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    You'd think Paris would be nice.  City of Love and all that.  But if you think love's nice you've never seen love outside of fairy tales.  When you're lucky, love just chews you up and spits you out to crawl back home.  When you're not, it tears you to shreds and leaves you in the gutter to drown in the rain.  Whoever thought up making a city of love was mad.  Or French.  Either way.    The water came down in sheets, giving the city the cold shower it so badly deserved.  Anyone with sense was inside, listening to the hammering on the rooftop.  Which was why one rain-drenched girl climbed her way through deep puddles and pouring streams of water washing over the streets: madness.  Or love for a friend.  The two were close enough.    The doe sitting at a desk and touching up her fingers for the tenth time today was shocked to see someone actually coming into their office.  Her expression was equal parts gladness and pity.  The drenched girl wasn't sure which one felt worse to recieve.    "Bonjour, can Ai 'elp you?" the receptionist asked.    The doe tried to seem aloof but it was about as convincing as her trying to look smart or humble.  The wet mess of dripping fur slicked the water off her eyes.    "I'm looking for a private investigator.  I need help finding someone," the dripping mess replied.    "Oui, zhus a moment mademoiselle."    The most thought that the doe was going to give today went into adjusting her snug bustier to most appropriately display her chest for her boss's titillation.  Not that he was asking, but she seemed to think that if they were sleeping together, she might get a raise.  Or at least paid for last month.    Despite the doe's ass stuck out behind her and presented like a toy car to a kid on Christmas, the drenched girl didn't find herself interested in getting a better look.  She was busy squeezing the water out of her fur, and listening in on the conversation which was as discrete as a billboard.    "A zhob!  Oui monsieur.  We are not making money doing nothing!"    Vicky thought herself was pretty damn smart for someone who'd just soaked the only clothes she had on her.  The difference between the green of her shirt and the unrelenting gray-black of the world; the people in black-and-white and not even noticing her own color standing out like a beacon of hue; being in Paris when the most French someone spoke was understandable with half a year of high school classes; the sarcastic narration.  It was obvious, she thought.    And in this sort of story, if you wanted to find someone, you needed a hard-boiled private eye to get down to the sort of sleuth diplomacy best done with two fists and a gun.  Which, as it happened, the man she'd picked out had.  She could see the hands on his chest and the gun on his desk as she stepped into his office.    "Try not to drip on anything," the

voice from beneath the down-turned fedora said.    "It's raining pretty hard," she said, as if it were news.    "You're raining pretty hard on my carpet."    She wanted to be accommodating, so she took a few steps to the side, where she would drip on the bare floor instead.    "Let me guess.  It's a drowning.  You're looking for the man who drowned you?"    Her lips pulled more tightly.  The private eye straightened up.  He couldn't risk having her walking out on him for the sake of a few jokes.  Tight bustiers and winks when he came into the office wouldn't buy dinner, though his secretary seemed to think so.    "I'm trying to find a friend of mine.  Her name's Liz--Elizabeth--and she's a tiger."    As he sat up into the light of the bare bulb and the glow of the streetlights coming in through the closed shades, she took a closer look at the face of a dark-furred ferret who'd had life give him a few stout punches in the snout.  At the same time, he could see more completely the gradually drying form of the wet white wolf.  She wasn't the specific type of dame he dreamed about coming into his office all flustered and desperate, but perhaps he could climb up the ladder.  Start low with a girl like this, then work your way up to a girl you could use some good metaphors and innuendos on, if you know what he meant.    "Got anything more?" he asked.    "She's an American like me," she told him.    He shook his head.    "That's not a lot to go on.  It's not going to come cheap.  And I'll want half up front."    "For finding someone?  I don't want to hear you can't find her and oh, oops, you spent my money.  You get paid when I find her."    A scowl crossed his face.  Not that it made it look much different than usual.  Much as he hated working without the confidence of having a big fat wad of money in his pocket, the possibility of getting paid was still more money than definitely not getting paid.    "Fine.  You got a name and somewhere I can reach you?"    "I'm Vicky Hayes.  I've got a phone, let me see," she said, digging into the bag she carried and pulling out a card with a handwritten phone number on it.  She read the number out to him.    "Rich Thompson, on the case for you, ma'am," he said.    He held out his hand.  She reached out with her own, and they shook.

     After three days of dreary spring weather offering only bland gray skies, a shining light of hope came to Vicky while sitting in a cheap hotel room.  It was the ringing of her phone.  She scrambled to answer it quickly.    "There's some good news and some bad news," Thompson said.    The clouds were gathering back up and squeezing out her ray of light.  But it was still there.  There was good news, not just bad.    "Okay, and what are they?" she asked.   

"Good news is that I've picked up a few leads.  Bad news is, well...one of them's a crime scene.  Robbery at a store.  I'll give you the address, you can come and take a look with me."    Standing outside a boutique in the dim grayness just before the overcast sky slid into the pitch darkness of night, the private eye and his client gave the police a wide berth.  The owner of the boutique sat in front of them.  Every so often, she took a nervous drag on a cigarette, then let the smoke tumble from her lips up to join the gray expanse.    "Zat is all.  I saw nothing.  I just come back, and zut alors, ze windows are smashed and two racks of clothes are missing," the mouse finished her explanation.    "Right.  Well, we're more interested in a tigress.  American girl.  Might have gone by Liz?" he asked.    He didn't usually bring clients along for questioning, since he tended to prefer percussive punctuation for his questions, but this wasn't one of those times when it'd help.  Especially with cops nearby.    "Oh.  Oh, oui.  Very pretty girl, she dressed...tres magnifique.  She should have been a model.  Tall, and wonderful figure.  Came in a few days last week.  Did not buy much though, liked to look.  I cannot blame her, ze clothes I buy are so good, people will steal them!  Heh heh.  Heh."    The witness wasn't giving them the tigress wrapped up in a bow, but it was a step at least.  First good step so far.    "Now we've got an idea of the area she's been in this past week," Thompson explained, assuming he'd need to.  "I can start hunting around here to find out where she's been seen.  Bet she hasn't just been clothes shopping."    He nodded to Vicky.  The favor of bringing her along had run up, and now he was back to scouring the dark parts of the city on his own.  She figured she would likely just slow him down, and herself turned to follow the way she'd came back to the hotel.    The description that the mouse had given of her friend didn't entirely match up with what she knew, but she had no idea how long she'd been in here.  Maybe she'd changed her style.    Brick and mortar hemmed her in on both sides, leaving her a tiny strip of light between two dark monoliths.  It was a shortcut, but it took her away from the lamplight which she was sure would have been yellow if there was any color here.  But among the vicious things that crept in the dark of her mind as she slipped down the alley, none of them came true.  It was something much stranger.    "Hello, darling."    The whitish glow of a cigarette shone a faint relief on a gray-and-black striped face and a thick, pouting lip.  Stepping forward into where the light hit her, Vicky's eyes took in a tigress with a figure that would have made Thompson wax poetic and offer to take her case pro bono.  Her bosom was barely contained in her long dress, the curves of

her hips revealed by a tapered slit along the side, her waist slimming down into an almost literally breathtaking diameter--she was sex incarnate, and she was walking toward Vicky on tall heels.    "I did notice your P.I. looking around for me," the tigress said.    "You're not Li--"    "Ah-ah, dear, no talking," she said.  "And so you know, it's not Liz, it's Elizabeth.  In fact, Madam Elizabeth to you."    It was like a vice had clamped down on Vicky's muzzle.  Her teeth gritted, her lips squirmed, but the vice squeezed harder than anything she could do to fight it.    "Now, I'm going to tell you what to do.  And you're going to do it for me.  First of all, you're going to keep looking for me.  Don't tell your P.I. that you met me.  I want to see for myself when he'll lead you to me again."    Madam Elizabeth chuckled deeply, the laugh of a frighteningly confident woman.  The bricks rushed up against Vicky's back.  She barely had time to start making the sound of a gasp in her throat before Elizabeth blew a gentle, fragrant cloud of smoke over her.  Vicky could feel her body growing warm, her legs weaker, her vision hazy, like she was seeing through a vaseline-smeared lens.    "You're going to make the most of where you are.  You're in Paris darling, so let yourself out a bit and get your hair and nails done, at least.  And some clothes shopping would do you good."    The tigress's hands, covered by opera gloves, slid up underneath Vicky's shirt, pulling it up over her chest.  Her paws gripped the young canine's breasts.  The mounds were warm in her hands.  It sent tender sensations throughout Vicky, making her wiggle and squirm against the wall.  Her tail was tossed over one of the arctic wolf's hips.  It squeezed as it deftly slid around her leg, and began to run its tip along her folds.    "You're not going to start thinking that any of these things you do are strange.  For all you know, this is exactly the way you normally act."    A sharp moan rose from the throat of the trapped wolf girl.  She couldn't even pull her eyes away from the tigress's twinkling gray stare.  But with squeezes and gropes, strokes and rubs, Jennnifer's body was eagerly responding to Madam Elizabeth's attention.  The weight of her breasts was slowly growing.  Her nipples, as they became more tender, were in fact growing larger and stiffer.    "You won't think that any of these differences to your body are odd either.  Everything will be just the way you expect it to be."    A hot flash rippled through Vicky's body.  She cried out and her eyes fluttered.  The friction of the tail was helping to spur the development of thickening, broadening hips, creating the appearance of a more slender waist at the same time.  The tone of her voice wavered, then grew thicker.  Her thoughts melted as she was rocked by a tight, gasping climax. 

Just after reaching her peak, Madam Elizabeth blew smoke at her.  In her heated haze, she snapped it up in her mouth, tasting the smoke.    "Mm, good girl.  That's all for tonight, darling.  Enjoy," the tigress said.    She smiled and flicked the cigarette at the end of the long holder through the air.  Vicky wanted to disobey, to rush back toward her and demand answers, but her body carried itself back to the hotel with all of the jiggling and sloshing of her newly growing form.  She was dizzy, she couldn't quite think straight, and her body was just begging for attention.  And so she gave it attention, until the combination of fatigue and delight pulled her down into sound sleep.

     Vicky's heart rattled around inside her ribcage like a trapped bird trying to break free.  She'd been taking plenty of looks at herself lately, and she was under the distinct impression that she was looking paler.  Her old clothes were less vibrant and she could have sworn her eyes were brighter blue instead of the dark, grayish-blue they appeared to be now.    It wasn't just coincidence that she was looking in the mirror more often.  Ever since meeting up with the woman who claimed to be her Elizabeth, she'd been unable to resist certain things.  Her fur had been thoroughly scrubbed and treated at a salon to make it smooth and silky, and each of her claws had been given a careful treatment with a file to coax them into a more gentle, pretty shape.    She'd also gone clothes shopping both days, under the idea that she could blend in more easily if she dressed appropriate to the period.  No one had given her trouble about her attire yet, but she wanted to play it safe.  So she wore a light, short-sleeved button-down blouse and a pencil skirt that reached down to her knees, with a broad black belt around her waist.  She couldn't button the blouse up as high as she would have preferred though, so a bit of white cleavage pushed out of the gap in the top.  She did want to be careful with her money, but she'd still bought a small collection of outfits for her to wear, since she couldn't tell how long she'd be here.    In the midst of thumbing through a fashion magazine stolen from the lobby, her phone began to ring.  She sat up from the bed and picked up the reciever.    "Hello?"    "Thompson here.  I've got a bit more information about your tigress friend.  Apparently she's been going to the Office of City Planning to meet someone there every Friday, around about six.  You could try to catch her today if you hurry."    She barely had time to say thank you and stuff her small velvet cap stylishly askew on her head before she was out the door.    The streets of the city rushed by in a blur of smoke and steam.  The details swam beneath the surface of Vicky's mind.  They weren't going to matter, she told herself--she'd find Liz again, and they'd get out of

here together.  She was only about five blocks from the government building when blaring police sirens rushed past her.  Police and Elizabeth together once was a coincidence; twice was stretching her credulity.    A flash of stripes drew her attention, and she caught a glimpse of a feline tail down at the end of an alley flicking out of view.  She took off toward the corner where she saw the tail vanish.  She rounded the corner just in time to see a tigress disappearing behind a basement door down a small flight of stairs from the back alley.  She hurried down to the door, then reached out to try the handle.    "It's locked, dear."    Her lips didn't obey her; she wanted to simply say 'Liz' but she couldn't help it all from tumbling out.    "Madam Elizabeth!  Okay, if you really are her, then let me help you!  We can get you bmmph," Vicky said.    Elizabeth had tutted, shaken her head and drawn her pointer finger and thumb together in a small gesture Vicky couldn't refuse.    "This again?  Why, that's all in the past.  In a manner of speaking, of course.  My, just look at you now...you actually look feminine, darling," Elizabeth said.    With a quick step, she closed the distance between the two of them.  Her breasts were pressed tightly up against Vicky's, the heavy, bulging mounds dwarfing the attractive but far less astounding bosom of the mute wolf girl.    "But you need some real style.  I can't be seen with a plain girl like you.  You're going to start upping your budget.  And you're going to really care about your appearance.  It's one of the most important parts of you, after all."    Vicky wanted to lash out, grab the tigress, and slam her against the wall, but she couldn't seem to tell her body to act against her.  At the very least she wanted to yell, she wanted to resist.  But she simply couldn't.  Staring into those eyes, she could do nothing but let the elegant tigress with her heaving chests and deep purrs and thick smoke rings treat her mind like a plaything.    "You're going to act more classy too.  Hmm...ooh.  You're going to become a gorgeous French wolfess!  Oh, all this waiting is simply going to kill me."    Without warning, the tigress's lips were on her own.  So soft and lovely yet strong and speaking to her of dominating, mind-melting power.  One of her glove-clad paws reached behind her head and grasped her fur tightly, while the other took tight hold just above her ass.  It felt as if Elizabeth was drawing out Vicky's very soul, robbing the will from her body just with a simple kiss.  It was absurd.  Of course.  Completely absurd.  Right?    When Elizabeth pulled back, Vicky's eyes were half-closed, unfocused, her mouth hanging open, chest rising and falling deeply.    "See you again soon, darling."    Madam Elizabeth turned on a thin heel and walked away, letting the

city sweep her up into its tangled web.  Vicky's mind slowly climbed its way back into control.  Elizabeth was long-gone by now, and she wouldn't be able to follow her.  At the very least though, she could see what she'd been running from.    "Excuse me?" a voice in a timbre between innocent and sultry asked.    The young police officer turned around, and a faint blush grazed his cheeks as he looked up and down at the pretty wolf girl nearly popping out of her blouse.  Her clothes seemed as if they were deliberately squeezing her a little too tight, and her plump dark lip glistened in the light of the streetlamp.    "I was just wondering what happened here," Vicky asked.    "An assault on one of the clerks.  A short while ago, she was knocked unconscious.  Since she was the only one still at work, we're assuming that someone was coming in to steal something and attacked her in the process.  You haven't seen anyone suspicious around recently, have you?    Yes!  If Elizabeth was arrested, that would at least pin her down and...    "No, I'm sorry.  Thank you, though," Vicky said.    Vicky was surprised that she'd gotten so much information out of him.  He was merely content to watch the swaying of her hips within the too-tight skirt as she walked away.

     A wave of soft perfume trailed behind the stunning silhouette of feminine beauty.  While the rain beat down everywhere else, she was stepping away from that dark, gloomy world and into the bastion of warm light, burnished bronze, and sophistication that was the new hotel she was staying at.  Three days ago, she'd realized how tired she was of staying in the tiny room at the cheapest hotel she'd been able to find.    Her long legs could have reached all the way to heaven if they weren't capped by the hem of her short dress, ending around her mid-thigh to keep it looking proper while still showing plenty of the natural-born beauty of her figure. Between her legs and slim waist her lower half was a sight to behold, propped up atop slender heels.  But as delightful as it was, those who focused only on the bottom were missing out.  Squeezed into the top of her dress, her bosom pulled the fabric snug in a way that she just absolutely loved.  Each of her claws had been reshaped and painted with a light gloss.  And her lip, the plump, pouty thing that could have been an invitation to get kissed, that was coated in dark, shimmering lipstick.    "Trois, s'il vous plait," she said as she stepped into the elevator.    She had searched around to find a more exclusive salon than the one she'd gone to days ago. She'd come out with her fur trimmed slightly and treated so gently that it felt almost like silk.  And they'd shown her how to do a few different hairdos herself, since she had been so woefully clueless when she first came in.    The elevator rang gently as it stopped on her

floor, and she stepped out.  Once in her room, she carefully removed shoes, then dress, then stockings, then lingerie.  Outside, the rain was steadily coming down, a cold, pitiful washing of the city, while inside, she was sinking into the hot water of a fresh bath.  It was curious how striking her eyes looked, she thought, having taken a glance in the bathroom mirror.  The faint hint of blue made the light gray stand out so strongly.    In the midst of drying off her divinely soft fur, the phone began to ring.  Ah, how good, the American detective had remembered to write down her new phone number.    "Allo, Miss Vicky speaking!" she said in a sweet, French-tinted tone.    "Thompson here.  Your tigress friend just got spotted out on a date with a professor.  The university gave me his address.  We can show up together at his house, and either catch her there or ask him where he met her."    "Oh, that's fantastic, thank you!  I'll come right away," Vicky said.    She took down the address, then quickly went about getting herself ready again.  Hair, underwear, clothes, shoes, check the hair again, makeup, purse, check everything, don't forget the address, and she was off.    Vicky looked down at herself in her compact, then clicked it shut for the fifth time.  They were parked across the street from the professor's house, and had been waiting for nearly an hour.  A car finally drove up and parked in front of the house.  A young male figure rose out of one side of the car, wobbling a little before an elegantly dressed tigress came to wrap an arm around him and lead him to the door.    "Something's strange about this," Thompson said. "He looks drunk, but she's fine?  Come on, let's get a closer look."    Just as they were crossing the street, there was the sound of something crashing and breaking.  It sounded valuable.    Thompson was slowly reaching for his gun as he pushed open the door.  Thompson received a sudden upswing in attractiveness as his face became decorated with the shards of Ming pottery that had once been a vase before it had broken over his head.    Vicky stumbled in through the door as she was tugged forward.  With a baffled, vaguely offended look, she stared at Elizabeth, her mouth half-open.  The tigress only let out a puff of smoke, then returned her cigarette holder to her lips.  Elizabeth smirked; Vicky had a hard time believing she had planned all this was was nonetheless unable to help being a little impressed.    "Now look here, Madam Elizabeth!  I've been trying to talk to you but with all of these...crimes you've been committing I'm beginning to think I should turn you in," Vicky said.    "Oh come darling, you don't have to worry.  I wasn't going to leave you out after all," Elizabeth said.    "I don't want to join you, I want to save you!"    "Oh dear, I'm afraid you're the one

who needs saving.  Let me help you with that.  No speaking, if you would," the tigress said.    Vicky's glare tried to cut through her, but it was necessarily softened.  With only a few gentle motions, her dress and lingerie both had been tugged aside to allow Elizabeth access to the wolf woman's folds.    "I think you might be just a little young for a seductress.  But that's no problem at all.  And you're far, far too worried about being nice.  Other people are there for you to use.  You won't get anywhere until you understand that."    Vicky's body curled, her back arched.  The tigress pulled her closer so that she couldn't get away.  Her expression was wavering around one of pleasure, but inside herself, she was crying out against the slow shifting feeling within her psyche.  She was feeling more aloof, more distant, no matter how hard she tried.  Her attachment to Elizabeth though, that wasn't changing.    Her soft gasps deepened subtly as her appearance was tempered with an infusion of age, pushing her from young and nubile to mature and seductive.  It was only about five years, but the more mature expression, the extra height, the full and jiggling weightiness of her breasts and hips--it didn't take many years to make a girl like her even more beautiful.    "You love seduction and danger just as much as me.  You're going to leave all that old nonsense behind and live here, with me.  You're a rich girl.  You love the finer things in life."    Everything Elizabeth was saying was so true.  It was so true she couldn't help but believe it and know it and let it spread throughout her whole mind and become it.  She wanted to fight, but it was as of the more she struggled, the more she sank deeper in the mire.  No, this wasn't her, she wanted to cry out.  But all she could do was stare into the tigress's eyes and feel herself wearing down.    "In fact, I told you this--I'd love a beautiful foreign girl.  So you're going to be a luscious French wolf!  Say 'Bonjour', Madame Yvette."    No.  No no no no.  She wasn't going to.  That wasn't something she could do.  It wasn't fair.  Vicky could feel the pleasure slowly mounting inside of her, and hoped that the oncoming climax could cushion the blow, maybe even keep her from--    "Bonjour, Madam Elizabeth! Je m'appelle Madame Yvette."    Oh fuck, oh god, oh oh oh...merde.    "What a good girl!  Now, you're going to go unconscious when you orgasm.  For your alibi you see.  You'll tell the police you were knocked out right after your private eye, and then in two days, you'll wait for me outside your hotel."    Yvette cried out, trembling as she felt the wet and aching and panting feeling radiating throughout her body.  It was amazing, being pleasured by someone as skillful as Elizabeth, and as the blackness edged around the corners of her vision, she could

feel the smoke blowing enticingly across her muzzle just before passing out.

     A sleek velvet glove encased the hand which gripped a polished black cigarette holder.  Every few moments, it would swing up to be enveloped by a lush and pouty and deliciously plump lip.      "Oui, just load them all in s'il vous plait," Yvette said.    She waved her cigarette in the direction of her closet.  Her eyes were gorgeous, striking, powerful, and completely gray.  Her awareness of the narration, of the rules of the world around her were gone.  Just like Elizabeth, she was completely enveloped in this reality.  That there had been anything else never even came to mind.    After waking up, the police had come to question the three of them, her, the professor and the private investigator, and she had told them all that Madam Elizabeth wanted her to say.  The police promised to do their best to look into the tigress's presumed assault (for none of the witnesses could say for sure if the tigress had indeed been the one to knock them out) while Thompson had promised to never take a job from Yvette again.  She had still sent a payment off to his office, since he'd been through quite a bit for her.    "Be careful!  If anything is stretched I will have a very stern talk with the manager," she told the flustered busboy.    Yvette had studied every inch of her body and made sure that it all was meant to draw attention to her and keep it there.  Her dress fit snugly against her body, revealing her curves wonderfully.  An elegant design was woven into it that served to emphasize the heavy swells of her breasts and her shapely legs.  The deep neckline and slit up along the side of one leg just made sure that everyone understood: she was sexy.    Her towering heels were held on with thin straps.  Her paws were just as pretty as everywhere else on her after all, and covering up too much would be a shame.    "Your coat, madame?" the busboy asked.    "Pack it up, it won't be that cold tonight."    Her heels clicked, her hips swayed from side to side as if she was walking down a catwalk, and she left a trail of smoke and a busboy pulling a cart with four different suitcases on it behind her.    Yvette stopped at the concierge's desk on her way out.  She thought it was quite darling how he got all blushing and shy when she came down.    "Is there anything else I need to do, monseiur?" she asked.    She leaned forward, letting her heavy mounds lean against the counter.  She loved teasing people like that.    "Not at all madame, I, uh, we hope you will come back soon!"    Yvette nodded coolly, then turned and walked out the front door of the hotel.  Within just a few minutes, a sleek limousine had pulled up, and the driver got out to load everything into the trunk.    The wolfess was close to smiling, which was

quite impressive given her elegantly calm demeanor.  She slipped into the back of the limousine.  As she had known she would, Madam Elizabeth was there.  A soft exchange of greetings took place as the two slid closer and closer together, until they were pressed up against one another, paws sliding over each other's bodies, lips and chests and thighs pressing together.    As they still had an engagement to get to tonight, they restrained themselves, but the tightness only meant their passion came out all the stronger.  Their hands gripped hair, breasts, kneading the mounds and squeezing the nipples, stroking the backs of their thighs, gripping their asses, and each deftly plucking aside the other's clothes briefly to slip their hands between their legs.    It was hot and fiery and crackling, the two of them squeezed together, almost as if competing.  Elizabeth's eyes stared straight into Yvette's, but the silky-furred wolfess wasn't folding and crumpling this time.  She was staring straight back.  Elizabeth couldn't he happier; she finally had an equal.    The flames of their passion made their brows damp with sweat, brought them to panting, made their skin red with the heat of their lust for each other.  While the elegance they cherished was being peeled back by their desires, it didn't subsume their selves.  They were classy wild paragons of eager lust, each burning into the other's minds.  The sensations were burning higher, with a white-hot flame, pulsing through their whole beings until they both let our a cry of ecstasy.    They both retreated a short distance from the other, chests heaving, puffing on their cigarettes to cool their nerves, but with their eyes locked tightly on one another in the ferocity of desire.    "Merci, Madam Elizabeth," Yvette said.    "Thank you too, Madame Yvette," Elizabeth said.    "So," Elizabeth said, determined to show she wasn't slowed down in the slightest, "We're going to be approaching the museum on the north side.  There's an entrance there which leads to some of the rooms that are used for research projects.  From there, we'll move into the center, then around to the east side..."

     Small slits of light were all that made it into the ship's cabin, but they lit up the naked bodies of a gorgeously proportioned wolf and an equally stunning tigress.    "We should tell the captain whether we're going to Greece or Sicily soon," Elizabeth said.    Her voice was muffled by speaking into the wolf's soft neck.  She stroked her fingers through Yvette's silky fur like she loved to do.    "Mmm.  Sicily sounds beautiful, no?" Yvette suggested.  "Will we be killing the captain too or was that just the driver?"    "Oh no darling, we don't need to kill him.  He's just taking a pair of rich heiresses around the Mediterranean."    Yvette chuckled warmly, and Elizabeth smiled at getting

a laugh out of the French ice queen.    "Sicily it is, then," Yvette said.    Their arms gently drew the two females together, and they shared a long kiss while their private charter ship cut a smooth wake across the glimmering sea.