, I burst inside.

"WHAT IS - holy fuck - !"

The scene was not at all what I'd imagined. The curtains were drawn, the stench of desire pungent on the air, and in front of the computer sat Daria, completely naked with both paws under the desk, wearing the most intense look of shock and shame I have ever seen on a guy's face. He almost jumped out of his chair.

"Shit, Megan - !"

I gasped and backed out of the room in sheer embarrassment. The computer was still issuing the steadily increasing moans.

"What - what are you doing in the bedroom?"

"Oh my God, don't stop, keep going - "

"I - I can explain - !"

"Deeper, harder!"

"Will you shut that bloody thing off!" I snapped, well aware that my stomach was suddenly in flames once again. This was not the time. Daria kicked the button on the power box under the desk and the speakers fell silent.

"Thank you." After my work day from hell, I felt rightly indignant. "What exactly has been going on?"

"I - I think my heat hit this morning." Daria was shuffling uncomfortably, keeping as much of his body concealed under the desk as possible. "I knew it wouldn't be long until I came into season, and it just sprang out of the blue - "

If you thought I'd take the opportunity to lay into him, you'd be damn right. Fucking hypocrite bastard.

"You fucking hypocrite bastard!" I shouted in disbelief. "You send me out and tell me not to commit to pleasure for a whole week, and then at the first sign of trouble you run away back home and wank off 'till kingdom come - !"

"Megan - "

"Do you have any idea what kind of a day I've had? Cathy's been acting like a circus ringleader, I've been paraded around as her pet dog, I even had to stand around needing a piss for half a fucking hour - "

"But - " Daria had stood up, maybe in an attempt to escape, but I cut over him.

"My whole body's been crying out constantly, I've got through about four pads - "

"I - "

"And all because of your fucking retarded plan to give me payback for reading that God damn dia-aaaaahh- "

I gasped and froze, tingling. I'd stepped forwards up close to Daria, we were nose to nose, I was so close I could smell his pungent desire redolent on the air, and...something was pressing in-between my legs. I swallowed.

"Is... Is that your - ?"

He nodded. A certain shroud had fallen over the room, enveloping us inside it. I was suddenly short of breath, and a caterwauling lioness had awoken in my chest. My knees quivered slightly.

"And, when you were - did you end up - "

Daria shook his head, and I knew he'd understood. He hadn't got off yet. My stomach felt as though it had just been dropped off Mount Everest. Every breath I took was filled with his scent, the stench of lust that was now surrounding us, my oozing longing mingling with his. Something warm and sticky was beginning to trickle a little down the inside of my leg, on its own accord. Those green eyes were all I could see.

"Well... I'm sure you'd hardly approve, but - "

Fuck it. I threw caution to the wind and my muzzle latched onto his, my arms around his back, and we both toppled backwards onto the bed. Before I knew what was happening, my clothes were practically being ripped off by two strong, toned arms. He was underneath me, and then on top, and then we were under the blankets, kissing fiercely, my desperate hands embracing every part of him I could reach -

"Oh, I fucking missed this - "

I wasn't sure which of us had shouted out; it could have been both. All I knew was I was holding something moving, beating, alive, and there were paws all over my back, around my breasts, between my thighs, caressing my behind, my tail wrapped around his body. I moaned in crumpling pleasure and every nerve was on fire, and then out of nowhere a new sensation wracked my trembling body. It was big, massive, a connection - I was part of the groaning, panting husky my arms were holding, and gravity was upside-down, forcing us together, scratching the itch I'd been burning to satisfy for days on end. I cried out, a howl of consummation - I couldn't help myself - I couldn't control anything - I just wanted more, to scratch harder, to push further, as undulating waves of euphoria tore at my heart and soul. My nails gripping the back of Daria's shoulders, I clenched every muscle and dragged my body up against his, straining with all my might, feeling passion build upon passion as another breathless cry escaped my muzzle -

"Oh my God - don't stop - keep going - "

The room was turning white and a balloon was filling inside me, swelling, every breath of contact heightening the ecstasy in my brain, filling me with rapturous delight. I was gripped by it; flinging myself back onto the soft clouds I howled, again and again, letting my husky God rip apart my inhibitions as I tightened around him, feeling the crests of lust shake my inadequate body to pieces, feeling the balloon growing, swelling, building, climbing, and a tidal wave was in sight, arching over me like a chariot, just a couple of feet from me, just a few - steps - further -- almost -- almost --

I was powerless. Holding my final breath earthly breath, my body was wracked with a last, great, piercing howl as the tidal wave hit me full in the face.

It was sunny. I was vaguely aware that my body was convulsing pleasurably - very pleasurably. My lungs were heaving for breath, yet I didn't need to breathe at all. I knew I was floating, looking up at the sky, the sun silky and warm on my face, and everything was happening in slow motion. As I bobbed gently up and down on this sea of white gold, a curious sensation was fluttering in my lower abdomen and between my legs. There was something oozy and viscous, like nectar, warm and satisfying, that felt like it was coating me from the inside. I reclined and let it continue - something told me there was a desperate need for it to do so - and stared up into the crystal blue nothingness. The insides of my thighs were warm too, and sticky - I caressed one with a finger and, bringing it to my face, found it covered with syrup, the scent tantalising and the taste sweeter than anything I'd every known. Licking my pristine fur clean, I dangled the finger in the water and I knew where I was. I felt relaxed, alone, and covered in pure love.

"Megan?"

Someone was beside me. Tilting my head to the left, I saw the love of my life was staring unblinkingly into my cool, blue eyes. I smiled.

"Yes, Daria?

"I love you, Megan"

"I love you too."

Then we were kissing, eyes closed, blessed by the light of the sun. When I opened them again I was back on the bed, back in reality with the curtains gently swaying, but those green eyes and their unblinking gaze had come right back with me.

*

Daria and I sauntered into work the following day, intending to gloat to Cathy that the deal was now off, but instead found a bunch of people hanging around in the doorway. In the centre was Cathy herself, Blackberry in her hand and giggling profusely, as were a fair number of the other spectators. She looked up, pointed at us, screamed and burst out laughing.

"Look! It's them!"

A monumental cheer rose up from the crowd. People scurried over; some slapped me and Daria on the back while others made violent pelvic thrusting movements in our direction. Nonplussed but extremely suspicious, I weaved my way towards the centre of the congregation.

"Cathy, what the fuck have you done now - ?"

In response, Cathy shoved the Blackberry at my face, breathless with laughter. I gasped and screamed too, but in quite a different way.

On the screen was a hand-shot video of mine and Daria's bedroom, filmed through a crack in the bungalow curtains. What was worse was that it was taken last night; I could hear my voice being projected out through the tinny speakers for everyone to hear.

"Oh my God - don't stop - keep going - "

"I - followed you home yesterday evening," Cathy spluttered in-between fits of laughter. "You took off so fast - I knew there was something going on - and I caught you-AAARGH!"

I had one arm around Cathy's neck and the other in her hair as I screeched into her ear.

"I WILL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH - "

"Megan!" Daria called. He had a smile on his face, of all things, and was holding up his mobile. I looked up indignantly.

"I have Angello's number. Maybe we could call him and strike a deal with Cathy? You know the one. It would give you particularly a nice taste of revenge, I must say."

Suddenly, I was grinning too.

"Sounds good to me!"