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I hate weddings.

_But I love croquembouche! _

Meadow exhaled through her pink, sniffy nose, smiling happily as she chewed on a gloriously flaky dough ball. "Mm-f." The perfect French pastry. Almost as good as an orgasm. She swallowed and looked around self-consciously as she thought this. She was alone. But, still. Then she glanced down at the bowl of sweet cream puffs. Cause, yes, not only did she have more, but there was cream inside, too.It is like sex!

She popped another into her mouth. There had been several 'towers' or 'spires' of them on the dessert table, and she'd swiped a few layers for herself. Calories be damned. This is a celebration, right? I have a decently fast metabolism."Mm-h!" _But you know what happens when you mix mouses and sugar. Don't overdo it! _

Each 'puff' was glazed with fine, glue-like strings of caramel, slight dashes of cinnamon or powdered sugar, and slivers of roasted almonds. Whoever came up with this deserves a medal. As she ravenously consumed them, she gazed at the modest Indianapolis skyline. Though a big city, it was more sprawled than dense. This gave the downtown a deceptively intimate feel. All told, the capital's population bordered one million. And I'm just a face in the crowd. A country girl who has no idea what she's doing. She glanced at her near-empty bowl of pastries. _Well, I know how to stuff my muzzle with sweets, I guess. That's something? _

Working on the last few 'puffs,' she leaned against the sturdy metal railing which surrounded the perimeter of the banquet hall's roof. She was outdoors, three stories up. There was a great view of the city. It was dusk and the lights on the skyscrapers were starting to shine before her. Her murky-blue eyes followed the blocky, bi-colored shape of the state's tallest building, the Chase Tower, all the way to its pyramidal, spired top. It mimicked the design of the pearly war monuments in its northern shadow. Red lights blinked on and off intermittently atop its powerful antennae like a mechanical pulse. It was strangely soothing.

Having finished the pastries, Meadow set her bowl on the cement ground. Or is it concrete? What's the difference?

She gripped the rails and sighed. She felt out of her element. Not just because she was wearing a dress right out of a fairy tale, but because she was a single fur at a wedding full of couples. Maybe it's just your imagination. Maybe no one notices you're unattached. Her whiskers twitched. Yeah, right.

It is too fancy, though.

I bet this reception alone cost ten thousand dollars. Probably more. Twenty thousand? Twenty-five? At least! There are three hundred furs here. The food, drink. Many of them are being put up in hotels, including myself for the night. Even though I only live, what, thirty miles away? Why is money no object when it comes to weddings? Fifty percent of them end in divorce anyway. How is that a wise investment? Those are risky odds. Think about it!

"I am thinking about it," she muttered to herself. How could she not? Or even be allowed to? She'd been hearing about this wedding for weeks. It's all her relatives had wanted to talk about. No one believes it'll happen to them. Everyone is a hero in their own success story. To contemplate failure would ruin the illusion. One of her female cousins was getting married. Meadow had been chosen as a bridesmaid. She'd been surprised. She and the cousin weren't terribly close. They'd spent a lot of time together as youth, but nowadays? They hardly crossed paths. She'd felt humbled at first. It's so easy to butter you up. But, then, she'd discovered there were at least ten bridesmaids and the honor had lost its luster.

Honestly, I'd rather not be here. For one, it had meant traveling downtown, not just for the wedding and reception right now, but for all the previous rehearsals and showers and whatnot. I have a job. As a secretary at an office, but did that make it any less serious? I have things I want to do._She didn't know what those were, but she did. _Just because I'm single doesn't mean I have no life! I had to spend some of my vacation days on this! Aside from holidays, I only get three weeks per year.

And, two? There was a stigma attached to being older and single. Especially if you were a female. She was in her early thirties. If you weren't attached by the time you left your twenties, something must be inherently wrong with you. Doesn't she want kids? She's running out of time! Her clock's ticking! Maybe she's gay, though? No, I don't want kids, thank you. I know that's hard to believe, but I don't. And I'm straight. Mostly. She always left herself some wriggle-room. Why am I an 'old maid' for being single and childless but a male who's the same is just a carefree bachelor?

Anyway, brooding and double standards aside, she'd attended the wedding. She was here. Obviously. To refuse the invitation would've invited awkwardness at future family gatherings, including all the big holidays. It really wasn't worth it. I'm so bad at confrontation. I talk big inside my head, but in reality I'm a pushover.

She sighed. She felt a little restless. Twitchy, too. Even more than usual. Must've been all the sugar she just ate. I told you to be careful! Well, I tried to be, but for heaven's sake. The croquembouche is the most exciting thing that's happened all day. The wedding itself had been frightfully dull.

She closed her eyes and tried to translate the bride and groom's vows into common vernacular.

'I like having sex with you a lot!'

'I like having sex with you, too!'

'Yes, and it's so mind-blowingly satisfying that it needs to be legally recognized!'

'Agreed, my love. But that's not enough! We also need to have this expensive public ceremony to ensure that everyone is recognizing us recognizing the recognition.'

'Yes, circle of validation!'

'Watch them clap and cry as we kiss! And all the gifts! We require presents! Because we spent thirty grand on throwing this party instead of furnishing our home. We can do that. Because we're not single.' The imaginary version of the groom looked straight at Meadow's imaginary self. "You know, like you."

"Hey!" The harvest mouse's whiskers twitched. She hated it when her own mind turned on her! She shook her head clear. Okay, so maybe the actual vows were more tactful than that. "And maybe you're being a little cynical ... "

A little?

"Fine, a lot," she groused. "But it doesn't change the facts!"

Furs just can't keep their relationships to themselves. When I've been with guys, I haven't broadcast it, have I?

"Only cause you're shy as hell and don't have any friends to brag to."

So? Even if I weren't and did, I wouldn't start every conversation with, 'My mate this, my mate that! Oh, my mate and I went here! Oh, do you know what my mate did?' Seriously.

She made an over-exaggerated 'gag' face.

I'm as much a romantic as anyone. But there's a time and a place for it. Shouldn't there be? Or am I just old-fashioned?

It was like, after being alone for so long, one vicariously took ownership of their lover's activities and accomplishments and felt compelled to broadcast them alongside their own. Just to make it extra clear this relationship was happening. To make it clear that you were now more than you. You were part of something greater. Again with the validation.

She suspected that faded over time. She honestly couldn't remember her parents gushing stupidly about each other, for instance. They'd been together thirty-five years. Maybe they had when she was younger and she just didn't remember? Or maybe it was a byproduct of their quiet, conservative temperament.

Thirty-five years.

If I married this year, I would be sixty-six on my thirty-fifth anniversary.

God.

Her whiskers drooped.

As good as her intentions were, her relationships never took root. It's because I always fall for the aloof, masculine types. Never anyone practical.

There was that canine hybrid in Alaska. Homer. During her vacation there last summer. That'd been a wistful one-night stand. One night and one morning, technically. We did it, what, three times? I remember each one vividly. He was so independent and rugged. As passive as she was, she never would've been able to keep up with him over the long term. Besides, even if she'd had the gall to move cross-country, she'd never survive Alaskan winters. There aren't ear-mittens and tail-socks thick enough.

Most recently, there was the okapi. She hugged herself just thinking about him. Sol was goofy and sweet. They'd had great chemistry at first. He was hung like a horse, too. Not that she'd ever been with a horse! And not that size is everything! She wasn't a size queen. But it was still a novelty to be with a guy who was that well, uh ... well-endowed. It was different than what she was used to. Leave it at that, Meadow. She swallowed and cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. She felt a lump forming in her throat.

As the weeks and months passed, the novelty began wearing off. She and Sol had found it harder and harder to hold simple conversations. He was a bit of a jock and would always be distracted with his physical interests. His job, too. He worked for a small town parks department and they were in their busiest season right now. Add in her own job and hobbies, and, well ...

_It was like, once we'd fully gotten to know each other, we became strangers. How is that possible? It's not fair. I tried so hard to make it work. He was so nice. _

Her eyes watered.

They'd finally agreed to take a break to 'reassess' things. No hard feelings. No real goodbyes. There was always the possibility they might pick things back up. That'd been in early May. It was mid-June, now. She'd fought the urge to contact him several times. Especially around bedtime. Dark, quiet nights were the worst. She'd get irrationally lonely. Sometimes, she cried.

Sol knows I'm submissive, though. It's not my job to make the first move. If he wants me back, that's up to him. There'd be nothing worse than calling him and finding out he's lost interest. I couldn't handle that. Besides, he's probably sampling other partners as I speak. Maybe he's even found someone permanent. Maybe he ...

She sighed heavily.

_Shut up, Meadow. You're being immature. Sometimes, things don't work out. It's no one's fault. It's just the way it is. Also, be happier for your cousin. Jealousy doesn't suit you. _

The mouse quietly watched a helicopter flying low over downtown. There was a heliport nearby. And several news stations. She wasn't sure which one of them it belonged to. The chopping of the blades echoed off the various buildings. As the sound faded, she could hear the music from downstairs. Sounded like a country-western song? The lyrics weren't important. They were all the same. Probably about love, God, and booze. And the troops. She smirked. And lots of chattering voices, too. The guests were having a good time. How many of them are drunk by now?

"Half," she guessed.

And what about you?

"What about me?" She looked down at her ring-less paw.

Are you having a good time?

"Didn't we just go over that?"

You tell me. I think you're becoming mentally unhinged. There's hundreds of furs beneath you and you're up on the roof talking to yourself? Uh-huh ...

She waved a paw at the air, dismissively.

It waved back by blowing at and under her dress. Whoosh! A warm, swirling gust. "Eek!" She cutely danced around, tail flailing. The air stimulated her nether regions, too, but that was neither here nor there. She blushed and pushed her clothes back down. "I'm not Marilyn Monroe!"

This dress is too much.

She ran her paws over the fabric.

It's more expensive than half my wardrobe at home combined. Predominantly white with luminescent folds, it hugged her figure at the top before loosening into flowing folds at the bottom. She also had a blue bow in her head-fur and another mid-way down her pink, prehensile tail. I feel so girly. She'd always been feminine, of course. But not stereotypically so. She liked sports. Some of them, anyway. She couldn't bake anything from scratch more complicated than a coffee cake. This was the first time she'd worn a dress since ... the last wedding she'd been to? Maybe?

She was rarely this gussied up.

I look pretty, though. I feel pretty, too.

She smiled and stepped away from the railing, spreading her furry arms and twirling in a slow, impromptu circle beneath the city's glowing shadow. I am pretty, aren't I? It felt good. She began to hum. I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gay! She stopped. "Only, not the 'sex' gay, the 'happy' gay." As long as that was clear. Old songs could be confusing like that. Right! Gotcha! She chittered and counted, "One, two, three." She then began to outright twirl and picked up her humming where she left off: And I pity any girl who isn't me today! I feel charming , oh, so charming. It's alarming how charming I feel! I'm so pretty that I can hardly believe I'm-

"West Side Story?"

Meadow stumbled to a halt, almost toppling over. Her dress fluttered. Her arms cart-wheeled. Balance maintained, she froze in place and her eyes went wide. She turned around slowly, twitching from nose to tail. And she saw him. Oh, God, oh, God! I'm not alone. Her ears immediately burned beet red. Her cheeks, too, though it couldn't be seen through her fur. She'd never been so embarrassed!

"Hello to you, too." The amused male bowed his head.

She hadn't heard the rooftop access door open! It was a heavy door, too. She'd missed it completely. Maybe it was all the city noises. Her keen, sharp ears had been distracted. But, then, so had her mind. There shouldn't be any excuse, though. You let a predator sneak up on you? You fail Prey 101, Meadow! How long had he been up here? Did he arrive before or after she'd started her silly dancing? "Um. Hi. Well. I, uh ... " She backed away, bare foot-paws shuffling. "Yes. Also. Yes?" Her whiskers twitched crazily. She was aware she was speaking gibberish. But not only was he a predatory male. It was even worse than that. He's a cat! A C-A-T!

"Hey," he said, furrowing his brow. It was a prelude to a frown. "Calm down, hun. I don't bite." He sounded hurt by her negative reaction. He held up his large, jet-black paws in apology. "I'm sorry." He wasn't a domestic shorthair, either. No, nothing common like that. He was genuine black panther! A jungle cat.

Meadow hugged herself and looked him over more carefully.

His eyes were a startling, intimidating shade of yellow and his tuxedo jacket, which almost matched his pelt, hid what must've been an impressive display of muscles. He was tall and his build was solid. As a rock. "You alright?" He lowered those paws, slowly. "You can speak, right? Or can you only hum?" he teased. His voice wasn't as gruff as his appearance suggested it would be. There was a carefree, masculine lightness to it. "Honestly, I didn't mean to startle you. You were already dancing when I arrived. I didn't have the heart to intrude." Watching a mouse wriggle around had been instinctually fascinating to the feline. Almost hypnotic. And it didn't hurt that she was cute as a button.

"I'm, uh, more embarrassed than scared," Meadow finally muttered, absently smoothing at her dress. "I may have overreacted." She tried not to stare at him. He was handsome. Literally a tall, dark stranger. "Also, I'm hyped up on sugar."

"Yeah, there's a pretty nice spread on that dessert table." He chuckled. "We'll just call it a misunderstanding," he decided with an easy smile. "It was a good song choice, by the way. You do look pretty."

She looked down. Her ears pulsed. "Thanks." That felt good to hear. She hadn't heard that since Sol had ... well ...

"I didn't think anyone else would be up here. It was just getting so crowded down in the ballroom. I needed some air," the panther said, putting his paws in his pockets and rocking back and forth.

"Yeah. Me, too." Meadow turned away from him and went back to the railing. She was beginning to relax. _He seems nice enough. You shouldn't have been so quick to judge!_Instinct was a powerful thing, though. It was hard to control. What were furs but animals with car keys?

"You been up here long? I don't recognize you." He removed his paws from his pockets.

"Fifteen minutes, maybe? Probably longer. I get lost in thought and lose track of time," she admitted.

"Nothing wrong with that," he replied.

"To answer your question, I was in the wedding." She skipped a beat, wondering if that might jog his memory. "Bridesmaid."

"Ah, yeah? I was sitting in the back of the room. Cheap seats. Should've brought binoculars."

"Heh. You didn't miss much."

"Mm. Seen one wedding, seen them all, right? The only differences are the songs they play and the food they serve." His angular ears cocked subtly. An engine revved loudly not too far away.

"Pretty much." Speaking of music, she was surprised he'd recognized the tune she'd been humming. It was nearly sixty years old. "You like musicals?"

He sidled up beside her now, casually folding his arms on the top rail. The breeze was blowing a bit stronger, now. It ruffled his dark head-fur. He arched his figure in a stretchy, sinewy way, a distinctly cat-like motion. "Mm-h. Sorta? I saw West Side Story on stage once. Twice? Back when I was in high school."

"I've only seen the film." I bet he's younger than me ...

"That's good, too. Though a bit too cheesy. Think it could do with a remake." His fluffy tail snaked about. "If you're a bridesmaid, you must know the bride. What's your relation?"

"We're cousins," Meadow said, biting her lower lip with her prominent buckteeth.

"Yeah, you both ... " He gestured at her fur.

"I'm a harvest mouse."

"Ah. Right. I should've known that. There are so many mice ... or mouses? That's the term you use amongst yourselves, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Mouses, then." He didn't spend much time around them, admittedly. Rats were more common where he came from. "So many of them here. House, meadow, deer. I just thought the golden ones were, well ... golden mouses. What color would you say you were?"

"Golden, yeah. But not a 'golden mouse.' It's, um ... we're a bit shorter." She wasn't used to explaining the differences. No one ever asked. "Our tails are prehensile. Our fur is a bit richer? Kinda like ripened wheat. I think so, anyway. I guess I'm biased."

"Didn't realize it was so complicated!" The panther grinned, revealing his sharp, glistening teeth. "Us feline types are pretty easy to distinguish. Heh. Spots, stripes, tan ... black," he said, gesturing at himself. "Though as for your color, I'd peg you closer to butterscotch." It was getting steadily darker, though, as night fell. She almost looked like toffee in such low light. Practically edible.

She beamed. "Butterscotch?" Is he flirting with me? Does it matter? It's not like you're going to stop him if he is. "I like that. I've used it myself on occasion."

"It's as perfect a description as any. Makes one salivate."

"One?" she wondered shyly. "Or you?"

He just winked and purred.

"So. Um. Why are you here?" she asked him curiously. He didn't exactly blend in. "You said it yourself. This reception is rodent heavy."

"I'd noticed." He chuckled, tapping the side of his nose. "I'm a friend of the groom. We were roommates in college."

"Really?" She tilted her head. "I didn't know that. But, then, I don't really know the groom, so ... "

"Mm-hmm. Well, it wasn't just us. It was three or four of us at any given time, all guys, first in the dorms and then in a house we rented. But he and I remained friends. Not best friends. But, you know, we keep in touch."

"I don't keep in touch with anyone from school. High school or college," Meadow said. She wasn't sure if she regretted that or not.

"They all move away?"

"Some of them. Some have kids and are no longer on the 'friend market.' Too busy. Which they probably are, but I like to subscribe to the notion that if something or someone is important enough to you, you make the time. If not, you don't. So, I'm just not important to any of them." She hated being told someone was 'too busy' for her. There's that bitterness again. Calm down. "Plus, I don't live in town. Most of them were ... or are," she corrected, "townies. So, I'm outside the cultural and social bubbles. I'm a free agent." Or was it free radical? Maybe both.

"Yeah, I hear ya."

"Eh, sorry for rambling just then. I'm ... I do that, sometimes," she mumbled. She felt flooded with nervous energy. Was it the sugar? Or her new acquaintance?

"No, no, it's okay. Really," he insisted gently.

She considered asking him 'what do you do,' but that was such a glib, generic question. A fur wasn't defined by his work. He was defined by who he was. So, instead, she asked, "Are you from Indiana?" He had the slightest of accents.

"Nah. Chicago."

"Right." Thought so. "I've been there a few times, mostly to museums. I remember seeing a Monet exhibit back in the early 90's? My grandmother brought me." She paused. Her grandparents had passed away not too long ago. "Long lines. I'm not sure if any of his most famous pieces were there." She couldn't really comment on anything beyond that. "I'm a lifelong Hoosier. I don't live in here, though, in the city. I'm ... " She pointed past the skyline. "More toward the countryside. Northwest."

"Must be nice. Being that close to nature." The panther drunk in the night sky. Deep blues and other dark, purpling hues, all seguing to some form of black. His eyes easily adjusted to it. You couldn't see the stars. Too much artificial shimmer. All of the buildings were aglow.

"I guess? I mean, it is," she said. She heard that a lot when she talked to city furs. "Unfortunately, I've been around nature too long to objectively appreciate it. I see it all day, every day. Well, when I'm not at work," she amended. "It's just so familiar that it becomes unremarkable." Her whiskers twitched. Or maybe it's just Indiana. This place is so flat and agriculture-heavy. It's not like there are mountains or canyons or lakes or rivers or anything traditionally majestic."Sounds like I'm complaining. I like my home more than this," she said, nodding at the city. "It's just-"

"You mold yourself to your surroundings." He nodded sagely. "Adaptation. Things that were exotic and different become normal and usual. You're, uh ... what's the word I'm looking for?" He glanced at her face. It was bathed in shadow and glowing lights both green and red. With white mixed in. He affirmed that, yes, she was cute. He hadn't been imagining it. "Acclimated."

"Right. That's it."

"Well, if you think this is a 'city' ... " He chuckled, shaking his head. "This is nothin'." It was provincial compared to back home, as well as other places he'd visited.

"I feel like everyone is worldlier than me," Meadow said.

"It's mostly circumstance. If we switched spots, you'd adjust to my life. I'd adjust to yours. There'd be some heavy nerves at first. The unknown is always scary. Pretty soon, though, it'd be no big deal and you'd wonder why you were worried. In some ways, one's environment is one's partner. It's like with lovers," he added, clasping his fingers together. "Everything's special and sparkly when you first meet, but over time it becomes sorta ... " He tilted his head. "You know. Everything evens out and levels off eventually. You can't sustain eternal excitement. It would be exhausting."

"I was just thinking about that. Or something like it. How absurd it is that we all need our love, especially new love, constantly validated ... "

"Well, that's animal nature," the panther said, gripping the railing again. He pushed against it, showing off his strength. "You want to belong. You want to matter to the group. If you do, you're more secure. Safety in numbers. Safety, in turn, gives you more time to pursue your desires. But you always want more. What you have is never enough." The look in his eyes suggested he was speaking from experience.

"Are you saying we can't ever be happy?"

"Oh, we can." He eased up, slouching back. "But it's transient. If we were happy all the time, we'd never get anything done. What would be the motivation? Discontent and yearning trigger forward momentum. Happiness triggers rest and contemplation. Well, usually. I think that's given rise to 'rage culture.' Being angry gives furs purpose, gives them something 'productive' to do. Or presents the illusion of it, anyway. Being happy forces them into quietude, and maybe they're afraid of that, because deep down they aren't comfortable with themselves? I mean ... heh, I sound like an amateur psychologist. Yeah. I'm kind of full of it sometimes." Was he trying to impress her? Maybe. He'd only admit to that if it was working.

"It's okay. Really. I think it's interesting," Meadow said.

He purred. "Mm-h. We're all different, ultimately. You can't ascribe a set of behaviors to everyone. But there are certain patterns."

"Well, I fit all the patterns of your stereotypical mouse, I'm afraid." She sounded more despondent than she'd intended.

"Bet you don't," he insisted smoothly.

"What makes you say that?" She looked into his eyes. They were so beguiling.

"Your stereotypical mouse wouldn't be alone with a jungle cat." He reached over and brushed his paw against hers. "Would she?"

"I ... I was pounced," she defended. But she didn't move her paw away.

"Heh. Mm-h."

Meadow's dishy ears swiveled at his purrs. She'd never heard any from this close before. Just a foot or two away. The noises were so distinctly enchanting, almost therapeutic, and were lulling her into a sense of ease. Lulling? Just because he's a predator doesn't mean he's got an ulterior motive, Meadow. They're nice. He's nice ...

"I've felt out of place all weekend," he confessed to her. "Not just because I'm the only black panther here. But weddings ... marriage? It's just not my scene."

"What is your 'scene'?" Meadow wondered. His paw was so warm. It easily covered her own. And his thumb was wagging over her wrist.

He briefly withdrew his paw and stepped back, smoothly slipping out of his tux jacket. He carefully set it aside. "I like my freedom."

"You don't think you can have freedom and love at the same time?" She wondered what he looked like under that shirt. She imagined him flexing and all the buttons popping off. She imagined his claws unsheathing and slicing through her dress. What's getting into you? Stop it!

"You can." He came up behind her, now. His arms slowly encircled her middle. "Mm-h. That's not quite what I mean, though. Why love just one fur? Why can't you love ... " He blew at one of her ears and felt her shiver. "I don't know. Three, four furs at once?"

Her eyes hooded lazily before opening back up. "So, you're saying you're, uh ... poly ... no, uh ... " She was having a hard time thinking. "Polyamorous?"

"Something like that," he breathed.

"I see. So, you ... you're an open-breeder?" She tried not to stammer. Homer was an open-breeder. I bred with him. I'm okay with that. I'm not a prude. So why am I blushing? Why can't I speak properly?

"Well, not exactly. I guess everyone defines things differently, but to me, an open-breeder is someone who breeds whoever, whenever. They have no lasting emotional attachment. Maybe it exists in the moment, but it's not a relationship. Polyamory, you have multiple regular partners. You have an affection for them. You have relationships with them. But you're not necessarily exclusive to them. Or maybe you are. Like I said ... " He nipped at her nape. "Everyone's different. Nature's all about diversity ... "

"Uh-huh." She squeaked airily. "I'm, uh, not sure I could emotionally accommodate that many partners at once, though. I'm better when I can specifically focus on ... s-someone." For all the railing you did on weddings, you're awfully traditional in your relationship views, Meadow. Hypocrite. Her whiskers twitched. _ _

"I'm not surprised." He began rubbing her shoulders, massaging her. Loosening her up. "You're submissive."

"Mm-h." His paws were so strong. She melted at the coiled power of his touch. "What makes you say that?"

"It's pretty easy to tell, hun." He chuckled. "And I understand. Dealing with so many personality types simultaneously can be overwhelming if you're on the passive side of the spectrum. I've always been ... well, not exclusively dominant, per say. I lean that way. But I like to think I'm more of a switch. I'm definitely confident." He purred. That was for sure.

"I admire that." As they talked, the city began fading away. She knew it was still there. And she knew the wedding reception was still taking place in the very building they stood atop of. But, more and more, she was only aware of the panther. The dark feline was a void that was sucking everything in, and she was helpless to resist his gravity.

"The way you're talking, I'm betting you're single?" He leaned in closely and kissed her jawline. Then sniffed and nuzzled his way to an ear.

"Y-yeah ... " She felt butterflies in her stomach. Her knees were wobbling. Whatever he's doing, I hope he doesn't stop ...

"If you want to change the subject, we can." He let the option hang. "We can go back to musicals."

"Mm-h, no ... "

"No?" he cooed, grasping her cheek and strumming her whiskers before tilting her head toward his. His raspy tongue licked at the corner of her lips.

She gave a light gasp.

Her muzzle open, he pressed closer and his tongue dove inside. Their lips connected. The kiss was hot and sensual and a little noisy. It seemed to last forever. When it broke, saliva strung between their faces. He used his tongue to sever the string as he pulled back, studying her expression. "You okay?"

She was out of breath. She knew he'd just spoken to her, but she wasn't quite sure what he'd said. It took her a moment. Say something! "I'm fine."

"That you are." The panther leaned in for another kiss. Less tongue this time, more sucking. His lips covering hers, smacking sumptuously. With the shorter, pretty mouse distracted, he began untucking his white, button-up dress shirt from his black, belted pants. His fur matched the night. And hers the day. This wasn't lost on him. "We might be opposites," he said, panting as he broke the kiss, "but there's nothing wrong with that." He began to undo his belt.

Meadow's ears, capillaries showing around the rims, swiveled at the jangling sound. It was hard to miss. Her breasts were heaving.

"Life requires opposites to keep things balanced." He pressed his body to the back of hers so closely, so hotly. He gave a lewd grind. "Day lives for night." Another grind, slow this time. He noticed her long, thin tail was starting to hike up. He grinned. There. That was the cue he was after. It was tacit permission. "Night lives for day." His paws flitted up her dress and groped at her covered breasts. His voice became increasingly husky. "You can't have one without the other."

"Mm ... " It was the only response she could come up with. He was being so poetic, so passionate. It was flooring the easily-seduced rodent. She felt like she was on a cloud. Arousal and adrenaline infused inside her in a heady cocktail.

"You inspire me." He didn't specify in what way. But did he really have to?

"You're just saying that," she managed to murmur.

"Oh, no, hun," he purred. He reeled in her tail with a paw and stroked it slowly, possessively, from base to tip. Over and over again. He undid the blue bow halfway down her appendage. He fastened it to her head, instead, right next to the other one. Between her ears. "You're the only mouse at this party beside the groom who's talked to me for more than a few seconds."

"R-really?"

"You're very sweet. And lovely. You have such a kind soul."

"T-thanks," she blurted, not knowing how else to respond. Then, after a moment, she stammered, "You're lovely, too. I mean ... handsome, not lovely. I mean, you _are_lovely. And you're sweet but in a male, uh, way? Or, like ... something?" She squeaked and trailed off. Her ears arched again. What was that? A zipper? She hadn't imagined that, had she? No. He'd just undone his pants ...

Sure enough, the panther's fancy trousers began sliding down his hips. They didn't stop until they were bunched just below his knees.

Meadow tensed as it dawned on her conscious brain what was about to transpire.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, hugging her tightly from behind. "Just relax." Though he'd never admit it to her, he was incredibly turned on the mouse's twitchy reaction. Predator/prey? Cat/mouse? It was an age-old tension that scratched some ancient, primal itch in him, one he was rarely given the opportunity to indulge. But he wasn't a brute. He respected his lovers. You couldn't have as many partners as he'd had unless you did. Her noticeably raised tail indicated she wanted sex, but he knew he was in the more powerful position. He fished for a verbal confirmation. "You ever been with a feline?"

"No," she replied meekly. She could hear her pulse in her ears. The blood. It had rushed there, as well as to her loins. I'm dizzy. I'm going to faint. He better not let go of me, or I'll fall over like a rag doll.

He stroked at her reassuringly and kept purring. "Would you like to?"

"We're ... we're on the, uh ... "

"Roof? Yeah. We are." He chuckled. His erection only got harder when she reminded him of this. "That's not a no."

"Maybe we should ... " She pointed blindly, looking for a more discreet place to do this. "Maybe ... "

"Nah," he said lightly. "It'll be more fun here. I promise."

"But we're ... I mean, they ... furs on the street!" It's one thing to have a fling in private. In a hotel room or wherever. But out in the open? Are you crazy? "The street," she repeated breathlessly. Anyone could catch glimpse of them at any time. "Or in other buildings, or ... "

"So, what? Maybe we'll get caught. Maybe we won't." He shrugged. She was so flustered. It was such a massive turn-on. "The bride and groom have had their time in the spotlight. We deserve some, too. We're worth it, aren't we?" He sniffed at her scent. Utterly intoxicating. He began to lick at her neck. "I'm a big, strong kitty, hun. I'll protect you. Don't worry. Okay?"

The female struggled to breathe. "Okay ... "

Finally having permission, he began pulling up the back of her dress. "You got anything on under here?" It was mostly a rhetorical question. He was about to find out for himself.

Oh, God, oh, I can't believe this is happening. How do I end up in these situations?

"Hun?"

"Just p-panties ... "

"Mm. Yeah, I feel that, now ... " He growled lightly. "You're wet, too." He rubbed the wet patch in her dainty undergarment and then tugged at the hem, pulling them down her thighs. He rubbed his paw over her sex. "Thick fur. I like that." He unsheathed his claws and looped it around her clitoris extremely carefully. "You feel so hot ... "

"Ah-h ... "

"I know, I know," he cooed. "Good, isn't it? There's more where that came from." Soon, he had her panties around her ankles. "You're gonna need to step out of them to spread your legs. They're not wide enough apart for me to get in."

"Right. Right, I ... um ... " He was being so smooth, so casual. He wasn't the least bit embarrassed by what they were about to do. In public! On a roof in the city! Had he done something like this before?

"Relax," he repeated, fiddling with his own clothing again. His boxers dropped. A happy sigh as, seconds later, he was dragging something hot and hard along her soft, plush little rump. That butterscotch butt. He dotted her fur with beads of pre. "Show me how that tail works. Grab onto me."

"Onto ... ?"

"My hips, mousey." He chuckled. "Sure, I'd like for you to coil that whip around my cock like a snake, but it ... my cock," he said, lowering his voice, "has other places to visit. And we shouldn't dawdle." He wasn't nearly as concerned about getting caught at her, but that didn't mean he wanted to. The longer this took, the more likely someone would find out. Best make it quick.

Meadow looped her prehensile tail around the male's hips as tightly as she could and whispered, "I ... my dress ... " Her throat felt so dry. I'm so horny. I don't remember being this horny before! "It's a rental."

"I won't ruin it. I promise." He kissed one of her earlobes. "I've got something for that." He purred yet again, briefly yanking his pants back up and removing his wallet. He fumbled with it impatiently. She was horny? He was hornier. He removed a tiny, colorful package from one of the flaps. He gave it to her. "Hold this while I put my wallet back."

Her trembling paw took the lightweight square. In the low light, she could just make out the words: 'Bareskin, 40 Percent Thinner! Penis type - Feline.' And, then, in extra small print: 'Barbed for her pleasure!' That last part did it. Meadow began to pant deliriously. I need him. Inside me. Now!

"Heh, thanks, hun," the panther said as he took the package back. He carefully tore it open, discarded the wrapper and poised the ring of 'rubber' above the head of his pre-dripping cock. In a smooth, experienced motion, he covered the bulk of his shaft. He knew he was clean. He assumed she probably was, as well. And he obviously couldn't get her pregnant. But, still. Might as well be safe. And like she'd said: they were both wearing very expensive clothes. He didn't want to risk getting semen over everything.

In addition, the condom would also slightly dull the scratching sensation of his barbs. Since she'd never been with a feline before, he doubted she could handle the unvarnished thing without some slow, gentle practice. Barbs definitely took some getting used to. But there was no time for gentle.

"I'm ... are you ... are," Meadow stammered incoherently. She tried to look behind herself. What's he doing? She could hear but not see. It was much darker than when he'd first arrived.

"I'm right here," he promised, sniffing through her head fur. "Face forward. Grab onto the railing. I'll hold onto you."

She obeyed immediately, the back of her dress hiked up and her legs spread as wide as she could make him. The heels of her bare foot-paws were in the air, body bouncing in anticipation. Her sex was dripping, a slight puddle forming beneath her. Her tail was invisibly looped around his chest like a lifeline. She'd wormed it up under his shirt. She wished she could free her breasts, somehow. They were straining against her clothes with each breath. I want his tongue on my nipples. I want to wrap all my limbs around him. Her fur was starting to mat with sweat, and they hadn't even started yet!

The feline gripped her curvy, feminine hips and dipped his knees. He drank in her body. The parts he could see, anyway. He began grinding under her light, ropy tail, reaching a paw to guide his penis a little lower. He found her folds. So soft, glistening with nectar. The slickness made it easy to push between her petals and even easier to wedge himself into her needy vagina. Her tunnel surrounded him like a glove. Tight and snug. He hilted into it. He'd been under the tails of more species than Meadow would likely be comfortable knowing, but for various, unfortunate reasons, he'd never had mouse pussy before. And here it was when he least expected it! Wasn't life great? "Guh-h, s'good," he mumbled, nodding his approval. Oh, yes! This would do.

Meadow's maw dropped, her buckteeth visibly jutting. She leaned forward, hiking her rump by a few more inches. The panther filled her completely, owning every inch of her sex. She clenched her muscles and pushed back against him, her tail loosening from his waist and snaking further north.

"Wriggle that ass, cutie. Yeah ... " He loved her show of eagerness, and he grunted as he remained at a hilt and savored the feel of her. He emitted loud, rich purrs. It was as if his motor had reached another level. And now that it had, there was no holding him back. Feeling she'd had enough time to adapt, he withdrew to his tip, lingered for a split second, and slammed back in. Her tunnel squelched around his thinly-wrapped essence. The pleasure was no less for the protection, however. She was divine. Squeezing, snugging around him, and, oh, so gloriously hot. Hotter than the June night. Hotter than the day that colored her fur. The feline repeated his motion. Again and again. And again. Again!

"H-hah ... ah," Meadow panted, her smaller figure rocked and bumped forward by the force of his humps. She couldn't keep still. He didn't give her the chance. The dominant male had found his rhythm and was locked into it, sure and steady. Her eyes rolled back. Oh, my ... God! The barbs ...

She realized she was being protected from the full, undiluted effect of them, but it didn't matter. She still felt them. Sharp, pricking. They made her raise up on her tiptoes. They made her whiskers stiffen! She couldn't feel them at all when he thrust forward. It's like they weren't there. So, her body would relax. But as soon as he pulled back, they revealed themselves by flaring and digging into her smooth, muscular walls, scratching her relentlessly, causing her to tense up all over again. It hurt at first. She couldn't lie. But, soon, she began to feel inexplicably feverish. She'd heard feline barbs 'scratched' females into false heats. She'd always assumed that was an exaggeration.

The big cat felt her body responding to his unique physiology and educated her. "You know you want it," he huffed firmly. "You feel like you're in heat, and you want more ... the desire's swarming through you, isn't it? Like a host of hornets? Stings of ... mm-h. Mm! Pleasure." He pulled back as he said this, the word dripping off his tongue. The barbs scratched her again. The condom held, however. "Just imagine if I took you bare ... "

Oh, I'm imagining it. Fantasies swum through her head. They were in bed, on a couch. A kitchen table. They were outdoors, in a field. Moonlight, sunlight. They were doing it everywhere. Missionary, doggy-style. He was taking her bareback, and she was squealing, and ...

The panther's paws began moving, rubbing her sides through her dress. He had to fight the urge to claw at her.

The back of her garment already hiked, and she carefully bunched up the front as well. Her clitoris was buzzing. She had to touch it. She just had to touch it! So, she did, chittering as she rubbed it haphazardly. The world seemed to spin. The city tilted before them. Her head rolled back. Is it the barbs? Is it the randomness of him being a total stranger? Is it doing it in public? What was making this so good? Who cares, Meadow!

The black panther was still purring. But he was beginning to mew, as well. "Mm-h, mm ... "

In her haze, the harvest mouse almost missed a brief, white flash. It pierced the night and lengthened their undulating shadows. Almost as if the door to the roof had opened behind them, spilling incandescent light upon her and the panther's rutting backsides, maybe? Perhaps? But by the time Meadow nervously half-glanced over her shoulder, the light, if it had ever been there, was gone. It was totally dark up save for the glow of skyscraper windows and streetlights. And she was still being humped. And it was still amazing. You're just being paranoid. No one's going to catch us. It's almost over anyway. I'm close. She whined, pitifully. _So close! _

"Oh-h, fuck, yeah," the feline growled, hammering away now. His penis had started to tingle. Restraint became foreign to him. Willpower was gone. "Yes!" Their loins slapped together audibly, his tight, swollen sac damp with her fluids. His cock twitched inside its jacket. He kept going. He needed more! Fur against fur, flesh against flesh. Slap, slap, slap! The sound faintly echoed across the rooftop. Anybody walking on the sidewalk below surely would've been able to hear it. "C-come on, h ... ah. Hah. Hun," he huffed, words broken up by moans. "Waiting for you ... " He wanted her to cum first. He found it more satisfying that way.

She didn't need much urging to get there. She was already on the edge. His words, like feathers, were enough to tip her over. The way he whispered into her large, sensitive ears, and how his raspy tongue dragged along the thin rims? And those barbs? The sheer power of his hips? She was so, so hot, almost breathless. She wanted to burst! And, so, she did. It began with a trickle. And then a gush. She began to squeak!

"H-hah, ah, my, a squirter?" he hissed. "Oh, that's hooottt," he drawled, digging his claws into her golden-furred sides. She was wriggling around him. It only made him want to be rougher. It was exhilarating. Cat on mouse! He began ravaging her. "I'm almost there!"

Meadow arched, twisting about, blindsided by bliss. She'd never squirted quite like that! Not even close. The barbs must've had something to do with it. But she couldn't give it much thought because fireworks of ecstasy were shooting through her, sparking in her brain. Her nerves lit up. She gasped, squeaking incessantly. "Oh-h, g-gah ... gah!" Her sex shuddered and squeezed around his intruding member, milking him for all he was worth.

Loving that he'd brought the mouse to orgasm, the black panther rumbled and hilted himself as deeply as he could manage. His balls ached. They were soaked. Eyes closing, his fanged, sharp-tongued maw hanging open, he began gyrating in a slow, sensual circle. "Ooh ... ooh, mousey," he meowed as he lost it. "Mousey!" His cock jerked. Hard, violent jerks, spitting burst after burst of seed. The white cream pooled into the condom's tapered reservoir and expanded it. "Hah," he panted, slumping on the mouse's back. Seconds passed. And then it was over. "Damn ... "

Meadow lowered her arms and leaned her front against the railing. She could faintly hear voices on the street below. 'Did you hear that?' 'Where are those noises coming from?' 'Hey, that sounded like ... ' She scooted away from the edge of the building with rising embarrassment, nuzzling back against the cat's chest. He smelled good. I can't believe I just did that. But, then, she had a habit lately of doing things she never thought she'd do. That was a good thing, right? Perhaps it was a sign of growth.

The panther peppered her head and neck with kisses. "That was awesome," he said approvingly.

"Yeah." It was a lame, monosyllabic response. But it was all she could think of. The afterglow was thick.

The panther lingered briefly before carefully pulling his hips back. There was a slurp as his cock bobbled free. He huffed, the fur on his nape standing on end. It was very sensitive post-coitus.

Meadow twisted around to get a look. She licked her lips. That's a gorgeous cock. I wish I could hold it in my paw. I want to suck it. She swallowed as she saw the volume of his release. How did the condom not break?

As if it were the most casual thing in the world, the cat rolled the 'rubber' up and off his penis and tossed it aside. It hit the cement with a plop. "You need to sit down?" he asked.

"No, I'm ... I don't want to get my dress dirty," she said shyly, watching his cock faintly twitch in the breeze. She closed her legs. Her loins still felt funny in all the best ways. "I'll wait 'til I get inside." She was gonna have to sit down soon, though. I need to regain my bearings.

"M'kay," he slurred, pulling his boxers back up. His inky loins disappeared from sight. Legs, too, as his pants were lifted and zipped. He secured his belt. And, lastly, he slipped back into his tuxedo jacket.

All Meadow had to do was pull her panties back up. Which she did, awkwardly. It was one thing to have a guy remove them. Putting them back on in front of him was a little less erotic. "I, uh ... " She was about to thank him when she realized something. "I don't know your name." You fucked someone without knowing their name?! Meadow! Do you have no standards?

"Dayton," he offered warmly, a large, black paw cupping her cheek.

"I'm Meadow," she whispered vulnerably, nuzzling into his paw-pad.

"Lovely," he murmured, moving a finger across her lips. "Mm. You were good, baby."

"So were you." She blushed and cleared her throat, nibbling on his digit. Then she stopped. That might be too affectionate. This was just a fling. "Thank you, Dayton, for ... I mean ... "

He pulled his paw back and chuckled. "Think nothing of it." He shrugged. "It was my pleasure."

"Mine, too." It was clear that Meadow was far less comfortable parting ways than Dayton was. Look, it was fun. It was great! It can be left at that. No need to get emotional. Right? But she just couldn't help it. Her eyes watered. Why am I such a stupid sap? She'd been alone on this roof half an hour ago, lamenting how single she was, how she couldn't make connections. Then she'd made one out of the blue. And, just as quickly, it was going away! It wasn't fair. She supposed that brevity added to the preciousness of life. But screw brevity. Screw me, instead! Tonight and tomorrow and the next day and ...

"Well." Dayton rolled his shoulders and reached for the sky. "Mm." He stretched. A few joints popped. "Ooh. Heh." Hunched over in 'rutting' posture had cramped him up a bit. With a final sigh, he relaxed and gave the mouse a big, beaming smile. "I suppose we best get back to the party. We may not be the guests of honor, but someone's bound to notice our absences eventually."

Meadow just nodded. "Right ... "

"Cheer up, Meadow."

"I'm sorry. That was really fun," she insisted. "I just ... I'm weird."

"Nah. You're just a romantic. You're gonna make some male very happy for a long, long time someday. And not just because you've got a dynamite pussy," he said with a wink. "But because of all the extra you've got here ... " He touched a paw above her heart. "And here." And then he touched her head.

She had to wipe at her eyes and turn away when he said this. Her whiskers quivered. _Calm down._After taking a few stabilizing breaths, she reached for his paw and squeezed it. "Thanks."

"Welcome, hun." He bowed, giving a friendly wave. "See ya!" He then sauntered away, tail fluffing about as he moved for the rooftop door, opened it, and disappeared forever.

"Mm." The harvest mouse exhaled and turned around. What a day. What a night. Her ears perked at the sound of chopping blades. Another one of those helicopters was circling in. How long had it been up there? Her whiskers twitched. She hoped she hadn't just been on the 10-o'clock news. 'Breaking: Aerial Footage of Predator/Prey Relations!' Glancing at the gooey, spent condom on the ground, the mouse blushed. Relation. Single.

Single.

Like me.

But, hey, if it comes with sex like that, I'm all for it!

She smiled.

You're getting lewder with age, you know that?

She rubbed at her eyes and nodded. Maybe it wasn't that she was getting lewder. Maybe she was just getting more comfortable in her own fur? _ _

I better return to the celebration. I'll stop at the restroom first and pat myself down.

As she walked back to the door, the butterscotch mouse began to impulsively hum and twirl again, her naked tail acting as a counterbalance as she leaned to and fro. If she felt pretty earlier, she felt even prettier now. She still had some afterglow left. So what if you're a bit girly tonight? Or any night? It certainly didn't hurt things with Dayton.

When she got inside, she descended down the stairs and took a left. She stopped at a water fountain and drank for nearly a minute. She'd worked up quite a thirst! Afterward, she kept moving. There were restrooms on the second floor, behind a balcony overlooking the main ballroom. Once there, she peeked out over the crowd. Still busy, at full strength. She wondered how late this party would go? The tables were still loaded with food and lots of tails were shaking to and fro on the dance floor in the middle. Really? She giggled and shook her head. My dancing was way better.

"Meadow!"

"What?" She jumped in surprise. Then twitched. "Oh. Azalea." It was the maid of honor. The bride's sister. She was also a harvest mouse but, in Meadow's opinion, a bit uppity. "Hey, uh ... I was just about to use the bathroom, see?" She pointed. Then went and pushed open the door, ducking inside. Her tail curled to the side a little guiltily. Maybe she won't follow me ...

"I'll join you," Azalea insisted, as females were wont to do.

Meadow grumbled. _Great._She stopped at a sink and cupped her paws under the automatic spout. Once she had enough water, she splashed her face several times. After how hot she'd gotten up on the roof, it was incredibly refreshing. She then grabbed a fancy dry towel off a nearby rack and wet half of it. She wrung it out and began dabbing it at her neck and rubbing it down her arms.

Azalea, paws on hips, gave her a stern look.

"What? I'm sweaty," Meadow defended.

"And I'm shocked!"

Meadow looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirrors. For as wild a ride as Dayton took me on, I don't look that disheveled. "Huh? What do you-"

"I went up to the roof to take a picture of the skyline on my phone ... "

Meadow covered her face entirely with the damp, white cloth. Uh-oh. She then lowered it gradually, peeking over the top. "W-what?"

Azalea crossed her arms. "Do you know what I saw?"

Meadow's heart hammered in her breasts. "No?" she lied hopefully, her voice catching. She suddenly remembered the light, the brief flash of light. The door had opened. She hadn't imagined it. Dammit!

"I saw my cousin, my dear younger cousin ... " Azalea put a paw over her heart, shaking her head and closing her eyes. She was very good at being offended by things. "I saw you," she emphasized, "engaged in carnal acts with a burly predator!"

"Oh. That." Meadow's ears went pale. She's going to tell everyone, right? I'm going to be Scarlet Lettered. "Um, how much detail did you see, exactly?"

"Well, not as much I want- ... I mean, could've." The other mouse cleared her throat. "It was dark. Just glimpses of this and that. But I'm not stupid! I know what's what when it's up."

Meadow blinked. "Huh?"

"Of course, my first thought was, no, not gentle Meadow, not shy, quiet Meadow! I naturally assumed that you were being ... " The older mouse's eyes darted about with discretion. "Well, that he was ... " She faltered again. She couldn't bring herself to say it. "Taking advantage of you," she settled upon. "I was going to call for help! But then I heard the sounds you were making. They didn't sound like cries of distress."

Meadow took a deep breath, clearly flustered. I'm such a squeaker. "Right. Uh. Well ... "

Azalea gave her cousin a steamed looked. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you want me to say?" Meadow echoed meekly, spreading her paws. She'd give anything for this conversation to end!

"That you're sorry! This is my sister's night, the biggest night of her entire life. You're lucky I'm the only one that saw it, because if word had gotten out, it would've spread like wildfire and upstaged the newlyweds." Azalea's whiskers quivered. "You don't know how temperamental my sister is. Why do you think this wedding is so fancy? She wants to be the center of attention. If you'd eclipsed her-"

"But I didn't!" Meadow snapped.

"What would even compel you to do such a thing?" Azalea asked bewilderedly. "At a wedding? In public? With a cat?" She made each qualification seem more damning than the last.

"I don't know. It just ... it just happened!" Meadow stammered desperately. She took a few stabilizing breaths. "I'm an adult female who happens to enjoy physical intimacy. So, what? Did I get a bit adventurous in the name of that enjoyment? Yes. But it didn't hurt anyone." She struggled to quell her emotions. "Sometimes, you have to do something a little 'bad' just to remind yourself that you're alive." She hugged herself and glanced into the mirror. "I needed that reminder tonight." _ _

Azeala sucked at her cheek and huffed, nodding stiffly. "Mm. That's that, I guess?"

"Yes, it is," Meadow muttered embarrassedly, looking back at her cousin.

The two golden-furred, female mouses stared each other down, whiskers twitching and squeaking lowly. An outsider might've found the confrontation ridiculously cute.

"Anything else?" Meadow asked. She really wanted to be alone right now.

"Well, now that my official reprimand as maid of honor is out of the way ... " Azalea's eyes darted. She smiled curiously. "How was it? Good?" Her eyes seemed to light up. "I didn't see much, but he seemed to have a muscular ass!"

Meadow blinked in surprise. "You ... you're not mad at me?"

"We're furs, Meadow." Azalea giggled and rolled her eyes. Her frown momentarily returned. "I am_upset you nearly upstaged my sister, but ... " Just like that, the smile came back. "I don't blame you for lifting your tail. I would've done ... well, what all _did you do, exactly?" She wanted details! She grabbed for Meadow's paws and held to them supportively.

"It was ... " Meadow struggled for words. She lowered her voice. I can't believe I'm admitting this. "Easily one of the most intense orgasms of my life."

Azalea's eyes widened.

"Well, uh, not the most emotionally satisfying," Meadow amended quickly. "But very intense. You know?" There was a difference. "And he wasn't even bare, either. But it didn't seem to matter."

Dimples showed on Azalea's furry cheeks. "How were the barbs, though? I've heard stories ... "

Meadow giggled bashfully. "Oh, um, they ... well ... by the way, is there any alcohol left down there? In the ballroom?"

"Plenty."

"Get us a few glasses, and I'll tell you all about it," she promised. She was too shy to detail her experience completely sober.

Her cousin released her paws and drifted toward the door. "Meet you downstairs, by the big windows facing downtown?"

"Right." Meadow paused. "Azalea?"

"Mm?" she went as she pushed open the bathroom door.

"Thanks a lot," Meadow muttered shyly, biting her lower lip. "For keeping this a secret."

"What are cousins for?" the other mouse said with a friendly smile. "Besides, if I let anyone know, your panther would be swarmed with girls! Assuming he's, uh, still here." Her ears flushed. Perhaps she'd seek him out ... er, uh, bump into him as everyone filtered to the hotels? You know. Maybe.

"Heh. Yeah. I doubt he'd refuse them, either," Meadow quietly quipped. Dayton seemed like the type who could recharge fairly quickly. "Hey, is there any croquembouche left?"

"I think so. Why?"

Meadow smiled without restraint.

I love weddings!