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This story was written at the request of a friend of mine when I finished an otter story for another friend of mine. I was happy to do it, though I'm backing off on commissions for a while. Anyway, if you like winter vacations... take a couple of snow days. And check out my new website at http://www.livejournal.com/users/kyellgold where I will be posting stories and other writing-related news and thoughts! Enjoy! * * *

"Snow Days" by Kyell Gold Friday , the skiers poured into the DeMorneau Lodge. The kitchen was hopping from Friday at four through the weekend, so Marshall was glad to have a local kid help out on weekends. The kitchen at the Lodge wasn't much larger than a residential kitchen; after all, the Lodge only had eight guest rooms and three staff rooms, even though they frequently got visitors from elsewhere in the ski resort town of Giancolo. Even so, the two polar bears rarely bumped into each other. Marshall liked Perry and more than once, had asked his sister to bring him on as a full time assistant chef, but on weekdays, there just wasn't enough work to justify it. Friday, too, was the day the staff set up the weekly injury pool, which is where Perry'd gone when Marshall told him the kitchen was close enough to being clean. Wade, the ermine who was the full time waiter and the assistant chef when Perry wasn't in, considered kitchen work below him. He bolted for the staff lounge, or the guest lounge, as soon as his waiting duties were over. They were probably all in the staff lounge now, waiting for Marshall to get there so they could make their pool picks and go out to the clubs or go to bed. And part of the reason Marshall was dallying over the cleaning of the kitchen was that he was on the horns of an unusual dilemma. The pool was mostly a casual thing, five bucks apiece, so the winner each week, if there was one, took home twenty to thirty, or sixty if there hadn't been a winner the previous week. In his ten years at the lodge, Marshall had only once seen two weeks go by without a winner. Despite the casual nature of the pool, Marshall took it seriously. He prided himself on knowing the guests, and being right meant more to him than the money. This week, he knew with his head which guest would be the first one injured, if any. He just didn't want to be right... He'd seen the little otter check in, with the two arctic foxes and the snow leopard. Nothing unusual about a bunch of buddies on a skiing holiday, but Marshall, who'd been working the lobby, had noticed the way the one fox and snow leopard looked at each other, and the way the otter hung near the other fox. He'd deliberately gotten their bags--not difficult, considering Wade was the only other one working the lobby and his eagerness to help a customer was in direct proportion to the customer's breast size. On the way up to the room, he'd learned that the fox with the snow leopard was named Jason, and they were definitely a couple. They teased each other and even did a little surreptitious groping in the elevator when they thought he wasn't looking. He didn't catch the leopard's name, but the other fox was named Davis, and Marshall gathered that Davis was paying for both rooms. He'd invited Jason along, because they were friends, and the snow leopard had come with Jason. The otter spent most of the elevator ride bouncing on his paws and looking around at the elevator, up at Marshall, and back down to Davis. As they spilled out onto the third floor, he bounced ahead of the group and got halfway down the hall before Marshall called, "The room's this way." Without showing a trace of embarrassment, the otter spun around and ran happily behind the rest of them. "Man," he said, "I can't wait to get out there on the slopes! It's so pretty! Did you see the sky? And the way the snow flies off the top of the mountain? Can we go all the way to the top? Is it windy there? I bet it's windy. Good thing we got goggles, huh?" "Settle down," Davis told him. "We'll get out there soon enough tomorrow." He tried to engage the other fox in conversation, but Jason and the snow leopard were padding ahead eagerly to their room. Marshall dropped their bags at the door and paused long enough to hear their delighted "oohs." He smiled and went on to the adjacent room, where Davis was stretched out on his bed and the otter was running from one window to the other. "This is gorgeous!" he said, and flung himself on the bed with the fox. "Thanks so much for bringing me!" Davis pushed the otter away, glancing at Marshall. The otter's ears fell and he slid off the bed, going to sit on his own. Marshall put the bags down, feeling uncomfortable for the first time. Davis got up from the bed, rummaged in his wallet, and handed him a twenty. "Thanks," the fox said without really looking at him. "Enjoy your stay," Marshall said, and looked at the otter one more time. He wanted to put his arm around him and tell him to have fun, that that's what DeMorneau Lodge was for. But it definitely wasn't his place. He backed out and let the door close behind him. Now, approaching the living room that they called the staff lounge, Marshall knew that of all the guests he'd seen check in, the otter had the right combination of enthusiasm and inexperience to be the top choice to hurt himself during his stay. He just couldn't bring himself to pick him. He wanted the kid to have a nice time, and he felt that if he chose him in the pool, he'd be jinxing him somehow. "Hey, Marshall!" Elaine waved enthusiastically at him as he walked in. He grinned and waved back, plopping down into the only chair that could bear his weight. "We got the pool all ready." Hattie, a snowshoe hare like Elaine, but taller and less well-endowed, uncapped a dry erase marker and tapped the whiteboard. "Your turn to go first this time. Guest and injury?" Marshall went with his second choice. "The bobcat in seven. Ankle sprain." Hattie wrote that down, and then added her own choice. "The otter in five. I'll go with sprain too. Elaine?" Marshall saw Wade relax into a blissful smile as Elaine bounced on the sofa, her breasts bouncing with her. "I'll take the otter, um, broken leg." "Wade? Wade!" The ermine sat up straight. "Uh, otter, broken arm." Marshall grinned. He'd worked with Wade for only one year, but Elaine had been here for five, longer than anyone else but him, and he was reasonably sure she was intentionally teasing the ermine. "And Mike?" The scruffy mouse who did most of the janitorial work yawned. "You guys took all the best limbs," he said. "I say the otter, altitude sickness." "Nice one," Wade said. "I forgot about that." "Perry?" The kid looked at Marshall. "The bobcat, altitude sickness," he said. He always picked whichever guest Marshall did. Marshall winced inwardly. Poor otter. Even though he wasn't likely to get all of the injuries, Marshall felt fairly sure he would end up with one of them. And his relationship with the arctic fox seemed pretty recent. Marshall hoped that at least he would get laid a few times. Saturday , Marshall suited up with the Snow Patrol as he did every weekend, helping with the rush of tourists that filled the slope like sand fleas. He got two calls in the morning, one ankle sprain and one altitude sickness. Each time his radio squawked, he was afraid it would be the otter, but the first was a squirrel and the second was a marmot, neither of them residents of the Lodge. He ate lunch alone up at the Cupola, where he could sit and look over the valley. His radio squawked again as he was leaving, and it was on the Growler, a blue slope right next to the restaurant. He called in and said he'd take it, and a moment later he was there on his snowmobile. His heart sank. The figure lying on the ground was the little otter from the Lodge, and his leg was probably broken, if he wasn't standing. Marshall had seen enough to know. One ski was still attached to the boot and twisted at a bad angle. The other ski was completely gone. The strange thing was that the figure standing with him and signaling to him was a tiger in a blue snowsuit, standing next to a female snow leopard in a matching suit. Marshall checked the otter again, but it was definitely the one from the Lodge. "You guys with him?" he asked. The snow leopard shook her head. "We saw him fall. There wasn't anyone with him." "I got him," Marshall said, putting his snowshoes on and getting off the snowmobile. "Thanks for calling me." "Thanks," the otter said weakly, raising a paw as the two felines slid past him. "You get some rest," the snow leopard said, smiling down. "And don't get discouraged!" That left Marshall looking down at the otter, who didn't meet his eyes at first. Finally he looked up the bear's seven-foot height and met Marshall's eyes. He forced a grin. "Took that a little too fast. I guess." "You'll be okay," Marshall said. "Just relax. We'll get you up on the stretcher and down to the Lodge. What's your name?" The question was part of his routine, but he wanted to know and so he was afraid it had come out too fast. "Trent." "Okay, Trent. Right leg hurt?" The otter nodded. "I..." His eyes flicked away and he sounded almost apologetic. "I think it might be broken. I tried to get up, but it hurt too much." "Don't worry about it," Marshall said. "I'm gonna get you onto the stretcher here, okay? I'll try not to jostle you too much." "I just appreciate the help. I feel like an idiot." "Listen," Marshall said, bending over and carefully unfastening the ski that was still attached to the otter's shoe. "There are more accidents on this mountain than the regular patrol can handle. That's why they need me to volunteer on the weekends. Even experienced skiers sprain an ankle or break a leg." The otter studied him, and sniffed, and then his eyes lit up. "You're the bellhop. From the Lodge!" "Yeah." Marshall felt a warm flush that the otter'd recognized him. "Anyway, like I was saying..." He slid his paws under the otter. The kid wasn't heavy at all, even for an otter. "Even experienced skiers...need the Snow Patrol." Marshall lifted, cradling the otter to his chest, and took a few steps over to the snowboggan, which was open to expose the stretcher inside. For just a moment, he hesitated. He liked holding the otter like this. He set the otter down as gently as he could, though he could tell from the sharp intake of breath that he'd jarred the leg a bit. "Sorry." "It's okay. Thanks." The otter settled himself on the stretcher while Marshall secured him. "I'm not really that experienced, is the thing." "You were on a blue slope," Marshall said, cinching the last strap. "You have to have had some experience." "Not really. I mean, I played on the lower slopes a bit and I did okay. I figured it couldn't be too hard." Marshall stopped and stared at him. "This is your first day?" The otter blinked at him. "I did some water-skiing and some cross country, but I've never been on the slopes before." "How did you end up on the blue slope?" Marshall thought he had a pretty good idea, and he turned out to be right. "Oh, I wanted to go up to the top, and Davis said he was going on the blue slopes, so I said I'd join him. He's a pretty good skier. I figured I could watch him." Marshall looked around. "Where is he?" "He went on ahead. I guess he might not have seen me hit the tree." Trent looked to one side, up the mountain. The fox was definitely not improving Marshall's opinion of him. Bringing a novice up to a blue slope was bad enough, but then going on ahead without keeping an eye on him? "Well, you can leave a message for him at the Lodge." "I can call him. He's got his cell phone with him. I just left mine down there. I was afraid I'd lose it in the snow." "All right." Marshall checked all the straps again. "I'm gonna go slow. I braced your leg, so we won't jar it too badly, and you should be fine. I can't hear you over the engine, so just hang tight and we'll be down in about twenty minutes, okay?" "Yeah." The otter smiled. "I'll be cool." "Okay." Marshall closed the snowboggan and tromped back to the snowmobile. He knew the route to the Lodge well, so for the whole twenty minutes of the trip, he could afford to let his mind wander, remembering how the otter had felt in his arms. Maybe he'd dump his inconsiderate boyfriend, and Marshall could... Oh, cut it out, you old queer, he told himself. What would he want to do with you anyway? He wants to be running all over the place, breaking legs, having fun. He doesn't want to settle down with some old fart who cooks in a ski lodge. Enjoy the moment, enjoy the fantasies, and remember that in two days you'll be waving goodbye as he checks out and goes back to his young life. And that made him think, as always, of the bear he'd left behind at the city, when he'd gotten the offer to move up here. He'd hoped Warren would move with him, but Warren had remained behind, his promise to visit still unfulfilled ten years later. Now he was nothing more than a memory for Marshall to torment himself with. They pulled up in front of the Lodge, where there was an ambulance waiting. Marshall picked up Trent out of the snowboggan, stretcher and all, just to be able to hold him again, and set him down in the ambulance. Trent held out a paw to him. "Thanks for taking such good care of me, um..." "Marshall," the bear said, folding his large paw around the otter's. "Marshall," Trent repeated. "I really appreciate it. I'll see you when I get back." "Yeah. Oh, do you want me to call Davis for you?" "Uh...sure. I think he left his cell number at the desk." The otter's expression grew clouded. "I don't know it offhand." "If not, I'll leave a message for him." Marshall patted the otter's chest reassuringly. "See you back here tonight." Trent smiled, and that was the last he saw as the ferret closed the ambulance doors. He killed time in between calls searching for the otter's one missing ski, and was pleased when he finally found it, just before the end of his shift. He dropped it off at the lodge, returned the snowmobile, and drove back to start his shift in the kitchen. Dinner took up most of his time and thought. Saturday nights were always hectic, and on this particular night he'd underestimated the demand for his salmon steaks, so he ran out halfway through the night and decided to substitute rosemary chicken, always a favorite. But he didn't have enough rosemary, so he had to send Perry on a quick errand to the "24," and even a quick errand meant twenty minutes that he was handling all the orders. So he'd forgotten completely about the otter by the time Wade strolled back into the kitchen around 9:30 and leaned against the fridge, watching him and Perry run around. "You seen Elaine?" the ermine said. "I want to tell her the good news. I like to see her excited." "What good news?" Marshall asked absently. "She won the pool. The otter broke his leg." Marshall fumbled the bowl he was holding, recovered, and placed it on the counter. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I brought him down here. How'd you find out?" The ermine's eyes narrowed a bit. "When were you going to tell us?" "Look," Marshall said, exasperated, "I came back from patrol and I've been at it for almost four hours now in the kitchen. Give me a break." "Hey, it's okay," Wade said. "No shame in being wrong every now and then." Marshall kept a rein on his temper. Perry was watching, after all. "How'd you find out?" he repeated. "Oh, that one fox is pretty hammered and he's talking pretty loud. He just now asked me if there are any clubs in town where there's some action." Wade shrugged. "Marshall, you know any gay clubs up here? I don't think there are any." "Uh, no," Marshall said. Despite his other glaring faults, Wade was not prejudiced. His attitude seemed to be that if some guys were into other guys, that left more chicks for him; if some of those chicks were into other chicks, then that was hot. They hadn't talked about Marshall's sexuality at all, so Marshall decided that the question was directed at him as a long-time resident, not the resident fag. "That's what I told him. Just want to double-check," Wade said. "Lemme know if you see Elaine." It was, Marshall reflected, a good thing he was near the end of dinner. Perry could handle the desserts, which was mostly what was coming in now. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said. "Be right back." "I got it," Perry said with a cheerful wave. Marshall made his way past the restrooms to the front desk, where his sister Jenny was on the phone. He waited patiently until she hung up and turned to him. "Hi, Marsh. How's dinner?" "Almost over, thank heavens," he said. "Listen, I want to do a favor for a guest. His friend broke his leg on the slopes today and is in the hospital, and he wanted to send some flowers over. I said I'd take care of it." "Flowers? Is he that kind of friend?" She grinned at him. Marshall spread his paws. "Hey, I just...I'm trying to do a guest a favor." "Okay, sure. Who is it?" "Name's Trent, um...Trent. He's the otter who was in room five with the fox." "Room's under Davis Floyd," she said, checking the computer. "That's the fox. He's the one sending the flowers." "Okay," she said. "No problem. Just generic flowers? Anything specific?" "Just generic," he said. "Get well soon bouquet." She nodded. "I'll call Josie and have her take something over. Charge it to his room?" Here was the sticky part. "Uh, actually, he gave me forty bucks cash to take care of it. So I'll just..." He took two twenties out of his pocket and gave them to her. She didn't take them right away, just looked at him. "Marsh?" "He asked me to send the flowers, Jenny, I promise. Okay?" He waved the bills at her again. "I'm signing them 'Davis,"' she warned him. "That's fine," he said. "Thanks." He walked back to the kitchen, feeling a bit happier. Sunday morning was a busy time for the Patrol, with all the skiers trying to get their last few runs in before leaving. The afternoon was not so bad, and Marshall was needed at the hotel to help with checkout, so at noon, he parked the snowmobile and hurried back to the lodge. He found Hattie in the kitchen in the middle of a cloud of smoke. "What are you doing?" he yelled, finding the stove as much by touch as by sight and turning all the burners off. "We had a room service request," Hattie said sulkily. "Salmon omelette. I figured, how hard can it be? But it stayed runny, and so I turned the heat up, and I think I hit the wrong switch on one of them." He flicked on all the fans, and slowly the smoke began to clear. "All right," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled. Was that all?" "No. I got the rest over here." She indicated a tray with a fruit salad and orange juice on it. "Okay." He peered at the order. "Room five? Why don't you go on. I'll take care of this and I'll take it up." "All right." She didn't even put up any argument, just swept out of the kitchen, coughing. He sighed, threw her burned omelette away, and started over again. Of course, he knew that room five was Trent's room. Just what do you think you're playing at? Well, chances were all the kid's friends had left to squeeze in another day of skiing. If someone was there with him, he'd just leave the food and go. When he knocked on the door of room five, Trent's voice answered, weakly. Marshall opened the door with one paw, balancing the tray on the other. He put on a bright smile. "Breakfast?" "Yeah." Trent smiled. "I slept kinda late." Marshall could see the large cast on the otter's lower leg, as he was lying on the bed above the sheets. Trent was wearing only a pair of boxers, so Marshall could also see his nicely toned chest and stomach. "No problem," Marshall said. "Breakfast anytime." He flipped down the legs on the tray and set it down across the otter's matted chest fur. The poor kid hadn't cleaned up since his accident, probably. "Thanks." The otter looked at the food, then up at the bear. "You're the one who got me down off the mountain, right?" "Yeah." Marshall felt again that flush of pleasure. "I didn't even ask your name." "It's Marshall." The bear realized that he was grinning like an idiot down at the cute little otter. He cleared his throat. "Um, you want some light in here?" "Sure, thanks." Trent picked up the silverware and started to eat while Marshall opened the curtains. "So," Marshall said, "your friends off skiing today?" "Mmyeah," Trent said around a mouthful of omelette. Marshall saw his ears droop. "I guess they'll be back before too long. You guys are leaving tonight?" "Uh-uh." Trent shook his head and swallowed a bite. He was devouring the omelette. "We're here for a week." "A week?" Marshall stopped dead. His first thought was that the otter would be around for a whole week. His second was... "If you're here for a week, don't you think one of them could've stayed down here with you?" Trent looked so upset at his comment that Marshall backpedaled. "Sorry," he stammered, "I mean, it's none of my business. Sorry." "Oh, it's okay," Trent said quickly. "They wanted to...at least, some of them did," he said, more softly. "But I told them to go. I just...I feel so crappy. I already ruined their vacation by being stupid. I didn't want to stop them from having more fun." Marshall wanted to hug him. He said, "That's nice of you. Do you have something to read? I'm afraid the movies here kind of stink on Sunday." "I'm okay," Trent said. "I haven't seen 'Bite Hard 3' yet." "It's just like 'Bite Hard 2' but without the brilliant acting performances," Marshall said, trying to cheer up the otter, and he was happy to see Trent grin. "Oh, it should be something to remember, then." The otter ate the last bite of his omelette, and dropped the fork to the plate. "That was great. Tell the chef I'm impressed." "Really?" Marshall said, and then just nodded. "Yeah, I will." He didn't want to be so forward as to take credit for the omelette right after the compliment. And Trent was digging into the fruit salad now, so Marshall really should leave. "Hey," he said, "you're almost done. I can stick around for another couple minutes and take the tray back down." "Don't you have stuff to do?" Trent said. "Nah. It'll be quiet here until about three or four." "Okay, then, sure." Trent leaned back, chewing a piece of melon. "So how long have you been working here?" Marshall sat in one of the chairs, feeling as though a border had been crossed. He was still tense, but at least he didn't feel like an intruder any more. "Oh, ten years," he said. "Really?" Trent shook his head. "Cool. This must be really cool, living up in the mountains, waking up and seeing this every day. I just wanted to stare at the mountains yesterday morning." "Can you see them from there?" "Yeah, I'm fine," Trent laughed. "Thanks." "This your first time up in the mountains?" Marshall asked. Trent nodded. "I told you." "Well, yeah, but I...I mean, you just said it was your first time skiing. You might've been up here before." Now he felt like an idiot. But the otter just smiled. "You're right. Yeah, it is my first time in the mountains. I grew up by a lake, and I'm going to school in the city. Davis said the mountains were amazing and I had to come see them. He was right, too. I just wish I hadn't..." "Hey," Marshall said, "really, don't beat yourself up. I mean it. I've seen people with lots more experience take worse falls. I saw a guy once, some hotshot fox, took a spill up on Corkscrew-that's a double black diamond slope, second hardest one on the mountain-and broke both his legs and his wrist. He'd been skiing fifteen years." "So that's, like, one limb every five years." Trent took another bite of fruit. "So I just have to go five more years without an accident." "Without breaking anything, at least." Marshall grinned. The otter sighed and reached forward to scratch at his cast. "You ever broken anything?" Marshall shook his head. "I grew up here, though. And polar bears are big and hard to hurt." "I see that." Trent's eyes lingered on Marshall's form until the bear shifted uncomfortably. He's probably just never seen a polar bear before. Don't get your hopes up, dirty old man. The otter looked quickly back to his plate. "So they told me that tomorrow I can walk around a bit. I probably won't be skiing, though. What's there to do around here if a guy can't ski?" "Plenty," the bear said. "The main street has some great little shops. You should make especially sure to see Chima's shop. She does these amazing glass sculptures. And...what else do you like to do?" He congratulated himself on slipping the question in so smoothly. "The usual," Trent said. "Music. Movies." "Shopping?" Marshall asked. The otter grinned. "Well, yeah." "How about street theater?" Trent tilted his head. "Good street theater?" Marshall grinned. "There's a two-person troupe that puts on shows. Juggling and light magic. They're not bad." "Sure. Sounds cool" With some reluctance, Trent finished the last of his fruit. He set the fork down carefully. Marshall noticed. "Should I..." He gestured towards the tray. "I guess." Was it his imagination, or did the otter seem downcast? He picked up the tray in one paw. "If you like...I have some movies I could bring up. Better than what's showing, I'm sure." "I don't want to be any trouble," Trent said hurriedly. Marshall checked the clock. "Look, if I'm here by one, we can watch a two-hour movie and I'll be in plenty of time for my shift at three. Okay?" The otter's response was the biggest smile Trent had seen from him since Friday. "If you're sure..." "Positive. I'll be right back." Seeing the otter smile like that made him so happy he almost wanted to take the stairs so he could skip down them. Don't fool yourself, he told himself for the hundredth time, waiting for the elevator. Save your fantasies for tonight and just make sure this poor kid has a good time here. He deserves better than... "that fox" ran through his mind. He pushed the thought away. Better than to lie in bed with a broken leg. He fetched a VCR and a stack of his favorite movies and was back at room five in ten minutes. "Come in," Trent called when he knocked, and he found the otter sitting up in bed. "Here." He handed him the stack of movies. "Pick any one you want. I like 'em all." He turned to connect the VCR to the TV, and when he looked back to see if the otter was choosing, he saw the little mustelid looking at him with a comically quizzical expression. "What?" "I'm sorry," Trent said with a grin, holding up one of the tapes, "but what are these? Did you get these from a museum somewhere?" Marshall put his paws on his hips. He was glad the otter was showing his sense of humor again, but at the same time, the reminder of the disparity in their ages made him uncomfortable. He tried to set that aside. This is about Trent having fun, he reminded himself, and grinned back at the otter. "Yeah, a museum," he said. "Tell your teacher you want to go on a field trip there sometime, you young pup." Trent giggled. "Sorry," he said. "It's been ages since I've seen videotapes, though. Here, how about 'Trading Places'?" "Sure." Marshall took the tape and popped it in. He'd brought a bunch of comedies and only one semi-serious film, and he was glad his guess that Trent would want a comedy had been correct. They spent an enjoyable two hours watching the movie, which Trent had only seen on TV. When it was over, Marshall looked at the clock and sighed. "I have to get downstairs," he said. "Want me to leave a movie?" "Sure." Trent picked out "She's Having A Cub" and handed the rest back to Marshall. "I'll watch it later, or maybe tomorrow. Hey, thanks for the VCR, and thanks for hanging out with me all day." "Oh, it's nothing." The big polar bear took the tapes back and smiled. "Part of my job." "I thought you were just the bellhop." "Nah, we all do a lot of jobs around here. I carry bags, I cook, and I'm in charge of making sure that everyone has a good time, even young pups who break their legs and wind up in bed." He looked severely at Trent. The otter giggled. "Well, consider your job well done." His good humor seemed fully restored. "Thanks, Marshall." "Call down if you need dinner," Marshall said. "Oh, I'm sure Davis will bring something up," Trent said. "But thanks." Yeah, Marshall thought as he closed the door behind him. I wouldn't be so sure about that. During the movie, when Eddie Murphy's character was exploring his sudden wealth, Marshall had casually asked what meal Trent would order if money were no object. The otter had thought about it and said, "Rock Lobster and Oysters Rockefeller." Marshall couldn't get the oysters, not for a few days, but he knew where to get lobster, and he made a couple calls to get them in for the following night's menu. As dinner was winding down, Jenny walked into the kitchen to grab a couple bowls of ice cream. "Hey, Marshall," she said, watching her brother cut a slice of cheesecake. "Mr. Floyd asked me about the flowers." He didn't know what she was talking about for a moment. "Mr. Floyd?" he said. "Trent?" "Davis. The fox?" "Oh." Marshall focused very hard on the cheesecake. "Yes. Seems he didn't ask them to be sent, but he's very interested in who did." "Maybe it was the other fox." Marshall set the plate on the table for Wade to take out, and avoided looking at his sister. "Maybe it was," Jenny said. "Look, Marshall, he paid for two rooms for an entire week. If he gets pissed off and leaves early because you're sending flowers to his boyfriend..." "How do you know they're boyfriends?" Marshall said. "Just because I found the kid on the mountain and felt sorry for him..." "Elaine found a bottle of lube in their dresser and a condom in the trash, and don't give me that innocent act. I know how well your gay-dar works, remember?" "It's not gonna be like that again," he muttered, deflated. She held the bowls of ice cream in her paws and looked at him for a long moment. "I'm worried about you, too, little brother," she said. "I don't want to see you get hurt." "I won't get hurt," he said. "That's gonna melt." She looked down at the bowls. "All right. Just be careful, okay?" "Sure." But even after she'd left, his good mood was spoiled for the rest of the evening. He lay in bed that night, rehashing her words. It really wasn't like that at all. Yeah, the otter was cute, but he wasn't going to make a pass at him. For one thing, he was way too young. For another, he had a boyfriend, even if the boyfriend was pretty inconsiderate. And he didn't know the boyfriend's cell phone number. Regardless. He shouldn't even be thinking about the otter, and how cute he was. Even if Wade's bed was empty, the ermine having hooked up with some tourist. Even if it had been a long time... Marshall sighed and closed his eyes. The otter weighed next to nothing against his chest, cradled on top of him, slender lithe body pressed against his in all the right places. He imagined the tongue brushing his nose, trailing down his muzzle. His paw traced its path, through the thick fur on his chest and around one nipple, down to his stomach. He was already excited, but he avoided his heavy length, picturing the otter's head moving instead down his thighs and then, only then, slowly up to brush his sac. He gasped, and imagined the otter's smile at his reaction. He felt the soft tongue lick up his sheath to the base of his now-firm erection, and then hesitantly brush the flesh. His soft pawpad was callused from years of kitchen work, but moistened, it made not a half-bad tongue. Stroking himself up and down, eyes closed, he smiled. Of course the otter would know that he liked it slow and easy, would slide his tongue up and down just like that, would have both paws holding his bare rear, and would put his muzzle down all the way over Marshall's shaft right...about...now. Moaning, he took himself fully in paw, and brought his other paw to the tip. For five minutes he teased himself as the otter, who would be playful, he thought, bringing him to the edge and letting him go back down before bringing him back to the edge again. Finally, his body tingling, he made the otter's head move up and down, fast, arched his back, and grunted as his seed splashed into his paw. The bed creaked as he shuddered, filling his paw, but he had enough practice to keep his fur dry. He let himself relax for a little while afterwards before going to the bathroom to clean up. Monday morning he got the lobsters from the market and put them on ice for that night. After breakfast, he tidied up the kitchen and prepared for lunch, trying not to hope that a call would come for room service for room five. Towards one o'clock, Wade sauntered into the kitchen and said, "Table two would like to present their compliments to the chef in person." "What?" Marshall looked up from the chicken sandwich he'd just finished. "Here, this goes to table four and we're all caught up." The ermine took the plate and shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "Table two. Fox, snow leopard, otter. They asked me if you were cooking, I said yes, they said they wanted to compliment you on the lunch. Did you do something special for them?" "No. I didn't even know they were there." Marshall grinned and followed Wade out into the dining room. Only two of the six tables in the small dining room were occupied. Trent and his friends had taken the best table, the one right next to the railing overlooking the back window with the view of the slopes. Marshall smiled and waved back at the otter's enthusiastic wave. Trent wore a nice white shirt, with distressed jeans and some kind of silver necklace to go with it, and he looked even cuter, if that were possible. Marshall wondered for a moment whether his friends had helped him walk, then saw the silver crutch leaning against the railing behind the otter's chair. "Good to see you up and about," he said as he got close to the table. "I had to," Trent said. "I couldn't lie in bed another day. I'd have gone crazy. Even with the movies you loaned me. Jason, Trey, this is Marshall." Marshall had been worried that the fox with them would be Davis, but even before Trent had introduced him, he'd known it wasn't. Foxes all looked fairly similar to him, but Jason's ears were up and his eyes looked happy. His casual t-shirt bore the slogan, "Attention to De-Tail," which Marshall seemed to remember was the slogan of some fur shampoo a few years back. Somehow, he doubted that Jason was wearing it to promote the shampoo. Regardless, Marshall's image of Davis would never in a million years have included that shirt, nor the casual smile; on top of all that, he was clearly sitting with the snow leopard, both of them across the table from Trent. "Nice to meet you," he said, extending a paw. "Jason, and Trey, was it?" "Yeah. Hey, thanks for hanging out with Trent yesterday." Jason shook his paw, then ceded it to Trey. The snow leopard, nearly as tall as Marshall, wore a wool-lined vest over his bare chest. When he shook the bear's paw, Marshall saw the long fur ripple with the muscles underneath it. Construction worker, he guessed. "Oh, I enjoyed it. I try to make sure the guests all have a good time." "Do you usually watch movies with them?" Jason asked, and there was a bit of a sly undertone in the way he said it. "Jason!" Trent said. "He was being nice." Marshall grinned and shrugged. "I hadn't seen the movie in a while, and I kind of got sucked in." The fox grinned back. "Fair enough. So Trent says there are some street magic performers around here. Will they be out on Monday?" "Probably," Marshall said. "They're out about every day." "You know them?" Trey asked. "Yeah...not well, but yeah." "What else is there to do?" Jason asked. "Shopping," Marshall said promptly. "Whatever you want, we've probably got it. Cute tchochkes, clothes, crafts, art, books. There are a few artists and writers who live up here and sell their work through shops in town." Trey elbowed Jason. "See, if you finish your novel, you could live up here in the ice and snow." Jason flicked his tail and arched an eyebrow at the snow leopard. "And who's been taking up all my writing time?" The snow leopard leaned back easily and examined his claws. "I don't know what you're talking about." Marshall looked away from them to Trent, who was grinning, and the otter's eyes lit up. "Hey, Marshall, you want to come with us? I mean, if you know some of these people, we'd get to meet 'em, right?" The bear nodded slowly. "If you want to, sure." He ran through a quick list of people who might be out. "You usually don't see the artists or writers around, but there's a musician who might be around. He plays here in the hotel sometimes, so we know him well." "What's he play?" Trent asked. "Guitar." "Ooh, nice. So can you get away?" Marshall thought of the lobsters. "I'll need to be back by four," he said. "But I can get away 'til then. If you're sure. I don't want to intrude." "Sure," Jason said, and Trey gave a calm smile and nod. Jason and Trey walked together, sometimes behind Trent and Marshall, sometimes ahead. Marshall showed them his favorite craft store, stopped to watch the street show, and they spent a pleasant half hour chatting with Dave Farrel, the red fox guitarist Marshall knew. The town was in full tourist season mode, looking especially beautiful with snow on the roofs and the streets glistening in the afternoon sun. Painted signs swung gently in the breeze over the sidewalk, advertising the simple wood and brick shops that lined the street. Behind the snow-covered rooftops, the mountains provided a serene and majestic background to the small town. The sun lit the slopes in alabaster glory, making Marshall glad Trent had chosen this day to walk around, so he could see how beautiful everything was. The otter was limping along on his crutch, talking happily about how nice the town looked and his hometown, a place called Hilltown somewhere in the Midwest. "Is that where you're going to school?" Marshall asked. He'd never heard of Hilltown. "No, no, I'm going to Forester, just down in the city. That's where I met Jason, and Davis. Jason was my TA in English last year, and Davis...he knows Davis from a while ago." "Oh. I went to Forester." "Really? When did you graduate?" Marshall chuckled deeply. "I didn't. And I don't think I want to tell you how long ago I was there. I dyed my fur orange one year, let's just leave it at that." "Orange?" Trent giggled. "A big orange bear." Marshall coughed. "Forester's a good school," he said deliberately. "Okay, I get the hint. So why didn't you graduate?" He glanced down at the earnest face. "You don't really want to hear that." "Sure I do. Come on, I want to know how you ended up with a cool job like this. Maybe I should drop out too." Marshall grinned. "No, no. Stay in school. I dropped out because...I was majoring in sociology, and at the time I thought I could learn more by being out in the world than by sitting in a classroom." "Uh-huh." "Well," he shrugged. "I guess I did. But I worked a lot of odd jobs for a while, and then took a year of cooking school, kicked around some restaurants, and then..." He waved a paw. "You and your wife run the lodge?" Trent asked. "Oh, no," Marshall said, "that's my sister. Her husband owns the lodge and she runs it. They bought it ten years ago, and asked if I wanted to come up here and cook for them. I did okay the first few months. Only poisoned two guests. So they kept me around." "You cook really well," Trent said. "Honestly. I'm picky about what I eat." Marshall grinned. "Thanks. It's nothing fancy. I try to do the best I can." "It's really good," Trent repeated. "Jason and Trey said so too." Trent had been walking more slowly, though he insisted he was fine, and Trey and Jason had gotten ahead of them. Marshall looked at the two, walking casually together with their tails brushing every so often, and said absently, "They make a cute couple." The otter stopped and shot him a quick look, then relaxed. "Yeah, they do. They've been going out almost a year, I think. Or a little over a year. Something like that." "Cool." Marshall smiled. "I heard if you make it to a year, usually odds are you stay together a while longer." "I hope so." Trent walked along without talking for a few minutes, and then said, "So...are you married?" "No." Marshall flicked his ears. This was where Trent was going to ask him about his personal life, and he wanted to let the otter know he was gay. Why? So you can indulge your fantasy a little longer? He shook his head. Just to share more, deepen the friendship. He felt that knowing the otter's preference and keeping his hidden was a little unfair. And yes, he conceded, there was that tiny spark of hope underneath it all. "Seeing anyone?" Trent said. "Nah. There was someone, back in the city, but...they didn't want to come up when I moved here. And we lost touch." There. The pronoun game. Trent could read that, he was sure. "That's too bad." Trent looked up at the mountains. "This is such a pretty town. I guess all the tourists might get annoying, though." "Sometimes." Marshall grinned. "Sometimes they're a lot of fun." They arrived at the end of the street, where Jason and Trey had stopped to look across a small park. "Looks pretty over there," the snow leopard said. The park stretched from the street back to a small copse of trees, where they could see snowy mountainsides through a narrow gap. In the park itself, the only features of interest were a pair of benches, set to either side of the path, and a sculpture set back from the path itself that looked like nothing so much as a cluster of narrow brass triangles. "It is." Marshall pointed across the park. "There's a bridge over the stream and a small path on the other side. About twenty minutes' walk down, there's a really nice overlook." "Oh, do we have time to see it?" Trent looked longingly over the frozen mud of the path. "Just about," Marshall said, eyeing the sun. "Can you make it?" Jason asked the otter. "Sure!" Trent pretended to do a little dance. "I'm fine! I'm-ow!" He landed on the cast and almost tipped over. Marshall reached out to steady him. "Easy," the bear rumbled, but his grin faded when he saw how downcast the otter looked. "You guys go ahead," Trent said. "I'll wait here." "Nah, it's okay," Trey said. "We can go some other day." "It is really nice today," Marshall said. "Tell you what. Would you, uh...what would you think if...I did, um, carry you that one time." "Oh," Trent said, his ears folding cutely down. "I, uh..." "I'll carry the crutch," Jason said brightly. "I really couldn't ask you to..." But the otter's body language said that he wanted to go. "It's no trouble," Marshall said firmly. He crouched down. "Put your arm around my shoulder." Trent looked at Trey and Jason, and got encouraging waves from both. As he put his arm around the bear's shoulder, Jason took the crutch and swung it around. Trent yelped. "Hey, careful with that! I'll lose my deposit!" Jason held the crutch as though it were a sword. "Careful? D'Artagnan is never careful! Come! I will clear a path for his lordship!" He jumped ahead onto the path, swinging the crutch wildly. Trey trotted after him, grinning, and the two of them drew curious glances from the wolf sitting on the bench as they passed. "He's silly," Trent said with a grin. "It's cute," Marshall said. "Hold on." The otter's arm tightened over his shoulders. He slid his other arm behind the leg and cast, and carefully scooped him up. "Ah, no problem," he said. "You must have been dieting." Trent folded his ears back and grinned. "You're really strong. For a cook." "I do rescue, too, don't forget." Marshall walked easily down the path. He felt he could carry the otter for an hour or more. Even through the shirt he was wearing, he felt the kid's body heat, and the nice tone of his young muscles. "Oh, I haven't," Trent said, so softly it was almost to himself. Marshall walked slowly, enjoying the experience. Trent seemed reluctant to talk at first, especially as they walked past the wolf, but when they went under the trees and he saw the setting sun polish their needles with orange and red, he regained his voice. "I love sunsets. We used to have this place in Hilltown where you could watch the sun set across the cornfields. There was a grove of pine trees, but I never saw them in that light. It's so beautiful. Oh, look there at the shadows!" The bear grinned at the otter's enthusiasm. As they continued across the bridge, Trent squirmed to look down at the water, and sighed. "If I didn't have this cast on, I'd want to jump in there." "It's freezing," Marshall said. "Yeah, but you and I could jump in. Wouldn't want to get the foxes wet, though." Marshall laughed. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea." "Ever seen a wet fox?" Trent grinned. "They're usually not happy," Marshall said. "Not a bit." Trent laughed. "Unless they're at the pool. I actually have seen foxes swimming at the pool. They look very silly." Marshall grinned. The path wound down a gentle rocky slope past more stands of conifers, and they were alone on it. Even when he could see a couple hundred feet ahead, he couldn't see Jason and Trey. They'd gone on ahead, he guessed. He walked down a stair someone had set into the path, and then paused before the final turn. "Now, close your eyes," he said. "I want to surprise you." "Okay." Trent squeezed his eyes shut, and that's why Marshall was the only one who definitely saw Trey remove his paw quickly from the front of Jason's pants as they rounded the corner. The snow leopard was standing behind the fox, holding him with one arm as they both looked out over the valley. His now-free paw was dangling awkwardly in the air, then settled around Jason's stomach as both of them grinned abashedly at Marshall. The bear supposed they'd heard him talking about them as a couple, or else they'd just been too engrossed in each other to hear him coming. "It's a very romantic view," Jason said. "So it is." Marshall grinned. "Open your eyes now." He felt the otter's gasp, and tried to see the sight with him, as if he'd never seen it before. The earth fell away below them, tumbling down precipitously to a river gorge whose roar was just barely audible. On the other side of the gorge, stark rocks dotted with bushes and snow rose in jagged thrusts, leveling off about fifty feet below them to a long snowy plain that Marshall knew was a meadow in summer. At the far end of the meadow, beyond a sizable frozen lake, the ground sloped upwards through a dark pine forest into a mountain again. "Wow," Trent said softly. Marshall set the otter down by the railing, so he could look without craning his neck. His chest swelled with pride; after all, this was his home, and he was more than pleased by the otter's reaction. "Not many people come down here any more," he said. "I discovered it by accident a couple years ago." "Really nice," Trey said. He cinched his arms tighter around Jason, who wagged his thick, bushy tail in response. Jealousy joined the pride in Marshall's chest. Gently, he pushed it aside. Just because he'd like to do the same to the otter, that didn't mean he should begrudge these two their fun. As a matter of fact, he thought he might let them finish what they started. "I'll need to get back in a few minutes," he said. "I can take Trent's crutch if you two want to stay here a bit longer." Jason nodded emphatically, and Trey grinned at Marshall. "Sure. And if you see anyone coming down the path, uh..." "Greet 'em real loud," Jason said. Trent turned and looked from the couple to Marshall and back. "Oh, uh, sure, whenever you're ready, Marshall." The bear gathered the crutch and the otter, and started up the path. Twenty feet up the path, he distinctly heard a fox's yip behind them, and he and Trent grinned at each other as they kept going. He took great joy in putting the lobster on the menu, and was even more thrilled when two orders for it came in from the table where he knew Trent and his friends were sitting. The two lobsters that went out to them were the largest he could find, with extra care taken in the presentation and a little bit of extra garnish. The rest of the dinner seemed to hum along at a rapid pace, as slow as Monday usually was, and when Wade poked his head in and said that one of the guests wanted to come in and compliment him, he dusted off his paws and grinned, waiting for Trent to come in. An arctic fox walked through the door, and not for a second did he think it was Jason. The haughty tilt of his head, the lazy smirk on his muzzle, and the elegant, impeccable suit he wore said his name as loudly as if he'd worn a name tag. "I wanted to compliment you on the lobster," he said. "For a small kitchen, it was quite adequate." "Thank you," Marshall said stiffly. "Trent seems to have an inflated opinion of your culinary skills," Davis continued, "but this isn't the worst boarding-house food I've ever had." He looked around the kitchen and sniffed. "I'm more impressed now that I see where it was prepared." "I appreciate the compliments," Marshall said, gripping the edge of the counter with a paw. He had ten years' practice being polite to guests, but he'd never had to deal with one who wore a veneer of politeness over such a poisonous temperament. "And I appreciate you looking after my date while I've been enjoying your slopes. I just wanted to tell you that you could do without the flirting from now on, okay, chum?" "What?" Marshall jerked back, startled out of his anger into guilty surprise. Flirting? That was all in his mind. How...had he been that obvious? Had Trent noticed, too? "Please. We're both men of the world. I know how attractive he is. Why else do you think I chose him to come along? And I'm sure cute gay boys must be hard to come by up here in the sticks, so I have an idea of how desperate you are. But you have to realize that he is nowhere near that desperate. I mean, what are you? Forty? Forty-five?" "I'm..." Marshall shook his head. "No, look, I haven't been..." "Carrying him down to an overlook that was apparently so romantic that Trey and Jason were still panting from it at dinner?" The fox's tone grew sharper. "Sitting with him to watch movies? Loaning him 'Trading Places'? And 'Titanic'?" "Oh, but..." Davis held up a paw. "I mean, really. Was that your idea of subtle? Was he supposed to watch that and say, Golly, maybe I should dump my rich fox and run off with this poor bear who enjoys life to the fullest? I have a bit of news for you. I am at least fifteen years younger than you are. I'm no Billy Zebra, and you are twenty years and a suite of plastic surgery away from being Leo DiVulpio. Do you really think that you have a chance with him, you old fruit? Yes, I know he's got a thing for big guys, and you might have even gotten him into bed, which is why I'm here telling you politely to quit with the flirting. Got it?" Marshall's head was reeling. His paw gripped the counter again, but not out of anger this time. His whole body felt like it might tip to one side at any second. He was trying to figure out if he'd been intentionally flirting, what he'd been thinking when he picked out the movies, how much he'd enjoyed carrying the otter, and during all this a detached part of him was saying, Trent has a thing for big guys? Davis watched him patiently, and then said, "Well, I trust I've made my point. I'm sorry if I had to be blunt. I wanted to be sure there were no misunderstandings." "No," Marshall said. "All right. Thanks for the lobster." The fox raised a paw, looked around the kitchen again, and walked out. Marshall cleaned up the kitchen mostly through sheer force of habit; when he found himself sitting on his bed a couple hours later, he had no memory of having cleaned. His mind and emotions were whirling, scattershot bursts of contradictory thoughts and feelings, and even by the time Wade sauntered into the room close to midnight, the bear hadn't managed to sort them out. The ermine had just gotten laid, and if Marshall for once hadn't noticed his usual I-just-got-laid strut, Wade removed all doubt. "Woo!" He loosened his shirt. "That bunny is one fine piece of tail. You see her at dinner?" "Uh-huh," Marshall said absently. "I took her out back, for a walk under the stars. Little chilly, so I used the old let's-huddle-up move, got my arm around her, you know? She wanted it, though." "Uh-huh." "Sure hope nobody moves into that place two doors down. She got all hot when we were lyin' there lookin' at the stars. Whew! Starlight, starbright, Wade is gettin' some action tonight!" "Uh-huh." The ermine peered at him. "She had four arms, too. That always turns me on." "Uh-huh." Wade snapped his fingers in front of the bear's face. "Hey, Marshall, yo. Planet Earth calling." Marshall looked up. "Huh? Oh. Nice. She sounds really sweet." "All right, out with it." Wade plopped himself on the bed next to Marshall. "Come on. It's that otter, isn't it?" Marshall jumped, shifting the mattress so that the ermine bounced up and down. "What?" "Something's on your mind, and I know we're not good friends or anything, but we're roommates and the only two guys here, and guys look out for each other. So go ahead, tell me what's goin' on." "Don't worry about it," Marshall said. "Oh, come on." Wade spread his little paws. "Look, I don't know shit about cooking. I can barely wait tables. But trust me, I do know about makin' time with the ladies." "What makes you think I'm after a lady?" Wade grinned. "Okay, that's better. We're talkin' now, see? I know you're not after a lady, Marsh. I heard about that thing a few years ago from Hattie, and Elaine told me about the boys in five and six, and I know you've spent the past two afternoons with that otter, so give me a little credit here." Marshall didn't really want to discuss the details of his private life with Wade, but he sure wanted to talk to someone. If he talked to his sister, she'd bring up that other thing, and he didn't have anyone else. He sighed. "Well, he's still not a lady." Wade waved a paw. "Same principle applies. So what happened? He turn cold on you? Or boyfriend warn you off?" Damn. He did know his stuff. "Boyfriend," Marshall sighed. "Great!" Wade patted his knee. "So you're still in the game. If he turned cold, it's a lot more work." "What?" Wade leaned in. "Boyfriend's always going to warn you off. That's fine, that's cool. You can turn that to your advantage." "How?" The ermine grinned, and his little tail thumped the bed. "Because, if she-he, I guess-if he's not pushing you away right off, then that's the first step right there. Means he's not entirely happy. So the boyfriend coming to warn you off, that's because he's worried he'll lose her. Or him. So that's a good sign. So what you do is you mention it to him. Tell him his boyfriend seems pretty jealous and possessive, and maybe you shouldn't see him any more." "But I want to see him!" Marshall froze. Saying it out loud seemed to crystallize the feelings in his head. He did want to see the otter again, was really enjoying his company, and yes, maybe that feeling had the potential to grow into more. "Sure you do," Wade said. "That's the beauty part. When I do that with a gal, guaranteed-guaranteed!-first thing she says is, 'he doesn't tell me what to do.' You get that, you're in like Flynn. Now he wants to be with you because his boyfriend doesn't want him to. It's like they get a thrill out of rebellion or some shit, I dunno. Plus if you act like you don't wanna threaten the relationship, they like that 'cause then you're not coming on too strong. Makes 'em resent the boyfriend." "But I don't want to make him resent his boyfriend." "Sure you do. That rich prick? You should hear him talk about this place. He said the décor was 'neo-chintz' and kept going on about these places out west in Beechwood and Summit that he knows." The ermine snorted. "He was pissing me off, and I didn't even pick out the curtains." Marshall shrugged. "He's free not to like it. We don't have the money those places in Beechwood and Summit have." "Hey, I like it. And your otter pal likes it too. He said so." "Really?" Marshall's ears went up as he turned to look at Wade. The ermine was grinning. "There ya go. Yeah, really." "Well..." Marshall hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more trouble. But if Trent was really not happy with Davis, and if he liked Marshall, then maybe he could ignore Davis's warning. "Look. You need my help, like to distract the fox or something, just let me know. I'll do it." "Why are you so interested all of a sudden?" The ermine crossed to his own bed and stretched out on it. "I been here, what, a year and a half? I'm gettin' all kinds of action left and right, and you...I don't think I've seen you even look at someone since I've been here. So now I know why the ladies don't interest you, and I guess we don't get that many gay boys up here, so I figure this is a big thing for you, and I wanna help out." "Yeah, but..." Marshall was struggling between not wanting Wade to be involved at all and being desperate for any help he could get. "I mean, I never helped you out at all." The ermine turned his head so Marshall could see his grin. "I never needed it." "All right, look. I'm doing just fine on my own." The bear lay back on his own bed, grumbling. "Sure you are. I'm just saying, if you get into a situation where you need a paw, let me know." The ermine paused. "If it'd make you feel better, I'll come and ask you for help if I need some next time I spot a gal who's givin' me a hard time." Now Marshall regretted pushing for equality. "Uh, sure," he said, because there wasn't much else he could say. Wade chuckled. "Don't worry. Not likely to happen anytime soon. G'night, Marsh." "Night, Wade." He clicked off the light, and though he anticipated tossing and turning for a large portion of the night, he fell asleep almost immediately. Tuesday dawned gray and foggy, a day that would probably end up snowy and would certainly start out busy, with the guests reluctant to head out to ski. Marshall got room service orders for breakfast from rooms five and six. Breakfast in bed, he thought, and tried not to dwell on it. At lunch, Wade came in and said, "Your friends are at table four." Marshall shrugged, though he was glad to hear that Trent was just outside. "He ordered the seafood salad sandwich," the ermine said a moment later, sticking the order up on the rack. "Do something special for it." "Like what?" Marshall showed Wade the plastic container. Through its sides, the whitish-pink mass of the seafood salad was visible. "Can't you make something fresh?" The ermine examined the plastic container. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'll tell him you did even if you don't." "No, don't!" Marshall snatched the container back, horrified. "If I give him this and you tell him I made it fresh..." "What's the difference? He'll be glad you made the effort no matter what it tastes like." "But this doesn't taste like fresh!" Wade grinned at him. "Then you better do something, 'cause that's what I'm gonna tell him." He turned around. "Wade, don't..." The ermine was gone before Marshall could finish his sentence. He wouldn't really. Would he? Yeah. Of course he would. The bear sighed, and looked around the kitchen. There was some leftover lobster. He could make a salad from that. Put some mayo and tarragon in with some lemon juice and shallots, toss the meat with that, put it on a nice sourdough bun... His tension ebbed as he planned the salad, starting to enjoy himself. It didn't take a lot of effort, and when he tasted the result, he was quite pleased with it. He hoped Trent would enjoy it too. Wade sniffed it as he picked up the tray. "Nice. Lobster salad?" "Yeah." Marshall grinned. "Let me know how he likes it." "Will do." The ermine swept back out. Ten minutes later, he was back. "Loved it. Couldn't stop eating it," he said. "I'm gonna wait 'til the boyfriend goes to the bathroom, and then tell him you made it fresh." "Okay. Hey, Wade!" Marshall called, stopping the ermine as he was about to leave again. "Yeah?" "You know which fox is the boyfriend, right?" The ermine snorted. "The one not attached to the snow leopard. I'm not that bad at reading people." He slipped out the door. "He blushed," Wade reported gleefully ten minutes later, while Marshall finished the last of a lobster salad sandwich he'd made for himself. "At least, his ears went all flat and he looked down at the table. I couldn't see inside the ears to see if they turned red. So, you feel better now? You definitely got him on the ropes. Just need to have that talk with him. Want me to bring him in here?" "No!" Marshall said hurriedly. "Not today. I guess...if he wants to, maybe if the fox goes skiing tomorrow." "Good plan," Wade said. "He's looking a little antsy at being indoors. I bet he'll be out tomorrow unless there's a storm." Plotting with Wade felt dirty and wrong, but part of it felt good, too. Hearing that Trent had liked his sandwich and had blushed at Wade's remark made Marshall feel tingly. Having Wade be the go-between was a necessary evil, he supposed, but he wished he could see the otter himself and see his expression. They went out in the afternoon and must have eaten out, too, because that was the last either Marshall or Wade saw of the foursome that day. Wednesday brought perfect skiing weather. Marshall did not, despite Wade's urging, go up to Trent's room as soon as Davis, Jason, and Trey left the lobby. Elaine, who was working the morning desk, had called the kitchen to tell them as soon as the trio left, and Wade just wiggled his ears when Marshall asked him how Elaine had been dragged into this and said, "We're all pulling for you. Nobody likes that fox." For the rest of the morning and through the lunch period, Wade delivered little snippets of information about Davis Floyd as he popped into and out of the kitchen. Like: "Did you know he brought three bottles of fur conditioner just for a one-week stay?" And, later: "He brought some stupid Business Strategy book along to read. On a ski trip! What the hell?" Still later: "You know, his father made his money cheating old people out of their pensions." "All right," Marshall said to that one. "Elaine can't have noticed that from cleaning his room." "Nah, I looked it up on the internet. His father's a corporate lawyer, won a lot of cases for companies trying to default on pension funds. Slimeball. The kid's just coasting through college to go to law school. Least, that's what he says on his blog." "His what?" "Blog. Online journal. He talks about how he just has to get good enough grades that his father can get him into a law school. Real nice guy." "How did you find his journal?" "Oh, it's just out there," Wade shrugged. "Do you do this to the boyfriends of the girls you go after?" The ermine grinned. "Sometimes. If I think it'll help. It's fun." Marshall shook his head. "You are a piece of work." "Oh, come on, Marsh. Get into the twenty-first century. If they're gonna leave this stuff out in public, people are going to find it and use it." "And you ask me why I don't have a computer." Wade grinned. "If you did, you could find all this yourself. Nobody knows stuff about you if you don't post it." "Whatever. Just take table two's order out to them." "Right. Hey, your otter's still not down. Did he call room service?" "Not yet." He did, half an hour later, asking for a seafood salad sandwich again. Marshall panicked, cursed himself for having eaten the last of the lobster salad the previous day, and improvised something with crab and shrimp. Wade watched him with a grin, and when the sandwich was done, told him to take it up himself, but Marshall, still nervous, flatly refused. He didn't want to explain to Wade that he was still having trouble imagining that he would have anything beyond a friendship, that he didn't want to appear flirty again, that he was afraid that he would do something flirty if he went up there in person, and that he was even more afraid that Trent would reject him somehow. The ermine eventually gave up trying to convince him, and took the sandwich, grumbling all the while. The bear was preparing a salad for dinner about half an hour later when he heard the door open and a strange thumping sound. He assumed Wade was tossing dishes onto the counter. "Good," he said. "I could use a paw with these salad bowls, if you can spare a moment." "Uh...sure," Trent's voice said, and Marshall whirled, knocking a bowl over on the counter. Lettuce sprayed across the counter and spilled onto the floor. "Oh, sorry! I thought you were Wade." Marshall shook his head. The otter grinned at him. He was dressed in a plain t-shirt with some retro fifties design on it that Marshall quite liked, blue jeans, and that same silver necklace. The thump had been from his cast, because he was still holding the dishes in his free paw. "If you need a paw, I wouldn't mind helping." "Oh, no, really. I can't have guests in here." Trent put the plate down. "Didn't you say you were in charge of making sure guests had a good time?" "Not in charge of it, but I do what I can." "Well, I really enjoy cooking and I can't think of anything I could be doing that would be a better time than helping out in the kitchen. So if you want me to have a good time, you'd better let me help out." "Listen," Marshall said, "I'm not sure we should be hanging out." "What? Why not?" Trent looked genuinely hurt. "Well..." He hesitated. Would he use Wade's tactics and go over to the dark side? "I don't think Davis likes it." Trent raised an eyebrow. "He went skiing. And anyway, I don't see that it's any of his business. He doesn't tell me who to hang out with." Marshall hoped he was able to hide his shock. He hadn't really expected Wade to be right. Now, if the ermine were right about the rest of it...the very thought made his heartbeat quicken. Trent took advantage of his shocked silence to say, "So?" The bear tried to muster more arguments, but none of them would even convince him, let alone the otter. Besides, Trent was now grinning the most adorable grin Marshall had seen from him so far, and no doubt the kid knew he was being adorable, so it seemed he really did want to help in the kitchen, for whatever reason. "Okay," Marshall said finally. "But if you get tired, back to bed with you. And if my sister comes around...hide." "Deal." Trent hopped into the kitchen, letting the door close. "So what'cha making?" "Salad. This is a simple green salad. At least, it was going to be." He looked ruefully down at the floor and started to scoop the lettuce into his paws. "I wasted a lot of lettuce. Maybe it'll have to be a mixed green salad." "What about one of those salads with all the vegetables?" Trent said as Marshall dumped the lettuce in the garbage and started scooping the rest into a bowl. "Primavera or something?" "You're thinking of pasta primavera, but that's not a bad idea. A garden salad, something along those lines." Marshall tapped his muzzle and then wandered over to the refrigerator. "How are you with chopping?" "I get by," Trent said. "I don't just eat Ramen noodles at school." Marshall grinned. "I did for a month. Okay, we've got some carrots, some radishes, some peas..." They worked together to chop the vegetables, and then moved on to preparing the sauces for the dinner. Trent chattered about his experiences cooking and asked question after question, all of which Marshall was happy to answer. They discussed their favorite meals, their favorite shows on the Food Network, which they both watched avidly, and their favorite restaurants. Surprisingly, several of Marshall's favorites from his years in the city were still open, including Goose's, a small diner near the university that Trent was also familiar with. The kitchen was small, so the first time Trent brushed up against Marshall's side, he didn't think anything of it. The second time, he noticed. The third time, the otter actually lingered, and Marshall looked down to see him happily occupied with trimming the fat off a pile of steaks, apparently oblivious to the touch...until his tail slid over to Marshall's leg, touched it briefly, and moved away. It took the bear a good twenty minutes to work himself up to respond. He saw his chance several times, but not until Trent was trying to reach something that was just a little too high for him in the pantry did Marshall sidle up next to him, lean against him naturally, and pull the box down. Not too quickly, but not too slowly, either. It felt good to him, as though the timing were finally right. He'd gotten at least comfortable enough to chat casually with the otter, joke with him, tell him some things he wouldn't tell just anyone. And the otter was undoubtedly interested in him. Trent didn't flinch or pull away when Marshall leaned into him, and in the middle of a sentence about some movie he'd seen last week, he just stopped, and didn't start talking again until the bear had stepped back. All good signs, if Marshall remembered correctly. When Wade poked his head into the kitchen and managed to stop grinning long enough to tell Marshall that guests were starting to return and that they'd be opening for dinner momentarily, Marshall didn't have any hesitation about putting his large paw on Trent's shoulder when he said, "Thanks for all the help." "No problem," Trent said, and he looked pretty happy, whether at the way he'd spent his afternoon, or the paw on his shoulder, or both, Marshall couldn't tell. "I can't wait to try the pork roast." "I'll leave the radishes out of your garden salad." Marshall grinned. "Enjoy your dinner." "So?" Wade said the first time he came back into the kitchen. "So?" Marshall retorted, but he couldn't help grinning. "So do you have a date? Hmmm?" The bear threw a piece of carrot at the ermine, who caught it deftly and tossed it into his mouth. "No. But it was a nice afternoon." "And?" Marshall shook his head at Wade's smirk. "And you were right." "Thank you." The ermine bowed. "At your service, anytime. Hey, it's supposed to be a pretty day tomorrow again. You'd better not wait to make your move." "Do you actually have an order or did you just come in here to annoy me?" Marshall chuckled as the ermine waved an order slip, and set about making the first batch of salads. The grin didn't leave his muzzle all night. He was a little worried he'd get another visit from Davis, but apparently Trent hadn't talked about his afternoon, or else he'd made it sound more innocent than it was if he had. He didn't see Trent the whole evening either, but that was all right. He had the memory of their touch and the promise of more to come. Thursday morning, he found out whom Davis had visited. When he got down to the kitchen, he found Jenny already there, collecting ingredients and unloading a box of pastries. "Morning," he said. "I can get that. Sorry I'm a bit late..." But the clock read 6:25, plenty of time for him to get breakfast going. She turned to face him, paws on her hips. "I'm giving you the day off. Two days off. Take the truck. Go down to the city and don't come back until Friday at 3. I'll handle the kitchen until then." There was no mistaking her clipped tone, nor the crease in her forehead and the narrowing of her eyes. "What...?" She sighed. "Just go, Marshall. If you wouldn't let yourself get into these situations, it wouldn't come to this." "What situations?" Jenny rolled her eyes. "Please. If you'd just be a little more like Wade..." "What?!" "Okay, maybe not," she said. "But really, this is for your own good. And there is no debate about it." "Well...what am I supposed to do in the city for two days?" "Go see a movie. There's that art house theater you're always going on about whenever you have a day or two off. And while you're down there, you could take my shopping list to the SaveMart if you wanted to help out. We're low on a few things and we'd save a few bucks if you're going down there anyway." "Fine," he said. "Leave it at the front desk and I'll collect it on my way out." "Marsh," she said, but he walked out before he could hear anything else. As he was tossing some things into an overnight bag, Wade practically skipped into the room. "Did she do it? Did she do it?" "Do what?" Marshall growled. "Send you to the city!" Marshall dropped the boxers he was packing and stared at him. "You can't have heard about that already." Wade rubbed his paws together and giggled. "It was my idea." "What?" Wade plopped down on Marshall's bed next to the overnight bag. "The fox went and complained last night. I happened to be nearby. Jenny said she'd take care of it and then said, 'Wade, what am I going to do with him?' So I said, 'Give him a couple days off and send him to the city."' Marshall couldn't figure out why the weasel was so proud of himself. "I thought you were trying to help me!" Wade put a paw to his chest. "You wound me, dear sir. Have you so little faith in our new partnership?" The bear folded his arms. "Okay, what's the punch line?" "Well, you know that bus trip up to historic Sparks Ridge?" "The one the old people take?" Sparks Ridge was historic in the sense that it had been around a long time; its main current claim to fame was that it was situated in the next state over, where gambling was legal. "The very same. It so happens that the bus to Sparks Ridge leaves in about half an hour, and someone just might have suggested to a certain jealous fox last night that an overnight trip to Gambletown with a few hundred bucks might be just the thing to keep a certain otter away from a certain bear." "So I'm supposed to go to Sparks Ridge instead of the city? But Jenny wants me to pick up some things..." Wade pressed a paw to his forehead. "Just be in the lobby in half an hour and take the otter to the city with you, okay?" "But if he was booked on the trip to Sparks Ridge..." Wade sighed. "I have so much to teach you," he said. "Even if the fox had made the arrangements himself and not trusted his concierge to do it for him, it wouldn't matter. The otter will go with you." "You booked the trip?" The ermine grinned. "Now, that would've been silly of me, considering he's not going." "So it'll show up on his hotel bill?" "Oh, no. I wouldn't get the Lodge in that kind of trouble. He paid cash." Now, finally, Marshall understood. "So he paid you..." "To get you to take his otter to the city. Yes, that's about it." Marshall shook his head. "I can't believe how devious you are." "I am a weasel," Wade said. "But don't worry. I promise to use my powers only for good." Trent had been as delighted as Marshall when they first got into the truck, sneaking around the back so they wouldn't be seen leaving together, situating him so he could sit with his cast up, and giggling conspiratorially as they drove out of town. Once they got onto the highway, they quieted down, and Marshall felt a little unease. This was a big step, going away together. Looking over at Trent's thoughtful expression, it seemed that the otter was thinking the same thing, and whether he was or not, the prospect that he might be cheered Marshall considerably. "So," Trent said, "Since we're going to be in the city, I was wondering if we could stop by the university so I could catch my one o'clock class. I'm having someone take the notes for me, but I really like the lectures and I'd like to be there." "Sure," Marshall said. "Oh, dinner's on me, by the way. I think I am going to have a bad streak of luck with Davis's money." Marshall felt a twinge of guilt. "You know what?" he said. "Why don't you just give it back to him and say you broke even? I'll cover dinner." "Okay," Trent said, and then smiled. "So if we're not going to Chez Marianne, where are we going?" "Oh, you were thinking of Chez Marianne? Maybe I should reconsider!" Marshall shared a laugh with Trent. "I was thinking about going to Goose's. I haven't been there in ages. And the Rialto is just a couple blocks away. I don't know what's playing there, but that didn't matter too much back when I was living there. It's always good." Trent said, "You mean, like, experimental film?" He looked cautiously at the bear. "I'm not sure. Back in my day it was, like, Memento was there, Reservoir Dogs..." "Oh, just independent film." Trent sounded relieved. "Yeah, they still do some of that, but lately they sometimes have these crappy experimental films. You know, like, 'we filmed this movie with the sepia filter on, ooh, we're edgy!' I can't stand that. I just want a good story and some good acting." "Amen," Marshall said. "Well, if there's nothing there, we can drive around for a bit." "Sure." Trent yawned. "Man, it's early. Hey, uh...where are we going to stay the night?" "I thought we'd get a hotel room somewhere. If that's okay," Marshall said. "We can get a room with two beds, and I'll cover it." "Well..." Trent said slowly. "If we're going to Goose's and the Rialto, we'll be about half a mile from my apartment. I've got my keys." "Oh, I couldn't impose," Marshall said. "No imposition. I've got a couch. If you're going to cover dinner, let me provide the room." "If you're sure..." "Yeah," Trent said. "No problem at all." The otter dozed for part of the three-hour drive, but while he was awake they talked about the university, got on the subject of families, and before they knew it, they were passing the Loop and heading for the city. Trent directed Marshall to a new SaveMart that was closer than the one he knew, where they got the items on Jenny's list and grabbed lunch in the nearby food plaza. After taking Trent back to the university for his class, he and Marshall walked around the campus so that Marshall could see what was new, and they could trade more college stories. Dinner at Goose's was just as good as Marshall remembered it, down to the pecan pie with butter rum ice cream, and fortunately there was a good movie playing at the Rialto. They grabbed their bags from the truck and walked back to Trent's place from the movie theater, and though their discussion was about the movie, Marshall couldn't keep his mind from imagining Trent's apartment, and what the sleeping arrangements would be once they were there. Even though he would normally be in bed at this hour, he was wide awake and keyed up as Trent walked along a street of row houses and ushered the bear through the door that barely fit his huge frame. "Second floor," he said unnecessarily as they walked up a flight of stairs, and Marshall realized that the otter was as nervous as he was. He fumbled the key at his door and hesitated while opening it, then finally pushed it all the way open and said, "Here it is." Marshall ducked to get through the door, bringing back a memory of agonizing searches for campus housing that could accommodate a polar bear, but at least inside he could straighten up. He looked around at the posters on the walls, all of seascapes and waterfalls. The walls were a sea blue, painted by a tenant, he thought as he looked at the raggedly painted join between walls and ceiling. Trent dropped his keys on the small stand next to the door and walked in. His whiskers twitched. "So, uh, this is it." He pointed to his right. "Kitchen's there. Bedroom and bathroom back there. It's not much, especially for you, I guess, but..." he laughed nervously. "It's cheap." "Hey, I totally understand." Marshall grinned. "Only...that couch doesn't look big enough for me. Unless it folds out." It was more of a loveseat, really, with a worn plaid fabric that made Marshall think it had been donated by Trent's parents. "Oh, no," Trent said hurriedly. "I was going to take the couch. The bed will fit you, no problem." He flicked his ears, and for a moment Marshall saw the blush in them. "I won't turn you out of your bed," Marshall said. "Especially with your leg. I can take the floor out here. I've slept on worse." "No, no, that would be rude of me!" Trent almost squeaked. "I've stayed on the couch, it's fine. And I've been walking on the leg all day. It's not bothering me." "When did you sleep on your own couch?" Trent grinned. "When it was in my parents' basement, okay?" Marshall yawned. "I'm going to brush up for bed, but I am not kicking you out of your bed." Please ask to share it with me, he urged Trent in his thoughts, but the otter remained silent as Marshall went into the bathroom. The white tile had that old smell that comes with long-rented properties, and a small window through which Marshall could hear the sounds of university traffic. He'd almost forgotten what it sounded like to spend a night in the city. He brushed his teeth quickly and went out into the hall, where he met Trent. "The bed," Trent said, pointing. "I've already set up the couch, and I'm going to sleep there whether you sleep on the floor or bed. So you might as well be comfortable." Marshall studied the otter. "All right," he sighed. "If you insist." "I do. It's in there. I'm gonna clean up myself. Make yourself comfortable." Marshall nodded and walked into the bedroom. The whole room was thick with Trent's scent, but it was tidy. The carpet was clean and the bed made, and the closet door closed. The lamp on the bedside table that was providing all the illumination in the room looked as old as the couch, but a little more stylish. Marshall rested a paw on the desk, which was clean of papers, but did hold a stack of notebooks. He smiled, took off his shirt, and sat on the bed. He was still sitting like that when Trent peeked in to wave. "Ah, you found it," the otter said. He wasn't wearing a shirt either, leaving his buff-colored chest ruff exposed, and he'd changed into a loose pair of pajama bottoms. "Yeah." Marshall smiled. "Thanks for the hospitality." "Glad to help." Trent smiled back. They stood looking at each other, neither one talking. The tension in the room seemed to distort the air between them as if it were physical heat. Marshall was struggling to get up the nerve to ask the otter to come over, and he saw Trent's whiskers twitching before the otter took a step forward and said, "Well, uh...good night." The bear smiled. Mustering all his courage, he spread his arms and said, "Good night." A welcome smile broke over the otter's face. He took two more steps and fell into Marshall's arms, hugging him as the bear hugged him back. "Good night," he murmured, clinging tightly to the snowy white fur. "Night," murmured Marshall against his ear. The otter's small, lithe form felt so good in his arms that he didn't want to let go, and the otter didn't seem inclined to let go of him either. "Mmm. G'night," Trent said. He lowered his muzzle to Marshall's shoulder. "Night. Sleep well." Marshall rubbed his muzzle gently along Trent's cheek ruff. "You too." Trent drew his claws through the bear's thick fur. He felt so good. So good. Marshall held him and prayed every moment that the otter wouldn't pull away and actually go to bed. There were no more words, no sound but soft breathing. The next time Marshall glanced at the bedside clock, he saw with surprise that over ten minutes had passed. "Trent," he whispered, and the otter drew back his muzzle to look at Marshall. "Yeah?" The otter whispered, too. Their noses were an inch apart. The bear could feel Trent's breath on his nosepad. We're in that movie moment, Marshall thought excitedly, and there was no question now that they were going to kiss. They moved slowly, deliberately, and when their lips brushed, he shivered. Trent hugged the otter more tightly and pushed himself into the kiss. It had been a while, but Trent's response dispelled any worry he might have had about being rusty. The otter pulled back and searched Marshall's eyes with his sparkling brown ones. "Tell me something," he whispered. "Hm?" "Did you send me the flowers in the hospital?" Marshall gaped at him, and Trent grinned smugly. "Thought so. It was so not a Davis thing to do." "I, uh..." "Shh. Thank you." And then they were kissing again, and Marshall closed his eyes to shut out as many distractions as he could. When he opened them, he wouldn't have been surprised to see that an hour had passed, but amazingly, the clock showed that it had only been two minutes. Trent was nestled comfortably in his arms, looking at him with the quirky smile Marshall had grown very fond of, and the bear heard himself saying, "I don't suppose I could take one more shot at talking you into sleeping in your bed?" The otter's whiskers twitched, and he said softly, "Only if you stay there too." Marshall's pulse quickened. "Deal," he said, and leaned back, pulling the otter into the bed before he could change his mind. They pressed close in the double bed. Marshall's large frame took up most of the space, but Trent managed to squeeze himself in, lying on his side with his broken leg on top. The otter's paws roamed through the soft white fur on Marshall's back and sides, and his smaller size let him slide one paw between them to rub the bear's chest, while Marshall had to be content with letting his paws rub down the otter's smooth back. Trent took advantage of the situation, finding Marshall's large nipples and brushing them with his claws, teasing them until the polar bear squirmed and crushed the otter against him to stop him. Trent giggled, panting a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, but when Marshall relaxed, it took him only a minute to lower his muzzle to nuzzle and then lick at the fleshy nubs. Marshall squirmed, washing his huge tongue over the otter's ears, but it didn't deter him one bit. The bear was shivering from the delicious tingling those licks were bringing, and he was already hard as a rock. Trent could hardly miss the ridge of his erection, as his leg was pressed right against it, but other than rubbing gently along it, he paid it no attention. The scent of otter, the licking, the warm body pressed against him and rubbing, all this was driving Marshall generally crazy. He heard panting that it took him a moment to realize was his own, and after a few minutes, he slid his large paw all the way down the sleek curve of Trent's back, around the tempting line of his tail, and cupped the otter's tight, round rump in a firm grip. Trent made a soft sound of pleasure and redoubled his licking, and now that Marshall was pulling the otter's hips against his stomach, he could feel the long shaft pressing against him through the thin pants, and he knew Trent was as aroused as he was. Not that he'd had much doubt, the way the otter was enthusiastically licking and squirming against him. He'd never been in bed with an otter before, so he couldn't tell if Trent's constant motion was normal or if the otter was just unsually excited, and he wasn't about to stop so he could ask. He made an easy transition from rubbing the otter's rear through his pajama bottoms to sliding his paw down inside and just rubbing against the fur directly, which allowed him to tease a claw up the cleft under the thick tail. Trent squeaked when he did that, and Marshall thought the sound was so adorable that he did it two or three more times before the otter giggled and changed his own tactics. "You weren't really going to wear your jeans to bed, were you?" he whispered, easily unsnapping them at the waist and sliding his gentle paws down against Marshall's boxers. Marshall stayed still while Trent's paws rubbed his hips and then slid inside his boxers, rubbing all around his crotch without touching his straining shaft, and that teasing made Marshall pant even harder. He squeezed the otter's rear and then slid his paw around, unable to wait, and found a warm sac and a long, hard shaft. Trent moaned softly, a long, low "oooh" of pleasure, and shivered as Marshall explored his taut, hot skin, tracing his fingers delicately up to the tip and back down, sliding, not stroking; not yet. The otter's cast slipped twice as his wriggling intensified, almost dragging him off the bed, and the second time, Marshall stopped and grinned. "Let's get more comfortable?" He tugged at the pajama bottoms, which slid down easily, giving him a nice view of the buff-colored sheath and the bobbing pink erection protruding from it. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers over it, soft white fur gliding up and down and getting a little bit sticky in the process, as Trent stood on the floor and tried to work his pajamas over his cast without pulling away from the touch. "Now you," the otter said, and leaned forward, but Marshall stopped him with a paw on his stomach. "In a minute," the polar bear said, drinking in the sight of the naked and eager otter. He sighed. "It's been a long time...and you're very handsome." "Hush," Trent said, and leaned over to kiss him. "You are too, and I want to see the rest of you." Marshall wriggled obligingly as Trent pulled his jeans off, but the otter only got them halfway down before he stopped. "Oh, my," he said, his eyes fixed on the huge red shaft that lay dripping pre onto Marshall's white belly fur. He reached out and brushed it with one paw as though he couldn't believe it was real, then cupped the bear's large sac and leaned over to lick the tip. The polar bear gasped. Trent straightened and grinned at him, licking his lips. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." He tugged Marshall's pants the rest of the way off, and then said, "How about this?" Placing his cast on the pillow by Marshall's head, he swung his other leg over the bear so that he was straddling him face down. Marshall lifted his head and got the otter's dangling balls on the bridge of his nose. He giggled, licking up as he watched Trent stretch out and slide his mouth around Marshall's dripping tip. "Oh, that works fine." Marshall shuddered and reached up, holding the otter's hips in place as he applied his soft, wide tongue to the shaft above him. Trent moaned, taking more of the bear into his muzzle. Marshall wondered distantly how much Trent would be able to take, but that was hardly foremost in his mind. He kept licking while the otter sucked on him, using his paws to help stroke, and at some point he realized hazily that he should really get the otter all the way into his muzzle. That brought a different kind of moan from Trent, which Marshall echoed. How long had it been? He didn't know, didn't care; that count would be reset tonight, and what was important was that it was still familiar to him, that he still remembered how to curl his tongue around and suckle the sensitive spots, how to press his tongue to the underside, and how to keep his teeth behind his lips. He had to keep a firm grip on the otter's hips, too, as he was getting quite squirmy and again threatening to fall off to one side or the other. At least now his squirms and thrusts were mainly downward, shoving his length deeper into Marshall's muzzle as he pushed himself further onto the bear at the other end. The sensations were coming too fast, too strong. Marshall was trying not to thrust upwards, unsure how much the otter's muzzle could take, but he couldn't stop the shuddering. He put it all into his muzzle, licking, pressing, sucking hard, feeling the otter's response. It wasn't going to be fast enough. He clutched Trent's hips and moaned around his cock, putting some degree of urgency into it so that the otter would be warned. "Mmmm," Trent responded. He had both paws around Marshall's shaft and was pumping in time with his muzzle's thrusts. He drove his muzzle down, tongue flicking against the tip again and again, and Marshall's body jerked as he crested over into a loud, explosive climax. He breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes and grunting loudly around the otter's cock as his shaft spurted hot seed into the waiting muzzle. He heard wet coughs and giggles from the otter, but ignored them, sucking hard and breathing hot breath into the buff fur around the sac that was bumping his nose. His paws tingled as he stretched them out, the otter's body was hot against him as he held it tightly in his arms, and the world stopped for just a moment, leaving him hovering in orgasm for a moment before he came drifting back down to the bed. "Mmmm." He panted, and then released the firm hips enough that Trent could raise and lower them again, helping a bit as he savored the taste of the otter and the delicious afterglow of his release. He gave a surprised growl as Trent sucked on the sensitive tip of his cock, trying to clean it, and redoubled his efforts on the otter's own shaft. The otter let Marshall fall from his muzzle, giggling and then panting and moaning, holding onto the polar bear's white hips while his own thrust shakily into the bear's waiting muzzle. Marshall held onto him as his moans grew louder and squeakier, keeping a good, quick rhythm going with his sucking, and a moment later Trent squealed, crying out, "Ohhh, ohhhhhhHH!" and gave a violent lurch that almost carried him off the bed. Seed splashed onto Marshall's tongue; he drank it in greedily and tightened his grip on the squirming otter. Trent seemed to squirm for a long time, even after Marshall had swallowed twice and no more was dripping onto his tongue. The bear held him through all of it, loving the feeling of pleasure his companion was getting as much as he'd enjoyed his own. Finally, Trent collapsed forward, pulling his cock from Marshall's muzzle and plopping it down on the bear's broad chest so that Marshall could stick his muzzle up between the otter's legs, nudging his tail to one side. He stroked the supple curves of the otter's back and tail, rumbling happily. "Whew," he said. "No kidding," came the muffled response. "You wanna turn around?" "I don't wanna move for a bit." "Okay." Marshall grinned. A moment later, Trent did move, sliding off Marshall to stand on the floor. Looking up, Marshall saw streaks in the otter's muzzle fur, and felt sure his ears were bright red with blushing. "What?" Trent grinned at him, and brought a paw to his muzzle. "Oh, yeah. I wasn't quite ready... sorry. I should go clean up a bit." "Sorry," Marshall said, but the otter just giggled. "Don't apologize," he said. "It was wonderful. You were wonderful. I'd kiss you, but..." "I don't care," Marshall said, and reached out his arms. "Mmm." Trent straightened up as they broke the kiss. "Now I have to clean us both up." Marshall giggled, brushing the places on his muzzle where the otter's sticky fur had brushed his. "It was worth it." "Totally. I'll be right back." Trent limped towards the bathroom, lifting his tail to give Marshall a good view of his shapely rear. The bear enjoyed it, but was more worried about the limp; Trent was favoring the broken leg. He propped himself up on one elbow when the otter came back. "Did you hurt your leg?" Trent shrugged, applying a washcloth gently to the bear's fur. "I think I banged it on something. It's just sore. Don't worry about it." Marshall sighed. "I'm sorry. I should've been more careful." "Hush." Trent dabbed the washcloth at his lips, silencing him. He smiled at the otter as the young mustelid moved to clean off his shaft and the places on his belly where his seed had dripped. "Thanks," the polar bear said. "Sure." Trent grinned at him and tossed the washcloth into a corner. He stroked his paws along the white-furred body and smiled. "Anyway, I originally got this injury sliding down some soft white slopes. And these slopes," he said as his paw trailed down Marshall's tummy to his hips, "are much more fun than those other ones." But maybe just as dangerous, Marshall thought. Now that the urgent sexual need had been sated, he began to wonder how Davis and Jenny would react when they found out about this night. He scooted over to let Trent spoon back against him and wrapped an arm warmly around the otter. "G'night," he said, and Trent giggled back, "G'night, for real." And Marshall closed his eyes and snuggled his muzzle between the otter's ears, and lost himself in fantasies of running away with Trent to the city, going back to university, working in a diner or a hotel somewhere, living in a small room together... Friday : "I hope I didn't snore too loudly," he said as they were packing the next morning. "Nah." Trent smiled. "I slept through most of it, and the times I woke up, it was nice and soothing. Like living near a train. A big, soft, white, fuzzy train." Marshall grinned. He'd had a moment of anxiety before Trent woke, worrying that the otter would regret the night before, but Trent had seen his muzzle when he opened his eyes, and the first thing he did was lift his own for a kiss. So it was all right, except for the thing he kept pushing away to the back of his mind, because as long as they were in the apartment, he could keep his fantasies going. On the highway, it was Trent who finally mentioned it. "So, are we gonna be in trouble?" he said. "I'll give Davis his money back, but I bet people will figure out where we were. Davis isn't stupid." Marshall smiled. "I can handle my sister," he said. "Are you going to be okay?" "Yeah, sure." Trent grinned. "I never figured Davis for a long-term thing anyway." Marshall shot him a look. "What do you mean?" "Oh..." Trent shifted. "I didn't mean that. I mean, I don't expect anything...I just meant that if he doesn't wanna see me anymore, it's not a big deal." "Oh." The polar bear felt a twinge of disappointment, which to his dismay felt familiar. He shoved it away. This was never going to be a long term thing either. The otter was cute, sweet, funny, and amazingly sexy, but the age difference...he'd be fooling himself if he thought he had a shot. "All right," Trent said. "I won't worry about it, then." He patted Marshall's knee. "I'm glad you stayed over. I'm glad you slept in the bed." "I'm glad you did, too," Marshall said. "Whatever impression you might get from Wade, I don't do this often." Trent looked ahead at the highway, and nodded quietly. "It means a lot to me," he said, and Marshall noticed that he didn't add, 'I don't do this often, either.' After a moment, he said, "So why is your sister so worried she'd send you away for two days?" This was where Marshall didn't want to go, but he didn't want to lie, either. He had to frame it so that Trent didn't get the wrong impression. "There was one time, a few years ago...we had a big wolf staying with us, and he was..." He trailed off. "Mmm. Anyway. He and I...kinda hooked up, but then he left when his trip was over. He told me he'd write, and he didn't, and he didn't answer my letters. So I was kind of depressed for a while." "Jeez," Trent said. "That's a sucky thing to do." Marshall shrugged. "Men," he said, and Trent laughed. "No kidding. So, uh, if I can ask, how long is a 'while'?" The bear paused to compose his answer. "Okay," he said, "before I tell you, I'm much more reasonable now. That was years ago. I wouldn't be this bad now." Trent folded his arms. "You're worrying me now. Did you just get over him, like, last week?" Marshall laughed. "No, no. It was six or seven months." "Months!?" "I told you, I'm much better now." The otter chuckled. "I'd hope so. If you don't mind me asking...what snapped you out of it?" "You know, I don't really know," Marshall said. "I just realized one day that I hadn't thought about him for a week, and I said to myself, 'if I haven't been thinking about him, then why am I still depressed?' There didn't seem to be any good reason. And then I wasn't depressed. It wasn't really a choice, it was just time to move on." "Whew," Trent said. "If I can still remember someone's name six months later..." He paused and turned to Marshall. "That's a joke." The polar bear chuckled. "I know all about you wild college students. I was one once, remember?" "Yeah, wasn't that back during World War 2?" "Hah. Try double-ya double-ya one, ya young whippersnapper." But even as he joked, Marshall felt a twinge of sadness at being reminded of the age difference between himself and the young otter sitting across the seat from him. Again he felt the urge to just keep driving, run away with the otter from everything. But there was no indication that Trent actually wanted that, though he was certainly very affectionate-they'd hugged in the apartment before leaving and even brushed noses. Now, he was more restrained, but he might just be nervous about being in public. Marshall forced his thoughts back to the road as Trent made another joking comment, and they continued to banter all the way home. He dropped Trent off around the corner from the Lodge and then drove around back, going in the staff entrance. Jenny was already busy in the kitchen, with Wade helping, so Marshall got right to work. The Lodge was going to be full that night, Jenny told him, and they had some visitors from other places, so it was after eleven before Marshall got a chance to relax and breathe, and by then he was so tired that he could do little more than stagger up to bed. Wade wouldn't let him go to sleep right away, of course. "So?" he said, jumping onto the bear's bed. "You look tired. It musta gone well, huh? Tell tell tell!" "Oy." Marshall lay down and draped an arm over his eyes. "It went fine." "Just fine?" "Yeah, fine, great, amazing, whatever." Wade whooped and patted Marshall on the thigh. "Attaboy! Good to get your ashes hauled once in a while. Let me tell you, the fox didn't suspect a thing while you were gone. Though I think he might've once you got back. They didn't come to dinner. I told you that, right?" "Five or six times." "Doesn't matter, anyway. You gotta let this one go and move on. You're back on the horse!" The ermine was bouncing up and down on the bed. "Wade...I'm really tired. I'm really grateful to you, but in about ten seconds I'm gonna kick you right off this bed." "Okay, okay." The ermine bounced one more time and then skittered over to his own bed and jumped into it. Breathing a sigh of relief, Marshall allowed himself to fall into sleep, ignoring the pang of loneliness that came from having nobody to wrap his arm around. Saturday , Jenny met him in the kitchen, her ears flat and a growl in her voice. "I'm firing Wade," she said. "What? You can't do that." She pointed a clawed finger at him. "He orchestrated this whole thing, and if I have to explain for the next six months why everything coming out of my kitchen is overdone, at least I am not going to have that smarmy skirt-chaser delivering my explanation for me with a wink and using the story to get in bed since this is all his fault to begin with." Marshall put his paws up. "Whoa, hang on. Who says he orchestrated this?" "Do not even try that with me. I am this close to firing you too and being done with the whole mess." "Well, fire me, then," he said. "Don't fire Wade. He was just trying to help." She stared at him. "You're sticking up for him?" "Yeah. He was really trying to help. He felt bad for me." "I feel bad for you," Jenny said, "but I don't go taking other people's boyfriends for you to make you feel better. Because I know it's just setting you up for another depressive episode. Why don't you date a local guy?" "It's not going to be like that," he insisted. "Well, whatever it's going to be like, it can't be helped now," she said. "So I'm going to fire Wade just to make myself feel better." "Hey!" he said. "Do not fire Wade. He's a good waiter. Are you going to wait tables? Or get Elaine to do it?" Her eyes narrowed. "She could do it." "Wade's good. He didn't do anything wrong." "Didn't do anything" Marshall sighed. "If I don't get depressed, will you keep him on?" She considered this. He pressed. "Because then it wouldn't affect business at all." "All right, fine. One month." She pointed at him again. "If I hear one tear-laden sigh out of you..." "I promise," Marshall said. "Cheery and happy." "Fine." She swept out, leaving him with the feel of having won a minor victory. He'd hoped to see Trent again, but forced himself not to think about the otter. Soon enough, he'd be gone, and Marshall would have to get used to not seeing him if he wanted Wade to keep his job. So he smiled at the ermine and tried to remember the good parts of Thursday night, and limited his thoughts about the otter to hoping he would find someone better than the fox, down there at university. Lunch sped by, and dinner did too. Perry came in to help, and if he noticed that Marshall was a bit distracted, he didn't say anything about it. Marshall found that the younger bear's presence cheered him up quite a bit, and he wondered whether Jenny would consider his request to hire Perry full time if he told her it would stop him from being depressed. She would, he realized, but then she would fire Wade after all. They put in their picks for the injury pool, and this time Marshall had no qualms about picking the rabbit who'd checked in with hundreds of dollars worth of brand-new ski equipment and apparently less than a nickel's worth of common sense. And then he was off to bed, thinking his day was over. Wade poked his head in, wearing a huge grin. "I've gotta go off for a couple hours," he said. "Pretty little weasel gal at the Copper Beech two doors down. So I'll definitely be gone for a couple hours," he said. "Great," Marshall waved, a little annoyed that Wade was back to his old self so quickly. It almost felt as though the ermine had to flaunt his conquest to prove that he could still match Marshall. And then Wade moved aside and Trent slipped in the door, hopping on one foot to prevent his cast from making any noise. The otter laughed at the polar bear's expression. "Hey, you didn't think I'd leave without saying goodbye, did you?" "What about..." Trent waved a paw. "Jason and Trey took Davis out dancing." He tapped his cast. "I told them I would be fine here." Marshall propped himself up on his elbows in his bed. "Well," he said, "if you come a little closer, I think I can get you further than 'fine'." The otter smiled and dropped his jacket on Wade's bed, and hobbled over into the polar bear's wide embrace. "Mmm. I wasn't expecting to see you again." Marshall nuzzled the otter. "Aw, you thought I'd just take off?" "Well, no, I thought you'd say good bye...I mean, see you again." Trent giggled, and kissed him on the nose. "I couldn't do that either." He rubbed a paw down Marshall's chest, and then moved the kiss down to his lips. Marshall had plenty of room to scoot over on his own bed and allow Trent to stretch out on it, which they almost managed to do without breaking the kiss. Trent nuzzled Marshall's shoulder and flopped his long tail over the bear as far as he could. "I like this room," he said. "You keep it nice and chilly, too. Good for snuggling up." "Well, Wade and I both have pretty thick fur," the bear said. He looked out at the ghostly white snow on the mountains. "You just tell me if you get cold. I'll keep you warm." "You do take good care of your guests," Trent whispered, and during the next kiss, he tugged at Marshall's shirt. Once the shirts had been tossed to the floor, they spent more time cuddling, pushing their noses through each other's fur, and exploring with paws. Marshall enjoyed the curve of the otter's muscular torso, and Trent seemed to enjoy the broad swell of the bear's chest. When he started in on Marshall's nipples again, the bear retaliated by unfastening Trent's pants and teasing at his waistline. Pants soon followed shirts, and once the pants were gone, there didn't seem to be much point in keeping the boxers on. Trent had to stand up to take his pants off, giving Marshall another chance to admire his form, and when the otter came back to bed, Marshall had him straddle his chest. "I like this view," he whispered, looking up at the naked otter, buff-colored fur outlining his chest and stomach and continuing down around his sheath and balls. The polar bear put two large white paws on the otter's thighs, rubbing them and getting a pleasant churring sound from the otter in response. Trent reached back with a paw and drew his pads up Marshall's thick shaft, teasing it as Marshall caressed his body. The bear felt the otter brush his tip and then saw him bring the paw around to his muzzle and give it a sensual lick. "Mm, drippy bear," Trent said, and Marshall giggled. "You're not exactly staying dry yourself." "Oh? What're you going to do about it?" Trent asked, looking down at him. "Mmmmmmmmm, wait and see." But Marshall didn't have the patience to make the otter wait long. He craned his head forward and gave the otter a broad, warm lick. Trent steadied himself, panting, and closed his eyes as Marshall licked him again, and again, and finally closed his muzzle over the otter's bobbing tip. The polar bear licked avidly, savoring the musky taste and the expression on his lover's (yes, we're lovers tonight, he told himself stubbornly) adorable face. With one paw on Trent's hip, he bobbed up and down, rubbing gently down the thick tail with his other paw, holding the little otter in place. Despite the pressure of his paws, Trent was rocking back and forth and moaning in time with the licks. Marshall wondered fleetingly whether Elaine and Hattie could hear them, and then decided he didn't care. The otter's squirming and squeaking was delightful, and he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. "Okay," Trent gasped a moment later, pulling back. "I got a surprise." "It can't be better than you." Marshall watched curiously as the otter rummaged through his jacket and came up with a small tube. "Oh ho." "Yeah." Trent looked down at the bear's cock, lying thick and red on his white stomach. "I wanna try. I think I can take it." "You take me in? I don't want to hurt you." "Shh." Trent caressed his sheath and balls with a gentle paw. "I'll stop if it hurts." "Promise?" "Yeah." He stayed still, waiting for Marshall's approval. The polar bear looked at his cock, and then at the otter's tight rear. He wanted to know how it felt, but it was a big step. He'd only ever actually been inside one other guy in his life, and only had one guy inside of him. From the way the otter was holding the tube and the eagerness in his expression, Marshall didn't think this meant quite as much to him. That was fine. Then Marshall wouldn't let it mean that much to him, either. He nodded. "If you want to." "Do you want to?" Trent countered. "Of course." Marshall grinned. "But if it hurts..." "I'll stop. Really." Trent squirted some lube onto his paw and applied it to Marshall, taking his time and covering every inch of the bear's rock-hard erection. Marshall closed his eyes and stretched all the way out, trying to feel every touch of the otter's small, gentle paws. Just when he thought Trent was finished, the otter started over again, spreading the lube in a stroking motion, up and down. He couldn't get his paw all the way around the bear's shaft, but he could cover the sensitive areas of the tip, and did so expertly. Just as Marshall was about to reach out and stop the otter, Trent lifted his paw away. He climbed back atop the bear's chest and dangled his cock in front of the white muzzle temptingly while his slick paw busied itself under his tail. "Mmm," Marshall said, reaching out to take the otter in his muzzle again. He watched Trent's expression as he did and smiled at the bliss that crept into the otter's eyes. For a moment, he thought that Trent might just come from fingering himself and Marshall sucking him, but then he regained control and backed up. "Okay," he panted. "Let's try this." The bear watched Trent's eyes for any sign of pain as he felt the paw lift his cock and situate it. At the first push back, the hole under his tail felt impossibly tight and Marshall thought it would never work. But the otter must have been just been tense, because a moment later he was opening up as if someone had turned a key, and Marshall's tip was pushing into him. Trent leaned his head back and gasped, "Oh, gods..." "You okay?" Marshall said anxiously. He glanced down at what he could see of his cock, and noticed that the otter's tip was dribbling even more pre. "Yeah. Just let me..." Trent closed his eyes and slid up and down just on the bear's tip, and the strokes of that tight hole were almost too much for Marshall to take. "Trent," he gasped. "Uh..." "Okay...that's better...now...ohhhhhh!" The otter squeaked as he stopped thrusting down and lowered himself further onto Marshall. Good lord above, Marshall thought, both in amazement at the otter's ability to stretch and at the thrill his tight ring of muscle caused as it slid down the bear's engorged member. He reached out to hold the otter's member in return, and started to stroke it as Trent lifted himself up and lowered himself again. "Oh my god," the otter said. "I can't believe how that feels...careful, hon, I'm not going to last very lo-ong!" He squeaked again, panting harder and starting to squirm around Marshall's shaft, and that glorious tight stroking had Marshall arching his back and stroking faster. Trent braced himself against Marshall's chest as he bucked up and down, and this time he came first, drenching Marshall's paw in bursts of his seed. Marshall heard the otter's yelps and smiled, clenching his teeth and stopping himself from shoving the little otter down onto his cock. A moment later, the desire and everything else vanished in a full-body climax. His back arched again, lifting Trent up into the air, and the bear's free paw clawed at the sheets as he grunted and then let out a long, loud moan of intense pleasure. He felt the muscles in his cock clench as he filled the otter with a rush of hot seed. When he finally slid out of Trent's backside, the otter jumped and gasped, and his cock quivered in Marshall's paw. The polar bear grinned and let go, using his free paw to hug the otter to him. "So that was okay?" he panted. "Mmm. I'll probably be sore tomorrow. But it was worth it. Many times over. Oooh. Wow." He hugged Marshall back and wriggled against him, a big smile on his muzzle. "You were pretty amazing too," Marshall said softly. "I was, wasn't I?" Trent grinned at him. "Absolutely." Marshall paused, still a bit giddy. "Glad you came around tonight." "I had to." Trent said. "But I was thinking about what you said, before I did. I know you probably wouldn't get depressed over me like you did over that other guy, but I didn't want to come here if I couldn't promise you that I would write you. And I wanted to wait until we were done with, uh, this, because to be honest with you, twenty minutes ago I would've promised to go ski down the mountain naked if I thought I had to to get into bed with you. So now I just feel happy and sleepy, and of course I can write you. Just give me your e-mail address and I'll send you a note, I promise." Marshall felt his fur prickle at the word 'promise.' "Don't promise," he said quickly. "Don't worry," Trent said. "I write lots of e-mail. It's no trouble." "I don't have a computer and I don't get e-mail," Marshall said. "Oh." Trent rested his head on Marshall's broad, white chest. "That complicates things a bit." "It's okay," Marshall said. "I know you have another life to go to, and I'm a lot older than you are..." "No, I mean, I've already promised," the otter said. "So I have to go through with it. I guess I'll be writing paper letters." "Really," Marshall said, "you don't have to." He was starting to get that feeling again, building up inside him, that here was a sweet, caring guy who liked him, and of course it would lead to more, how could it not? He knew that feeling and he knew the ones that came after it. First with Warren, then with Alexander: the hope, then the short period of happiness before the worry crept in, then the anger, and finally the disillusionment and depression. He couldn't afford himself the hope and the happiness. "I know I don't have to," Trent was looking into his eyes now. "But I feel like I should." Marshall shook his head. "I appreciate that, but I'm twenty years older than you, and..." "So what?" Trent said. "Does that matter to you?" "Well, in another twenty-five years, you'll be forty-five, and I'll..." Trent shrugged. "We'll worry about that twenty-five years from now, if we're still talking. This is the present, right here, right now, and there is no other place I want to be." He grinned at Marshall's blank look. "That's a song lyric. Never mind. Anyway, this is the present, and in the present you are about the sweetest guy I've ever met, not to mention a kick-ass cook and a pretty good lay." "Only pretty good?" Marshall tried to deflect the emotion in the otter's words. "I don't want you getting a big head," Trent said, and then kissed his nose. "Least, not up here....anyway, look, you're a great guy and I don't want to lose touch. I feel like you'd want something stable, something long term, and maybe I do too, but I don't know about that. But you're a keeper, Marshall. So I'm gonna do what it takes to keep you. So there's only one more question I need to ask you, but it's a very important one." He looked directly into Marshall's eyes. "Will you write me back?' Marshall laughed, but the laugh forced tears from his eyes at the same time. Overwhelmed by emotion, he kissed the otter and hugged him without regard for the sticky mess on his paw. "Of course I will," he whispered. "I got the stationery and everything." Trent panted softly at the kiss, and then grinned. "Stationery? What's that? Something like those 'videotapes' you have?" The polar bear growled and tickled his claws down the otter's sides, making him squirm. "Wait 'til you're out of that cast. I'll show you what 'stationery' is." The otter giggled happily. "I look forward to it. You know, if you're down in the city shopping again, you damn well better look me up or I'll come up here and kick your ass." Marshall blinked. "You'd really want me to come see you again?" "If you don't mind squeezing into an otter's bed." "I like tight fits," the bear murmured, and Trent wiggled his rump appreciatively. "All right then. It's settled. Now...how much time do we have before Wade gets back?" The bear laughed and stroked his claws through the otter's sleek fur. "Maybe an hour, a little more...but we just..." "Shh." Trent put a finger to his lips. "Let's just make good use of the time we've got, 'kay?" Marshall smiled into the otter's earnest face and bright brown eyes, and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I think you're right." Epilogue Dear Marsh, Sorry! I know it's been a couple weeks since my last letter. This "pen" thing keeps running out of "ink." Okay, actually, I told you about finals coming up. They were even more brutal than I thought. I was wiped out. Second, though, I wanted to wait until I'd talked to my folks, because they were all stressed out over my broken leg and stuff. Anyway, I went home this weekend after finals and, well, I'm still there now. That's where I'm writing this letter. Dang, it's annoying when you can't just backspace over something and rewrite it. Have I mentioned that already? I'm sure I have. Okay, I'll get to the point. I told them that I want to spend the summer up in Giancolo, get a job and everything, and they did ask some questions, but I told them I had such a great time up there on the soft white slopes that I just fell in love with the place. I said those words, too: 'soft white slopes.' I'm so naughty! But you know that. So they finally said okay, and as soon as I get moved out of my apartment, I'll be up there looking for a job! I hope you're excited. I really am. If you've got seasonal openings at the Lodge, that'd be way cool. Otherwise just ask around and see if anyone wants help. And I'll see you in a week or two! Love, Trent