FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This was never supposed to happen. I liked the one-time only story, but I came across a picture by kamui, "The Animal Ball" and felt I needed to do the following. Thank you kamui.

Moving anywhere is difficult. It is a huge decision that needs careful planning. The psychological and emotional ramifications of such a traumatic event are, well, traumatic. You have to pack up all of your memories, all of your belongings, and move to a new house, in a new town. Forgetting, or at least trying to forget, all those people and memories you leave behind. But for me it was easy. I came home and saw the u-Haul in our driveway, and took the hint when I saw "Matt" on boxes already inside the truck. Saved me the trouble of feeling nervous.

I began my new school on a Wednesday. My parents and I spoke at length about this, and we felt that it was best to begin mid-week, so that I can get accustomed to all of my classes before starting a fresh week. I was excited, nervous, and annoyed. I can't believe that school happens in Richmond too. I sort of expected that they would, but at the same time, I thought it was just something that bothered me in Manchester. I could discuss at length how terrified I was at attending another school; one out of my normal comfort zone, but such feelings and emotions are base and do not require any more explanation than that I acknowledge I have them. Any profound analysis of them only implies that the conversation has shifted toward you, and as self-centered as I am, I would not give you that opportunity to tell me what my life is about.

My parents, as much as I love them, disappoint me sometimes. "Honey," my mother said to me a few days ago, "why don't you get your head fur cut? You can take this an opportunity to begin school anew, with a new wardrobe and a new attitude, in an environment where kids won't know you, and won't tease you." She said it as politely as she could. I am gay, and my mother has come to terms with it better than my father has, but each strongly recommended I don't let on. It is a fair enough opinion, but brings up the question too soon after my tirade, ‘who are you to tell me what to do.' It angers me that they still want me to rethink my decision. Though, to their credit, I must admit, it is so tempting to just follow the crowd sometimes.

I attended the local private school in Manchester, Sort of the quintessential blue blazers with the crest of the school on the left breast, red and blue (but a different shade of blue that didn't quite match) tie and khakis. I did my best to fit in, to my credit, through some people just sort of stick out, as one might expect of any society in which everyone wears the same clothes. I will admit that I did suffer from a contrasting-blue colors problem, what with my blue collared shirt, the two un-matching different darker shades of blue that were my jacket and tie, and the handkerchief I kept in my back left pocket.

So as not to disinterest you with any other tangents, I was moving leaving all of my friend (my one singular friend) and about to challenge myself with ‘a new situation full of complications and potentially life changing decisions' or at least, that's what mom says. Naturally I reply, "whatever" almost indistinguishably under by breath and head up to my room where I forget the troubles of my tortured teenage soul by blasting some lame no-talent band's computer dubbed voice, singing the lyrics to a song, no doubt, stolen from a previous era, with random, yet ear-bleedingly loud guitar riffs. "It's relaxing." I tell my parents when they complain about the noise.

Wednesday Morning:

My alarm clock goes off at some horrid hour, seven, or something. Now I love being up early, and despite the fact that Richmond and Manchester share the same time zone, I would have to say that I was just in a terrible mood and unwilling to make it a good day.

Getting ready for school is exactly like it is for you. I will not bore you with the same details over and over. I must say, however, that I did spend extra attention in my tail, and used enough shampoo to annoy my parents. Consequently, I looked pretty good. I refrain from describing myself too minutely, for should you be in a similar situation, I would hope that some of my plight lends itself to you; that you could live vicariously through me in the good parts, and get annoyed with me for striking too close a chord with your dismal existence during the bad.

Anyway, school... it sucks. It ended somehow. But somehow or another, I was forced to take a junior level class despite my senior status because of the public v. private school curriculum in history. I rather liked history and I figured that the only friends I might make would be in that class. It was just my luck that I would be making friends with those not in my grade. Also, biology with Mrs. Mango (I cannot comment on her name, though she is very nice), suggested I get a tutor; an otter by the name of Dan. The obligatory kiss-up A+ student, but friendly enough. Plus, with his short height, (and frankly everyone's short statue, maybe something about Richmond...), I didn't mind being around him. I at least knew his name and could call him if I was bleeding and he might have remembered who I was. He gave me some notes in his completely illegible handwriting, and said I should look up to chapter 4. I will. I did. Then I went back and realized I didn't remember anything at all. A resting of my eyes between chapter 3 and 4 became my sleep for the night. Alas.

Thursday morning, the sun was shining. I was not in a particularly good mood, but I was by no means disappointed about going to school today.

At exactly twelve o'clock the bell sounded. Immediately the halls were flooded with furs heading to the cafeteria or to class. I walked from Economics to my locker, conveniently in the same hallway, to drop off my books and pick up my lunch. As un-cool as it made me look, I was not going to pay the exorbitant prices of the cafeteria for cold pizza. I turned the corner to the commons, down the carpeted ramp, and to the second table on the right, as I did yesterday with Dan. Dan was there, along with all the other furs, in the exact same seats; Greg facing the east, James to the west, and Dan on his left, and Kelly to the right. There was a single seat left unoccupied. It made me feel a little happy that there was still room for me, as I didn't know anyone yet, and was too shy to introduce myself and just sit down with them. Dan and his friends were all very nice, and Dan was my only tie to the school population. I motioned to them and gestured if they minded if I sat down in the vacant seat against the wall.

"Hey, Matt. Pull up a seat." It didn't matter who said it, (it was almost undistinguishable anyway, as it was said with a mouthful of food), but nevertheless made me happy to be accepted.

"Thanks so much. It is so nice of you guys to keep a seat for me." I said. An awkward glance flashed around the table, and I suddenly realized that the seat was vacant for someone else. Thoroughly embarrassed, I began to say something, but my embarrassed expression said it for me.

"You are more than welcome to sit there, Matt. It is just that that particular seat is Alex's."

"Oh, well, I'll move. I don't want to take his seat."

"He isn't here today." Dan said nonchalantly.

James interrupted with a goodhearted, but nevertheless derogatory comment, "Yeah, he is still in England with his boyfriend."

My interest had suddenly been sparked. In the brief interlude of chuckles from all at the table, I admired the view from Alex's seat, wondering what Alex was like. He definitely chose the best seat at the table. He probably had some leverage over the others. I was the only gay at my old school; I would thoroughly like to meet someone who shared in my particular interests.

Greg took the spotlight, and I assume in an attempt to mimic Alex, stood up very straight, elegantly brushed his hear to the side, raised his nose, placed his hands effeminately against his thighs, and said elegantly, while spinning his little stub of a tail in a rapid circular motion, "Now, now, now, dear James. Lest you forget, I am not gay." This action merited laughter from everyone.

I hoped that by stealing a questioned glance at the more reserved Kelly, she would fill me in on what was going on. "Aww," she began in a rather loud voice that I was not expecting, drawing attention to my puzzled countenance. "Matt has no idea what is going on! Gre-I mean, Alex, introduce yourself. This is Matt."

"Well hello there!" Greg began as pompously as he could, reminiscent of Uncle Monty, still being Alex. "Matt, is it? I am exceedingly charmed at making your acquaintance." Laughter was heard as Greg stuck out his hand, palm up, as though he wanted to shake my hand. I offered, still confused by playing into the scenario. "You have lovely hands, Matt." Obviously awkward, I made motion to pull my hand back, but Greg brought our clasped hands to his lips. A very light kiss was felt upon my hand as I was able to pull it away. I blushed, noticeably, but it went unnoticed as everyone, including Greg, burst into laughter. Greg sat down heavily, returning back to himself as ‘Greg.'

"Interesting." It was all I could say, and frankly, all that could be expected of me to say. Lunch was not long enough to try to interpret this bizarre half-meeting with Alex, so I brushed off the conversation, only to revisit it the remainder of the school day. In lieu of doing schoolwork, mind you.

The singular time I managed to have Alex break from my mind was in a chance meeting with Dan, in which he asked, "What are you doing after school today?"

I stand by the fact that I was and am very polite, even if in writing it seems crasser. My voice is low and soothing, I would like to believe, but I am very quiet, and make it a point of preference not to speak unless spoken to or without any definite purpose. I would never think of imposing myself on anyone, but I could tell that with Dan I could be a little dominant, not sexually of course (although I definitely could be...) but not with Dan."Nothing. Why?"

"Mango paired me as your tutor in Biology. Just for the time being, to catch you up on what we have been doing. I am busy tomorrow, but I am free tonight. Do you have any plans?"

I didn't. So I said "No. That would be lovely, and thank you."

His house was easy enough to find. I made it there after dinner, making sure not to do anything special in terms of my appearance. I got there, his parents and I exchanged pleasantries, his sister whispered to Dan either "He is cute" or something of a similar interpretation. I was flattered.

We went downstairs to the family room, beautifully decorated, though not by mom or dad, but obviously their interior decorator. I would bet a lot of money on that assumption if it came down to it.

"Hey, Dan. Do you mind if I ask you a question about something?" my voice was shaky. I had wanted to ask this question right from the beginning, but I felt that it would have been impolite to ignore everything Dan was saying about biology.

"No, not at all. That is why I am here. I am your tutor, remember?" He seemed un-phased, still looking over his notes for more sample questions.

"It isn't about Biology." My voice was quiet, solemn. I wished it wasn't, for Dan picked up on my change in attitude, and looked up from his reading. "Remember at lunch? When you talked about, what was his name...?" I knew damn well it was Alex. I had been saying it over and over in my mind, writing it in my very best cursive over and over in my notebook. But I didn't wasn't to make it too obvious that I was interested. "That kid whose seat I was sitting in who went to England..."

"Alex? Yeah, what about him?" Dan said. You could pick up that he was interested, particularly to see if I was interested.

"It is normal in your school for kids to go to on vacation together? At my old school, we never had that happen." I quickly threw in "That is so cool." to put the subject more on the trip than the fur.

"Not at all." Dan began. He seemed to realize that I was done with studying, and closed his book and leaned back against the couch. "Alex is, different."

"Gay." I said, more as a statement than as question.

"Eh, I am not really sure. Alex and I are very good friends. We have been for years." Dan stood up and walked over to his bookcase while continuing. "But Freshman year, Alex met Nate." The way he said Nate seemed to indicate that Dan did not like Nate. Whether it was because Dan liked Alex himself, or because he just didn't like Nate, I can't be sure. But there was something there. Dan walked back with a yearbook, flipping through pages to his class last year. He handed me the book and continued with his story. "This is Nate." I looked. Handsome. I gave him inward approval. He was a wolf or a husky or a mix of the two. His head fur was a little longer than normal. His coat was long as well, grey, nondescript, but nice. A little patch of white stuck out from his unbuttoned collar. He was wearing a tie, but even in the black and white picture, you could tell that it didn't match and was put on sloppily. He looked genuinely happy with his green eyes shining, and his exceptionally long teeth forming a carefree smile. I could understand why Alex liked him. He was handsome, a sort of ‘naughty sophistication' about him, maybe even a bit rugged. "Yeah, so Alex and Nate decided to go to England for Spring Break. Alex told me that they were traveling from London to Scotland, and back down again in a circle."

"Wow. I wish my family could take me on a trip like that."

"Yeah, but they are by themselves. The decided together that they should go, and they left two weeks ago to do God knows, what whenever they want." I smiled to myself. I knew what I would do if I could get two weeks with my boyfriend over spring break without parents... "There is actually a pool going around that Alex won't come back alive." He laughed. Alex is too prim and proper to spend this much time with Nate. Nate is a corruptive influence. He is going to ruin Alex. I couldn't help but think that Dan sounded a little disappointed at Nate monopolizing Alex. But Dan didn't seem like the fur to do anything about it. So he let it pass.

All the meanwhile I flipped through the yearbook. There were a few named Alex, and I hadn't heard a last name. On the inside front cover, though, I eyed a very elegantly written D, similar to my own. I read the message,

Dearest Daniel,

You truly are my closest friend. You have a simple and beautiful nature. There is something in your face that makes me trust you implicitly. All the candor of youth is there, as well as all youth's passionate purity. Wherever you go, you charm the world.

I am and remain your humble servant, accomplice, and friend,

Alexander S.

Elegantly written, and the in most beautiful script I have ever seen, he signed his name. I was getting excited to see his picture. For two reasons; firstly because it is such an elegant and formal letter, juxtaposed with other entries "Have a good summer...See you next year" and the like. And secondly, because Alex hadn't thought of that letter himself; it happened to be written by Oscar Wilde in The Picture of Dorian Gray. The author and title are of my favorites, for obvious reasons, but for Alex to have memorized that, he must be gay. I turned back to the section Dan had showed me Nate, and looked down the columns of ‘S' last names. Sure enough there was an Alexander S. I moved my finger across the rows to the fourth picture and stopped. My finger slid from the page slowly as I subsequently rose to book up to my eyes. There he was; Alexander. Incredible. To start with, he was a fox. I am partial to foxes, being one myself. Red, I assumed, though it was in black and white, but of the most bright white. He had a long face, a little more angular than the other furs, but sat posed for the portrait so confident in a tie and vest, matching meticulously. He had shining grey eyes, not any more beautiful than anyone else's, and certainly not more shining than Nate's, but there was something in those eyes that portrayed some sort of underlying confidence. Some sort of pride or power, that couldn't be contained. He was beautiful. But what I noticed the most was his smile. It was small. You could tell that he was reserved about smiling too widely, or looking overly happy. He looked so confident, so poised.

Beneath his portrait was the list of junior activities. He was a runner, as it turned out. And a pretty good one it seemed. Three years varsity Cross Country and three years varsity Track. I deduced that he would have made varsity his senior year as well. I looked up, lost in thought to see Dan smiling at me. "You're a fag aren't you?" My hesitation in hearing the question and not responding immediately in the negative only indicated that I was.

"Maybe I should go." I said as I placed the open book at my side and stood up. "It is getting late anyway."

"He gets home tonight. He will probably be in school tomorrow. I honestly don't know what he would say if you approached him. Probably, ‘I'm flattered, but...' and I don't think his is looking for a boyfriend, even if he is gay."

"Then, Nate is not his boyfriend?" I questioned.

"I don't know. But he would probably not like you approaching him and questioning him about it."

"If I can ask one more thing, is he worth it, in your opinion?" This was targeted at Dan's affection towards Alex. He had made me a little uncomfortable. I knew Dan would say yes, and when he did, I hoped it would humble him a little and remind him not to call people gay so quickly when one could turn the tables so easily.

"Whoever he dates should consider themselves very lucky. Alex is a good person. And a great friend. It would only make logical sense that he would be a wonderful boyfriend." He quieted, recognizing the powerful and flattering words he just said about his best friend. I felt bad for a second, having intentionally put Dan in that uncomfortable position. "If I was..." he was going to say gay, "you, I would." He straightened his back, but hung his neck low, he clasped his hands and looked up to catch me glancing at him.

"Well, umm, thanks," I almost whispered. I headed towards the door again, but stopped. I looked over my shoulder at Dan sitting there, quiet. As I walked over, he sat unphased, just watching my figure come close to him. I ran my right hand through his short hair, just once, pushing it behind his left ear. "I am sorry." And I left.

Friday morning. I was excited. I woke up at six-ish. I wanted to look my best if Alex was to be in school today. I couldn't keep a smile off of my face. I managed to make it downstairs without too much noise; I only slipped twice on the stairs. "You are looking very beautiful today, love." My mother said affectionately. "You seem flustered, though."

"I just want to get to school early. I guess I am not totally awake yet."

I had made up an excuse the previous night to chat online with James about finding a history tutor, knowing that ‘Alex' was the name he would first respond. "Alex" he responded, much to my delight. "He gets to school at 6:50. He likes being early for first bell at 8:05." Meanwhile, I am drooling. An hour and fifteen minutes early, before school. All alone. My thoughts were racing. In all probability I would just say ‘hello' and be on my way, but the thought of us together for that long was exciting. Not that anything would happen. But if it did, oh, if it did.

Somehow or another I got to school. The sun still hung low in the sky, and the dew clung to the grass. But as I approached the commons from outside, I saw a very tall, very thin figure sit down at the second table with his back to the window. It could be just a coincidence, though. I looked at my watch, 6:51. If it weren't for the four foot long fox tail, very elegantly brushed, and I could tell was elegantly brushed from my distance away, I knew it was Alex.

I walked up the hill towards the common doors, and opened the right door slowly. Wind blew in, causing Alex to look up from his book. I don't know what it was, but it was something old and leather bound. It probably smelled good.

I apologetically turned to close the door, and turned, delighted to have Alex's gaze fixed on me.

"You must be Alex." I said quietly, but with elegance and reverence, which I knew he would appreciate.

He sat up straight, closed his book using one of those fancy ribbons, laid it flat on the table, and proceeded to stand up. All this he did soundlessly, quickly, and fashionably. He wore dark blue jeans, tight, but not overly revealing, a freshly laundered and starched white shirt, a tight black tie, and a red V-neck long sleeved sweater. In the second it took him to stand, I managed to internalize everything about his appearance. He looked older than his photo last year. And stronger. Yet, he was still lithe, only 140 pounds. But at six foot four, he was lanky and angular. But his movements were heavenly. His countenance, just as confident.

"Yes. My name is Alex. Matt, I presume?" I nodded without wondering how he knew my name. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." He bowed slightly. Greg's impersonation suddenly became amusing to me. "Here for history help, I assume? James mentioned to me that you might be stopping by."

"Um, yeah. I just transferred here and my guidance councilor recommended a tutor until I get settled."

"Well, let's see. You are a senior, so you are taking European History?"

"AP World. I took Euro last year, but I missed out on World." I figured he would appreciate the Advanced Proficient title.

"I loved that class." His eyes moved for a second as though we were reliving the experience. He broke his memory to look down and grab his briefcase. He was in high school and he carried a leather briefcase.

"Laughing at my case?"

"Not at all. If I had known that kids here carried them, I would bring mine in as well." I hoped to score some quick points by mentioning that I had my own leather case from my private school days, as well as complementing him as a representative for the school.

Laughing, he said, "Well, no, actually. I am the only one, incidentally, that carries a fag-bag." I perked up attentively. He may have noticed, I don't know. He continued, either way. "But I like it." I was certain now that he had noticed. Was this his way of subtlety questioning my own sexuality though my interest to his words? Was he hitting on me? "It has all the things I need in it. Except a World History textbook." He said after rummaging around inside. "We will have to take a trip to my locker. Care to join me?"

"With pleasure." He looked as if I was teasing him with my formality, but quickly changed his mind, possibly imagining that I actually was at a higher level of sophistication than he was used to, or that maybe I had acknowledged our subtle conversation. I got the feeling that Alex was one of those kids who read up on the psychology of every intricate detail and evaluated people's personality based on their responses.

"You must forgive me," Alex said as he strode up the ramp leading from the commons to the 200 wing lockers. "I am a little jetlagged and a bit disheveled." I looked attentively, with a smile across my face. His voice was low, and soothing.

"England."

"Yes. I presume that you spoke with my merry band of cohorts? I can only imagine what they said about me." He looked fatigued, for the first time. As though he didn't like what he assumed was said about him in his absence. "I can only imagine the scandal that will circulate."

"Is there a scandal we should know about?"

"Matt, one never kisses and tells."

"Alex, I think you just did." He turned his neck and smiled. He looked at me for the first time analytically. He looked straight again and continued walking. As if to show off how carefully he looked at me, he commented, "You have very nice hands." After Greg's comment, I had the feeling that Alex would look at my hands. I had scrubbed them, trimmed and sharpened my claws, and I even put a clear coat of varnish on them.

Without even turning or sounding surprised, I replied "Thank you," careful not to make eye contact with him. If we were going to have a battle of wits, I was not going to lose so quickly.

Alex smiled. He knew what he was up against. "Well here we are. This is Bill, or rather, locker B111. He was careful not to hide his locker combination. He opened his locker. It was very neat. Everything in its designated place, though I was a little suspicious about the eight history textbooks. He turned and smiled. "I...collect...history textbooks that people leave lying around." He reached for the World book, but in mid grasp, he stopped, and looked at me straight in the eyes. "You do very well in history, don't you? What do you need a tutor for?"

"I do it more for the tutor than the subject." In retrospect, I would have thought that that took a lot of courage to say, but in the moment, it flowed freely.

"Am I blushing?"

"Yes."

"Good. In lieu of studying, what would you like to do, go to the theatre?"

It was a test. "Oh no! I loathe listening."

"Well, let us go to the Club?"

"Oh, no! I hate talking"

"Well, we might trot round to the Empire at ten?"

"Oh, no! I can't bear looking at things. It is so silly.

"Well, Jack, what shall we do?"

"Nothing, Algy." We paused. We just experienced an English professor's dream come true; a continuous quotation from The Importance of Being Earnest. Neither of us wanted to make the first move. We stood still captivated by each other. If there was any doubt in Alex being interested in me, there wasn't anymore (without sounding haughty, or anything).

"Matt. What does a strapping young lad like yourself do a Friday night such as this?"

"Depending upon the company, I would do just about anything." Trying to be subtle works for some people, like Alex. It doesn't usually work well for me.

"Ah, splendid! Incidentally, I have two tickets for the theatre tonight, or rather, after I call the ticket office I will. Care to join me?"

This was getting too good. I had a date for tonight with a very charming and very attractive fox that seemed to have an interest in me. I was racking my brain with all sort of witty comments, but the best I could come up with was. "How shall I dress?"

"It is probably best if you wear dress whites. Is that a problem?"

"I should be able to fashion something."

"Nonsense! I will have nothing of the kind. What do you have first period?"

"History." I replied

"Good. Because after first period ends, we will go to the mall. It would be a shame to miss history."

"I have more than just one period." Sounding slightly saddened at turning down such an offer.

"I will worry about those other classes." he said as he scribbled something on a pad. "You still have 45 minutes until school starts. Run along and go socialize or something. I'll meet you after first."

With that he walked away. I should like to take this opportunity to describe in length the beauty of his walk, his tail, and his ass. Working up from the bottom, his strides were monstrous, though it was nothing for him. He seemed to glide, and if it were not for his pointy, black leather, heeled boots, (which I suddenly wanted a pair of) echoing very loudly, he probably would have. His four foot tail, which I described as beautiful from far away was even more spectacular up close. I would think that he would oppose it's length, on the basis that it might drag on the ground. And it would, if it ever stood still. Perpetually in motion, the gentle sweeping back and forth from his tail is hypnotizing. His walk in general seemed to accentuate his ass, whether he intended on it or not. Secretly, I hoped he was doing it for my sake, but either way, it was hard to peel my eyes away from.

Alex had turned the corner, out of sight, but not out of mind. I took his seat, and picked up his book. A Rebours. Not surprising. And inside, well, he had obviously read it before. Kids passed in larger numbers every few minutes. And before I knew it, the quiet solace I once knew was lost in shouting and laughing and cursing, especially when kids remembered their unfinished homework.

First period was intolerable. So I will skip over it. The bell rang, but of course, Mr. Schwartz wanted to discuss something with me. I remember it being something positive, but I was anxious to get going.

I jetted from the door, making a hard right as I heard my name called from behind me. Leaning against the wall as Mr. Marlborough did with the one boot against the wall, Alex was holding my jacket and a manila folder.

"Here is your homework, your jacket, and your dismissal pass. Your French was easy. I dislike math so I left that for you, and I had Dan check over and fix the mistakes that you made on your bio homework. Impressed?" Without even questioning how he managed to do this, I furrowed my brow and lips in question. "We need to work on your impressed face. This one is rather, ummm, bad."

"Should I even question the legitimacy any of this?"

"I certainly would. Who on earth would do this for you."

"The very attractive fox standing in front of me."

"I am blushing again. It is unseemly to blush in public. We are running late anyway." Alex took a step towards the main hallway, when he stopped and shrunk. A wolf or husky or a mix of the two turned the corner heading in our direction. I recognized him as Nate. I recognized Alex recognizing him as Nate as well. Nate looked better than his picture also. His shirt was much tighter, his pants much more revealing, and his head fur much longer. He kind of looked like he was a shampoo model who went on strike. Ah, the potential healing powers of a bath.

Alex made it not too obvious as he walked past Nate quiet, only a quiet "Hi, Nate" as he concentrated on anything other than Nate.

Nate grunted an acknowledgement back, not mean or anything, but I got the feeling that Nate was popular, and Alex wasn't. Their friendship must have been something of an anomaly.

"So, how awkward was that?" Alex said as we rounded the corner to the hallway towards the parking lot.

"I figure I will find out eventually. What was that about?" I had a feeling that this and something to do with England. I was curious. And until that moment, I had forgotten about Nate.

"Nate and I went to England, as you know." He began wistfully. "I rather.." I was hanging on the tense of Alex's next word, "liked Nate. But he didn't seem to feel the same way." It was weird to see how Alex's composure changed from this morning to just now because of sight of Nate. To be perfectly honest, I questioned whether it was even worth it to continue my bizarre, unfounded affection towards Alex. "I thought that the trip would be a fun relaxing time in which I could tell Nate about how much I did like him. And how I wanted to be with him. But he seemed to think that it would be more fun to go drinking every night and choose everything we did himself. Which was fine, but he was rather abrasive towards me when I could get a word in, and seemed embarrassed or ashamed of me whenever we went somewhere after that. As if we didn't have a history."

We had reached Alex's car, which I will describe in detail later. He proceeded to drive to the mall while continuing his story. "Anyway, the short of it is, Nate must have assumed my intentions and must have been uncomfortable so he fended me off through negativity."

"Wow. That was intense." Feeling eager to stop this depressing saga.

"Yeah, I feel as though if I recorded that, I could play it in the background of a cheesy coming put movie or something." He shrugged off his gloom with this joke, and resumed his confident countenance that he had earlier this morning.

"You know, it might not be such a good idea to go to the theatre tonight, what with you just having come back and all..." I couldn't help but sound saddened. Alex's story really made me introspective on entering a relationship with many loose ends.

"Well that would really make me think my life is depressing enough to merit movie rights. I am rather looking forward to tonight. It would be a shame to go by myself...and have an empty seat beside me...and no one to talk to..." He was smiling again. How could I help but smile back?

"Well, if you are still up to it."

"I've already picked out my suit to have pressed."

"It would be a shame to stick a freshly ironed suit in the closet..."

"Better to take it out and have a good time." I may have unintentionally begun round two of our subtle conversation. I decided to leave it at that.

Alex drove a Rolls Royce. Before this sounds improbable or ridiculous, I will mention that it wasn't the million dollar car you imagine. It was a piece of crap. ‘It looked better on eBay' he said to me when we approached it. An amateur mechanic and body man, Alex told me of his plan to revive it.

"Remember in GoldenEye when Bond meets that CIA guy in St. Petersburg, and he says ‘She's a bitch, but she gets you there' about his car?" I responded with a head nod. I rather liked James Bond. "Yeah, well, Victoria (his name for the Rolls) is just a bitch." I laughed. For the first time, Alex had cursed and broken character as a prim gentleman.

We drove faster than was probably necessary, but from the sound of the engine, going slower might anger it. I noticed many things about Alex from the way he drove. One, he was beautiful, two he had a wonderful sense of control about the car, and I wonder how good he would have been had he been driving a car that was fitting for his character. A Morgan or a Panther DeVille or something. He may have needed glasses, I couldn't be sure. He seemed to be anxious at signs, but I attributed this to whether the car would be able to stop or turn in time.

"And here we are. The mall."

"I am a big fan of shopping, actually."

"I am a big fan of spending money. Here we are. Hoardes of Seville Rowe...In Richmond."

"You mean a tux shop. When did we suddenly become British?"

"Two weeks ago. Now come along." He parked the car and it died halfway between two parking spots. He pulled out a fake parking ticket and stuck it on his windshield. As he tried hard not to laugh. We headed towards the mall, side by side, talking about something inconsequential, I can't even remember.

Somehow, we managed to get lost, neither of us were actually paying attention which may have something to do with it, but we didn't enter the tailor's office until eleven.

Now I was gay. And Alex was gay. But the guy at the front desk was a raving homosexual. He eyed us walking into the store; looking happy. So naturally, within half a second he was next to us asking what we wanted in his best queer voice.

"Kind sir, I would like to purchase a white tuxedo for my beau here. One of your highest quality. I want everyone; you, that guy over there, the guy that sweeps up at night, to admire this suit. And I need it like, five minutes ago. That'd be great. Thanks." He spoke quickly, charmingly, and affectionately. He was teasing the salesman, and I was doing my best not to break character. He ended his speech with a quick smile in which he flashed every one of his sharp white teeth.

"Well" the salesman said in his best accent "how do you feel about looking fabulous in white?"

I was up. Stay calm and cool. Go with the flow... "I think white suits me well rather well, wouldn't you agree?" I put some kind of suggestiveness to the ‘wouldn't you agree' and smiled coyly.

"Honey, you have no idea!" He turned, and very obviously shook his ass as he walked, his striped tail swishing effeminately. We turned in his absence and smiled loudly at each other. Chad, as cliché as that sounded, and yes that was his real name, returned with several flamboyant white suits, none of which seemed to strike me well at all. And I was beginning to worry about prices. These were not cheap suits. Alex reassured me that we would get one inexpensive, as mom and dad would probably agree to me buying something formal anyway.

"Sir, we were thinking of something a little more reserved and sophisticated than this..." as Alex held up a white mesh tuxedo shirt, one of the ones you go to bachelorette parties in as a stripper.

"Ahh, yes," he said, covering up a smile. "Of course. Maybe you would like to follow me." Chad led the way into the back room, which was nothing more than a huge closet of individually wrapped suits. Hundreds of black ones, but comparatively few white ones. I kind of wandered aimlessly towards one of the white ones. White probably wouldn't have been my first choice, but upon thinking, I might look better in white. Worth a try anyway.

"First suit you eye is usually the one," Chad said as he brushed past me, careful to tough my back and drag his fingers across. "How do you like it?" I loved it. It was beautiful, perfect. High lapels, single breasted, three-buttoned. I opted for a bowtie over a tie. Alex informed me that he himself wore a cravat.

"Now," Chad said a little too eager, "let's get you undressed...and into this suit," the latter added with less enthusiasm than the former. "Would you like any help?"

"Thank you kindly, but I am afraid he might get a bit jealous" referencing Alex, who suddenly seemed surprised that I had switched roles with him and made him the jealous one.

Chad left, unhappily, but still grinning widely at our teasing him. He closed the door behind him and left Alex and I alone. Especially after that conversation, I was a bit embarrassed, or rather, excited if you understand anatomically.

"Wow, Alex, I had no idea you and Chad were so close." To be perfectly honest, I was shocked by Alex's inappropriateness with this whole affair. "I am really uncomfortable now."

Alex walked over, grinning, and brought my suit over. Chad had handed it off to Alex as he left. Across the tag was written ‘Half price.' "When you are nice to people, people are nice to you." He smiled widely again. "Can I take your clothes?"

"Why, Alex. On the first date? Isn't that a bit tacky?" I played with him. It was very polite of him to offer, and very hot of him as well. I bashfully stripped to my boxers, red obligatorily, and turned from him, lest he should see anything more than I should want him to.

"Matt! This is the third time you have caused me to blush today." I turned to face him puzzled. He pointed over my shoulder to a full length mirror. I turned. Looked at myself. Looked at Alex looking at myself. More of myself than I would have wanted to see right now. And then turned my head again and threw him an embarrassed but devilish smile. I trotted off the corner of the room to dress. Alex allowed me my privacy and looked at other tuxes hanging.

If it sounds too cheesy to sound believable, I will admit that the cuffs were too long, but the suit fit perfectly. And incidentally Alex liked the long cuffs.

So, as we walked from the back room, Chad looked up, smiling, "That was fast."

"What do you mean?" Alex questioned. "We were only trying on a suit." He smiled. So did I. So did Chad.

"Right." Chad said. "Will there be anything else I can do for you."

"Not today, though the service was so pleasant, we may come back sometime soon." I smiled bashfully.

We walked away from the store with the tuxedo, at an amazing 75 percent off, a free bowtie, free cufflinks, and Chad's phone number. We dropped off the parcel in the back seat, and got in the car. We laughed.

Upon arriving home, my mother was there. She questioned who dropped me off in a Rolls Royce.

"Alex." I said almost dreamily. We had a very nice conversation in the car on the way home. We asked others at traffic lights for Grey Poupon, and ended up pulling into a McDonalds Drive through for lunch, much to the confusion of the window attendant.

"Okay. What's that?" She motioned pointing to my very large parcel.

"My new tuxedo." I was excited to wear it tonight.

"Ugh, why do you need a tuxedo?"

"I am going to the theatre tonight."

"I'm sorry, can we start over?" she asked, legitimately confused.

"I made a new friend, Alex. That was him in the Rolls. We went tuxedo shopping because he invited me to the theatre tonight. Oh, um, can I go with him? I already told him I could."

Speechless, my mother nodded yes, which was good enough for me, but she said "We need to approach your father about this. Is Alex your boyfriend, or are you just big weirdos." She means well, but when she tried to speak as a kid my age, it made me cringe.

"I am not sure, actually." I really hadn't approached the subject of dating with Alex. Maybe it was already implied? I am not sure. "He is nice though..."

"Yeah, I'll bet he is" she said judgmentally. "I don't like the idea of you dating someone we haven't met."

"Personally," bellowed my father as he once again proved almost comic in timing, "Personally, I thought when we moved here you wouldn't be dating boys."

"But I've already said yes! And it is not really even a date." I said in hysterics.

"When is this appointment then?"

"Tonight at seven. He is picking me up. Please dad..." He was pissed. Like, really pissed.

"You get your one date, you little faggot" each time he was especially pissed with me he would call me that, "but I will kill you and him if I find out that you let him fuck you." It angered me to think that my own father thought that because I was gay I was obligated, or rather, needed to have sex with every guy I associated with.

My mother was especially serious. Either she hadn't considered this possibility, or she was saddened at suddenly considering this possibility. Just to keep from tearing, she added over my father, "Please, Matt. At least introduce us to him."

"Sure." I said, hoping that my response, in the affirmative, would reassure her that I did have good taste in character. She knew that.

I got ready, which took hours.

The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway. Seven. I was awaiting nervously upstairs. I was wearing my white tuxedo. I must confess, I looked damn good. The black tie, cumber-bund, and shoes (I had spats too), accentuated my white and really gave me an air of sophistication. I was admiring my tail in the mirror when the doorbell rang. I didn't even bother alerting Alex of his impending meeting with my parents, he would be quite perfect anyway.

Up until this time, my parents were hysterical. My father was yelling, my mother, yelling to tell him not to yell. He would get mad at her, and she would tell him to redirect his anger at me, but if he yelled up to me, she would tell him not to do that either.

I made it to the door and opened it to see Alex in the twilight. It was misting slightly. He was wearing a white suit as well. All white. White shoes, white cravat, white hat. His suit looked older than mine, not in age, but in style, maybe Victorian? It was slightly tighter than mine, double breasted, but elegant, in a completely different way than mine was. Alex wore a high, straight collar, and the promised cravat. All of this, was concealed to me until he took off his black overcoat.

I could feel my mom looking into the hallway from the kitchen, and I called to her without even looking back, just knowing she was there, to meet Alex.

"Hello, Alex, very nice to meet you." She rushed at him suspicious of his beauty, of the stories I recounted, of the aura he emanated. She seemed a little too eager to touch him. He tensed a little.

"Pleased to meet you as well."

Wont you come in and take your coat and hat off?"

"Thank you. You have a lovely home."

This was kind of awkward for me. And, was my mother wearing pearls? Could maybe she want to charm Alex on my behalf? "Mom, you are embarrassing me." I said in a whiney voice, more out of cliché than anything else. Then the obligatory; she stood on her toes, (she was wearing fancy heels too) and kissed Alex on the cheek.

"Aww, you are so handsome!"

Alex blushed as he telepathically sent ‘fourth time' to me. I acknowledged.

"I think we should be" my mother began...

"Leaving. What a good idea!" I said thoroughly embarrassed at my mother kissing Alex.

"Hold on there, Otter" making the movie reference rather than confusing my species, "I have a gift, and I still haven't met your father." Mom got excited at the word gift. She got unexcited at the word father. Alex was braver and more confident than I thought. "This is for you." As he pulled out a bottle of claret.

"That is so thoughtful of you! Awww, 1987, that was the year we were married!" she got very excited and very happy. "Bill, come here and introduce yourself! Come meet Alex!"

I threw Alex a quick stare and gritted my teeth nervously, to which my mother chastised me.

The pocket doors of the study opened, as if dad was eavesdropping or spying on the conversation, and out walked my father. I had noticed that he too was dressed more formally than the wife-beater and sweats he would normally be wearing this time at night. You could tell he tried not to look at Alex, but he was hard to miss. His height and his suit didn't blend into our home decor, and the nervous swishing of his tail drew added attention. "You must be Alex. Hello. You look very nice. Whatcha got there, Clair?" his sentences were curt, not at all said disdainfully, though they seemed shallow.

"Wine. Alex brought it as a present. Isn't that nice dear?" she said the latter part of the statement more fiercely.

"May I?" He took the bottle and looked at the label. I knew my father had no idea what he was looking for, or at, but he looked anyway. "Hmm, '87. Remember my '87 Corvette? Piece of crap." Mom looked fake angry, but dad caught himself, knowing full well the significance of that date. "Yes, dear. I know, I know."

Alex broke the uncomfortable silence between my parents who were looking all lovey-dovey. "Matt had mentioned that year, and I scoured several stores looking for an appropriate gift." This was not at all true. How he managed to know the year of my parents' wedding is unbeknownst to me, whether he just got lucky, I don't know. However, Alex was one of those furs who would just happen to know those types of things.

"Well, Alex, that is very thoughtful of you." My mom leaned in for another peck at Alex's cheek. I got the feeling that my father, who was still looming in the background, thought it was a little weird how mom was getting all affectionate over Alex.

My dad must have been thinking this whole time how to phrase this thought appropriately despite its potential awkwardness, and ended up saying, "Well, we don't want to keep you." He hesitated, but threw in for good measure, "Have a ... nice time."

Eager to end this huge awkwardness, we were still crowded in the foyer, next to the door, I opened it, and called out "Bye, mom, dad. See you later." We were only inside for a few minutes, but it got much darker out. The streetlamps were lit, and the misting had subsided. At the end of the front walk was a beautiful old, black Cadillac. Presumably Alex's. I tried not to make a big deal of it, but I knew if my dad saw it, he would have the hood up in a second and start touching things.

"Is that your car?" My mother asked, peering out. My dad suddenly became interested and turned around to look out the door as well. He tried hard not to be impressed.

"My dad owns a limousine service. When he is in a good mood, I sometime have the privilege of driving the cars." I did not know this about Alex's father. Actually, I had not asked about Alex's family at all.

I was thoroughly embarrassed and wanted to leave. As I said, I do love them, but they make my life into a sitcom. My quickening pace got me to the car, indicative of my wanting to leave. I assume my parents got the hint, and I can only guess that Alex smiled that small quick smile at them as he bowed and took his leave. We waved our last good byes, my parents from the doorway; I, as I stepped into the passenger's seat, and Alex from the other side of the car just as he put his hat on, and before he opened the door. He got in and started massive car. It grumbled and drove off slowly from the curb.

Out of sight, from my parents' house, Alex pulled over to the shoulder, leaned across the 3 feet of space between us (unintentional of course because the car was so wide) and kissed me, for the first time. "You look wonderful tonight." I shyly accepted his kiss, which was in no means was intrusive or offending, but proper and meaningful.

"Thank you." I quieted. It was hard not to be intimidated by Alex. His size dominated those around him, which I assume lead to his confidence in speaking, but among kids our age, around Nate, he seemed to tense up, as though he were more comfortable around those of an older generation.

He probably would have moved closer to me, but because you cant move the steering wheel or the pedals, I decided to slide across the seat towards him. He acknowledged my move. I acknowledged his acknowledging of my move, and he drove on to the city.

There was no need to put on music for the ride, but as teenagers nevertheless, we popped in Dark Side in the hidden CD changer under the seat. Not having CD players original in 1958, there were some modifications to the car. This included a very loud stereo.

Alex, though a good driver, especially considering the size of the cars he drove, but was terrible with directions, almost comically. ‘Matt, where am I going?' "I don't know I just moved here." ‘Find where we are going on this map' "This is a different state map." ‘Did we just pass it?' "That was a Burger king." It was good, though, and amusing to learn that Mr. Sophisticated (Which he was voted in school) had some faults. He made Alex seem more real to me. His squinting at signs seemed justified now.

After driving around the block twice looking for a spot, one large enough to accommodate the car, one of the theater parking people motioned us over in his direction and pointed us in the direction of the VIP red-carpet money people section. "It is this car. They mistook us for reasonable members of society." I said mocking at our eating cheetos and listening to Floyd while still wearing our white tuxes.

"Boy, are they going to be surprised when you step out."

"And you. Alex, what track is Money?"

"Either five or six. Or four. Something like that." I found it, and put it on very loudly. We were pulling up to the valet approaching the car while with the guitars playing very loudly, and Alex recognizing what was going to happen when we opened the door to get out. He slowed the car up to valets to time the vocals so that "Money ... It's a gas" would blare just as we opened the door. The timing was almost dead on. Valets coordinated their openings of our doors at the same time, and as each of us stepped foot our of the door, the lyrics begun. We were on the verge of hysterics as we tried to keep a straight face. The music was still blaring and everyone on the steps to the theatre, mostly old people, turned to look at who the hell just showed up. The looks on people's faces as they saw Alex and me were amusing. They saw two boys, walking side by side, in-step with each other, wearing white tuxedos, and both way under the age required to collect social security, walking up the VIP steps to the theatre entrance to a theme song. We paid them no attention, and just proceeded to continue to bound the steps, two at a time, until we reached the huge wooden doors, which matching doormen opened for us. To be perfectly honest, it was the best experience I can remember. I could still feel the people's comments and stares hitting us long after the doors closed.

We must have been a little early, because there were still servants arranging papers and stuff, but there were theatre-goers as well milling around. Alex nudged me, "Well, that was different. I can honestly say that I have never done that before." He said it straight laced, but I began to laugh, uncontrollably. I caught the glance of someone looking over, and took the hint to shut up. Which I did after another, quieter, laugh.

I guess with our being there early, the MCs were not prepared yet to allow patrons to their seats. I grabbed a glance at the tickets Alex bought. "Last minute seats, nosebleeds. Sorry." He said.

"We can easily change that." I have never done something like this before, but I walked over to an unattended guest sign in book, and looked at the balcony seats. I looked for the reserved, but unoccupied seats that wealthy vacationers buy to use when they are in town. I found just the two; right along the edge of the balcony, on the left side of the theatre. I walked over to the refreshments counter to get Alex. "Alex, how would you like to be the guest of a Mr. Edward Steele?"

He looked so classy with his tux, but the blue Icee killed it. "I figured you would ask something like that. Call me Abe Froehman." He laughed. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Don't worry about it." I felt embarrassed that I missed one.

The orchestra begun warming up, and the doors opened to the public. Instantly, as if on cue, waves of people flooded to form lines. "This line over here. I want her as the ticket checker." He indicated to a very attractive young cat. She must have been a college girl working nights for some extra cash, one of those types.

"I am jealous." I said teasingly. "She is pretty."

"She is, but she is young and looks easy going. We don't have tickets for this level, remember." Alex said cunningly. He faced forward, and we continued to stand in line. He stood so straight and tall with a serious face on. His tail was still sweeping, but he seemed to be using this wait to rest. He may have been thinking of a clever one liner, or a new conversation topic. I was. I wanted to keep the evening flowing and keep raising the bar higher and higher.

It may be worth mentioning that although I found Alex attractive, even sexually stimulating, I didn't want the evening to be centered around the thought of us having sex. I did. But realistically, I recognized that this evening was far more important for setting up the beginning of our relationship. I really wanted it to begin well. I found everything about Alex charming. I admired him for all he did, thinking back to this early morning when he got me out of class, did my homework, bought my suit, (he actually switched credit cards with me when he was holding my pants, and I paid with his card, thinking it was mine), and impressed my parents. He was marvelous. And he did it all with such a sangfroid face. Every line was perfect. He was perfect. And handsome, too. I hesitate in saying more, for fear of incriminating myself as the submissive one. I was a little quieter around others when I was with him, out of uneasiness, maybe? He was, I guess, my first boyfriend. But when we were together, Alex would hang on me (flatteringly of course) and charm me by complimenting me incessantly, more so than I him, which made me think that he was the more submissive. Either way, dominant or submissive, I had reservations.

We were the next in line when I realized that three minutes had passed while is moved zombie-like ahead. "Under what name should I look for your reservation, gentlemen?" asked the girl.

"I am Abe Froehman." Alex said, winking to the girl. She must have got it because she smiled.

"The sausage king of Chicago?" He smiled. She knew what he was talking about, and I finally placed the line. "Hmm, I don't see your name here." She said trying hard not to cause a scene.

"Sorry. My name is Edward Steele. I have balcony seats. I called in earlier. I don't have my tickets, but the reservation under my name is for the season, paid in advance." Suave, and completely fabricated, I amazed myself again. I probably shouldn't be proud of lying, but it was harmless. For the most part.

"Umm," she looked at the balcony seats reserved. "Ok, Mr. Steele. I have your seats listed. Remember your tickets next time. You and Mr. Froehman can enter and enjoy the show. Present these if someone questions your seats." She hesitated just a second, wondering if I was a patron of the theatre willing to pay an exorbitant amount for season tickets. Nevertheless, she handed me two patron season-tickets to indicate that I was legitimate in my claim.

We walked through the door up to the left balcony stairs. "How did we pull that one off? I assume that that was not protocol" I exclaimed.

"She was new. She had no idea. Say something funny, and the world fawns over you; forgetting the rules, and allowing you to pass unscathed out of any situation. Plus, you look so hot in your suit, if I was her, I would have done anything for you. And speaking for myself, I will." I blushed, this time.

We found our seats with ease, as there were only twelve or so seats in this particular balcony. It was a good stroke of luck that the attractive ticket-taker had given us a voucher ticket, as our flamboyant appearance drew attention to us from the ushers. We showed them our pass, and they casually moved aside, allowing us entry to our aisle, one decorated with too many fleur-de-lis and velvet.

We sat down in the velvety, plush chairs, each one adorned with the monogrammed initials of the theatre and yet another fleur-de-lis. "So, if I may," I began taking the early lead in beginning the conversation, "and without being rude, how many dates like this have you gone one?"

"I've never had a date quite like this one." Alex said without a moment's hesitation. I couldn't tell whether he was using the word date to reference the evening or me. I hoped it was me, but only if he meant it in a positive way. Alex was doing the look straight ahead thing as he talked to me. When he did this, he was always solemn; this gesture seemed to indicate Alex's way of showing honesty. "I mean, I have dated before, but that was quite different." His eyes went from wandering throughout the theater to resting on my own.

"I don't mean to question this conversation further, especially if you are uncomfortable," ‘Not at all,' he seemed to gesture. I hesitated, trying to think myself why I cared so much, "but what happened to the other guys?" It was all so perfect, I almost thought Alex could be a killer like in one of those movies.

He smiled, and threw his head back carelessly. There was something in his eyes that was not right though. "I can only imagine what you must think of me; some suave, gay, rogue dating often, maybe? But nothing could be farther from the truth. To this day, I have never actually ‘come out' so to speak." This shocked me. "I rather hoped that one day people in school would just sort of, assume, that I was gay, saving me the inevitable humiliation I would endure if I were to announce it publically." Although I never really associated with gays before, I assumed, maybe naïvely, that they had all decided to come out one hundred percent or else not at all.

"You are gay, then, aren't you?" I felt a little uncomfortable about questioning his sexuality, especially if he was uncomfortable with it, though I felt that I had seem right seeing how I was, presumably, his date.

"Well," it pained me watch him carefully choose his words, as though he was internalizing this as the first time he ever said them. "Yes, I am."

"Then it is selfish of you to hide your true self from everyone if you have decided already that you are gay. We don't all have the luxury of returning to ‘normalcy' in accordance with the situation." I was so vehement that I let my voice carry more than I ought to have. "You can't be two people at once."

He was looking down, ashamed. I noticed that it was the first time that his tail had stopped moving, and indeed, it touched the ground. "You are right. I cannot deny the validity of anything you have just said. This may not be a good excuse, but it is my only reason for not having done so in the past; I am terrified of coming out, of disappointing my parents."

Before I could get mad at him for believing that being gay was disappointing to anyone, I felt an overwhelming sensation of similarity pass between us. I could not deny that I too felt as Alex did before I came out, and I sometimes still felt that way, as I did only an hour or so ago.

"They would be supportive. I know they would. They would like you, too, when I introduce them to you. Everything seems as though it would fall into place so perfectly. But I was raised in a household of two girls, myself being the only male heir, so to speak. It seems outdated, especially in today's society, but if I were to come out to my parents, I would dash their dreams of continuing the family line. And whether they value our family name or not, I would feel responsible, should it end with me."

I reached over and grabbed his hand with my own. I think I knew the feeling. I was lucky in the sense that I did have an older brother who could conceivably continue our family, but I still felt as if I knew how much was riding on Alex; the pressure, the tradition, the judgment.

"Alex," I began as the lights dimmed, "I didn't mean to upset the evening. Please don't hold it against me. Please go back to being the sexy, joyful fox that I have grown to love so much." I added in a whisper just as the curtain went up, "Seeing you sit like that is extremely bothersome; your posture is horrible."

"He looked over, and smiled. He was still, well I don't actually know what the word was. Vulnerable? I could tell that I had made an impact upon him. There was the acknowledgement that he knew I was right, and a jealousy, that he himself seemed to recognize that I was what the future might hold for him. He did fix his posture, though, and seemed relieved that I was not either prying or holding anything against him.

I would be happy to go back and describe in length the beauty and grandeur of the theatre, probably built to imitate some baroque French theatre, but I do not want to gloss over what had happened. Alex and I shared a very serious conversation, and as intense as it may have been, it was good to have gotten so much out in the open. I felt reassured that Alex trusted me enough to divulge this slew of information. This scene would have intensified with the passing of time had it not been for the fact that we did not know that the opera, and yes, it was an opera, was in Italian. I didn't speak Italian. Alex didn't speak Italian. We each furrowed our brows once we realized that the words they were speaking were not in English, and simultaneously grabbed the playbills to read "Preformed in its original language." At least the mood lightened when Alex and I began to provide fake translations to the movement of the actors, loosely based on a tragic love story about drug dealers in Brazil. I found it amusing, even if it was completely stupid. It was only until Intermission that the elderly couples within earshot of our rather discrete whispers mentioned that they liked our version better, too. Consequently, a group of three or four couples invited us to have a drink with them after the show, provided that we kept them entertained for the remaining two hours. The mere fact that we put so much energy into this was embarrassing, but for me at least, it made me feel lighthearted and carefree. It was nice to be in the company of someone you care for and just have a good time.

Laughter and cigar smoke surrounded us as we all sat in the theatre's Drone's Club. Invited by one for the balconies' high rollers, we felt out of place monetarily, but were able to keep appearances up. Thankfully we were not noticeably the youngest ones there. There were several other men in the club in their early twenties, so naturally we associated with them more so than the seventy-year-olds. Brandy and snifters were passed around, and although we declined, the air alone was 40 percent proof and worthy of a Surgeon General's warning sticker.

Sufficiently awkward, we said our goodbyes to the couple that had invited us and made our way out.

"Thank goodness we are out of there. I can breathe again." I said. "My fur will smell terrible for days."

"Actually, "Alex said has he leaned in close to my neck as if he were going to either bite me, "it smells pretty good." I was thankful that I was still moderately appealing. Then I felt a tongue slide across my neck to the opening of my ear. "And you taste pretty good as well."

"Well thank you." I said, trying to contain my excitement. I felt that this was right; that this is what I wanted, even if I had only known him for a relatively brief amount of time. It sounds inconceivable to say, but I felt that there was something special about us. Not that we would necessarily be together forever, or even that we knew each other's favorite color or birthday, but that we were at a point in our relationship where we could feel comfortable in what we were doing.

We were still walking out of the lobby, passing the ticket girl from before. She looked tired. She must have been the only of the ticket takers willing to miss Jeopardy to stay late. She acknowledged us as we glided past her. I watched her look at us analytically, and it made me both happy and concerned.

Alex was much more handsome that I was, and I am not speaking condescendingly. I felt that as he walked the graceful step of his pointed shoe and spat drew any and all admirers up his extremely long shin and thigh. As I described, his suit was old-world, and the tightness of it and yet the folded seams led one's eyes to his waist, almost thin enough to merit concern. His coat was tight as well, but folded and almost ruffled at the seams like his pants, so as to give depth and shadow. He insisted on buttoning up his coat whenever he was standing, right from the bottom to the very top. His cravat was still perfect and suspiciously tight. He seemed to glow in an eerie way. But unquestionably, his tail was what brought his whole charm together. I maintain that it was just as long as he was, or close enough, and when fully fluffed out, was twice as wide. But if you touched it, it was like water, flowing to fill your hand, as though it took your shape.

I felt proud to be with him, but scared. He was so alluring, what made me so special? He could have easily gotten the ticket girl, or even one of the drunken high rollers in the back room. I felt that he must have been damaged as much as he was beautiful, but I had only his encounter with Nate to back me up. Regardless, I felt that life had some exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows in it for me.

In our moment of fun, we had left our overcoats in the car, along with Alex's hat (which I was not particularly crazy about, but which seemed to suit him fine). I wished I had mine, for with the wind blowing directly at me when the porter opened the door to the theatre, a rush of wind pushed my pants against my legs and my white coat rushed open to expose a rather large erection, I hastily pulled the jacket down and buttoned it hoping that no one had seen. Alex, however rushed ahead to the valet and labored for a moment trying to get the ticket from his pocket. As I reached him, he was flushed, but not from the cold. He had a noticeable erection too, and with the tight long coat, his was not very hide-able.

"I guess the night was a success" I said to him as he tried futilely to hide finding the valet ticket with readjusting himself. I let the wind push one of the corners of my jacket up to expose myself too, to which he smiled.

"I am glad I am not the only one. If I had remembered my coat, I would have been able to conceal it better, but as it turns out, I am glad I forgot it.

I felt a vibration in my pants, which caused me to jump a little. I reached in to grab my phone, when Alex smiled to himself as said, "I think my phone is ringing too" so as not to scare off the valet approaching us with the keys to the car now that two minutes later, he was still digging in his pants. It was well past the time at which I was to be home. I forgot to telephone my parents and tell them that I was unscathed and not in trouble or danger in any form, and if I could, could I stay out longer presuming that I remain as such.

"Matt, you know how I feel about this whole situation" came the generic parental reply. If it was my father speaking, this would be the end of the conversation, at least on his part, and I would be obliged to go home. Since it was in fact my mother, "But, as long as you don't wake your father when you get home, you can stay out a little later. Be good, Matt."

"Yes, mom."

"Well, you are smiling, which means that your parents instructed you to come straight home, and you are happy at the thought of ending this evening with me." He was joking of course, for as he began, I gave him my ‘pouty face' and conveyed to him that that was not true at all, my parents had allowed me a few extra hours.

"I am having a lovely time. Should that have been the case, I would have made a scene. Oh, look. I am glad the car is here." We had been waiting for quite some time for the car to be brought around. The night was getting cold.

Finally, in the distance, we saw the old-fashioned headlights futilely truing to illuminate anything at all. Our ‘Balcony brethren' were waiting in the valet line behind us, and it felt good to hear them comment to themselves, each other, and us that they "remember back in the day when" they had their own 50s Cadillacs. We shook several of the men's hands, bowed before the ladies, and proceeded to walk towards the parked car as the valets opened the doors.

"Do either of you speak French?" We turned.

"Yes, we both do" Alex shouted back.

"Pity. There is a French play next week. I was looking forward to how Les Miserables could be translated into a drug story." This merited the group's laughter, and mine as well. Again, as we did with my parents hours ago, we each waved as we got into the car. The valets closed my door, and Alex presented the driver a gratuity.

We were off.

Before we got too far along, I slid across the wide seat and gave Alex a kiss on his right cheek. He purred, or cooed, or something which let me know he enjoyed it. And I motioned to pull away with my back and neck, but my lips went in for a second and third time down on his cheek and his neck.

"This is terribly tacky and forward of me, Matt, but would you be a dear and climb over the seat to get that thing" and he gestured randomly to the back of the car.

"Yeah, sure. What thing?"

"That thing." He was driving, but we were going up a deserted road and he could have either reached back and got it himself or look back to show me exactly where it was.

Either way, I was in no mood to be even the slightest bit annoyed, so I climbed over the seat and into the back of the car. It was unusual to be standing up as he was driving over the gravel road, what with the bumps and everything, but I managed. The carpet was very thick and the seat was huge, though the only thing I noticed back there was a single white flower on the center of the seat. It seemed strange that it should be there without a vase, but even with a vase, a flower was an unusual request for a driver.

"Did you get lost?"

"I don't see anything here. Did you mean the Albane?"

"Hold on. He stopped the car and hopped over the front seat to meet me. "Yes this is exactly what I wanted. But how did on earth did you know what it was?" I presented him with the flower and he smelled it for a moment before he held it out delicately back at me.

"You were on chapter eight of Huysmans the first day I met you. I found his fascination with flowers interesting, and I looked them all up online to see what they looked like."

"Well, I wanted to give this to you." Obviously intimidated.

"And you wanted me to get it for you to give it to me?"

"No, I wanted to get you in the back so that when I pulled over above the city you wouldn't see I was taking you to Lover's Lane. Plus, it would be a shame to stay in the front when the back is so much more comfortable.

I suddenly tensed. I didn't think that something like this would actually happen. Not that I didn't secretly want it to, but I wasn't sure if I was ready.

"Please don't think me forward, but I have fallen in love with you. How could I help but not? I have never done anything with anyone else before, but if you would like to, would you mind sleeping with me?"

He said it as though he were courting in the early twentieth century. I had not done anything either, though I was positive I didn't need directions for this one. I took the flower and looked at it. A smile passed my lips. "I'll let him" and I pulled off a petal, "No thank you" and I plucked another one. "Yes...No...Yes...No" and there was one left. "Hmmm, the gods have spoken. I'll accept your request."

"You counted."

"Hold it against me?"

"Gladly" and he reached into his pants and pulled out his penis and leaned in to have it press my chest. "Better?"Clever.

"Clever." I helped him take off his suit, which did take more than one person given the numerous clasps and buttons. I got him down to just his fur and I was spinning. His fur was silk. I was thankfully sitting on the seat, because it was all I could do to keep breathing let alone kneeling on the floor, as it was a low ceiling standing was difficult.

He knelt facing me, allowing a great view of his previously concealed body. He stared back at me as though needing some sort of inward approval or indication that I was still interested.

"Oh I am" answering my thought. He gave a puzzled glance, but seemed to understand. I began to undress myself, as he knelt watching me. His penis began to extend from the furred sheath as I shed my shirt in a more provocative manner than was necessary to my own tune of Billy Squire. I, out of embarrassment that he was able to get naked but not erect, struggled to undo my belt and take off my underwear without it getting caught. Slow but steady, I tossed all of my clothes behind Alex's head, purposely hitting him in the face with my underwear. He smelled it before removing it from his face. I was still sitting, dressed on only my socks.

"Almost there," he said as he reached forward and beckoned me to raise my leg so that he could remove my socks with his teeth. As he fabric slid off my foot, I regained the ability to breathe. I watched as his balls and his shaft were dragging on the carpet as he knelt before me. He sat back on his haunches, as if awaiting my command.

"Your penis looks smooth." As he reached forward with both hands. I almost fainted. He touched me. "Oh, it is. I bet it is warm too." And he rubbed the tip of my shaft between his eyes and across his cheek. "Lastly, I bet it tastes as good as it looks. Maybe better." I actually think I black out. A red and white circle appears over my eyes, but it is actually Alex's forehead coming up from licking my balls to my glans. "It does."

My body goes limp as he continued to lick me, an interesting and unexpected talent. "My tongue is too long for my jaw. Licking is an unusually enjoyable activity for me. I hope you don't mind."

"Ahhhhhhh."

"I'll take that as ‘yes, Alex, I do enjoy you licking my chest'" as he proceeded to do such.

I managed to look down at my abdomen after I realized that Alex had stopped. I was getting too greedy, and obviously, he had had enough. I felt bad. I looked at him, and he had a suggestive smirk in his eyes. I puzzled at what so funny when he sucked in a big breath of air and blew it on me. The saliva on my fur felt cool and I looked down to see an intricate pattern of swirls and lines from him tracing his tongue over my body. Written backwards and upside-down from his perspective, perfect for mine, was written with surprising legibility, ‘FUCK ME.'

My eyes widened as I looked up and my mouth hung open. He raised one eyebrow and I nodded. This was the kinkiest thing that I have ever seen. I don't even think that I could have thought of it myself, but I give him due credit.

"Are you sure?"

"If it makes you feel better, you can pay me $1." I was not entirely sure if he was joking or not, but in my frazzled state, I asked him to hand me my pants. He laughed, but passed me the pants I had thrown over his shoulder a few minutes ago.

I fumbled with the button, but managed to pull a crisp dollar out. I was gathering my senses quickly as I balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder.

He looked confused, but I instructed him, "You should at least be paid."

He turned to get the bill, and as he got to his knees and turned around, I silently jumped up and grabbed his tail up and painfully forced his ass to spread around my penis.

"Holy Shit!" he said as he obviously indicated his surprise. The arm that he had used to support himself as he reached for the dollar caved and he was left with his knees supporting his ass raised in the air with me leaning over his back, my hands feverously pulling him closer to me as I forced myself into him. I hilted him. I wanted to. I didn't even care that I was probably hurting him.

Pinched and conveying extreme pain, Alex gasped, "I might have to charge $2 if this is how you are going to fuck me. Ow."

For the first time, I realized what I had done, and fumbling, I cried, exasperating, "I am so sorry!" I motioned to pull out, when I suddenly lost myself in pleasure.

"You were not thinking of pulling out were you? I can handle you, I was just not expecting you to act on your emotions. I thought I was the only one who wanted you that bad. I am glad to be proved wrong, even if I won't be able to sit for the next few days." I was speechless. "Well, are you going to continue?"

"Uh-huh." And I slowly began to pull out, maybe a quarter of an inch before he leaned back into me.

"Not that far, cowboy. You are in too far to pull out that much. I need you there for a few minutes before you even think of moving your knot to my ring."

"So while we wait, ‘cowboy,' ‘can I feel the barrel of your gun?'"

"My heart is racing, ‘one hundred and eighty b.p.m.'"

And I reached around his hips and began to stroke him with both hands as I put my entire upper body weight on his back.

I was rocking in order to get the leverage needed to get him off, and yet I could still feel my know against his ass. I was moving at a pretty quick rate, hoping that if I could get him off fast enough, he would still have enough come left to get off another time under more hospitable conditions. Namely, in me.

He had closed his eyes and was dreaming, about what I couldn't fathom. Had I more time to think about it, I probably could have figured out that the last person to touch him was Nate. He had mentioned that all he had ever done was jerked off with Nate, and I could tell that he was telling the truth. Still, these thoughts had not ever occurred to me until later.

Abruptly, Alex reared back as if he was going to throw me, but I had a pretty good anchor. He leaned back and arched his head as I bit down out of surprise on his neck. He glared at me with fire in his eyes as if he were going to kill, the blood and thirst in the black of his eyes bursting into flames and his teeth glistening with blood as though out of frustration he bit his lip or tongue. The sudden change in his features was astonishing and legitimately frightening, as though I was a child attempting to tame a wild beast full of great vengeance and furious anger. I could feel him starting to come, bubbling with anticipation, and obviously the cause of this new feral nature. I felt that the only way I could cope with Alex's openly aggressive countenance was to assert some of my own. As I felt him understand what was happening to him, I thrust into him with a kick off from the back seat. I was aware that this would hurt him badly, but I could not let him challenge my dominance, as though I had become defensive of my dominance at the thought of my bitch challenging me.

The lunge caught him off guard and a blood curdling snarl came from the inner depths of Hell as I used my kick off to buckle his legs and shoot him across the air. With no support, his head and chest began to fall, but not quick enough to miss being coated by his own ejaculation. With my weight on Alex's back, I had curled into somewhat of a ball, cupping Alex, and forcing him to facial himself with his own semen as I ejaculated into him all the while.

In a dead panic, I thought I may have killed him. I landed on him pretty hard, and he landed strangely on his throat, my penis piercing his rectum even deeper as gravity took its toll on us. The impact was strong enough to cause my length to pull out, despite the swollen knot, which I had never seen fully filled until now. Alex, on the other hand was in a terrible state of dishevelment, still bleeding from the mouth and now sticky with how own sweat and come, while even more flowed from his ass. He lay crooked. And I began to feel faint.

In reality only a second has passed since he had growled that angry snarl, and half a second since that other Hellish scream. But no faster a transition was made from anger and rage and lust to pitiful, broken, filth, as Alex resembled lying before me.

He was breathing, I managed to deduce, but other than that, the outcome was questionable. His eyes were bloodshot and distant. But his breathing allowed me to rest assured he was alive. He tried to speak, but only a dry heave of air escaped him. He breathed in again, pained and muffled. He made a motion to turn to look at the hideous creature that had brought him to such a horrible existence of pain and shame. I could only sit there. He looked at me, then the other way, and made a motion to move his arms. I could feel him trying to move his legs, but I was sitting on them unable to move myself. Instead, all I could do was burst out into a blubbering mess of tears and fall on his back crying. I Grabbed his back, as though if I rubbed it and got the blod flowing again, he would be mended.

I had to say something, but it all came out in terrifies screams of apology, undistinguishable. I wished myself dead. I cursed myself, and whished I had never spoken to him for the terribile things I had done to him despite his own caring and self-sacrificing gestures. He motioned to prop himself up on his elbows, and out of respect for him, I could ony gladly remove myself rom him.

"What happened?!"

"I don't know! You scared me, and then I took over! I am so sorry!" I was legitimately a mess.

"I am fine. Shocked, but fine. I totally didn't expect that to happen." His words were clearer than it looked like he was capable to have spoken them. "My ring is a tad sore from you pulling your entire know out of me, but I am okay. I can breathe and speak."

I clutched him. I hugged him just for being alive. He still was on the floor of the car, confused as to why I was crying so hysterically, but he began to smooth my fur and calm me down. "So was it really that bad?"

"Bad?" I questioned. "You are lucky to be alive!"

"Oh please, you aren't that big. You just caught me off guard. Satisfying your urges got the better of you."

"But you are bleeding." I insisted to show him that he was actually hurt. "And I bit you," remembering that I had bit him.

"I know. The bite was kind of kinky, but the blood was my fault. I bit my lip while licking you. I have my dentist file my teeth to be dangerously sharp, for no other purpose then I like them that way." He breathed, "Don't worry, you did nothing wrong. In fact, it was hot. I can't say that that ever happened before. Plus," and he licked his face, "I like the taste of semen." And he licked his face.

I was at a loss. Now that I realized he was okay, I was gradually allowing myself to revel in the fact that I had just taken another, and that I could not have enjoyed myself, personally, any more.

"Matt?"

"Yes?"

"What say we go for a swim to wash this off us?"

Without anything else to say, I nodded. I probably should have looked out of the windows to see if there were any furs looking into the back windows wondering if a murder just took place, or at least if there were any other furs getting it on themselves. But in this still trance like state, I opened the door, and walked a hundred yards to what looked like a small pond or the banks of a still river.

In the moonlight, I saw myself. I still looked like me. I looked back behind me to see Alex walking towards me. He was beautiful in the moonlight, though to anyone else, he would have looked like he was in desperate need of a bath. The only distinguishable difference was that his gait was slightly smaller than it had been before. I surmised why, and my penis gave a nod to suggest that I was right, as if it were proud at its work.

I walked in, hand in hand with Alex, until I was sure that the cool water had woken me up enough to see that everything as fine. Better. I had just lost my nerve. And my virginity. Alex, once submerged, reappeared from the surface of the water a new man. As handsome as he ever was, but wet. As if he had been reborn, and I was there to witness it. He splashed a little water at me, and shot a quick smile before diving in again.

"If you don't stop moping or whatever, I will never let you fuck me again. Now get over here."

Maybe he was a masochist, maybe I was stupid. But there was no way I was going to let that prospect escape me.