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Life of the Party

"One should never leave a convivial party before closing time."

Winston Churchill

Silver and his mate Vikki were lying in side by side, naked, with the sheets bunched up at the foot of their king-sized bed. They had recently finished another energetic round of love-making, reunion sex after her safe return from another mission. The sweat hey had generated was already dried, their laboured breathing had returned to normal, and they had entered that part of the evening where idle conversation filled the time before another round.

Vikki rolled over onto her left side, the side where she was missing half an arm, and toyed with the hair on Silver's chest where it grew between the naked pink scar tissue. "How many lovers did you have before me?" She inquired in a neutral tone.

Silver had to think for a minute. "Dozens, a hundred, maybe."

"What's the longest that they ever lasted, not including Scarlet." Vikki knew about the on-again-off-again relationship that had lasted for years between Silver and the agent twenty years his senior.

"Total time spent together, a couple of weeks, tops." Silver admitted. "Usually less, a lot less. Life moves on and old loves get left behind."

"Are there any you regret leaving behind?"

"Silver did not answer for almost a minute. "Yes." He said. "There was one. It was about a year before I met you, on an assignment in Mexico ...."

* * * * * * * *

Monterrey is one of Mexico's most developed cities, with the highest per capita income in the nation. Rich in history and culture, Monterrey is often regarded as the most "Americanized" city in the country. As an important industrial and business center, the city is also home to an array of Mexican companies, and the crime rate has traditionally been one of the lowest in the nation - but that did not mean that it had escaped the ravages of the gangs and the cartels altogether. But there was an old saying, "don't shit where you live" and the cartel that ruled the province that bordered southern Texas, and controlled the flow of a third of the drugs going into the United States, had chosen Monterrey for their base of operations, and they proved to be more effective at curtailing petty crime than the police that once saturated the city.

Living in this peaceful facade were a number of old Mexican families, some of them very wealthy. One such family, at the moment headed by Maria Martinez-Moreno, was in the habit of throwing a grand party every Cinco de Mayo. As part of this celebration of the victory over the French, the matron of the clan would show off an heirloom necklace, reputed to have been seized from the luggage of the deceased French commander.

It was a most amazing piece of jewelry. The chain of the necklace was silver, with successively larger and larger diamonds on each side of its nineteen-inch loop until they came to a huge stone at its nadir. That stone was a flawless clear diamond of ninety carats, not the world's largest by any means, but unique none the less. The thing that made this diamond special was the way it refracted light. Instead of sending it off into hundreds of directions in a glare of glittering points, this diamond was carved to focus light through a twelve-sided facet in the centre. The effect was much like holding a magnifying glass on a sunny day, except the beam issuing from the diamond was perfectly parallel, and did not taper or diffuse over any appreciable distance. During the dark ages it had been worn as the center piece in the crown of Frankish kings as they sat in judgement over penitents brought before them. The jewel focused the light of the torches and lanterns behind the throne into a fur-singing beam that often set the supplicants on fire. It was a form of medieval 'trial by fire'; those that survived the glare of the king and his burning crown were deemed innocent, and the rest were left to burn to death at the foot of the throne.

Maria Martinez-Moreno was very proud of her necklace, and the fact that her husband's company paid him enough as CEO to afford the elaborate security that the insurance company demanded, just so she could amaze her gusts by demonstrating the way the "Stone of Judgement", as the diamond was known, focused the light of the chandeliers into a ray whose warmth could be felt across the room.

Her Cinco de Mayo party was by invitation only, of course, but any aspiring social climber could get on the list for a price, so it was not uncommon to see unfamiliar faces in the crowd of Monterrey socialites. Tonight there were two in particular that caught the eye of many a city patron.

One was a vixen, of average height, with a mound of curly black hair, startling bright red eyes, and a gold ring through her left ear, which was shredded near the bottom, as if bitten in a long-ago fight. That flaw alone marked her as an outsider as anyone with old or new money would have had plastic surgery to mend it. But she had more distracting attributes. Young, in her mid-twenties by all appearances, she was lean and fit, as evidenced by the revealing little black dress that she was wearing. Her ample bust needed no bra to fill out the front of the garment, as most of the males and a few of the females present noted appreciatively. And her tail, a secondary sexual trait for foxes, was huge, vibrant and bushy where it stuck out below a series of ruffles. The white fur on her elbows, a generic trait linking her to the pre-Columbian tribes of the region, went unnoticed to most.

Her name was Gonzales, as the footman had announced upon her entry, and she did not give out her first name as she worked the room. Her looks and her youth drew a small crowd of males, old, overweight but financially secure ones looking for a new mistress and young fit ones with family money who liked seducing then dumping pretty social pretenders like her. They wove suggestive remarks into their conversation without guilt, for why else would one like her be here other than to seek a patron or snare an unsuspecting heir to fortune? And they were experts at this game, but she held her own, leading them on with gay conversation then fending them off with witty or sarcastic remarks, and that just made her more desirable, a challenge. None noticed that the gaiety in her face never reached her eyes.

While most of them kept their suggestive offers subtle, one wealthy industrialist, Pedro Alverez, a smallish canine from Chihuahua who had nevertheless managed to grow a prodigious belly, pushed his way to the front of the group and stood there, his eyes on a level with her breasts. He was well known for rotating his mistresses frequently. "My company is in need of new talent." He said, not even pretending to look up into her face. "And I can see that you are a vixen with much to offer. I have a lot of influence on the Board, perhaps I can offer you a position."

"On my back, no doubt." She shot back, although she smiled seductively as she said it. "And with that belly it is impossible to see if you really have anything to offer." She patted his tummy where it was straining the buttons of his shirt as she spoke, but she turned the patronizing gesture into something promising when she slid her paw around and underneath the bulge, where she let it linger for a heartbeat. "Well, perhaps your influence does extend as far as you claim."

Alverez's eyes and mouth went wide with surprise as well as delight and he waved a digit at her as she stepped back out of arm's reach. The rest of the group laughed appreciatively. They were quite content to stay there, ignoring the wrath of their spouses or mistresses, whichever they had brought, because of the way she seemed to light up that part of the room. It was if things were more animated in her surrounding than they were for the rest of the party, most of the rest of the party.

There was a similar knot of partygoers on the opposite side of the hall, although this one was predominantly female. In its centre, standing taller than the bevy around him, stood the other stranger, a fox in a black tuxedo. Gonzales found her eyes drawn to him as she absently sparred with the male contingent.

He may have been born with black fur, but now it was so shot through with white hairs that it looked like old silver. When the pack parted momentarily to let a waiter through Gonzales could see that his chest and shoulders were wide, and that they tapered nicely down to his waist. His tail was large too, and as silvery as the fur on his head. He was impressive, but not unique by any means. Gonzales wondered what the local females saw in him that was so special. Intrigued, she manoeuvred her group of admirers nearer.

On closer inspection she could see his natural good looks were punctuated by the hard lines of his face where hard living had etched ridges and ravines into his face as well as a prominent scar that divided his left eyebrow, the kind you got dueling, or in a knife fight. He also had a puckered patch of flesh on the back of his left paw, the scar from an old burn perhaps, a deep one. She could see it when he raised that paw to sip from a glass of champagne, not French champagne of course, not at this party, it was from Argentina, a country on good terms with Mexico. Although he appeared bored at the chatter of the matrons and maidens that surrounded him his stance was alert and he exuded physical prowess. Overall, he looked dangerous, and that, she supposed, was why the female socialites were attracted to him. Studies had shown that females tended to chose a mate who looked open, honest and gentle to raise their children, but that the same females would prefer the silver fox's type for the act of procreation itself.

It was difficult to determine his age, but after studying him for a few more moments Gonzales guessed that he was in his forties, at least. It would take at least that long to create that kind of facial geography. She did not realize that she was staring at the fox until he turned and locked eyes with her. His were blue-grey, the colour of angry seas, and as cold as the arctic.

After a few seconds that felt like they lasted much longer, he turned back to the pack of females and rejoined the conversation. They were discussing the French, and he was defending them, an audacious thing on Cinco de Mayo. But he was charming, pointing out the nice things that the French had given the world, like champagne, fine pastries, and lingerie. He was speaking English, which most of the upper class Monterrians knew, but he peppered his argument with French phases and idioms to illustrate his points. It was scandalous, and the females were lapping it up.

Gonzales was tempted to join in just to see how he fared against an opponent with some wits, but she had other business here and had to focus on that.

As the party wore on she found fewer and fewer males gathered around her. A stray bit of conversation she caught explained why. The word was going around that she was one of Hector Juarez's girls.

Hector and his younger brother Ricardo ran the local cartel.

The cartel they commanded was not atypical for Mexico in that they controlled their empire by violence and by dealing death to all rivals, but there was a slight difference in that most of the truly horrific violence they wrought was carried out by Hector personally. Ricardo was not as much of a 'paws on' kind of guy.

Hector and Ricardo were jaguars, golden toned with black spots and they looked almost like twins, but Hector was distinguished by having only one eye. The other was scooped out by a rival gang member in a fight years ago, but a dangling eye had not stopped Hector from breaking both of his opponents arms and ripping his living guts out. Hectors bloodlust had only grown worse over the years. Now whenever anyone defied him he not only killed the rival, he raped and killed the women in their immediate family, wives, daughters, mothers, aunts - grandmothers if that was all they had - before killing them and his opponent.

Hector had one need other than the one to hurt and humiliate his enemies; he needed to have a bevy of good looking, slim, and cheeky Muñecas about him. Gonzales fit the description to a "T" and their hostess, distressed at all the attention the little slut was getting, had let it slip that she was here on the invitation that had been extended to the Juarez brothers. She always sent an invitation to the front company that they were listed as executives of because to exclude them from Cinco de Mayo would have been considered an insult, and no one dared insult Hector Juarez. He never showed up, gracias a dios, but sometimes one of his minions did.

No one dared lay a paw on one of Hectors girls, which explained the sudden disinterest in the young vixen. That was fine by Gonzales. It would make it easier to slip away from the party when the time came.

She bided her time until the guests started to head outdoors where the cooks had prepared a barbeque. While she waited she sipped water from a wine glass and eavesdropped on other's conversations. Most of it was mundane gossip, with the occasional bit of business thrown in. But a rumour was spreading that the tall silver fox was a security expert sent by the insurance company that carried the policy on the famous necklace, here to evaluate the current system and upgrade it as required. Gonzales smiled at hearing that. Shortly afterward she stepped out of the main hall and went toward the female's washroom, but as soon as she was out of sight of the other guests she made a beeline for the salon.

It was locked, but from the ruffles on her dress she produced a brass key that turned the antique lock and slipped inside. Feeling for where the wiring plans filed in 1927 indicated the switch she found it and pushed the top button to flood the room with light. Stepping to the right and turning she found the wooden panel that hid the alarm's keypad and swung it open. A red light was blinking angrily, and would continue to do so for fifteen seconds, and then the alarm would sound unless one entered the correct code. She hurriedly punched in the six-digit code that one of Hector's drug dealers had obtained from a client in the Martinez-Moreno household. The butler, or whoever it was, had discerned the number because the keypad had fixed keys. The master of the house had never changed the combination so six of the keys had worn down while the other four remained as sharp as they were when the keypad was installed. Watching the master over the years the employee had figured out the sequence, and had tried out several possibilities over a number of months, entering the various codes when the alarm was deactivated so that the room could be cleaned. On a newer model that alone would have raised an alert at the office of the security company that monitored the alarm, but not on this old thing. The Silver Fox would certainly recommend a new keypad, one with a digital readout where the numbers showed up in a different place each time so the keys wore evenly and a plastic shield to prevent casual observation. But by then it would be too late.

Prepared to run, she held her breath as she waited for the blinking light to either turn green or become a steady red glow. After five impossibly long seconds it turned green, and Gonzales moved across the room to the portrait of the first matron of the Martinez-Moreno clan and felt for the switch that would free it from the wall.

The painting swung back to reveal an antique steel safe with a dial lock. It had been built by the Victor Safe Company of Cincinnati Ohio, and Gonzales knew that she could crack it easily with the digital stethoscope also hidden inside her dress. But, just on a hunch, she dialled in the standard combination that the manufacturer had shipped it with. It did not work. Next she tried the same numbers, but reversed. This time when she turned the handle it rotated smoothly. Folks were as lazy back then as they were now in the computer age; almost thirty percent of ATM cards holders used predicable PIN codes like '1234' or '1111'.

Gonzales rummaged around among stacks of thousand-peso bills and American bearer bonds until her paw found a leather box. It was placed on a pressure switch, she knew, but the switch was deactivated when she shut off the alarm. She pulled it out and opened it to reveal the necklace with the "Stone of Judgement" nestled in its velvet liner. She examined the velvet for signs of any secondary alarms but found none. Another fault for the silver fox to note she supposed. As a final test she lifted the necklace out of its box and held it up toward the ceiling light fixture. The beam that issued from the central facet was as strong and straight as the one she had seen demonstrated in the great hall. This necklace was not a decoy, it was the real thing.

She had no idea why the jaguars wanted the necklace, other than the fact that it was beautiful and incredibly expensive. It was probably Ricardo who wanted it she supposed, his tastes ran to collecting beautiful objects, unlike Hector who preferred to be surrounded by living beauty. And that was why Gonzales was here stealing the necklace, because she wanted to get in good with Hector, to get close to him, close enough to touch.

And why did she want to get that close to him? Not to kill him, oh no, although the thought had crossed her mind. No, Gonzales certainly wanted a piece of him, but not like that. She wanted a sample of his DNA, because unbeknownst to the citizens of Monterrey and the Juarez brothers Gonzales was a cop.

With a third of the northbound drug traffic flowing between Monterrey and Texas it was inevitable that the Juarez brothers came in contact with the other gangs doing business on both sides of the border. Some they partnered up with to get the goods across or distributed them on the American side, others they eliminated to widen their territory in Hector's typically brutal fashion. But Hector did not stop at criminal rivals, his arrogance had grown as his influence spread and now he considered police officers, judges and politicians that tried to curtail the family business his rivals. He was no less brutal to them, nor did he balk at raping their female relatives as he did those of the hardened criminals that stood in his way. And with millions of dollars going into the pockets of American officials to look the other way he had recently started using his cruel and violent tactics north of the Rio Grande on those few that proved incorruptible.

Those crimes had proved too much for their hired politicians in Texas to deflect completely, but they still managed to complicate the work of the police considerably. Hector had left plenty of DNA evidence at the scenes of his crimes, usually inside the orifices of his victims and their families, but the corrupt officials, a Superior Court Judge in particular, blocked the extradition request because there were was no proven link back to the one-eyed jaguar. He also made it clear that only a sample of undisputed origin, something collected by a peace officer from the person of Hector Juarez himself for example, would suffice to get the extradition order approved.

Of course, Hector was not about to give over any of his fur or bodily fluids to the police voluntarily, and he was very, very careful about leaving anything of himself where others could collect it. That is where Gonzales came in. As a rookie homicide detective with a chip on her shoulder and a lot to prove had volunteered to go undercover south of the border, the homeland of her parents. She had already acquired certain skills to 'assist" in her investigations, like how to pick locks, how to break into a luxury car, advanced burglary techniques, they all came in useful when warrants were unlikely or evidence needed to find its way into someone's possession. Whatever it took to make the case, Gonzales was willing to do. By doing so she had already earned a reputation on the squad as someone who got things done. Her application had been accepted. Her job was to get close to Hector and collect a good sample of his DNA, something that she could attest had come from the jaguar himself and, if possible, given freely to her.

Not that Gonzales really wanted to touch him, she would prefer not to, but she was willing to do anything to get a sample of his DNA, including yiffing the bastard and sticking a cork in her quim until she could get his spooge back to the lab in Huston, even if she had to walk all the way.

She had spent the last nine months working her way into the folds of the cartel. First she hung out in the clubs where Hector found most of his girls, but she didn't stand out enough to be selected for his harem on looks alone. She dated some of the local muscle and began working her way up. After she met some of the mid-level bosses she let it be known that she was looking for work in their line of business. They gave her a couple of minor courier jobs as a test and with the help of her task force she pulled them off without a hitch. After significant amounts of drugs passed through her paws without being intercepted they started to trust her, to let her in on cartel business. When she heard that the brothers were setting up this heist she jumped at the opportunity to take it on. Success was bound to get her noticed by Hector, for it was said that he appreciated talent as much as he did beauty.

Putting the necklace down for now, Gonzales reached behind her and produced a copy of it, placing it in the box just where the real one had been. As far as looks went it was a perfect match for the original, the forgers had found plenty of images online to work from, but it would never duplicate the beam that the real "Stone of Judgement" produced. It was also supposed to be a match for the weight, and she hefted the box to see if it felt the same as when she had taken it out. Satisfied, Gonzales reached behind her to secure the real necklace in its hiding spot, returned the box with the fake to the safe and spun the dial to lock it. Then, after replacing the oil painting, she strode toward the door to reset the alarm. But she was brought to a halt halfway there by a voice from behind her.

"Leaving the party so soon Gonzales?"

She froze. The voice had been male, and had spoken in English.

"Turn around."

Gonzales turned slowly, wondering how the intruder knew her name. In the back of the room, by a set of tall windows flanked by thick curtains, stood the silver hued fox. He was pointing a silenced automatic at her head in a two-pawed grip.

"You are looking lovely tonight." He spoke in a light tone. "That black dress really sets of your red eyes. However, it needs something. Hmmmm .... some jewellery I think. A Necklace perhaps?"

"That would be too dressy." She responded. "Like wearing a tuxedo to barbeque." She tilted her head to indicate the cashmere and silk concoction he had on.

"Touché. But it was all I had in a pinch. It's so had to pack for these sudden short trips, you never know what you'll need." His voice turned serious again. "Let's see it." Cursing herself for not bringing a gun she reached back to fish the necklace out of hiding place. "Excellent." He said and held out his left paw, the one with the burn scar. "Toss it over."

"Listen mister, you don't want to get involved with this." She said, thickening her accent to sound more like a local. "The folks I work for don't take kindly to those that interfere in their business."

"I'll be long gone before Hector or Ricardo get wind of this," the fox assured her, "because I'm sure that you won't be rushing right over there to tell them you failed. Hector takes even less kindly to those that let him down, or so I hear."

Damn, this chump knows everything. Gonzales thought desperately. She couldn't trust a security consultant with the fact that she was undercover. Even if he did believe her he would probably sell her out to the cartel; most of these guys went into the 'security consulting' business after they were kicked off whatever police force they had been on, usually for being too violent or being on the take. And all of them were swinging dicks when it came to females.

He had the drop on her, so she shrugged and tossed the necklace over, deliberately throwing it far to the right and low. He moved like a cat, crouching and sliding sideways like the star goalie of the Rayados, the Monterrey soccer team. He caught the necklace with his left paw before it could touch the ground and was up standing again in a blink. At no time did the point of aim of the big black silencer ever leave her face. Holding the jewels and the gun in the same paw, he reached under the left side of his jacket. When it reappeared the gun was gone but he still clutched the necklace. Transferring it to his other paw he pulled open the right side of his jacket and dropped the necklace into the interior pocket. Then he re-buttoned his jacket and patted the bulge the large diamond made in the perfectly tailored tux.

"If I knew I would be I'd be taking more than their virtue from the ladies down here I would have had Mario add a little more material around the midriff." He quipped.

Yeah, another guy who thinks his dick drags on the ground, she thought. That thought gave her an idea. She stepped up as close as she dared, stopping only when she saw his shooting paw twitch toward the hidden holster. She summoned all the feminine allure that she could muster and directed it toward the silver fox.

"You don't understand mister. Hector'll kill me if I don't bring that necklace back." She clasped her paws as if begging and leaned in closer, giving him a good whiff of the perfume she was wearing. "Hector'll do horrible things to me, horrible!" As the taller fox did not retreat she moved even closer, spreading her arms entreatingly while making sure her bare bust was visible down the front of her dress. "You gotta help me." She pleaded.

"I'll help you by giving you a head start. Start running and don't look back until you're back in Texas. Oh, don't look so shocked. I may not speak Spanish but I have a good ear for accents, and you are no more Monterrian than I am."

Bastard! "Wait! I'll help you nail him. You can protect me, a big strong fox like you." She began rubbing her paws across his chest, being careful to keep them away from the gun or the pocket on the other side that held the necklace, least he think she was going for one or the other. After seeing the way he could move she was not about to take her chances. Not yet. She had to wait until he was distracted. "You are from the insurance company, right? The head office?" He did not move a muscle to acknowledge, but Gonzales had a feeling that she was on the right track. "Take me back to the States with you. Hector won't follow me there. He don't want that kind of trouble. And maybe," her paws drifted south until they encountered a thick, pulsing lump just below his beltline, "maybe we can take the necklace with us? We could live like kings on the proceeds."

The fox snarled, "Forget it sister" but he did not push her away. She took the opportunity to move closer against him, using her leg to rub the growing bulge in his crotch while she caressed his abdomen. She pushed his bright red necktie aside and deftly slipped a couple of his shirt buttons out of their holes so she could get a paw inside. She let her digits pay along the lines of his hard muscles. His left paw was under her dress and on her ass now, squeezing one cheek rhythmically and pressing her tight against him. She angled her paw up under his short to tease his nipples, which she was willing to bet had grown hard already. But she paused when her sensitive pads encountered nothing but bare flesh.

He gazed down on her with those intense blue-grey eyes, sucking air through parted lips as she explored his chest. She traced a broad band of scar tissue that ran left-to-right across his ribs before going back on a diagonal, turning left again where one nipple should be, but wasn't. The scar ended just above the right nipple, forming a jagged 'Z".

"Holy crap! You manage to piss off Zorro the last time you came down south?"

"Try my back." The fox was breathing heavier now, and both paws were on her ass.

Gonzales popped another one of his buttons to make room and reached around under the thin material until she found similar ridges on his back. Tracing them with her digits she determined that they were shaped similar to a Twitter hash tag symbol, or a Tic-Tac-Toe grid. The muscles on his back were as thick and firm as those of his chest, and she wondered who could have held him down long enough to inflict such damage. Unfamiliar sympathy mingled with animal magnetism and despite her plan to remain detached she found herself growing wet enough to leave a damp spot on the leg of his tuxedo pants where his thigh pressed against her sex.

Gasping for air herself now she reached for the buckle of his belt and tore it open. Hooking the tip of one claw in the handle of his zipper she pulled his fly down and let his pants slide to pool around his ankles. He was wearing loose boxers with a large slit held closed with a single button. She slipped it out and was rewarded by a tube of warm throbbing meat that was already growing harder in her paw. She backed away a bit and stroked it with one paw while moving to open his shirt with the other. He stepped out of his pants and kicked them back out of the way.

"No." He said, pushing her paw away from his chest and replacing the buttons that she had already opened. "Leave it on."

"You got to let me take that necklace, silver fur."

"There is no way that I can let you have the necklace, Gonzales." He panted as he moved a paw around to rub her swelling mons though her sodden panties. "The Juarez brothers can never get their paws on it. And you can call me Silver

Gonzales was really begging now. "Silver, Hector will eat me alive if I don't get it!"

"Not if I do it first." With that the silver fox grabbed her damp panties on both sides and pulled, tearing them from her. Then her grabbed her around the waist and lifted her high in the air at arms length. Fortunately the mansion had fifteen foot ceilings, so she was in no danger of being knocked unconscious as he carried her over to a chest of drawers that stood against the wall. The armoire was over five feet tall, and when he set her down on top of it her groin was on a level with his muzzle. He flipped her legs over his shoulders and drove his head forward until his jaws engulfed her, and then he began lapping and licking greedily as she writhed against him.

She gripped his head between her paws and leaned back as his clever tongue found little Gonzales, a hard button of flesh hiding in the folds of her vagina. He flicked it back and forth and then ran the tip in circles around it, teasing it out into the open. Between ministrations he stuck his tongue deep inside her, which produced a constant flow of nectar for him to swallow. When he did so his front teeth mashed against her clit exciting it even more.

This was not exactly the position that Gonzales wanted him in, but the ravishing of her lower regions felt good, damn good. So good that she was tempted to let him finish her that way, but it was only a fleeting thought. She had an opportunity to recover the necklace but not from up here. Despite how good this felt she needed to get on the same level as him, still, she let him do the rounds twice more before she grabbed his head and roughly pulled it back.

"Enough!"She cried, even though her hips were trying to buck closer to that talented tongue. I want you inside me ... now!"

The fox that called himself Silver did not speak, he just lifted her up and stepped back clear of the furniture as he lowered her. Gonzales wrapped her legs around his hips as he widened his stance for balance. She reached down to grab his quivering cock and guided its tip toward her waiting slit. A quick rub against the entrance for lubrication and it was in. Then she put her arms around his neck and bit him hard on the cheek to keep from screaming as he used his powerful arms to inch her down onto him. It felt like she was being split in two. When her clit made contact at the base of his cock he reversed direction and raised her up until just the tip the tip remained inside her. Now fully lubricated, he let gravity bring her back down hard enough to make his balls slap against her ass when she bottomed out. He grunted, flexed, and up she went again.

For a time she rode him like that, face buried in his shoulder, flexing her thighs as he strained his shoulders and digging her feet into his ass when he let her drop to get as much of him inside her as she could. His digits dug into her cheeks as he raised and lowered her. His breath came in gasps, not from the effort, he had not even begun to sweat yet, but from the sensation of her tight twat sliding up and down his pole. She could feel every ridge and vein on its surface as it drilled into her and he could feel the grip of her inner lips on each withdrawal, as if they were reluctant to leave him behind.

She did not know about him, but this would soon be over for her and she was not quite in the right position for what she wanted to yet. The next time she came down she resisted when he tried to lift her up. He cocked one eyebrow, the one that the scar bisected, and she grinned back. Slowly so as not to tip him, she unhooked her ankles from behind him and stretched out one leg, bringing it around parallel to the ground like a ballerina. When it was sticking ninety degrees straight out to the side she lowered it until her foot was on the floor beside his. It was a good fit. She was long in the leg and although he was tall it was mostly in his torso. She could stand comfortably without straining and he did not have to bend his knees to keep from lifting her off the ground or stand on his toes to stay inside her.

She took her arms off his shoulders and grabbed the lapels of his tux to pull him toward her. She planted a deep kiss on his mouth as her hips began to oscillate.

The Silver fox just had to stand there as she used her arms, leg and hips. Pulling with the leg wedged under his tail, dragging him in by the jacket and then pushing him back with a paw against his chest. All the while her pelvis rocking madly on his cock, kneading it with hot tender flesh as she used his pole to massage her clit and tickle her insides. Their faces were welded together, his tongue was exploring her mouth and occasionally battling hers. He had one paw on her butt to help regulate the motion of her hips and the other was up inside her dress, pulling on the hardness of her nipple. Juice was flowing freely from her and she caught the coppery scent of the fluid that leaks from the penis when orgasm is imminent.

Now timing was everything. She wanted them to come together, and she was almost ready. Reaching down and under she found his sac bouncing around below them. She took it and squeezed it gently, drawing a groan of pleasure from him. Searching for where the tubes entered his body she pressed one digit against them and held it there. She waited until she could feel the pressure building up behind it and then she shifted her angle so that the top of his cock rubbed viciously against her clit. The pressure was building inside her too, and it felt like she was swelling up inside. She broke off the kiss and leaned back, staring fiercely into his eyes, her mouth half open and put her other paw behind her back for balance,

When she was ready she pulled her digit off the base of his testicles and fondled them again. They jerked in her paw as he fought to stave off the orgasm, but the combination of the caressing paw and her slippery twat on his shaft was too much. A cry almost of anguish was torn from his lips as his hips spasmed and liquid lava shoot through him and into her. Right on the edge herself, the jerky motion of his stiff cock on her aching clit was enough to tip her over, and she gasped out a series of expletives as her insides turned to water, hot water that squirted out around his cock and soaked them both.

She was done, but he was still hard and he was still moving against her in long, slow loops. Each time her clit came in contact with him it sent a jolt through her, a series of miniature orgasms, shorter, but just as intense as the first one. Gasping for air she wrapped her arms around his thick chest under his jacket. She could feel the butt of the automatic against her right arm, but she ignored it. Finally the big fox slowed and stopped, and his erection shrank inside her, but it did not disappear completely. There was a promise and a challenge in its refusal to retreat, but she had no time for that now.

She stepped back off him, bringing her other leg down gingerly because it was a bit cramped for being in that awkward position for so long. His prick popped out of her and hung there between them, swaying in the warm salon air, glistening with moisture. She could feel the remnants of her orgasm mingled with his cum dripping down her thighs. He reached under his jacket, making her breath catch, and produced a large kerchief. He used one side to wipe the spooge and essence of vixen off his shaft, folded it to expose the clean side and offered it to her. She took it and silently wiped under her dress. Then the two stood there in the middle of the room, just looking at each other.

Gonzales broke the silence. "I guess I better be hitting the road if I want to get over the border before Hector gets wind of my failure." She held the kerchief out for him to take.

"Yes you should." He folded the cloth smaller and slipped it back inside his jacket, opposite the bulge where the necklace sat. He bent and retrieved her torn panties from the floor and passed them to her. "Sorry about these."

"No problem. They weren't my best pair." She found her shoes where she had kicked them off on entering the room and slipped them back on as she tucked the ruined underwear into the ruffles of her dress. "I guess there is no sense in leaving you my number."

"No. If Hector is as bad as you claim he is I'll have to getting out of town too, and I'm not going to Texas, I live a little farther north." He retrieved his pants and put them on, tucking in his shirt before buckling them tight.

"Yeah, you don't sound like a southerner. But you're not from New York or New England. Detroit maybe?"

"Close enough."

She had all her things. "Walk me to the door? I wouldn't want anyone stopping me on the way out and having the security guy with me will keep the staff from getting suspicious."

"Sure." He said, unconsciously toughing the bulge in the right side of his jacket. "Let's go." He reset the alarm and held the door for her while the exit delay counted down. They were out and the door closed before the time had expired.

They walked side by side, not touching but very close together, down the wide main hallway to the large double doors that let out to the driveway. The hostess had thoughtfully reserved a number of taxis for her guests and Gonzales got into the first one. Before it could pull away the big fox leaned down and spoke to her through the open window. "Take care of yourself Gonzales." He said, and then he slapped the roof of the cab and it pulled away before she could remember to ask how the hell he knew her name.

No matter, she thought as she reached behind her and pulled her tattered panties out, tossing them out the window. She gave the driver the address she wanted and told him to hurry. Then she reached back into the hidden pouch again and, hiding it in her paws so that the driver could not see, brought forth the necklace that she had fished out of the silver fox's jacket while he was lost in the throes of orgasm.

She wondered how long it would be before he discovered that the bulge in his jacket was being caused by a rather expensive but ultimately disposable electronic stethoscope.

* * * * * * * *

Early the next morning the tall fox was just finishing his shower in a third floor room overlooking the courtyard of the centrally located Safi Royal Luxury Towers when the door to the hallway opened and a vixen in a maid's uniform entered. Instead of fresh towels she carried a large stainless steel revolver, a short barrelled Colt Python .357 magnum. The vixen's eyes, the whites gone almost as red as the pupils from lack of sleep, scanned the room. The fox's gun was in its holster hanging from the back of the chair by the desk. Moving silently she positioned herself between it and the bathroom, where she could get the drop on the tricky tod.

The sound of running water ceased. Muted sounds came through the closed bathroom door to indicate that he was towelling his fur dry rather than using the complimentary blow drier. They were followed by more running water, gargling, and spitting as he cleaned his teeth. Finally the door to the bathroom opened and she raised the heavy gun as he emerged wearing nothing but a bath towel around his waist held up by one paw. The horrible scars on his chest were clearly visible and they beckoned her, but she kept her eyes on his face, focusing on his cold blue-grey eyes.

He stopped when he saw her, but his expression showed no surprise. "Good Morning Gonzales." His eyes travelled over the maid's uniform, which was a size too small for her but it was the only one she could find in the supply room that fit at all. "You've taken up a new line of work I see."

"Someone has to clean up after the mess you've made." She jerked the muzzle of the gun to indicate that he should move into the empty centre of the big room and followed him with it until he was out of reach of anything that could conceivably be used as a weapon. "There is fine. You have a lot to answer for."

"Oh? Something wrong?"

"You know damn well what's wrong you bastard! The necklace I fished out of your jacket was a fake. I was two minutes away from the Juarez hacienda when I noticed that the beam wasn't focusing the way it should and had to get the taxi to turn around pronto. As it was I missed the rendezvous and Hector's gang has been chasing me around Monterrey all night. They think that I kept it for myself and if I show up now with a fake and some story about how some private dick screwed me out of the real one they'll just hurt me more for lying."

"Yes, I dropped the real one in a properly tailored pouch beside my holster and pulled the fake I was going to put in its place in the right side pocket so that you could see me doing it. I figured that a girl like you would try to distract me and retrieve it, and I appreciate the way that you did it. If I wasn't expecting it I would not have felt a thing. Would you like your stethoscope back? He half turned toward the night table where her stethoscope lay on top of a pile of pesos, credit cards and other pocket debris. Her digit tightened on the trigger.

"Don't move. You know what I want. Where is it?"

The big fox sighed. "Sorry Gonzales. It was flown out of the country last night. But even if I had it here I could not give it to you."

"You forget who's holding the gun."

The fox released the towel and it dropped to the floor. She glanced down at the sudden movement, cursing herself for falling for it, then cursing at what she saw. In his paw, previously hidden by the towel, he was clutching a small plastic automatic, a type she had been briefed on in her Police Academy days. It only held three shots, and it was most commonly found in the paws of government assassins and secret agents, folks that knew how to use it, in other words. They were at what the American's typically referred to as a "Mexican Standoff".

What to do now? She did not want to fail, but she did not want to die trying to salvage this either. And if the necklace was already gone as he claimed, what use would there be in shooting him, or being shot?

"You don't understand what is going on here!" She cried in frustration.

"But I do understand Gonzales. I understand everything."

"What do you understand? How do you even know my name?"

"Why don't we both put our guns away, sit down and talk." Without waiting for her to accede he stepped backwards and, naked, settled into the room's easy chair, putting the plastic gun on the side table within reach. Gonzales shrugged and sat in the desk chair, but she kept her gun in her paw and pointed in his direction. He shrugged. "Close enough, I suppose." Then he settled back in his chair, his scars glistening in the early morning sun that streamed through the window. He crossed his legs in a manner that might have seemed effeminate if they weren't so muscular and rested his paws on one thick thigh. She was relieved that she would not be distracted by the view down there.

"Let's start with who I am and why you can't have the necklace." He began. "I am not an insurance security officer. I work for an agency that manages problems that the public authorities cannot. It is not an American agency but we work closely with the Americans, and the Mexicans on occasion. I'm sure you noted the unusual effect that the main stone of the necklace has on light?" She nodded. "It is more than just a parlour trick. That stone is so pure and was cut so perfectly that it outdoes the efforts of our most advanced labs. In short, it is the world's most perfect focus for laser light, and the largest. With it, and a considerable power source, one could conceivably build a laser capable of taking out aircraft, ships and even buildings from the safety of space. Nothing could stand against it"

"And your government wants the stone to build such a laser?" She guessed.

"No. My country, and yours, and several others, have signed treaties prohibiting such weapons. To ensure that it is never used for such a purpose it was sent to a diamond cutter in Amsterdam last night. As we speak it is being sliced into a dozen smaller stones, none of which will be able to focus light. A not-so-neutral country contracted the Juarez brothers to acquire that diamond for them, and they in turn sub-contracted you to get it for them. My job was to steal it first if I could, and to prevent you from taking it by any means possible if I could not."

"Would you have ..." Her voice trailed off.

"Shot you? Yes, if you had forced me to. It would have been a shame, killing a cop I mean."

Gonzales' jaw dropped and she almost lost her grip on the Colt. "How the hell did you know that? Not even the Attorney General of Texas knew I was undercover!"

He shrugged again. "We have access to certain databases. When your name turned up on the invitation list I had you checked out."

"Then you know the danger you put me in by letting me think I had the real necklace." She raised the revolver again, in half a mind to shoot the silver fox where he sat.

"No more than the danger you were already in. They already knew that you were an undercover cop. They have a mole in your task force headquarters. That's why they gave you the job in the first place, they were counting on you being able to call on official help to get the diamonds if you had too. They would have killed whoever they hired in any event, to cover up the trail leading to them and their employers, but buy using you they also would have eliminated a threat to the organization. Killing two birds with one stone, you might say."

"I would have died if I hadn't thought to check the stone again!"

"But you did check it again. I was counting on that. Your evaluation reports all mention how meticulous and thorough you are."

"They say that?"

"Actually they say that you are an obsessive pain in the ass, but it's the same thing. So, it all ends good."

"No, it is not all good." She spat. "I might as well be dead now as go back to Huston a failure. I'll be lucky to draw highway patrol in the panhandle. And even if Hector does not come after me he'll still be out there, raping and killing to his heart's content."

"Yes, well, I thought of that, and I did want to make it up to you. I felt that I owed you that much considering, uhm, our close working relationship yesterday. May I?" He indicated a cardboard box half hidden under the side table. Seeing nothing more to lose she jerked the muzzle of the Colt to indicate permission and then pointed it to the floor.

The fox stood up, his flaccid member slapping his thigh as he did, and turned to bend down and retrieve the box. The scars on his back were momentarily visible, and they were as bad as she had suspected from her blind examination of them the day before, worse even. But they did not seem to hinder his movements and a small thrill went through her when his back muscles rippled as he hefted the box. Then he turned to face her.

"I spent the night doing some research on the Juarez brothers and then made a house call to a medical clinic in their old barrio. Then I stopped in on some of the brother's partners and had a little chat with them." From inside the box he pulled the remnants of his dress shirt. It was soaked with blood. "My tux is a write off I'm afraid, but that is what expense accounts are for, right? Anyway, I managed to acquire a few things that you may find useful."

He pulled out a plastic bag and from inside it he drew a sheath of papers and a glass jar. The papers she recognized as email print outs, and spotted Hector's name on several of them. The jar, which held about a quart of cloudy fluid, puzzled her at first, but as he set it down an object inside floated to the front and she could see that it was an eye, a feline eye with most of its stalk still attached. A light went on in her head.

An ancient hospital folder joined the jar on the desk. "That is the eye Hector had gouged out in a fight back when he was just another thug." The fox told her. "The hospital records prove its provenance, and the surgeon that removed it now lives in the States and is willing to testify. There is enough DNA there to get ten extradition orders"

"And the emails?"

"Hector was getting tired of his brother's expensive habits and embarrassing liaisons with male prostitutes. It offended his sense of machismo. He was conspiring with several potential partners to have Ricardo bumped off and take over the whole show himself. But Ricardo controls the judges and the politicians, so it had to be done delicately. Once Ricardo gets a hold of those emails he won't interfere with the extradition, in fact, I'll bet that a judge here approves it in record time. My agency unearthed some other evidence, fake IDs Hector has used and video footage of him in the vicinity of several murders at the same dates as they were committed and close to same times. The details of how to find all that legally once you get a warrant based on his DNA will be emailed to your personal account. Please be smarter than Hector's friends and delete that email after reading it, hmmm?"

"Of course, yes!" Gonzales could not believe her good fortune.

"And here is the number for a guy you can trust to get you across the border." He passed her a slip of paper. You can call from here. I'll also lend you a carry-on bag to put all that stuff in, my box is a bit bloody I'm afraid." He tossed his shirt back inside. "Fortunately they have an incinerator here in a room that they don't keep locked."

She put her gun down on the desk. She did not have a holster for it because she had taken it from one of Hector's goons and did not have time to take his off his belt. "Hey, look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier." She said as she stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of the naked fox. "I wish that I could repay you for ... for all this."

"Well Gonzales, my flight isn't until later and I don't have to check out until noon." He sat down on the king sized bed behind him. Her reached out with one paw and caressed her thigh below the hem of the tight dress. "And I really enjoyed working with you yesterday."

She began to undo the buttons on the maid's outfit. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Silver."

"Silver, right." She leaned forward to nuzzle his snout and adopted an exaggerated accent. "You want your bed made up, Senor Silver?"

"I don't think it needs it."

"Oh, eet weel Senor, it weel.

* * * * * * * *

"So she saw your scars before I did." Vikki was a bit miffed. Silver had been so self conscious of his scars when she met him that she had not seen them in the daylight until the third time that they made love.

"She surprised me in the shower."

"No one ever surprises you, otherwise why would you have taken your backup pistol in there with you?"

"I always carry my back up pistol when I'm working, you know that."

"Hrumpf." She rolled away from him and sat up against the headboard. "So what happened after that?"

"I had some time off coming. After the story broke and the extradition was done I went down to Texas and we spent a week together in a cabin by the sea. We were supposed to stay longer but she had her pick of assignments now that she was a hero and she was anxious to get back to work. Tanner kept paging me asking when I was coming back to work because we had a job in Tunisia. She went undercover again and I went back to prepare for the Tunisian mission. We tried keeping in touch by text but it could be weeks before one of us was able to come in from the field long enough to send a reply. Last I heard she was under deep cover, after a kiddy porn ring, and those kind of investigations can take years."

"What did you like about her?" She avoided looking at him as she asked, trying to seem nonchalant. He wasn't fooled. He rolled over to her and embraced her, caressing the stump of her left arm where it had been sawed off in a bear trap during her first mission.

"She had a glow about her, a glow that seemed to brighten up her surroundings. She also had a zest for life and for her work that was refreshing. She was strong and unyielding; she knew what she wanted and would do anything she had to do to get it. In short, she was a lot like you."

"In short. Isn't there anything you like better about me?" She relaxed, stretching her six-foot three inch frame along his, which was six feet even. With her head resting in the crook of his neck her feet were considerably closer to the foot of the bed than his were.

"Well, you are considerably taller."