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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 40.

"...slut!"

Pamila is driving down the highway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other by her left ear. She has her smart phone planted on her left cheek as she travels the road at a speed - limit - breaking pace. She has just received a call from her best friend and is more concerned with the call than her aim. She misses her exit and has to quickly compensate, but maintains her current speed the entire time . The tone in her voice is relaxed throughout, the way it always is whenever she talks to her friend.

"Hold on, Camille. I'm gonna switch to the hands - free system." The fox puts away her phone and pushes a couple of buttons on the steering wheel. In the matter of seconds, she is calling her friend through her car. She ekes a smile when she hears the cat's greeting, then asks, "How's it hangin'?"

Camille sounds positively ecstatic. " I'm about to head out. Got me some more stuff to buy for the party next week. After that, I figure I'd go dancing. I'm just waiting for someone to go with."

"Oh really? Pray tell, with who?"

"You, stupid."

Pamila bristles in response. She smirks and shakes her head as she exits the highway and stops at a red light. "Thanks for the offer," she says. Her face then returns to its stoic form. "However,I'm gonna have to decline."

"Aww...how come?"

"Because I have to clean. I have to perform my janitorial duties."

"Aww, come on! Skip them. You cleaned yesterday, didn't you?"

"Well, this time I don't have a choice. I have to pick up my boss."

"Your...boss?" The sound of Camille scratching her head can be heard.

"My 17-year-old boss." Pamila shakes her head as the light turns green. She angrily steps on the gas. "Tobias went and got himself grounded. He can't go out unless it's to clean the office, but he's not allowed to drive either, so...I have to do it."

"Aww, that's unfair!"

"But what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Fuck the kid, ditch the work, and join me."

The fox chuckles. "You know, that's totally unlike you, Camille."

"What is?"

"You keep saying, 'Just three more weeks, Pamila. Just two more weeks, Pamila.' You keep saying that and telling me to have patience and that things just get better from here. It's not like you to try and dissuade me from work."

"I'm just excited. I'm about to finalize the guest list to the best party 2014 has ever seen, and I'm hosting it."

"Yeah, yeah. Your first, as you keep telling me."

Camille scoffs loudly. "Am I boring you?"

"I can't share the joy, buddy. As you can tell, I'm about to ruin my Friday night...so I can't go out with you or anything. Sorry you called for nothing."

"I got to try and cheer up my best friend. That's something, right?"

Pamila laughs. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Anyway, I'm just outside the kid's house. I'll talk to you later."

"Just keep telling yourself one more week. Just one more week, okay? Then next Friday, you and I will have some real fun."

"Good night, Camille." Pamila puts her car in park in front of the two - story house at the end of a cul-de-sac. It looks like the typical upper/middle-class residence, surrounded by duplicate houses and in a neighborhood with excellent property values. There is a Neighborhood Watch signpost just a couple of inches ahead of her car. Behind the car is a makeshift, cardboard sign announcing a garage sale on Saturday. The community is definitely close-knit, something that Pamila is not used to. She takes her time getting out of the car and walking to her boss' front door.

After five minutes of stalling, she finds and rings the doorbell. The button that rings the bell is waist high, partially jammed, and covered in cobwebs. She wipes her left hand on her blouse and hears footsteps from inside. "Just perfect," she says. It seems her night is only going to get worse from here. Unbeknownst to her,a red daddy-long-legs falls from her hand on to her left knee and crawls down to her ankles. If she sees that, she would panic a little, but she is only focused on leaving this area as soon as possible. She is impatiently tapping her left foot on the ground as the door opens.

The woman at the door is a few inches shorter than the fox, has a bit more girth, has curlers in her hair, and is Japanese. They take each other by surprise and spend a few seconds just looking at one another. Before Pamila can speak, the woman says, "Hold on a minute," in a heavy accent. She leaves Pamila sight and yells, "Tobias! Time to go!"

The fox folds her arms was more impatience and sneaks herself through the doorway. While she does, Tobias yells something back to the woman; the boy is upstairs and by the quick pace of his footsteps, he sounds like he is running late. The woman returns to the fox's sight and says, "When he says he's almost ready, it usually means five more minutes. Please, come on in."

"Um...thanks?" The fox is unsure and slowly makes her way inside. "Nice place you got here."

The host reaches around Pamila and closes the front door. "My name is Keiko Fugutsugi-Haggard. Nice to meet you. Would you like to sit down?"

"Yeah...no thanks." She holds up her left hand, practically trying to wave her away.

"I'm not being too formal, am I?"

Pamila shrugs. "I don't think so."

"I usually don't say all three names to people I don't know. But I want you to know that I am in your debt."

"You are?"

"Yes I am. I want to thank you for what you are doing for my son. I know he tries to deny it, but he is the biggest troublemaker I know. I want to thank you for hiring him. When his uncle suggested he clean your office to stay out of trouble, I do not think he would accept. I think we would have to use...extreme measures."

Pamila nods. "Yeah. Boarding school. He's told me."

"He's had to be grounded, but for the last two or three months, he has been a good boy." She stretches her arms and grabs the fox's hands. "It is all thanks to you."

"Yeah, well...thanks for the kind words, but I'm not his boss."

"Oh? I thought you were the business owner. The way he talks about you, it sounded like - - "

"I'm not Tobias' boss. We just work together."

"Really? He helps you clean?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Before Mrs. Haggard can press on, Tobias comes running down the staircase. He is dressed in black clothes, somewhat imitating Pamila. He is not completely covered in black though; his sneakers are orange. He is frantically out of breath. "I'll be right back! I can't find the keys!" He disappears through the kitchen doorway.

His mother shakes his head and murmurs something In her native language before turning back to the fox. "I'm sorry about that."

"Energetic, isn't he?"

"He is really trying very hard to impress you. He talks about you all the time, you know?"

"He does?"

"I don't quite understand it. He is not someone who speaks so highly of nonhumans. He usually avoids them. But he tells me he works with you and others like you, and he does the jobs really fast. It's like he's gained a newfound respect for other people. I like that. I want to thank you again for that."

Pamila nods with understanding; the fact that most everyone in that building is a hitman has much to do with the boy's change in behavior. "Glad to help."

Tobias returns, still out of breath. Now his hair is less stable than before. "I can't find the keys to Rapid Recovery."

Mrs. Haggard nods. "Where did you leave them last?"

While the boy stutters feebly, the fox stands rigidly and angrily. "Did you check inside your car?"

"My car?" Before he can get words of rebuke from his mother, he runs between the woman and out of the house.

He unintentionally pushes Pamila to get to the door. The fox inspects her blouse and reshapes it until it is straight. Then she looks at the boy's mother. "All right ma'am. Level with me a bit. Your son's a robot, isn't he?"

"What?"

"I won't tell anyone."

Just as quickly as he left, Tobias returns, jangling a key ring and heaving a sigh of relief. "Found 'em."

The fox applauds sarcastically. "Wonderful. Let's go."

Mrs. Haggard folds her arms and tries not to show too much anger. "Good. Come back soon, okay? We still need to discuss your financial aid. Also, dinner is almost ready." She leaves through the kitchen doorway. "Oh, ask your friend if she wants a little something to eat before she goes."

Tobias shrugs and turns to his partner. "You want something to - -"

"No. Let's just go before your mom thanks me again." Pamila leads the way, closing the door behind them, and enters her red vehicle. The boy sits next to her, still breathing hard but starting to relax now that he gets to sit down. She looks at him angrily for a few seconds before turning on the ignition.

"Oh, look. You got a message." He points to the dashboard display.

Pamila shakes her head. "Oh, that Camille." She presses a couple of buttons on the dashboard as she drives away from the cul-de-sac.

Just as they to start to relax, the message comes in. Camille is more animated than usual. "Hey there, Pam. It's me again. Just got off the phone with St. Croix and I just couldn't refuse him. Sorry about that, but as I said earlier, I already kind of invited him. It'll still be a fun party, 'cuz he says he'll bring your playing cards from the storeroom. That's about it, I guess. I'm going dancing and straight home from there. Wish you were here. Then again, I always do. I'm just sorry that dumbass kid has to keep making it a solo. Call you in an hour."

The message ends abruptly, cutting off the feline right at the end of the short speech. After that, Pamila looks straight ahead and concentrates on driving. Tobias looks clearly insulted, but lowers his head to avoid showing emotion to his already angry partner. He looks around the car, confused and weary. He has recently been grounded, so his feelings towards that surely adds on to his discomfort. He looks around, but does not want to look directly at the fox, so he keeps his forehead on the closed window next to him.

The fox turns the air-conditioning on and looks at the boy as she drives. She tries not to get too concerned that he was summarily dismissed as he was, and drives in silence for five minutes. However, halfway through the trip, her anger softens and she observes Tobias, who is still looking out the window.

"I'm sorry she said that," she says. The statement is followed by a heavy sigh, as if she is feeling remorse for Camille statement.

"It's all right," he says. "I'm used to it...from all you guys."

Pamila turns the radio on. " You shouldn't have to be." She keeps the volume on the music low and turns to the boy again. "So, what you get grounded for?"

Now angry, Tobias turns to her and shakes his head. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Wow! All right! Fine! Don't get steamed." She shrugs and scoffs. "Just trying to make conversation."

"Why would you ever want to converse with me? You hate me, remember? Now you have more reason to. I'm the guy who ruins your weekends."

"I'm not cleaning because of you. I'm cleaning because of them, your uncle included. I don't tell Camille everything about this cleaning stuff...because she doesn't need to know. She thinks that you're the same as the executives; she thinks you're punishing me for the way I killed some dumb mark. She doesn't know that you're being punished too."

"You could tell her to lay off."

"It doesn't matter, okay? What she thinks is irrelevant. We're going to work and we're going to clean the hell out of that place, and I'm going to take you back home. If I feel like dancing afterwards, then that's fine." Her voice is rising. She waits a few seconds to calm herself. "So, you're half Japanese huh?"

"My dad and Uncle Crevecoeur have a thing for Japanese woman. Dad took Japanese lessons to impress this girl he knew. They fell in love years later. I'm the firstborn of three."

"And Crevecoeur?"

"His wife was half Japanese. Before she died, they had two kids."

Pamila chuckles. "She's dead, huh? No wonder he's so bitter all the time." She turns up the volume to the radio.

Tobias turns to the fox. "Can I ask you something? You don't hate me like the other hitmen do, do you? I mean, you hate me, don't you? Just not as strongly."

The fox tops snickering and turns angry again. "How I feel about you, human, is also irrelevant. We're here."

She said "human" as a pejorative and Tobias knew it. It stings him and he returns to face the window. They do not stay silent for long; the red car is parked in an almost empty lot. There are two cars parked near the entrance. Pamila recognizes one of them to be Ted's vehicle. "We'd better be on our best behavior," she says. "It also means the door's open, so I guess we needn't have bothered with the keys, huh?"

"I guess not." Tobias gets out of the car and leads the way up the short staircase to the front door.

"I told myself I would stop coming here in the evenings to clean. But I had to pick you up for tonight."

"How come?"

Pamila impatiently passes the boy and looks around the lobby. She quickly starts arranging the rows of chairs. "Forget about it. What's done is done. I still want revenge on those assholes, but something like that needs to be timed correctly. You just gonna stand there or you gonna help me?"

"Actually, you're done. The chairs didn't need much mending. Let's just start at the chief's office like always."

"Sure thing, boss." She reluctantly and quietly follows. "Just don't make too much noise. I have a feeling someone still getting paid. I don't want them to know I'm here."

They go through the dark hallway to the very end. The Vivian Cross door is still unlocked. Tobias pushes it open and they observe a room in some disarray. Stacks of paper are strewn all over the desk. There are a couple of leaves of paper on the bare floor. A couple of cabinets have opened drawers. The trash receptacle is filled to the brim. The boy quickly walks over to the desk to pick up a red mug that is dangling precariously on the edge. "I'll be right back," he says.

While he runs to the cafeteria, Pamila puts her hands on her hips and looks around. She walks slowly to avoid toppling or stepping on anything. She gets to the other side of the desk and gently pulls up the chair. There are a couple of more papers on it and the drawer is open. She nonchalantly places the papers on the desk with the rest of the mess and sits on the chair. When she swivels, she sees the liquor cabinet. Gasping loudly, she leaves the chair and bounds over to it.

The cabinet is also in a bit of disarray. The wooden part is dusty, the glass is smeared, and there are a couple of more papers on it. She tosses those papers on the desk and wipes the smears with her hands. Her fingers carefully caress away the smudges and fingerprints. Her face looks like that of a caring mother drying her child. While cleaning the cabinet, she notices a couple of drinks are missing. Two bottles of gin has been taken away. Everything else is where they have always been. The big, temping bottle of scotch is still there, in the middle of the second drawer. Pamila gives a little smile upon seeing it.

Tobias returns, startling the fox. "Boy," he says. "What a mess, huh?"

Pamila nods. "Well I see that the chief is back from her Republican ass - kissing tour."

"Hey, don't say something like that in front of her. She and the governor are friends and she's very sensitive about those tours."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me start off at the psych room, okay? I'll leave this mess to you."

"The supplies are in the storeroom."

Pamila brushes off the boy's final words; she needs no reminding of where the supplies are. Now that she is a member of the custodial team, everything is almost second nature to her. She goes back to the lobby and enters the storeroom to the right of the front desk. The bottle of glass cleaner and a pile of hand towels are all she gathers from the room. Once her hands are full, she makes her way back to the hall. The 'psych' room is the third door on the left. Her hand is on the knob and she is about open it. That is when her ears perk up.

She cracks the door open a little and narrows her eyes. There is someone in the room. Even though the door still blocks her view, she can clearly hear some creaking and at least one light voice. Confused, she pushes the door out of the way. What she sees really narrows her eyes.

Dunn, the swift fox, and Pica, the bobcat, are to the right side of the desk, just a couple of feet from the door. Pica is seated on Miranda's chair, which has been moved from its place to the front. He is looking out of the window, getting a perfect view of the setting sun. His partner is behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Their backs are to the fox, who looks at her nemeses angrily.

Pica is thoroughly enjoying the massage, more because it comes from his lover than because it feels so good. He leans his head back and starts to purr. Feeling turned on, Dunn leans forward to his the bobcat's forehead. He eventually leans even more to kiss his nose. Soon, their mouths touch.

Pamila hears Pica say "I love you" and rolls her eyes in disgust. It looks like cleaning that office will have to come later, but she stays to watch them for a bit. They do not notice her presence even though their ears are as sharp as hers. If they would just listen carefully, they could hear the fox seething. However, their smothering love for each other is compromising their senses. Pamila is free to watch and maybe even plan.

Five minutes later, she is still watching the lovers, caught between interrupting them and leaving them at peace. Her hatred is as palpable as it has ever been. Now here they are, unaware and looking quite vulnerable. She clearly has them right where she wants them, but she does not act. In fact, she backs away from the door and starts to softly close it. Suddenly, she changes her mind, opens it wide, and slams it shut with all her strength. Behind the door, something falls, probably one of the startled pair. Pamila laughs quietly and walks back to the chief's office.

Tobias is surprised to see her return so quickly. "You finished?"

She closes the door behind her. "Didn't even get started. The room is occupied."

"Now way. That's not supposed to happen."

"Well one time, I was trying to clean and I saw Mieri sleeping in there. I guess Miranda's room has become a hangout spot."

"Who's in there now?"

"A bitch and his bitch. Just forget it. Let me help you clean up here."

"I'm packing the papers. Just grab the duster. It was Pica and Dunn, wasn't it?" He is not looking at her, but is trying to determine which papers go in which files in the cabinet. He is working so hard and so quickly that sweat forms on his forehead and bare arms. Once he stuffs the last of the stacks of paper from the desk to the cabinet, he closes it and leans against it. Breathing heavily, he doubles over and puts his hands on his knees. Filing paper is not usually a sweat-breaking type of job, but Tobias cleared everything off the desk very quickly.

As he tries to catch his breath, he feels the fox next to him. He looks up and sees that she is offering him one of the hand towels. "Here," she says. She says nothing rotten to him, but rather stands there with as close to a smile as she can muster. "Go on. Take it. Wipe your face."

Surprised, Tobias grabs the towel and obeys. "Hey, thanks."

"Brace yourself."

"Huh?"

"I feel them coming here. Get ready." With that, Pamila walks over to the liquor cabinet and starts to wipe the glass.

Tobias scoffs. "I had a feeling you'd start with that. You clean that drink cabinet more than anything else in here."

"It's pretty, all right? It's a good cabinet. Hate to admit it, but the chief's got good taste. Wish I had one of these. Then I'd have some extra space at home. Brace yourself."

"You said that already."

"I'm just saying...I can feel them coming."

"Who?"

"Listen, when they get here, don't say anything, okay? Let me handle it. Just keep working."

"What are you talking about?"

The door suddenly bursts open. Tobias is startled by it, but Pamila was anticipating it. She keeps wiping the cabinet, then moves on to the now uncluttered desk. The boy looks at the intruder and drops the towel he was just handed.

Pica is now in the room with them. He entered so fiercely that his glasses are off balance on his face. He fixes them and looks around. The first person he sees is Tobias, who has backed himself against the cabinet he has just cleaned.

The bobcat's fur is erect in anger. He points at the boy. "Did you just--"

"Hey there, four eyes!" Pamila yells. "What's wrong? Someone wake you up?"

He is surprised to see her, but immediately turns back to Tobias and walks to him in a threatening manner. Nothing good can possibly come from what is about to happen. Before he gets too close though, a white towel flies into his face. It has enough force to knock his glasses off.

"Lay off him," she says. "If you want to kill somebody, give me a try."

The bobcat slowly removes the towel from his head and momentarily forgets the boy is there. It is exactly what Pamila wants. He starts towards her now, a little faster and a lot angrier.

"Yeah, that's it. Let me see those pearly whites." She stands up as straight as an arrow and balls her hands.

Her posture causes Pica to stop in his tracks. He just stares at her, opening his mouth to speak. Something comes out, but nothing coherent. His hands jam into his pockets and his mouth emits a low growl.

"I was the one who closed the door on you, not him. Seriously, you two don't wait to get home before you do that shit?"

"You!"

"Me what?"

Pica allows himself to take a couple of deep breaths. The idea that the fox is calmer than he is could mean that she has the advantage. Sure enough, he advances no further and instead points sternly. He watches her resume wiping the desk, then huffs, "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

She stops to look at him. "I'm sorry. Couldn't hear too good. Did you say your butt hurts? I'm afraid I can't help you with that...though I have a pretty good idea where it came from."

Tobias is behind the bobcat, trying to get the fox to shut up by vigorously shaking his head. He is scared to be in the room right now. Pica meanwhile is ruffled at the fox's verbal jab. "If you have a problem with us, that's fine. You can get at either of us any time you want. But don't interrupt us like that ever again!"

"If you and your brother want to bump uglies, do it somewhere else. Now, if you don't mind, we're busy. Aren't we, Tobias?"

The boy nods quickly and picks up the towel he dropped. He turns to the cabinet and wipes furiously, even though it is already completely clean.

Pica shakes his head and heads for the door. "Later, bitch."

"Don't forget your glasses." She watches him flip the bird before picking up his eyewear and closing the door, then shakes her head. She hears the human sigh with relief and turns to him. "You okay?"

"Wow. You got away with it."

"I did what?"

"They were gonna ambush you. That's how they work. One gets the victim to fight him, then the other ambushes the victim. That's how they overcome their marks whenever they work together. It's also how they beat up people who would cross them. One pretends to be weak while the other--"

"How do you know all this?!" Pamila is stunned and perhaps a bit impressed. She stands at the desk with her hands on her hips, looking at the boy with wide eyes.

Tobias just shrugs. "I eavesdrop. Literally nothing's safe from me."

The fox nods. "You know what? You might have a future in surveillance or...government shenanigans, or whatever the hell they call it these days."

"Does that mean that you think I did something good?" he asks, smiling broadly.

"Don't get cocky. I'm just saying that...working with you might pay dividends for me. It could even be advantageous. That's all I'm saying." She quickly shakes her head and tries to act mad even though she is not. "Just forget it. I'm going back to the psych room. Those jackasses should be gone."

She heads out of Vivian's office and back down the hallway, scoffing at what happened earlier. Not only did she defend herself from Pica's latest attempted attack, but she unwittingly grew closer to the 17-year-old. She shakes it off as she heads to the 'psych' room. On her way, she passes the conference room; its door is partially open. There seems to be nobody inside right now. She enters and starts to wipe the racetrack table with the towel and glass cleaner. Nobody is there to see her--exactly what she told the boy she wanted. The smell starts to bother her and she sneezes loudly. "I'll be smelling like this all night."

With half the table cleaned, she slumps into one of the velvet seats and pushes the cleaning supplies away from her in exasperation. "I hate myself." She covers her face with her hands and sighs heavily. "What next?"

Across the other end of the table, something drops on the floor. Pamila uncovers her face in time to see that the bottle of cleaner has pushed a stack of marks to the edge. She mumbles something under her breath and quickly moves to pick them up. She inspects each one before returning them to the table. The marks are all human, most are based out of town, and the highest one is worth eight thousand dollars. She nods at all of them and runs through them a second time, looking for one that suits her.

A smile comes across the fox's face as she reads the information. "I know that place," she says to herself. The smile grows and her breathing turns to short panting. She nods heartily and pulls her phone from her pants pocket. The excitement grows with every push of the buttons. Soon, she has the phone to her right ear.

"Hello, Camille?" She sits on the table, dangling her legs on the edge. "Hey there, girly girl! How are you doing? Where are you?"

The voice on the other side is equally exuberant. It makes Pamila laugh.

"Listen, you got your smartphone? Turn your speaker on. I got something I wanna show you." She takes the phone away from her ear and uses it to take a picture of the mark she was smiling at before. As soon as her phone makes the shutter sound effect, she puts it back to her mouth. "What do you think?"

Almost a minute passes with the fox grinning with anticipation. The other line is somberly quiet.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Umm...that's a mark."

"I know, right?"

"What are you doing with it?"

"I'm showing it to you. I'm interested in it and--"

"No. No!"

"I wanna take it."

"You can't. You're grounded...so to speak."

"Well, that's too bad. Besides, I just found it here in the conference room. That means nobody chose it in this morning's meeting. That means it's fair game."

"Not for you! Come on, Pam! Don't do this. Wait the week."

"Camille, just because I can't hunt yet doesn't mean I can't scout or do other intelligence work. Besides, you're hardly busy these days. If I can't take him, surely you can."

"Pam...I don't know...."

"Come on, listen. Ronald Brice. He's five-foot-five. That means we're taller than he is. He lives in Santa Monica, not far from L.A. In fact, he works here. That's a big bonus since we don't like to travel too far. He's worth eight grand. And the best part?" The fox takes the phone away from her face to quickly review the information on the paper she holds. "He frequents Tiger Tails." Her smile practically covers her entire face.

"Tiger Tails? Are you sure?"

"It says so right here. Your favorite night club. Weren't you headed there to dance?"

"No, I was going somewhere else. But I haven't been to Tiger Tails in weeks. Pam, are you sure you want to do this? It could get dangerous. If the bosses suspect you're going to a hunt, you're toast. And if we go to Tiger Tails acting like we're looking for someone, then we're toast. That's of course assuming the bouncers even let us inside."

"This is gonna be easier than you think. I'll talk to St. Croix later tonight and try to get some information from him. I'll try to get them to share with me anything else he knows about the mark. He'd be reluctant to give it, but he feels for me, so I'm betting he will. Then you and I pick a time...tomorrow would be great...to go to Tiger Tails. You can distract the bouncer with your...self, and I'll try to confirm the information. It won't be a real hunt."

"What if Tom's not there? What if it's the other one?"

"I'll handle the other one. Don't worry about...." Her voice trails off and her ears stand erect. Someone is coming inside. "Sorry. Gotta go. Call me later." She hangs up and hops off the table, then places the Ronald Brice picture in the middle of the pile before resuming her cleaning.

Ted Mullins enters the room, adjusting his tie and buttoning his cashmere coat. The presence of the fox takes him by surprise and he stops just in front of the doorway. She pretends not to notice and wipes the table vigorously. He sees her efforts and dismisses them with a disbelieving headshake.

"Working hard?" he asks. When she does not answer he moves closer, sniffing the air. "What's that smell?" He answers his own question when he sees the glass cleaner. Picking it up, he snorts his disapproval. "You don't clean the table with this."

The fox looks up, feigning ignorance. "You don't?"

"Now the room's gonna smell like this tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday. You won't be here."

Ted sighs heavily. It seems it is never easy just conversing with Pamila. Today, he looks really uncomfortable. "So how's he treating you?"

"Who?"

"Crevecoeur's nephew."

She stops wiping and looks at him. She is probably angry, but this is the wrong time to vent frustrations. She takes a calculated breath. "He's all right, I guess. He's not pushy or demanding. He's not bossy or anything. He lets me go anywhere I want." She chuckles. "Matter of fact, I act more like the boss than he does. That said, we both end up cleaning toilets at the end of the day, so...nobody's winning."

"I'd say you are."

Pamila raises her eyebrows confusedly. "Huh?"

"Vivian wanted you fired. Half the execs wanted you fired. I had no opinion, but to be honest, you were pretty much out the door. It was Simon...Mr. Blank, your former handler who made the difference. He pretty much hid you from the chief, which pissed her off, and wouldn't tell us where you were. He's the reason you're still here."

The fox swallows. "What would you have decided?"

Ted shrugs. "I like you. Despite what you did to Colin, I like you. I like your style...and I will admit that I have ever since you killed that third apprentice mark. Simon told me how you did it. He was impressed. So was I. Your hiring was imminent." He walks around the table to collect the marks at the left end while Pamila stands there dumbfounded. "I guess I should just leave these here. Listen, Pam. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I liked when you bombed The Imbroglio. I've always hated those hipster places. You got the mark and there was very little collateral damage. I would have paid you if I were here at the time."

The fox gasps and eagerly steps forward. "You could pay me now."

"No, that ship has sailed. But listen to me. You are good at this. You are as skilled at this as any of the men. You're definitely the most skilled of the women. Also, I disagree with Hoeness. You're good for this company and I don't want to see you go. So...." He steps closer to her until they can see each other's pupils. "As long as I have a job, you have a job. Just don't screw up too much, do your killing with some restraint, and I promise you nobody will call for your head."

Pamila does not quite know how to react. She scoffs one second then demurely backs away the next. After stuttering for words, she puts her hands in her pants pockets and gently looks away, as if defeated. "Thanks, I guess. But you know, you could just say the word and end this farce." She turns back to him. "Get me back out there! Let me do what I was really hired to do!"

"Whoa...don't get combative. Remember, I'm your boss, but the chief's mine. Whatever she says goes, so you're a janitor for as long as she says you are. So how long do you have left?"

She looks at her feet. "One week."

"Good. So what are you standing here talking to me for? Get to work and see you on Monday." With that, Ted walks out of the conference room, leaving the marks on the table. Even though they are in the same room as the fox, they are still out of reach.

The anger returns to her face as she walks back to Vivian's office. The room is quite clean by now and Tobias is carrying the unused hand towels. As he is about to head out, Pamila passes him and takes a seat on the chief's chair.

"You done already?" Tobias smiles. "What happened? Was the table too tough for you?"

The boy probably thinks that there is a camaraderie brewing between the two. The fox clearly thinks otherwise. She puts her elbows on the desk and covers her face in her palms. "Listen kid, if I bribe you, would you go away and leave me alone for fifteen minutes?"

"You're not done, are you? We still need to do the restrooms."

Pamila pulls a one-hundred-dollar bill from her shirt pocket. "I'll take care of whatever you leave me. Just give me a moment, okay? My night's already ruined. I'm not going anywhere."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It is morning. The sun is just peeking up from the horizon and is starting to light what used to be pitch black ground. The insects and spiders are starting to scurry. The birds and lizards are barely awakening. In its usually slow form, California's sprawling desert stirs to life. The low, lonely ground stretches for miles with no visible destination anywhere to be seen. There seems to be no vegetation to speak of except for a few strands and patches of grass that dot the area. The atmosphere is eerily still as if wind were nonexistent. It is only early morning and the environment already looks inhabitable.

Nevertheless, somewhere in this desolate place, lying on a thick blanket they have placed on the ground, two canids are stirring too. They have chosen to sleep in the open space, unsheltered, uncovered, and vulnerable to the elements. (They are also naked. Unbelievable.)

Aurora is sleeping on her left side; her head is on her left hand and her right hand is stretched ahead of her. Her fingers barely touch the edge of the blanket. Shiloh is spooning her. His chest is touching her back, his legs are entangled with hers, and his muzzle is pressing against the back of her neck. It looks like he is kissing her, but his mouth then releases a loud snore. This manages to wake up the coyote.

Aurora's eyes blink open and she yawns quietly. She looks straight ahead in wonder and confusion. There is nothing in front of her except the very low ground and a couple of six-legged creatures. She looks at them for a moment, then her eyes suddenly widen as if she finally remembers where she is. Her movements cause Shiloh to move. He turns to lay on his back; his hands slide off her exposed body and onto his chest. Now she is able to sit up.

She sneezes and rubs her nose, irritated by the dust that covers a little bit of her face. She wipes her cheeks and looks down to inspect the rest of her body. There are streaks of dirt on her right breast, down her belly, and on her shins. Whatever she had been doing, she has certainly been busy.

She kicks her knees up to her chest and turns to Shiloh, whose snoring is starting to stop and start. She reaches over to him and rubs his belly. As her right hand brushes gently against his defined abdomen, it twitches a little and stops the snoring momentarily. The hand then goes lower, from his lower abdomen to his thighs and his groin. With her index finger, she gently scratches his sheath. That causes him to move again.

"Wake up, sleepy head. The sun is out. Almost time to move."

The grey wolf strains and slides in place. She keeps rubbing, causing him to eventually lift his arms and stretch. He yawns briefly and smiles. "Good morning," he says.

"There, that's more like it." Aurora's voice is sweet and seductive. "You had a rather long night, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but it's good to have some company on these trips. Considering everything, you did well."

His eyes are still closed, but he can now fee the hand on his lower abs. "That feels nice." He stops stretching and opens his eyes. Once he sees clouds overhead instead of a ceiling, he realizes where he is. Quickly, his head springs up from the blanket.

"Don't be alarmed," Aurora coos. "You deserve it. Like I said, you've had a long--"

"What the hell happened?"

She smirks and shifts herself closer. "You don't remember?"

"I blacked out."

"No you didn't. You got drunk."

"I did what?" He sits up and looks around. (Take a picture. This is the first and maybe the only time Shiloh can be seen without total control of his surroundings.) "I don't drink."

"Apparently you do."

"No, I mean...I don't drink on duty. I don't drink the day of the hunt. During recon, I may have one drink, but libations always wait until the job is done." A look of desperation creeps across his face. He starts breathing heavily. "What have I done?"

Aurora kisses and leans her head on his left shoulder. "Well, we started out on the hiking tour. When the humans stopped to take a gander at the Black Mountains, we started to trail away from them. Five minutes later, we were on our own. We hid from a couple of park rangers and you followed me as we ran well away from the trail. After we were sure we weren't being followed, I took out my map and pointed the way to--"

"Get to the point. What did we do last night?"

She looks up and strokes his head. "Well, we started walking and we were going at a good pace. We stopped whenever we wanted to catch our breath...and we drank water whenever we were parched. Two hours in, it was about seven, you started to panic. You were--"

"I don't remember that."

"Don't worry. It happens to the best of us. You were overwhelmed by the sameness. Everywhere you looked you saw plains, rocks, and mountains in the distance. There are no buildings, no streets, no houses, nothing you're used to back home. Plus, the heat started to get to you." Aurora puts extra loving pressure on his left thigh. "You panicked. You started hyperventilating. You couldn't take it. But you're fine now. It's okay. I promise."

"How'd I get drunk?"

"Well...." She giggles and reaches under the blanket near her left leg. "I took these from the mini-fridge in the hotel." She pulls out six miniature bottles of liquor. "I took more than this, but when I showed you the first one, you couldn't stop drinking."

"You got me drunk?" Shiloh looks around him again, more focused and less disoriented. He is probably searching for his clothes. "Why would you do that? What good would that--"

Aurora puts her hands on the grey wolf's face and forces him to look at her. She is not quite angry, but she is stern. "Let's get this straight. I didn't get you drunk. You did that yourself. I myself don't drink. You can't in this heat." She releases his face and proceeds to straddle him. He is surprised and tries to wriggle free, but she grabs his hands and smiles once again, calming him. Her tail brushes against his feet. "But I needed you, okay? I needed you calm; I needed you level-headed. I knew the drinks would come in handy because sooner or later, you were gonna crack. City people don't do well in this place." She leans forward and kisses his nose, then brings her hands up to caress his neck. "It worked...and I'm glad you're angry, even if it's at me. It means you can focus now." She kisses his muzzle lightly, almost just like Winter would. "By the way--"

"Did we just have sex?"

"By the way, we had sex." The coyote lowers her head and releases a loud, light laugh. It is the kind of laugh that would come from Winter after one of Shiloh's jokes. "I was on top. I'm sorry. That probably should have been the first thing I told you."

"What a week."

"I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, you were drunk. You weren't in total control, so you could say that you didn't cheat on your mate back home." Still on top of him, she kneels and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Let me try and make you feel better, okay?" She gives him another kiss on the muzzle, then lowers herself to kiss his neck. She moans, kisses, and licks.

In the meantime, Shiloh keeps looking straight ahead, unsure, confused, and genuinely dismayed. He has lost the entirety of last night; it seems he remembers nothing. Now he is in the middle of the Mojave desert, trying to remember his mission specs. Even though he has company, he is completely lost. Irritated from the kisses, he closes his eyes and lies back down. "I can't believe what's happening." He rubs his eyes with his index fingers. "I haven't had a hangover in years. This is just...hey!" He lifts himself up again to find Aurora on his lap, picking away at his sexual organs. Her left hand is gently stroking his scrotum. Her mouth is kissing his sheath.

"Relax," she giggles. "Just let it happen."

"What are you doing?!"

"You're panicking again. Just relax." She slowly coaxes his member from its hiding place. "I promise you, nothing bad will happen."

Still slightly buzzed, Shiloh hardly resists and watches as the coyote gently lowers her face into him; her tongue licks the head of the penis until it glistens, then licks the half of the shaft that has emerged. His right hand nears her head like it wants to caress it.

"Lie back. It'll be easier for me." She is still smiling. (She really does look like a smaller Winter.) Her left hand gently squeezes his scrotum while her right hand supports her. Once his whole penis is showing, she envelopes it in her mouth.

Shiloh grunts and does what he is told. He lies back and does not interrupt. His shaking hands lie on either side of him, grabbing on to the blanket. He exhales shakily as the sex act really starts. He closes his eyes and tries to get into it. The coyote sucks him heavily; her cheeks cave in and help create the unmistakable sounds that comes with fellatio. She tries to fit his entire member into her mouth, surprised by its size. After a minute, she stops holding it and just presses her hands on his thighs. Her head bobs up and down, first slowly then quickly. Her head does all the work and her hands give her balance.

Shiloh's breathing tightens as the pressure on his legs deepens. He pushes himself up and watches her work. "We're gonna get caught."

Aurora raises her head and releases him, coughing slightly. "By who?"

"I don't know. Predators. Snakes. Anything. We're gonna get caught doing this. I mean...it's not much of a problem for me. I blend in. You look like the ghost of an animal. I'll bet you can be seen a mile away."

"You haven't yet said stop." Still smiling, Aurora grabs her breasts and squeezes his now fully erect penis in between them. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get the toxins out of your system."

The sun has now fully surpassed the horizon and is shining on everything. The light makes the desolation around the couple clearer than before. Shiloh looks around him, then back at Aurora. The vastness that once made him is back again in full view. But now that he is being pleasurably serviced by the coyote client, nothing seems to be bothering him. As she slowly rubs, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall on the blanket. His hands unwittingly grab her wrists, but she continues undaunted.

Two minutes pass. Their breathing quickens. She closes her eyes and moans softly, exhaling on every downstroke. Her breasts are small but supple and easily capable for the task at hand. It is one of the few things that separate her from Winter; the white wolf's breasts are at least a cup size bigger. Shiloh probably feels the difference, but hardly cares. Nor does he care that he is now clearly being unfaithful. He keeps hold of the coyote's wrists and releases a long, relieved sigh.

Aurora speeds up, moaning softly as her chest suffocates his organ. She pays attention to the sounds he makes and closes her eyes with anticipation. Suddenly, he releases her wrists and puts his hands on her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples as his pelvis starts to tighten. Climax is not too far away. She squeals and moves even faster. Without warning, Shiloh really squeezes and her concentration escapes her. She shouts and falls forward. His penis is now right under her eyes.

Huffing loudly, Shiloh grabs his member and finishes himself off. It does not take long. The ejaculate squirts up and barely misses Aurora's face. She pushes herself away to watch the grey wolf pump the viscous, white stream up in the air. After two squirts, he eagerly continues stroking himself. The semen could well represent pent up frustration. There is a third squirt, then porous dribbling. When the deed is done, his left hand, scrotum, and thighs are quite covered. He looks at her in disbelief before lying down again, breathing heavily.

Aurora got a kick out of the display and laughs in appreciation. Without letting him rest, she crawls on him and lies flat on his belly. They look into each other's eyes. His posture is about to turn angry until she kisses his nose.

"There's no man I've ever met, human, furry, or whatever, who does not want that happening to him. You've got no reason to complain now."

Shiloh shakes his head, clearly embarrassed. "Don't we smell like each other enough?" His voice is really low.

"Remember, it's Aleph's nose we need to fool, not mine. If he's not convinced by smell, he will never be." She kisses his nose again and reaches her right hand down to stroke his penis. "This is exactly where you were when we did it last night. I did the work and you held me in place." Her left hand strokes his head. "It's a good thing I pulled out in time...or we'd be having little coywolves of our own."

"Okay! That's it!" The wolf shakes his head and suddenly pushes the girl off of him. "That's enough of this crap. Let's just go to the damn commune!" His penis still exposed, he stands and stumbles, surprising the client into standing with him.

"Careful! You're still hung over."

He waves her off and looks around him. He sees nothing but empty, open space and the ground he is standing on. "Where the hell are my pants?"

Aurora shakes her head with disappointment and raises the blanket. "They're in the duffle bag we used as a pillow. Remember?" She unzips the green bag and gently throws him his clothes. While he rushes to put them on, she gently dons her underwear. "You're starting to crack again. This doesn't bode well."

"I'm fine. I just can't believe you took advantage of me."

"Look who's talking, Casanova! After your tenth bottle, you thought I was your girlfriend. You wanted to have sex. I didn't object because I knew we needed to bond physically."

Shiloh is getting more frustrated. "Please tell me why we can't just meet him without doing that? I'm a killer, not an actor. You can't possibly expect me to pretend to love someone I don't...just to get one mark."

Aurora leaves her blouse and khaki shorts in the duffle bag and saunters her way to him. She surprises him, putting her arms around his waist and pressing her head to his chest. "You told me you've done recon. Have you ever done espionage?"

"To get a mark? Of course."

"Then you've pretended before. I'll bet each time you did, you got your man. I'm asking you to do the same thing for me."

"This is different."

"But it has to be done this way. Remember, you're not just chasing a mark, as you call him. You're going after the head of a community...and in effect, the community itself. We have to fool everyone there or this plan fails and you won't even get close to him. You see what we're doing right now?" She kisses his neck and turns her back to him, then leans into him and threads her tail between his legs. "We have to keep doing this. If we don't keep up the act, they'll never believe we're lovers. That's the only cover that'll get you in with me. That's the cover that'll put Aleph off guard. That's how we'll get him. So, are you up for it?"

Shiloh sighs with resignation and walks to the blanket. As he folds it, he asks, "How much does this job pay again?"

Aurora walks over to her clothes. "Well, it's...oh shit!" She gasps, then laughs. "Shit!"

"What? What is it?"

"We left the money in the hotel room!" She doubles over and places her hands on her knees, laughing the entire time. "It's under the bed!"

"No problem. Let's just move. We'll return for it when the job is done. How much further before we reach your place?"

"We're about five miles away. That's a lot of walking. You think you can handle it?"

Shiloh exhales loudly and buttons his shirt. With a look of determination, he nods. "Bring it on."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Tiger Tails is a swanky nightclub in downtown Los Angeles. A former upscale restaurant, it was founded about a month before The Shark Pit was. It is now one of the most popular hot spots for night owls and dancing fools. Unlike the bar however, the club serves humans as well as anthros. In fact, it thrives on humans for its success. The large establishment has two equally lucrative halves. The top half is the dance hall where the main action is. The atmosphere most nights resembles a rave, only less hectic since Ecstasy and other such drugs are disallowed. Within those flashing lights, there are impromptu concerts, deejays, dance competitions, and wet T-shirt contests seemingly every night. There is also a bar with a large assortment of drinks and a place to eat.)

(The bottom half of the club is where the majority of its business is done. Under the hectic dancing is an ultra exclusive club that takes advantage of why the building was given its name. The nightclub happens to be home to a thriving escort business, whose workers take home thousands of dollars a night. Being specific, Tiger Tails specializes in hooking up humans with big cats and other exotic felines. Apparently, enough humans have that fetish so much so that the enterprise has become a moneymaker. The service is for humans only and anyone who wants to take part has to pay exorbitant amounts of money. But once payment is made, the customer not only gets royal treatment, but also has his pick of at least fifteen girls to sleep with.)

(The number of girls is large indeed, but they are also of supreme quality. Among them are a couple of lions, tigers, panthers, lynx, civets, and savannahs. They each charge the same base rate, but also charge special rates for certain acts and lengths of time. Any of the girls can be "rented" for a time before returning to the club. For most however, they stay in the basement with their clients and either have sex, give foot rubs or back rubs, or give full body massages. In the Tiger Tails basement, VIPs are treated extraordinarily well.)

(Recently, the exotic escorts have attracted men who have also happened to be marks. As such, Tiger Tails has been constantly visited for the last year by Zesty, Mariana, and Pamila. While Zesty and Mariana have managed to coax their marks away from the nightclub, the fox has never been as successful, though she has come close. Maybe it is because of this that she and Camille have now parked her red vehicle at the Tiger Tails lot across the street from the establishment.)

Camille exits the car first. She is dressed in a black, lacy party dress that only reaches down to her knees. She is also wearing a string of pearls around her neck, a ladies' gold wrist watch, a gold anklet, and expensive designer high heels. She is clearly not worried about anything getting stolen and ignores her attire for the moment to look at the building in front of them. Tiger Tails is about fifty yards away, shining brightly and bellowing out is monotonous dance music.

Now the driver side door opens. Pamila peers her head out but stays inside. "Unbelievable. I just changed the oil to this damn thing."

"I told you to get professional help." Camille is still looking at the building and pays fleeting attention to her friend. "It might not be the oil."

The fox stares at the building too, but is not smiling like the cat is. Instead, she seems nervous. Seeing the outside of the nightclub has momentarily stopped her from getting out of the car. She sighs deeply and sinks into her seat. "Whatever. We're here now."

"Yes we are. So why are you still in there?" Camille crouches to see her friend looking quite somber. "It's because of him, isn't it? You haven't seen him in a long time because you haven't been here in a long time. Aren't you anxious to go meet him?"

Pamila folds her arms. "Don't you think it would be embarrassing if I asked him for Brice's whereabouts and he told me he didn't know?"

"I think you're more worried that he still has feelings for you. It has been a while since you two were an item."

"The relationship wouldn't have lasted long anyway. You can't be a killer and be in love with someone else. It's just not compatible."

Camille laughs. "You said the L word! Does that mean you were once in love with him?"

Pamila spits and gets out of the car. "Love is stupid."

"Oh yeah? Then why are you wearing that?! Doesn't he love fishnet stockings?"

Pamila is wearing a red blouse, red camo shorts, and thigh-high fishnet stockings, also red. Her clothing is exactly the shade of red that she is. The only items of significant difference are her black sneakers. "Let's just go," she says. They close the doors and go through the parking lot. Once they cross the street, they are only twenty yards away.

"Seriously, couldn't you wear something simple? Something like I'm wearing?"

"What's wrong with what I have on?"

"You're dressed like you should be displayed in front of a store window. You haven't seen Silas in a long time. Why couldn't you have picked a nice blouse and a decent miniskirt? You could have shown him some leg without overdoing it."

"What about what you have on?"

"Don't rag on my dress." Camille laughs and shoulder-bumps her friend. "It's served me well on many occasions."

"I'm talking about the jewelry, smart ass. You don't wear pearls. You don't wear a watch."

"These items are for the occasion. You're just jealous that you don't have the excellent accessories that I do."

"You look like a walking welcome sign for muggers! If you looked any more enticing, even I would rip those things off your neck."

"Well, Pam, I'm gonna be just fine...because if any thieves try to take my jewels, my bodyguard will come to my rescue."

"Really? Who's that?"

Camille stops walking to punch her friend's right shoulder. "You, stupid."

Pamila rubs her shoulder and laughs. "Forget it, girly. I've already said my piece against wearing that stuff. If anyone tries to take it, I'm not gonna stop 'em."

"Fine, whatever." Camille huffs as they both slow down. Then the cat smiles broadly. "Never mind, Pam. You're fired. Tom's here. He'll do the guarding."

She is pointing to the front entrance, which is now only mere feet away. Standing on either side of it are two tall, muscular anthros. They are conversing with each other while they wait for more entrants. Right now, the street is virtually empty, so they have nothing else to do. The one to the right of the doors is an Afghan. He has strands of fur covering his eyes. Most of his visible fur is made up of white strands. He looks woefully unkempt, but his size and muscle tone would easily stop anyone from saying that to his face. The being to the left of the doors is an all-black tomcat with better-coiffed fur. He is wearing a blazer and dark trousers, so his muscles are not in view. However, he is about as tall as Shiloh is, so he is still imposing. He is also a bit thinner; he looks like a professional athlete taking a day off.

Camille pulls a compact mirror from her designer purse and inspects her face. "For a bouncer, Tom sure looks good. I've added a little color to my cheeks since I last saw him. You think he'll notice?"

The fox shrugs. "What do I care? He likes you already. Just go say hi."

"You still mad at him?"

"I just wish he'd stop asking about work. He keeps asking questions I can't answer. He's so damned nosy." She watches as Camille puts the mirror back in its place. "Stop overcompensating."

"Hey, you just focus on Silas. He's got the information on the mark, right? You remember how to ask him without making him suspicious?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know what to do." After a brief break, they start walking again. "Tell me something. Why doesn't Tom have a tail again?"

Camille rolls her eyes. "Because he's a Manx. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Sorry, but it still looks weird. He looks like a cat suit with a human inside. I'm tempted to tell him where the furry convention is."

"If you say that in front of him, I'll kill you."

With the bouncers a short distance away, they notice the girls talking. The cat is in the background. He waves at Camille which causes her to run to the entrance. The Afghan looks at him suspiciously, but the Manx is ready to accept their presence. He steps away from the entrance and accept Camille, who stops running just before she bumps into him. She throws her arms around him and yells, "Good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too! Where've you been all month?" Tom's voice sounds hoarse, the obvious result of long hours of work. He hugs her back and closes his eyes. The two cats look like long, lost friends. "I was almost worried there."

Camille pats him on the back and releases him. Meanwhile, Pamila slowly makes her way to the entrance and stands next to the Afghan. They look on at the cats with apparent disapproval.

"So again, where've you been all month? The place was starting to look drab without you."

"Working, my friend. Working hard." She turns to draw his attention to the fox. "You remember Pamila, right?"

"Yes, I do! And where has she been?" Tom starts toward the fox, then stops to contemplate her clothing. "What the hell do you have on?"

Pamila puts her hands on her hips, uninterested and inpatient. "If you're gonna say something bad about my clothes, do me a favor and don't say anything. I didn't dress for you. "

Tom shrugs. "All right. Hey! Let me introduce your guys to our newest recruit." He points ahead, getting the girls to look at the Afghan. "He just came to us two weeks ago, all the way from Sardinia. His name is Ottorino, but are boss has been pronouncing it 'Otter-ino,' so we just call an Otter. Say hi, Otter."

The Afghan has an accent. He waves at Camille and yells, "Hi!"

Pamila backs away. " Nice. I want to see Silas. Is he working today?"

Tom nods. "You ladies are in luck. He's just taken a break. He should be right behind those doors, where he normally stays. What you all want him for anyway?"

Camille shakes her head. "I don't want him. Pamila does."

"Ah. Still pining I see. Well Pamila, he misses you too."

The fox is angrier than before and quickly walks to the doors. "Just shut up. I'm not here for a love-in. I'm looking for someone and Silas knows where he is."

"That someone doesn't happen to be a patron of the club, now does he? Because we don't divulge that kind of info."

"For your information Felix, that matter is between me and him. Don't interfere. Just keep doing your muscle-headed job." She barges in and disappears.

The bouncers look on confusedly while Camille just folds her arms and shakes her head. "Unbelievable. Sorry about that, Tom. She's had a long - -"

"Felix?" Tom looks at her, more confused than ever.

Camille walks up to him and stands on his toes to kiss his left cheek. "Felix the cat. The wonderful, wonderful cat. Because he's black all over like you."

"I am unfamiliar with the reference, but I'm glad you called me wonderful."

"Oh, please!" Otter yells. "Is she going in?"

"Whoa, calm down Otter. Camille is my friend. I haven't seen her in over a month and she's a regular customer. She behaves herself and never get drunk enough to kick out. She's always welcome at Tiger Tails."

The dog shakes his head, his dreadlocks flopping about as he does. "You sound like a commercial, but if you trust her, so do I."

They hear the music change outside; it causes the people on the other side of the entrance to scream with delight. The noise entices Camille toward the doors, but Tom stops her with a hand on her back. "Hey, listen," he starts. "It's been a month, and I've thought long and hard about it, so...you ready to answer my question?"

The cat sidles close to him. "And what question is that?"

"Will you go out with me?"

"I'm still thinking about it. I've already told you how hectic work is, and--"

"Well, I don't really believe you since you still haven't told me what you do for a living."

"Well...." She giggles and grabs his right arm. "I'm not too busy this weekend or next, so I have more time than I know what to do with. I'll tell you what. I'll say yes to going out with you if you flex for me."

"Flex?"

"Yes! Take off that suit and show me your biceps." She laughs as she watches him unbutton his blazer. "Why are you wearing that anyway? I didn't know you to be so formal."

"I'm going to a function later. Thomas Maynard is holding a fundraiser. You know him, right? He's our governor's opponent in the November election."

"Heard of him, but don't follow politics much."

"Oh, you should. And you should support Mr. Maynard if you believe that the treatment of anthros under the current regime is unfair." He starts to take off the coat. "He needs our support. Would you like to come with me? I could pay for the both of us."

"Well...I have other plans but...wow! Now that's ripped! Look at you!"

Tom shows off his well-defined arms thanks to his cotton, short-sleeved shirt. She puts her hands around his left bicep and whistles loudly. Otter shakes his head and turns away, spotting Pamila still hanging around by the entrance. The fox shares Otter's sentiment; she shakes her head with disappointment as she watches her friend fawn over the bouncer. She sighs heavily and finally enters the building.

Just inside the front doors is another small room. In here, the customers' coats, handbags, and iPhones are placed for safekeeping. This room is also where the escort transactions are made. To the far right of the room is an expensive-looking marble table. On top of it are stacks of paper, a laptop, and ID scanner, and a cash register. Above the table is a sign that says NO CAMERAS ALLOWED INSIDE. To Pamila's left is a bureau with two drawers. That is where the customers' items are kept for them while they dance the night away.

Standing in front of the bureau, with his back to the fox, is a white rabbit. He does not look a regular customer. He is wearing a black T-shirt, black shorts, and flip-flops on his feet. He stands about six feet tall and has about as many bulges on his arms as the Manx does. He is standing in front of a couple of more doors; they are transparent and he can see the dancing inside. In the right hand is a half-empty bottle of beer, so he is obviously taking some time off from his duties.

Suddenly, a loud song breaks out from inside the room. It is the feedback from a microphone that pierces the air. The noise causes the rabbit to drop the bottle. He curses and searches his pockets until he pulls out a black cell phone. As he answers the call, he bends down to pick up the bottle. Pamila focuses on his rear end, complete with the white, fluffy tail sticking up. She smiles and closes her eyes, as if thinking about or remembering something pleasant. Whatever feelings of dread she had at the beginning have apparently washed away. Keeping her eyes closed, she clears her throat.

The rabbit's attention quickly moves from the dancers as he swings himself around. One look at the fox and his attitude changes. He drops the beer bottle once again and gasps a couple of times. The liquid spills all over the floor, but his eyes stay on the fox. She gives a little smile and puts her hands on her hips. She is happy to see him, but not enthusiastically so.

"How are ya?" she asks.

"Holy shit," he whispers. "As I live and breathe...is that you?"

"Say my name and I'll give you a prize."

The rabbit is awestruck; he shakes his head and swallows. His normally erect ears start to droop. Despite the muscles, he no longer looks like a bouncer. He instead has the look of a lost tourist. He smiles and folds his arms. "Pamila."

"Hello, Silas." She struts toward him, drawing his attention to her hips. When she gets close enough, she puts his arms around his thick trunk. "It's good to see you again."

The rabbit shakes his hand, not quite believing what has just happened. He squeezes her tightly and exhales with longing and relief. "My God."

"No big deal. I like this place, so I was gonna come back sooner or later."

"No big deal? The last time you were here, there was still snow on the ground north of here." He releases her except to put his hands on her shoulders. "Six months, babe. That's long time to make me wait."

"Yeah, I've been unfair to you, and you don't deserve it, but I needed to work."

"You miss work that badly?"

"I needed money that badly. I couldn't get it waiting for you. And I also needed to think. I mean...since we first hooked up, you got this job and I got my job and...." Pamila sighs upon seeing Silas' disapproving stare. "Don't look at me like that, okay? I didn't complain when you decided to work here. Sure, I hated your decision. After all, working in a place like this means you'd fall for all the eye candy on the dance floor. But I stood by your side as long as I could, until...."

Silas pretty much rams his face in to hers, jamming his mouth on her still talking muzzle. The kiss is forceful at first, causing the fox to mumble angrily. But soon it melts down into a soft, caressing, sensual act. He hears her moan, then places his hands on her cheeks. They eventually slide down her neck and on her shoulders. His fingers find their way under her shirt as they part. "I'd like to hear more of your tirade," he says, "but my break's only for twenty more minutes. I just wanna ask...where have you been all this time?"

His hands continue to rub her shoulders. Suddenly, Pamila feels bad, as if she knows she has done something wrong. She looks at her feet and lets her head lean against his chest. "Look, I don't know what to tell you, okay?"

"Stop it. No bullshit. What took you away from me for six freakin' months?" The loud cheering of the crowd on the other side of the glass doors interrupts him for a bit. "I go to your apartment; you're not there. I call you on the phone; you don't answer. I check my e-mail and you don't say a word. So what is it you do for a living? I think I deserve to know." He holds her close to him.

The fox waits a couple of minutes, pressing her head even harder to his chest. She says nothing for some time, but feels him getting impatient. She nods and says, "I'm a hitman. I kill people. I work for rogue ex-cops who use furries to do their dirty work. I'm one of them and I've spent the last six months doing my job. I've been doing it for two years now. In six months, I've killed seven people. I'm also responsible for the bombing of the Italian restaurant last month. To date, that's my last hit. There, I said it." She stares at him and waits for an answer.

Silas pushes her away from him, but still holds on to her shoulders. He looks at her sternly and opens his mouth. A strained grunt escapes, but he says nothing for a while.

"What happened?" Pamila raises her right hand and snaps her fingers near his left ear. "You broken or something?"

Suddenly, the rabbit snaps out of his trance, closes his eyes, and starts laughing. It starts small, then grows into a loud chortle. He releases her and puts his hands on his knees. "Yeah, right! A hitman! Be serious! What do you really do?"

She shrugs. "Don't believe, huh?"

"You couldn't kill roadkill. And you're a hitman?" The laughter continues until the fox turns her back to him. "Wait a minute. Get back here." He grabs her arms and turns her around. "Fine. We'll discuss that stuff later, okay? I just don't want to lose you again, okay?"

"Look, I make money. That's all that matters. If I make enough, and I asked you to, would you leave this place?"

"Leave this place? And do what?"

"Hey, you don't fool me. I know your type. While I was away, I'll bet you've fucked most, if not all the girls who work here. I'm not mad. Just don't tell me you like working here. I'm just saying that if I make enough, we can finally live together and there would be no more six-month breaks." Silas is about to speak, but she raises her left hand to his mouth and presses it shut. "Besides, now that I'm here, we can fool around for as long as you're able."

"Okay, can I speak? I just wanna ask--and please level with me--are you really here to see me or do you just wanna ask me for another favor? I'm asking because the very last time I saw you, you asked me about a guy who frequents this place. You remember what happened next?"

Pamila nods angrily. "You told me that the info would cost me. I told you I'd do whatever you asked. Then we went to the parking lot, you drove us to some secluded place, and we had sex."

"Then I told you what you wanted to know. The trade was excellent for me, I won't lie. You were great. But there's a problem, you see. The guy I told you about was the son of one of our investors. He held private parties in here; a very important guy. A week after I told you about him, he stopped coming. He was on a first-name basis with everyone at the club, including the proprietor. Then I tell you about him. Suddenly, there's no sign of him. His father's had people looking for him the last three months, all the while blaming us for his disappearance." He moves in closer. " So, um...not that I'm placing blame, but you wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

"Maybe his wife found out about this place and set him straight. I don't know."

Silas nods and says, "Forgive me." He hugs her, but she is stung enough by the accusation that she keeps her hands down. "So? Now that you're here, what would you like to do?"

"Don't judge me, okay? I need a favor again. I need some info."

"Who is it this time?"

"A punk named Ronald Brice. He stole from me and owes me money. I know he comes here, and--"

"Aw, come on! Six months away from me and this is the first thing you ask me?"

"I'll always have time for you, but right now I need to know where Mr. Brice is."

"No." He vigorously shakes his head. "I can't believe you're doing this again."

"I'm sorry. Was that a no?"

Silas turns his back to her and watches the crowd through the glass door. "You heard me."

The fox slowly walks up to him and presses her chest against his back. A devious smile forms as she wraps her arms around his chest. She breathes on the back of his neck and squeezes him. Silas does not respond right away, but Pamila looks like she has a plan and is eager to put it to great effect. She continues teasing him, lifting herself on her toes and playfully biting his right shoulder. "Don't make me beg. If you're worried about anything bad happening--"

"I'm worried about betraying the owner. It's bad enough you know Brice's name. He's friends with our boss. I can't just--"

"Can your boss put out like I can?" She plants her palms on his chest and gently runs them up and down, from his collarbone to his belly. He keeps his stoic look, trying to act professional while still staring at the partygoers on the dance floor. His eyes close tightly as he slowly gives in to her touches. She kisses his back as her hands proceed lower. Her hands are surprisingly gentle and deft. Suddenly, her left hand lands on his crotch and grabs.

"Hey! Whoa, not here!"

"You know, you could just tell me where he is right now and I'll go find him. I promise it won't come back to haunt you."

"Forget it. If I'm going to give away company secrets to my girlfriend, then she's gonna give me some. Come with me." He grabs her left wrist and drags her through the glass doors.

As soon as the doors are opened, the couple is hit with the smells and sounds of the wide and vibrant room. The music is unforgivingly loud; Pamila covers her right ear with her free hand and loses her balance while being dragged. Seeing that she is about to fall, Silas stops to pull her ahead of him. He grabs her shoulders and pushes her past the dance floor. On the far right side of the room, there is a ramp that is about fifty yards long and leads up to the floor above. The fox is pushed up the ramp with such force that she runs once she is halfway up.

On top of the ramp, there are a couple of human females dressed in denim shorts and simple, cotton T-shirts of light colors. The next contest begins in a few minutes and they all look excited. Silas waves hi to them all as he guides the fox through one of the rooms. He closes the door so that the outside sounds are muted. "Follow me," he says.

Pamila obeys suspiciously, but does not question him. They have just entered the observation deck, where the entire floor below can be scoped by security or the owner. There is nobody in here right now. They go through this room and into another. Here, the thumping music is even quieter, even pleasant to the ear. Silas turns the light on to reveal what looks like a lounge. Just to the right of the door, the only door in the room, is a red couch with five small cushions on it. It looks soft and inviting. Behind the far end is a small table with three owl figurines and a vase on it. To the left is a long table with eight chairs arranged around it. On the table is a packet of paper plates, a box of plastic forks, and a covered party tray with assorted deli meats and cheeses inside. The tray is at the center of the table and it is the first thing Pamila sees.

"Ooh, cold cuts." She springs herself to the table and opens the party tray. As she takes out a slice of cotto salami, she has it snatched from her.

"Don't eat this," he says. "It's from this morning." He tosses it back in the tray and closes it while the fox licks her fingers. "This is the room where the...um...models are interviewed. Surprisingly, we get at least four or five of them a day."

"By models, you mean whores. Right?"

The rabbit clears his throat. "How do you know about that?"

"I'm friends with some exotic cats who live around here. I was gonna find out sooner or later. Don't worry. They won't tell anyone. Now, about Ronald Brice?"

"First of all, keep your voice down. Right next to this room is the VIP room. It's where the owner entertains his most personal, private guests. It's where he makes his backroom deals that keep this place afloat. Ronald Brice is usually one of those guests."

"Is he here now?"

"No."

"Well, where is he?"

"You know the drill." He starts to unbutton his shorts. "Remember, as long as we're in here, you've got to be quiet. There are important deals being made next door."

Pamila stands there with her arms folded, watching as Silas unbuttons his shorts. Even fully undone, his shorts hang tightly to his lower body thanks to the briefs he is wearing. He slowly pulls both down to reveal his erect penis. "We've got about fifteen minutes," he says as he releases his scrotum.

"Wow. You've had this thing on standby, haven't you?" She crouches until the organ is at eye level. "I don't suppose you'd tell me where Brice is if I threatened to bite your balls off, huh?" She looks up at him to see his angry face, then laughs as she starts to lick the head of his shaft. Her left hand grips it while her right hand fondles his groin. She licks the head up and down and even gets the tip inside her mouth, barely.

Silas shakes his head and eagerly puts his right hand on the back of her head. He tries to push his member further into her mouth. Pamila pulls it up and looks at him. "Tell me where he is first."

"He's not here. He just left not five minutes ago. It seems like he passed you by as you were coming in."

"Do you know where he was going?"

"Start blowing and I'll tell you." He grabs his penis from her hand and presses it against her left cheek. "If you complain, I won't tell you a thing."

Pamila agrees, angry at being forced to comply. Without any more hesitation, she guides the long, pink rod into her mouth. She is not shy about it and swallows the whole thing to start. This is exactly what Silas wants and he shows how eager he wants it; he presses his hands on her head and tries to guide her speed. In the process, he makes her execute faster than she is ready for. Her hands grab on to his thighs, clawing them while Silas tries to force the act. He grunts in some pain and says, "You could act like you're enjoying this."

She turns her head until his penis is out. "Stop pushing me and I will." She waits until he releases her and then takes over, holding the base and massaging the head with her tongue. She then eases it halfway in, still moving her tongue around. Silas nods and closes his eyes. After a minute, his breathing starts to shake. The fox's head moves back and forth and her hands gently grab his rear end.

Silas looks down at her and smiles with approval. "Brice paid for a night with one of the models. He paid her for the entire night, which means...mmm, that's good...which means they won't be back together until tomorrow morning, when he brings her back here. Unfortunately, this place will be closed so you couldn't come inside."

Pamila releases him. "What time will he be here?"

"Touch yourself."

"Huh?!"

"Undo your pants and touch yourself. I wanna hear you feel it. Then I'll tell you. Don't stop doing what you're doing."

The fox goes from crouching to kneeling and contemplates the order for a few seconds. Still eager to get an answer, she unbuttons the top button and unzips the red, camo shorts. Her mouth resumes the blowjob with her left hand holding the penis steady. Her right hand does what Silas wants and slides down between her legs. The shorts fall a little bit down her legs, exposing a bit of her backside. She slowly starts to rub herself.

"You're going commando, I see," Silas says. "I like it." He puts his hands on his hips and watches her work. He looks about as dominant as he feels from just standing there, enjoying the pleasurable feelings from Pamila's mouth. Soon, she emits some soft, muffled moans as her fingers rub her privates. Silas likes that even more. "Five o'clock. The deal is for Brice to return with the savannah at five a.m. tomorrow. She works here, but word has it that he wants to be his girlfriend. He's had sex exclusively with her for two months, and she likes him too. They've been staying at her place every weekend this past month. They're coming tomorrow to sign some papers. After that, they'll be a couple and she'll no longer work here."

The fox's mouth releases him again, panting with both exhaustion and pleasure. Her right hand is still under her shorts. Her face is flushed; about as red as a red fox's face gets. She takes a couple of breaths before she says, "If he's a friend of this place, then you guys know where he lives. Tell me."

"No way."

"Fine. The model then. What's her name and where does she live? I'll talk to her instead. I can get to him through her."

"No way. You wanna talk to Brice? I can arrange for you to meet him here tomorrow after he returns with the model. But the model herself is off limits. Just come back here at seven."

"I can't involve anyone else in this. It's just between me and him. I need to see him alone!"

"Lower your voice. It's just not gonna happen your way. My way protects everyone's interests. Just...."

Pamila surprises Silas by standing and reaching up to kiss his mouth. Then she saunters to the couch, sliding her shorts down as she does. She lies on it, kicks her legs up, and slides the shorts to her knees. Silas looks on, stunned and impressed. The fox's thighs make her look like she has been bulking up. The rabbit shakes his head and approaches the couch. "My God, you look gorgeous."

She smirks and sits upright. "A quickie for the information. Just like old times."

Apparently, Silas has really missed her. He takes just a few seconds to say, "Fine, but on your belly."

She shrugs and obeys. Her shorts are still wrapped around her knees, but she comfortably rotates herself until she is prone. She is tall enough to take up the entire couch. The smile returns to her face; she believes she is close to getting the information she wants.

Silas kneels beside her and strokes her rear end. "Stick your ass up," he says softly. "Let me see it again." She barely does so when his right hand reaches in between her legs. She moves her tail out of the way so he can get full access. "That's it," he says. He grabs her legs to spread them, then puts his face in her crotch. Holding her steady, he starts to lick the area he is most concerned with. After teasing for a minute, he buries his nose into her.

Pamila releases a loud moan, partially in shock at the unexpectedness of his force. "Keep quiet," Silas says. She grabs on to the end of the couch and grits her teeth. The moaning is still too loud for the rabbit's liking, so he slows down and licks gently. He strokes his tongue up her clit. At the same time, his nose rubs hard against her taint. Each touch gives the fox a sensation that shivers her back and strains her breathing. She grips the couch arm even harder.

Suddenly, the licking stops. The fox's face goes from strained to relieved. She exhales deeply a few times as the shockwaves dissipate. She licks her lips and chuckles when she turns to look as Silas. She then sees that his shorts are around his ankles. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Sorry babe, but time's a-wasting." He has his penis in his left hand, about to guide it in.

"Wait, just tell me...oooh!"

"I said quiet." He creeps forward, planting his left foot on the floor and pressing his right knee on the couch cushions. He grabs Pamila by the waist and pulls her rear end to his pelvis. One thrust and the fox gasps loudly. "Cover your mouth," he commands.

Pamila's back is arched and her face is in the air. Her mouth is wide open, expelling the grunts of someone being invaded. She covers her mouth with both hands and rests her head on the armrest. Her tail wraps itself around his back while he thrusts slowly. He smiles at her and looks at his watch. Time is obviously short because he speeds up the pace. His hands claw and hold her rear in place, keeping him upright and allowing him all the force he wants. Her hands stifle the wailing, but the harder he pounds her, the louder she gets. Silas continues, acting like he hardly cares.

His pink flesh glistens as it slides in and out of her. He leans forward to rub her clitoral hood, releasing more of her fluids and causing her to bury her head in the couch. She uncovers her mouth and grabs on the arm again. Her shouts and pants grow louder and more frantic. With a cushion smothering her face, she sounds like she is fighting instead of having sex.

Suddenly, Silas stops and removes himself from her. He keeps her rear in the air, but she is able to turn her head and breathe easier. Her pants are shaking but quiet. Her once tightened glutes now relax, along with the rest of her, as she comes down from her forced high. She looks at him and licks her lips again, trying to be as seductive as possible. This time however, there is no laugh. Her fur is disheveled; her top clings to her with static electricity; her whiskers are a mishmash of frayed wires. She looks less sexy than ever. At least she gets to relax.

"Sorry, babe," Silas says, licking his middle finger, "but I'm running out of time. You know what I want. I know you refused it before, but if you want to know where the savannah lives, it's gonna cost you."

"Do what...ohh! Aw...geez!"

His left hand massages her vagina. His middle finger is in the other hole. He rides it in and out slowly, shouting, "Keep quiet and I'll give you the details." He plunges his middle finger as far into her anus as it can go. She squirms and bucks with diminishing control of her senses while he tries to hold her in place. "This will be over in a moment," he says. He removes his middle finger from the opening and replaces it with his tongue.

This sensation seems new to the fox. Her body responds with more shakes and trembles. Her tightly closed mouth struggles to keep her voice inside. She is aching to scream, either in pain or in bliss, but they could get caught if that happens. Still, the rabbit continues to lick and prod eagerly, making silence impossible. She buries her snout into the couch and clasps her hands behind her head. Her squeals are suffocated effectively, but it is clear she will not last long.

After a minute of rimming, he stands over her. Without saying a word, he gently eases the penis head into her rectum. He grits his teeth, clearly agreeing with what he is feeling. "You've certainly saved yourself for this."

Pamila still has her hands on the back of her head, pressing her face into the cushion. She has been recuperating from the rimjob, only to feel herself being penetrated again. Suddenly, Silas' entire member enters her. Her hands grip the fur on her head; her right leg shudders violently; her mouth forces a loud scream that is absorbed by the soft cushion. Silas pulls back and says, "The savannah's name is Doris and she lives just ten miles from here. Just let me finish up and I'll tell you everything. Then you can visit her...and Brice any time you want." With that, he rams himself back in, ready to begin.

When he starts to push, Pamila raises her head to get some cushion-free breaths. She grits her teeth and turns to look at her boyfriend with a pained and rueful face. Her tail uncontrollably beats against his chest. In response, he grabs it and puns it to her back. He never stops his rhythm.

The feeling overwhelms the fox; she throws her arms forward and grabs on to the table in front of her. Pamila says nothing, but it is clear that she does not like what is happening. Silas has his eyes closed and fails to notice. He hammers, she tenses and squeals, the table she is grabbing onto shakes vigorously with each thrust. Suddenly, an owl figurine falls on the floor. Then another falls off its base.

Silas, who had been in his own happy world, hears the noise and opens his eyes just in time to see the glass vase tip over. He stops his thrusting as the item smashes on the floor. Water and glass splash all over the place. As quiet as the sex tried to be, there is no hiding this noise. Someone will have heard that.

"You idiot!" Angrily, Silas grips Pamila's butt and viciously yanks himself away. He immediately pulls his briefs and shorts up, trying desperately to force his penis under his clothes. He pulls his shirt down as far as it can go and yells, "They heard that! They've got to have heard that!"

The fox has been pushed off the sofa and is now on the floor, on her back. Her head is just an inch away from the broken shards that are seemingly everywhere. She shakes as if the rabbit were still in her; her faculties are momentarily shot. Sitting on the floor, she grunts in pain and looks around her with panic on her face. There is nobody else in the room and it looks like no one is coming. Once she remembers where she is, she calls out, "Silas!"

He sees the figurines, the glass, and the woman on the floor. It looks too much for him to handle. "Forget it, babe. You're on your own."

"Silas!" Pamila stands and tries to go after him, but falls on the couch. Her shorts are still around her ankles. She pulls them up frantically as she sees her boyfriend open the door and leave. There is no time to put her tail through the hole in the back. As soon as she is able, she runs out the door, through the observation deck, and on to the ramp above the dance floor.

The crowd screams in delight at the soaked contestants of the wet T-shirt contest. The stage down below has ten girls, five human, getting their bosoms sprayed with water by five men carrying seltzer bottles. In front of the stage, the crowd of hundreds wails in delirium. The moderator yells something as the girls take their shirts off. It is a wonder anybody can hear anything with all the noise.

Pamila follow's Silas' scent down the ramp and on the dance floor. She calls out his name a couple of times and looks around in vain. She looks back at the glass doors that separate the crowd from the entrance. The rabbit is not there and does not appear to be outside. That means he is in the crowd. Even with his large size and his distinguishable fur color, the fox cannot see him anywhere.

The dancers-turned-spectators are just two feet in front of her. From above, they were a loud nuisance. Up close, they are a formidable mob. Pamila jumps as high as she can in an attempt to see Silas among them. She jumps twice more but he is invisible among the people. Discouraged and in pain, she trudges away from the dance floor and through the glass doors. She hears the sound of Tom and Otter conversing and shudders angrily. The entrance is already open; she simply walks through.

The fox is in no mood to talk to anyone, so she is startled when the Manx approaches her and yells, "So! How was it?" She keeps her quivering mouth closed as she looks at him. Her hands also shake. She has just been violated for no real reason, so she really wants to lay into him, into anyone. Otter inquires, "Are you okay?"

"Where's Camille?" she asks.

Tom smiles innocently. "In the parking lot. She's waiting for you. Hey, do you know your shorts have been ripped? Right there, on your left side. What the hell happened?"

Pamila cannot stand the sight of the men right now and simply walks away. She opens her mouth to take some deep breaths. Every time her right foot steps on the ground, she winces. There appears not to be a limp and there are no discernible injuries visible. She simply looks beaten down and uncomfortable. Eventually, she finds her friend leaning against her car and smoking a cigarette.

Camille leans against the driver's door, enjoying herself, but stands at attention when the fox appears. "It's about time. Silas must have had a bundle of information. You ready to go?" She steps away from the door and enters the car through the other side.

Pamila sits down and grabs the steering wheel with both hands. She grips it tightly and hangs her head. Her shaky breathing is loud, but somehow goes unregistered by Camille, who has her eyes closed. The cat is leaning back in her seat and smiling from ear to ear. She takes a drag from her half-used cigarette and throws it through the open window. "Guess what?" she asks.

The fox still feels like hitting somebody, but enough time has passed that she has cooled herself down. "What, Camille?"

"He said yes. I told Tom about the party and invited him. And he said yes!" She giggles and coughs slightly. "Now the party will really sizzle. Tom knows just about everybody in town since so many people go to Tiger Tails. So the room will be filled with juicy gossip."

"Gossip? Really? Are you hosting a party or a coffee klatch?"

"Hey, Tom is a reliable source of information. He could easily be an informant for me without him knowing about the work I do. I'll just ask him about someone and he'll tell me. He's really nice. We could both use a guy like him."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Speaking of which, how did things go with Silas? Did you pry anything out of him?"

The cat's unwittingly poor choice of words causes Pamila to bang her head on the steering wheel. "Well, if you must know, it was a complete disaster. Apparently, the mark doesn't go to Tiger Tails just for the sex. He's like some high roller whose money they need. Silas was slow in dishing out what I needed."

Camille shrugs. "Well, that's all right. You can't hunt yet anyway. Once you're able to, the info will be valuable. Tell me what he said and I'll write it down."

"It doesn't matter. He told me nothing. The mark is coming here tomorrow morning with one of the girls who works in there. He bought her for the night and they want to be together. Tomorrow's her last day. She'll be here tomorrow morning, then he'll take her back to his place...I guess. I can't hunt until next week, so I can't meet them at the parking lot or whatever. The bastard wouldn't even tell me where the whore lives, so I don't know how to find either of them."

"And I bet you wouldn't find his name in the phone book. Tough luck, friend." Camille yawns loudly while Pamila moans in pain. One does not hear the other. "But remember, it's not your time yet. Forget Brice. Don't dwell on it, okay?" The cat reaches to pat the fox's right shoulder, then observes carefully as she shudders from her touch. She is shivering in pain and anger. The cat backs away a bit. "Pamila?"

The fox swallows and turns to face her. Her grip on the steering wheel softens, but everything else about her is tense. She tries to slow her breathing down and alleviate the cat's suspicions. But Camille can immediately tell what has just happened.

"Oh, my God!"

"Don't start."

"You had sex! You had sex with Silas, didn't you?!"

"It's nothing."

"It's...." Camille stutters and shakes her head. She is now just as angry as the fox. She folds her arms and looks straight ahead. "Unbelievable!"

"I told you, it's nothing!"

"Just stop! Don't say that! You broke our promise!"

"What promise?!"

"Don't give me that!" Camille's raised voice attracts the attention of a couple of passersby behind them. "Didn't we promise not to do that anymore? Or have you forgotten?" She turns to the fox and waits for an answer, but only gets the back of the fox's head. She smirks. "No wonder you're so tense. You got used as a cum dump!"

"He didn't finish."

"It doesn't matter!" The cat inhales and lets herself relax. "We promised ourselves--"

"You don't have to remind me!"

"We promised ourselves after Zesty got fired...that the war was over, that we would never again have sex with marks or friends of marks. We wouldn't debase ourselves like that anymore. We promised each other, remember?" Camille's anger starts to wane, replaced by urgent concern. "So what happened? Did he force it on you?"

"I wanted to, okay? He wasn't just some nobody to have sex with and forget about. He was my boyfriend for the past year."

"You weren't serious and you haven't seen him in months. This didn't have to happen. Why are you shaking like that?"

Pamila leans back on the seat and covers her face with her hands. "He pulled out."

"He did what?"

"He pulled out! He pulled...out!"

Camille grits her teeth and sucks in air. "From the backdoor?! Just like that?!"

"Fuck."

"Did it hurt?" She swallows as she watches Pamila turn to her angrily. "Right. Never mind. So, um...." She shakes her head with complete disbelief and opens her door. "Let's switch places. I'm driving."

"You're what?"

"Get up, Pam. I'm driving us home. At your state, you're gonna crash us into a bus or something. I'm driving."

She is not eager to leave her seat, and it takes great effort to do so. She strains to even stand, but a short minute later, she is in the passenger seat while Camille starts the car. The fox winces some more. "I need a drink."

"You sure you don't need a hospital?"

"And tell them what?"

Camille thinks about it as she drives from the parking lot. "That your ass hurts?"

"All I need is ice and bed rest." She reclines the chair as far down as it can go and closes her eyes.

"You're not shaking anymore. That's good. I'm very sorry this didn't work out, but the mark was never an option of yours to begin with."

"Don't be silly. That mark is mine."

"Pam, by the time you're finally able to work, Mr. Brice's picture will be taken by someone else. Just cut your losses. A week from now, you'll try again with another dead man."

"You could take Mr. Brice for me."

"Forget it. I've got a party to plan and I'm taking the week off to do it."

Pamila folds her arms and takes a deep breath. She does not appear to be reacting to the pain in any way. She looks like her ordinary self. "Camille?"

"What?"

She opens her eyes and looks at the roof of the car. Then she inhales deeply, as if ready to make an announcement. "I'm not a slut!" She clears her throat. "I'm not like Mariana and I'm certainly not like Zesty. My body's not a playground for dicks. I'm better than them. That's why I still have a job and those bitches don't. I'm nothing like them...so what happened today will never happen again."

Camille nods. "We're nothing like them. We need to remember that. That was the point of the promise. We faltered today, but we'll fix it. We won't ever again be quick to give up the goods." The car reaches a stoplight, giving her time to look at Pamila. "I haven't had sex in a long while, but I know what you're feeling right now. It'll get better tomorrow. Let's get you home."