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Hello, darlings,

welcome to the Hockey Hunk! Time for another chapter, and am I glad to be back! I hope you remember that we're still on a once-per-week schedule for now so that I have time to finish up some commissions in due time, and to work on other projects as part of my...occupational therapy, of sorts, to get through this stupid thing. But that's that. What is here is a new chapter, and another installment in this story I call the Hockey Hunk! Who would have thought! And I do hope you have an interesting time, and that you give me a few comments once I'm done to tell me how I did.

Thank you, and have a good read!

Gruffy

*

There were two of them, and they entered one after the another, smoothly, long muzzles looking sternly ahead of them. They wore patented comfort shoes, brown skirts, long caftan-like shirts in eye-watering floral prints, and oversized leather paw bags in paw. One of them had handles that looked like they'd been made of bamboo, and that the rest of it had been knit.

Don't ask me why I noticed details like that. I was assessing their accessories for their potential of being used for bludgeoning me in true silent movie style, if things went downhill fast.

Good God. Why wasn't there a panic button under the desk?

Now, I had to be the man, the alpha, the master...whatever. I had to stand upright, take it like a man...with lube, hopefully...puff out my chest...stabilize my tail...check that my collars were nice...yes...they were...and then, to put my smile on my lips...*streeetch*...yes...there we go...

"Good day, welcome to the Albrecht Brothers!" I spoke in my most pleasant voices that wouldn't have been out of place coming out from the vocal cords of Mister Nicholas Faye Jr. "Can I help you today?"

One of the vixens raised her head and looked at me.

My heart skipped a beat.

"We are just looking," she said, before her muzzle turned another 90 degrees to once again stare resolutely ahead of herself in the manner that made sure that she would in no way show any interest to anyone or anything spoken to her.

I was going to say a thankyou, but it failed to leave my lips. Instead, I took a deep breath and turned to look at our new charge, who remained standing and calm on his own spot, blissfully unaware that some of our scariest customers ever had decided to re-enter our store, despite them previously labeling us very inadequate indeed for not being able to stock books that hadn't even been published yet.

I mean, foxes are lovely and all, but these two examples...they were plain terrifying.

At least they were moving away, for now.

"Should one of us go to serve them?"

That soft voice again...that extreme politeness. It seemed almost unnatural, coming from someone so young. Even his eyes were young, behind those spectacles perched on his muzzle. He could've been clutching a teddy bear -

• now maybe that was a bit much, to think, but he was certainly...eerie, somehow.

"Yeah?" I fumbled.

"Should someone be at the floor in case they would decide to request assistance?" Paul suggested. "That way, they would receive immediate attention from the staff."

I glanced over again. The vixens had reached the level of the 'SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE' section and were about to come muzzle to muzzle with the cardboard knight advertising Lord Mistwillow.

Sigh.

"Mason doesn't seem to be there," I noted. Thankfully the wolf wasn't around. Maybe he'd sensed the vixen's approach and withdrawn to the safety of his second paw book section before the danger of encountering and having to serve the foxes became imminent. Crafty wolf, Mister Stephens. I should commend him for his cunning choice.

Maybe I was going mad, thinking all this stuff while peering quietly towards the show, inappropriately terrified of two women who together probably weighted less than I did. But maybe I was just funny like that. Or just a...light on my loafers shop assistant lion who just didn't like getting into conflicts with silly ladies.

"Then I'll gladly go, unless you need me here, Mister Gliese."

Oh again with that...

"Well there's not exactly a queue here, so off you go!" I smiled.

Muahahahahah!

_ _

"Excuse me, then."

At least he didn't bow...why did I expect him to? He simply left his post behind the counter once he locked his cash register and then took slow, steady steps on his way towards the back of the store and whatever challenges awaited him there.

Such drama! Such tension!

I tried not to spy too obviously...there were other customers around, in fact, an otter was already approaching, with a few paperbacks in his paws. That busied me for a few moments alright. I did peek over towards the back of the shop, to see fox eartips, and the shape of the mildly smiling tiger, moving about the premises like the cat of the land.

"...and thank you for shopping with us, hope you come again soon!" I smiled to the otter, who wasn't too keen on chit-chat, but did drop me a polite smile and them disappear.

By that time, there was a new scent in the air, and when I turned to my left, I saw Marge standing there, peering at me curiously. Her paws held something in them, and she had one of her...intrigued looks on her muzzle, while her tail danced behind her, and she eyed me predatorily.

"Yes?" I spoke carefully.

"Would you like a piece of chocolate?" she lifted her paws and displayed a chocolate bar, opened, and the tin foil wrapper curled at one end, and the sweet smell of chocolate lingering in my nosepad. "It's hazelnut, almond, pear...it's a hullabaloo!"

Well, the way she put it...it did look delicious, as much as it smelled. That kind of deliciousness that itched on your tongue, when you were subjected to it. I might've started salivating soon, I thought. It looked just lovely, and the scent...hmmmmm...

(Chocolate-boner!)

"Are we supposed to eat at the floor?" I suggested.

"I'm the boss, I make the rules," Marge replied, as if my suggestion had been particularly outrageous, "except the dress code, that comes from the office of Young Mr. Albrecht, and that's why you aren't wearing something much more...pleasing."

Oh, dear...this again? Why did she need this many..uh...lust hormones? She was already pregnant, it's not like she had to find someone to...eh...mate with? Surely she didn't want to mate with me, she already had the bun in the oven from the erstwhile rainbow pants boy Goggy who knew how to handle a paintbrush better than a contraceptive, it seemed.

"Maybe I'll take one piece," I said, "thank you."

I reached over and clipped a square of the chocolate into my fingers and popped it into my maw before it'd have time to melt onto my pads. I was pretty sure if that was the case, Marge would command me to give a nice finger-licking show, and that would be amusing to no end for her.

Maybe if Victor was doing that, though...now there was an idea...

And I still had that chocolate from Colin...

Dang.

I chewed onto the chocolate in my muzzle and let the different flavors melt onto my tongue.

"Hmmm...truly nice, Marge, excellent, really!" I enthused. "Having cravings?"

She stuck out her tongue at me.

"Goggy bought it for me as a makeup present after I got angry with him after he suggested I should buy a maternity dress," she replied. "And let's say that was enough to get him away from the couch and restore his bedroom privileges..."

Eeeeeew, hetero sex...

"Very nice of him," I hurried to comment, "What did he do to get the couch in the first place?"

"Caught smoking in his studio," she snorted. "When he was supposed to be just sketching. Turns out he had a cigarette in his muzzle, and an entire pack hidden in his paint box."

"Aww," I pouted.

"I threw it all out of course," she stated, "and I got chocolate!"

"How lovely."

"Of course my mother keeps calling me every other day to asks for updates..." Marge mused moaningly, "She is very keen to see her first granddaughter born."

My ears perked.

"Granddaughter?"

"She is convinced that it's a girl," Marge replied," she claims she can tell by my scent."

"Your scent?" I asked.

"My scent, the shape of my belly - which I don't even have yet!" she yelped. "And the fact that I want to eat extraordinary amounts of onions, and that I get nauseous from the smell of washing powder..."

"Does your mother also read tea leaves?" I smiled.

"Only when it's the full moon," Marge proposed.

I was about to ask her whether her mother also howled at the full moon from the window of one of her planes, but the sight of a particular tiger approaching with two vixens in tow was enough to cancel my humor mode for now.

"Customers" I mouthed to Marge before preparing for the possible onslaught...only to see the vixens walk right over to cash register number one, where Paul the tiger settled himself effortlessly and turned his full attention to the foxes.

He never stopped talking, not while he slipped the books into bags, accepted payment in a ridiculous array of rumpled bills and coins, offered special offer coupons and AUTUMN IS COMING! sale brochures, and waved them goodbye without breaking a sweat.

"Ah, Miss Pitt," he smiled ever so politely to our local cougarette, "can I help you?"

"Have chocolate!" she commanded and shoved the delicacy forward.

"Thank you, Miss Pitt," he rumbled, accepting the treat kindly.

"It's Marge," she warbled, "we're all one big family here, after all, multicultural, multispecies..."

Multisexual?

"Alright," he said.

"I can't believe they actually bought something" I turned to muse to my striped compatriot. "Usually they just march in, decide we're a terrible shop and leave."

"Interesting," the young padawan noted, "they did seem somewhat indecisive at first, but were quite taken by our special offer on detox books."

"I didn't even know we have one," I said.

"We have had since this morning!" Marge said. "Have to clear the stores before the new ones come in for the Christmas wellness season."

"The Christmas turkey diet?" I asked.

Probably turned them to look like a turkey, too, if you kept up with it long enough.

"We have to meet the demand for stocking fillers!" Marge declared. "Christmas is less than three months away! Early bird offers must start soon!"

"Certainly, but - "I started.

"Surely you remember that from your old workplace, Paul," she stated to the tiger. "Your resume did say you worked there for quite some time, including the seasons."

"Not really," the tiger murmured, "We didn't exactly get a rush during the Christmas period. There isn't a very big market for Talmud literature, I believe."

Marge looked at him curiously. I gave a more amused glance. The tiger didn't seem to mind the attention. He looked amused, more like.

"We catered for a different market," he said. "But you should've seen the Chanukah rush hour."

I wasn't sure whether that was a joke or not, but he was smiling.

"Oh," Marge said.

"Yes," I told her seriously, "have you forgotten that cultural sensitivity training we had to go through last spring?"

"You're mean," she snorted.

*

Thank you for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed yourself, and I look forward to reading your comments! Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

See you next week!