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Erica was chubby. Not fat--more stocky, you might say, a hundred seventy pounds, not bad for a five-foot-six, nineteen-year-old raccoon. But surrounded like she was by svelte felines, those preciously cute otters that always seemed to have half the campus following them--and the vixens, they were the worst, always eating twice what she did and complaining about how they could never put on any weight--well, she felt fat.

Understand, she couldn't do anything about her build. That was it, you see--it wasn't her diet, it wasn't some genetic disposition in her family toward portly females. It was her build. Just the way she was put together.

She hated it.

She was on her way back from class. Awful things, numbers. The class hadn't been any easier the second time around. She walked home with a little black cloud floating a few steps behind her head, the kind of thunderhead that makes a lot of noise and looks threatening but doesn't quite have enough motivation to just come right out and rain on you.

"Hey, Erica!"

The cloud hesitated at the sound of her name, waiting for her to turn. She identified the voice just before Carroll came jogging up to her. "Hi!"

"Hi," she said, sighing. As always, part of her was happy to see the fox. The rest of her slammed the jubilant part back into its proper place. The black cloud, relieved, resumed its position over her spirit.

"Things still didn't go well," he guessed.

"That obvious?"

"I don't understand." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside her. "You do pretty well with me."

She smiled, not quite allowing herself to look at him. If Carroll was teaching the class instead of that stupid human, Mrs. Pearson, she'd be doing pretty well indeed. "You're...different."

"Thanks." He laughed. "I think. How's the rest of life?"

"The same."

"Anyone new?"

Erica sighed. "I don't think there are that many people looking for raccoon zoomorphs as girlfriends."

He shook his head. "I don't see what that has to do with it. You shouldn't have any trouble getting somebody to melt at your touch."

Yeah, right. She laughed in spite of herself, but his expression was quite serious.

"Are you just not remembering how to do the work?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, dropping back a step so she was behind him. "I really do try."

"Well," he said without turning around, and launched into one of his enthusiastic pep-talks, just like she had expected him to. She took the opportunity to look up. focusing her attention on him instead of the stupid numbers she had been battling--with no success--for the past day. God, he was handsome. Six feet tall to the inch, nicely proportioned (very nicely), a long thick brush she wanted to wrap around her body and bury her face in. If he turned around, she could stare into his wonderful grey eyes--except it would probably make him nervous. No, it would make her nervous first.

They had known each other since her freshman semester, two years ago. He was one of her closer friends--certainly the closest male friend she had. He had been a junior then, but didn't mind associating with someone who was already a social outcast after a month at college.

Now she was the junior and he had graduated. As a reward for his degree, he worked as a waiter at a restaurant in the college town. And occasionally he tutored his friend the raccoon in math. It was probably a wasted effort--she knew she wasn't stupid, but when it came right down to it she didn't care about numbers. The only reason she hadn't dropped the class this time around was because their sessions were about the only times she got to see Carroll anymore. The sessions, and the few times they ran into one another on the street.

She suddenly realized he had stopped speaking. Actually, he had turned around, staring at her expectantly. "Uh, yes," she said.

Those beautiful grey eyes she had wanted to stare into registered confused surprise. "Yes, you do mind?"

Erica felt herself growing hot under her cheek fur. The cloud thundered loudly from a few steps behind. "N-never...uh, no. No, of course not."

"Okay," he said, looking slightly worried, as if he didn't quite believe her.

"Really. Fine," she went on, feeling it was more important to reassure him than to know what she was talking about.

"Okay," he repeated. Then he smiled. "Well, I have to run. I'm on lunch break. See you tomorrow."

"Right. Goodbye." She watched him jog off, then shook herself as if to clear her head of improper thoughts.

Not that it would matter--they'd still be there. She didn't know why she thought they were improper, but she still held on to her mother's vision of her baby finding a nice man and settling down. And she knew that "nice man," to both her parents, implied someone of the same species. Raccoons didn't date foxes for good reasons.

Of course, if she was a fox, she wouldn't want to date a raccoon. Even the humans forgot their fear of fur around the popular vixens on campus; every time Shelly bent over in a short skirt in a public place--something she found an extraordinary number of excuses to do--every male hormone in sight of her tail kicked into overdrive. Erica at least knew she wasn't alone in hating her.

But even being a raccoon, she didn't want to date any of the male ones. They were the only males on campus who looked at her as if she was attractive, and she couldn't return the favor for any of them. Maybe she was being too picky-- after all, she couldn't expect some kind of love god to materialize and beg her to ravish him, right? But the raccoons she tried to get to know--even dated once (only once. for each of them)--weren't just plain. "Just plain" she could have accepted. No, their averageness extended straight through to their core. Simply put, they were staggeringly, stiflingly, awe-inspiringly boring people.

So the next day rolled around and she waited for Carroll to show up. He was a little early, like usual--he always said he was awful at telling time, and decided it was safer to guess early than to guess late.

They sat down together on her couch, like usual, and the fox put the textbook in his lap and turned to the lesson they were studying. But this time she couldn't keep her attention on the double-damned math, no matter who was describing it to her.

Indeed, that was the problem. Obviously, she had a crush on Carroll. She had known that for well over a year. But as they sat near one another this particular day, with her face inches away from his shoulder, her body (which felt even more depressingly chunky than usual) almost touching his and his faint spicy-sweet smell in her nose, it occurred to Erica that she was falling in love with him.

One might say it was to be expected; after all, she had probably been falling in love with him since they met. With some people it takes a lot of time, and that's as it should be. Erica had always been suspicious of people who believed in love "at first sight."

She progressed through the lesson in a bit of a fog, answering the questions with just enough of her mind to pay attention to what Carroll was saying. The rest of her was busy slapping down the part audacious enough to consider love between them. He was a good friend, extremely attractive, and--yes--someone she could easily see spending as much time as possible with. The rest of her life--Why bother to ask? Dreams were for glamorous people. Dreams were for vixens. Dreams weren't for pudgy raccoons.

There was a knock at the door.

"Whoops, that must be my calling." Carroll grinned and put down the textbook; Erica looked up, confused.

"Hello, love." Carroll had opened the door to reveal a female fox, one Erica didn't recognize, standing there--a picture-perfect face over a clinging black dress with a plunging neckline, fur bare down to just above her cute pert damn little nipples, the kind of look that the raccoon would never be able to come close to in six lifetimes.

"Uh--" The lesson still had an hour to go. She had so much more to think about. Maybe, if she got up her courage, even to talk about. Hello, love?

He glanced at her, misreading her expression. "You're sure you don't mind me leaving early?"

"Oh." What could she say? Yes, I do mind, I was just kidding yesterday, I was too busy staring at your body to listen when you said you were going to cut the few minutes we have together short so you could be with your new girlfriend? "No."

Carroll bit his lip, still not understanding but seeing that she didn't want him to go. She never was very good at hiding her feelings. "I'll come back tomorrow. We can pick up where we left off." He crossed over to her and gave her a brief hug like he sometimes did, and this time it left her mouth dry and her fur tingling. "Thank you for understanding about Terisa's schedule and all. You're a real friend, Erica."

"I know," she said softly after they left. Then she picked up the textbook and threw it, as hard as she could, against the door. It hit with an unsatisfying whuff! and lay on the floor, looking kind of broken and hurt and resentful.

By the next morning, she had given her moral dilemma serious thought and now had absolutely no idea what to do. Competing for Carroll's attentions with Terisa would only crush what was left of her ego. She spent four hours stretched out on the couch with her math book, now pitifully cracked along the spine, flipping the pages without learning anything new.

The next knock on her door came in early evening. She had forgotten the fox's promise to come back, and stood there, blinking stupidly, when he greeted her.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said, hugging her as he entered. Erica was mortified to discover that the dry mouth and tingly fur came back, twice as strong as the last hug.

"It's...how was the date?"

Carroll chuckled, dropping onto the couch and bouncing a bit. "Have you ever had dinner with a perfect vacuum?"

Erica shook her head, not quite understanding. He didn't enjoy the evening? She was so pretty...

"Let's just say that if I had whispered in her ear, the echo wouldn't have died for five minutes." He sighed and picked up the textbook. "What happened to this thing?" he said, fingering the spine.

"I threw it into the door," she explained, feeling guiltily pleased that Terisa wasn't perfect. "Long story," she added, seeing the questioning look in his eyes. "One I'd rather, uh, rather not go into."

"Okay." He smiled, shaking his head, and flipped to the page they had been on yesterday. She paid attention as best she could, trying to talk herself out of the state of mind she was in. A crush was something she could handle. It wasn't serious.

After they had finished. Erica looked into Carroll's eyes, trying to build up enough courage to tell him all about the crush, all about what it was threatening to become. He looked back for a second, then grew flustered. "Erica..." he suddenly began.

"Yes?"

He looked away, running his tongue across his teeth the way foxes sometimes did when they were nervous. "Nothing. Forget it."

Another second and she looked away, too, and the moment escaped. When he left, Erica stared at the door again, not throwing anything at it this time but looking through it, a sadness starting in her heart and growing bigger and bigger until it threatened to burst out in a torrent. She only allowed it one tear. It ran down her muzzle and dripped onto her horrid, fifty-pounds-too-much body.

The next math class was tomorrow morning. No test to embarrass herself on this time, so she daydreamed through most of it, imagining herself as a vixen, or an otter, or a tigress. Even a human. Anything but a raccoon who would never be more attractive than this.

That evening Erica sat alone until well after dark, staring at a wall and trying to work up enough nerve to tell Carroll she was falling in love with him. Her courage held up all the way through a walk to his apartment, up through the knock on the door, even through the momentary fear that he wouldn't be alone. It ran out when he opened the door, standing there dressed just in cutoffs and no shirt, and said her name in surprise.

"H-hello," she said, hating her voice for trembling.

"Come in." He stepped aside, letting her walk (waddle, she thought) past. The futon-couch was unfolded on the living room floor, the way he normally left it. It only served as a couch when he expected guests. He walked over to it and sat down. "Is something wrong?"

She looked at him, at his concerned grey eyes staring up into her own, and felt dizzy. "No. No. I just..."

"Well?"

"Just wanted some company."

"Oh." He motioned for her to sit down beside him; after a moment, she did. "I'm not sure I'm going to be very good company right now, but I'll try."

"What's wrong?"

He stretched out on the mattress. It was wide enough for both of them to lie down on comfortably, but Erica remained sitting up, the part of her that suggested lying down next to the fox soundly castigated by her conscience. "I don't know," he said. "I hate my job. The people I date are airheads. My muscles are tied into pretzels." He sighed, closing his eyes.

She looked down at him and moistened her lips, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. "I could give you a backrub."

Carroll opened one eye. "I didn't know you, well, gave backrubs."

"I haven't at college. I did at home all the time."

"Well." He looked inexplicably nervous. "Should I roll over?"

"Uh, yes." She waited until he had turned over, propping his head on his arms, then gently touched her hands to his shoulders.

His fur was as thick and luxurious as she had imagined it to be; she didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Gently, a bit timidly, she began to massage him.

"Oh!" he said.

Erica paused. "What?"

"Just... your touch. I've never felt anything quite like that."

"Is it bad?"

"No," he said, nestling down in the futon. "No, it's very nice."

"Oh." She continued her massage haltingly, then with a little more confidence as she got back into the rhythm. Raccoons did have a different hand structure than other races--longer, thinner fingers, a bit more sensitive. Most non-raccoons found their touch more unnerving than relaxing; she had forgotten that. But Carroll's enjoyment seemed genuine.

Erica closed her eyes as she worked her hands down his back and sides, imagining the conversation they should be having: I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time, Carroll, but it's been unbearable the last few days. You've been the best friend I've ever had and more. And I want us to be a lot more than that. I know you can have your pick of any of the campus women, can't you? In the two years I've known you they've practically been beating down your door. But I think you've only dated five women since I've been here, counting Terisa, and four of them you only mentioned once. I know for a fact you only took two of those--counting Terisa--out on just one date. Maybe you're wondering if it's you. It isn't.

Oh, Carroll, why try and court a pretty face and hope she'll turn out to be someone you can stand to be in the same room with, much less fall in love with? I love you. And I want to love you. Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you before tonight? To run my hands through your fur, trace the line of your muscles from your chest down to your thighs. To wrap my tail around you, feel your brush against my back, your neck against my mouth...

Erica lost herself in images, taboos against "improper thoughts" momentarily swept aside. She snapped back to reality when she felt Carroll shudder under her fingertips.

She looked down, wide-eyed; the fox was on his back, eyes closed, expression ecstatic. The fingers on her right hand were brushing along his chest, his nipples standing out under her touch; her left was between his legs, tracing his inner thigh. Her left leg lay across his knees.

"Oh, God," she blurted, feeling not just her face but her entire upper torso burn with embarrassment.

Carroll opened one eye, a comically sheepish grin spreading across his face. "When I said you shouldn't have any trouble getting someone to melt at your touch, I didn't know you were going to practice on me."

"I didn't...I mean, I..." She started to pull away, but he caught one of her hands in both of his own.

"Erica."

She looked down miserably, ears back.

"What were you thinking of?" His tone was curious rather than challenging.

"What...?"

"When you rolled me over," he said.

You mean I rolled him over and turned an innocent backrub into a grope without any input from the...the...gropee?

"You had this--this expression..." He sighed. "I'm not sure how to say this. It sounds silly in words. But it was just...pure happiness. And I think it was the sexiest look I've ever seen on someone's face."

"Me?" she squeaked. "Sexy? Oh, Carroll..." She gulped. "I was thinking about..." She closed her eyes and steeled herself. "I was thinking about you what I feel for you the crush I've had on you ever since we met has become something else and I'm falling in love with you I'm sorry for all of this," she gasped. Then she started to shake violently.

The fox gaped up at her, his mouth working for a few seconds without any sound; then he let go other hand with one of his, still holding it with the other, and stroked her leg gently from the knee to the thigh. It sent little lightning bolts just below her fur. "Don't be sorry. I'm such an idiot," he said.

"No--"

"I never thought you were attracted to me."

It was Erica's turn to gape.

He sighed, looking at the carpet. "I figured you were looking for another raccoon. And I guess I figured I was looking for another fox, and I just never thought you might see me in a way other than a friend."

She shivered, trying to keep her voice level. "I always knew you were something more. I just never had the nerve to let you know."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid I might lose you completely."

His hand moved up her thigh and torso to gently caress her face. "I'm so sorry. I love you, Erica."

The raccoon closed her eyes and whimpered, then lay down beside the fox and hesitantly nuzzled him on the neck. He tasted strong, and his pulse quickened gratifyingly at her touch. Carroll returned the nuzzle, his teeth nipping gently through the fur; she sucked in her breath.

"Now what?" she whispered.

"You haven't finished my backrub," he replied softly, drawing her against him.

"A massage sometimes works better with no clothes in the way," she suggested softly.

The sun was beginning to rise when they fell asleep. As Erica nestled her head against the fox's chest (he was, she noted with a wondering satisfaction, still hyperventilating), she decided that vixens didn't get all the good dreams-come-true after all.