FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The storm lasts for two more days before the sun finally breaks through the clouds and the crews are finally able to plow the streets and shovel the sidewalks. Jesse and I walk to the market a few blocks from my-- I suppose it's our apartment, now -- to get some food. I pick up more soup, more rice, eggs, bread, and anything that's in the discount bin -- some bruised fruit, dented cans, crushed boxes -- doesn't matter what it is. If it's cheap enough, I can eat anything.

I glance around, looking to see what Jesse has picked out, and for a moment I feel panic when I can't find him. Was he abducted? Or did he run off to call the cops on me? Then he steps out from behind a shelf and gives me a small smile.

"You didn't find anything?" I ask, glancing at his empty paws as he walks over to me.

"Looks like you've got plenty," he says, nodding to the cart. "I'm not picky."

I pay for the groceries and he helps me carry the bags back to the apartment. It may have stopped snowing, but it's still bitterly cold. The dirty gray snow piled along every curb rises taller than the tips of my ears, blocking the street from view and making me feel like we're walking through a canyon. I don't like it. It would be too easy to be ambushed, but that may just be my predatory instinct talking -- it's something I would do. None of the other pedestrians seem bothered by it.

It's warmer inside the apartment building, but not by much. We climb the three flights of stairs and make our way down the corridor, only to run into Terrance, the reindeer who lives across the hall, coming out of his apartment.

"Morning, Carson," he says in his soft, dreamy voice. I swear, the guy is stoned twenty-four hours a day. He has a scraggly beard braided with bright feathers and beads, both of his big, soft ears pierced multiple times, his sweeping antlers wrapped with a rainbow of ribbons, bells and crystals dangling from the tips, and a pair of little, round, wire-framed glasses with lavender-tinted lenses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Good morning, Terrance," I say, digging into my pockets for my keys, but I'm not fast enough. Terrance glances over at Jesse.

"My, what an interesting aura you have," he says, the bells on his antlers jingling as he tilts his head from side to side. "So much purple and gold, and aquamarine, too. You're very trusting, but you've been hurt before, and that's made you wary. You like to jump into things with both feet, but you don't always look before you leap--"

"Thank you, Terrance," I say, cutting him off as I finally get the door open. "This is Jesse, my new roommate, and we'd love to stay and chat, but we need to get these groceries put away. Talk to you later." I hustle Jesse into the apartment and shut the door behind me, leaving the baked reindeer still standing in the hall.

Jesse laughs as he takes his bag of groceries into the kitchen. "He seemed nice."

"I guess," I say with a shrug, setting my bag on the counter and putting the eggs in the fridge.

"I thought that crap about the aura was kinda fun. He was actually pretty right about me."

"It's not crap," I say, "and he's always right, which is why it isn't fun for long. He'll tell you things about yourself that you didn't want to know."

"Oh?" Jesse says, his ears perking with curiosity. "What did he say about you?"

I dig into the bag, making more noise than necessary so I don't have to answer yet. Like I want to tell him what that stoner reindeer said. 'You show your fangs in fear, trying to act tough, but you just want someone to love you. You're lonely, but the hard world scares you, the cruelty in people scares you, and you'd rather be alone and safe, than take the chance that someone might hurt you.'

"He said I'm a heartless motherfucker who'd slit his grandma's throat for a quarter," I say.

Jesse snorts with laughter. "Now, I know that's not true," he says, stacking the cans of soup in the cupboard before turning to me. "C'mon, what did he really say? I won't laugh, I promise."

I hesitate. "I...I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," he says with a shrug, but I can tell that he's even more curious now. "Hey, I got something for you," he says, changing the subject. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a caramel chocolate bar, waggling it back and forth in the air. "Something for the ol' sweet tooth."

"Did you steal that?" I ask with a frown.

He snorts. "Don't tell you you've got a problem with shoplifting."

"On principal, no," I say, "but that's the closest market to my apartment and the prices are reasonable. I don't want to have to find someplace else to shop if you get caught stealing."

"Like I'm careless enough to get caught," he says. "You want the candy bar or not?"

I reach out and take it from him. "What about the security cameras?"

"Fakes," he says, pulling two more candy bars out of his pockets and placing them on the counter. "I could tell from the cheap plastic housing and the flimsy wiring." He digs into his jeans and produces a box of condoms and two bottles of lube, a toothbrush, a comb, and a keychain with a little purple plastic seahorse on it. He attaches the keychain to the zipper pull of his jacket. I start to say something, but just then my cell phone rings.

For a moment, Jesse and I just stare at each other, then I dig it out of my pocket and look to see who's calling. The number is blocked, which is not a surprise. Unless it's wrong number, the only place they could have gotten this number is from the website.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat before answering. "Hello, Sexy Snow Bunny Enterprises. How can we make your fantasy come true?" It was a little something I'd been musing over, and it sounded a lot less stupid in my head.

There was an amused snort from the other end of the line. "Yes, I'd like to discuss hiring Violet for the evening."

"All right," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, when all I feel like doing is yelping with excitement. Our first client! "It's two thousand an hour, plus extras--"

"Are you a cop?" the client asks suddenly.

I stop. "I-- What?"

"No, of course you're not," he says. "Even a cop knows better than to discuss such business over the phone. Have you ever done this before?"

My ears flatten, my face heating up beneath my fur. "Actually, no, but--"

"Let me give you a word of advice then: never discuss business on the phone. Arrange to have a meeting, someplace public, to discuss terms. I prefer the Silver Marten Pub on 71st. Are you free tonight, say around six?"

"Yeah, we can be there," I say, still annoyed at myself for not thinking this through better. "How will we recognize you?"

"I'll find you," he says. "You can call me Clyde." He hangs up and for a moment, I just stare at the phone.

"Well?" Jesse asks.

I throw my paws up in the air. "Woohoo! We got a client!"