FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Morning."

Cade stopped at the foot of the stairs, peering into the adjacent room through the open door. Molly's voice rang out to him like a siren's song. Soothing. Just what he needed after a rough night's sleep. The bed had been uncomfortably empty since he woke.

He drew his phone up and pointed it her way. Recording the moment for posterity. Taking a cautious step forward, he approached and spoke:

“Hey you."

Molly was kneeling on a yoga map, running through her morning stretches. The padded surface of the mat bent and bowed with her movements — a variety of practised poses effortlessly achieved by her supple body. Experience plus hybrid genetics proves a powerful combo.

“Are you...are you filming me!?" his lover growled, her sentence carrying a subtle warning beneath it's playful tone: don't push it. Its message fell on deaf ears. Either that or Cade wanted to torment her a bit before breakfast.

She sighed, looked away, and returned to her stretches. The tight grey of her gym shorts slipped up her rear as she leaned forward, her stubby tail waggling between monochrome-clad cheeks.

“It's just for fun," Cade said, getting closer.

Molly switched things up and rose, her head and chest straightening and formed a new pose. One of hands on hips and a heavy frown.

“What?" her boyfriend asked.

“You know, we have a strict no-recording policy at the club. And bouncers with the fangs to back it up."

“Meaning?"

“You've had your fun, hon. Now turn if off and let's grab a bite to eat."

“Fine," Cade replied, swiping the device with his thumb. A residual smirk decorated his face, one Molly saw mischief in.

“Hey now — don't send that to anyone."

“What? Fuck no, this is for personal use only. On those cold, cold nights when you leave me all on my lonesome — heartbreaker!"

“Breadwinner," she corrected him, sticking out her tongue afterwards in a show of dominance.

He sighed. “Just 'cause you earn more doesn't mean you can claim that role Molls."

“Yeah, yeah...seriously though, don't," she said, nodding in the direction of Cade's phone. “Not even as a joke."

“I...I won't," said Cade, startled by her words.

Molly headed into the kitchen, nudging past him and reaching the fridge first. The rustle of cereal spurred rumbling in his belly as the lack of food started to take it's toll. But another feeling tied him up in knots: concern...

“Is there something wrong?" he asked.

“Huh?"

“I didn't think you'd react that badly to me taking a video of you."

She rubbed her head. “Yeah, so I get that you wanted to be cute. Any other day, sure...but I've been distracted."

“By what?"

“Work stuff."

“What kind of 'work stuff'."

With their breakfasts in hand, the pair made their way to the counter-top, finding a stool each and settling in for some heart-to-heart conversation.

“Nothing major. It's hard to explain."

“If you don't want to share that's okay, I —"

She cut him off. “Rebecca's been on my ass lately about doing side gigs outside work with her." She sounded flustered. “I thought she'd be satisfied with a 'maybe some other time' but she just...won't...stop...texting me! It's getting annoying."

Cade stayed quiet,a pensive look on his face, and let her continue:

“Why don't you try camming, you can make a load of money, you can set your own hours...blah-blah-blah. I like working at the club, the last thing I think I want to do is bring my work online and lose what precious anonymity my job at Violetta provides."

“Well if you're not comfortable doing it them tell her. What's she gonna do, she's just a coworker?"

“I've tried to be...diplomatic about it." She chuckled. “I know it sounds fucking stupid to say given that I'm a stripper, Cade, but the stage...the booths. You can disguise yourself. Dressing up is all part of the allure. I like my job. I..."

She paused, biting her cheek and mumbling. Cade frowned and concentrated. She noticed his troubles, and slowed her pace. Her words soon cleared up, but their meaning had something left to be desired.

“I like...she's...I don't have the right way of phrasing it."

Cade reached over and held her hand. This small touch set her mind straight, but before she could articulate what was bothering her he beat her to it:

“It sounds like being annoyed at Rebecca is a diversion — you're not saying what you really mean, are you? Be honest, this is more about Violet than anyone else, isn't it?"

She relented. “Yes, yeah it is."

“What's wrong? Really?"

“Look Cade, a lot's changed for me. I've been thinking about my future again. Our future. Vi's been good to me, as a friend and then as a boss. I've made good money with her. I haven't jeopardised anything by being tied to a strip club, however popular. But at some point in the future this is going to end. I'm going to move on, with a head full of pleasant memories and a network of friends and former colleagues among the 'alumni' of Violetta, and I was wondering how much longer we'll be..."

“Oh," Cade said softly, his gaze wandering. “That's a lot more than being annoyed at someone's text messages."

“It is," she replied, laughing, “god...I shouldn't have thrown her under the bus! She's cool. A little on the dumb side, but cool."

“So, you're planning for a future outside the club. Is Vi blocking that?"

“It feels like it. Not consciously. I'm certain she'd bid me a fond farewell and send me on my way with a decent severance — especially with the money and attention I've brought in. But a boss is a boss. Whether they're your friend or not."

At that moment, her phone dinged. She picked it up from her bag that sat on one of the free stools, and cursed. Cade watched her head fall into her hands.

“Okay. Bear with me...I know I said I was being harsh on Becca...but she's gone and sent me fifteen more messages since last night! Fuck me!"

Cade laughed. “Turn it to silent and talk to me, Molls. If she thinks you're ignoring her that's her problem."

“Heh, yeah," she said while idly fidgeting with the touchscreen. “Can't keep me away from couples' therapy."

“I have a question."

“Shoot."

“Do you want this to continue? Life with me?"

“What the fuck kinda question is that to ask, Cade!?"

“An earnest one."

She stumbled over her speech. “I..."

Cade looked upset. “You started this conversation bitching about something that wasn't the actual issue; then, once we got somewhere we got derailed right back to where we started."

“I'm hungry. I've only had three spoonfuls of cereal. I'm not in the right mood to answer that."

“Why not, Molls? I want to be able to plan my future just as much as you do. You're a part of it — or at least I'd like you to be. The last thing I want is for this to turn into an argument."

“Keep at it and we'll get there."

“Hey, listen." Cade adopted a conciliatory tone. “Did I upset you by recording? I'm sorry."

“What? No, no! You're fine...it's fine...that's not what we're arguing about."

“So now it is an argument?"

“It's a discussion."

“We've had discussions before, Molls. Very deep ones in fact. This is an argument." Cade left his seat and walked around the counter to her. His arm wrapped around her waist as she took a deep breath. “Let's cool down a bit, huh? You and me."

“Let's."

“Okay. Good. First thing's first: we can have a future together. If you feel like we're stagnating we can switch it up — new jobs, new part of the country, new hobbies. We can do that. But only if you want to."

“Like I said: I like my job at the club." Molly breathed then cleared her throat, the crisp air creeping in from an open window filling her lungs, spreading its bristling chill to her insides. “To uproot it along with the life I'm building with you would be too much. I want to plan for one or the other, not both."

“Totally understandable. I'm in the same boat."

“I feel like I would let Vi down by leaving, and that's nagging at me whenever I try to plan."

“She's got a whole stable of dancers, waitstaff, and plenty of others. Don't let that weight sit on these shoulders. Just because she's an old friend doesn't mean you need to sacrifice for her," Cade said as he laid his hands on her shoulders, his grip clenching around the fur-covered joints and squeezing.

Molly moaned under his firm touch. A small tender noise, escaping her lips moment's before her brain found the wherewithal to seal them.

“Feel good?"

“Mm-hmm."

“You can take these things one step at a time," Cade said, massaging her, gently avoiding the straps of her sports bra. “We make a good pair. I'll admit...I am the more boring half."

“Don't say that babe," Molly cooed, revelling in his tender touch, “you're just what I need. A steady hand. Hands..."

“Thanks. Heh...now onto Violet herself. Why don't you have a chat with her when the time is right? Square things away all neat and tidy. Get that severance you seem to think you're owed if you do want to leave." He made that last remark with enough sarcasm to avoid the ire of his beloved antelope.

“Secondly: on the Rebecca front — can you point her towards someone else who she can bother?"

Molly laughed.

“Sure, I'll try."

“And one last thing..."

He paused to circle 'round so he could face her. Molly studied his human features, seeing a lingering upset behind wise eyes. She didn't mean to snap at him, and he knew that. She could see that he knew. Still, the hurt was real, even if she lacked intent.

Cade too, saw conflict in her. Insecurity. A lack of surety between them. He'd feared this might happen. That given enough time in the same old routine as boyfriend and girlfriend one or both would grow tired. At least it's with the job, he told himself. Be happy you found someone as amazing as her, even if it does end at some point.

They inched closer together. First Molly, then Cade. Inch by inch, to within a hair's breadth of one another. Seconds passed, lost in the eyes of the other. Finally, they kissed.

Molly's heart skipped. After the disruptive natures of their conversation, her scattered worries melted away — Cade's warmth providing the salve for her ailing soul. Work, love, the balance between. Her thoughts dissipated gently, allowing her a peaceful moment of intimacy with her partner. Yes, she reckoned, I'd be a fool to give this up.

Their lips broke apart. Sopping mouths recoiling in agonising slow-motion. A warm, deep smile emerged on her features; the tense back-and-forth now only a faint echo in their minds. There was peace, and calm, and all seemed right with the world again.

“Cade?"

“Yes?"

“I'm sorry I made you worry about us."

“There's no need. How to proceed about us has been weighing on my mind for a while too."

Several minutes later, when the cutlery and bowls had been unceremoniously dumped into the kitchen sink — a chore for future Molly to worry about — the two of them spent time in each other's silent company. Enjoying the presence of their lover.

“Molly?"

“Yeah?"

“Do you have to go to work tonight?"

“Unfortunately."

“Can you call your supervisor — what's his name...Rylan?"

“Well, I would if he'd answer his phone. Afraid I'm stuck."

“No matter," Cade sighed, a warm smile following his gentle exhale, “thought it would be nice to spend some time together to discuss things further. Make you feel better."

“Thanks Cade. I'll be okay."

“You sure?"

Molly looked into his eyes, reading the subtleties of his expression. Despite her having a bad day, he remained solid, reliable. She appreciated that on a level she'd never expected to. Past relationships had never been as...calm. Comforting. Loving.

She nodded. “I will be."

* * *

A single solitary 'ding' rang out in the darkness of Sammy's apartment, soon followed a second later by the square-shaped glow of his phone — it's upturned screen turning on and lighting its surroundings in a painfully-bright white. The light spread across the ceiling, barely reaching the closed curtains that trapped the morning hues outside. The rabbit roused himself, feeling an arm wrapped around his waist. He turned his head, meeting the sleeping snout of his booty call with his cheek.

As he brushed his fluffy face against Rylan's he heard a grumble and low sigh as the horse held him.

Picking up his phone, he squinted but made out the message that had just appeared:

LuckyRabbitsFoot where you at? Ranked Match is bustin' my balls. Need you online now! Sent you an invite! Don't keep me waiting.

He tapped the screen. A reply belonging to his cute moniker appeared with a swishing sound:

Hi Markie. Can't play right now. Am busy. Maybe later.

As if on cue, Rylan's embrace tightened, drawing the anthro bunny up close. A firm feeling emerged from his hold. A sense of safety, security, comfort in the arms of the large equine. They lay together on the converted sofa-bed, a thin blanked draped across their naked forms. Tales of exertion as told by the strewn clothes and rumpled pillows encircled the pair. Echoes of their passionate night evident in the gentle caress and idle jostling of bodies bound together in rest.

Another message. Another demand for his attention rattled in his phone.

Sammy pushed back against Rylan's hold, moving his arm away and sliding forward on the bedding. He rested along his side, picking up the phone and reluctantly typing a response to shoo away his gaming friends.

Upon feeling the rabbit move and squirm away from him, Rylan emerged from his slumber with a deep yawn. The sofa-bed creaked with the motion of the heavy hybrid. He caught up to Sammy, matching his pose, and this time kept his hands firmly on the rabbit's waist — holding, but not restraining, his partner.

Sammy felt Rylan's fur mingle with his own. Back leaning against his muscled core. A brief tingle ran through his spine, entertaining thoughts of another round of loving. His distraction remained. A meddlesome technological curse keeping him busy trying to fat-finger a reply to his friend's text in the half-light of the room — screen blurry to his waking eyes.

It was Rylan's cock draped over his hip that gave him pause. He glanced at the horse, a sly grin on his face hiding deeper longing. His hand left his phone's touchscreen and travelled along his belly before coming to rest on his lover's member. Warm to the tough, flush with blood and excitement. Ready for another bout of intense sex.

Rylan spoke as Sammy stroked his shaft: “what's up?" He narrowed his gaze against the strong backlight of the phone.

“Oh, um, just a friend asking if I was online."

“What time is it?"

“Ten," he replied after checking.

The horse yawned again and stretched. “Mm-hmm. Didn't think it was that late."

“That's because," Sammy began, tapping a button on an app — causing the curtains and shutter-blinds on the window to open automatically, “I like it dark when I wake up."

With the apartment now filled with light, their eyes adjusted.

“Gotcha," Rylan said, shifting in the bed beside him. His dick still rested atop Sammy's hip, sliding about his waistline, remaining a promise of possible promiscuity. “So...your friend. Know them in-person or just online?"

“In-person. Some others online only."

“And do they always pester you at this hour?"

Sammy gave a small laugh and fell back onto Rylan, falling into his embrace.

“The gang have been on my ass every week since I started working full-time at the club."

“Do they know what you do?"

“No. Told 'em I did night shifts as mall security."

Rylan chuckled. “Don't know if I would be convinced you were a mall cop." He paused for a moment, then spoke again: “you can go ahead. I don't mind."

“Eh?"

“You can go ahead and play," he explained, nodding towards the tangled mess of consoles and controllers beneath the antique television, “I could watch."

“You sure? I play, you just...watch? Okay, but isn't that gonna be boring?"

Rylan smirked. “Not if we...spice it up..."

The equine hybrid drew him in for a kiss — a sopping reminder of last night's ecstasy. Sammy surrendered to the contact, revelling in the intimate exchange. After breaking apart, lips damp with each other's desire, Sammy understood.

He picked up a headset and rose to a seated position. Rylan followed his lead and crawled behind, sitting with his legs flanking Sammy's and his member resting 'gainst the small of the rabbit's back, tickled by his tail.

The whir of electronics powering on occupied the silence between them. A couple of movements back-and-forth to stimulate in advance of the action summoned a groan from Rylan, and a coy titter from Sammy — his mischievous mind hard at work.

He straddled Rylan, butt pressed against thighs, the warmth of the equine's member sitting against his fluffy rear a soothing presence. He'd bounce on it soon. For sure. The morning had just started...and his lustful intent greeted Rylan with a gentle glance towards the larger male. Naked bodies. Together. A shiver running through one's spine. An air of kink amongst their mingling. Of muffled online exhibitionism. No sounds of lovemaking could tip off the others — distant, digital names with no faces. Not to Rylan at least. Sammy knew them. Knew what he kept from them. And the deception drove his dirty mind places. His head swam with ideas.

The rabbit bit his lip as he wriggled against Rylan. A giggle came as his ass shook.

“I'm gonna un-mute myself now, so no talking."

Rylan nibbled his neck and ear. An answer in the purest physical affirmative. Sammy reached for the necessary button. A fast motion from Rylan saw his wrist grabbed; as the horse leaned close for one last private moment, a conversation Sammy pre-empted:

“Before I start," the rabbit said, “do you want to stay over again tonight?"

“Can't. I'll be at the club."

“Damn," Sammy chuckled, as if amused by the polite expletive he chose to announce his feelings.

“Would've swapped with someone else if Becca didn't already snatch the only available schedule transfer."

“Shit outta luck...man..."

Rylan's fingers tickled his back. Sammy fought to keep his composure.

“Well, we could do this again," Sammy stated, his words blunt but thick with promise.

“Oh...we're doing this again, Sammy!"

“Hush now," he said, stealing a kiss from the big horse, “I've a game to win...and you'll be my horny good luck charm."

He un-muted his headset. The crackle of tiny voices erupted from the foam earpieces. Rylan smiled and gently caressed his partner as the gaming started.

* * *

Both of the eponymous 'Guard Dogs' were working at the entrance to Violetta when Molly arrived. Two nods of recognition got her past the usual stop-and-wait the customers got subjected to on very busy nights. She'd noticed a queue around the corner, and kept to herself as she headed inside. But not before saying hello:

“Heather, Hannah."

The doberman females unhooked the velvet rope barrier for her, much to the chagrin of those waiting, unaware of her occupation. “Hey Molly. Busy night tonight."

“Yeah I can see that!" she chirped. “Say, is Rebecca in? I know she was performing last night..."

Heather paused to think. “I think you just missed her. Need something?"

“Want her to stop messaging me about her online work."

“So she's still trying to spread the good word?"

“Wait, what?"

Heather laughed. “I thought she'd never stop pestering me until a few weeks ago. Seems she's picked you as her next target."

“You too? Fuck me..."

“Heh, yeah. That's some serious serial solicitation on her part. I've done a few dances here and there. Hannah has too. But that's not really our line of work."

“Can't bash heads when you're swinging on a pole," the other canine interjected.

“Well if you see her let her know to lay off."

“Why don't you just text her back?"

“I don't want to be taken the wrong way — you know how text is...would rather talk to her." Molly adjusted how she held her bag, the strap digging into her shoulder. “Failing that—"

“Get a couple of heavies on the case. To break her heart. Got it," Heather joked.

“Don't be pricks about it if you see her...or just tell her I want a chat...I can let her down gently, that's probably better..."

“We will."

Before she could move further inside, Hannah stopped her momentarily and changed topics:

“Got some high rollers in tonight: guy and gal with the black jacket and fur coat, saw them hanging around Stage Three. They've tipped Emily pretty good so far tonight, and you might slide in there and make bank as well. There's also a hybrid with deep pockets hanging out at the bar in Stage Two. Gotta move fast before Emily sinks her claws into him too!"

“Thanks for the tips."

“Sure thing, Molls — now go on in and get some real tips!"

Molly bade farewell to the burly guard dogs and went inside. She traversed the backside of the club, skirting behind the stages and offices on the way to her changing room. The lights were low, and darkness crept into the corridors from many angles. Only the strips of halogen lighting occasionally suspended from the ceiling tiles in the employees-only sections of the club illuminated her path. Not clearly enough, as she turned a corner and slammed into a tall wall of muscle.

Rylan grunted as he felt the air escape his lungs.

“Urf, oof!"

“Whoops sorry — uh, wasn't looking!" Molly pulled back to see the anthro horse better. “Hey Rylan, you on tonight?"

“Yeah," he replied, his voice weak from the winding, “I've got a big show with some of the guys on Stage One. Nothing fancy, just a choreographed set on the poles. You?"

“Usual low-key stuff. Serve some tables. Do some stage work. Some booth work. Nothin' major."

“I see," he said, cradling his gut. “Geez Molly, you packed a punch coming 'round that corner."

“Sorry."

“Ah well, at least you didn't get me with your horns," he said pointed to the black stubs on her head. Not sharp, but definitely painful if he'd been prodded in the ribs by them.

Once he had recovered, Rylan walked with Molly to the changing rooms. He had a certain spring in his step that Molly was able to pick up on. And his voice too, when he spoke next, without the distortion of being out-of-breath, his words were rich in giddiness.

“Well, I know you'll make the boss lady proud. You always do."

She stopped, causing Rylan to pause and turn around. “Something fun happen?" she asked him.

“Hmmm?"

“You look very pleased with yourself, like a kid on his birthday."

“Oh...nothing...just had a fun time recently." He winked. “It's a secret."

“Well so did I," she said, trying to add to the conversation somehow, all the while offering him a lingering look of amused suspicion. They started moving again. Through the dimly-lit building they strode, until she was outside her changing room door.

“Hey Molls."

“What's up?"

“Do you think I could pull off...ah, never mind..."

“No wait, tell me."

Rylan looked sheepish as he rubbed his hands together. He balled one into a fist and gently smacked it against it counterpart: a wide open palm. “Want your advice on something. How do you think I'd look in a...um...medieval knight costume? Think it could work?"

He gestured as he spoke, pointing to non-existent shoulder pauldrons. Rylan then twisted his pose and put his hands forward, miming brandishing a sword. Making a few practice swings, like a golfer pretending to tee off. He quickly stopped, having realised he was getting too into the idea, and poor Molly was staring at him acting strange.

“Uhh...y'know...a knight."

“Is this a new show idea?"

“No, it's nothing to do with the job. I was, uh, just asking for some feedback on an idea for someone—I mean something."

“A secret?"

“Kinda," he said, smiling awkwardly.

“I dunno — you'd make a fine King Arthur."

“Not a king, though. But like a regular knight. Well...um...not regular as in historical...there might be less armour than that. Errr...a lot less..."

“Rylan, you know what line of work you're in, or have you forgotten? You have the looks: the strong stallion with a flowing mane. I've seen your firefighter, your police officer, your caveman. Slap a few foam pieces of armour over that horsey bod and you'll do just fine. Seeing as you won't tell me what it's for that's the best I can do."

The equine hybrid sighed and smiled; a tittering laugh followed his exasperated admission.

“Thanks Molls. I should run along now, I have to get ready."

“Me too. Keep your secrets then, Sir."

Rylan walked away, shooting finger-guns at Molly before merging into the dark corridor. His levity returned to him, manifesting as a gay bounce to his stride (in both meanings of the word!). Bemused, Molly opened her door and went inside.

In the smallest of the handful of changing rooms available, she set down her bag and hung up her jacket on one of the free hooks. A couple of on-duty performers had theirs hanging nearby. She didn't bother trying to recognise anyone and opened her locker.

Venus' mask stared at her — one of many she'd had made for her stripper persona. It was a sultry red, with a hint of purple in the strap. Beside it, bottles of non-permanent ink and other tinctures for dyeing and styling her fur. Molly pondered how best to dress for the night, picking out her lingerie first.

While she changed, her thoughts were fixed on the finer details of performing.

With costumes, no-one knows me. I can relax and let my instincts guide me. Maybe Rebecca's happy enough to show herself off online. I just...it's bigger potential audience sure, but a much bigger chance of being 'unmasked'...

She paused.

Why am I justifying my refusal? It doesn't appeal to me. That's it. End of story. No matter how fun it sounds in theory it'll end up being a pain in my ass.

That was the key difference in her mind. Chance of being recognised. Revealed or doxxed. At Violetta, she could blend into the shadows, disappear into her role as Venus — that mysterious, sensual being. The patterned goddess or the sophisticated courtesan. The tribal warrior or the sensual seductress. Her choice each night. It was like acting. You put on a disguise. Elevate the right emotions in your audience, then hey presto — they're wrapped around your little finger faster than you can say 'adore me'.

All without posting her body all over the Internet, for a million malicious usernames to scour her appearance for extortionate purpose. She could live without that. So why did it bug her so much?

It's not like there's a problem.

I like things as they are.

She reached for the mask and make-up.

Ugh...I got angry at Cade over nothing...

She sighed.

Suppose I do want to move on. Take another step with him. Am I ready to? I...can't tell...

Maybe that's why she was so stuck on Rebecca's pestering request to try out Snap-X. Eventually demand for her to cam or send pictures or chat without any costume, any barrier between her and her clientele would be there. Maybe she could only refuse for so long before the offers became too good to pass up. It would be hard to have a respectable life without the anonymity she currently enjoyed, and if she wanted to with Cade...

“I need to clear my head," she said to herself.

Work helps. Work always helps.

* * *

In the shadow of an occupied booth, a tall wolf hybrid sat on a sumptuous padded seat as his paid partner gyrated to the beat of house music and shone with painted stripes of glowing blue, green, and violet from miniature spotlights. The bills flowed freely, flicked at and stuffed into what remained of her outfit; his object of obsession the lovely lioness baring her fierce form for his stimulation tickled his erotic fancy. Emily, under her pseudonym 'Savannah', worked her magic with him — separating the horny fool from his money.

As the rhythm of the music slowed, the toned lioness drew closer, straddling her customer. A faint exhale masked a gulp as she could feel his body tremble with need. His breath turning to steam with the heat of their encounter — teasing, toiling, tormenting...

Grinding on his lap, Emily snarled as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. The soft clash of cloth on cloth hid her subtle stimulation from the wolf. She found him attractive, but didn't care for spoiling her evening with a one-night stand. She was a professional!

Another whimper, then a more confident growl emanated from the lupine anthro's lips. She told him off with a waggle of her finger and the words 'down boy' mouthed — fangs exposed, giving a hint of authority. The wolf groaned and slipped another wad into her g-string, purchasing a smile, a giggle, and a face-full of leonine breasts.

Emily stood up, moving sensually as she turned around and swayed her firm ass. She turned back to him, and draped her arms over his shoulders, getting frisky with this well-paying guest. Her teasing came close to real contact — a kiss only an inch away from emerging — but she knew how to work him good.

“Am I disturbing something?"

Both spun 'round to find the source of those words. Emily spotted Molly at the booth entrance, fully kitted-out in luxurious costume. She glanced at her own, most of which decorated the seats and floor of the booth — their sequins and highlights sparkling whenever light passed over them. A frown formed. No sooner had it shown up she switched to a wicked smile. “Oh, hello," she purred.

The wolf looked dumbstruck. As if to return Emily/Savannah's attention back to him he asked: “who's your friend?" The gravelly tone of the wolf reached Emily with its question, sending shivers down her spine. Those lupine hybrids did have a charming way of speaking, Plenty of buttons to push in this safe environment so why not enjoy them?

“Hey there," Molly cooed, stepping deeper into the booth, “why don't I join you two?"

Emily snarled playfully. “Back off — this hunk's mine for the night!" To emphasize her point, she climbed atop him and pressed her hands onto his chest, pushing him into the cushioned seat. Territory marked, she awaited Molly's reply.

“Oh really?" the antelope smirked with a hand rested on her hip, “let's ask him then. So mister, are you happy with only one private dancer?"

Molly walked up to them, swaying her hips. The night was just beginning, and she had plenty of exuberance filling her, igniting her passion. Standing beside the pair, she blew a kiss.

“Uh...no, I don't think so," said the wolf.

Feigning betrayal, Emily moved back to allow Molly to get a good perch over their client. “Hi," she said.

“Hi."

“My my, what a handsome thing we have here." She drew a finger along his collar, bristling the fur.

The wolf sighed with delight — her touch a fresh blessing to his simmering body.

“Come here before?" Molly asked.

He nodded.

“Seen any of our big shows?"

He nodded again. A hint of recognition in his eyes.

“I'm Venus," Molly whispered, looking over at Emily, “maybe you've seen the two of us onstage..."

Before their client could say another word, both performers crowded around him, their motions synchronised. An impromptu alignment of heart and mind to create a perfect combination. Dredging from their rehearsals the eternal synthesis of predator and prey — with one lucky customer sandwiched between them. The pair prepared to strip and tease and drive him wild, together.

With sultry gaze and sensual tone, they asked: “ready for a repeat performance?"

The night was young. This was only her first port of call for her shift, but Molly knew by the cash already displayed this guy had deep pockets — why not make it count?