FSE

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Hello everyone! Sorry for taking so long to get this out. Hopefully Chapter 4 won\'t take so long to write. Thank you for all your support!

Disclaimer: All characters are (c) Roxanna Foxfire, with exception to Ezra, who is (c) his player.

Warnings: Nothing too wild in this chapter, but if you are under the age of 18, turn back now. That is all.

Now, Enjoy!

Slowhand

Chapter 3: Hiding Much Too Long

“This is Layla.”

Ezra almost dropped his phone. And then he almost knocked over the little old lady in front of him with her walker. He apologized and regrouped, walking the fine line of trying not to sound too enthusiastic, or sound too apathetic. “Hi there, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“I know, right? I was just getting off work and I thought I’d call…you know, since, calling is kind of important?”

Ezra nodded, remarking, “Yeah, yeah I’d think that would help.” He grinned. Her voice sounded lovely, soft but not girly, feminine with an undertone of strength and ambition, tempered with a sweetness he couldn’t quite describe. Then he looked down at his lunch bag from earlier and it came to him: a Clementine. Her voice was like a Clementine orange—sweet, but had a nice little tartness to it. Sweet yet tangy…

“Oh, damn,” Layla cursed. “My train’s moving again. Can I call you back?”

Ezra inwardly cursed as well; he liked hearing her voice, “Sure that’s fine.”

“Awesome. Talk to you in a bit!” She sounded genuinely excited.

When she hung up, Ezra made a whoop and made it to his car, cranking up the music in celebration. Now that he knew her number, he could call her back once he was sure she was home.

Layla was just as excited. Her mind wandered as the subway ran through the dark tunnels, and she smiled; she was finally able to put a voice to a face. Ezra’s voice, she found herself nearly quivering as she thought of it, was deep and masculine, and very sexy. Despite the trepidation she had of him being like other big predators, she detected gentleness and kindness in his voice—this one’s Mama raised him well.

Ezra made it home and showered before fixing up some dinner for himself: fried catfish and some instant miso soup, with a serving of tofu on the side. People found it odd that he was a vegetarian. Other tigers refused to associate with him, not that it bothered him. In his opinion, other tigers were too wrapped up in themselves to care about anything else.

The white tiger sat back and ate while watching the news, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of celebrities who somehow made it to the mainstream news station, to the ridiculous bills trying to be passed in Congress. He wondered how Layla felt about all the politics going on around her; he guaranteed a life up there was never boring. Not like down here.

His phone went off again, the phone vibrating against the coffee table. He set down his cup of soup and checked the caller ID.

It was Layla.

“Hello again,” he said kindly enough.

“Hello Ezra, I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner.”

He looked down at his empty plates. “Oh no, I just finished. Yourself?”

“Just finished as well. My roommate’s out, so it’s just little old me.”

“You sound lonely.”

“It helps to be talking to you,” she said. That warmed his heart. He smiled and replied, “That has to be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

“Well its true,” she said, pausing. Ezra hated lulls in conversation, and this one seemed pretty awkward.

“Well, um…” he started.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I should be more talkactive. I’m just so used to talking to you online, its very…different.”

“Different in a good way, I hope?”

“Well, yes. I mean, you have a great voice.”

Ezra blushed beneath the white fur. “Aww, shucks…” he mentally kicked himself. Aww shucks?!

Layla laughed, “God, I didn’t think anyone said that!”

“Um, most people don’t. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Sure it was,” she teased. There was a pause on her end, and Ezra knew it was probably that she didn’t know what all to say. He cleared his throat and decided to get the conversation going again.

“Its nice to finally be able to talk to you, you know,” he said. “And if its not too bold of me to say, you’ve got a lovely voice.”

On the other end, it sounded like she was genuinely flattered. “You’re too kind…and its very sweet of you to say. I’ve never gotten a compliment like that before.”

“That’s a shame—someone should have said it by now. Have people at least called you beautiful?”

Layla responded half-heartedly, “Old boyfriends, nothing special though. They’d say it, then want sex.”

“Ah, regular Casanovas.”

“More like Casa-no-duh’s,” she laughed bitterly. “But that’s all in the past. I want to move on.”

Ezra wondered if she meant to say “with you,” because there was another obvious pause on her end. She quickly picked up though. “Besides, you’re probably feeling the same way, right?”

Ezra swallowed hard, not wanting to seem overeager. “Well, I guess so. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t tried dating around here. But it’s mostly right-wing psychos and wannabe cowgirls.”

“You won’t get that from me,” she affirmed. “I have no problem telling you that I’m moderate in my beliefs, I knit and crochet, prefer to stay in, am not too fond of drinking…”

It was out of his mouth before he knew it: “What about sex?”

“Excuse me?”

Ezra cursed himself. Hey, Ezra, you know that little internal editor most people have? YOU DON’T HAVE ONE! “Shit, sorry, that came out wrong…”

“No, no, its okay…you mean, do I like sex?”

“I would guess the answer would be obvious.”

“How true. I do enjoy sex, like any person would, but its not unusual to find a man up here who has no clue what he’s doing, no matter how he brags.”

“So…you’ve faked it before?”

“Had to. Became an issue, about two boyfriends ago. My most recent ex…well, he was good—in that way—but he was completely emotionally detached.”

“You were looking for something long-term,” he guessed.

“Exactly. We were together two years, before I realized it wasn’t working out. I stayed on good terms with him though.”

“Well, that’s better than me,” he said. “Most of my girlfriends dumped me for ‘being too clingy’.”

“You don’t strike me as such.”

“Ordinarily, no. I guess wanting to talk to her every day was a bit much for her. And maybe she was turned off by some of my…um, thoughts towards sex…”

“Thoughts? What do you mean?”

Ezra was feeling a little more at ease right now; he got lucky. This conversation was almost exactly like the ones they’d shared together online. He was enjoying this very much…maybe too much, as his cock started poking out of his sheath as he thought about some of his fantasies.

“Um, well…where to start? I guess…” he paused. “I kinda wanted to try bondage sometime, provided it was the right woman, you know. But not to turn you off or anything…”

Layla sounded a little uncomfortable. If the tiger had been able to see her face right about now, he’d see she was blushing. “Well…actually…”

Ezra’s ears perked up. “Actually…?”

“I—I’ve always kinda wanted to try bondage too. I mean, I’ve done a little, like a said…but maybe something a little more, God, I don’t know…harder?”

“Wait, Hard core?”

“No, not that far! Just…crap, I don’t know how to put it.”

Oh fuck, was he in trouble. The fact he was getting harder as each minute passed was getting to be too much; his mind was running with fantasies of this vixen bound up and ready for him to take her, but he needed to suppress it. Stop thinking about it, it might turn her off.

That’s when he noticed something had…changed. He listened to her breathing, and how when she talked, she sounded short of breath. “Layla, are you alright?”

“What? Oh, yes! I’m fine!”

No, she wasn’t. there was something different about her tone. “Uh-huh…Are you doing anything strenuous? Are you exercising or something?”

Her answer left him floored: “um…not exactly…”

Oh holy fuck. He realized what she had to be doing.

“Are you…are you touching yourself?” he asked slowly. She gasped, then stammered, “I…I don’t think I can help it. Your voice…sounds really sexy.”

Did she seriously just confess this over the phone? The first time they really talked to each other? It seemed too soon. It just made him harder.

He chuckled nervously. “Well, um…well hell, this is kinda awkward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! I um…kinda have that little problem too.”

Layla didn’t know if she’d heard right. “Wait, you do?”

The tiger sounded nervous, but tried to pass it off. “Well, like you said…you have a very sexy voice, and well, when you mentioned the bondage, I uh, kinda got lost in my thoughts…”

He was fantasizing about her. He was probably hard as a rock right now, and he was thinking of her. Her fingers stopped probing inside her panties, which were now feeling a little moist. She asked breathlessly, “This…may be too early…but have you ever had phone sex?”

Ezra paused, then answered. “Once…okay, twice, but not in a long while…”

“Would you like to?” she asked softly.

“Really? You want to?”

“I think I need to…and by the sound of it, so do you.”

Ezra couldn’t deny that. He unzipped his jeans and reached a large paw inside, easing out his cock, already hard and standing erect. He replied breathlessly as his hand closed around it. “Yeah…”

Layla’s voice had dropped down to a seductive purr. “What are you doing right now?”

Ezra bit back a moan, stroking himself slowly. “Th-thinking of a certain foxy.”

“Is that so? You know what I’m thinking about? Mmm…” she moaned softly. Oh fuck, that sounded so sexy. “What’s foxy thinking about?”

“Ohh…I’m thinking about your fingers inside me…tongue licking down there.”

God, he wished he could. The thought of being between her legs was driving him wild. He kept his pace as well as he could, but his mind willed his hand to move faster. He closed his eyes and groaned, imagining the vixen laying back in her bed, touching herself as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder; god, that mental image of her with her legs spread, and back, her fingers touching her clit and moving in and out of her body… He moaned again, louder, “Oh fuck, Layla…so sexy…”

Layla was lying back on her bed, the receiver balanced between her ear and shoulder, as one hand touched her clit, the other reaching for her bedside table. She opened the drawer and took out a dildo, not even bothering to lube it up as she moved the soaked fabric of her panties to the side, sliding the dildo inside her. She closed her eyes and gasped as it entered her, and she tried imagining that it had barbs and bumps along it that tickled her inside. She’d never been with a feline before, and she wondered how sex would be with Ezra.

She moaned into the receiver, moving the dildo in and out of herself. “ohh, God, Ezra…it feels so damn good…”

“What’s foxy doing?” his voice whispered huskily through the phone. Layla moaned, clenching her eyes shut, “Oh god, I’ve got something inside me…and I’m—mmm—imagining that its your cock, giving it to me good…”

“Ohh fuck, that’s so hot. That’s it foxy,” he said as her breathing picked up, his own voice betraying his impending climax. “Touch yourself, let me hear you cum…”

Layla listened to him whispering dirty things in her ear, and it nearly drove her up the fucking wall. She thrust the dildo rapidly in and out of her, her fingers pressing harder onto her clit. She bucked her hips, completely losing control of her body.

She came sooner than she wanted to, but she let it go, climaxing without warning. The vixen let out a loud scream of passion as she came, her hips bucking out of control, she still thrusting the dildo in and out of herself, until her body couldn’t take it anymore. Over the phone, she heard Ezra’s own moans of passion as he came, groaning, whispering her name, “Oh god, Layla…”

She was out of breath, and through her closed eyes she tried to imagine him, sprawled out on her bed, naked, cum leaking from his cock. She had never wanted to know how he tasted so badly, she would have given anything to be right there to lick him clean. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, yeah…” he gasped. After a moment of trying to catch his breath, he asked, “Does foxy feel better?”

Layla laughed, relieved and sated…for now. “Foxy feels really, really good…how about Tiger?”

Ezra sighed contentedly. “Pretty damn good…god, you sound so hot…”

“If only you could see me in person.”

“God damn, I’d give anything for that…”

“Maybe it’ll be sooner than you think.”

Ezra had no idea how right she was.

He showed up to work on Monday, to a very nasty surprise.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘You’re fired!’” he yelled at his bosses. His manager, and the president of the company, just stared back, but sent him smiles as fake as a porn star’s tits. The manager, a tomcat, shrugged and loudly sipped on his cup of coffee.

“See, Elliot…”

“Ezra,” the tiger corrected him tersely.

“Right…see, we’ve been having some budget cutbacks lately…”

“So you’re firing me?! Why?!”

The president, a fat walrus, cleared his thick throat loudly. “See, son, you do a good job, and you’re a productive member of the team…”

“But…?” the tiger pressed, feeling particularly predatory right now.

The walrus just smiled his fake smile, “But you’re not exactly a ‘team player’ and we prefer to have people who can work well with others.”

“That is such bullshit.” He wasn’t even caring about his job at this point. He hated this software company, and he was ready to tell them exactly how he felt. “You expect me to be in at work every single day, even weekends, and for what incentives? None! I’ve worked here for the past seven years—I’ve given you my twenties, straight after I graduated undergraduate…”

“And see, that’s the other thing,” his manager stated, loudly sipping coffee again. God, that fucking sipping. Ezra wanted to slash at his face to get him to stop slurping, it was fucking annoying. His manager continued, “You’re very…how shall I put this lightly? You’re under-qualified for this job.”

“WHAT?” Ezra shouted. “I’ve worked here seven years—SEVEN—and you’re telling me this NOW?!”

The walrus frowned, “Young man, settle down.”

“Don’t you ‘young man’ me, asshole!” He was pissed off now. “The only one who can call me that is my Granny and she ain’t here right now!” Yes, he was very pissed; his Texan accent shone full force when he was really steamed. “When you hired me, you said I had enough credits in computer classes that I would do. You said you didn’t give a fuck that I was an art major, that the computer minor was enough!”

“Yes, but…” the manager started (oh, how the tiger hated ‘yes, but’ people). Ezra didn’t even let him finish.

“You know what? Fuck you both! I quit!” he stormed out before they could get a word out. The tiger stormed over to his cubicle and started taking things out of drawers, cleaning out as much as he cared too. He left all the reports and papers where they were, and collected only the few personal items he had. His cubicle neighbors prairie-dogged to see what was going on, and this irritated him even more. “Mind your own damn business!” he roared. Everyone sat back down.

He tore out of there before his (former) bosses could catch up to him, and he marched straight out into the parking lot. He climbed into his car and slammed the door behind him, sitting behind the wheel for a couple minutes.

What the hell was he going to do now? Where could he go? Who would hire him? But right now, he was feeling really depressed. Who could he talk to?

The phone on Layla’s desk rang. She set down the manila folder and answered, “Sanford, Lyon and Co., this is Layla Manning, how can I help you?”

“Layla, its me…”

“Ezra?”

This was surprising. Why on earth would he call her? “Shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

“I got fired—or I quit. I’m not sure which it is.”

Layla leaned forward against her desk. If her bosses knew she was having a personal conversation, there would be repercussions she didn’t want to deal with. “So…what happened?”

“Well, I came into work, early for a change, and after a couple hours of work, the bosses called me into their office and they told me that, after seven years of basically indentured servitude, I was under qualified.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Wish I was. Apparently being an Art major is a curse.”

“That’s bullshit. They can’t do that to you.”

“Well, they did, and there ain’t shit I can do about it. I told them to go fuck themselves, that I quit, then I ran outta there like a bat outta hell.”

“I don’t blame you. But what are you going to do now?”

Ezra sighed. “What can I do? Find another job, somehow, and soon…”

Layla thought for a moment, then something dawned on her. “Maybe that won’t be as hard as you thought. You have seven years experience with computers, right?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you study in college?”

“Well, Art and History double major, computer science minor…”

Layla grinned. “I think I might know somebody who could use your expertise. An old friend of mine from school. Let me give you his email address. When you get home, send your resume to him. I’ll give him a head’s up.”

Ezra’s heart melted as she spoke. She was so willing to help him find work, it almost made him cry. She was the perfect woman—she had to be. “Layla? Thanks for helping me.”

Layla brushed it off, “Please, Ezra, this is what any decent person would do. Besides, I do kinda care about you.”

Ezra blushed. “Thanks…”

“Anytime,” she quickly gave him her friend’s email, and finished quickly, “I need to get back to work, but I’ll shoot you an email later to see how its going. You take care, okay? Go home, get a nice hot shower, chill out, relax. I think after all this stress, you deserve it.”

Ezra agreed, and thanked her before hanging up. He sighed and started his car before heading home. As soon as he got in, he emailed his resume to the address the vixen had specified, then made himself some lunch. He settled himself on the couch and sighed, realizing for the first time in a long time that daytime TV sucked.

Later that evening, as he ate a cheese pizza, alone and in his boxer shorts, he got up to check his email. There was the message from Layla, then one from…

“National Art Gallery?” he asked. He opened it, expecting an email asking for donations. Instead, he got this:

“Mr Naylor,

_ “After having reviewed your resume and your credentials, I am delighted to inform you that we are most certainly considering you as a new employee of the National Art Gallery. All your contacts have expressed great reviews of your work, and we would be honored if you would come to visit us in Washington D.C. on the National Mall, to conduct a formal interview._

“Please respond to this email once you have received it so that we may know whether or not to expect you.

_ Sincerely,_

_ Michael Grandin_

_ _

Wait, the Michael Grandin?! The Junior Director of the Museum, THAT Michael Grandin?!

“Holy shit,” Ezra cursed. Then, a split second later, he replied to the email, his fingers flying across the keys. He then opened his browser, looking for airline fares to Dulles or Reagan International Airports