A Wild Muse
Warning! Warning! Warning! This story contains all those things your mom and dad said they'd tell you about when you grew up, in hopes you'd never ask again. Avert your eyes, lest this missage burns itself into your retinas, for I can't be held accountable for your marred purity! And all the rest. You know the deal. 18 blah blah don't read blah blah legal blah blah... Okay, enough on with the story. Warning! Warning! Warning! __________________ A Wild Muse - By Kandrel
- * * The gentle scratching of pencil across paper was only barely audiable in the silence of Keith's room. Papers littered the floor, some crumpled, some bearing footprints, and others ripped. In just a few moments, the pencil scratching stopped, and the sound was replaced with the violent echo of ripping paper. Another sheet drifted to the floor to join its bretheren. On its surface were circles and lines, succinct and sharp, without a form that would bring the drawing life, or pull it from the page. Keith buried his head in his hands, sighing loudly and putting his pad down on the bed and putting the pencil on the bedside table. Fleeting images flashed through his imagination of pictures he'd drawn, or pictures he could draw, and even a few he was sure he wasn't capable of drawing. He tried to hold one in his mind, tried to get detail, and feeling, and emotion, and life, but it flitted away, just out of reach. The pictures in his imagination surrounded him, teasing him like the countless multitude of failed attempts laying crumpled on the floor around him. The final straw, the final insult to his injury, lay across his small flat. Under harsh day-light bulbs, an empty canvas stood on an easel. Stacked in a haphazard pile below it, his creations lay face down, hiding whatever mastery his brush had brought them from the world. Standing, Keith growled under his breath, restlessness and anxiety getting the best of him. The show was only a month away, and none of the pieces he'd done so far would be appropriate. They weren't deep enough. They didn't hold enough soul. And none of them, none of them, were as good as the image his mind's eye saw. Each time he looked at his works, he saw through them the pristine view of his imagination as if seen through a clouded, stained glass. None of this was helping him prepare for the show. Finally reaching the decision that no more useful work would be completed tonight, Keith stalked over to his desk where piles of bills and reminder notices stood like forboding guardians. Shuffling around under the clutter, he pushed a button and heard a muffled beep. "You have 3 new messages. First message, today, 3 PM..." The automated voice trailed off into static, then broke into the voice of an old friend. "Keith! Buddy! Haven't seen you in a month. You still alive in there? You promised that if you were gonna kill yourself you'd at least let me know so we could use your body to disturb people. Remember? Anyway, remember the help you gave me a few years ago? It's finally paid off, and I owe you big. Meet me in town. 9. New scene opening up on Ash. See you there." BEEEP. "Eh, why not." mumbled Keith to himself. It wasn't as if anything else was happening tonight, and it had been a while since he'd gone out. He shuffled around under the bed and produced a relatively clean towel, then stalked off to the bathroom as the drone of the answering machine continued. The next message was from his sister, and she was expressing how concerned she was for him. He ignored it. Turning the hot water on in the shower, he hung the towel over the rack and turned to the mirror to see the damage. "Hell," he thought, "Looks like I've been in here for a month too." Tall for a clouded leopard, he had to stretch himself out and crack his back to lose the slouch he'd acquired over the last weeks of seclusion. His normaly lustrous fur looked dull and matted, the characteristic cloudy spots dirty brown, where they should have been tan. There were bags under his eyes, and the tip of one of his ears had a smudge of something on it. Shaking his head and promising to never let himself be sequesterd for this long again, he stepped into the shower, the mirror mercifully fading from view as the steam consumed his image. Hot water dribbled down his form, and for the first minute or so, it ran a little cloudy with the shed fur, dust, dirt, and other relics of seclusion. He cleared the drain, the fur having caught, and pulled out his fur brush, starting with the short fur between his ears and slowly combing the loose hairs away. Five minutes later, he felt like a whole new cat. He looked down at his fur, and where before there'd been dirty brown, now the soft fade from amber to tan covered his pelt in large, interlocking pieces. His markings had earned the name "Puzzle" as a kit, and instead of being ashamed of it, he wore the name like a badge. Moving the brush on to his legs and tail, he finally finished and stood under the water, letting the last hairs disappear into the drain. Now clean, he ran his paws over his body, picking loose fur and little granules of dirt free. Cupping his sheath and sighing, he judged the time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd masturbated. Must have been at least a week ago. A sharp pink finger of flesh poked from the black lips, before retreating back inside. Keith sighed again and moved his paws on, finishing with his inspection. Just before the water began to run warm, he turned the handle again, the spray fading into nothing. He grabbed the towel from the rack and slowly toweled himself dry. With a silent thanks for short fur that dried relatively quick, he stepped from the shower. Still drying his tail, he stepped into the cold air of his room. Paper crinkled under his feet as he left wet marks across the makeshift rug. He shivered a little and sat on his bed, searching under it for clean clothes. Finding a dusty pair of jeans (clean enough for a club) and a rather moderate shirt (it wasn't a turtleneck, it'd do.) he dressed quickly. He glanced over at the clock; eleven PM. A full night ahead of him if he wanted. Or maybe he'd just get out long enough for a breath of fresh air, then he'd get some sleep. He hadn't been getting much of that recently either. Opening his door and stepping out, he emerged into the grungy hallway, closing the door behind him. A number of equally unremarkable doors stood to the left, right and across from him. He pocketed his keys, checked his wallet for cash (enough for the cover charge, he hoped) and strolled downstairs. Outside, the city was much more interesting than it looked from behind his bedroom window. When he'd first rented his apartment, he'd thought that putting himself deep in a social district, surrounded by bars, clubs, independant record dealers, and fast food outlets. Instead, the noise interrupted his sleep, he'd stopped buying independant records, and his stomach complained at the though of another mystery meat burger. Regardless, though, he didn't think it would have affected his art at all. He was stuck. Nothing he'd tried could drag him out of it. At this point, he knew the show was shot. Walking down to Ash, he scanned the road, looking for anything new. The club wasn't difficult to spot, especially given the "Grand opening" sign glowing in pale neon out front. The entrance line traced up the street and around the corner on to 3rd. With a sigh, Keith stalked towards the line, hoping he'd recognize someone towards the front he could enter with. "Keith! Hey, lookout, walkin' corpse comin' through!" The same voice he'd heard on his answering machine called out from near the front of the line, and a smile, perhaps the first in a while, spread to Keith's face. Trotting towards the entrance, he finally saw Coreso, his acquaintance. The fox wasn't in line. Instead, he stood next to the bouncer, a rather intimidating zebra. "Oy, come on over." With a nod to the bouncer, Coreso dragged the bewildered leopard inside. Keith's senses were bombarded by the strobe, music so loud it vibrated his tail, and the smell of some rather harsh substances that made him light-headed. Two more steps, and Keith was engulfed by the crush of bodies. They were all moving, the floor shuddering in time just slightly out of beat with the music. It was hot enough to cause Keith to start panting, and only the constant pressure against him from the crowd kept him from stumbling as his head spun. Coreso dragged him onward, dodging through the crowd with practiced elegance while Keith struggled along behind. Finally the pair emerged from the crowd. Keith almost missed a step as they found a stairway leading down into the basement of the club. The stairwell was lit brightly compared to the dim glow of the dance floor and bar, pale blue flourescent bulbs winking down at them. The stairs were carpeted in sea blue, and Keith felt like he should be holding his breath as they descended. Opening a door, the fox led the leopard into a much quieter room, populated by scattered groups of people, lounging on or against overstuffed plush furniture. Being dragged by the elbow, Keith approached a rather large group of people, all male, all dressed in exotic garb, and all ideal specimens of their species. To a man, they were all lithe, sleek, thin or built, perfect bodies obviously meticulously groomed to beauty. "I told you all he'd show up! No one says no to Coreso. Everyone, this is Keith. Keith, this is everyone. Say hi." The fox smirked, and a little embarrased chuckle passed around the group they'd approached, some of them flagging ears in sympathy as Keith mumbled a flustered hello. A deep red colored drink was pressed into Keiths paw, and Coreso continued, "Now that he's here, a toast! First debut for Seven Star Studios! And may the rest of our releases gain such acclaim!" Glasses clinked around Keith, and bewildered, he followed suit. The group had just about every type of animal he could think of, broadly at least. Across from him, a well built canine stood, the glass dwarfed in his massive paws. Next to him, a vividly striped white tiger sat on a cushion. Flanked on either side of Keith, a stoat and a marten raised glasses above their heads, straining to reach others with their diminutive stature. Further pushing Keith into his embarrassed, antisocial shell, every one of these alabaster carved Adonis' smelled like they'd just exited the dance floor, the combined musk hitting his nose like a hammer. Surrounded by these males, Keith sat on a cushion and crossing his legs, trying to hide the bulge tenting his jeans. Sipping slowly at his glass, he sat by the edge of the crowd. Coreso had drifted back into his social group, leaving the shy cat on his own. The large group had a few smaller cliques, and none of them seemed to have any interest in including Keith. Just as his his embarrasment piqued, and he'd decided to abandon the night to another failed venture, a paw descended on his shoulder. "Hey, don't look so sour. Boss man really should have introduced you around." A tall buck hare, lithe and tan, sat next to him on the ottoman. He was wearing a long silk shirt and baggy khakis, the fabric smooth and a shimmering. "My names Zeke. I think Cor said your name was Keith, right?" "Yeah." Keith squeaked, trying to hide a sudden surge of agoraphobia. Clearing his throat in embarrasment, he elaborated, "Coreso and I go a ways back, but this is the first time I've seen him in months." "Great guy, our Cor. Runs a nice clean studio, and treats us right. You been in one of his shoots?" The hares ears were tall, twice again as long as his head, and standing erect on top of his head. "In his, oh, in one of his movies? No. I knew him before he had the studio set up, really. Hell, I helped him set it up. So if you're all on his payroll, I assume his movies are doing well?" Keith smiled faintly, answered in kind by the hare as the cat shuffled over, making room on the small cushion. "Doing well? You could say so. Last year's been all boom for us. Twenty-ish little films, and one full length one that just came out on dvd this morning." The hare boasted. He leaned in a little closer, shifting on the plush furniture, and Keith could smell slightly sharp cinnamon. "That's good to hear. That fox is a smart guy, glad that one of his plans finally paid off. So what type of films is he doing? He never showed me his scripts, always told me they weren't my type of work." Zeke answered with a blank stare, pausing for a moment before answering. "So you've never been on the set? I mean, not since we started shooting?" Keith shook his head silently. "Mmm, okay, I'd say they're basically romance dramas. Look, why don't you pop by the set sometime and see for yourself?" Keith smirked, taking a drink from his glass before responding, "Oh? So does that mean you're asking me out on a date?" The hare paused again, and Keith cursed himself. He'd thought it was awfully classy to say at the time. Why did he have to be so abrupt? Before Keith could apologize, though, the rabbit responded, "And if I am, would you show up?" Letting out a sigh of relief, Keith smiled. "I think I would." Zeke loosed a brilliant smile and nodded, ears bobbing. "It's a date then. So what'd you actually do to help the boss out? You don't seem like the rest of his friends." "Known him since he was a kit. I was basically his big brother straight through school. He had a rough time of it because of, well, he never really fit in." "Because he's gay." Ventured the hare. Keith gave a small nod. "Right. If it was here in the city, there wouldn't have been a problem, really, but we were upstate. Lots of religious people there, and it helped him having a friend three grades ahead of him to chase off the hounds." Zeke nodded. "And so you both moved here to get away from it?" "Well, he moved away from there, and I moved to here. I thought the busy area would help me with my art. So far, it's managed to keep me distracted so I couldn't see how little art I'm actually doing." "Heh, how well I know that feeling. I'm a writer myself, but I don't think I've put a word to paper other than my signature since I moved here. Been too busy out enjoying the city, you know?" Keith shrugged noncommitally. "I don't know how much enjoying of it I do. I don't really get out much. In fact, this is the first club I've been to in months." He carefully excluded that this was the first time he'd been out of the flat in weeks. He took another deep gulp from his glass, emptying it in one swift motion. The hare nodded, conversation derailed at the uncomfortable statement. They both gazed at the crowd, the silence between them growing longer by the second, until the hare jumped up, grin back and hand held out to Keith. "Come on, the club's got a nice retro floor on the second floor. Lets dance." "I don't really know..." "Pffft, don't give me that whole 'I don't know how to dance' spiel. I don't care. Take my hand, and we'll go bounce around like idiots to music too loud to hear." Forced against his will to smile, Keith took a leap of will, taking the hand and standing. The hare led the way to the door, small flag tail flicking and hips bouncing as he walked, as if he were already dancing. The dull roar of the music hit Keiths ears again as the door opened, and he followed the hare into the sensory overload of the club. *** *** *** *** *** Lights blared through his vision above him, and he opened his eyes, head feeling like his skull had shrunk two sizes. He groaned softly, and even though his ears were ringing, he could hear a slight gurgling in the background. Confused and disoriented, Keith opened his eyes. Above him, a plain white plaster ceiling hung, bright and sparse. He rolled a little, and realized he was laying on a couch. Comfortable and warm, he snuggled back into the blankets. He was basking in the glow of sunshine streaming through a long glass sliding door, curtains pulled back. Around him, he saw a small apartment, not too dissimilar to his own, though lacking the papers on the floor and empty canvas in the corner. Instead, a small, orderly desk stood with a laptop on it, cover closed. Along the wall shared by the desk, a low cabinet and kitchen worktop lay clean and organized. In the far corner, next to the tall refrigerator, a coffee maker chortled and stuttered. Keith could smell the coffee calling to him, but compared to the warm sun warming the blankets, he chose to close his eyes, purring very softly. "I should have figured getting a cat out of the sun spot would be impossible. If freshly brewed can't get you out of there, nothing will." He heard the lightly teasing voice behind him. Zeke. He vaguely remembered the hare's form skipping gracefully to some song he didn't recognize under strobe lights. "So, are you awake now? You've slept through almost the entire morning." Keith grunted and picked his head off of a couch cushion. The world swam momentarily, then solidified. Rationally, he figured he must be at Zeke's apartment. The place was clean and tidy where Keith's was cluttered and dirty. It was too comfortably arranged to call sparse, but there was more open space than furniture. In fact, as Keith looked around, he realized that there wasn't a bed. "Um, last night, did we..." "I slept on the floor. You weren't looking so hot when we stumbled in, so I figured you could use the sleep more than I." Zeke moved around to the front of the couch and smiled. "Isn't the warm sun a great way to wake up? May take a little longer to get out of bed, but makes the whole day a little warmer, I think." Zeke sat at the foot of the couch, and Keith pulled his legs up to make room. He pulled the covers back, then realizing that he wasn't wearing anything, he covered himself again to the neck, ears laying back in embarrasment. "Um, my clothes..." "Near your head on the floor. Reach over the arm rest." Zeke smiled warmly at him, then as the leopard looked up at him, still hudling under the blankets, laughed, threw up his hands, and stood. The hare turned away, busying himself with the coffee while Keith snuck an arm out, grabbing his clothes and dragging them under the blanket where he dressed himself quickly. "You'd think with how you were dancing last night, you wouldn't be quite so squeamish about me seeing you naked." Zeke stated, coming back to Keith and offering him a mug full of steaming coffee. "Um, what do you mean? I admit, I really can't remember it that much. After we hit the dance floor, it gets sorta blurry." "I told you that you should eat something if you were going to keep drinking. Ah, well, at least I remember it. Let's just say that you tore up the dance floor, and you couldn't keep your paws or your tail to yourself." Zeke smiled, ears back along his head and neck and sipping slowly at the coffee. "Ahem. I'm sorry, I guess I had just a few too many, and..." Zeke interrupted him again, "No, don't worry. I had a blast. I just wish you could remember it too. You were smiling the whole time, and you looked like it was the first time you'd enjoyed yourself in a while." He took another sip, then stood again, offering a paw to the leopard and smiling. "I've got some business to take care of, kitty, and I need to get going. I hate to rush your morning coffee, but it's getting late." Caught preparing to apologize again, Keith instead lifted the cup to his muzzle and downed the hot liquid, squelching the urge to fan his mouth. He nodded and stood, smiling widely to the hare. As they left the apartment, Zeke called over his shoulder. "So, do you remember that you're supposed to be meeting me tonight at the studio?" Thinking back, Keith thought he could remember that part. "I hope you'll be there. I know Coreso would love to show you around. I'm in the shoot tonight, so you can watch if you want." The trip back to his apartment was quick. The hare's apartment was only two blocks away from the club on ash, and Keith's apartment was only another three blocks further. Arriving home and shutting the door behind him, the clouded leopard sat on his bed, and for the first time in a month or more, graced his dirty apartment with a smile. He couldn't even remember why he should be smiling, really, but he felt up-beat as he picked up his sketch pad again. Another image had joined the flock circling his consciousness, and out of a whim, he figured he'd jot it down. Lines and curves touched the paper, filling the blankness and bringing it life as none of his recent sketches had. As the sun light made the circuit across his apartment floor, he scribbled and frowned, erased and redrew. The sun had just hit the top of the low-rise opposite his apartment, sinking down below the artificial horizon, when Keith stopped. Half laying and half crouched on the sketch pad, a hare smirked back at him, ears tall and alert. The cat smiled, tossing the sketch pad on his bedside table and shaking his head. Maybe it was a fancy, but it was a rewarding one at that. The picture had merit. He snuck to the bathroom, combing through his fur to banish the after-effects of the party the previous night. Deciding that a shower would take too long to dry from, he sprayed himself with jasmine-based deodorant and found another cleanish shirt. Looking at himself in the mirror again, he grinned, showing long predatory fangs and perk ears. For the first time in a while, he was actually looking forward to the night, and he couldn't stop smirking when he thought about it. *** *** *** *** *** Coreso's studio was in an old warehouse on the edge of the theatre district. From the outside, it didn't really look any different than the other warehouses around it, except that there were cars out front, and there was light coming from inside. In the dim edge between dusk and night, Keith knocked on the door emblazoned with the sigil for Seven Star Studios. He opened the door, stepping into a well light foyer, where a studious and bespectacled little mole greeted him. "Keith, is it?" Keith smiled and nodded. "Coreso said we'd be showing you around tonight. Sorry, they're all getting ready for a shoot, so I'll have to start your tour. Come on back, and I'll introduce you." The mole trundled through another door, waving the cat on and continuing his monologue. "I heard you were here to help set it up, right? It's grown a lot since then. You must have built the skylight set. That's what we're calling that particular room, since the lighting only works from above. If we need to get shots from other angles, we use other rooms now, but the oldies are the goodies..." The mole trailed off into the history of sets, all secured on rolling wheels and lined one after another against the wall of the warehouse floor. Keith could only see about half of the warehouse from where he stood, it looks like the back half of the open area had been walled oof, probably for changing rooms, makeup, or whatever else the place needed to run right. In front of him, a set that looked like a living room stood, lit brightly under a row of bulky stage lights. A few more lights stood on the sides of the set, throwing light up from ground level and banishing any shadows the glaring light from above created. Sitting in a characteristic director's chair and chatting with one of the grips sat a familiar red form. "Cor! Wow! Look at this place!" Keith called, rushing to the fox's side. "There we are, big brother! Sorry I didn't have much time for you last night, had the whole crew there and all." Coreso smiled and threw his arms around the cat, hugging him tightly before gesturing to a chair next to his own. "Sit down! Got a treat tonight, Zeke and Charlie've got the best scene of our next featurette to shoot." On queue, Zeke appeared from a door in the wall across the warehouse ("Studio" Keith reminded himself. "It's a studio now".) He smiled widely, waving to Keith and bouncing a bit as he walked towards the stage. The hare was in a fur-tight latex suit, and Keith admired how the hare's muscles shined and glinted in the bright set lights. Behind him, a large canine in faded jeans and a baggy shirt followed onto the set. The dog was obviously a mutt, though Keith was sure there must have been husky somewhere in his line, and perhaps malamute as well. Coreso flagged down one of the weasels standing to the side and touched yelled something that Keith only half heard. The weasel hopped up onto the set and pulled out a case and comb from his belt. Walking up to the huskie hybrid, the weasel pulled the dog down so he could swipe at the dog's head fur, chasing down a vagrant curl. Finally satisfied, the weasel smeared a little gel into the fur, and then combed it over one last time. Now ready, another stage hand (An otter) walked onto the stage, holding a plackard. On it was written, "Neighborhood Affairs." He walked held it in facing the camera. The otter chirped up, stating, "Reggie, your editing sucks and your mother's a whore." He clacked the clapper board once and walked off of the set. Keith sat back, amused and smiling as Zeke and his fellow actor dropped into character. "Andy, did you bring what I asked?" Keith figured Andy must be the canine's characer's name. "I did, and my wife's still fast asleep. She doesn't know." The dog took a small bundle from his jeans pocket and tossed it to the hare. "You made me a promise, Jon. You won't tell anyone about this, right?" Zeke smiled, answering to the name Jon, "Not a word. Now on your knees." The canine smiled and knelt, panting softly and laying his ears submissively back along his head. Keith's smirk turned into a confused frown, then let out a small gasp. On the set, Zeke had walked towards the kneeling canine and pushed his latex clad crotch into andy, the husky's, muzzle, a visible bulge forming underneath the rubber. Andy growled playfully and licked at the suit, leaving a wet and gleaming trail behind his tongue. Reaching where Zeke's navel would be, he bit at the latex, and caught a small zipper with his teeth. Tugging, the suit slowly split, the hole revealing creamy tan fur a tantilizing inch at a time as the dog tugged. For his own part, Zeke smiled and held his arms above his head, gazing down at the canine with a superior smirk, rotating his hips in a slow rhythm. Keith sat stunned, mouth slightly open and ears back. His tail bottled out and he sat motionless, watching the spectacle before him. With a final tug, Zeke's half-hard shaft popped from the widening split in the latex, falling lengthwise along the canine's muzzle. Letting the zipper fall away, Andy slowly pulled his muzzle back, tongue flicking out and catching the cock with furtive licks and smiling widely. Paws reached out and gripped the hare's rubber clad rump and kneaded as he started to play with the head of Zeke's shaft. Just as Andy opened his muzzle and suckled Zeke's dripping shaft into the wet mouth, Keith stood and stalked towards the exit. No one followed, too intent on the shoot to make the time. The leopard burst through the doors and stood outside the studio, catching his breath in the rather chilly night air. He leaned back against the wall of the warehouse and panted, mind whizzing a mile a minute. This is what his work years ago had made? They were shooting smut at the studio he helped found? Angry at Coreso for not telling him, and angry at Zeke for assuming he'd be okay with it, Keith pushed off of the wall and started stalking away towards his apartment. "Waitasec! Keith!" The door behind him slammed open, and he heard Zeke pounding after him. "Keith! Where are you going?" Keith spun on his heel, growling at Zeke. "Away. I can't watch that." "And why not? Given how you were pawing me up last night, you're not getting away with telling me that." "How I was... What? No, I just can't sit through that! It's just smut! I can't believe that's what he's using the studio for. Hell, I can't believe that's what you're doing here!" Keith sputtered, then ground to a halt, glancing down at Zeke and putting his ears back, muzzle open in a whining gasp. "Can't believe? What can't you believe? It pays the bills, and I'm good at it." Zeke frowned, then followed the leopard's glance. Gulping, the hare glanced around, then slowly zipped the fly of his latex suit, his still dripping sheath disappearing from view. Keith's muzzle shut with an audiable clack, the silence stretching from seconds into a minute, then into an immeasurable gap of communication. Zeke opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, eyes dropping from the leopard in embarrasment. Then his eyes were drawn back up by a slight chuff from Keith. As the hare watched, the leopard's aghast gape split into a grin, then broke as Keith let out a laugh loud enough to echo off of the flat walls of the studio. "Oh, god, you just came out chasing after me still flapping in the breeze... What if someone was watching!" Keith's laugh descended into undignified giggles. Zeke tried to stay serious, but eventually failed, first flashing a smile, then giggling along with the leopard. "We don't usually have to rush outside in the middle of a shoot." Zeke tried to defend himself, a smile still staining his face. Keith slowly controlled his humor and crouched, sitting on his haunches as he sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me? I mean, damn, don't you think the fact that you were a porn actor would be important?" "Important how? I mean, how is it different from serving burgers, except that it pays better and I actually enjoy it?" Zeke shot back, still standing and facing the cat with hands on hips. "You enjoy it? It's so sleazy and dirty." "I enjoy the hell out of it. You telling me that you don't enjoy sex? If so, you don't do it right. And dirty? How do you figure? I happen to know all of our other actors personally, and they're all clean." "That's not how I mean it. Look, your going to be on people's computers at home while they're... All those people looking at you like just a piece of flesh, like a sex toy. Just makes me feel dirty, and I'm not even the one in it!" "Oh, you're not, are you? You paint art that rich ass holes will buy to hang on their wall and show off to other rich ass holes to show how cultured they are. Then they'll parade shallow floozies in front of it in an attempt to make themselves look suave and emotional." Zeke had fired himself back up to his previous indignation, ears pert and standing on top of his round head. "No! I mean, that's not why I paint. When I paint I'm creating something, something new and bold, something that's never been put on canvas before." "oh, so you're allowed your art form, but hell with anyone elses? Don't look down at me from your high and mighty moral bastion, kitty. I do what I enjoy, and I bring it to an art form." Keith snorted. "An art form? So now you're comparing my painting to sex in front of a camera?" "And why not? Do you think so little of me, of people like me, that you reduce what we live for to a dirty act? I expected more from you." "Expected it from me? Why? You don't even know me." "But I'd like to." The hare crouched next to Keith and put a hand on the leopard's chest. "You're a nice guy, Keith. I know you don't remember alot of it, but we talked alot last night. I want to get to know you better, but I can't do that if you won't accept what I do." "Zeke, look, I'm in no position to ask you to stop, but I just can't see what you do as art." "So let me show you." Zeke leaned in, and Keith could smell the cinnamon again, stronger this time. He could feel a slight static pull, his fur standing on end as the hare approached. Under the pale glare of the studio's street lights, Keith froze, twitching tail still and ears folded back. Zeke's latex suit squeaked softly as he leaned in on his hands and touched his lips softly to Keith's, breathing over the leopard's muzzle softly. Keith's senses reeled, and just the touch of the hare's lips burned on his, leaving a tingling feeling where his breath touched. The leopard leaned in slowly, uncertain and scared, as his lips met the hare's in a slow, langorous kiss. "No. I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't." Keith jumped to his feet. Turning before Zeke could see him shaking all over, he ran off, claws scrabbling on the loose scree over pavement. "Keith! Keith, please! Just stop!" Zeke's voice faded into the blur of the nighttime city. A horn blatted in the distance, and Keith's feet found their way to his flat. By the time he reached the front door of his building, the breath was catching in his chest, and he bent, panting loudly. He was still shivering, even though the night wasn't particularly chilly. His fur was still standing on end, and the place where Zeke's lips had touched felt raw. He tugged at the door and ran upstair, fumbling the keys into his lock and thrusting his door open. He'd almost made it into his room before he began to break down, crying in shock and frustration. He slammed the door shut behind him and leaned back against it as he slid to the paper-strewn ground. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." He chanted to himself, cradling his head in his hands. Why couldn't he do this? What scared him so much? He fought at the walls of his self-imposed prison. It didn't matter that much to him, did it? Sobbing and coughing, he curled up, the paper crinkling below him. As his stunned brain tried to think through the foggy haze of frustration, he slowly fell asleep on a bed of his previous failed creations. *** *** *** *** *** For the second morning in a row, Keith was woken by the sun. Sunlight streamed through his window and bathed him in warmth. He slowly uncurled his aching muscles, sore from a night on the hardwood floor with no more padding than a few sheets of paper. Rubbing his eyes and stretching, he stood. Trundling over to his bed, he groaned, collapsing on the springy mattress. Happier now to be on softer material than the floor, he picked up a sharp wedge from under his back, intending to fall back asleep. Under the blankets, he pulled something rectangular and hard from beneath his rump and glanced at it. Staring back at him from his sketch pad, the Zeke look-alike posed provocatively. Keith didn't remember having drawn the rabbit in such a suggestive manner. Maybe it was his desire guiding his pencil at the time. Then, the previous night's debacle came back to him, and finally he started to see the picture in a new light. Instead of nodding off, he sat up, holding the picture of Zeke like an anchor, gazing at it intently as his brain finally resumed its normal quick pace. And finally, like his normal, rational self, it started to plan. He dropped the pad on the bedside table and stood, brushing some of the papers off of the desk and finding his phone. Pulling a card out of his wallet, he dialed quickly, tapping his fingers against the wood of his desk chair in impatience, now that he knew what he needed to do. The stately ring of the phone dragged from tone to tone, and Keith started to despair, seeing his idea unravel before it even started. Just as Keith was about to put the receiver back into the cradle, he heard a fumbling click on the other side of the line and a groggy grunt. "Yeah?" "Zeke, it's me." "Keith? God, are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm sorry about last night." "No, I'm sorry. You showed me how nervous you were about sex, and then I go off and rush things. Look, if you don't want to..." Zeke sounded sincerely woried as he trailed off. "Hey, could you come over?" Keith crossed his fingers, holding his breath. The other side of the line went silent for a moment. "Yeah. Um, should I bring anything?" "No, just you. Go up Ash from the club where we met, turn right on Saints, and I'm the second building on the left, Saints Arms Apts. Room 207. See you in 20?" "Okay." Zeke sounded confused. Keith could picture him on the other side of the phone, ears flopped and eyes squinted just a little as he thought it over. He heard a click from the other side as Zeke put the phone down, and Keith hugged the receiver to his chest, smile returned to his lips. The next moment, the phone was back in its tray, and Keith was off like a shot, papers in hand. He had 20 minutes to prepare, and he wasn't sure it'd be long enough. First, to get the place looking decent again. He started sweeping papers from his floor, filling his bin swiftly. As he picked them up, he resisted looking at them, finding any reason not to throw them away. He knew that they weren't good enough, or he wouldn't have tossed them in the first place. They didn't have the life he needed. He wanted his pieces to bring the viewer to a new experience. His viewers should laugh at the humor, or be crying at the sorrow and loss. For all his artistic skill the pictures in his hand had just enough emotional content to evoke a feeling of apathy. Tossing all of the failed pictures in his bin, he cleared his room, and in under ten minutes, it was clear of papers. He pulled his old art case from under his desk and carefully took a small collection of pencils and implements from the bag, placing them on his desk. He'd just been using a little mechanical pencil for all of his recent sketches, but he had the feeling that today he'd need a wider variety. Ducking into the bathroom quickly, he pulled his clothes straight in the mirror and brushed his fur straight. As he pulled the soft wire brush between his ears, he heard a knock. Dashing from the bathroom to answer the door, he found Zeke standing in the hallway outside, fiddling his hands uncertainly. "Hi." The hare, uncommonly nervous, smiled at Keith. "Hi." Keith stood, uncertain for a moment, then steeling his nerves, he stood aside, letting Zeke enter. "Hey, I really am sorry about last night. It's not my place to belittle what you do. I was wrong." "Tough to say you're wrong, isn't it? I was wrong too. I enjoy what I do, but I thought about it. Even the best piece we could do won't be the next Mona Lisa." Zeke smiled a little. "That's where you're wrong. I've had a whole day to think about it, and you were right. It was right under my nose, and I couldn't figure it out. So I want to prove it to you." "Isn't that how our conversation last night ended?" Zeke's smile widened, and he gave a little wink. "It is, but I think you're a little braver than I was. Zeke, can I paint you? I mean, in a picture? I didn't mean I'd actually..." "Yes, I'd love to pose for you, if that's what you mean?" "Yeah." Zeke smiled and hung a light, stylish spring jacket on the coat hook on the inside of Keith's door. "So what kind of pose would you like? I've never done this before, so you'll have to show me what you want." "Well, to start, just sit on the seat, there? Oh, I hope you're not busy with anything else, today? If you don't mind, I'm in a bit of an artistic mood." Zeke sat on the chair, ears alert and hands between his legs on the edge of the seat. He leaned forward slightly, whiskers twitching. "Naw, I'm good for the day. I called Coreso on the way over, he knows I won't be in tonight." Keith smirked and put his sketch pad in his lap and grabbed a blue artists pencil. "Somehow figured you'd be otherwise occupied tonight?" Keith put pencil to the paper and began tracing general outlines, glancing up often to get the proportions right in broad strokes. "Let's just say I deserved a day off, and no better way to spend it than with a gorgeous cat." Keith put his ears down in embarrasment, but kept his pencil moving. The form of the sketch was starting to stand out, and Keith moved on to the fabric of Zeke's shirt and slacks, careful to sketch down the play of the folds of fabric, where it scrunched around the back of the knees, and how little of the hare's shirt he could see with the arms reaching across the front. Content, Keith flipped the page, another blank sheet gazing back up at him. "Okay, move a bit, give me another good pose." "Like what?" "Um, how about standing behind the chair and leaning on the seat back?" Zeke stood obediently and circled the chair, leaning on its back. He crossed his legs and bent at the middle a bit, tail up and rump pushed out. He smirked at Keith whiskers still twitching to the sides of a rather sardonic grin. "Keep it, just like that." Keith's pencil scratched across the paper quickly. He was thankful that he'd spent so much time working on his speed sketching technique back in art school. In half a minute, he had the proportions right to his liking, and in another half a minute, he'd sketched the fabric right, and was working on facial features. Along the side of his paper, he sketched Zeke's face in detail. The long lapine ears were more than twice the height of the head itself, long and ovular. They sprouted from the top of Zeke's round head. The hare's face was lean, soft fur covering angular features. His muzzle was long, and the edges of his mouth turned up just slightly, giving him the look of smiling all the time. The hare's whiskers were long and always in motion, tugged by a small nose capping off the muzzle. At the center of it all, the hare's eyes were large and blue, the sort of deep watery blue that made you think you were looking into a deep, clear lake. Resisting the urge to wax poetic, Keith smiled and flipped the page again. Zeke shook his hands, stretching as he got ready for another pose. "This time, would you mind unbuttoning your shirt?" Zeke nodded and leaned his side against the chair, fingers fumbling at the shirt's buttons. The shirt hung open as he worked, and as he reached the last button, Keith held out his hand. "Stop, just there. Stay just like that." At this point, the light streaming through the window had illuminated Zeke, shining through the thin fabric and making the milky chest fur shine like an aura around the hare. Smirking again, Zeke stopped, shirt hanging open across his chest and hips leaning against the desk chair. Keith's pencil flashed again. With intense care, he focused on the hare's chest muscles, tracing the fur folding over the faint definition down across Zeke's stomach. The fur was a very light tan, creamy in tone and so soft that it was tough to tell one hair from the next. "Okay, you can finish taking it off." Keith continued, flipping the page and huffing softly in anticipation. "Give me a pose, one leg up on the chair, would you?" Zeke lifted his leg, jean straining as he leaned forward on the seat, the denim hugging tightly to his legs, rump and crotch. He threw the shirt onto the desk, baring broad expanse of chest and stomach and naked from the waist up. Licking his lips, Keith gave the picture general proportions and positioning. Then, counting on his previous detail on the hare's chest and face, moved on to the denim clad legs and hips. Zeke gave him a rather cryptic look as the leopard focused on the hare's crotch with his eyes. The pencil worked in slow, meaningful strokes as Keith mapped out the play of fabric over the shapely hare rump, then drawing depth into the sizable bulge pushing against the taut fabric. It was tough to tell through the denim, but Keith used the faint hints of definition to make more obvious depth in his drawing, shading in around a sizable sac pressed up by the crotch of the jeans, to the plump tube of the hare's sheath straining towards the waistline. Zeke's leg twitched, and Keith finished his sketch quickly so the hare could stretch. As Zeke kicked out his leg, walking in little circles to wake sleeping muscles, Keith steeled himself for his next request. "Think you could unbutton your jeans, show a little underwear?" Keith almost squeaked, nerves getting the better of him for a moment. "Keith, you sure?" Zeke looked at him curiously. "Don't push yourself just because you feel you need to apologize." Keith raised his hands, pencil dangling from his fingers. "I'm doing this because I was wrong. Sex IS art, and I'm fooling myself if I think otherwise. More, at this point in time, I can't think of anything more artful than you." Zeke stood, stunned at the statement, then gulped and nodded. "Thank you. No one's ever given me a compliment like that." "You deserve it though. My art's been stale for years. I've been trying so hard to avoid anything even suggestive that the stuff I've done just lacks passion. And you are that, Zeke. You've got passion. You must hear this alot, but you really are sexy. Not in a dirty way. You're just gorgeous." "I..." Zeke smiled mischeviously and dropped a paw to his waist. Smirking to cover his embarrasment, he flicked a finger across the button on his jeans. "There's another reason I was asking if you were sure. I'm not wearing any underpants." Zeke tugged at the zipper, and the tight denim peeled aside, the top half of the lapine sheath that Keith had seen last night throbbing a little in the sunlight. "Stop right there. That's the next piece." Keith returned his hands to the pad, sketching faster and more accurately than he'd done in years. On paper, he mimicked the sight of Zeke's fat sheath glowing in the sunlight. His sheath shared the same creamy fur. The bright fur contrasted starkly with the black jeans, pushing against the sides of the zipper and shifting moment to moment as he drew. Under the careful gaze of the leopard's eyes, the thick pink head peeked into view, and Keith couldn't restrain himself. He drew the thick domed tip at the tip of Zeke's sheath, putting a prismatic bead of pre dribbling from the slit and reflecting sunlight. As soon as Keith flipped the page again, Zeke moved without direction, flipping himself over the chair and pulling the back of his jeans down a bit as well, showing off the dark tan cheeks of his rump in profile. His tail wiggled and twitched upwards as he looked towards Keith, pants gathered around his hips and long legs stretched out to their full. Keith's pencil flew, almost independant of his eyes. His tongue flopped from his muzzle as he drew, getting an intense look of concentration as he scratched and corrected, erased and then continued. With another flip, Zeke moved again, tugging the pants to his ankles and sitting on the chair, legs tangled in the jeans and knees spread. He reached down with one paw and squeezed at his sheath, the pink length of his shaft rising into sight. Keith groaned under his breath and adjusted, drawing pad covering a bulge in his own sheath. He leaned forward a bit, holding the pad close as he sketched the crotch into Zeke's new position, pencil lining out the smooth lines of the long lapine cock. While he'd seen it last night, the new perspective gave him the chance to really explore it with his eyes. Zeke's cock was thick, and it twisted very slightly clockwise. Keith judged that it wasn't quite as long as his own, but was almost twice as wide. The large drop of pre fell from the tip, dropping onto the chair, and another formed quickly. Zeke squeezed his sheath again, and the entire cock throbbed powerfully. Keith finished his sketch, and as he turned the page, he unbuttoned his own pants, huffing under his breath as his clothes began to feel all too constraining. Zeke watched him closely and licked his lips, black nose twitching. He stood again and spun, and Keith was granted another view of the hare's shapely ass. Zeke bent over the chair, putting one leg upon on the seat and pushing his sheath down with one paw, pointing the now pulsing shaft away from him. He looked back over his shoulder at Keith, still licking his lips. Catching the proportions and the position, his attention was caught by a cough. Keith stopped and looked up, pencil poised over the page. "Hey kitty, how's your art coming?" "I can't believe I've done this many sketches so far. This pose is perfect the end the series on." "Sure you can't include one more, just for me?" Zeke perked his ears, inquiring over his shoulder. "What did you have in mind?" "Come join me and I'll show you." Keith stopped, then smiled. He put the pencil and pad to the side carefully, then pushed himself up off the bed. His jeans hugged him painfully, so he pulled them down, his own underwear straining over his sheath, and his own shaft rising from the waistband and laying hugged tight against his belly fur. Nervous again, he reached out a paw, touching Zeke's rump and rubbing slowly, marveling at the touch of smooth, soft fur against his fingers. Zeke lifted his hips a little bit, tilting it up as Keith's fingers dragged down the cleft between the round, bubble-like cheeks. "Enough teasing, kitty, please, let's make this last picture together." Keith nodded and Zeke hugged the chair frame, laying his ears back along his neck and down his back. The leopard advanced on the upturned rump, running his straining shaft between the thinly furred cheeks. He tugged his underwear down just under his sac and tugged at Zeke's tail. Zeke grunted a little and ground his rump back against the cat's tapered cock. Keith pulled back and used a paw to push his cock down to the hare's winking pucker. As he slowly pushed himself forward, Zeke pushed himself backwards, meeting the leopard's first long thrust into the hare's hot insides. Keith sighed. It was better than he'd imagined. Much better. With the first touch of cocktip to pucker, he could feel the heat of the rabbit tingling his flesh. with the first push, he watched as the flesh dimpled inwards, then with a slight popping sensation, the flesh gave way beneath his straining shaft and the slightly stubbly friction of the hare's fur gave way to smooth, velvetty caresses along his shaft as he slowly sunk deeper into the tight ass. He'd imagined what it might feel like all during the drawing session, but he didn't need to imagine anymore. Now, he pushed himself deeper, and as he sunk deeper, the velvetty walls clenched around him a long wave of pressure, giving friction and heat and wetness and excitement. After a thrust that seemed to last forever, he finally sank himself to the hilt, rubbing his sheath against the hare's stretched tailhole. He dropped his paws to the spread cheeks and massaged them. Each motion caused the hare's insides to move and writhe against him. Zeke sighed in unabashed ecstasy. One of the hare's paws dropped to his own cock, starting to stroke it slowly. Keith pulled his hips back slowly, watching with rapt attention as his shaft slipped free of the wet embrace. Zeke's flesh tugged at him as he tugged himself backwards, slipping slickly against him as he pulled all but the very tip of his shaft into sight. He stopped for a moment, his artist's eye admiring the view of his own straining and throbbing flesh sitting so close to the wet furnace of Zeke's insides. After a few seconds, Zeke huffed under his breath and pushed back, and Keith was treated to the view of his shaft slipping back into the tight pucker, inch at a time, until nothing remained outside except his bunched and wrinkled sheath. Keith started to hump slowly, pulling himself halfway free, then smoothly sliding back deep with a gentle rolling of his hips. As he moved, he tugged his own shirt over his head, baring his chest as he thrust and ground against the needy hare. Zeke's tail twitched and flicked as Keith started his plunge. Each push was met by a return push of Zeke's hips, grinding against his crotch on each inward thrust. Zeke looked back over his shoulder and smiled widely at the feline. His eyes were half-closed in pleasure, whiskers flicking. Keith leaned down over the hare, dropping his shirt to the side and hugging himself to the hare's back tightly. He caught one of the long ears with his muzzle and started to lick along its length. As Keith's abrasive tongue touched the ear, Zeke's hips slammed back into his, and he heard a stifled gasp. Strong muscles clamped around his cock, holding him deep as he licked the ear from the base of the head towards its tip. The hare growled, and as the tongue started to move, Zeke's own hips started to thrust back against Keith quickly. Keith's paws found the ears and squeezed through the thick membranes, rubbing them lengthwise and matching the quick thrusts. The rubbing of Zeke's insides were driving him wild with lust, the smooth gliding sensation making him growl in pleasure. All of a sudden, the hare jerked, and the tight pucker squeezed hard around Keith's shaft. Caught halfway through a stroke, the feline thrust inwards and hilted himself. Zeke's muscles squeezed and throbbed, and tight waves of pressure surrounded the feline's shaft. The slick pressure drove Keith to the edge of orgasm, keeping him teetering on the plateau. Letting out a long, low moan, Zeke reached a paw back, and Keith felt the wet slickness of cum-coated fingers squeezing at his sheath. The hips started to wriggle again, and the tight tailhole he was embedded in glided across his cock. Keith growled and bit at Zeke's ears, catching them and holding them prisoner as his shaft throbbed and jumped. Giving in to a whole-body shiver, Keith roared around the captive ears and spasmed, the tight ass pulling him into an explosive orgasm. The cat's tail flicked to and fro as he shivered, holding himself tight to the bent form of the hare. Liquid seeped down from the seal around his shaft, dribbling onto his sheath. Zeke slowly rubbed Keith's sac, cum-stained fingers squeezing at the sensitive balls within. Time that had slowed to a crawl as he thrust into Zeke's heavenly rump caught back up to its stately stroll, and Keith released the ears. Zeke winced, then pulled them forward, massaging where the sharp feline teeth had bruised his sensitive ears. Wincing himself as he stretched cramped muscles, Keith stood straight behind the hare, gazing back down at the colorful junction where his own shaft still throbbed inside the hare. He pulled, and was surprised at the slick feel of his own cum lubricating the tailhole, and decided to hold himself hilted. "You going to let me go, Keith?" Zeke stood, though didn't move away or lift himself off of the cat's cock. "Actually, I think my series has room for a few more pieces. Think you're up to posing for a few more?" Zeke laughed and pulled away. Keith shivered as his shaft slid free slickly, dripping liquid and cold in the air. The hare turned and pushed Keith back towards the bed, then pounced on top of the cat. "I'm a hare. Trust me, we'll be making art all night!" Keith settled back onto the bed and gasped as the tight tailhole settled around his cock, Zeke straddling his lap and nibbling with sharp incisors at his neck. Something sharp poked at his back, and he fidgeted. Zeke gasped as Keith's hips struggled, pushing the feline cock deep into him, then helped Keith roll. Grabbing underneath him, Keith found his sketchpad and smiled. He pushed at Keith, lifting the hare halfway off of his still dripping shaft and grinned mischeviously. "Stay right there." And the pencil traced over paper, capturing their passion. *** *** *** *** *** Keith had to admit that Zeke looked rather elegant in a suit and tie, though it was definitely a bit of a shock to see him out of the characteristic jeans. Even more of a shock, though, was knowing that the hare standing by his side was the same one decorating the gallery in various stages of undress, arousal, and sex. In five minutes, the doors would be opening, and stuffy old men with art review magazines tucked under their arms would be coming to critically view the results of Keith's lust. In a long streak across the premier wall of his show, Zeke stood against a vibrant red background, teasing the viewer frame-to-frame as he slowly removed his garments. In the last picture on this wall, he stood back to the view and bent over the chair, gloriously naked and aroused for the world to see. Zeke on his arm, Keith walked down the line of pictures, musing to his partner. "So is this art, or pornography?" "Can it be both, kitty? Damn, look at this one. I swear, it looks like a photograph. I can't believe this is painted." "Well, I did have alot of reference to work from." Keith smirked. "And alot of hands on experience." "Did the art director complain much when you told him the show could only be open to a mature crowd?" Keith shook his head. "Not much of his clientelle has families anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. Anyway, after he viewed a few of them, he told me this show would be enough of a hit that he wouldn't lose any sleep over it." They turned the corner as they passed the last picture of Zeke alone. Along the next wall, a certain clouded leopard had joined the figure, and the two writhed in explicit passion. "I still have trouble seeing this as anything but narcisitic smut." "In the end, is it even your choice what it's called?" Zeke smiled and tugged the feline past the picture he'd sketched with Keith straddled his hips, the feline's shaft spreading the hare's tailhole wide. "There's a tougher question, and it's one you asked me before. These pieces are going to hang on someone's wall, and your image is going to be their personal fantasy. How did you put it? How can you stand being seen as their sex toy?" Zeke teased Keith. "I've come a long way in a month, Zeke. Look at this." They stood in front of another piece, and this time, Keith was bent over the same chair, and Zeke had a long paw up on the cat's back while he took the feline from behind. "There's passion. There's lust. There's all the emotion I wanted my art to have. If this is their fantasy, then I've succeded." "If that's what you wanted, Kitty, then you've already succeded. I may be no art critic, but trust me, no man could view these without feeling your passion." "And it's all thanks to you, my muse." Zeke gave a low, mocking bow. "I live to inspire. Now, we have crotchety old men to sell pornography to. After you, kitty!" _________________________________________________________________ (Fin! All characters in this story are copyright J. Fox Rosenberg and any other resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.) Send Kandrel mail! fox at foxyonline dot com Comments and suggestions are welcome, flames can go to hell!