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Reveille - I get up at 0700 as per usual. I am always up before the bugler makes that terrible racket so that it won't annoy me. I don my officer's uniform: black boots, black dress pants, black jacket, black tie, black cap. My sidearm, a revolver (the only non-black accessory I carry) sits proudly at my hip, fully loaded with six .45 caliber slugs. Although the men carry assault rifles and those are much more useful in a fight, I prefer my handgun.

Out on the battlefield, they'd call me foolish. A man can only go so far with six bullets. But this isn't a field of battle. There are no heroes that scream "Over the top!" and hurl themselves at the enemies in a glorious charge. No. I am stationed in XX-31, a gold mining station. We do fight wars, make no mistake. It is a war that contains no victories or loses. It contains no mortar shells going off or men screaming frantically from either injury or excitement. This war is of the...psychological kind.

Keith Israel is my name. I am a First Lieutenant of the Maxim United Federation Army. My blood type is O and I am twenty-six years old. I joined the army three years ago after completing military school. After that, I was received into the "Home Guard Division" of the army. No battles for me. Eh, I suppose babysitting here at XX-31 is better than sitting at a machine gun waiting for a non-existent surprise attack from the border.

So what do I do? I baby-sit slaves. Or rather, I baby-sit those who baby-sit the slaves. Gold mining, even with our latest and greatest technology, requires a lot of manual labor. I've never been into the mines, because my unit guards the gate and the perimeter around the mine. You can usually find me in the Ranger's cabin, watching my men just stand there, watching a road for suspicious cars that don't come.

Although this isn't what I signed up for, it's what I'm asked to do. Even better: it pays. It's too bad, really. I get paid more than the grunts do who are patrolling the border during the blizzard. Apparently the higher-ups believe that the gold mines are more important than our country's borders.

I was actually just moved here. I was originally stationed at TG-51, a Boot Camp for young recruits. I watched over the new kids who enlisted. God, help them. I can see the determination in their eyes. They are giddy with the thought of being able to carry a gun or stab a foreigner with a bayonet. Still, a military uniform attracts the ladies.

This brings me to my point. The ladies, that is. Officers are allowed to leave on weekends and some of the grunts are too if they have weekend passes. A few weeks ago, I was a 2nd Lieutenant. I took the opportunity to hit the town, a few grunts and a few other officers tagging along. So we went to Maxim's downtown district via a halftrack that seemed to have no other purpose on our base. Once we reached the district, we went to a gentleman's club that had just opened a few weeks prior.

Now, I'm not trying to make myself look like a big shot, because I'm not. But, the truth is that the military in the country is highly respected. A grunt can often walk into one of Maxim's many bars and receiving a devilish wink from a pretty young lady, or a congratulatory pat on the back by an old war veteran. Hell, I walked into a bar one time with my officer's jacket on and before I had even sat down at the bar, the bartender had put a drink in front of me. "On the house." he said, "Your service to this country is truly appreciated, young man."

I am a human, so when I was young I would always get strange looks from morphs. I didn't blame them; my species is on the verge of extinction. Now, when I wear my military jacket, I get nothing but smiles and free beer.

But this is beside the point. Like I said, we went to this strip club that had just opened. As we walked in the door, a topless hostess stood there to greet us. "Good evening, gentlemen!"

Our arrival was like one of those old western movies where this mysterious man walks in a saloon, cowboy boots clacking on the wooden floor and spurs jingling. Everyone in the club turned to look at us. The strippers and the testosterone-laden men sitting in front of them all put their attention on the door. I swear that a tumbleweed rolled by.

Then suddenly, applause. They were all clapping, some of the older men saluting casually. It was if we were the ones performing. Free mixed drinks were put into our hands by more topless waitresses. One of them, a young doe with platinum blond hair, handed me a scotch, and then gave me a kiss on the cheek. A rolled five dollar bill slipped from my pocket into my hand, which I then deposited in between her exposed breasts.

She gave me a second kiss, this time on the lips, a thank you for the tip. She then went away, like we had never even met. This didn't bother me: I knew full well that it was her job to make every man that walked in that door feel like a winner. Keyword: feel. Once the 'winner' had given her money, however, the job was over.

So the grunts and I sat down around a particular stage. A golden pole stood fixed there and we all knew that we would enjoy the show. The lights in the club got dark, and were replaced by neon colors. An erotic pink lined the stage's edges. The air was heavy with the smell of male musk. The grunts, canine morphs though they were, had gotten very excited. Sexy music started to play. It sounded like a bad jazz song, but we didn't care. Then, from behind the curtain, she emerged.

Our dancer for the night was Silk. That was her name, I mean. Silk. Okay, so it was a stripper name, but we soon got over it. We weren't very interested in what her name was as opposed to...well, you get the idea.

So there she was, Silk. God, that name did her no justice. She was finer than silk, satin and lavender put together. She was a red fox. I'd guess around age twenty-five. She had this jet black hair and these lovely blue eyes. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She strutted out on stage with the balance of a cat. High-heeled shoes clacking on the dark stage and hair bouncing as she did so.

She approached the brass pole and immediately set to work. She swung this way and that, extracting groans from the grunts. She swung around that pole like a vertical trapeze. She was knocking me out, too, so I didn't blame them. Silk wiggled her butt in our faces or pressed her breasts together and awaited our reactions. She swung her tail at one grunt, whose tongue hung outside his jaw when she did so. She was killing us with her body and she knew it.

Of course, anything that had breasts could've interested us at that point. We had all abandoned our wives or girlfriends (for me, neither case) to live on a base the required no guarding whatsoever. We had signed ourselves over to a life of service to the state, giving up what little libido we had before leaving. But we could all tell that this girl was a quite the beauty. Male habits die hard.

I think that Silk knew what kind of position we were in. We were physically starved. So she decided to prey off it. She sat down on the side of the stage, noticed me, and then cracked a grin. She watched our reactions as she flicked one shoe off, which the grunts fought over like lions do a piece of meat. She kicked the other one off and it landed softly in my lap.

I should've seen this trick coming, but I didn't. It was bait. And I took it. The shoe landing in my lap wasn't because she thought that I'd look good in a pair of Stilettos, it was an excuse to get off stage and a chance to interact with the customer. Any girl in the business knows that if she can make someone feel special, there's a lot more money involved.

She strode toward me, curling a lock of that long, black sexy hair with her index finger. "Gee, mister, I do believe that you've got my shoe." She said this with a very sexy grin. She circled around me, so that she was standing behind me, where I couldn't see what she was doing. She wrapped her arms around me from behind, those silky black-furred forearms sliding over my jacket like two writhing snakes.

I played along: "I agree. This is your shoe."

"Well, would you be a sweetie and hand it to me?"

I had the perfect answer. "Why don't you just take it?"

I got a few laughs out of the gang. The grunts howled their approval. I had just moved Silk into a very awkward position. She was going to have to retrieve the shoe from where it had landed, in my lap. She slid out from behind me and circled around again, this time to the front. She bent over, to the point that I could see down her bra. She grinned again, picked up the shoe and threw it to the grunts, who scrambled over the prize yet again.

She then raised the stakes by sitting down in my lap. She whispered in my ear, as silkily as her name implied, and asked me if I would take her top off for her. She had said this loud enough that the group could hear it and the grunts cheered me on to do so. So with shaky hands, I wrapped my arms around her body. I felt around for her bra strap, taking in the rich texture of her fur as I did so.

She cooed with delight as she felt my hands on her body. Obviously an act, but nevertheless, a well done one. I removed the strap and away fell the red bra, coming off in my hands as she pulled away. Wishing to showoff my newly acquired military paycheck, I produced a twenty dollar bill from my pocket and slipped it into the elastic band of her garter. She winked, licked her teeth hungrily and said, "Thanks, hon." She returned to the stage to continue to show.

She performed the rest of the show topless, as I was holding the garment in my hand. I heard one of the grunts make me an offer for it. I refused, because I had a plan on how to use it.

When the show ended, there were comments on my actions during the show. They said that I looked like I had rehearsed what I would and say. I shrugged them all off, not wanting to talk about it. I just couldn't help picturing her. That lovely fur, that silky hair. She just amazed me. But I kept it to myself. Like that girl who brought me the drink earlier. I realized that Silk was trying to make money off me and so she did. But that twenty I had slipped her was about to pay me dividends. Maybe it would not pay in cash, but in something much more valuable.

The grunts and the other few officers spent the rest of the night getting drunk at the bar and having conversations with pretty girls. Some emptied their wallets on private shows. I sat at the bar by myself, I prefer to drink alone. I had the chance to smoke a cigar, a Cuban one. Yes, the military was treating me fine. And as the night wore on, I played with the idea of Silk dancing just for me. I was single and I really was looking for someone to spend time with.

The cigar and the whiskey gave me some time to think. I am often encouraged by others to find a mate, so that my species won't die out. I don't think I will. Besides, we humans are just a cancer on this planet. Sure, for millions of years we were the head-honchos of this dirty little rock. But then God decided he was sick of our endless failures and decided to give the anthromorhps a chance. So I am now a living fossil, a testament to the empires gone by. I'm not sure if I should view that as an honor or a curse.

But all this philosophy crap started ruining my cig, so I just kind of spaced out and waited for the grunts to be finished with their drinks so that we could go get some sleep. Toward closing time, I was finishing up my last drink for the night, and was ready to find a cheap hotel with the grunts. But before I finished the whiskey, I heard the tapping of high heels on the floor. Someone was tapping their foot impatiently behind me. I didn't have to look, I knew who it was.

I played it cool and didn't turn around. Let her make the first move. Seeing as I wasn't going to, she did. She sat right down on the seat next to me, even though the entire rest of bar was empty. "Hello, Mister. Don't suppose that I could get my brassiere back, do you?"

She was still using her stripper voice. I didn't want her to. I wanted her to talk to me as a friend, not someone who would do things to herself for my money. I pulled the red lingerie from my pocket. But I wasn't willing to let it go just yet. It was a bargaining chip and I intended to milk it.

"On one condition, Miss Silk."

She grinned. She knew I had something up my sleeve.

"What do you have in mind, Mr. Military Man?"

"Tell me your real name."

I could tell I'd caught her by surprise. She frowned, kind of sad that I wanted her to get out of character. But she knew that it wasn't worth spending the money to buy a new bra, so she told me.

"Well, Mr. Military Man, if you must know, its Rachel."

Rachel, a good name for such a beautiful woman.

"Rachel, I have a question for you."

The vixen became a little impatient when I mentioned this.

"You said you had one condition."

"A question and a condition are two different things, my dear," I reminded her.

This pissed her off a little. I didn't blame her. She'd had a long night, moving her hips for an endless parade of men who wanted a piece of her so badly that they'd empty their wallets the second she gave a little wag of her tail. Pleasing people, especially men, is a tiring business, I suppose.

"Okay, shoot." I could tell she was getting annoyed, so I decided to just be out with it.

"Would you like to go out sometime?"

This too, brought shock to her face. I could tell that even though she worked in a place where men went absolutely batty for her, she was starved for affection. Not sexual attention, but just plain old-fashioned love. I had definitely struck a chord.

"Really? I would've never I guessed that I was your type." She looked hesitant. I could tell that she wanted to take me up on my offer, but was a little afraid to. And by "type" I realized that she was pointing out that I was a human and she a fox. It was true; sometimes cross-species relationships were looked down upon. But that didn't stop people from doing it. Hell, even I liked morph girls more than girls in my own section of the animal kingdom. Human girls, never mind nice human girls, were few and far between, so I didn't make sense to get involved with one or wait around expecting one to magically show up on my doorstep and try to settle down with me.

That's not to say I was settling for second best. A vixen could turn me on just as easily as a human girl could. From my standpoint, love shouldn't have any boundaries. I think that people focus too much on symmetry in a relationship that they begin to loose sight of what is really important. But I could tell that to get with Rachel, I would have to smooth talk her into taking the plunge with me.

"Sure you're my type. So what do you say, up to having a good time with Mr. Military?"

She smiled, "What did you have in mind?"

"How about spending a day on the town? We'll have lunch, go see a flick at the theater, have a drink. Hell, we'll play it by ear."

"Play it by ear?" My remark had confused her. So I tried to explain that it meant not getting worried about stuff that hasn't happened yet "It means make decisions when the time comes and not a second before. You know, cross that bridge when we get there."

"Well, how about walking me back to my place for starters?"

It was my turn to be shocked. She wanted me to walk her home. I guess it was more or less a test, to see if I was the gentleman I said I was. But I couldn't help but feel that she was boxing herself into a corner. You can't just ask anyone to walk you home these days, especially after midnight. I guess she wanted to see if she could trust me. Needless to say, I was ready to take that test and prove I could pass with flying colors.

"Sure, Rachel, I could give you a walk home."

"Great," she said, taking her bra back. She put it on right in front of me. I guess it didn't make sense for her to get dressed in private anyway, I had seen her topless earlier. I helped her put on her coat on her coat, delighted that she was warming up to me. I put out my cigar in the ash tray and set my glass down on the table. I looked around for the gang, but they'd already left. Looks like I was going to have to find my own way to the hotel. But I wasn't going to let it bother me, because I had the opportunity to walk a lovely young lady home, which doesn't present itself too often.

I held the door open for her on the way out. The bouncer, a menacing looking wolf who stood at seven feet tall, gave me a look that shook me in my boots. Rachel just laughed and told him that I was with her and that seemed to calm him down. "Have a good evening, Ms. Silk," he said, as if he hadn't just threatened to disembowel me.

On the walk, I had a chance to talk with Rachel about a lot of things. Where we were from, what we were doing with our lives. Our interests and our dislikes were exchanged, too. After about a mile, she invited me to put her arm around her. At first I thought she just wanted to be close to me but I soon learned of the real reason why she wanted me to do it. She wanted me to notice something that she was carrying on her person.

There was a pistol tucked into her pants, I could feel it through her coat. I had forgotten my revolver back in my locker at the base, so it was obvious that I wouldn't last long in a scuffle with anyone. She gave me a sideways look, noticing that I had interpreted the message correctly: Don't try anything funny, or I'll put a cap in your ass.

Now I understood why she had been so quick to trust me, she had backup. I kept cool, pretending not to care. I didn't really. A woman had every right to defend herself and I had no intention of putting her into a situation where she would have to use the gun anyway. I was just afraid she had taken me for someone who really did want to hurt her. I wanted just the opposite.

As we approached her home, she said told me that she hoped I didn't think any less of her because she was an erotic dancer. I told her I didn't mind in the least but asked her why she didn't shoot for something loftier. I could tell she had the brains to get a job in some office somewhere or as a teacher.

The answer almost broke my heart. Apparently, her mom had died a few years ago and after that her family couldn't really get by on her dad's paycheck. He had put Rachel through college on what little cash he had and even had to take some serious loans. Who he was loaning money from, she didn't tell me. And I wouldn't know why until a few months later.

She said that she was working as a stripper so that she could get her dad out of debt. He didn't know that she was working at the strip club, so she begged me not to tell him if we happened to run into him when I dropped her off. I agreed and kept the vixen's secret safe. I still had my arm around her, so I gave her a reaffirming one-armed hug, to let her know that I could be trusted.

I'm pretty sure this helped, because she seemed grateful for the escort back to her house. She was living at her Dad's place because he was getting on in years and needed help just changing the channel on the television. I asked her if I could help her out with her money problem. I was fed, clothed and housed by the military, so my paycheck was literally collecting dust in the bank.

Rachel smiled when I suggested it, but she refused. Then she said that she didn't take handouts and neither did her old man. She asked me if I had enjoyed the show and I nodded furiously to show my enthusiastic approval. Sure it was small talk, but we were trying to make the moment last, trying to delay our departure as long as possible. As we stood there on the porch of the small house, everything felt perfect.

I was afraid that this was the part where she thanked me for the walk home and went inside, never to be seen by me again. I asked her if she was still up to that date and she agreed, to my surprise. She told me that she'd meet me here tomorrow before noon. I had clinched it.

She gave me a hug and then started to go inside. Trying not to be creepy, I started walking away as she started in. I could tell by the absence of the sound of the door closing that she hadn't gone in yet, but she was watching me from the porch. I hadn't gone fifty feet when I heard Rachel call my name.

"Hey! Keith! You got a place to stay tonight?"

To be honest, I had completely forgotten that my fellows had taken of in the only halftrack that we had brought with us. I realized that I was actually pretty lost. The grunts had mentioned finding a cheap hotel, but there were hotels all over this district and it was getting pretty chilly out, even with my dress coat.

I turned around to face Rachel with a sheepish smile on my face. It was time to play the pity game. She stood there, expecting an answer I was afraid to give. She had just invited me into her home and I was just amazed at how generous she was being, despite the fact her family was in a severe state of financial trouble.

I eventually summed up the courage to say, "Well, my comrades said that they'd be staying at a hotel this evening, so I if I find them I should be fine." I refused deliberately, just to test to see what her answer was.

Rachel shook her head, her hair making such graceful movements as she disagreed with me. "Better not. It's late and the hotel doors close at midnight. You'd never find the right one either, there a dozens of boarding houses in this district. Come on in, you can stay with us for the night."

She had done exactly what I had expected. I was never so happy to be corrected. She led me inside of what was a pretty adequate house. Not a mansion, but not a slum, either. An old man, presumably her dad, was snoring loudly on the couch in front of a TV that was still broadcasting some war movie. Despite the sound of gunshots and mortar shells, he was mast asleep.

We didn't need to stay quiet, because it was obvious that her dad was a heavy sleeper, but she touched my shoulder as if to say, "Let's not risk it." Apparently, I wasn't really supposed to be in this house, which made me feel a little intrusive. After a few minutes, I ignored that thought and Rachel led me upstairs to show me my room.

Now, I assumed that I was going to be sleeping in a spare room they had, like walk-in closet or something, but Rachel yet again proved me wrong. She opened a door and then gestured for me to look inside. I did, expecting to see a just a storage room, but was struck dumbfounded when I realized what room it actually was.

This was Rachel's room. I could tell by the bedding and the carpet that a female lived in this room. I was about to turn around and face her to argue that I wasn't going to take her room and make her sleep somewhere else, but she used her foot to push me inside. Once well passed the threshold, she closed the door and braced it with her body as if to say, "There's no escape now!" For a second, I thought that she was going to hurt me. After all, she had a gun and I didn't.

As if the confirm my fears, she pulled the pistol out from her shorts and brought it up to aiming position. My heart broke. I swear it did. I thought she'd shot me through the heart, but the lack of blood (or death) indicated that this was not the case. Despite being in the military, no one has ever pointed a gun at me before. I was just working on a slave plantation, so I was far from battle-hardened.

She grinned evilly and then shouted, "BANG!"

I flinched. I know, I looked a total dork, but I really thought she was going to kill me. She saw the terrified look on my face and then started laughing. Her laughter was stopped short when she noticed that I didn't laugh with her. I was too shocked by the fact I was just held at gunpoint. She tossed the gun onto a chair and then strode over to me. She held me in her arms, realizing that her little joke had scared the piss out of me.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said apologetically, planting kisses on my face, "I didn't mean to scare you. I left the safety on, if it makes you feel any better."

"It's okay; just don't ever pull that one on me again. Remind me never to make you angry."

To that, she just laughed again and continued to hold me. I returned the affection by holding her back. We kissed for a little while. You could tell that we were both just dying to get into a private place where we could show our affections to each other. She closed her eyes and put her head on my chest.

I know that this sounds corny and that every other love story you hear has a moment like this, but it happened. I kid you not, this is what really happened. I told her how much I loved her. Just like that, I told her that I loved her. I don't know why I did it, or if it was really the smart thing to do, but I said it. And the thing is, I was proud of it. In my mind, there's nothing that I would've rather said at that point in time.

When she heard me say it, she looked up at me with a look of shock on her face. I could tell that I must've freaked her out. It was too sudden and I was sure that she was about to kick me out of her house, but then she started crying. I felt like kicking myself. I had just reduced this poor girl to tears. I hung my head and started for the door, ready to leave because I could tell that I was making her uncomfortable.

But as I reached for the knob Rachel put her arms around me again to prevent me from leaving. The strength of her embrace told me that she really didn't want me to leave. She wiped her tears away and then said something that I never would've expected to come out of her mouth that night.

"I love you, too."

I almost started crying too when she said that. "Really? Then why are you crying?" I asked, not sure if I could believe what I was hearing.

She blinked away the last of her tears and said, "They're tears of joy. No one has ever been this kind to me before. I'm so happy that I met you. Now come on, let's stop all this sobbing and start being happy for each other.

I picked her up and kissed her face. I was overjoyed to hear her say that. I knew then that I never wanted to leave her side. She giggled as I kissed her, so delighted to have a man finally showing her some affection. She instructed me to bring her over to the bed, which I did so. She patted the spot beside her to indicate that she wanted me to be next to her.

Now, I know what you're thinking. First of all, you've got a dirty mind if that's the first conclusion your mind came to. Second of all, you'd be right. We did make love that night although it was different from a one-night stand. We felt a connection so strong that we slid headfirst into third base. I won't go into details (poor you) but I will say this: Vixens do it better.

When I woke up the next morning there was ruffling in my ear. Rachel stuck her muzzle into my hair and I could hear her relaxed breathing. Her arms were wrapped around me and we were both nude underneath the covers of her warm bed. It was absolute heaven. I couldn't believe it, until Rachel opened her eyes and started snuggling with me. She asked me if the military gets lonely and when I told her that it did, she giggled and said, "Judging by last night, it must."

I laughed. It was actually really reassuring to know, that I could satisfy such a beautiful woman. It really boosted my confidence (as well as another body part). It was late morning when we decided to finally get out of bed and her father had already left for work. Good thing, too. I wouldn't want to see the look on his face if I came downstairs zipping up my jeans.

Nevertheless, we didn't rush. I put on my military clothes again and she dressed nice (I was really hoping she'd wear her dancer outfit, though). She put on this cowboy and boots that I thought made her look sexy. She was perfect in everyway. She proved this statement true when she cooked me breakfast, which I really wasn't expecting.

I didn't expect her to cook, but she insisted, so I let her. She gave me an omelet so good that I wanted to propose right there in the kitchen. When we finished out breakfast, I was so impressed that I told her to watch out, because I might get used to such cooking. She answered me with a kiss and then told me that she'd take care of the dishes later.

Our day was probably the best Sunday I've ever spent with a woman before. We did everything. We watched a funny movie at the cinema, ate lunch at a fancy restaurant, took a walk through the park and even just did a little shopping. I normally hate shopping, but she dragged me into a lingerie store and tried on several pieces of sexy underwear for me. "Just don't go keeping any of my underwear from now on, okay?" she joked, bringing up the fact that we had met over a bra.

We had a nice dinner after we went shopping. When she argued that I was spoiling her, I told her that she had been spoiling me last night. She laughed. I liked that, she laughed a lot. It was good to be friends with a woman who had such a great sense of humor. Every second, I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper into love with her.

I returned her home before I realized that I should catch a bus back to XX-31. I was required to be at the base by midnight, because that was officially when the weekend was over and the work week began again. She thanked me for such a great time and invited me back to the house next week for lunch. I walked her up to the steps but before I got my kiss goodbye the door opened.

A weary, old fox emerged. His forehead was wrinkled and white hairs stuck up from his head. His face sagged and his posture was bent over with the strain of a long and stressful existence. He saw us standing there on the porch. More importantly, he saw me, standing there in my military uniform. I think that he must've thought that I was arresting his daughter or something because he started swinging his cane at me.

He yelled, "Damn it! How many times do I have to tell you? It isn't time yet, so go away! Leave my daughter alone!"

I hadn't the slightest clue to what he was talking about. Rachel talked back at her father and tried to explain that I was her friend and that I was just walking her home. He seemed to calm down after she told him this but he still looked at me with untrusting eyes. He did the gentleman thing and invited me in for a drink, but I had to decline, the last bus to XX-31 was leaving in a few minutes.

Rachel apologized for her father's behavior, saying that the military made him nervous. I told her that it was fine and not to worry about it. I gave her a kiss goodbye and told her I'd see her next weekend. She hurried her father into the house, as if she were some mother busy with her pups.

I took the bus back to base and got some sleep before returning to work the next day. The grunts and other officers were happy to see that I was alright. They said that they didn't know I was gone until their hangovers cleared up. Freaking addicts. Work continued with the same boring pace it always took, until Friday. Friday had to be the longest day of my life. I was looking forward to getting to Maxim City and seeing Rachel, but the hours seemed to just slowly drift by, like a lazy river in the middle of winter.

I was about to get off for the day when I received a page from the Head of Base's officer. "1st Lieutenant Keith Israel! Now hear this! You're presence is requested by the Major in his office. Please report there immediately. That is all."

Uh oh. Major Virgil wanted to see me.