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It was a Thursday night, ninety minutes before game-time, maybe a little less. Victor, the star player of the Indianapolis Racers, sat on a polished, wooden bench beneath the fluorescent locker room lights. He took a deep breath and unzipped his backpack. He was the first one to arrive. Always was, no matter the venue. He savored the quietude before the eventual chaos; helped him get his thoughts together. Basketball was a very psychological game. Your shooting motion had to be unconscious and your shot instinctive, or else you'd miss your marks. You had to have a clear, confident mind. No distractions.

It was March, which meant not only the arrival of an unusually warm and early spring, but national tourney time. Sixty-eight teams paired in single-elimination rounds. Unfortunately, the Racers' first-round game was against the Cincinnati Musketeers, a long-standing rival. The game was at a neutral location. St. Louis, to be precise. So, the crowd noise wouldn't overly benefit either side. But it promised to be a heated, physical match-up. A lot of bad blood existed between the two teams. They used to be in the same conference, but the Musketeers had bolted for the promise of more prestige. Since then, the Racers had twice made the Final Four of the tournament. The Musketeers never had, claiming that the Racers' recent run of success was a total fluke. They were hoping to end it, tonight.

Victor was the Racers' second-leading scorer. Not because of height or jumping ability. He was just a chipmunk, after all. But, like most rodents, he had an insane amount of twitchy energy. He was fast. Nimble. And was a good perimeter shooter. A pure shooter, you might say. Was one of the best in the country in three-point percentage. The bigger players would pound down into the post, and if there were no avenues to the hoop, they'd kick the ball out to him beyond the arc. Often while he was in mid-scurry. Catch, aim, let her fly! Swish! Yes! Victor for the win ... ! The Racers are headed back to the Final Four!

He shook his striped head, brushing away the fantasy. I know it's good to dream large, but don't get too ahead of yourself. Sure, this is a big stage, national television. Primetime. Trophies, glory, and public adoration on the line. Not to mention bragging rights in the Indy/Cincy rivalry. So much at stake. He hadn't been a starter when the Racers had made their deep tourney runs. He'd been on the team, scored points, gotten the rings, etc. But he'd just been a simple contributor. Now, he had a chance to make a bigger impact, maybe even be a hero. Or, well ... not to stroke my own ego, here. But you couldn't be competitive and not have ego of some sort. Still, this is about the team. Not you. Don't hype yourself up. Treat this like a normal game.

Go through your routine ...

So, the chipmunk took his uniform out of his bag. A towel, deodorant, soap. A few other things. He found an empty, blue-painted locker, opened it, and began putting his stuff inside. Might as well switch into his uniform, now. That's what he normally did. He always took the court for practice shots as soon as he was allowed. He'd never played in this arena before. And it was a big one, meant for indoor football. The problem with using such places for basketball games was that the seats behind the hoop gently sloped back instead of sharply rising up like they would in, say, a smaller gym. So, your sightlines went much further. That affected your depth perception and, therefore, your shot. But he was confident he could adjust. That's what good shooters did.

He raised his arms and took off his t-shirt, exposing his off-white chest fur, as well as the toned hide and muscles hidden just beneath. He was a finicky, healthy eater, and a compulsive exerciser. Very much in shape. Bold, tawny stripes ran down the middle of his backside, extending all the way to his brushy tail, where they eventually merged and darkened into black. He also had little stripes around his eyes. All those 'lines' that patterned his pelt gave him a rather dashing, handsome look. If he squinted and frowned at the same time, he could even look a little menacing! Well, as menacing as a rodent could manage ...

He was six feet tall, which might've been big for the average fur but was rather short for a basketball player. And rather trim. 160 pounds. Not exactly beefy. Muscle wasn't his advantage, per say. Maneuverability was. Flexing and stretching for a moment, the chipmunk unbuckled his belt, popping open the button to his jeans. Beginning to unzip them, exposing his navy-blue boxer-briefs. The cotton fabric clung to his form in flattering fashion.

He'd been so caught up in the moment, in all the reflecting, the competitive seriousness and internal pep talking, that he didn't hear the locker room door being pushed open. Just a few inches, at first, as if timidly. Then halfway. Then all the way. Someone stepped through, and the door swung shut, segueing to the sound of hooves daintily tapping on the hard floor. It was a female's gait, made blindly obvious by the feminine scent that traveled sweetly through the air, preceding even the eventual sight of her.

Quickly zipping his pants back up, Victor spun and gave a startled squeak. "Uh, excuse me?" he went, nervously. "Who are you?" Females never entered the males' locker room. Well, they did, but only if they were reporters. Or mated to the players or coaches. But he didn't recognize her as any of those things. He'd never seen her before in his life.

The deer, a doe, held up her sandy-furred hands in an 'I'm innocent!' gesture, ears flicking harmlessly. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?" She bit her lip, flashing wide 'doe eyes' at him.

"Uh ... well ... "

She blinked a few times.

He briefly held up his own paws, as if to say 'stop flashing me with those things, I'll cooperate.' "I don't even know why you're here. So, I guess not." A pause. She hadn't answered his question. "Are you looking for someone?" the chipmunk asked, seriously. "The rest of the team should be here shortly. Uh, twenty minutes?"

"I was actually looking for you," she replied, with a beguiling smile. She was pretty. Oh, yes. Like most deer, she had a slender quality about her. Not thin, per say. More like: without excess. Yes. That sounded right. Everything about her body was perfectly proportioned. Including those busty breasts. Her reddish-brown fur, tanner in places, seemed so warm, so inviting. And, of course, there was that white, wispy tail. She raised it like a miniature flag, as if to give him a glimpse. Then flicked it downward and cleared her throat.

"Mm?" the chipmunk went, distractedly. "I wasn't staring," he blurted. Which immediately made him blush beneath the fur. Why would you say that, Victor? Saying you're not staring is tantamount to admitting you are. Moron.

She smirked. "You're Victor? You play on the Indy Racers?"

"Um, yeah. How would you ... I mean, are you a fan? In Missouri?"

"Oh, I'm not from St. Louis." She waved a hand. "I just live here. No, I grew up in Indiana."

He squinted. "If that's true, then you'll know what furs from Indiana are called," he countered.

"Hoosiers."

The chipmunk smiled at this. "Mm. Well, just making sure. If you had said 'Indianan' or something, I would've known ... "

" ... known what?" she pressed, raising a brow.

"Uh." He rubbed at his neck, awkwardly. "I dunno, exactly."

"I see." A giggle. "Anyway, I always used to root for you. Well, not you, per say. But the team. When I was younger. I'd watch with my dad. That was back in the early 90's, when we only got four channels."

"I remember that," he admitted. "It was worse when you lived on a farm. Two of the four were static."

"Good memories, though," she continued. "I'm older, and I moved away, but I still follow you ... er, the team," she corrected, again, quickly. " ... you know, when I can." A pause, finally admitting, "You're my favorite player. I like your style, your energy. The way you move." She paused, adding, "Rodents are the cutest things."

"Thanks ... " Wait, is she hitting on me?

"I have tickets for the game, tonight. Came early. Saw you in the corridor, and, uh ... well ... guess I got impulsive. I thought maybe I could meet you? I'm a little star-struck. Uh ... " She bit her lower lip. "I should go, though ... " She turned, as if to make good on this, but ...

" ... no." He stopped her, verbally. And moved closer to her, physically, at the same time. Which is exactly what she wanted. "I mean, you don't have to. Not yet." He was surprised at how insistent he was being.

"Oh, good." She casually tugged at the hem of her shirt, which kept rising up, showing the fur of her lower midriff. "Cause there was something I wanted."

"Oh?" She is hitting on me. Is she a star-fucker or something? Does she think I'm that easy? Not that I'm a star, you know, but ... well, okay, I kinda am. Right? There's your ego, again, Victor. Watch it. It's almost as bad as your penis. It's gonna get you in trouble. He swallowed, nose sniffing. Was she wearing perfume? It wasn't the first time he'd noticed the strength of her scent. Rather nice, actually ... very nice ...

She reached into the pocket of her form-fitting jeans. Taking out a black permanent marker. "Autograph?"

"Of course." A nervous laugh. Why was his throat suddenly dry? "I have to warn you, my signature is shockingly legible."

"I didn't think autographs were allowed to be?"

"Well, it's how I write. I never took 'gibberish calligraphy' in school. So, mine's easily forged. Not that anyone would want to forge it. I'm really not as popular as you're making me out to be ... "

"Humble as well as handsome," she teased, ogling his bare chest. Fighting the urge to treat it like a salt lick. "As far as the autograph, I'm not going to sell it. It's for my own collection. So, I don't care how it looks. Just as long as it's yours."

Victor paused, looking her over while she did the same to him. They drank each other in. Being quite indiscreet about it, too. The attraction was instant and mutual. He had a weird feeling, though. She was too good to be true, right? I mean, come on. Popping in out of nowhere? She had to have been putting on an act of some sort, or have an ulterior motive. He postulated, quite sensibly, "For a moment there, I thought you might be a 'hired gun' for a sports memorabilia store. You know, sent in to butter me up, get a dozen autographs, and then get a cut of the profits."

"Me?" she went, evasively, standing contrapposto. Shifting her weight to one hip. It was a very flattering stance.

"Yeah. You ... "

She took a deep breath, which allowed her to stall before saying, "I might be many things, but I'm definitely not that."

"How can I be sure? I really don't know anything about you ... "

"True," she said, her hands moving to his body. His chest. She rubbed at it. "Your nipples are hard to find. Buried in the fur ... " She looked up at him, being a few inches shorter. "Don't you think not knowing each other makes this a little more exciting?" She found the nipples. "There they are." Her thumbs rubbed at them, softly. She was playing the part of forbidden fruit almost perfectly, determined to get him to nibble. "Sometimes, you just have to have a little faith in furs. Trust me ... "

"W-what's your name?" Victor whispered, hotly. His nipples hardened. He began to wriggle.

"Jaye." She lowered her paws. Moved them to his sides, gently caressing his pelt. Up, up, then slowly down. "This feels good, right?"

"Y-yeah. I mean. Well, Jaye ... uh, sure, I'll sign something for you. If that's why you're really here," he accused, lightly. Focus ...

"It is," she maintained. "It is ... "

"But you ... " He looked her over again, swallowing. Boy, she really was pretty, wasn't she? Victor, good grief, just sign what she wants and get her out of here. She's distracting you! Remember how important tonight's game is. No. Distractions. Please. " ... you don't have anything with you? Like, a team shirt, a ball ... "

"I was hoping for something more personal. Maybe something more unique."

"Like what?" he asked, slowly.

She straightened her posture, turning in a full, sensual circle. Hooves clip-clapping, rhythmically. As if dancing in place for him. "Mm, I dunno." Flicking both her ears, randomly, she left him hanging. Just a moment longer. Let him wonder. Let him simmer. Her muzzle had a 'ring' of white fur round the black nose. It was cute. She leaned into him. Finally letting him have it. " ... how 'bout my bra?" Her breath came out on his cheek. He felt the heat.

The chipmunk's voice caught in his throat. Came out as a squeak. " ... w-what?"

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

He rubbed his forehead, trying to come up with a response. Oh, boy. What ...

"You really are my favorite player," she reminded, sweetly, drawing out the words like a plea. Twirling the marker behind his neck. The cap was still on. And she pretended to doodle on his nape and spine. "Please?"

Victor finally agreed. "Yeah. Whatever." He was beyond flustered. He was shivering with arousal. "Just make it quick." He didn't want his teammates to arrive early and get the wrong idea. Sure, furs would be furs. And especially athletes, who often had their 'pick of the litter,' to put it crudely. It certainly wasn't unheard of. Random locker room hook-ups. But there was still a level of decorum to maintain. He wasn't like that. He was, uh ... yeah, I don't do that. I have to keep a clear head. No distractions, no distractions ...

"Sure thing." She handed him the marker and pulled up her shirt. Her belly was creamier, less brown than the rest of her. As she exposed her bra and got the shirt to her shoulders, she went ahead and took it off. The shirt, that is. Twisting her head, arching her neck. Letting it drop with an exaggerated sigh. Which, in turn, made her perfume waft. "Sign the 'cup' above my heart," she breathed, sultrily. "And after you put down your name, draw an actual heart, you know. I want more than just a signature."

The striped, twitchy rodent could only nod. His paw visibly shaking as he moved the marker toward her body. Candy-pink bra. He felt light-headed as the black, inky tip met the surprisingly flimsy, lacy fabric. Small gyrations of his wrist, putting his name in cursive. And drawing a little heart alongside it. Why was he doing this? I guess I like flirty females. I like being wooed and wanted. What male doesn't? And rodents flustered easily. That was common knowledge. So, naturally, her smooth show of seductive control was causing his willpower to rapidly evaporate. It'd been a while since ... well, you know. Since he'd 'done it.'

Sure, he was a popular ... er, semi-popular athlete. Or whatever. But he wasn't a typical jock. He wasn't a smooth-talking partier. And, uh. You know. And, on top of that, maybe he had some unfortunate quirks, like being a little obsessive, uptight. And ...

" ... good, that's good," she slurred, softly, reaching behind her back. Making him forget about all that. A tiny click. Undoing the hitch. Her bra tumbled off in Victor's paws.

He caught both the bra and his breath, pupils instantly dilating. "Oh, my god ... "

"You like?" she cooed, batting those doe eyes at him. She was relentless.

A dumb, hazy nod. How could he not? They were gorgeous! Milky fur toward the pink, perfect tits, brown fur around the bases. Like snow peaked mountains. And with the bra gone, they hung naturally, going down with gravity. This gave the chipmunk a good idea of their weight and feel even before his paws reached out to touch them. Which they did. Dropping the bra on the floor and cupping them. Those breasts. Lifting them back up, reverently. He wanted to suckle on them. The nipples were sapphire-hard. He didn't have to touch them to sense that. She wasn't faking her interest in him. So, he moved his paws. Around her upper body. Stroked her, eagerly. Her pelt was, indeed, as soft as he'd thought. Softer, even.

"I should really thank you for giving me that autograph," she said, privately, beginning to pant for breath. Soft voice buffered by softer sighs. The whispering only made this hotter. "How 'bout we move into the shower? It'll mask the scent ... "

"The scent?" He swallowed. Hard. "Of what?"

"Guess." Another doe-eyed glance, blue, sweet, and self-assured. Like before, it captured him. Completely. She took a step back, and he withdrew his paws. This made her breasts sink back down. Turning, primly, she raised that tail and flashed it, freely. That rump o' hers. It was pert. The way it moved as she made for the showers. It bid him to follow. As if he needed any extra incentive, at this point.

The showers were separated from the rest of the locker room, but there weren't individual divisions between each showerhead. No, in the male showers, you saw everyone. And everything. It was like a short hallway. There were dips in the floor to allow the water to run into the various drains. Everything was tiled and smooth.

Victor was deliriously hopping on one bare foot-paw, limbs thrashing about. He almost fell over in a frantic quest to get naked. His dilated eyes watched her undress, too. They were both half-nude to begin with. So, it didn't take long. But she managed to make a strip tease out of it, somehow. So smoothly, as if she'd practiced. And were his mind clear enough, he would've, by now, been extremely suspicious. But it wasn't clear. It was very, very distracted. Blame in on nature. Yeah. Nature. Sentient animals are still animals, after all ...

In the middle of the dim shower hall, she slanted her hips. The jeans went down. Inch by inch. Panties became visible. Pink, like her bra. "Go on ... do the honors ... "

" ... me?" he squeaked, his pants and briefs around his ankles.

"You're the only other one here. Well, almost ... " She nodded at his erection, approvingly. "I assume you're safe?" She hated having to ask that. It wasn't a very erotic question, was it? But, still ...

He nodded. "Safe. Yeah ... " The words barely got out. Everything felt dreamy, in slow motion. He stepped out of his clothes. Finally. Totally exposed. His heart was beating like a basketball. Felt as big as one, too. He was dribbling, drooling from the corner of his muzzle. Whiskers were twitching in wild commotion. Finally, he moved his fingers to her hips. Felt them. Gripped ... gripped them, yes, slipped his claw-tips beneath her panty-band, and pulled. Exposing her rump-cheeks. They were just as delectable as they'd looked when clad in denim.

"You better hurry up, Victor. Your teammates, remember ... they'll be here soon." From the way she was panting, it was almost as if she was aroused at the prospect of getting caught. Maybe she was an exhibitionist? Maybe she liked to breed with athletes, in particular? A star-fucker, like he'd theorized. Or maybe she really was working for a memorabilia shop, and this was just 'on the side.' Maybe she'd post about this online or brag about it to her friends. Maybe ... maybe, you know ... who cares ...

... the rodent dropped to his knees, willingly. He trembled, almost nauseous with desire, and pulled her panties the rest of the way down. With his teeth. Yes, those buckteeth, erotically, nose flaring. Whiskers twitching. Her scent was so much stronger, now. She was wet. Not just damp, but truly wet. Her vulva was glistening. Little droplets seeping out and disappearing into her fur. That made him feel a lot less foolish about how lusty he was behaving. He may have been thinking with his penis, but she was thinking with her vagina just as much, if not more so. They were both flames. Craving to come together to create a fire. Burning with uncontrollable desire.

Once her underwear was around her ankles, she lifted her legs. Gracefully, one at a time. Until that flimsy undergarment dangled round a hard, black hoof. And off it went, with a deft kick. And she reached up and turned the shower on. Didn't announce it. Just did it. The rush was immediate. Streaming water, chilly at first, soaking into their pelts. But quickly warming. Very quickly. In no time, steam began to billow around them. The sound of pattering water conveniently masked the fact that they were both huffing so uncontrollably as to be unable to speak. But, then, there was nothing more that need be said.

He began eating her out, abruptly, from behind. Doing it before he made a conscious decision to. It just happened, really. Sorta like this whole encounter. On his knees, muzzle poking up between her legs. Angling and burying, tongue spooning and licking past fur, past flesh. Nose underneath her white-flagged tail. His taste buds tapping into that feminine core of heated nectar. He'd never been with a deer before, let alone tasted one. It was different. It was wonderful. Spicy. He lapped at her, greedily. Making sure, in his revelry, that he took a few ganders at her clit. Tenderly kissing it, repeatedly. This made the doe moan. And it made him want to ravish the precious nub, just to hear more of those sounds. Her sounds. She was as helpless as he was. They were on equal terms, now. The seductress was now being seduced.

After a minute or so, the chipmunk pulled back. Had to. Eating her out from behind, on his knees? It was really straining his neck. He winced, feeling his muscles tighten up, even down into his shoulders. You have a game in an hour, Victor! You can't cramp anything here. Do something less strenuous. Just, uh ... do the deed. Breed. You know. Stand up. Up ...

She felt him rise. Her tail flagged higher. Her rump jutting back, invitingly.

Grab it, grope it. Yes ...

" ... mm-h," was her little, throaty noise. She liked that.

Lift her leg, now. No, no. Turn her around, first! That's it. Her back to the wall. Mmf. Mm. Pin her there. Raise her arms above her head. Kiss her, Victor. Oh, taste her lips.

The doe nearly swooned as their muzzles met, dripping wet. Their arms hanging above them, with the water streaming down their heads and necks. The steam made it seem like they were floating in a cloud. The kiss was sloppy, succulent. She used more tongue than he did. He twisted. She stayed still. And then it broke, and they were sucking air, greedily. All while eagerly, yes, so eagerly groping each other's bodies. The arms came down in order to do this. Stroking, rubbing ceaselessly. He was so fit. He was so attractive. Hugging him around the neck, she lifted a svelte leg, hooking it round his hip. She closed her eyes, muzzle pointing upward. A spray of water flying with each exhale. It was time to do it, do it ... he just needs to pick up my other leg, hold me up. He knows it. I don't need to tell him. Oh ... god ...

Having been erect for some time, achingly so, pre drooling down the underside of his shaft, the chipmunk dipped his hips. Frantically gripping hers, lifting her up. Fondling her rump in the process. Trying to feel everything, everywhere. Holding her up, finally, fully. Yes. Finally, access. Paws and arms underneath that pert, white-tailed ass, letting her other leg raise off the hard, wet floor. It wrapped around him, too. They were entwined. So close to being unified.

He leaned forward, fully, using his horizontal weight to lessen the vertical load on his paws. Grinding against her. Six-inch penis dipping, aiming, and slicing through fur and flesh and right into her treasured spot, that honey pot. Immediate sugared bliss. Oh, Lord, how good was this? Whimpering as he hilted. Raw velvet. That was the only way to describe it. It almost hurt to pull back, away from the core of her essence, but he had to in order to thrust back in, to maintain the friction, to promote their intercourse, driving upward and inward with a desperate, squelching thrusts.

She sucked on his whiskers, tugging them with her teeth as she aimlessly stroked his back-stripes. Thighs squeezing his waist, arms locking more tightly round his neck. His wet tail fluttered uncontrollably. Her ears could hear that, the movement of his tail, hear everything, cocked and swiveling. Whimpering his name, panting, " ... yes ... oh, yes. Victor ... " Her fingers outright curled into his back-fur, now, clutching tufts of wet, matted pelt. She kissed his lips, again. He returned it. Smack-sounds for a few seconds before they wound up panting on each other's faces.

He eventually moaned, barely intelligible. "J ... Jaye ... ah-n. Ah ... " Don't talk. Just don't talk. "Uh ... " The chipmunk hoped that God, the universe, or whoever, could forgive him for not previously realizing how hot deer were. He knew, now. He'd seen the light. She was like a wood nymph, or some kind of mythological temptress, and he would do anything for her. To have her. Take her, make her mine. Give her an autograph of the most primal kind.

She whimpered as he humped into her, stimulating her walls, stoking her fire. Poetry, now, the embers of desire. Stirred like a beehive, busy, buzzing. He had stamina. And such strength. The way he plowed into her was effortless, even while standing, while holding her up. It was making her delirious. She'd always thought shower sex was fun. But this took the cake. Oh, with icing on top ...

The chipmunk began to make his species' native noises, those chips and clicks. Chip! Chip! They echoed off the walls a bit.

Oh, that's so cute! I've wanted to hear that. The doe's hands traveled down his back, liking it. Wanting more. She reached for his furry rump. Pulling, grabbing. "Uh-n ... come on, g-give it ... give me it ... " She wasn't speaking with much coherence. But it was clear she was desperate for release. She couldn't take the teasing anymore. His groin made constant contact with her clitoris, very much on purpose. Bump, bump, grind. Making her special spot to throb. Even as he made sweet friction with her inner walls. Pleasure, pleasure, everywhere, and, oh, so close to that final, glorious burst, that climactic firework! All the pleasure you could hope to handle in one incredible dose! That's what Nature had promised her body. And his. Like dangling delicious glazed carrots in front of their noses.

And those metaphorical carrots moved, temptingly, 'til they dangled off the edge of a cliff. Carried by sheer momentum, the two furs tumbled off the edge of it, losing complete control. Falling into each other. Each rewarded with an orgasm.

He ejaculated inside her for a good ten seconds, penis buried at a sloppy, six-inch hilt the whole time. It felt too gloriously sensitive to move. He didn't dare pull back. Just squeaked, chipped. Oh. Oh-h ... a vein, shaded blue, was popping on the lower right side of his shaft while her walls began to violently spasm, rippling at random around him, massaging and milking him for every drop. Her body shook, squirting a bit of nectar. She whined, eyes screwed shut. Excess seed was already dripping, like primal goo, down the rodent's shaft and onto his swollen sac.

Of course, many if not most of these details were lost on them, fading into a hazy backdrop. Eclipsed by those sheer sensations. The feelings. The haziness, dizziness. Afterglow descended upon them. During which they became fixated on the shine in each other's eyes. The water soaking into their fur. The unabashed grin on her face, and the bashful smile on his. How beautiful she looks. How charming he acts. Such went their simple, post-coital thoughts. This lasted about a minute or so ...

"I should go," she eventually breathed, shakily, trying to lower her legs. The left one, first. A little clumsy about it.

Victor was forced to pull out as her thighs came together. He gave a 'chip' and a squeak, penis flopping aside, already shrinking. The excess seed, nectar, and sweat immediately washed away by the shower. Circling down the drain. His padded paws were still on her rump, though. He gripped it, tenderly, before letting go. He was at a loss for words. Totally ... at a loss ...

Standing on her own, she fumbled for the water-knob. Turned the shower off. Sudden quiet, now, in the shower stall. It was almost shocking how few noises remained. Just the drip of water from their bodies. Their recovering breaths. It had been so loud just a minute ago, hadn't it? Like a symphony. Now, the music had stopped. "I should ... " The words got caught. She steadied her breath, or tried to. " ... they're gonna be here in minutes," she said, starting up again. Referring to his teammates. "I should go. Um. I'll see you ... "

"Wait," Victor finally squeaked, imploringly, heart skipping beats.

But she insisted. Flashing a small, vulnerable smile. Were her eyes wet from the shower or from the sex? "Thanks," she mouthed, without making a sound. "Really." Her hooves clattering on the shower-tiles as she moved away, picking up her semi-dry clothes. She paused before she left his eyesight. To put her panties back on, white-tail at a raised position. But then turned the corner, leaving him to slump against the wall, drip-drying, bewildered. Go stop her! Why aren't you going after her?

Because she's just a fan, an autograph seeker, a whatever. Right? Wasn't that clear? She just wanted to have sex with you. You gave her what she wanted. Don't make this embarrassing by trying to have a heart-to-heart. You have a game in, like, seventy minutes. The most important game of the season! You need to be on the court in five minutes to be ready to shoot. This is your career. You have commitments. She wasn't a commitment, okay. It was ... look, it was just sex. It was fun. Incredibly fun. Yes. So, savor it, move on. Let her go. If she wanted to stay, she would've ...

... yeah, but that's not true, Victor. Females expect you to intuit their feelings, sometimes. To see if you're paying attention. If you're on the same wavelength. Don't they?

I don't know ...

He shook his head. God, I can't focus. At all.

Move.

Get your game face on.

That might've been objective advice. But it didn't feel very convincing. Still, he followed it, leaving the shower and going back to his locker. Quickly drying off, putting on his deodorant, slipping into his uniform. Grabbing an orange, aired basketball. As well as a water bottle. Pausing, distractedly. Her scent was gone. The steam from the shower had shrouded it. But it lingered heavily in his mind as he left through the swinging door ...

The first half was miserable.

He missed his first seven shots from the field. Short-armed them. Clank! Clunk! Then he overcompensated, using too much force. He was over-thinking it. Brick after brick, off the backboard, rattling around the rim. The energy just wasn't there. It didn't take long for him to realize: I spent it on the doe. What was worse, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Couldn't focus.

During halftime, the entire team avoided him, as if his bad shooting might be contagious. They were afraid to look him in the eyes. The team was only down by six, though. Thanks to the defense. Maybe this could be salvaged. There's still time.

And, then, as the second half started, he saw her.

Jaye. The deer.

How could he have missed her, before?

On the sidelines. In a skirt. With the other team's logo printed on her shirt.

Victor chipped and did a double take, eyes boggling. Whiskers twitching. She was a cheerleader for the other team?! The hell? Wait, was she told to perform sexual sabotage on me? She slept with me to get inside my mind? Destroy my concentration? Seriously? His ego, the one all athletes had, throbbed with wounded heat. He was suddenly mad. His stripes seemed to get bolder, somehow. I knew she was too good to be true ...

"Victor, get your head in the game!" the coach yelled. The middle-aged jackrabbit, dressed in a suit and tie, was hopping mad. "Now!"

With new motivation, the chipmunk began hitting shots with deadly precision. Nothing but net. Searing the nylon with accuracy. And each time he neared the Musketeers' cheerleaders, he looked her way. She pretended not to notice. Wasn't doing a very good job of it, though. Clearly, she wasn't as cocky as she'd been in the locker room.

Pull-up three. Got it!

A steal, passing inside! The Racers' center, a Jersey bull, thunder-dunked it. The crowd began to sense a comeback.

The rest of the game was a back-and-forth slugfest, punch and counterpunch. The fouls began to rack up.

Victor, off a long inbounds pass, ducking and weaving. Into the paint, turnaround jumper. On the fade. Basket!

Two minutes left, and it was a tie game ...

" ... hey," came a soft voice. Her voice. "Can I come in?"

"You didn't need my permission before," Victor mumbled, his jersey pulled over his head. He took it off, shoulders slumped. Left only in his game shorts and boxer-briefs, now. The locker room was empty. He was the last one here.

Jaye's hooves click-clacked on the floor. And she primly sat next to him, still in her cheerleading outfit. Her attitude was less over-the-top seductive than before. It was much more ... well, normal. They sat in silence, and sensing that he wasn't about to speak first, she insisted, "It wasn't your fault. The loss, I mean."

Total quiet from him.

"They double-teamed you when you got hot. Especially those last few minutes. Overtime, your bigs fouled out. I mean ... anyone could've won or lost, at that point. And you didn't miss the final shot. Your power forward did. That piebald rat ... "

"Yeah, but what if I had scored more in the first half?" He briefly held his tail in paws and then tossed it aside, restlessly. "You had sex with me to weaken my game. I could've done more. You're like ... you're like Delilah or something."

"So, what, that makes you Sampson?"

His voice bordered on fragile. "Did their coach put you up to it? Or was it just some kind of lark?"

"Does it matter at this point?"

"I don't know," he replied, uncertainly.

She tilted her head, blinking. "You've been crying ... "

A sniffle. "No ... "

"You're not a very good liar."

"What do you want?" he demanded, briskly. Eyes red. Okay, so he had been crying. He took the loss very hard. It was versus a rival, with the season on the line. Winning was like a euphoric drug-burst. Losing, though, was like the opening of a wound. "Did you come here to gloat?"

"Look, they did offer me a substantial bonus to go after you. I have a lot of student loans. It'll help me pay some of them off." She put her hands in her lap, not making eye contact. "I'm not evil, okay? Seriously, if they hadn't sent me, it would've been someone else. I volunteered cause I like you. They're very jealous of your recent tournament success. Like, insanely," she confided.

"That's hardly a secret," he replied.

"Well, still. They wanted to prevent you from having more."

"Do you know how many rules of sportsmanship this violates?" he asked, passionately. "If the game's not fair, then the end result becomes meaningless."

She finally looked his way. Forced herself to make eye contact, no matter how uncomfortable it felt. "I really feel ... " A sigh. " ... guilty, Victor. I do. I know how competitive you are. But like I said, I don't think you lost the game. Cincy has great defense. It was close."

"Close losses hurt more," he insisted. "Better if we'd have been blown out. Then I wouldn't be able to wonder 'what if' ... "

"If you'd been blown out, you would've regretting not giving it your all."

"Whatever. My shot was off the entire first half! We would've scored more ... "

"Maybe ... I'm sorry. I said I'm sorry. There are more important things in life than sports. Than winning."

"That might be true, but right now, tonight, sitting here, I have a hard time believing it." He ground his teeth. "I just can't stand the Musketeers. It's, like ... I'm almost as happy when they lose as when we win. I'm not a violent, hateful fur, but I just can't stand them." He took a few deep breaths. "Their attitude or something. It rubs me wrong. We've had more success than them, and they won't acknowledge it. They won't give us respect. I shouldn't even care what they do. They'll get beat in the next round, or maybe the one after that ... " He hoped.

She just sat there, letting him rant and blabber-squeak.

"I love sports because I love using my body, the endurance, the stamina. The fitness. I'm physical. I love competing," he told her, passionately. "I love pushing myself against the clock, or other furs, trying to overcome some obstacle or deadline. I like the challenge. The goals. The emotion, the intensity, the open narrative of it all. You don't know what's going to happen. It's like an unwritten role-play, and you're a character, and it's ... it's strategy, drama, fighting for survival and honor, and ... and ... " A deep sigh, shaking his head. "It's all the qualities of evolution and life battling out on a civil stage. It's fun." A sheepish pause. "At least, it's supposed to be fun. It's always the best part of my day. But not tonight ... you were more fun than the game," he admitted, "and I couldn't get over you."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asked, quietly.

"I never really thought about it ... "

"Well, I have," she told him. "I didn't have to come back to see you. But I did. I'm here." She lowered her gaze, again, taking her tan-furred hands out of her lap and gripping the edges of the wooden bench, tensely. "Because I really like you. I know I said that before, but it's the truth. Yeah, we don't really know each other, but ... in the regular season, when our team plays yours? I've been there. Each time. You get too lost in the moment to see anything not on the court, but I would wave at you, watch you. Getting paid to seduce you was just a bonus. I would've bred with you for free."

"Why didn't you approach me, then? At those other games? Why didn't you say hello?"

"Because I work for the enemy. You wouldn't have been able to see past that," she whispered. "Especially not when you're in competitive 'game mode'. You can hardly see past it, now."

"You tricked me ... "

"I didn't trick you, Victor," she defended. "You wanted it. I wanted it. Don't pretend it wasn't mutual. We're both adults. Sex isn't bad ... "

"I know. I know ... " He felt hot beneath his pelt. "That's not what I'm saying. You know what I mean, though. You seduced me. Disrupted my pregame routine. I got 'done over.' By you, nature, whatever ... "

"Nature fools everyone," Jaye replied, lightly. "We like to think we're above it, but ... "

"And you?" he wondered. "Do you fool everyone? Or just those you have crushes on?"

"I wanted to be near you. Maybe I should've thought it through, but I was ... I was desperate. Afraid another female would snap you up first. I was lusting for you. I just ... "

"So, you're a stalker, then. I see ... " His tone was slightly teasing. He was beginning to warm up a bit. No point in being moody. Wouldn't change anything, right?

"Not unless you want me to be," she replied. Her ears stood tall. "You can't tell me it wasn't good ... "

He hesitated. "I think it was probably the best I ever had ... " He was positive it was, actually. But he didn't want to show all his cards. So, he hedged a bit. "I'd have to think about it."

"You do that." She smiled, easily. Those pretty eyes. Doe eyes.

He blew out a breath, looking into them. So easy to get lost in. I can't be mad at her. I don't blame her for what happened as much as I blame my own loneliness. That I would breed some-fur at random in a locker room? You were clearly pent up. You really wanted it. You had a choice. And what if it hadn't been her, but one of the other cheerleaders? One who didn't have a crush on you? Who just used you and never showed up again? That would've hurt so much worse. She cares, though. That's obvious. She came back. That has to mean something ...

Sensing his uncertainty, she said, "I think we have chemistry. We 'click,' you know. Maybe it was just the heat of the situation, but it was ... it's not been like that, before. At least not that I've felt ... " She paused, letting that linger. " ... I kinda wanna feel it again. I wanna see if there's something more to it ... "

"I'm not normally ... like, I don't do 'flings.' I'm not a typical jock. I'm too emotional," he confessed, tail flittering behind him. "If that's what you're wanting ... "

"I'm not suggesting a fling. Maybe we could ... you know, date?" She smiled, timidly. Deer tended to be skittish. She hadn't really shown it, earlier. But it was more evident, now.

Victor looked away. Took a deep breath. Then turned his eyes back to hers. He'd really enjoyed being with her. And maybe he didn't believe in love at first sight, but he felt something. Something strong. It was like she had a gravity about her. Would it be so bad to stay in her orbit? "Well, we're headed back to Indy in the morning. So ... "

"I have a phone. E-mail. I'm not off the grid. Cincinnati is only two hours away. We could at least try, you know? It wouldn't hurt."

"I suppose," he agreed. And he slowly reached a paw to her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He'd kissed her, hugged her, humped her. But he hadn't yet held her hand. Until now. "I forgive you, Jaye, for ... like, you know, the thing. And the stuff." Wow. Way to be eloquent, Victor. You're nervous. Calm down. "I'm not mad, is what I mean. I was just ... "

" ... confused," she said.

"Yeah." A nod. "Suffice it to say, nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

"Nor me."

"Seemed like you had practice ... "

"Not quite," she said, coyly.

"Mm." The chipmunk reflected for a moment. "Our team wasn't as strong as the last few years' ... we wouldn't have gone too deep in the field. Not without some luck. I just wish we hadn't lost to the M's ... "

"You'll beat them next year," she insisted.

"Yeah ... " His brushy-striped tail flickered behind him.

She sniffed the air. "You haven't showered yet?"

He shook his head. "No. Been too busy sitting here, moping with my head down ... " He swallowed. "Then talking to you ... "

"Well, how 'bout I join you? No sex this time. Just nuzzle me, hold me. That sound nice?"

He nodded. It sorta did ...

"We won't be interrupted, will we?"

"No, everyone else has already walked back to the hotel," he whispered, shyly. "We're alone." He straightened his posture. "Do you 'get off' on public, uh ... like, it seemed to excite you earlier."

"It excited you, too." A playful wink. "And, no, it's normally not something I do. But it was different. Made the blood move a little faster, I admit. Nothing wrong with trying new things. Life is about experiences, both private and shared."

"You're wise as well as beautiful. Just promise me something like this won't happen again ... I mean, not the sex. I'm all for that."

She giggled. "Of course."

"I mean, like, manipulating me ... "

"I know. I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again." She paused, adding, sincerely, "Not many males would be mature enough to hear me out, to give me a second chance. They would be too upset. I appreciate this ... "

"You can repay me later," he said, dimples showing on his stripe-furred cheeks. "With pussy."

"Uh-huh." She ribbed him.

"I'm serious," he said, eyes glinting.

"I know ... "

He let go of her hand and stood up to undress. She did the same. It didn't take long. "I'm glad you're not wearing that logo, anymore."

"Don't like sleeping with the enemy?"

"Never really done it before. Is that a fetish?" he asked, shyly.

"I don't think so ... unless you want it to be?"

A nervous laugh. He changed the subject. "I don't know what perfume you're wearing, but it's been driving me wild all night. It's searing itself into my memory," he confessed.

She giggled at this, nudging him into the shower hall. "Well, thanks. But I don't wear perfume."

Seven months later, it was the first week of a brand-new season. The Racers had assembled a very strong team. Last year ended below expectations, but there were high hopes this time around. Pundits were even talking about a national championship. Even the message board posters, normally the most cynical of the bunch, were optimistic. There was also buzz about Victor. So far, he was averaging six points more per game than his old norm. It was like he'd been given an extra boost. But from what ... ?

In a Milwaukee hotel room, late at night, a 'do not disturb' sign hung outside the door. It was an hour after the Racers' road game against the Phoenix. The Racers had won, improving to 4 and 0 on the season. Clothes were strewn about the floor. The lights were off. The curtains were closed, but illumination from nearby street-lamps managed to sneak just through the cracks.

Jaye's tawny cheek sank into a downy pillow, maw open. She was drooling. "Ah. Ah-h ... " On all fours, her white-tailed ass in the air. "H-how many points did you ... score, again ... "

"Oh, um-h ... " His hips rocked forward, firmly.

"Mmf ... "

" ... twenny-two," Victor slurred, hotly. "Five rebounds, six assists. Mm, you were there ... "

"I know," was her lazy retort. "I just like hearing you brag about it. I find if you stroke an athlete's ego, his performance in bed ... goes uh-h ... uh, up ... oh, right there! Right there," she whined. "Vic ... "

"Mm, don't move," he squeaked, angling his firm, glistening essence and plowing that spot. That particular stretch along her upper vaginal wall. His smooth, sensitive glans slid over it, smoothly. Time and again. Oh, that felt good.

She squirmed around him, eyes rolling back, whimpering and clutching the bed-sheets. Her legs twitched. Hooves giving tiny kicks. " ... oh-h ... oh."

He was so turned on. Just watching her, hearing her. Let alone being inside her. "You make me feel combustible." He hunched forward, kissing her back. Gripping those hips, and ...

" ... mm?" A dazed moan. "What are you doin' ... "

He'd pulled out, suddenly, wet erection raging at full mast. "Roll onto your back," he mumbled, privately.

She did so, the bed mattress creaking beneath their combined weight. Her breath was shaking. She looked up at him, lovingly.

The chipmunk lifted her lithe leg. Licked the hard, black hoof. "These are sexy."

Jaye smiled as he did this. "H-heh ... "

He then kissed her ankle. Nibbled his way up to her thigh. Blew a long, warm breath upon her clitoris. Even danced his tongue upon it. She especially loved that. Mm, warm shivers all over. Yes. And then he got to her belly. Much curvier than it'd been that first night in the locker room. She'd gained weight. He nuzzled it with his puffy cheeks.

"You're gonna make him kick ... "

"You think?" he asked, lightly. "Mm, why does that arouse me so much ... "

"Cause you're horny," she pointed out, cheekily.

"Says the pregnant deer," he teased. "How'd you get that way, again?"

"Last time we had sex, he kicked while we were, uh ... you know. Peaking. I think we woke him up ... "

"He'll understand when he's our age." He mouthed that belly-fur, wetting whole patches of it. Burying his nose in the pelt. Breathing deep. Sliding his muzzle up to her breasts. He attacked the mounds, now, whispering to their unborn offspring, "Mommy and daddy can't help it. Not when we're so madly in love ... "

Last spring had been so warm and come so early. Twenty degrees above normal. Daffodils blooming the second week of March. Maybe the doe's body had responded to nature's faux-summer by bumping her heat cycle a few days early? Some environmental reason? Whatever the case, she'd been in heat that night in St. Louis. In the locker room. Or, at least, had been on the front end of it. Hadn't truly begun feeling the effects until the day after the game. Not that it should've mattered.

They were hardly compatible, genetically. Maybe deer and moose, or chipmunks and squirrels. Or members of their own species, most obviously. There were dozens of better matches. But chipmunks and deer? The odds of the two species successfully reproducing were one-half of one percent. That's what the doctor had told them. They literally could've had unprotected sex two hundred times that night, and only once would his sperm have penetrated her egg. It was the equivalent of hitting a full court buzzer beater in one attempt. It was a near-miracle ...

... definitely unplanned, and quite a shock, at first, but it had brought them closer together. As one might expect. They were mated, now, living in Indy. She'd quit her cheerleading gig with the Musketeers. He was no longer sleeping with the enemy. He was sleeping with a Racers fan. His wife.

"That first night," he confessed, passionately, "you got in my head in the worst way. Like a siren. I was so distracted." He hovered his bucktoothed maw above her right breast. Kissing the nipple. "But, now, it's like I feed off you. You motivate me. Like a muse. I need you before and after each game like I need food or water ... " He finally moved his lips over the tit, suckling on it, gently.

"Flatterer," she breathed, happily.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, looking up with a grin. A paw reaching down between her legs. Fingers between her petal-lips, while his thumb pressed down on her clitoris.

"N-not at all ... " She moaned, lightly. Then cradled the back of his head. Spreading her legs. Wrapping them around his body.

He wriggled his way up, nose to nose. Laying atop her, now.

"Vic ... "

" ... mm?" He kissed her cheek. Then her jaw-line.

"You say I used to be a siren. Now, I'm only a muse?"

"Mm-h. Do you want to be both?" He rubbed his groin against her lower belly, erotically. Grinding into the pregnant bulge. Slowly lowering to her pouting, heated sex. Her essence.

"I want to be everything to you. Siren, muse, friend, lover, mate," she breathed.

He chipped, breathlessly, as their genitals came together. Fusing in such a beautiful way. "You ... you are my everything, Jaye." He nibbled on her shoulder. "My doe. My perfect doe ... "

"I love you," she replied, breathlessly, rubbing the rodent's back. Up and down the central stripe, intimately. She felt insanely happy. Maybe that was a corny way to put it, but it was the truth.

A chitter-noise, mumbling beneath her chin, " ... love you, too."

She arched beneath him as he began to thrust. They rocked and writhed. Together, in the dark of the hotel room, they went off like a firework. They glowed. Her and her chipmunk. Her athlete. Her pure shooter.