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THE NEW GRIND - Part Two

By Stormcatcher

Diedre really came through for me. The new bed felt fantastic, and for $400, that's pretty damn much what I expected. All the tossing and turning I did in the weeks to follow had absolutely nothing to do with my designer bedding, which pissed me off all the more-because I knew that if I still wasn't so shaken up over the breakup, I'd be sleeping like a rock.

The good news was that my handful of friends and drinking buddies, bless them every one, were true blue to me when they found out what happened. Charlie was the first. He gave me a call after I'd skipped four Sunday beer busts in a row, which is fairly rare for me. My awkward silence told him everything he needed to know, and mercifully, he didn't press for details. He told me that I knew how to reach him if I needed anything, and that he was gonna give me a month to grieve a little and try to get Rich out of my system-but after that, if I still hadn't shown up at the bar, he was gonna come looking for me. When I finally did show up, he and my other buds each gave me a hug, then Charlie bought me a beer, and we all sat down on the back patio and talked about the start of football season. No jeers. No ranting or raving against Richie, no disapproving shakes of their heads....and most importantly of all, not a single "I told you so" was heard from any of them. It's not easy in this world to find folks that know when to offer comfort, and when to just shut their pie holes and treat some things as business as usual, and lemmee tell ya....those guys at that moment meant more to me than a winning lottery ticket.

Very, very slowly, I started getting back to my old routine. Work, grocery shop, laundry, cooking, paying the bills, hitting the bar on Sunday afternoons and sometimes after work... although I noticed a mild shift in my behavior towards my usual haunts. I suddenly found that I wasn't as interested in hanging out at the gay bars so much anymore. For whatever reason, I found that I would still occasionally catch the eye of some little Pixie piece of fluff, and sure as the sun would rise, he'd come flouncing over to introduce himself to me. And try as I did, every single time, I couldn't help but see Richie's face as I stared at them and listened to them talk. I was getting over Rich, but I also knew that being around someone that reminded me too much of him would be a really bad idea, especially since the more cruel, sadistic side of me challenged my subconscious to get me to drag these twinks home and treat them like total shit. Even if these flakes were almost exactly like Richie, and I had no idea of knowing if they were right off the bat-there was no need for me to sink to his level and prove him right for leaving me by being a jerk.

So to avoid any potential uncomfortable behavior on my part, I began to hit some of the more mainstream hetero bars. Most of them were a bit more upscale than I liked, but the drinks and food were good, and it was nice to be able to sit alone and enjoy my beer in peace without having to worry about being interrupted by someone looking for a sugar daddy. The very few women that I attracted tended to be on the heavy side, which has always been the norm for me for reasons that I think even the most brilliant minds in sociological and psychological science have yet to figure out. But even they weren't a problem, really; I would make polite conversation with them, tell them outright that I was gay if they acted like they didn't have a clue, and see how they reacted. The ones that were perfectly okay with it got a drink, a warm smile, and all the funny anecdotes and lighthearted conversation they were willing to put up with. The ones that gave me a look of disgust would get a polite apology for offending them with my presence, and a most sincere wish from me that someday, they would marry a non-stereotypical gay male who happened to be in the closet, and that they wouldn't find out what a mistake they'd made till they caught their husband in bed with another guy. The look of shock or pure insult on their faces after I would tell them that always made it worth the price of admission, although it always almost made me feel sorry for them when I considered how good the chances were of my "curse" on them coming true. I've always found it somewhat pathetic that some of the sexier men that've cruised me via eye contact or a subtle lewd groin gesture in public also came complete with a ring on their finger and nine times out of ten, a fat-assed housewife in tow, and usually not more than a few feet away. If I could be that good an actor, my problems would be solved. I'd move to Hollywood and really start to live it up.

I discovered to my dismay that I hated being stuck in my apartment for extended periods of time. Before Richie, I could've taken almost a whole week's vacation and only have left my apartment to hit the gym or the grocery store, and I would've been perfectly happy with that. But now, I would look around at my meager material possessions, think about Richie's parting shot to me, and I'd wonder if this would be the best I'd ever be able to do for myself. I couldn't face it. It was no big deal during the week when I usually had to go to bed early anyway, but on weekends, it really sucked to be in that place. So I'd usually either go stroll through the mall or more often than not, find a dive bar and have a few drinks. It wasn't the greatest of solutions, and I kept wondering in the back of my mind what would happen when I ran out of local bars to explore.

Every once in a great while, and mind you, it doesn't happen nearly often enough-fate will decide to toss you a break. Apparently, the powers of chance that be decided a good five months after the breakup that they had taken their fill of shitting on my head, and they ended the misery long enough to bring someone into my life that would show me how joyful life could really be, if you only open yourself up to it. And ironically enough, that certain someone wasn't another male.

There was a particular little hole in the wall that I'd started to hit up on Tuesday nights because they had half-off drink specials, and a karaoke happy hour. I had just come out of the restroom during a lull between singers and came back to the bar, where I ordered a refill on my beer and perked my ears to the sound of a Patsy Cline tune. I'm not real big on country music, but I'd always had a soft spot in my heart for Patsy. Maybe it's just a gay thing, but I found myself smiling at the jukebox as I listened to her croon. It took me a few minutes and nearly half my beer before I realized that it wasn't the jukebox, at all. The karaoke session had started back up, and the voice I heard singing was coming from the karaoke stage in the next room. But that VOICE! I whipped my head around in wonder and awe, my jaw gaping open. It sounded exactly like her. Whoever it was on stage had either just been possessed by Patsy's spirit, or Patsy herself had apparently decided to follow Elvis's lead and come back from the dead. I craned my neck trying to get a look at whoever was belting out the song, but it seemed that most of the bar's patrons had crowded around the stage, and I could only make out the tops of what looked like two long white rabbit ears just barely poked up over the rest of the heads mobbing the front of the throng. I slid off my bar stool and made my way into the crowd, determined to get a look at her.

The rabbit ears that I'd seen turned out to be attached to a fairly tall, somewhat Rubinesque-looking female lapine with sleek white fur and pretty brunette hair. Her eyes were a mischievous but loving blue, and she had a pretty face that was accentuated nicely by makeup that wasn't overdone. Even her physique reminded me of Patsy, which explained where she got the lungpower to hit the longer and higher notes. She was a little plump-not fat, but proportionate to her height with a little extra-and given the abundance of her bosoms, she might have gotten a few family genes donated by Dolly Parton. She was dressed simply but tastefully in a beige long length skirt with matching business style jacket and a cream yellow wool turtleneck sweater under that, and a pair of low-cut leather boots adorned her feet. Her smile was pristinely white, but oddly enough, no buckteeth; and her nose and whiskers didn't even seem to twitch as she sang, taking a few leisurely steps around on the stage as she worked her crowd.

And work us, she did.

The thing I'd always liked about the real Patsy's music was that she got the pain right. Her soulful lyrics had always given me pause even as I would be humming along with them, or just listening quietly, and a part of me almost felt guilty in an odd way for never having suffered the heartaches that surely she must have endured. But now that I had, I found that her lyrics impacted me on an entirely new level, and as I stood there that night with the crowd and stared at this lapine lady, utterly mesmerized, I realized that my eyes were starting to tear up a little. I blinked and swallowed long enough to get myself under control, and I willed myself into trying to receive the music more passively. It worked, but just barely-and for the duration of her number, I don't think that there was a single person in that audience with me that could've closed their eyes and convinced themselves that this gal was not the genuine article. Despite the sadness of the song, the rabbit femme's eyes were caring and warm, and her smile was as sincere as the afternoon sun as she demurely held the microphone cord away from her feet and sauntered leisurely back and forth across that stage. She didn't stand still, because she couldn't-her audience needed her. At that moment, we were all lovelorn, and we needed our Patsy to shrink us down into the palm of her hand and cuddle us against her cheek. I saw her gaze flicker all about as she crooned to us, making eye contact with several people in the crowd as they stared back at her with the same awestruck adoration that I was.

I felt her music flowing through my body and making me feel warm and serene despite my sadness, and I almost didn't want it all to end...but end, it must have, because I literally jumped a little a moment later when I was shaken out of my reverie by the explosion of thunderous applause. Up on stage, our surrogate Patsy smiled happily at us all and blew us a kiss, then replaced the mike into its stand as she stepped down into the crowd to receive the many pats on the back, hugs, and praise that her bar friends lavished on her. I clapped hard, as well, my face still a bit dazed and my expression obviously still dumbstruck, because I could still feel my jaw hanging open a little bit. And what was worse, I could see her coming my way, and try as I might, I couldn't get my booted feet to move. I was rooted to the spot by a sudden goofy kind of paralysis, and despite my preferences, I found myself getting as dry in the mouth and as tongue-tied as she came nearer than I would've if I'd planned on asking her to go to senior prom with me.

She stepped towards me, temporarily distracted as her head turned to the side to laugh and snug one of her many admirers with one of her arms, and only when she noticed that someone was standing in her way did she fixate those sparkling blue eyes on me, her mild puzzlement rapidly replaced with a benevolent smirk of amusement. She raised one of her hands palms-up and gently took hold of my chin, nudging it carefully upwards until my lips closed together softly, and she chuckled softly as she gave me a flirty wink and murmured to me with a low southern drawl as pure as honey and molasses and twice as leisurely, "You best lift that bottom lip back into place, honey, before a fly decides to take a vacation down your windpipe!"

And that was how I met the divine Miss Delores "Dee" Rayburt, the one and only.

Despite her action, I felt my jaw bobbling open and closed again a few times as I tried to stammer out some form of praise for her singing skills without sounding like a total dweeb, and I have to say that I blew it completely. I pointed a fingerclaw at the stage, then at her, and generally sounded and felt like I was trying to gargle a muzzle full of socks before I finally facepalmed and groaned out my frustration at my shyness. Dee only laughed and gave my forearm a good-natured pat, and I slowly looked back at her with a bashful grin on my face as I finally found my voice. "Ma'am...!" I gasped. "That was...that was... THE most incredible singing I've heard in I can't remember when!" I found myself placing my fingers onto her own forearm and rumbling to her, "Listen, not to be forward or weird or anything-but I'd really love to buy you a drink. If your boyfriend or husband is around, I'll be glad to buy him one, too. It'd be a pleasure to tell him what an incredible singer he's with, if he doesn't hear that on a regular basis already."

Her eyes widened a bit and her brows raised, but her smile told me how flattered she was. "WELL, now...!" she murmured, that delicious drawl of hers making my tail curl in gleeful delight, "I reckon I can't turn down such a nice offer from such a handsome gentleman like you, and as for my husband or boyfriend..." she winked at me, then slid her arm around one of my elbows in a disarming manner, waggling the hand that should have borne her wedding ring at me to show me that her fingers were quite bare, "...since he don't exist, you can just buy that second drink for me anyway and I'll finish it off for him with the proper phantom respect."

I blinked at her, ears perking...then laughed richly, leaning my head back and letting the sound out as I marveled at how purely good it felt to be gleeful again, even if just for a few moments. I patted her fingers with mine as we turned and headed for the bar, the crowd dispersing some as the emcee gave Dee high praise for her performance before announcing the next singer. Before we took our seats on adjacent barstools, she looked up at the ballcap I happened to be wearing, and she noted the logo for the Atlanta Falcons on it. She pointed at it and she narrowed one eye at me conspiratorially as she said, "Hey, the Falcons! You wouldn't happen to be from Atlanta-way, would you?" She gave me another grin and a playful nudge in my side as she remarked, "When they made it to the Super Bowl, did you wanna make like I did and just curl up and go into a COMA in disbelief?"

That clinched it. An incredible singer, AND an occasional football-watcher, too! If I hadn't been gay, I think I might've proposed to her on the spot. But after we introduced ourselves more formally, we settled into chatting and wiled away the next four hours buying each other drinks and talking about everything under the sun. The more I talked with her, the more I realized what incredible charisma and charm she had-but there was something about her demeanor that only hinted at other things, too. It struck me right away that here was a woman who didn't just grab life by the balls-she'd threaten to twist 'em if life didn't sing along with her just the way she wanted it to, and life wouldn't even realize that it was being threatened with torture, because it'd be having such a good time with her company. She loved to drink, smoke, dance, and talk, and I was hardly surprised that our conversation was interrupted multiple times by men and women already in the bar who would come up to her with a hug and a greeting. She was fascinating, and that spark of vibrance in her eyes as she looked at me both melted me to the core, but also made me wonder with some trepidation if she was starting to see me as potential date material, or if it was just the beer-goggles talking. We ended up closing the bar down that night, and as I walked her out to her SUV, I began to feel the teeth-clenching flutter of panic in my stomach. I knew I had to tell her the truth, because at that moment, I just couldn't bear to deceive her in any way, even if she wasn't interested in dating me at all. And for some odd reason, I was suddenly desperate for her approval. I wanted this woman to like me, and I wanted to spend many, many more nights with her just laughing, drinking, and talking, just as we'd done that evening. I held off as long as I could, but after I closed the driver's side door and she rolled the window down so she could say goodbye, I looked down shyly at my feet and finally rumbled, "Look, Delores...."

"Dee," she immediately corrected me, her voice sweet but insistent. "Ain't nobody calls me by my full first name but tax collectors, sugar."

I nodded at that and smirked a bit, then continued. "Heh, alright! Dee, I, uhh... I really had a great time talking with you, tonight, and I'd love it if we could do this again real soon....but there's something I kinda think I should tell you, and I'm really kinda worried that you might not approve."

She cocked her head at me a bit, her graceful ears curving up a bit against the underside of her vehicle's roof, and shrugged. "Won't know till ya spit it out at me, darlin'. But I think that you'll find that I don't shock too easy. A gal can't let herself be TOO fainthearted, if'n she's gonna be from Virginia."

I nodded again, then bit my bottom lip, only then able to bring my eyes back up to meet hers. "All right," I rumbled quietly. "Dee, I just....wanted you to know that I'm.... I'm gay."

She stared at me, then, her own lips parted in a look very similar to the one I'd given her after her number was over and she'd so gently nudged my muzzle closed hours earlier. "You're gay," she repeated, her voice flat. Then she arched a brow and leaned an arm out her window to point a tastefully-lacquered fingernail at me as she said, "Do you mean to tell me, then, that I won't be able to seduce you with my lasciviously supreme feminine southern-girl wiles and drag your handsome carcass back to my place and get you to ravish me in my boudoir till my bed frame breaks and we both end up gasping for breath and wondering if we didn't sprain our collective genitalia?"

I blinked stupidly at her, my eyes widening as I surely must have looked as dumb-yokel as I felt, and I pressed a hand to the back of my neck and rubbed it nervously as I licked my lips and twitched my whiskers wildly. "Uhhhhhh.....I g-guess....not?"

She gave me a stern look for as long as she could hold it, then she leaned her head back and burst into a peal of hearty, yet still appealingly petite laughter as her shoulders and bosoms hitched in appreciation. I felt my brows furrowing in puzzlement and maybe a bit of aggravation as I tried to make sense of her reaction, and after she calmed down a bit, she patted my shoulder and smiled at me. "Oh, Donny, I'm just jerkin' your chain! Honey, no offense, but I knew that you were queer as a three-dollar bill in less than thirty minutes of talkin' to ya."

I blinked again, my muzzle dropping open once more in surprise and maybe a little bit of indignance. "Whaaat?" I gasped. "Geez, did I....did I do something stereotypically flaming, or something?"

Dee chuckled again and shook her head. "Not a'tall, sugar-it's just that when a gal like me gets to have a couple hours of conversation with a genuinely nice fella like yourself without making some kind of half-assed disguised reference at getting me in bed-and even more impressive, the fact that you actually looked at my FACE while we talked, instead of these--..." she murmured, as she pointed at her breasts, then shrugged, "....Well... a gal with a brain that works is gonna start puttin' two n' two together, y'know what I mean?"

I stared at her, then chuckled lowly as I shook my head and rubbed one of my cheekruffs in a bit of a relieved daze. "Well, for what it's worth....if those big bazoombas weren't enough to convert me, then I know I must be doomed to permanent homo status." I grinned.

She smirked at me as she lifted her hand and placed that fingerpad of hers directly onto my nose, and said, "Be that as it may, you ain't getting off the hook THAT easy!" she winked. "I fully expect you to make up for this only mildly disappointing revelation by taking me out to dinner at a place that'll impress me enough to put my pantyhose to curling."

I laughed at that. "Miss Dee, you are ON!" We exchanged numbers, and as we waved goodbye to each other, I walked back to my truck with a dopey grin on my face and the definitive feeling that I'd just met someone who was going to be a real adventure to be around.

******

I made good on my promise to take Dee out to dinner the next Thursday evening. We went to a cozy little Italian-style eatery close to downtown called "Capromatti's", a place that has prices a bit above burger and fry fare, but hefty, paisano-worthy portions to go along with the image, and their dress code doesn't require a suit and tie-so even schlubs like me can eat there. Their menu is also wonderfully diverse, with enough variations of fare for predators and herbivores alike to almost tempt both groups into test-sampling each other's selections. Dee and I finished off a great bottle of wine, savored our food and the conversation, and had such a great time that we agreed to make getting together for dining out at least a biweekly experience, if not more often.

Each time we went out, Dee drove home my initial impression of her image as a confident, devil-may-care woman as being completely on target, but as we mutually indulged each other in our shared predilection for dive bars, I also discovered how wondrously wise she was, in her own home-spun kind of way. There is something about a country-raised woman, especially if she is imbued with a generous amount of common sense, that doesn't allow even the small things to slip by unnoticed. I knew that eventually, I'd end up telling her about what happened with Richie, whether I wanted to or not-and although I wasn't particularly looking forward to it, I found that I wasn't dreading it, either. It was kind of ironic, in a way; I got the feeling that she was almost waiting until she was ready to hear me tell her about it, as opposed to me deciding the moment for myself.

That moment finally came a few months later when we got together again for one of our usual biweekly dinner outings. It was early October, just cool enough to require a jacket or light coat-but there was still enough daylight outside when we got together that we decided to work up more of an appetite and get some fresh air by taking a stroll around Lake Calhoun. The lake is located near central uptown of our 'burg, and that area is bustling with trendy eateries, museums, and fashion boutique stores-but the walking area around the lake itself is quite peaceful and lined with trees, all of which were sporting brilliant and varying hues of vibrant autumn colors as their leaves changed over in preparation for winter. We'd had some rain earlier in the week, so that scent mingled with the fallen leaves to make that earthy, reassuring smell I love so much about fall. Dee and I sloughed our way through the occasional difts of fallen colored leaves in our path as we walked around the circumference of the lake, listening to the lapping of the slight waves against the boat docks nearby and the laughing of the children in the playground areas that we passed.

We didn't say much because we didn't need to. Dee clearly had an aspect of our friendship down pat that some of my beer drinking buddies did, too: sometimes, to properly appreciate an environment, all you have to do is shut up and let your ears and nose do what come naturally. We had made our way almost completely around the lake when we decided to park our asses on one of the benches situated next to the footpath for a bit. The cool autumn breeze gently ruffled our ears and whiskers, and we both inhaled deeply and savored its smell-and as I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me, my mind meandered back towards thoughts of Rich. I kept my expression as passive as possible as I opened my eyes and stared out over the water, and I could sense Dee glancing over at me with her blue eyes casually scanning my innermost thoughts. She slid her gloved hands into her jacket pockets and stared down at her lap for a moment or two, then she looked back at me again and gave my right shoulder a gentle nudge with her left one.

"So what's knockin' around in your noggin, sugar?" she murmured.

I turned my head to look back at her, puzzled. "Hunh?"

She smiled and chuckled a little. "What's on yer mind? You been starin' out over that water like it's done hypnotized you, or something. You feelin' all right?"

I lowered my ears a bit and smiled slowly at her, also chuckling softly to try to throw her off guard as I cursed myself inwardly for letting my defenses slip. "Oh! Yeah, Dee, I'm fine. Just enjoying the company, the scents, and the scenery, that's all. Sorry, didn't mean to zone out on you."

Dee studied my face thoughtfully for a moment, her gaze benevolent but at the same time telling me wordlessly that she didn't believe me for a minute. "Hmm. Well, alrighty, then, if you're sure. I just thought I'd ask, 'cause you were wearin' the same kinda face I used to wear when I'd get to feelin' blue thinkin' about why my ex-husband left me."

I grimaced openly, my face feeling heated and my eyes clenching tightly shut for a moment as I marveled at her ability to read me so well. I sighed and opened my eyes slowly, then panned my stare back at her as I gave her a glum look, my tail twitching fitfully against the bench behind us.

"Are you psychic?" I rumbled to her. "You must be. You got your own infomercial and hotline number, don'tcha?" I smirked a little, in spite of myself. "So how much do I owe ya for this consultation?"

She laughed warmly, and patted my hand. "Dinner and a beer! But since you were gonna do that anyway, I reckon I can tell ya my secret-and it ain't really much of a secret. You spend as much time in dive bars talkin' to bartenders and other folks as I have, honey, and you just get to where you can pick up on the vibes." She stared at me a bit longer, and her smile faded just a bit. "We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. But something in your face tells me it must've been pretty rough."

I nodded and sighed, then frowned as I looked into my own lap, my tail feeling like it was in slow motion mode behind me. "It wasn't too fun, no. Not something I'm in any hurry to repeat." Then a notion about what she said struck my subconscious, and my brows furrowed a bit as I looked up in stronger surprise, peering at her sharply. "Waitasec. Did I just hear you right?" I asked, frowning as I pointed at her. "Did you just tell me that your ex husband left YOU, as opposed to vice-versa?" I stared at her in open-muzzled shock for a moment before I rumbled lowly, "I know that I don't know this guy from squadoo, but was he crazy? Or did he just have a death wish?"

Dee was actually able to chuckle softly at that, taking my words as the mildly backwards compliment I meant for them to be. She shook her head a bit and said, "Stu and me, we go way back.... We were together for fifteen years, and we raised m' girls together... And those two lil' ladies are the parts of our marriage that we got right." She grinned at me and continued, "You'll meet the girls, one of these days. I'm mighty proud of 'em. They're smart, beautiful, and unlike their momma used to be, they know how to balance the line between being loving, but not tossing away their independence at their husbands' request."

I found myself intrigued by her words. It was impossible for me to picture Dee as someone who'd take guff from anyone, much less her former husband. I perked a brow a little and rumbled, "Unh-hunh. I take it, Stewie was of the old school of thinking, eh? 'Woman's place is in the home'?"

Dee grimaced a bit and rolled her eyes at my words, but only in exasperation as she recalled it all. "Well...I gotta admit, for a long while there, I wasn't all that interested in forging m' own path. The girls were pretty much my life, and I adored being a mother. Stu's business was starting to take off, so money wasn't much of an issue, and we could afford to let me stay at home and look after Missy and Charlotte." She sighed a little and stared down at the ground as she murmured, "Hell, I didn't even begin to suspect that he was cheatin' on me till the girls were halfway through college. I was different back then, y'see. Had a bad habit of not getting too curious about anything that wasn't in my face at the moment."

I nodded. Given my own shock at how abruptly things ended with Rich, I could see how easy a trap that would be to fall into. Still, I felt a small surge of anger and indignation on Dee's behalf at the suffering she'd had to deal with from a husband who obviously didn't appreciate her as much as he should have. I frowned and furrowed my brows a little, shaking my head in disapproval. "I'm really sorry, Dee. Sure sounds like he gave you a raw deal."

She shrugged. "Well, at least he waited till the girls were outta college and on their own before he left me. We had enough of the mortgage paid off so that it wasn't something that would've broke my bank if I had to make the payments on my own, and the damn place was s'big that I ended up sellin' it so I could find something smaller n' more manageable for a newly-single gal to handle. The profits from that kept me afloat for a good while, but as you can imagine, I felt pretty lost. I'd always had Stu around to tell me what to do all those years, and having the girls around gave me a sense of purpose-and with all of them gone, I didn't really know what to do with m'self, other than a lotta cryin' and wonderin' what I'd done to make things end the way they did."

I thought about that, and shuddered. My own sense of loss after Rich left me seemed small, compared to that of a woman who'd always had the love of her children to sustain her, and a husband who if nothing else had been a solid provider. My own social circle and family ties were pretty small. My father had passed away in my late teens, my mother and I are close emotionally but not physically in the same state, and my only friends were pretty much a few of my co-workers and my leather bar drinking buddies.

I blinked at her as I looked at her again, then I rumbled, "So....what finally happened that snapped you out of your slump?"

She stared at me for a moment, those baby blues of hers somehow knowing, as they always seemed to, that her answer might hold some much-needed perspective for me. She gave me a soft smile and placed her hand on my forearm. "I woke up," she murmured. "Literally. I just woke up one morning about three months after the divorce, and I realized what a damn fool I was being. Debt free, my own place, no husband or kids to tie me down..." Then she lifted both hands and arms into the air in a shrug and a wide-eyed look that underscored her surprise at recalling the moment and continued, "...and here I was, acting like I was at a dang funeral! Every once in awhile during those years I was raising the girls, I'd find myself wondering what it'd be like to have some kinda corporate career....and now, I didn't have anything to hold me back from finding out. My girls were safe n' happy, my ex husband had saved me the trouble of being trapped in a marriage that was dead...." She clenched my forearm gently and give it a light shake, her eyes shining with excitement as she spoke to me with a big grin and a low voice, "I was free, Donny. FREE! Free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I could start going out to eat at restaurants I'd always wanted to try, and not have to check with my hubby to see if it was okay. I could take road trips on the weekends! I could get a college education and a degree and find a job that I was good at that'd let me take care of m'self." She paused a bit and looked around cagily to the left and right, then moved her head closer to mine as she murmured to me in almost a whisper, "If I wanted to....I could do m' housecleaning butt-assed nekkid!"

Her grin was infectious, the excitement in her tone contagious. I could feel her energy through her words as she shared them with me, and I could feel my pulse start to rev up a bit like a dragster at the starting line at a speedway. I laughed at her words and rumbled back lowly, "There's just something so wrong, yet so right, with that word, 'nekkid'!" I grinned. "So what'dja do first that morning, Dee?"

"Well, the question was, what didn't I want to do first," she giggled. "I hopped outta bed and made me a list of all the things I could do well, and all the qualities and skills I had that I might be able to carry over with me into the job market...then I hopped online and did some pokin' around on the internet and took a few career placement tests to figure out what I might be suited for. I made a resume', e-mailed it to a secretary friend of mine for proofreading, and I gave another friend of mine a call that works for a temp agency. She arranged for me to come in for an interview, and I found a part-time secretarial job that would help me offset the costs of m' college degree...and I decided to go for a program in A.R. work-y'know, Anthromorph Resources, and such like that."

I grinned wider, my tail flicking happily back and forth. "Aww, Dee, what an excellent choice! With your interpersonal skills, I bet you took to that like a fish to water."

"Ooh, honey, I shore 'nuff DID!" she laughed, nodding in agreement. "Between workin' part time, going to school, keeping the house up, and havin' a blast with all the new friends I was makin', I didn't have time to do no more mopin' about. Why, I even bought m'self a pure indulgence present after I got m' first H.R. job after I graduated, something I've always wanted-a motorcycle! A gen-u-wine Harley!"

"A bike?" I gaped at her, laughing in happy bliss on her behalf. "Gosh, Dee, I dunno if I could imagine you on a...." Then I paused and gave her a thoughtful look as I rubbed my chin a bit, and I smirked. "Hmm. On second thought, scratch that. I CAN see you on a Harley hog. I bet the Hell's Angels would be hard-pressed to have kept up with ya on that thing."

Dee sighed happily as she leaned back against the bench and stared into space again, her features serene as she nodded slowly. "Rode that thing all the way to Sturgis for the bike rally, sugarplum. Now THAT was a real adventure," she laughed. She gave me a wry look as she said, "And y'know somethin' else that I discovered? I found out that despite m' age, men still wanted me. I had a lotta handsome-lookin', seriously intelligent biker studs hittin' on me and buyin' me drinks at that rally, and when my TV went on the fritz once, I had the cutest lil' ol' raccoon feller offerin' to fix it for me wearin' nothing but his underwear, no less. Lordy, that boy had an ass that could'a cracked walnuts, it was s'tight."

I shook my head in wonder at her stories, and we stared at each other with big, loopy grins on our faces for a moment or two, basking in the glow of her turnaround. Then she gave my bicep a nudge with a palm and murmured to me, "Anyhoo....that's how stuff panned out, and there ain't a day goes by nowadays that I don't try to treasure, even if I do it only in small ways. So, now-how we gonna get you to YOUR happy spot?" Her smile was still warm as usual, but her eyes had narrowed a bit as she scrutinized me, and I could tell that she expected a serious answer.

My whiskers twitched a little and I fidgeted the tiniest little bit as I considered her challenge. "That's a good question," I rumbled to her, admitting my uncertainty. I opened my mouth, then closed it again as I scratched my chin with a fingerclaw, then placed both palms on my knees as I stared into space again for a moment or two and tried to find the right words. I nudged my ballcap slightly sideways on my head as I scratched my headfur a little, feeling self-conscious. Finally, I was able to look at her again, something in my eyes both hopeful and needy.

"It's weird, Dee. I mean...I know I want to be happy again, I really do. It's just that..." I furrowed my brows a little, and frowned, my features pensive. "I feel... I dunno, 'stuck', somehow. It's kinda like something in me has died, or like a switch inside my heart's gotten turned off-and I don't know how to turn it back on."

Dee nodded to show that she understood, and she tucked my hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze that I badly needed at that moment.

"Sounds like you're carrying a lotta leftover baggage from it," she said, still looking at my features carefully. "You ain't told me much about your ex."

I sighed and rolled my eyes a little bit, knowing what I had to tell her and dreading it horribly. But I knew she'd get it out of me sooner or later, so best thing for me to do was bite the bullet. "Not a whole lot to tell, really. I thought things were going well, and Rich and I had been together for a few years and things seemed copasetic, if not maybe a little dry. We were lookin' towards the future and trying to figure out how we were gonna get a house together, and I came home early from work one day and found him in bed with another guy closer to his own age."

Dee winced, upon hearing that, and her eyes widened a bit as she squeezed my hand a bit harder for a moment in empathy. "Lordy!" she breathed. "Talk about endin' things with a bang...or getting banged, in this case." The words spilled out of her mouth almost before she could give them proper consideration, and she looked startled for a second, then pressed a hand over her mouth in embarrassment as she gave me a sheepish look of apology. "Dammit...! Donny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

I found myself actually able to chuckle at her comment, and I smiled at her and patted her leg. "Oh, hell, sweetheart, don't be ashamed! Heh. It's certainly the truth of the matter, no doubt about it." I shrugged a little, then let out a long exhaling sigh as I murmured, "And as was the case with you, I guess that it's good that it ended when it did. I tested negative for STD's after he and I broke up, and he didn't leave me drowning in too much debt, so in hindsight, it coulda been a whole lot worse. I guess what still stings the most is his parting shot to me, right before he left. He told me that he thought I was 'average'."

Dee froze for a moment, her eyes opening to normal but ever so slightly having a bit of anger dancing in their recesses as she let what I said sink in. "'Average'," she repeated, her voice flat. "And just what the flaming hell was that supposed to mean? What was he referrin' to? Your bank account? Your SAT scores? The length of your dick?"

I jumped just a tad as she got so worked up so quickly, and I saw a flush of color come into her cheeks as her temper threatened to get the better of her. She saw the look of blank surprise on my face, and she calmed herself down enough to shake her head angrily and glare out over the lake for a moment. She spoke again when she'd calmed down enough to breathe quietly, and she murmured to me in a low, disgruntled voice, "Donny, that wasn't an excuse that he gave to you, and it wasn't an explanation. It was pure, simple hatefulness, and you shouldn't oughta paid it no mind a'tall." She paused, then raised her brows as she gave me a hopeful look. "You want me to track the little twink down n' claw his eyeballs out for ya? I been dyin' to test out the durability of these here new fingernails, since I got m' last manicure. Madge told me that these suckers is hard as steel!" she offered, waggling her fingernails at me.

I felt a surge of fondness towards her for being so protective of me. I chuckled and eased an arm around her shoulders and snugged her warmly, then shook my head a little and rumbled, "Ahhh, he's not worth the effort, hon. He was just being himself, that's all. Rich was never happy unless he could have the last word in everything, including the LAST last word."

"Well..." Dee let out a little sniff of indignation as she patted my knee. "I'm sorry that he was so good at being a twerp, but I'm glad that you don't have to put up with his worthless lil' ass, no more. And I want you to do me a favor," she added, giving me a stern look and a finger waggle in my face. "The next time you hear him tellin' you that in your mind, I want you to remember that some folks are so greedy for gold that they can't appreciate it when they got a big ol' diamond in the rough sittin' right next to 'em."

I blushed at that, and I gave her a sheepish but grateful little grin as I nodded and squeezed her hand. "I will, Dee!" I chuckled. "And I'm getting better on that front, day by day," I shrugged. "I still like myself okay. I just need to figure out where I wanna go from here."

Dee frowned a little, and her brunette locks bounced a bit as she shook her head. "Oh, but darlin', just 'like' ain't good enough. You got to love yourself! Not enough to let yourself get all uppity, mind you, but enough to let folks know how special you are."

I winked at her grimly. "Excellent advice, but easier said than done," I replied. "And not to change the subject, but are you ready for us to go get that grub? That walk and the nice fresh air we've been breathing has done made me hungry."

"In a minute..." she murmured, as she cocked her head at me a little bit, studying me again. Only this time, I noticed that the scrutiny seemed more intense. She didn't seem to blink as she looked at me, only her pupils and irises barely flicking as she looked at me curiously, as though she'd never seen me before. She kept her hands in her lap as she stared at me, and I knew that she was ruminating about something, but whatever it was, it wasn't anything that she was likely to tell me about in a straightforward manner.

But then she smiled a smile that I thought I recognized. It was what I liked to call her "Dee in diva mode" smile. She wore it when she was about to propose something mischievous that two grown adults should know better than to indulge themselves in, but that she knew she'd be able to talk me into doing, anyway. She wore that grin one night the previous winter when she talked me into going out to get some ice cream (despite all the snow on the ground) and rent a movie while we were both in our pajamas. Another time she'd wore it when an unattractive and obviously married guy had tailed her and made a pass at her at the mall before he'd known that I'd been with her, and she had me pretend to be her kinky husband and ask the guy if he wanted to come back to our place for some hardcore, kinky BDSM. So I was fully prepared for anything bizarre, upon seeing that look...and I was more than a little disappointed when she grabbed my arm and asked, "Hey, how 'bout we grab us a drink or two before dinner? You don't want your food to ruin your buzz, do ya?"

I frowned a bit, but I nodded agreeably enough, wondering what the hell she was up to as we got to our feet. "Uhhh...no, I guess not. The place I had in mind for dinner's got a pretty decent bar, if my memory serves."

Dee shook her head rapidly, again making her curls bounce. "Oh, no, sugar, you let ME steer us to the drinks!" she giggled. "I got this new place in mind that I stumbled across not too long after Stu n' me split up, and I reckon it's safe for me to say that you won't forget it anytime soon. Ya up for it?"

"Ohhh, so you been holding out on me, hunh?" I smiled, suddenly curious about this place of which she spoke. "Well, if you're giving it that much of a rave review, then it's gotta be pretty special, for a bar." We got up and headed back towards the parking lot where Dee's SUV sat waiting, and she bit her bottom lip a bit at my words and shook her head again, briefly.

"Welllll...." she murmured, choosing her words carefully, "It's not so much a bar as it is kinda a private club, darlin'. But no worries, it ain't one of them stuffy, shirt-and-tie country club affairs. Just trust me on this one!" she smiled, winking at me impishly.

* * * * * * *

Dee bundled me into her SUV and we rode over to the west side of town, over into the warehouse district. There were a number of bars here that we both knew of, all with a mingled amount of charismatic charm and sleaze-but I noticed that she was steering us away from those. We headed down several side streets towards one of the old foundries, and then turned down the street housing the old bottling plant that had long since gone derelict. The road was heavily pock-marked and in need of repair, and I saw at least one cop car whiz by with siren blaring, one hooker standing near a bus stop, and at least one man who appeared to be homeless pushing a shopping cart full of junk. I shifted in my seat restlessly, and I rumbled to my designated driver, "Dee, I'm not trying to sound like a wuss, but...this's a pretty shady-looking neighborhood. Are you sure we're going the right way?"

She nodded confidently and patted my knee as she said, "Oh, yeah. The outside neighborhoods don't always look s'good, but it ain't no reflection on the place we're going to. Sometimes, if you wanna attract the right kind of classy folks without them bringin' spoiled attitudes with it all, you gotta put the establishment in a place that'll keep all the looky-loos away, know what I mean?" She turned to me and flashed me that reassuring grin of hers, which I returned weakly just before looking out my window to a street corner full of young males that had scowls on their faces, gang colors on the bandannas wrapped around their heads, and chips on their shoulders probably large enough to offset the state of Texas.

"Well, if those looky-loos don't want to risk getting knifed or shot for their cell phones or wallets, then yeah, I'd say that we're definitely heading down the right track," I grunted, frowning tightly as my eyes widened a little and I watched the side streets and alley ways warily. I tried to keep up with the street signs and intersections as Dee steered us towards our destination, but between being unpleasantly distracted by the dismal surroundings and all the twists and turns that Dee seemed to be making, I found it impossible to get my bearings. It was also starting to get dark, which made things even more difficult-and I began to feel a growing sense of unease in myself as I pondered what it might be like to get stuck in a neighborhood like this one after hours. I was considering asking Dee if we might be better off checking out this place she suggested another time-as in, preferably during daylight hours and with she and I both packing firearms.

But at that moment, she downshifted and pulled her vehicle down one more side street, then up to the entrance to a chain-link fenced parking lot behind a one-level building that was fairly long, but nondescript. Mostly simple brick with a roof style and architectural touches that suggested that it was built maybe sometime in the 1930's, the windows had all been replaced with what looked to be folding shades, and a huge steel door that looked capable of stopping a Mongol horde jutted from the entrance. I tore my gaze from the building to the entrance gate, itself, which looked to be a good fifteen feet high. It matched the overall height of the circumference of the fence as it enclosed the vast parking lot inside, and I noted with some trepidation that the rest of the fence had what looked to be razorwire stretched taut across the top around the entire border. An enclosed guard shack just big enough to hold some security camera monitoring equipment and an access control panel stood to the right of the gate, and it was manned by two guards, one of whom came out to Dee's SUV and stepped up to the driver's side window. A muscular-looking cougar with a no-nonsense face but a pleasant enough smile nodded to Dee as she rolled her window down, and Dee smiled back at him as I leaned forward just a bit, checking the guard out quizzically. He was dressed in simple black cargo pants and a matching black shirt with the stylized letters "N.G." in the upper left corner of his chest region, and I saw to my surprise that he didn't appear armed. I was so busy staring at him that I started slightly when Dee touched my arm and murmured to me in a low voice, "Get out your driver's license, hon. The guard may wanna see it for verification." I gave her a puzzled look, but I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and reached for my license.

"Heya, Dee!" he grinned to Delores. "Coming in to grace us with your beauty and stir up some trouble at the same time, eh?"

"That's m' game plan, Mitch!" she snickered. She nodded her head sideways at me, then said to the feline, "This here's my buddy Donovan Connell. He's my guest for the evening."

The puma turned his gaze from Dee to me, and he smiled politely, nodding my way. "Hi, Don! Welcome to the club. Dee knows you, so that's really good enough for me...but could I see a form of I.D. just so my supervisor'll know that I'm doing my job?" he asked, nodding his head towards the guard shack and the other figure standing inside, drinking coffee and eyeing the monitors. I couldn't quite tell from where I was sitting, but the other fellow looked to be a canine or maybe a wolf-and just as big as the puma, if not bigger. I turned back to the feline and handed my license towards him, leaning my hand over Dee's lap.

"Oh, sure, no problem at all. You're just doing your job, and I wouldn't want your super pissed at me, either, from the looks of him," I replied.

The cat gave my license a cursory glance, then smiled bigger and nodded firmly, giving the rim of Dee's door window a firm thump as he rumbled, "Cool, you're all set! The doorman will explain the rules of the establishment to you, and if you have any questions, him or Dee can fill you in. Enjoy yourself, and we hope to see you again soon."

Dee and I thanked him, and I put my license back into my wallet as Dee rolled up her window, then pulled her SUV into the parking lot after the cougar opened the front gate for her.

"Nice enough guy," I remarked to Dee as she searched for a parking spot. The lot was rather large, and I estimated there to be a few hundred parking spaces-which struck me as odd, because the holding capacity of the building itself didn't look big enough to hold that many folks.

Delores nodded in agreement to my statement as she finally found a spot about halfway through the parking lot. "Oh, yeah, Mitch is a real sweetie-most all the security fellas are, I've gotten to know 'em all on a first-name basis. Some seriously musclebound n' hunky gents, lemmee tell ya. And if you think that Mitch was sizable, you just wait till you see their lead bouncer!" she said to me as she parked her vehicle, then switched off the engine, giving me a mischievous look as she winked at me playfully.

She locked up the SUV, then we both headed for the main entrance, which gave me the opportunity to study the building from the back side, as well. It was in no better state of repair than the front, and I didn't see any kind of neon signs or anything bearing the bar's name on it on the rear door. The parking lot itself seemed to be in excellent condition, which was quite the contrast from the side road that led in from the main road. It had been ridden with potholes and cracks, but the paving in the parking lot looked smooth and relatively new. I also noticed that there wasn't any broken glass littering the grounds, which also seemed a bit odd. Given that the main building itself seemed so run down, it seemed strange to me that the owner would go to so much trouble to keep the parking lot looking so pristine. I ambled along casually with my hands in my jacket pockets, staring idly around at the other automobiles that were sitting motionless in their spaces. I had seen the outline of what looked like some tractor trailer trucks parked way back in the back of the lot, where there was enough room for them to park, and that wasn't too strange; any place that serves food and beer is fair game for truckers, I reasoned. Ditto with bikers, as I saw some rather spiffy-looking Harleys and Triumph motorcycles reflecting the outside security lights off their chrome surfaces. A dented up, heavily rusted Nissan Sentra here, a straightforward dark brown four-door Buick sedan there...but then I saw a vehicle that made me stop dead in my tracks. It was just to the right of me, and I stared at it as though it were an alien, my jaw slack with surprise. Dee had walked on ahead of me and had been checking in her purse for something, because it took her a moment or two to realize that I wasn't by her side. She turned and looked back at me, puzzled. "What's up, Donny?" she asked.

I pointed a fingerclaw at the car I was staring at, my head slowly swiveling to stare at her as I said in a dumbfounded voice, "This...this car! It's a Rolls-Royce!"

Dee blinked at me, then at the car, then simply nodded. "Unh hunh. Bentley, I think, although I'm not 100% sure. I'm still learning about luxury cars, and Eldon hasn't taken me for a ride in his Rolls, yet..." She paused, then chuckled, laying a finger thoughtfully against her cheek as she murmured as an afterthought, "I'll have to give him some static for that, come to think of it. Make the rascal buy me a few drinks!"

My facial expression didn't change much. "You KNOW the guy who owns this car?" I rumbled, my eyes widening still more. "Holy shit, what does the guy do for a living, or is it safe for me to even ask?"

Dee chuckled and shrugged. "It may not be Eldon's, but chances are, he knows the owner. He's a bit of a car nut, the ol' codger." She paused, then smirked wider at my expression, enjoying my surprise and confusion. "And y'know, fancy as that 'un is, it ain't the only pretty playtoy on this block. Take another gander around."

I did as she suggested, and I found myself in for more surprises. She was right-there were several vehicles that classified as distinctively expensive and not your usual ride. Parked between a newer-model Volkswagen beetle and a Plymouth Cruiser was a black Lamborghini that was so sleek and low-slung that in the dim light of that area of the parking lot, it would be easy to overlook had I not made the effort. A flashy red Porsche sat next to a Toyota Camry, and a few rows over from them sat what looked to be a custom-made Hummer so huge that it made the monster trucks one might see at a tractor pull look dinky by comparison.

There were BMW's. There were Cadillacs. I saw luxury cars that looked grand-spanking new and had a price tag that I knew was probably four times my annual pay. There were some oddballs, too-a Gremlin painted the most obnoxious shade of orange I'd ever seen sat a few spaces down from a 1939 Jaguar roadster, and a Pacer sat all by it's lonesome near one of the corners of the lot, it's windows all still intact. It had to be one of the most oddly varied collections of vehicles I'd ever seen outside of an auto show, and my mind was reeling. I rubbed my fingers through my tophair as I slowly took them all in, then I walked over to Dee and stared directly into her face.

"Okay, Dee. Level with me. What the hell's up with this place? There's something weird with the whole thing. The building being so run down, the security measures, this..." I glanced over my shoulder at the Rolls Royce again, then pointed at it and rumbled, "...the whole 'Lifestyles of Both the Rich and Trashy' thing we got going on with all the cars, out here..." I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head at her, looking uncertain. "Is this joint safe? There's nothing illegal going on inside, I hope."

Dee shook her head at my concerns, and she sighed. "There isn't. That much, I can tell you. But the rest I'm gonna have to leave a mystery, darlin'." She gave my shoulder a pat and gave me an earnest look. "It's like I said, this here's a private club, of sorts. Folks learn about it by word-of-mouth, and they come in and give the place a looking over while the other folks who are already members do the same with them. If they like you, then you got a real good chance of being offered a membership."

I listened to her carefully, and I found myself scowling more and more the more she spoke. "That sounds a helluva lot like some kinda hazing, to me, Dee-and I'm way too damn old to be playin' frat boy. And besides that, it also sounds like some kinda popularity contest, and I ain't interested in messing around with something if I know I don't even have a chance at winning. I got enough of that with my ex."

Dee frowned darkly and shook her head resolutely at me. "These folks aren't like him, Don. They're nothing like him at all. Trust me on that one."

"Well, if this place is so great and these folks are so awesome, then why all the mystery?" I grunted, throwing my arms up into the air. "Geez, Dee, you can trust me, it's not like I'm gonna blab it to anybody."

Dee's face fell, and she held her purse primly in front of herself, her eyes unable to meet mine. "I can't," she murmured softly. "If I do that, Donny, they'll never letcha in. It's their rules, and even I have to play by 'em."

I could feel my ears getting lowered against my head, my throat tightening-and the coldness in my words would've made me flinch if I had been more cognizant of how they sounded coming out of my muzzle. "So, what're you saying, Dee? I supposed to put my trust into a bunch of strangers that I've never even met before?"

She looked up sharply at me, upon hearing that, and I saw just the slightest furrow in her brows as she gave me a firm look. "You trust me, don't you?" she asked. "For heaven's sake, Don, I know what kind of pain you've been through. Do you honestly think I'd put you into a situation where I'd let folks you don't know make you feel bad about yourself? Pull your head outta your ass, dumplin'."

I thought about that, and it shut me up promptly. She was right, of course. I still wasn't cozy with the whole idea, but I had no reason to believe that she was lying to me. I stared back and forth between her and the building, my face still stern and a little upset, but she could tell from the way my tail was flicking back and forth that I was reconsidering. She stepped over to me and laid her hand on one of my forearms.

"Don, that story I shared with you this afternoon-when I told you how I got over my divorce?" She pointed at the building, one brow raised as she looked over at it to indicate its significance, then back at my face as she murmured, "I was the one who ultimately made the decision to get on with my life-but I had some help."

I sighed a little, and my shoulders slumped. "I'm glad it worked for you, Dee. I guess it's just a little hard taking that first step."

She nodded grimly. "It is. And for what it's worth, I was one seriously nervous gal, the first time I came here. But all you gotta do is be yourself, Don. Just come inside the place for thirty minutes, and if you're still getting a bad feeling after that, just say so, and we'll go. No questions asked."

I put my hands back into my pockets and smiled a small smile, feeling a bit silly for my stubbornness. "Aww, hell, since we're already here... besides, it's not like I could ever say 'no' to you, is it?"

Dee smiled radiantly at me and tugged my lightly by the arm towards the entrance. "Damn right! Now you're talking sense. C'mon, I'll introduce you to the big guy."

I followed her, chuckling. "'Big guy'?" I rumbled. "Who, the owner? You telling me that he's bigger than the guar-"

My sentence went uncompleted as it was cut off by the sound of the rear entrance (in fact, the only entrance to the building, as far as I could tell) opening. There was a low thumping sound, and at first, I thought that the shadows from the inside of the doorway and the hallway beyond were supernaturally spilling out into my view and coalescing into an anthro form. I realized quickly that the body I was looking at was quite solid, but the effect was still unsettling-and the gent that faced me was the biggest rottweiler morph I had ever seen. Obviously the chief bouncer of the place, this guy had to be nearly 6'10" tall and looked pretty capable of eating a semi-truck tire for breakfast. He had the muscles of a professional wrestler, the intimidation factor of an escaped convict, and facial features that hovered somewhere between grim and expressionless. As his shadow eclipsed me and a good portion of Dee completely, I swallowed hard and had to will myself to go forward to catch up with her-but she smiled sweetly at him, and I noted with wonder as he returned her smile slowly but widely, displaying two rows of rather sharp-looking teeth, that one of his fangs was actually gold-tipped. I couldn't tell if this had been a dental requirement, or was there for the gangster factor-but either way, it didn't calm down the butterflies in my stomach any less. He caught me by surprise, however, when he folded Dee into his arms and gave her a warm hug, which she happily returned.

"Well, I'll be damned...!" he rumbled, his voice a low bass boom. "This place must be going downhill fast, with the kind of strumpets they're making me let in," he chuckled, his grin and tone letting Dee know that he was clearly joking.

Dee laughed and stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheekruff, and a playful smack on a beefy, vein-latticed arm. "Moolie, you big goof! If you weren't so big and hunky, I'd use ya for my coat stand! And behave yourself, we actually got us a respectable guest, for once." She gave my arm another light tug, sensing my hesitance and pulling me out of my stupor at staring at the behemoth, and she said to the canine, "Moo, this is my good pal Donovan Connell. He'll be my guest tonight."

The rottie swung his gaze in my direction, and his grin, though still polite, faded just a bit as he nodded a greeting to me. "'Respectable', hunh?" he winked at Dee. "How respectable can he be if he's willing to show up somewhere in public with you, Lady Long-Ears?"

"Don't you make me smack that fine ass of yours, honey. I'm liable to break my hand," Dee countered, narrowing one eye at him with mock solemnity.

Moolie rolled his eyes at that, but he chuckled so deeply that I could practically feel the sound thrumming through the pavement and into my boots. He looked back at me and rumbled, "It's nice to meet you, Donovan, seriously. Dee's made a lot of friends here since her first arrival, and we don't know what we'd do without our resident song-bunny." Then he got serious in his expression as he reached towards a table that sat just inside the doorway and got what looked to be a plastic nametag outlined in red that said "Guest" on it. He handed it to me, then rumbled, "How much has Dee told you about the club, so far?"

I pinned the badge carefully to my shirt, grateful to have something to temporarily distract me from looking up into his face. "Uhhh...not much, really. She said that it was a private club and that I'd be allowed in as a guest, but that I'm not guaranteed a membership unless the other members take a shine to me. That was the gist of it, anyway." I made sure the badge was showing prominently, then looked back up at him as he wiggled it and rumbled, "I take it, this needs to be visible on me at all times."

The huge canine nodded. "You got it. There are a couple other rules, but nothing major. We ask that you follow Dee to the main bar and central entertaining room, and keep yourself confined to that area until the two of you are ready to leave for the night. You'll be talking to other members, and they should be friendly to you-but you're not allowed to ask them anything specific about the club. You'll also see a lot of club employees walking about wearing communication headsets, and they might be escorting other members to and from some of the satellite rooms. Try to ignore them as best you can, but feel free to help yourself to the buffet table in the main room. Oh, and here's a voucher for you for two free drinks. Ian and his pals at the bar will set you up with whatever you want," he rumbled, handing me two colored slips of green paper that were decorated to look like money, but instead of having an image of a dead President in the middle, the same stylization of "N.G." that I'd seen on the guard's shirt could be seen.

The dog rumbled, "Everything else is pretty much common bar etiquette. Don't get drunk and harass the members, or I'll bounce your ass so hard that it'll take the rest of your body a week's flight on a transcontinental airline to catch up with it." Then he shrugged and gave me a cheery grin, as if the previous statement was just something he got used to saying automatically to new folks, and asked, "Any questions?"

I paused. I didn't have any real problems with the rules he'd just laid out to me, but all the same, I felt a tiny bit of heat rising in my cheekruffs at the idea of being judged by strangers over criteria that I didn't have the slightest idea about. I struggled desperately for something to say in reply, and all that came out was, "Yeah. If you don't mind my asking, where did your nickname come from? I kinda like it."

"Oh, THAT," the canine chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck slightly. This made the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulge thickly and impressively, and I forced myself to keep my gaze on them for only a second before the dog could notice I was staring at them. "Do you wanna tell him, Dee, or should I?" he grinned, looking at Delores.

She shook her head and ears, giving his broad back a pat. "Naaah. You tell him! It's always cuter when you describe it."

The dog's ears drooped a bit, but his grin stayed in place with a loopy sort of resignation as he nodded and looked back at me. "When I hit my growth spurt in high school and started playing football, my coach and teammates used to tease me about my size. Said that I looked more minotaur-ish than canine, and some of them began to 'Moo' at me whenever I made a particularly powerful play on the field. Then some wise guy got the bright idea of combining that sound with part of my first name, and that's what I've been stuck with ever since." He grinned at me, again flashing those killer teeth. "Kinda silly, ain't it?"

I shook my head earnestly. "Not really. I think it's very unique, frankly. Kind of like the way you used the word 'strumpet' when you were kidding around with Dee. That's not the kind of word just any guy uses, y'know. It sounds kinda...I dunno, gentleman-ly." My mouth was going on autopilot, and it occurred to me that my brain wasn't trying real hard to process what I was actually saying. I shot Dee a quick grin and a look that I hope said 'Pull me inside or clamp your hand over my mouth, Dee, but for pity's sake, shut me up!' She didn't budge, though, and merely grinned back at me with that twinkle in her eye that shows when she's up to something. I rubbed my face briefly with my palm to make myself pause, and then finished with a mild grin as he rumbled up to the big dog, "You must be a gentleman, Moolie."

That remark seemed to catch him off guard, and his ears perked as he cocked his head at me a little. "I try to be one, yeah," he murmured, giving me a thoughtful look. He and I stared at each other for a moment, a quiet sort of sizing each other up-but somehow, I didn't feel threatened, just shy. I surreptitiously slipped my hand behind Dee's back and gave the small of it a light poke, and it was just enough.

Dee jumped a bit, then said, "Well! Now that you boys've met, we can get on with the drinkin', hey?" She hooked her arm in mine and tugged me towards the open doorway, which Moolie held open for us with one hand. She waved cheerily at him and called over her shoulder, "Thanks for the hug, big fella. Behave or don't get caught!"

I nodded politely at the rottie, never feeling so grateful to have someone else to guide my steps. Moolie nodded back and flex-clenched the huge fist that wasn't holding the door open, and the sound of his cracking knuckles carried through the still air to echo softly in my ears. "Trust me, Dee, I'll leave the mischief-making strictly up to you!" he chuckled. His statement was directed at her, but his eyes were on me-and as I looked back at him, it was hard for me to figure out the expression on his face. By the time Dee had guided me down the dimly-lit entrance hallway, I felt my knees getting weaker, until finally, I had to slump against the wall as we rounded a corner. Delores stood next to me and smiled, as though she'd been expecting me to have such a reaction-and she patted my shoulder lightly as she chuckled.

"Need a damp cloth pressed to your forehead, sugar?" she grinned. "He's a serious hottie, ain't he?"

I grunted at her, and fished my handkerchief out of my other back pocket, mopping off my brow with it. "That he is. And thank you SO much for letting me flap my jaws like that in front of him till I came across sounding like an ever-loving, moon-eyed moron."

Dee waved off my comment, then nudged me gently. "Moolie tends to have that effect on most everyone he meets. They're either droolin' a waterfall over his muscles, or looking like they're gonna shit their undies because he's so big and intimidatin'-but either way, they're usually speechless, so you actually did real well."

"Great," I winced, pulling myself off the wall and sighing. "Not that it really matters, 'cause I doubt that he's into guys. And even if he was, he's probably got enough guys AND gals hanging all over him to where he can pick and choose who he wants to date. Even if he put my name on a waiting list, I'd prolly be eighty before he'd get around to me."

Delores shook her head again, and smacked my arm. "There you go again, not giving yourself enough credit. And as for his preferences, he hasn't openly told me as much, and no one here that I know has ever volunteered any information about him-but I've never seen a wedding ring on his finger, and he never talks about any girlfriends."

I chuckled as I followed her down the hallway, which was just barely big enough for two folks to walk through side by side. "Or maybe he really IS a gentleman, like I said, and he likes to keep his private life to himself."

Dee shrugged as she looked back at me. "At any rate, he's an awful nice guy, once you get past that gruff outer exterior-and I wish he'd meet someone that'd make him happy. Kind of what I wish for a certain tiger I know."

I smiled at her warmly, "Just for that, I'm buying the next round after I use the two vouchers-not that you probably don't already have tons of folks that'll happily buy you drinks here, anyway, if I know you!"

She led me down the rest of the hallway, which actually seemed to lead around the outer edge of the main building. After two more corner turns, we came to a flight of stairs that went down to a large door about two floors below. The top of the stairwell was surrounded on either side by two ornate columns that were intricately painted and sculpted, and the colors were quite striking. Done up above the columns was a simple but appealing stained glass placard with the words "Welcome to the New Grind" in elegant brown letters.

I snorted a little. "'New Grind'?" I rumbled, not quite impressed. "Sounds like a friggin' coffee house. Architecture design sure is pretty, though," I admitted, as I admired the entrance, then carefully followed Dee down the stairs to the doorway. "What's that name mean, anyway?"

Dee shook her head as I opened the door for her, and she stepped into the main room. "'Fraid I can't tell you that without givin' stuff away, hon. But we're here-ain't it grand?" she beamed, as she stepped inside and gestured around. I followed her, letting the door shut carefully behind me-and I have to admit, the place made me stop and stare, once I got my first look at it.

The room was huge. Easily half the size of a football field and then some, and it took me a few moments to realize that the building that we'd initially entered was just actually the initial entrance that led to the stairwell we'd just descended, which led to the REAL entrance-and from the looks of things, we had to be at least a few stories underground. There was a total of four stairwells in all, one for each surrounding wall, although the one Dee and I had come down was the widest and biggest. The other three led up to another floor that was a bit higher up than the main bar level, where we were at-and I noticed that this second floor had dark tinted windows that went all the way around the room. I squinted up at them to see if I could see through them, and I didn't see any signs of movement behind them-so I surmised that they were either there to hide security equipment, or that there was some other kind of party floor there and the shaded windows provided a one-way mirror kind of privacy, allowing furs on the second floor to look down on the main floor, but not vice-versa. There looked to be a hundred or so folks assembled here, although there were probably many more-and it was difficult for me to estimate, because the doorways at the head of the stairwells seemed to be continually opening and closing as the members came and went, many of them escorted by the headset-wearing employees Moolie had mentioned previously.

The center of the room had probably the most eye-catching feature. A huge fountain carved out of marble with a Grecian motif cascaded water quietly and pleasantly down it's four sides, with each artificial waterfall corresponding to the position of one of the stairwells. Grey and black in color, some strategically-placed spotlights illuminated it from below, while the rest of the room got a good portion of its light from the huge chandelier that hung above the apex of the fountain. The chandelier itself, as well as the light sconces built into the walls all around at even intervals, was a bit more modern in design, and although the place was a good deal more well lit than a dive bar, it didn't seem to hinder the intimacy of the place. There were plenty of additional sitting areas and tables, and there were at least three large-screen TV's - two for sports and news viewing, and another set up behind what looked to be a karaoke stage, which was currently not being used. Smaller TV's played news and sporting events, and there were a few casino-style slot machines both against the walls and some smaller, digital versions that also offered puzzle and arcade-action-style games. A cheery-looking, neon-outlined jukebox took up a considerable amount of space against one of the walls, and a dance floor off to itself gave the members space to shake their moneymakers, if the urge struck.

The walls were painted in soothing earth tones that weren't overly dark, and they coordinated well with the hardwood floor. The main bar ran the entire length of the east wall, and I had to stare at it for a moment and admire the handiwork. It appeared to be one gargantuan piece of oak wood with a mirrored backdrop, reminding me vaguely of something out of an old-timey wild West saloon-but this bar had to have been brought in and set up from separate sections, because I couldn't imagine any other way they would've gotten it to this sub-level, otherwise. There were three smaller bars against the other walls that were done up in simple glossy black obsidian stone, but the collection of bottles and beer taps available between the four drink-serving areas left me reeling. From the looks of things, if you couldn't find a particular alcoholic beverage from one of the bars here, then it simply didn't exist.

I followed Dee down the stairs and across the floor, getting closer to the fountain. Several of the members glanced our way, waving enthusiastically to Dee and nodding a polite greeting to me, and I flashed them a smile that I hoped was equally polite, but probably came across more as slightly nauseous-because suddenly, I felt acutely out of place. Many of the patrons were dressed in formal to business casual clothing, but there were also people in jeans and T-shirts, two gents in formal tuxedoes, and a few ladies in some very classy evening gowns. Despite the hardwood floor, the acoustics of the room lent well to a conversation environment. No one had to shout to make themselves heard, and it occurred to me that the soft music being piped into the place and the tinkling of glasses and ice from the bar areas were actually more audible than most of the chatting. Perking my ears sharply, I caught the sound of what almost sounded like Russian coming from behind me and in a very deep voice. I glanced over and sure enough, a rather burly ursine fellow with heavy facial fur was talking with a pretty young albino squirrel femme, who seemed to be keeping up with him quite well and responding in his native tongue. Sitting on one of the many comfortable-looking love seats just across the way was a large simian gent, gorilla by species, dressed in tasteful but vibrantly colored robes that put an image of Africa into my mind. My curiosity reared up in my head worse than ever, and I was so distracted it took me a moment to realize that Dee was tapping me on the arm.

I turned to her and she chuckled. "Lordy, I been trying to say somethin' to you for the last five minutes! The place got you that distracted?" she asked, as she glanced sideways and waved to someone else that she knew.

I nodded to her, rubbing my right cheek a little in a bit of a daze. "It really does. I feel kinda overwhelmed. What's up with some of these guys that look and sound like foreign ambassadors, Dee?"

Dee opened her mouth to reply, then looked mildly frustrated and sighed, making a zipped-lip motion at me with her fingers and mouth. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but nodded in understanding. "Ahh. Can't break that down for me, either, hunh? Alright, then, steer me towards the main bar, there. I could really use a drink."

"Took the words right outta my mouth!" she smiled, as she put her arm into mine and led me towards the sprawling oak monstrosity of a main bar. As I got closer to it, I saw that it even had the brass footrail down at the bottom, and the bar stools appeared to be attached to the main bar itself. Six bartenders, all wearing slight variations of the black shirt and pants that the outside security guards wore, were standing behind the bar counter and zipping about, mixing and pouring drinks at a frenetic pace while they chatted and laughed with their customers. Dee brought me over to the serving spot closest to the middle of the bar, which was being overseen by a strapping and handsome-looking anthro ram gentleman with a raucous, hearty laugh and dark green eyes. Ebony horns curled gracefully on the sides of his head and a ready smile seemed to be a permanent part of his features, and a neatly-trimmed goatee bobbled around his muzzle as a crisp Irish accent burbled from his lips. Delores winked at me and raised a brow as she nodded her head sideways at the ram in silent indication of what a stud he was, and I hardly needed a reminder. The ram finished the order for the customers in front of us, then turned to Dee and I, eyes sparkling as he saw her standing with me. He threw his arms open wide to her.

"Dee, Dee, Delores, me diva darlin' dear!" he rumbled, leaning partway over the bar to clasp her into a warm hug that she happily returned. "And a foine sight fer me weary peepers ye are, too! Are ye ready to elope with me after shift's end, or shall we just abscond to the back room where I can have me evil way with ye in the broom closet?" His grin was infectious, and I felt my own smile grow wide on my face as the sexy way he rolled his "r's" made my toes curl in my boots in delight.

Dee laughed and gave one of the ram's horns a playful tug. "You crazy bullshitter! Hush your handsome face and lemmee introduce you to somebody," she smirked to him as she tugged me forward. "Ian, this is my very dear friend Donovan Connell, my guest for the evening." She looked at me and pointed at the ram, murmuring to me, "Donny, this is the bar's chief bartender and all-around heartbreaker, Ian MacCleary."

"Ahhh, another Irish boyo we have, do we?" Ian said, his grin approaching dazzling proportions as he gave me the once-over, then proffered a beefy hand and took my mitt in his, pumping it firmly and warmly and with surprising strength. "Always a pleasure to have more o' the green hereabouts, laddie! An' if ye tell me that you an' Miss Dee aren't married, you'll make me an even happier man!"

I grunted at the enthusiastic handshake, but returned it with equal verve as I chuckled at Ian's comment and shook my head. "Pleasure's mine, Ian. And no, Dee and I aren't married, I'm just one of the usual retainers she pays to follow her around and keep her out of trouble while I'm lavishing her with adoration."

"Ye know our sweet little miss well, aye!" Ian laughed, giving one of Delores's hands a fond squeeze and my right shoulder a jovial thump. "'Tis grand that ye've made yer way to our establishment, Donny-lad. What can I wet yer collective whistles with, this evenin'?" he grinned, eyeing the two of us back and forth as he reached over with a deft hand and slid the two free drink vouchers out of my fingers with practiced ease.

Dee and I ordered our drinks, and although they were on the house, I paid him a five dollar tip anyway, which got me the reward of a big smile from him and his knuckles rapping on the bar counter for me in the way that all bartenders do to show their gratitude for a healthy tipper. The line of folks behind us had grown a little, so Dee took me over to the buffet table so we could get some appetizers to go with our drinks. Set up to be portable but sprawling, the buffet was a series of covered tables with carved ice sculptures serving as the centerpieces, each one designated to resemble the kinds of foods offered for that particular table. Once again, I was shocked-with the exception of some of the cubes of cheese and pieces of carrot and celery sticks, nearly everything looked freshly made. Dee got us two plates, and we joined the line of folks making their way through the spread.

"Damn, Dee," I rumbled lowly to her as she fixed herself a small salad from a selection of green items that would make any produce section at a grocery store jealous. "I thought I was getting spoiled with buffalo wings and Cheez Doodles at some of the sports bars, but this makes any other happy hour I've been to look pathetic. Is ALL this stuff made fresh?" I ladled some Polish meatballs onto my plate, then selected a piece of what appeared to be veal parmesan that nearly made me drool openly.

Delores nodded. "Every weeknight, and there's a huge Sunday brunch, too. They've got a kitchen behind the bar that you wouldn't believe. Place is big enough and well-equipped enough to feed an army, literally," she murmured back, keeping her voice down but then giving me a raised eyebrow to show how impressed she'd been to have seen such.

I stared back at her, then shook my head in wonder and stifled the urge to ask her why the members here were getting such royal treatment by stuffing a piece of fried mozzarella stick into my muzzle. As I chewed thoughtfully and stared over the vast amount of food available, I took another gander around the place in general and noticed something else that made this place a marked departure from a normal dive bar-it was spotlessly clean. I saw no evidence of crumbs or drink spills on the floor, and kitchen staff members decked out in white T-shirts with the club logo on them kept strict tabs on the food without hovering around the table too much. Dishes that began to run low of their contents were promptly and quietly switched out with fresh replacements, and empty cups and used plates were swiftly disposed of. The floor seemed to be varnished and equally clean, and I had the sneaking suspicion that I could have literally eaten off of it if I'd wanted to, and not suffered any ill effects.

We found a place to sit, then proceeded to munch out and chat with each other, then with Dee's many friends and acquaintances as they came up to introduce themselves. All of them seemed very nice, but I found it to be a challenge keeping up with their names and faces. Nevertheless, they were all disarmingly polite, and making small talk with them came far more easily than I had expected. About midway through our food, one of the headset-wearing employees came up and touched Dee on the arm, then whispered something into one of her ears, pointing up to the window-tinted second floor. She followed his finger with her eyes, then frowned a little, but nodded as she carefully set her plate aside and leaned over to me.

"Donny, I gotta go talk to somebody upstairs, right quick. I won't be but a few minutes, okay?" she murmured into my ear.

I glanced up at her with a look of uncertainty, but I smiled a little and nodded. "Gotcha. I'll try not to bore your pals to death while you're gone, but you might wanna sing 'em something when you get back, just to wake 'em up."

She snorted softly and smacked my arm gently. "Just be yourself, ya goof. They'll like you for who you already are." She followed the otter employee up the nearest stairwell, and my attention was diverted back to the young but friendly skunk couple who had introduced themselves moments before. Sandy and Chris were fairly new to the club, themselves, having only just become members about six months previously-but they were chatty and likable, and they took up where Dee left off, introducing me to some of the other members they knew. Some of them included the formal eveningwear types, but I was relieved to notice that they paid virtually no mind to my own attire. I got to meet an older mouse lady who was a semi-retired teacher running a successful internet business on the side, a dapper fox gent with a British accent who taught history at a school in Bainbridge, U.K., the tribal-robe-wearing gorilla who had a successful import business with several ties to major metropolitan American cities, and a nicely-dressed, spectacle-wearing bovine gal who was an administrative assistant to a state governor. They all kept me intrigued with their experiences, and I wasn't even aware of how long Dee had been gone until the crowd started to thin out a little and I saw her come back downstairs by herself. She smiled as she saw me having such a good time, and if her arrival hadn't made me more aware of time passing, I might not have checked my watch. I was thunderstruck when I realized that I'd been gabbing with her friends for well over three hours, and I reluctantly told them that I needed to head home for the night. I shook hands with them all around, and glanced over to the main bar to see if Ian was still available, but apparently he'd left for the evening. Dee did her usual round of goodbye hugs, and we headed up the main stairs towards the parking lot.

"Well?" Dee asked, as we reached the top of the stairs and started winding our way through that narrow entry hallway again. "Whaddya think? Pretty nifty place, isn't it?"

I nodded firmly, my stomach full and my heart light for the first time in what felt like ages. "It sure is!" I rumbled. "Some of the best food and conversation I've had since our last dinner out together. I can't get over how friendly everyone was, even some of the ritzier-looking folks."

Dee nodded. "That's the great thing about this place. There's really no such thing as separation by class and finances. Members here treat you like an equal no matter what walk of life you come from."

"That's the vibe I got, yeah," I murmured, suddenly furrowing my brows a bit as a realization hit me. "But y'know, I'm curious-there were a couple members I met tonight that were obviously fairly well-off, but they didn't seem to have any 'trophy' wives or husbands. Nobody I met came off as being physically unattractive to me, but not too many of them seemed to be physically stunning. I guess you'd think that they'd have some extensive plastic surgery done, or something, since they can probably afford it."

Dee shrugged. "Looks aren't everything, Don. It's like I said, earlier-the members that come here aren't really interested in winning beauty pageants. They're here to make friends and to network."

By that time, we had made our way almost to the door that led out to the parking lot, and Moolie was nowhere to be seen-but his relief for the night, a strong-looking german shepherd morph that looked capable of dishing out some pretty heavy pain if necessary, was sitting at the entry table, watching us approach. He stood up as we came over, and he smiled politely, waving to Dee. "Heya, Dee. Did you show our guest tonight a good time?" he asked, nodding his head in my direction.

"Sure did, Chuck!" she beamed. "He spoiled a lot of my fun by keeping me sober and sane, but I'll forgive him just this once."

The canine laughed, then held up a digital camera as he looked at me. "Mr. Connell, is it all right if I take your picture for our records?"

I hesitated, but then shrugged. "Don't see why not, long's you're not doing it for blackmail purposes, later," I joked.

The dog shook his head and kept on grinning. "Nothing of that sort whatsoever, I promise. Just relax and say 'cheese'."

I did as he asked, he snapped my picture, then excused himself briefly, asking us not to leave until he came back-which he did, a little under five minutes later. He slipped something laminated in plastic into my hand, then opened the door for us and bid us goodnight. "Glad you two enjoyed yourselves, and looking forward to seeing you both here again real soon. And Dee, if you get pulled over for a D.W.I., don't blame it on Don, okay? He seems like a nice, non-troublesome kinda guy," he grinned, his words meant to be teasing.

Dee reached over and playfully tugged one of the canine's ears as she walked past his desk, smirking at him. "You keep it up, Chuckie, and I'm gonna have Hayatsu come by here and pick you up from work in a sun dress, matching bonnet, and carryin' a picnic basket!"

Chuck paused, ears perked sharply, and if I hadn't known any better, I would've almost sworn that his skin went a few shades of pale under his dark pelt as his eyes widened in terror at the thought. He pointed a black fingerclaw at her and rumbled lowly, "Oh, you wouldn't dare...! Would you?" Then he frowned a bit as he considered something, then shrugged and nodded. "Eh. Actually, yeah, knowing you, you would-and Haya would go right along with it, the evil lil' bitch. Darn it all, Dee, you're impossible!" he laughed. "Have a great night, both of you."

We waved goodbye, then headed for Dee's SUV as I turned to her and rumbled to her with a puzzled expression, "So who's 'Haya', and why did he consider that such a threat?"

Dee chuckled. "Hayatsu is Chuck's boyfriend and live-in honey. Cute lil' slip of an oriental fox fella, and he can do one hell of a drag impersonation on stage, if he can be talked into it."

My brow perked, but I nodded, then slid my hands into my jacket pockets as we got nearer to our parking space. "Ahh. Well, it's nice to know that there are some confirmed gay folks among the ranks, here."

"Preferences n' orientations of all persuasions, for the most part, sugar," she murmured to me as she unlocked her vehicle with her keychain remote. "And they come here because they feel safe and welcome." As we got into the vehicle and buckled up, she glanced at the hand I was using to hold the card, which I suddenly became curious about, myself. I opened my palm and held it up to my face and saw that in addition to my digitized picture, it had my name, the date, the club logo, and the words "TRIAL MEMBER" on it. I flipped it over and noticed an electronic card-swipe magnetic stripe, much like what one might find on a credit card-and some fine print script that I scanned over. It didn't tell me anything specific, only went into the usual spiel about the card being revocable at any time of the club management's choosing, not to be duplicated or used under false pretenses, a privacy clause, and other such.

Dee stared at the card right along with me, then gave my leg a pat as she started to back out of the parking space, one petite brow raised at me in quiet curiosity. "Well. You must've done or said a couple things right tonight, hon. That there's a temporary membership card. It means that they like you enough to seriously consider lettin' you become a member. You should be impressed with yourself, it actually took me two visits before they offered me one of those."

"Really?" I rumbled, giving her a surprised look. "Dang, that's odd... I mean, given how shy I usually am, and what a natural you are with making friends and such..." I scratched my headfur slowly, brows furrowing. "What do you suppose the deal is?"

She grinned and shrugged a little. "Near as I can guess, they might've thought I was a bit TOO friendly, my first time here. I reckon they had to check me out a second time and make sure that they thought that I could keep secrets well before they agreed to let me run around loose, in there."

"Ahh," I murmured, turning the card back over in my hand. "I guess that's a possibility. But if they hadn't trusted you, I doubt that I'd be interested in becoming a member, myself. You're one of the more trustworthy folks I know."

"Thankya, darlin'!" she smiled to me as we headed for home. "But anyway, now that you got that, you can come back here anytime you want, even if you don't have another member with you. There's a web site address on that back of that card, and if you put it onto your computer and type in your trial membership number, it'll automatically give you directions to their nearest location-this one, in this case."

My ears perked, and again, I was a bit surprised. "'This' location?" I rumbled. "What, do they have more than one of these places?"

Dee nodded somberly at me. "Sure do. Got 'em all over the world, in fact, in some places that you might not imagine."

I shook my head slowly in wonder, then tugged my wallet out of my pocket and put the card into it as I murmured to her, "Damn, yet more mystery to the place. Well, thanks for showing the joint to me and letting me check it out, Dee, but I'd better not be coming back here too often. That buffet was so good that I'd be liable to get big as a house, if I ate it regularly."

* * * * * * *

Despite what I said, though, I did go back. Several times, in fact. I found that although my curiosity about the place still raged inside my brain, I no longer felt compelled to worm details about the club out of the other members-I was having too much fun just hearing their stories about their jobs and lives. I become somewhat of a regular, stopping in at the place at least once a week to see how many new faces I could spot. It seemed that I was one of the only trail members in the area, and while I got to where I recognized some of the local regular members, there always seemed to be an assortment of new faces from week to week of folks from out of town. Never knowing who I might get to meet from one visit to the next really kept the place from getting stale.

Time passed, and my birthday drew near. I had hoped that Dee and I might have been able to go somewhere special for dinner, but she had told me the week before that she had to go out of town to a job-related seminar, and wouldn't be back till the Monday following my birthday. I had continued to keep up with my buddies from the leather bar, and we still did the beer busts on Sunday every once in awhile-but my buddy Pete the bruiser bruin, as we had affectionately nicknamed him, had decided to move to Chicago, and my equine pal Charlie had apparently started dating an older daddy-type badger that had swept the good ol' horse clean off his hooves. I was happy for him, of course, but beer bust Sundays just weren't the same without his jovial grin, the plumes of his cigar wafting through the air, and his quiet but reassuring presence.

My birthday finally arrived, and because it fell on a Thursday night, I resigned myself to heading to the New Grind and at least getting in a good dinner from the buffet and getting myself a little blitzed at their bar. Dee had recommended such before she'd left on her trip, saying that one of the perks of a trial membership at the club was their birthday specials. In addition to the dessert of one's choice with birthday candles stuck into it, the birthday gal or guy could also pay a buck at the bar and then get free drinks-one for every five years up to one's birthday age. I was turning thirty-eight, so that meant that I had seven free drinks coming my way for a lousy dollar. You can't beat that kind of deal with a stick.

The weather was drizzly and rainy, and when I got to the club, the guard didn't even come out to check my I.D. card-he recognized my truck, and he just opened the gate with the guardhouse controls and motioned me inside. There was a bit of a stiff wind that was kicking up, too, so I didn't blame him for not wanting to get soaked.

The parking lot was rather empty, much to my surprise, and I had no trouble finding a parking spot near the entrance-but then, the other times I had been here, it had been a weekend night, and I had also arrived at 6:30PM-very early, by club standards. The evening crowds probably wouldn't be arriving until after nine.

I went inside, left my coat at the coat check, flashed the panther doorman my I.D. card, and headed downstairs, my steps sounding hollow and lonely on the stairwell as I descended towards the main floor. The place was almost empty except for a handful of folks and the bar staff. I headed for the main bar and noted that Ian was there, giving instructions to some of the junior bartenders, who then hurried off to comply with whatever it was he wanted. His features brightened a bit as he saw me, and he waved, reaching over the bar to sieze both my hands into his as he knocked the backs of his own hands against the wooden surface of the bar firmly, several times, knuckles rapping. "Ahhh, a friendly face! Lordy, bonny Donny, I hope ye are happier than most of the folks I'm workin' with, this eve. I believe the foul weather's got folks feeling out of sorts."

I chuckled. "Nice to see you, too, Ian! Co-workers not real happy to be here tonight, hunh?" I glanced around and winced a bit before I continued, "I have to admit, this is the emptiest I've ever seen this place. Is it always this dead, during the week?"

Ian frowned, an expression I wasn't used to seeing on his handsome face, and he shook his head, rubbing one of his horns wearily. "Och, no. We've usually a pretty regular crowd drifting in at about this time on weeknights, and even more, if the weather's snarlin', like it is, tonight. I can't figure it out, me own self."

My ears drooped a bit as I took a seat on the barstool next to his station, and I sighed. "Hmmm. Guess I picked the wrong night to come here for my birthday drinking, then."

Ian forgot his own weariness as he heard those words, and he flashed me his usual grin as he rumbled to me, "'Tis yer birthday, tonight? Well, bosoms n' blarney, laddie, why d'int ye say so in the first place?" he laughed. "Happy Birthday to ye! Would only that Miss Dee were here to sing ye the song, eh?" he winked. Then he got somber-faced for a moment, as he looked this way and that, then leaned over towards me and rumbled to me in a low secretive whisper, "Tell me, Donny-have ye ever had yerself a Bailey's Irish Cream Coffee fixed by an authentic Irish bartender?"

My eyes widened at the thought, and I couldn't help but smirk as I leaned back towards him and rumbled, "Can't say that I have, as a matter of fact-but it sounds delicious, and like something that'd knock me on my ass."

"Right on both counts!" he growled to me playfully as he gave one of my shoulders a light shimmy-shaking. "And if ye'll do me a huge, huge favor, I'll put in double the normal amount of whiskey that I use for a normal one, free o' charge!"

I blinked, then laughed. "Hell, Ian, just fixing it the way you normally do would probably be enough to put me under, but sure, I'd be glad to help you out. What'cha need?"

The ram sighed and looked gratefully at me as he rumbled, "One of me waitstaff called in sick, tonight, an' he's usually the one what sets up the buffet tables. The kitchen's too busy cookin' to mess with such, so do ye think ye could get 'em hauled out here n' set up the way they're supposed ta go? They're just foldin' tables, so they're a cinch to lay out."

I nodded agreeably as I slid off my barstool. "Sure, not a problem. Just point me to where they're stored, and I'll take care of it."

You'd have thought that I'd handed Ian a winning lottery ticket, from the way he clapped my shoulders with his hands and beamed joyfully. "Ahh, bless ya, Donny, ye're a lifesaver!" He pointed over my shoulder towards a doorway that was tucked just under one of the stairwells, which led to the hallway where the bathrooms were. "Down the bathroom hallway, yonder, is a storage closet that's just round the corner from the men's room. The door should be unmarked and unlocked, it's the only other doorway down there. Ye'll find the tables leanin' up against the wall on the back side of the room, and the tablecloths folded on one of the storage shelves to yer left."

I nodded, then headed for the doorway. "On it. How many tables are there in all?"

"Should be a total of seven," he called. "Just drape the cover cloths over 'em when ye've set 'em up, and I'll have yer coffee waitin' on ye when ye finish."

"Sounds like a winner. Back in two shakes," I rumbled. I went into the bathroom hallway and found the door Ian had referred to, then made my way inside. The room was barely lit, the fluorescent light hanging above being somewhat old and in need of replacing. While clean, this room was the only place that reminded me of the more run-down appearance of the upstairs entry building. I looked around for the tables and saw some folding tables leaning against the right wall, as opposed to the back wall, where Ian had specified. I frowned, then shrugged, figuring that I'd check the back wall to make sure that these were indeed the right ones. The door to the room closed behind me softly, and I didn't give it any thought as I searched, finding no other tables in the room except for the stack next to the door. I hefted one of the tables into my hands, then carried it to the door and turned the doorknob to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning more deeply, I set the table down and tried the knob again. It turned, but the door itself wouldn't budge. I couldn't tell if a secondary lock somewhere in it had accidentally been tripped-maybe a security measure, to make sure that nobody tried to swipe any supplies-but it wouldn't move in either direction, even after I gave the doorknob several vigorous shakes with both my hands. I felt my cheekruffs flush with both anger and embarrassment as I glowered at the door, then sighed and thumped one of my meaty fists against the door firmly.

"Hey, Ian?" I called. "Anybody? The damn door locked by itself, can somebody get me outta here? Hello?" I didn't get a response, and I rubbed my palm over my face in agitation, my heart hammering a bit in my chest. I calmed down in a hurry, though, realizing that it wouldn't take Ian or one of the kitchen staff long to realize that the tables hadn't been set up yet, and someone would come to let me out. I glanced around and looked for a ventilation shaft somewhere to see if it might let me shout out to someone in the main room. I found a small one, but it was up way too high for me to reach, and there wasn't anything readily available for me to stand on. I balled my fists and felt frustrated as my tail flicked behind me in agitation, and I looked at the wall adjoining the main room, wondering if someone might hear me if I thumped on it hard enough. I stepped over towards it and nearly jumped out of my stripes when I heard a voice coming from somewhere behind me.

"Happy Birthday, Donovan," it said. It was definitely male, and fairly deep, but I didn't recognize who it was.

I whirled around, looking about wildly, snarling softly. "What? Who's there?" I rumbled. I didn't see anyone in the room with me, and I rubbed my arms, the coolness of the storage room getting to me a little bit as I stepped towards where I thought the voice had come from. "Where are you at?" I called.

"Check the back of the room, where you looked for the tables, before," the voice suggested.

I did as the voice asked, squinting a bit in the darkness of the rear of the room. The back wall was mostly in shadow, and I stretched my hands out in front of me as I tried to touch the wall itself. Instead of the cool touch of cement blocks, I felt the smooth, glossy finish of what felt like some kind of plastic, or maybe glass. I tapped on it with my fingerclaws, then I realized what it was. It was the same kind of two-way glass or tinted plastic that I had seen circling the second floor above the main bar, only this time, I could see through to the other side-but just barely. I could make out the vague outline of someone sitting in a chair a few feet behind the tinted surface, and there looked to be a small room around him, just adjacent to this one. I tried to get a handle on where the stranger's room would be located in relation to the main bar, and couldn't. Wherever his room was, it wasn't accessible anywhere from the main bar, outside.

I tried to make out the stranger's features, and couldn't-but I could tell that he was watching me intently. I narrowed my eyes at him and rumbled lowly to him as the hackles raised on the back of my neck, "Okay...I dunno who you are or how you know my name, but I'm guessing that you either work for this place, or that you're the head honcho, himself. So what's the idea with the door trick? This your sick little idea of a joke?"

The figure in the room shook his head and chuckled deeply. "I guess you could call me the general manager or proprietor of this location of the club, yes-but I'm definitely not the owner. And relax, Don, I'm not here to hurt you. I was hoping that I might be able to answer some of the questions you might have been carrying around with you, in regards to this place."

I paused. This was certainly nothing I'd been expecting. I'd gone for well over half a year with a trial membership, and I hadn't pumped anyone for information about the club-and now this guy claimed that he was going to give me the whole story?

"Ohhh, I get it," I rumbled, my brows furrowing futher. "This is like some kinda test for me, isn't it? I ask you to tell me about the club, you make up some stuff to satisfy me, and then, you tell the real owner of the place that I broke the rules, and BAM -I'm outta here. End of story." I snorted. "Well, you can forget it. If you really were the manager or proprietor, or whatever, you'd have the balls to let me see your face, instead of pulling this interrogation bullshit. But if you don't have someone get my ass outta here pronto, there are gonna be some very real property damages to this room."

"Now, now, Donovan, don't get testy. I told you that I meant you no harm, although yeah-in a way, this is sort of a test for you. But don't think of it as such-think of it more as a choice," the voice rumbled.

I felt my fingerclaws extending, just a little bit, and it really took a lot of my will to keep myself from punching that glass as hard as I could. "And what's that supposed to mean?" I snarled to him softly, a tight growl lingering at the back of my throat.

The figure leaned forward just a little bit, his face closer to mine. "Just what I said. It's a choice. Besides, aren't you the least bit curious about this place? I was, when I first came here. My associates and I think you'd be a good match for this club. You definitely know how to keep a secret, at any rate."

"Depends on how legal the secret is," I snarled.

The mystery male chuckled again. "Oh, it's legal. Or rather, it's consensual enough. Besides..." He leaned forward further still, and I could see that his muzzle was a bit long-but what really struck me were his eyes. A small band of light fell across them from behind the glass, and I could tell that they were a pale, icy blue. Spellbinding, yet a bit cold at the same time. He stared at me for a moment, and we blinked at each other before he finished his sentence.

"...Wouldn't it be great fun for you to have access to something that Richie could never have?"

Richie.

He knew about Rich.

I assumed that he probably knew everything about me. My job, my mediocre little life...

And I'd been doing so well. Or at least, I thought I had. I hadn't thought about Richie in months.

But just the mentioning of his name from this total stranger brought all those old feelings of hurt and resentment raging back. My heart rate rammed through the roof, and I felt the blood pumping through my veins, growing out of control.

When I slammed both my fists up against the glass hard enough to rattle it, the figure jumped back a bit in his chair. I couldn't say that I blamed him. I scared myself a little, at that moment.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

End - Part Two