Burwood
Written at work, six hours, and old songs running through my head.
I still cannot figure out formatting for sofurry 2.0
Thanks, Vik, for mild editing.
It was an old, red brick and mortar building on the edge of Lawrence Avenue and Olivehurst Road. Built someone-fifty years ago, the place was aged in the popular style of that far-away time, and was built with high windows, and burnished with the laughter and youthful experiences of children of a by-gone day. A great pair of doors, still the original oak though the handles had been long changed to the curly knobs of this modern era, were at rest beneath a great brass plaque, which was inscribed: "Our Lady of the River, Saint Elizabeth's School for Young and Proper Ladies". A great and well maintained yard announced a heavy care for appearances, while a long winding road lead to a parking lot, where faculty could park, and then walk. The entire place was surrounded by a great wrought-iron fence, with pointed tips marring what appeared to be old black spearheads. It was my new workplace - the tenth-year teacher of the famed, and sometimes rumored, Saint Elizabeth's School. I stood with my furred flank (dressed in grey slacks) pressed against the side of my 4-door car (blue crown-vic), and was busy straightening up my tie and jacket. I was, perhaps, a little over-dressed, but it never hurt to give a good impression to ones students, especially as the newest teacher to be hired to such a famed, and sometimes rumored, school. I straightened my hair over my shoulder - I was skirting regulations, but the eye of Father O'Donnell twinkled as he saw my rebellion. A wily, of grey-feathering Raven, he had a heavy hint of a south-African accent, but a warm heart and broad laugh. I had gone to the pub with him once already, and even being a minister of the faithful, he could put away a beer. As he had said: "Even our lord drank wine, thus, who am I to deny what our messiah allows! 'Tis moderation, not denial, which tempers the spirit!" He was a good soul. He had taken a look at me, after ten minutes of reading my resume and file in the office, and suggested we go out to get some fish and chips at the pub - though: "Not as good as the ones of m'home, but, I don't fault 'em for tryin'!" I didn't ask how a hyena would have the accent of the green-isle, but I knew he had been to many different diocese in his time. Now, perhaps growing to a retiring age, he oversaw the precocious temperament of teenage girls - and was much loved, as one would love a grandfather. This I had seen when a (rather lovely, I blush to admit) red-furred wolf gave him a hug, and told him (quite excitably, I might add!) about her going out with 'a local boy'. A twinkle in his eye, he admonished her to use care in her dealings with boys, and always, that he was happy for her success in courting. She hugged him twice, and giggled as she skipped merrily along. I was glad her skirt came to her knees - it hadn't been so long since high school myself. I admired the stonework of the path, and the pair of angels that stood on both ends - their wings folded high like an arch, and in each hand a sword, head bowed as silent sentinels for those who came within these halls of learning. In my grey suit, I felt the thump of my briefcase against my hip, and looked up at the tall spire of the on-site chapel, where morning prayers would be said. Though not catholic (or anything), I respected their faith. Certainly, the nuns who maintained the chapel and taught were friendly enough - if critical of faults. I had already had my tie straightened, and hand smacked by a ruler for interrupting the mother superior. My knuckles were still tender. Tenth grade - well, really I taught ninth through graduation - but specialized in the tenth year of education, I found myself with a sudden nervousness while entering into the old halls, and heading for my classroom. I was teaching two subjects - the physical education in the afternoon; volleyball and running - as well as history in the morning. I held a bachelors in sports medicine and minor in American history - specifically civil-war era - but there was little market out there for it, though I had taken a mild interest in teaching now and then. I straightened my tie again and put my case upon the top of the desk, and leaned back to observe the room. There would be twenty five young ladies here and they would have an admirable grasp of American history before they left for the next grade. It was not the easiest of classes, but I always enjoyed a challenge. I removed my jacket and laid it on a nearby rack - and looked out the window while sitting on a desk edge. My vulpine tail flicked side to side, the red hues a good contrast to the burnished wood of my pupil's desk. Outside, the clouds had gathered grey and misty - beyond, mountains loomed, almost blue in the hour, and white tipped. It was picturesque, and the woods behind the school seemed to stretch on to infinity. Above my door, the bell rang - and class would arrive soon.
"My name is Jonathan Burwood, I am your new teacher of histories, as well as doing some of your physical education classes." I stood in front of my desk, my hands clasped together at my belly - and my face bright and attentive. My long hair was in a tail and my tail was long over the edge of the desk. Before me, twenty five girls sat, a mix of species, wolves, felines, a pair of avians and a gryphon - one dragon, and a score of others. A single red-tailed vixen sat in the middle, her green eyes attentive as she looked at me, listening like I had hoped. "I will be teaching you American history, up to the civil war, and hope that our experience will be a positive one. This is my fourth year of teaching, and my first year of teaching a private school." Each sat attentive in their skirts and blouses, prim and proper a group as I had ever seen. Then again, admission was both by pay and appointment, those here wanted to learn and excel, or their parents were ensuring they would attend and understand to the very best of their abilities. "I understand that your last teacher retired this year, and was much loved by everyone here." I heard a few giggles, as some of the fair ladies caught the attention of their classmates, and exchanged looks. I chose to pay no attention. "I will call roll, and then we can get started on covering what you already know, and go from there. Is that a deal?" A hand rose, a slender paw of black. Looking up, a blue-eyed feline smiled, when I nodded. "Where did you teach before?" She asked. Her name was, I would find out, Melissa. A bright student. "You don't look like a normal teacher." "I taught juvenile corrections for three years. Before that, I did four years in the Army as, of all things, a medic. I have traveled through the middle-east, and took part in the remaining days of Afghanistan. I received my bachelors in the University of Florida. So tell me, young lady, what does an 'ordinary' teacher look like?" "Well, they usually aren't so... buff." She said. I knew my face was about to flush, and fought it down with a fold of my ears and narrowing of my eyes. But then I laughed, and shook my head. I just turned, my tail flexing above my haunches, and wrote on the wipe-board todays lesson. I also didn't want them to see my cheeks flush - or the fact that I was nervous about being complimented by a young lady. It was true I jogged three miles every other day, and was no stranger to the gym - but I hadn't known it'd be so /noticeable/. "Today's lesson..."
"Good hustle! Now, the secret is to breath from the belly and lift your legs as you run - not from your chests, but a deep, firm gut-breath that will get your blood rich with oxygen, and get your body ready to actually work." I blew my whistle, before setting up to follow after the ladies, another class, all dressed in long pants that hugged and kept them modest. They took off and pumped their legs, getting set for a distance run as opposed to a sprint. I nodded, keeping pace with the slowest and urging her on faster. She was a chubby husky, her curly tail working furiously as she put herself into it - though her weight was slowing her down. She was trying though - and I'd never fault someone for trying, even if it failed. She worked and I sped up to meet the middle of the pack - and kept pace with a green eyed vixen - the same one from history. She looked over in surprise and I offered her a bright smile, and nodded. Settling into a run with her - dead center of the group, I felt my calves start to burn from the exertion, but didn't slow myself. The burn was good, and we had two miles to go through. Two miles - they'd be exhausted if they could finish it at all. Eight loops of the track would do it. The clouds were heavy and threatened to rain, and my running shoes slapped onto the rubber track, which gave me more reason to keep going. My tail lifted to give me extra balance as I leaned forward, throwing my weight behind my steps in effort to give it as good as I could. I felt sweat course my body, and the heat of blood ran through my veins, giving me the euphoric high that running always gave me. It was as good as anything I'd ever tried. My simile grew serene as I panted - and caught the eye of the vixen beside me. Her ears were perked in a rather peculiar way. I didn't think too much of it, but shared a moment. "Good job." I said, and she flushed.
His name was Carlos "Toby" Tobias Donahue. A pair of inches shorter than my six feet, he had a serious expression worn onto his face, and often quiet when not teaching. I sat across from him in the teachers' lounge, marveling at his sardonic wit when he would rack a very dry pun now and then. English was his specialty though, if anyone asked, there would be questions if he was an English teacher, or a bear in a hyena suit. Though I was taller, he was solid and broad - the look of a running-back who was on his way to be a lineman. The hyena was stocky, and distant, though never without friendship. "How was your first day?" We shared a pizza, his way of welcoming me without having to say anything so friendly. "They eat you alive?" "No. My drill was worse. Just, very question-happy. Not that I'll complain, but a few of the girls were quite curious about me." I said, chewing on some crust idly. The stuff was delicious, and I had an addiction to carb-heavy food. It'd be the death of me someday, but not today. "Like they didn't expect to see another male teacher in this place." "There are not many of us, no, just myself, you, Mr. Angelwitz, and the Father. Not many males pass inspection to even step foot in here. Either your reputation spoke for you, or you gave him the impression you would be good for the students. The father loves his students, and heaven help you if he feels otherwise." "Hmm." I replied - giving a slow nod in response. He had finished his plate and taken mine to put into the sink - before him and me both got up to walk to the gym. It was expansive, more built for cardio aerobics than weight training - both Toby and I worked the weights on a bench - I curling a thirty-five weight, and he, shockingly, no-troubled a fifty. I was nowhere near as broad, but I had my own wiry strength. "I've been teaching here since I was twenty five." He barely looked a day over thirty. I nodded, looking at a few of the spots on his face. "Not too good at math or that, but I can do treatises on the works of Navidson, and speak four languages. I sometimes substitute the French classes when Sister Josephina needs to rest. She's recovering from cancer. Four years clean, but she gets winded and tired really easy." He had sympathy, though didn't show it outwardly. A very male response, even for a hyena. He shook his wheat-yellow fur and sighed - switching to a bar machine to pump iron. I took up jogging on a nearby treadmill, and we kept our thoughts inward for the next hour. Afterwards, the gym was nice, and we showered in peace. He was a handsome guy - a few scars and tattoos, but nothing off-putting. I paid no attention to the occasional look my way. I had already pegged him as being male-biased. His brow quirk and enigmatic smile only sealed the deal. I did my best to try and ignore the way his penis swelled when I took a look at him, and how mine thickened in response. His brow rose inquisitively, and I flushed, before scrambling to hurry the shower up. His brow rose with a curious 'hmm', and I hurried off to dry and leave for the day.
A peculiar scent caught my nose one day, when I was giving a lecture on the advances and the impact brought on by the cotton-gin, and other such 'modern' technologies of those distant days. It was a broad topic, and gave them something new to chew on between the tired lessons between different political focuses and expansion into the western territories. The peculiar scent was something that caused me to stutter a moment, and sniff the air again - to my surprise. Eyes closed, I took a deep breath and held +like a rose just blooming in the first days of spring. I shook through it, sucked in another breath, and then gave a small laugh. "So, as you can imagine, with added ability to labor, the need for slavery began to slowly, but gradually, shrink down." I murmured. My head felt light, and I felt good. I needed to get more of that sweet scent. Then I felt another shock. Ahh. Yeah, I knew what it was. I reached into my desk and pulled up some nasal decongestant and applied it, liberally, to my nostrils. I inhaled, the mentholated scent helping take the edge off. My brain screamed at me to stop, then went silent. I could fight that smell. I really had to. "Though there's twenty minutes left on the clock, why don't you form groups to talk about it amongst yourselves - tonight's homework is to write me a two page paper about one of the inventions I discussed. And Ms. Woodmeister, can I see you for a second?" Her lovely tail curled and swayed over, what I'd noticed to be, firm haunches, and she drew in with a sensual walk that stirred me even through the mentholated block. I swallowed and felt my mouth grow dry. I hated spring for this reason, though her luminous green eyes were quite exotic, and the way she smiled with a curl of those soft, black lips was quite enticing. I was glad I was sitting down. I smiled up to her and leaned in to talk quietly for a moment, and gave her a smile. Her cheeks and ears were flush, though not from shame or fear, but from something a little older, and far more instinctual. "You need to go to the nurse's station - she'll know what to do." I smiled. She looked confused, and her eyes widened with a small squeak as she covered her mouth. A quick nod, and she trotted out. I was ashamed to say, I wished her skirt had been a little shorter. And her hips had been swaying a bit more, and her tail had lifted up high enough that- I caught an inquisitive look from the blonde-furred Siamese, who blinked her large eyes at me. "She looked a little flush. Just making sure she wasn't with a fever. You know how spring is with allergies." I lied. Damn, I'd dribbled into my boxers.
She was not in class the next day.
"You alright?" Friday after work, the best time to go to a bar. I had finished the homework from the day before, and caught myself thinking again of that lovely lady in her skirt and the sweet scent of spring. My attention wandered over to Toby, who held a pitcher of beer in front of himself. Two weeks, and we'd made it a ritual already - three days at the gym, one day at the bar, and weekends to do whatever. I already had a good friend in this place. Toby smiled up at me, then let it fade to that serious look of his. I shook my head, buzzed, and still riding on that scent. "Just one of the girls. You know how girls can get." I said. Should I say it? "Spring time." "Ohh." He said, dragging out the sound like a sigh. He frowned, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, even I'm not immune to spring." "Mmm?" I asked, lifting up a chicken wing and threatening to disembowel it with my teeth. Did wings have bowels? I didn't care the semantics on a Friday. "Yeah, I don't swing that way." He replied, while lifting his beer and leaning back with a yawn and a sigh. His black snout wiggled as he sniffed the air, then looked at me. His golden eyes shown with a quiet humor - he really was a pleasant soul, if distant. I supposed that was as much a hyenic trait as it was anything else. "I mean, the smell of them is nice, but, it doesn't /do it/ for me." "Well, what does it for you, then?" I asked, taking a succulent bite of that wing, and sighing at the way it melted in my mouth. No sauce, just the chicken baked in its own juices. I took another bite. "Big tails, people with self-confidence, mmm, expressive ears. I also love the smell, that lingering scent, of a male. The smell of his hair, and tail and the lingering aromatic presence of his musk. Not the sweat, gods no, but, you know, just after a workout, that body heat." He sighed softly, and gazed over at me. "Also a fan of foxes, no lie." I nearly choked on my chicken. I coughed, and he roared with a bright laugh. "Really? Ah, well, I..." "Don't worry, I think you are fine and all, but I get the hint - you don't care for males. Or at least, hyenas." He didn't seem upset about it - more than he'd be upset at the rain falling on a game, or a goldfish dying. His bright eyes held mine for a moment, almost long enough for me to stare. They really were pretty. Still, I frowned at that, and looked up at him with a shake of my head. "No, no, it's not that, Toby." I hesitated. Was I blushing? I hated to blush. "I just haven't had a relationship since high school and I wouldn't want to..." "To what? Sleep with another guy? Go out on a date? Kiss him?" I stuttered a bit. I took another deep breath, and gave him a bit of a smile. I reached over and put my hand on his for a moment, squeezing once. "No, no. I just don't want to lose a friend. My last date was a disaster, I nearly got shot by her ex. I don't want to worry about someone's ex, or offend a valued friend, or mix..." He held my hand for a moment. There were no sparks, no tingles, nothing magical. He just looked at my hand, and then patted it, letting me feel the warmth of his own. I opened my mouth to say something. "I really do like you, Toby... I..." "Goddamn fags." I heard a drawl. A big voice, feline - a bear. I turned my ears and glanced at a large bruin in jeans and a flannel shirt. One of the local good-ol'-boys from the countryside. He glared at us, as I squeezed the hand of my good friend. "Disgustin'." Drunk. Seven feet tall, four foot shoulders - he was a fridge to Toby's running back. I glanced up at him, and then to three of his friends. Bears. All of them. I sighed and shook my head, and looked at Toby, who captured my eye after a moment. "I think we pissed him off." I said. I felt his hand start to withdraw, and captured Toby's wrist with my fingertips. I may have been shy with friends, and worse with my students about some subjects, but things like this were hardly worth the effort. I drew Toby's hand up and kissed his knuckles, then turned, and approached the bear. My shoes clicked, and the bar went quiet, as I walked up. "Excuse me, I believe I misheard you. I was just having a quiet conversation with my boyfriend over there - so would you care to repeat everything you just said?" I folded my arms over my chest - standing up to bullies was something I was quite capable of. Even if one of them could easily break me over their knee. I was, if nothing else, fearless. "I said." He leaned in - and his breath smelled of tobacco and rotted teeth. Gingivitis. "You fags are disgustin', and should leave so we regular folks don't get your /taint/." "Right." I said softly. "I thought you said that. I think it's the other-way around. You should leave, and take your ugly ass out of here - so we decent folks can enjoy our evening together. Aye?" A snarl, a growl - the bouncers were moving forward, but the crowd was tight tonight on a Friday, and people wanted to watch things progress. I squeezed my hands together and began to drop them, my body weight shifting to my back foot and my face a mask that I'd worn when I was in Afghanistan. I felt tight, everything was warm. "Make me." He growled again, voice drunk with anger.
I snorted.
He swung.
I kicked.
He dropped.
After that was pretty much a blur of bodies, arms, fists, claws, and pain. It was fifteen minutes later that I caught up with myself, in my car, with Toby sitting beside me. HIs eye was black and his shirt was shredded, while I tasted blood in my mouth. I had broken a tooth - son of a whore. "Some first date." I heard Toby mutter, and couldn't help but laugh. "Your place or mine?" I asked, looking over. He cocked an ear and had a surprised look, for a few moments. And then he smiled to me, and held a look of happiness that had long been forgotten. I smiled back at him, and his hand touched mine. I noticed one of my knuckles was out of joint, but left it - there'd be time for bandaging later. Mine it was.
We sat on my couch. His shirt was off and I had applied a few simple bandages to the scratches on his chest. He had taken mine off and applied ointment near a tender area - but nothing was as bad off. He claimed I'd turned into a dervish - striking hard and fast and leaving no prisoners - even as three bouncers had come in to try and take us down. I'd knocked the bear out and two of his friends, before the fight turned into a full on brawl with someone getting thrown. Toby had drug me out of there and gotten me to my car afterwards. He said this with a bright smile - impressed that a simple vulpine could do so much damage. "Simple my fuzzy ass." I replied, while popping my knuckle back into joint with a grunt. I flexed my hand, then applied a simple dressing to keep the joint immobilized. The hyena nodded, and leaned back to look at my tail. "More fluffy from what I saw." I hit him with a pillow, and laughed myself. Still, the moment lingered and I gave him a sigh - before nodding my head. "Alright. Guess it was a lousy date - but, well, I hate bullies." I replied - and felt his hand on my knee. I laid my hand on his and squeezed softly, the scent of him warm in the air. I liked it. "Always have. Plus, I like you, Toby. I mean..." "I know." He said. He tried to withdraw his hand, but I held it there. And indeed, I leaned up, and before I could stop myself, my mouth touched his with a firm kiss, despite the ache of my teeth. I kissed him firmly, solidly, welcomingly. I kissed him with more passion than I had before. And his hand crept up to pull me into his lap, and I hugged his body while sharing breath and tongue and lips. I shared it all with him, and I didn't blush once. My tongue swirled with his and I felt him clutch to me needful, his eyes closed in bliss. It was a good kiss - it lasted and lasted, and the night went on.
It was a very nice weekend.
Monday morning I took him back to his apartment, and then drove him to school - we both driving together without sharing our joys - because though the school might have welcomed, even embraced, a gay man - it wasn't willing (Or able) to allow two male teachers to be in a relationship. His black eye got a few looks, and my bandaged hand did the same - though no one asked what went on, since we were always together during our breaks. I presume that no one wanted to ask hard questions that might complicate matters. Good for them. Coming into class, though a bit late to which I had to apologize to the class, and promise them that Friday would be 'historical movie' day. Of course, historical meant about a period of time, not necessarily accuracy. They knew I would frown on their choice - but consensus was for "The Patriot", to which I agreed - after all, I had done them wrong by being late, so it was only fair I made up for their lost time. No questions came about my wrapped hand, even from them. I caught a few glances at me though, especially from Ms. Woodmeister. She flushed and turned her head. There was no more heat scent - despite the short weekend. The class progressed well though - a good week for everyone - homework was doing well, with a few exceptions. I always took my breaks with Toby and shared lunches with him all the time - glad as I was for someone to talk to, especially someone I loved. Loved? That was a bit early to admit - someone I respected and shared good time with. While we made out, talked and kissed, we hadn't gone beyond that. I was glad he didn't pressure me. I wasn't sure I'd like to be forced into anything. We still didn't go to that bar. "So as you can see, it was because of his betrayal that he betrayed others - betrayal begets betrayal - and people hate those who betray - even if those who betray were the ones first slighted. Thus, why I feel, at least, we should pause a bit before condemning someone for their reactions." I closed the lesson out on Mr. B. Arnold, the calico who betrayed the burgeoning republic. "Appearances are not always what they seem on the first appearance, and should always be examined for veracity. So remember and consider this lesson, always." The bell rang - and it left me alone, to wait for the next class in a good fifteen, twenty minutes. It let me compose and prepare myself, as well as meditate on the homework that I'd assigned and saw brought in. I held up and looked over one of the papers, half completed and with some rather wrong information stewed on it. I frowned, looking up at Ms. Woodmeister who sat at her desk, gathering her things into her pack. Her hair had been cut recently - shorn back to her neck base - from what had been a rather (lovely) long mane to her tail. She looked up at me, her eyes dark for a moment, then a smile forced itself onto her face. I gave her a concerned look, my brows knit. "Everything okay?" "Fine." She said. She swallowed - then lowered her voice, after the quick outburst. "Everything is alright, Mr. Burwood." "Well, alright." I said, not to pry. "Can I ask what medication you took? I may have to recommend it to some of my cousins - theirs usually has a lingering effect." I broached the subject gently. She looked up at me with a frown, her mouth opening up as though to say something, then snapped shut. "I didn't use any." Oh. "Oh." I said, suddenly. "I, er, I am not trying to pry. Forgive me." "Not your fault. I shouldn't have come to school. I'm sorry for that." "It's alright." I said, standing and walking to her desk, where she looked up at me. I detected a shiver. My worry grew in the pit of my stomach. "Don't worry about it. It happens, you couldn't have predicted it." "No. I should have though. It's my fault." I had the feeling she was referring to something else, and felt my guts turn to ice. I reached down to touch her desk, then withdrew as my door opened - the talking of my next class already here. I looked back and watched the vixen recede out the door, and gave a shake of my head. I had class, and put the thoughts into the back of my mind, for later.
I mulled the idea over through dinner, only half-heartedly listening to Toby go on and on about the impact of "War and Peace" on culture through the years. That was one of his major hobbies - discussing stories and what they did, as opposed to what they meant. I'd never read the book myself, as it wasn't really my interest though it was, admittedly, a pretty damn big one. I was more into military histories and speculative fiction. Still, as Toby raved about the book, I dug into my fish, and looked down at the white wine I'd chosen. A bit more upscale than Toby liked, but he had admitted he liked scalloped onions, especially with his rare (or raw) steaks. I paid it only minor heed. The atmosphere of "The Lions Share" was really quite pleasant, in a down-country sort of way. The music was light country-rock, something by Clapton now and then. I liked Clapton. "What's been eating at you?" I heard asked. Friday was our date night, he decided. I hadn't the courage to tell him no - or, frankly, the desire. Fridays were good, we got to unwind, spend the weekends together. It was young admiration and respect, and though we didn't say it, I felt a growing bond between myself and him. No one had raised issue about our relationship since the bar. Relationship. I'd not said no - and he fighting beside me made it impossible to now. Plus, I'd already said he was mine, publicly. A Burwood never went back on his word. "Just one of my students. Her grades are slipping, and she's turning in half finished work. It's not like her, not personality or academically. Always excelled. I'm not sure about recently. I'm concerned. She was the heat-struck one." I sipped my wine and took another bite of fish. I liked fish. I preferred chicken, but, well, I /am/ a fox. "I'm worried. I might try calling home to see if everything is okay." "You could. Is she still heated? I know it lasts, what, two weeks every six months with your kind? I mean, assuming she doesn't get knocked..." He trailed off. I frowned. "She wouldn't do that. I know she's a good catholic girl. The sisters tell me she knows her saints and does the rosary every day. She has even thought of applying to be a novice in one of the nunneries. A shame, but, hey, she's the chaste virgin flower the school likes to see." "Maybe she tried to experiment. I know I was a bit of an experimenter back at her age." Toby finished his beer and covered a belch. He was crude, but in a sophisticated way. He knew manners, and could practice them better than I could - but he simply didn't really give a flying freak what others thought of him. Except for me. He liked when I told him I thought of him. "I mean, it's possible." "Maybe. I know I'm a new teacher here, but, she doesn't strike me as /that/ kind of girl." I gave Toby a look over - and the hyena nodded slowly - contemplative. He then shook his head out again - and gave me a soft chuckle. "I don't think she has even thought about it. Well, outside of..." "Maybe you should go talk to her parents. She could be having problems. A friendly care would do her a world of good. If they are close, we could swing by and give them a talk. I mean, when you finish your meal." He gave me a sympathetic pat, then reached to pull my hand to his. I held it over the table, and leaned down to kiss it - then up, to kiss him. It lasted perhaps fifteen seconds - but felt like it lasted forever. And yet, it was too quick for my tastes. "Sure. Let's head there." I said, after breaking the kiss, and savoring the taste of his mouth. I was still sober. Half a glass was legal.
Probably made in the early eighties, with large windows and sharp angles, the house of the Woodmeisters was pleasant to look at. It radiated status and wealth - the garden exquisite and the grass a Kentucky blue, probably mowed once a week in early morning. The shrubs around the house showed a trained hand, and I knew that no ordinary house-wife could handle trimming and beautifying the flowers that lined around the house. Roses. One was a peppermint striped rose, a 'Billy Rose', named after the creator. I knew flowers. I knocked on the brown oak door, and admired how it went well with the earth-tones of the house, and the dark trimming at the roof. Solar panels were on top - a good nod towards saving money and helping the planet. I liked it! A pair of green eyes looked through the window cut into the door, and then an older vixen stood, opening it, and gave me a critical glance over. "Not interested. Neither is she." The door was shut before I could say a thing. For some reason, I cracked up about it, until Toby smacked me on the back of the head. I shook my head and tried again. "What?" An angry growl - pent up aggression held under dark eyes. I stepped back involuntarily, before straightening up my tie. "I am Mr. Burwood, and this is Mr. Donahue, we are teachers at your daughter's school..." I caught the door before it could close, and held it, though the vixen snorted. Very rude girl, I frowned. "I was hoping I could speak with you and your husband about your daughter." "What did she do now?" Came a huff. I felt my face fall - from friendly to distant, armored. I didn't like her tone - I much less didn't like that angry suggestion that her daughter had done anything. "May we come inside?" Toby asked, stepping forward a bit and giving his charming smile - which was entirely full of shit, because his eyes, oh, I felt a shiver. He didn't like this woman any more than I did. "No. My daughter..." She all but spat the word. "Is grounded. If you have concerns with her behavior, send it in writing. Now get off my property." I felt a cold shiver down my back, and let go of the door, before it slammed shut in my face. I felt my guts drop, and burn, and freeze and... Toby touched me, and pulled back to his car. I sat there, and held my face in my hands. What was wrong with people?
We sat in the parking lot in front of his apartment for an hour, not saying a word. I looked out and watched the stars - feeling the burden on me, and knowing I really couldn't do anything about it. I had no legal recourse, and I, worse, had no standing. I saw hurt and pain with a brilliant student, and I was effectively neutered. Toby was wise, just letting the engine run and music play - classical, though he hated it, just for me. I was a fan of the operatic. Sue me. It was some time, as I mulled my thoughts over - and looked up at his face. I said nothing, he didn't need to be talked to, because he hugged me and held me. I hated feeling weak and worse, useless. I think he understood. He probably did understand. He led me into his apartment and had me sit on the couch, then held me, as we watched TV. It was nothing important - something to give background noise to our thoughts, and for me to work out my own issues. I was personally involved - worse, I cared too much. Just like Juvie. I shook the thought - and buried my face into the musky chest fur of Toby, and breathed in, letting the aroma pop around in my nose, and tingle my tail like nothing else could. He smelled good, even after a day of school and coaching. He smelled wonderful, giving me the thoughts of our first kiss. Even though joy was muted, it was still there, in the arms of my hyena. "Toby." "Yeah?" He asked, as I lifted my face from his chest. He had been lightly snoring - his chest rising and falling in a wonderful living rhythm. I looked up at him, and stroked my hand onto his chest for a moment. "I love you." He smiled. "I know."
"And so, with that, there are more than two causes for what started the war - but even to this day the ramifications can be felt through our entire society. The battles are still scars on the face of our nation, and the challenges of living with what the war decided still strains with states to this day. The answer to if the victory was the best thing, or not, is still up in the air. All I know is - that's our history, and we need to face what was done so long ago. Don't let it trouble you - instead, embrace it, and learn from the mistakes made. With that, know I love you all, my students, and look forward to seeing you next year. Finals week is coming - be prepared for your exams. I believe in all of you." I wore a black suit - despite the sweltering heat of May. It was the last week of learning, and amazing how fast the semester could fly by. I was always formal - and I always taught to my students with the best of my abilities. They were all excelling, flourishing, and looked to me with respect (as far as a teenager could give), and I taught them as a mentor, if never truly a friend. I cared, and I believed in them - and it showed. Only one lagged, and her green eyes had lost their luster, their life, their sense of joy. Her tail never lifted in excitement, nor did she speak with joy. I kept my lunches open to her if she needed to talk, but never did. I spent them with Toby, and held him close when not at school. He was my anchor, and I his buoy - together, we, perhaps, made a strange item, but no one made a fuss about it. After all, it was the vulpine thing to do, to shock people, I was told. I kept my focus and thanks on my beloved boyfriend. We were gossip and an item. And I really didn't care. "I want each of you to know that I've been proud of you since the first day. You are wonderful ladies, and when you leave for your adult lives, you'll do amazing. I want you all to know I will always think fondly, and be here to give advice, if you ever should need it." The class left in silence, thinking and buried in their own heads. Friends talked in the halls, but always with respect. There were, of course, the occasional fights and gossiping matches - people angry with petty vendettas, but never letting it last long. Love was an answer for these children, and they knew making life long enemies was never a good idea. I sat alone beside Ms. Burwood, the sad eyed vixen looking up at me but not saying anything. Her scent had changed over the months, and I had a suspicion of what it was, but chose, wisely, not to say anything. I just sat, looking at her, and she kept her head down, as she put her book bag on her shoulder, with a sad look at my face. I felt my heart break, and reached out to touch her, but she was gone. A scrap of paper was left for me. I picked it up, and turned it over - reading in black ink and underlined thrice.
"Thank you for being a good teacher. I'm sorry I was a bad student. Thank you for caring."
I held the note close and found my eyes blurring. I blinked them away and took a deep breath - and stood. Straightening my suit, I walked out the door, and after the vixen, whose tail was visible climbing the stairs. I made no hurry, as it would be unseemly, and climbed up to the third floor, and found her backpack laying in the hall. The click of shoes drew my attention - and I hurried after her. She didn't hear me calling out to her - climbing up a ladder, towards the roof. I raced after her, and she vaulted over the top as I hit the bottom rung. I climbed quickly - and pulled myself up, to stare at the sky, and the bright sun that hurt my eyes. It was hot up here, the white rooftop glaring, and making it hard to see for a few, long moments. But I found her, my red tailed vixen, who stood on the roof of the school and held her arms around her belly, like she were cold. "Ms. Woodmeister." I called out, and she turned, her feet touching the edge and she balanced there, watching me. Her eyes were wet, and her posture resolved. I didn't like that look. "Can I ask why you are on the roof?" She looked up at me, her eyes vacant and soul hollow. She had pain radiating from her, and not just the flesh. Something deep had broken months ago, and I held a sorry feeling in my gut because of it. She let out a long exhale, and shook her head again. "Please stay there, Mr. Burwood. I really don't need any help." She unbuttoned her blazer and let it drop - her belly was rounded, more than weight would account for that, and she was a very skinny vixen. I swallowed, my heart was cold. I didn't like where this was going. "I'll be okay. I'll be okay soon." "Please step away from the ledge, Ms. Woodmeister." I said, stepping forward, and shook myself. I was shivering. Please, no. "I really need to talk to you." "About what? Homework? It's okay. It won't matter soon. Nor will my bad grades. My mother was right, I'm just a filthy whore, and it's my fault. She's right. It's okay, I'll not pollute this school any more. I'm sure I'll burn, but they'll forgive my cub. He had no choice. Babies go to heaven, right?" "Yeah. They do." I said, stepping forward, approaching her. My shoes crunched on the white roof. "But I don't want any dead babies. Or dead vixens for that matter." "It's okay." She said, stepping back, as her heel touched the edge and empty air. I froze, my heart was racing, thundering. I was hyperventilating. Just like war - I had to save a life. I didn't want another lost friend, another memory I had to overcome. "It was my fault. I seduced him. Now I'll make it right. I'll make it better. My fault I didn't take my medicine properly." "You were in heat." I said. It clicked. "Three months ago. That's... that's what happened. Please, don't, it wasn't your fault for your biology." "My step-father was right. I wanted it, because I didn't take my medicine. Well, I'll take this medicine. I'll make it better. I'm sorry, Christina. I'm sorry, Mr. Burwood." And she leaned back, into empty air - her arms crossed. Time slowed for me, as I leapt after her - my hand reaching out to grab her - because I didn't have time to stop her fall. I grabbed her and hugged her tightly to myself, and turned, feeling gravity grip me like a cruel mistress. I leapt up and held her body as she was twisted atop me - her eyes looking into mine for those long moments. I heard a roaring in my head, and distant thunder booming, cracking off mountains. I felt her body against mine, the warm scent of life flourishing through her youthful body. I felt her hug me, hold me, clutch me, as I twisted and held her above me. She looked down, shock on her face. It lasted forever. It lasted less than five seconds. I looked up at her face, so beautiful. She was beautiful, even her broken innocence could not hide her. The ground was unyielding, the cement an uncaring mistress, as the gravitational pull only did their tasks. My head head the cement below me, and I saw stars explode before my eyes, before my back hit, and my legs crumpled, taking more of my weight than I wanted to give. Strangely, despite feeling the lurching sound of bones shattering, I felt no pain. I felt nothing, but her warmth, as I cushioned her fall with my own body. My heart hurt, and my lungs wouldn't depress. "I'm sorry." I whispered into the darkness, when darkness cracked around me. To her? To god? To myself? To Toby? To everyone.