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Chapter 1: Lupine tastes -By: Slip-Wolf-

The photos in Lyrise' paws had an eerily familiar texture to them. They reminded her of photos she

kept of her own in an oak box, far from the agency car that sped through the city with her in its back

seat.

Lyrise was thankful that this familiarity was just a sense memory, that these were not the same old

photos she'd gazed at hundreds of times. There were no smiling, trusting faces in pictures in her lap, nor

the ghosts of empty houses and whispered, broken promises that accompanied them. These photos before her

revealed lurid details of another life she was assigned to delve into. The risks these represented were

more immediate. That was fine.

These photos didn't bring her any pain.

"Is everything okay?" Barry asked, a coyote so slim he could almost slip through the Towncar's

seats. Lyrise just nodded, put the memories that came unbidden out of her mind and threw herself into her

work. She learned everything she needed to know about Commodities trader Donovan Filst in a scant few

seconds. The bio, long and exhaustive as it was, gave only hints which she skimmed through. The photos told

her much more.

In one, two female river otters coiled naked against one poster of his king-sized bed, black paws

exploring one another's white expanses while Filst sat ramrod straight on his leather couch, eyes

unfocused, finger wagging directions with disdain.

In another, the Wolf's gaze was diverted from the naked raccoon dancing round the pole near his

vast wet bar. Filst's assistant had his tie undone and was playfully spanking the grey rump. The surprise

in the raccoon's eyes held just a tinge of genuine fear. Filst's eyeline wasn't hard to follow, the spread

of his legs almost seemed to hurt.

Finally, a bright morning-after shot, long-lensed and low angle as Filst smoked on his balcony. His

blurry eyes smoldered with anger and the corners of his mouth were darkened by creases. The other

silhouette kept respectful distance. She lingered on that last image.

"Do you have everything you need?" Barry asked her.

"I have everything he does." Lyrise smiled thinly and perked her tall white ears, putting further

questions to rest. "Tell Sintel to wait for my call."

"Glad you're confident. As a quick reminder there are two objectives outside of feeling Filst out,

beg pardon for the pun. Plant the bug in his study. Then find out who he'll be meeting at Dulles

International on Wednesday. The second item is the most important."

"Would you find it funny if it was nothing more than his next play date?"

"Someone with his money has to get someone classy eventually." Barry didn't miss a beat as he

shrugged.

Lyrise adjusted a black shoulder strap and straightened the thin leather choker around her neck.

The satin dress had been Lyrise's choice, and Sintel had worked his magic. Like a well-heeled gentle-

canid, Barry had studied the cityscape out his window as she slipped into it and sampled the other basic

wares in her clutch purse, nothing they wouldn't expect. The bug was carefully secluded from everything

else, the one thing she had to keep from being found.

Lyrise blinked hard as she shook off the last creeping vestiges of the morphine cocktail coma

they'd pulled her out of back at the hospital. There was barely an itch from the knife wound she couldn't

remember. What mattered now was the appearance of being drugged. A chemical dependency was simply the wrong

kind of vulnerability to project. She applied a little eyeliner from the makeup kit she had with her and

studied herself in a compact mirror. She was ready.

They let her off on time. Barry wished her luck.

But Lyrise didn't go up.

She was late, deliberately so. That would give Filst the first thing he truly wanted that he could

never ask for, a chance to show some dominance up front, make himself more comfortable. In the lobby she

leaned against the counter and the dress crept up past her ample white haunch. The receptionist was a

trimly attired grey fox who tried to keep his eyes down.

"I'm expected." She smiled, touching her lower lip with her clutch purse. "Donovan Filst."

The Fox checked a log-book."Thirty second floor." he muttered. "Suite 3210."

Lyrise padded over to the elevator, feeling hungry eyes on her backside the whole way over. She

rode up alone, sampling smells that were overwhelmingly canine, smattered with a few other species here and

there. Canines of a certain social class tended to collect together in places like these, old speciest

traditions binding them together, high and distant. She'd been in enough carnivore-catered clubs to see the

distinctions in action, and she had learned to recognize the signs like territorial marks.

Dropping pressure from the unseen altitude made her flick her long ears and the elevator jaws

opened on a dimly lit floor that was noticeably chilled. Filst's door looked like all others, oak paneled

and brass numbered. Lyrise remembered the sensory memories fed to her back in the hospital from the node

they'd attached to her skull while unconscious. What role had the sense-collector played to get into

Filst's sanctum and see and smell all she now remembered? Cable repair, plumbing, another prostitute?

Sintel had quite a stable of convincing actors to gather what info he needed, though placing more permanent

ears on sight had obviously been a challenge. Lyrise remembered that the stairwell was another forty meters

further, her primary exit route if things went sour.

The suite had a buzzer and a camera, of course. Lyrise buzzed. The wolf who opened the door was

not him . "Hi." Lyrise said through a bubbly smile. "I'm here to see uh...Desmond Filst."

"Come in." The fit and trim grey lupine beckoned, a specimen not much larger than she was. He wore

a powder blue dress shirt and slacks that ended shortly past the knee.

He cleared his throat in the foyer. "I'll take your purse for just moment if you don't mind."

Lyrise handed it over with an eye roll, making sure to get in a good look at the younger wolf's outline

against the bone white wall behind him. He was the wolf with the snapping neck tie. And he was the

silhouette in the background in the last pic. She was sure of that.

"Are you Mr. Filst?" She made her once-over obvious. "I'm hoping you'll say yes."

The wolf had started a cursory inspection of her clutch. His ears dipped a bit when he responded

and Lyrise saw a bit of tail through his legs. "I'm not Mr. Filst. He's waiting for you." Without any

self-introduction he fingered her makeup kit aside and raised his eyebrows for the object at the purse's

bottom. Lyrise had dealt with enough filthy wealthy house-calls to be unsurprised at the intrusion into

her personal effects, having dealt with metal detection wands and careless gropes on some other calls. She

feigned annoyance anyway. "Is he the charming one?"

"He is." A paw indicated the living space ahead. Lyrise followed his direction and went in, past

the hum of a monitor watching the hall and a key pad for a pricey security system.

Memories from the neural node coalesced into the complete picture. The condo was open concept from

the kitchen through to the bedroom and study, low leather coaches, chiascuro artwork in mythical lupine

themes and abstract geological sculptures. A fireplace reflected off the glass coffee table. Filst kept a

clean apartment between adventures.

"You're late." The voice came the darkness of the kitchen. Under a pool of light on the slate

counter a dark grey paw gripped a scotch laden high-baller, white Armani shirt immaculate behind it. A

swath of dark hid the speaker's features save two reflective points of narrowed light.

"I'm so sorry. I had trouble with directions and got a bit lost." Lyrise smiled just hard enough

to be insincere. "Nice place you have here."

The highballer lifted, came back down empty. Filst left it there as he came around. "Your agency

told me seven-thirty. It's past eight. Do you just presume I have all night?" Donovan stepped from the

dark kitchen to the dim light of the living room. He had iron-grey tailored pants that ended right where

his thick legs bent and his white collar was open on a grey throat. His fur was so dark as to be almost

black leaving the tight lines of his shirt to reveal his physique, noticeably more muscular than the wolf

at the door with some thickness at the waistline from an undoubtedly rich diet.

Lyrise blinked, smelling supressed anger. She kept her composure despite her instinctual urge to

stay clear. "You mean we don't have all night?" She made herself sound disappointed, her voice quavering

just slightly.

The other wolf stifled a laugh and Filst glared at him "Relax Carter." He glared at Lyrise."You

think spackled-over charm will compensate for disrespect? Nothing compensates for that. Not here." He

spoke with cold pride, as though he were righting an injustice.

Her ears flew back as though bound and she hunched her head lower in submission. "I didn't mean to

be disrespectful. Really I didn't." Lyrise took a hesitant step forward and looked up at him, showing her

white throat as she did so. "I can make the wait worth it, I promise. In a lot of ways." She briefly

acknowledged her lapin urge to get clear, felt her pulse quicken at the proximity.

Filst gathered up the rabbit in his eyes and nostrils. She was defenseless, rich with the

unmistakable scent of fear. He grinned white needles and his ears perked as his eyes followed her alabaster

throat to the dark V of her low-cut dress. A claw scratched his muzzle as he rumbled. "Yes, I believe you

can."

Lyrise smiled, showing her rabbit's teeth as she let her training force the fear back down, slowly,

keeping just enough to draw the wolf to her. "I'm glad." She kept her ears and head back as her eyes went

to the bar. "How about a drink?"

Filst snickered, deciding to be amused with her. "Carter." The other wolf sauntered over to the

bar and produced three glasses and a mixer.

"If that's scotch I won't need soda." Lyrise said, and gazed back at at Filst, her gaze leveling

off and her lids drooping low. "What does my host need?"

"You were told."

"The agency told me, but they didn't tell me firmly enough. I want to hear it from the wolf I'm

serving." Lyrise drew her voice to a whisper. "Use words. Or otherwise, if you'd prefer."

Filst's tail twitched behind him, and he slowly lowered himself into the leather couch and spread

his arms high on its tanned banks. Carter put a drink into one of his paws. "Let's start with a little

music."

Carter moved to the stereo and put on something slow and percussive, a mix of EDM and tribal that

wordlessy teased of hot jungles and perspiration-slick surfaces.

"Dance for me." Filst said.

He didn't ask for her name, Lyrise noted as she turned her side towards him. He didn't care if she

was comfortable, seemed to revel in the opposite in fact. Much of what she assumed about him was proving

true.

Lyrise raised one arm, and then one left lifted from the fold of her black dress, its muscular

thigh curving towards her abdomen as she lowered herself on the other leg to the ground and gracefully

started a slow spin, switching one foot to the other seamlessly as its partner arced gracefully over the

wolf's head.

Her delicate scent, strengthened by released perspiration carried over to the two lupines, her trim

dress designed to dole out captured pheromones as it moved. Lyrise carefully unhitched the catch at her hip

that separated the dress from its tight underpinnings, releasing the skirt portion to free up her legs

completely and allow the dress to become a sort of cape that she used to teasingly hide and reveal herself

as the beat picked up and she began to use more space. She twirled for the bar, only briefly employing the

pole standing free at its end to swing around and come back. Her pace quickened with smooth dips and rises

and she took stock of her audience quickly with a dash of the cape across her cleavage. Carter looked

anxious, holding himself back from joining her, while Filst...

Filst looked hungry.

His legs were splayed and his thighs bunched as though he were ready to spring from the couch and

leap on her. His jaws worked open and shut. She saw the struggle of a hard-on creep up under his pants but

that was a secondary symptom of the fire within his eyes, something he was toying with, reveling in.

The song ended, and Lyrise came to a stop, her pulse racing despite herself. Her instincts were on

fire with the urge to stay clear of him. Nothing in the world could bury the cutting realization of what

Filst seemed to want right now.

Her knowledge saved her from losing self-control. She was sure; every single one of Filst's

visitors had been accounted for. Everyone of them left here, all frightened but none injured. Lyrise fought

her instinctual terror down, feeling control assert itself under her will. Civilization was more than just

a veneer, no matter how much this dog wanted to play to his ancient instincts. Filst gazed at her through

hooded eyes, whispering through wet jaws. "Take off your clothes." He instructed. "And slowly. Please."

Lyrise held back for a moment, finding resolve. It was time to test his sense of control, take him

out of his passive application of will, get him to face resistance.

Lyrise approached him with a slinking gait, as though she was still dancing to her own music. The

stink of fear was still trying to rise off her but she forced Filst's eyes to lock hers and forget what his

other senses told him. She stopped, her rabbit's toes nearly brushing his claws. "You take off my

clothes." She said. "And take as much time as you like."

His ears dipped, and then straightened. Behind him, Carter leaned forward, putting his hands on

the back of Filst's couch, nearly whining through his nose with an Omega's frustration at what he couldn't

touch. He was anxious to join in.

Filst took a sip of his drink, and then leaned over to place it on the end table. His teeth bared in a

smile and Lyrise met the slightest stench of roasted beef, thickened gravy, a scent that bit her nose but

reminded her that this wolf already had something in his stomach. It was rare that a client could make her

feel this way, getting so deep under her ancestral skin and she wasn't sure why. Some other scent, too low

to identify that she couldn't place, hovered around him.

Her fear was under control again and she wouldn't let it go of that. Filst stood, his nostrils

parting slightly as he drank her lapin scent in anew. He reached out and took her shoulders. The pads of

his paws were surprisingly rough for a banker's as he slipped his claws under the straps of her dress and

slipped them down. Slowly, with some care, he reached behind and found the clasps that held the dress low

on her white back. He undid one button, then another, then his claw scratched her back as he hurried the

third. "Sorry." Filst said flatly as she winced, a seemingly calculated move to keep her on edge.

The dress parted, and the bustier-like front of the dress fell away, exposing her bare breasts,

pink at the nipples, white as snow from neck to waist. As wolf paws trickled low, Lyrise' own paws rose to

the top button on his shirt. "Not yet." He barked sharply.

Lyrise paws slipped down his front instead and lifted away just short of his waist line. She

waited patiently as he undid the clasps at her waist and the remains of her satin dress fell to the floor,

leaving her in her natural defenseless glory. As much as the wolf's breath, rough paws and cold eyes

assaulted her sense of safety, Lyrise kept secure in the knowledge that she was no longer encumbered. In

her natural element, with nothing to weigh her down, she was faster if not stronger. Naked as she was, but

for the black leather choker about her neck, she could still maintain control. "Let me undress you now."

She said.

Filst igored her, and instead settled his nose in her neck, breathing deeply as though drawing the

purest mountain air. "You're not that afraid of me." He said. "That's interesting."

"I know what you really want."

"Oh I doubt you do." Filst sounded like he wanted to laugh, his nose and teeth at her throbbing

pulse point and Lyrise fought a fresh chill.

She reached down and drew the outline of his crotch, steering a rudder that was already entering the water. "Let me prove it."