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With Sato out of town and no sign of new jobs coming down the pipe, Arlen found himself having to make other plans. Normally, he would have been happily farting around at home, watching sports or cleaning and checking his weapons. Maybe he would have gone to the range and practiced his marksmanship if he felt up to dealing with all the other furs who hung out at those places.

All the usual day to day activities for a between-contracts 'military contractor.' Or, at least, the kind who didn't take illegal jobs while waiting for more legitimate work to come along.

These days the gym was right out. Arlen had filled one of his and Sato's spare bedrooms with exercise equipment largely because he couldn't deal with the stress of going out and spending an hour every other day surrounded by strangers. The big black tiger, muscled like a tank, had developed a bit of an agoraphobia problem. He didn't like the sensation of having people looking at him, on the admittedly unreasonable possibility that at any moment one of them could pull a weapon on him.

His last job hadn't gone so well, he grumbled to himself by way of explaining his new-found jitteriness, as he picked up the phone and dialed it. He wanted some company, and his long-time boyfriend wasn't in town to offer it. So he was dialing up his approved go-to girl, the one Sato cared for just as much as Arlen did, and had long since given Arl his permission to 'canoodle' with. Hell, it had been the wolf's idea.

Tamra's phone rang twice, before it was picked up by an answering machine. Arlen's heart sank, and with a disappointed sigh he waited for the message to finish so he could leave a message.

"Thank you for calling Delgado Private Investigation, this is Tamra Delgado's voicemail," her prim, pretty, warm voice enunciated with a professional, clipped cadence. Arlen could hear the subtle purr in her voice, the same one that gave him goosebumps every time she turned it on him. It was just one of Tamra's special little weapons.

"Hey, it's me. Call back. I uh...I'm looking for things to do tonight, and figured I'd invite you over for dinner or something. Yeah. Bye."

Smooth, Arl, he thought to himself, while slapping a paw over his face as he hung up the phone. Fucking Casanova...

A soft noise made his ears perk, and in an instant the big black tiger went from embarrassedly chastising himself to checking his angles and going for the nearest weapon. From right off the coffee table, he plucked his go-to pistol, an old M1911, checked its ammunition and un-safetied the weapon by long-practiced rote.

Then he pressed his shoulder up against a wall and listened, his heart thumping steadily to move blood to his battle-ready body. No further noises rang into his alert, perked ears, so either whoever was nearby was being stealthy or had just stopped moving. Or, he acknowledged, he might just have heard an animal outside and be going a little crazy with post-operation nerves.

Then a soft clunk from the front door told him his suspicions weren't entirely for nothing. Ducking low so as not to be seen through the windows, he stalked toward the front entry hall, silent like a ghost, pistol held at the ready. A consummate professional, Arlen didn't waste time wondering who it could be or why they were here, or even how they'd found Sato's place. All of that could wait for after the confrontation every fiber of his being told him was coming.

When the lock clicked open, he breathed out all the tension that had been mounting, and readied himself for the lightning-fast violence that had saved him so many times in the past.

The door opened a bit faster than he was expecting; normally the whole point of jimmying a lock was to enter silently. Arlen didn't wait for it to open fully, instead seizing the initiative by rushing forward, delivering a hard boot to the front side of the door to throw it wide as he reached out and grabbed the incoming person. If there were a stack of enemies coming through the door, he could use the first as a shield.

Grabbing the intruder by the shirt, he yanked them back into the house's gloom and wrapped a muscular arm up under the fur's throat, tightening his grip by long-practiced reflex as his weapon paw covered the door. Normally, he would have pressed the pistol to his captive's head to hit home the point of not struggling, but Arlen noticed in a quick scan that this fur wasn't armed.

Then he slowed down enough to realize the barely-struggling fur had a really nice rack. A very familiar very nice rack.

Also a key.

And a bag of groceries.

Shit. Oops.

Tamra quirked a brow at him, looking up with her chin nestled against the inside of his elbow. He'd put her in just the right spot to choke her into near-instant unconsciousness. Luckily, Arlen hadn't yet chosen to do so, mostly because instinct told him a limp enemy was a less useful shield than one who was standing on their own power.

Now he almost wished he had. The big black tiger grin-grimaced and let her go with an apologetic shrug.

"Fuck, Tam, sorry...I heard someone scratchin' at the door and..."

She snorted at him as she turned away, rubbing the back of her neck with a paw that still held her keychain. Then she thrust the grocery bag out at him.

"Ever hear of turning the porch light on, you big ass? I scratched around because I couldn't find the lock!"

He gingerly, apologetically took the bag, glancing down to see it full of fresh foods. She'd come over planning to cook for him, the big tiger realized, and gave her a chagrined look over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

"Shit, sorry..."

Her glower had just the slightest hint of a curl at the edges, like a grin was working its way through the annoyance of having been nearly choked out. Arlen knew better than to stop and look, though he desperately wanted to spend some time just staring into her quirky collection of special expressions.

Five minutes later, the fridge was stocked with enough for two meals' worth of food, and Arlen was looking at it with a puzzled expression as he worked out the subtext of what Tamra was up to. Speculation that was rendered useless when she wrapped her arms around his muscular waist, pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and whispered with a purring grin.

"So, for almost choking me out, you owe me a date."

"A...As in a go-out-somewhere date?" he whispered back with trepidation, as chill air blew from the still-open fridge. She knew damn well how jittery the city could make him. Too many potential threats.

"Don't worry, I already did the recon," Tam reassured him, grinning as she patted him on the shoulder while whirling away. "Now go get dressed up, we're headed out."

An hour later, Arlen was dressed up in his nicest suit, handing his keys off to a valet, and giving the Harbor Room an appraising scan. He was also feeling more naked than he would if he actually were in the buff, since Tam had only let him bring a single firearm, and had insisted it go in her purse.

At least, since the restaurant was inside the ground floor of a high-rise hotel, it had a covered rotunda entrance, which would help to shield the front entry from snipers. Not that they were likely, he had to remind himself. Once again, the big tiger reminded himself that he wasn't in Mogadishu or Sao Paolo.

Next to him, the much shorter feline who was his date fairly glimmered in her sleek silver dress. She also elbowed him with a laugh, crinkling her little button nose.

"Oh c'mon, tiger. I promise you, nobody here is going to give you any trouble. Just play it cool."

Arlen straightened up, pushed his shoulders back like he was in uniform, and offered Tamra his arm, which she took with a pretty grin. His expression was studiously neutral, as he quirked a brow at her.

"For you, Tam. Only reason I'm doin' this is for you."

"That's why it's special, Arl. Whole point of a date is to show me you care," she reminded, playfully elbowing him with the arms he had linked into the crook of his elbow. The black tiger snorted and rolled his eyes at her.

"I thought the point of a date was to spend money on a girl so she'd put out?"

She'd balled a fist and was about to hit him, when Arlen stuck his tongue out at her, showing he was joking. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek with deceptive gentleness for a tiger of his size.

"I do love you, Tamra Delgado. Even when you're a serious pain in the ass."

Twenty minutes later, the two cats sat across from one another, plates gently clinking as they cut up a pair of fine rare steaks. The chat was light, the wine rich, and the candlelight intimate. Tamra's tail lashed in amusement as she watched Arlen's knifework, as the big tiger tried self-consciously to hold things the right way.

"Too much time hunting in the jungle, Arl. You're holding it like a combat knife."

He glanced up at her with a snort, and kicked her foot gently with his own, hidden under their booth's table skirt. Then he stuck his tongue out at her and jabbed his knife's tip into a thick piece of meat. As she raised both eyebrows, he brought the speared bit of meat up to his maw, chomped it, and chewed with a grin.

"God you are such a barbarian," she laughed, while far more daintily sectioning and nibbling her food.

"Yeah, and you love it," he responded, while tapping her foot again with his own. She responded by smirking and letting her high-heel slide off her foot, before raising it up to trace along his inner thigh.

Arlen's raised eyebrow made her chuckle, and the calico's smile grew more mischievous. A moment later, her bare footpaw was against his crotch, pressing against the impressive bulge hidden by thin suit pants. The black tiger sucked in a breath and almost inhaled a piece of his steak, managing to swallow it before coughing and reaching for his water. Tamra kept her toes right against his bulge, playing them against his package with the naughtiest look he thought he'd ever seen on her face.

Years ago, when they'd first met, Tam had been a 20-something year old virgin who'd been largely sheltered from anything naughty, sexual, or even all that adventurous. Now, the dainty calico was sitting there, prim and pretty as could be to all who looked her way, while quickly making his cock tingle and slide out of his sheath with her caresses. That she could do so without showing it at all in her face, not even a hint of a blush, was just another of the surprising things about Tam Delgado. Just one more reminder that nothing with her was ever what it seemed.

Arlen growled playfully, and shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, while reaching for the wine and her glass.

"If I'm a savage barbarian, then you're Delilah. Jesus, woman," he muttered, while leaning to pour her a new glass of wine. Her devilish smile was plenty answer enough; he knew she wasn't going to stop. Arlen didn't really mind, though. The easy sexual openness between them had taken a lot of work, but was worth every moment of effort.

She licked her chops, though her meal was mostly done, and then chewed her lower lip like it was a delicious dessert. The sight made Arlen growl, low in his chest, the very masculine sort of rumble that was as much a statement of intent as anything.

The women's restroom attached to the restaurant was perfect, in Tamra's mind. Small, with just two artfully decorated stalls, a blue marble double sink set, and fine rich wood paneling, it felt more like the master suite of an upscale home than a commercial bathroom. What's more, the restaurant had two sets of such rooms, male and female, so there was no line. She had the room to herself.

Trotting up to the vanity, Tamra smiled at herself, pleased by the amused expression on her pretty calico face. Tonight was going well, and just going to get better. She'd just finished washing her paws, more a habit than a necessity, when the bathroom's dark wooden door eased itself open and allowed the startlingly stealthy bulk of one Arlen Blacktiger into the lady's room.

They hadn't needed to discuss tactics for this. Tam had entered first, since her presence wouldn't raise any alarms, and checked to make sure nobody else was using the restroom. Arl followed when she didn't give a wave-off signal, and was now locking the restroom door behind himself. His quick glance left and right wasn't a sign he didn't trust her, just a sign that he was a professional. Even the best sets of eyes missed things sometimes, so it was best for all team members to double-check.

The fact that they were going to fuck in a fancy restaurant's bathroom, and were treating it like a covert operations mission made Tamra laugh, and tingle between her thighs as she twisted around and pulled herself backwards up onto the vanity while kicking off her high heels.

With a grace of motion that seemed impossible for his muscular, bulky body, Arlen grabbed up the two heeled shoes and slid them gently back onto her dainty feet. His grin was hungry, and as he leaned in and nibbled the inside of her thigh, pushing up Tamra's skirt, he whispered against her downy fur.

"Keep the heels on, beautiful kitty."

Then, as he dragged his rough tongue up her inner thigh, sending thrills up Tamra's body, Arlen reached up to unzip the back of her dress and start the ever so well-loved process of unwrapping Tamra's stunning athletic form.

She purred like a motor, shivering and chewing her lip as he nibbled at her, curried her fur, slurped roughly at the juncture between thigh and hip. Her dress was unzipped with deft grace despite large, calloused fingers, and in moments she was helping him slip her out of it, pulling the thing up her body and over her head.

When her face was fully covered in dress, her arms snarled, Arlen smirked and trailed his paws up her body. She fumbled it, as he guessed she would, when his paws pushed her bra up and off a pair of wonderfully perky breasts and went to immediate work pinching and strumming her hard pink nipples. The squeak that issued muffled from inside the dress was music to him, and he conducted it with strokes and swirls of his fingertips, even as he used his teeth to grab hold of her panties and start tugging them down.

Just as cool air hit her sopping wet thighs, his muzzle planted against her delicate petal, and Tamra gasped with lust in her clothy prison, even as her tail lashed about and slapped the countertop. With Tamra splayed out like that, beautifully naked from neck to ankles, Arlen rumbled out a deep, basso purr of pleasure with the view, and then buried his face in her dripping, deliciously musky folds.

By the time Tam had managed to marshal enough control to finish removing her dress, Arlen had nearly driven her mad with desire. He knew all her buttons, how gripping her athletic butt gave her a thrill of pleasure, how to slide his raspy tongue along her sopping entrance to keep it quivering, how to play her clit like a fine instrument to make the slender cat squirm and gasp in pleasure.

As he felt her start to shiver and watched the muscles of her inner thighs begin to clench, Arlen grinned, purred, and flopped his thick black tiger tail against the floor tiles as she grabbed his round, soft-furred ears. When her thighs started to shiver just so, and she started trying to squeeze his head with them involuntarily, Arlen grinned up at Tamra and pulled his muzzle back, slurping the wetness off his chin fur.

Her eyes flickered back open, hot and heavy with orgasm nearly-achieved, and turned into a dulled glare. Arlen just grinned happily back at her, flapped his tail again, and dove back in.

Tam had to bite her paw to keep from screaming as her release took over, jittering across her body like the waves of a wind-struck pond. Arlen watched raptly as the muscles of her stomach clenched and unclenched, in a wave-like rhythm, as her paws twitched, and as her lips curled into a pleasured grimace. The trembling against his tongue was a sweet symphony all its own, far more musical to his eyes than the restaurant's soft muzak-style classical music was to his ears.

When she finally came down, slouched with her bare back against the mirror, perky breasts slightly glistening with perspiration, Tamra managed a soft growl in her voice.

"What about you?" she murmured. The murmur turned to a soft squeak of surprise as Arlen grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over, putting her bare breasts against the cool granite of the vanity's countertop.

In the mirror, crisp and clean as it was, she could see every detail. Arlen was a massive, terrifying dark shadow behind her, a black on charcoal-black tiger more visible because of his suit than his body. Despite that, she could make out the powerful muscles that roiled under his skin like steel cord, as he unbuttoned his shirt and folded it over a towel bar. Tiny scars, little white dabs in his dark as night pelt, were a roadmap of the battles he'd been through over the years.

Some of those scars he'd gotten protecting her. Others he'd gotten while fighting, killing, on jobs she'd sent him out on.

When his pants were open and shucked off, quickly followed by his silk boxers, Tamra saw what she was really looking for. Licking her lips wantonly as she spread her legs for him, she eyed the steely bulk of his shaft. Tapered slightly at the tip, feline spines well-defined and almost shivering in anticipation, she imagined it being the perfect representation of all a tiger's cock should be.

His paws, heavy and calloused, took grasp of her hips with a gentleness that still amazed her at times, as he lined himself up. Wordlessly, he pressed his tip against her aching entrance, and leaned down over her, smiling and meeting eyes with her reflection, a look of victory written on his face.

She couldn't think of any reaction but to playfully stick her tongue out at him. Then moan, thankfully rather softly for the sake of their cover, as his hips pistoned forward and filled her in one long, powerful thrust. Arlen released one of her hips with a paw, and brought it up to clench down on her shoulder, as he growled in dominance and let her feel the prick of teeth against her shoulder.

It was a game, an act they both enjoyed, and it sent thrills through her body that met halfway up with those forced from her clenching tunnel as he speared it again, with that rolling thrust he knew would hit all of her internal buttons.

Tam clenched her jaw through a grunting gasp of pleasure as he finally hilted himself, heavy balls swinging like a pendulum and banging like a bell clapper against her crotch. Her jangled clit felt like it was writhing, as it let off a wave of sudden, surprising orgasm that had Tamra digging her claws fruitlessly against the bathroom countertop.

Then the big tiger started thrusting, pounding away at her, muscular hips moving at a quick, staccato rhythm perfected with years of on again off again flings and booty-calls. Sato had even given hints and pointers here and there, observing their lovemaking like a connoisseur of fine entertainment, or perhaps a perverted cheerleader.

As Tam was coming down from her third big explosion, she felt Arlen stiffen, grunt, and slam his hips into hers. His chest, powerful and sculptured, roadmapped with scars, pressed against her back. Inside, she could feel the potent jolts of creamy tiger cum as it flooded her quivering depths to overflowing.

When he was finally done, she was dripping on the floor between both their legs. Arlen grunted, puffed, and reached for a paper towel dispenser.

"Ngh...Not so bad, going out, huh Arl?" she whisped out, breezily, with her cheek resting on the thankfully clean counter. A flick of her tail tugged deliciously on the walls of her parted hole, reminding her of just how filled his body made her feel. How complete.

The tiger chuckled, as he slowly pulled out of her, and began cleaning up the evidence of their little 'covert operation.'

"Yeah, not a bad date," he mused, purrs rebounding off the restroom walls, "but we haven't made it to extraction yet. That maitre'd was starting to look a little hostile."

"Heh, he's hostile because you look like a bad tipper."

"What, me?"

"Yeah, you."

He laughed, and leaned down, nuzzling the noodley calico's neck, much to her purring pleasure. Then their lips were locked together, even as he lifted her from the countertop and turned her slowly around. She groaned softly, pleasantly exhausted by their carnal antics, though it had not been quite the marathon fucking sessions of years past.

"Let's get you back in costume, Tam. Then let's get outta here. I ain't done with you yet."

She blinked at him, momentarily surprised.

"Wh-what?"

His wicked smirk sent shivers through the fixer's naked body, shivers of lust and anticipation, and the tiniest bit of delicious fear from just how sinister he could look.

"Hey. Date night was your idea. I'm just makin' sure the job's done right."