FA+
Shop
5111 submissions
Luck of the Dragon
© 2018 by Walter D. Reimer
Chapter Two hundred Fifty-three
(Rosie Baumgartner courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel. Thanks!)
(Inspector Stagg and Sergeant Brush courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by
MoodyFerret
The beautifully painted and lacquered fan snapped shut and fell to the table, clattering against one of the slightly chipped porcelain cups. The sound betrayed the fact that the fan concealed steel stays that could break fingers if used properly. Silence fell and the others either looked at the red panda femme or swiveled their ears toward her as Ni Peng said, “Excuse me? What did I just hear you say, Regina?”
The English hound tittered girlishly as the others in the room exchanged smiles. They had met at Fatima’s place, with all of the girls but two that could be counted to stay quiet sent away.
Peng, Regina, and the other madams of the various brothels on Krupmark Island met regularly to maintain lines of communication, discuss who might be persona non grata for some transgression or other, and what to pass on to the ruling clique up on the Hill. In a very real sense, the network of whorehouses served as an intelligence service.
Because men will talk, while women will pretend not to listen.
“I was saying, Peng, that with Carlotta having died, we need a steady paw to make sure that we survive. Stephanie,” and he nodded to the wolfess who headed the Black Sheep House, “has told me that she doesn’t feel up to the task. If I’m honest, I’m not up to it either.” The madam of the largest invert brothel on the island lifted his tea cup and sipped daintily.
The other madams nodded, and Peng asked, “Why?”
“You are senior,” Reiko said simply. Her Japanese accent made her English a bit hard to understand at times. She glanced at the slim bear to her left as she cleared her throat.
Alix nodded once at the Shiba Inu and added, “Madam Ni, we’ve all heard what may be coming for us, and only your husband has taken steps to defend this place.” The ursine sow gave a delicate shiver. Word had traveled from one end of the island to the other as fast as cholera that Cranium Island had sent a messenger to Ni Hei.
And, amazingly, the head of the Ni Family was still alive.
The fact that the thing was standing in a closet at the Lucky Dragon Casino explained why the location for their regular meeting had moved. Fatima, the Afghan hound that ran the place, had muttered either a curse or a prayer in Pashto, but otherwise was every inch the hostess.
Peng’s banded tail slid onto her lap as she retrieved her fan, snapped it open, and slowly wafted it as she thought furiously. Ni Hei had disdained a “seat at the table” with the rulers of the island, and she honestly didn’t feel like being at the forefront. The sound of Fatima clearing her throat caused the red panda to look at her.
“While those up on the Hill may hear you, but not listen, you have your mate’s ear.” The Afghan canine gave her onetime owner a knowing smile. “As well as other parts, yes?”
The rest of the women chuckled, and Peng had no choice but to bow to their collective wisdom. “I accept.”
Stephanie clapped her paws softly. “Sehr gut,” the new madam of the Black Sheep House said. “I have a . . . request, yes? Before we discuss business, Madam Ni.” The wolfess nodded at the red panda’s attentive look and said, “I would like to send Frieda to you.”
Peng raised an eyebrow, and her slow fanning stopped. “Why?”
“Carlotta was raising her,” Stephanie explained, “to take over the Schwarzes Schafhaus. A wise person knows their limits, ja? So when I retire, she will succeed me.” The wolfess raised a paw to brush back an errant lock of headfur. “I want her, and she agrees, to learn how others run their business.”
Peng brightened and she smiled. “Ah, I see now.”
“She will always have the Black Sheep as her home, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What about Dolores?” Reiko asked, referring to the Australian feline who had recently become the Black Sheep House’s staff dominatrix.
“She has told me that she does not want to be a madam,” Stephanie explained. “Dolores’ mother managed a house in Melbourne – before it was shut down.” The Japanese woman nodded.
Ni Peng nodded. “Frieda will be an honored guest, and rest assured that I will teach her everything I know.” Within reason, of course. “Is there anything else before we discuss our usual business?” A few of the women shook their heads, and the conversation turned to the latest of Mad Mac’s depredations. Much to peoples’ disappointment, the skunk had survived the fight against the Shen back in April, and had unexpectedly barged into Lee’s house in Fort Bob. Two of Lee’s girls and one bodyguard had been killed.
There was nothing to be done about Mad Mac, as gunfire tended to irritate him.
*********
Hao grinned cheerfully as the older of the two Chen brothers finally crumpled to the floor, blood spurting from his badly abused nose. His younger brother stood over him, panting as he raised his arms and acknowledged the mixture of applause and catcalls from his supporters and detractors.
White Lotus Chen’s basement had started life as a shelter during the Gunboat Wars, and he had turned it into a gambling den. His sons had successfully managed to have their bout to settle some differences ahead of the expected fight between Shin and Fang.
The young red panda had bet well on the younger brother, and was looking forward to his winnings. Xiu would also be pleased to see how much she made from the bets he’d placed on her behalf.
The crowd inside the basement milled around, shouting bets and good-natured insults at each other. There was barely enough floor space for the ring, and the air was filled with the smells of smoke, musk and spilled drinks. No blood, though; Chen insisted on no violence. The fights he held down there were not exactly legal, and he didn’t want to get raided. What blood there was, spattered liberally on the concrete floor of the ring, was hastily sanded over in preparation for the match everyone was waiting for.
Hao was lighting a cigarette when someone jostled his elbow. He shook the match out and turned to snap –
“Brush?!”
*********
How do I tell him?
The question had been weighing on Rosie’s mind for a few days.
She had to tell him at some point, though. The longer she waited, the more obvious it would become, and while Franklin Stagg may be lame from the damage to his hoof he certainly wasn’t blind.
Luckily it seemed that he’d had a quiet day at work, and he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed as she gave him a hoofrub.
Now or never . . .
“Um, Franneleh?”
*********
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ni Hao could barely manage to remember to speak English at the sight of the fox. He suddenly looked around to see if anyone had heard him say that.
Orrin Brush grinned around the cigarette in his muzzle. “Relax, kid,” he said. “Chen’s okeh wit’ me bein’ here. Got a bet on yer sister.”
Curiosity overrode his paranoia. “My sister?” His eyes narrowed. “Win or lose?”
The fox laughed (why hadn’t he seen that tie earlier? Brush’s trademark neckwear was visible in fog) and replied, “Well, I also got some money spread out on her sweetie. Gonna be a good fight, though; he’s got the size and reach on her, an’ she’s got them fancy skills that school teaches.”
Hao gave a grudging nod and started moving through the crowd to get some distance between him and the policefur. Brush just laughed and ground out his cigarette underfoot.
*********
“Hmm . . . yes, Rosie?”
The cheetah kept doing the hoofrub. It kept her paws busy so she could focus on choosing just the right words. “I . . . well, I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Yes, I noticed,” he said drily.
She glanced up at him, and saw that his eyes were still closed. “So I, um, went to see Doc Meffit.”
The cheetah glanced up again.
The whitetail buck was now gazing up at the ceiling.
Rosie gulped and kept rubbing his hooves as she said quietly, “I heard back from him.” There was a pregnant pause.
The pause had whelped a litter of puppies by the time Stagg asked, “And?” His expression was completely unreadable.
Looking up at his poker face, Rosie suddenly found that some invisible cat had stolen her tongue. “Uh . . . er, this . . . um, that is . . . “ Before she could react, the hooves left her paws and planted themselves on the floor as her buck got to his feet.
“Stand up,” he said in his soft, dry voice, but there was an edge to the words, and his expression could put poker players around the world to shame.
She obeyed, and seemingly couldn’t meet his gaze.
*********
Wo Fang entered the ring to cheers from half of the crowd, and assorted taunts and jeers from the other half. Laughter quickly drowned out every other sound when the assembly noted that the Manchurian tiger was bare-chested and wearing a pair of pyjama pants. Fang was also barefoot, and had his paws and wrists taped. He stood in his corner, flexing slightly as he waited for his wife.
The crowd cheered, but sounded a touch disappointed when they saw that she wasn’t dressed like her husband. Like him, Shin was barefoot, but was wearing her Songmark shorts and an undershirt. She stepped into the ring, glared at Fang, and spat.
She was running straight at him before the saliva hit the floor.
*********
“Look at me.”
Rosie Baumgartner usually didn’t scare worth a damn. Now, though?
Her heart was hammering in her chest and her paws felt sweaty. She had to force herself to look up at his face.
His expression was . . . stern, but not hateful. Rosie wasn’t sure she could have survived that.
“What are you trying to say?” He placed his paws on her shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Um . . . well, ah, what I’m trying to say, F-Franneleh, is . . . I’m pregnant.”
Another pregnant pause, and this time it whelped two litters.
The cheetah femme lowered her head and she felt her breath catch.
*********
Her opening attack didn’t quite have the effect Shin had planned. Fang stood his ground until the last possible moment before twisting to his left, getting in a punch to her ribs as she went past him. Still, her pirouette had enabled her to lash out with one foot and slam into his hip.
She tried for the Five-Point Flying Dragon Tail Hold, only to be defeated as his sinuous tiger’s tail whisked out of her grasp. Fang followed up with a hard right to her left shoulder.
The shoulder she had dislocated the previous winter.
All the gods be damned, that hurt.
Shin felt the rough surface under her feet as she backpedaled, rubbing her shoulder and glaring at her husband. “That hurt, you big oaf!”
Fang chuffed a laugh. “Not half as much as it’s going to hurt,” and he started toward her. His big paws were open, claws unsheathed as he moved in to grapple. Many in the crowd who had bet heavily on the Manchurian tiger groaned; red pandas were, as a rule, more flexible, and Shin had the increased advantage of having been trained in unarmed combat.
The bettors’ fears were borne out as his first reach for her was met with hard kick to his chin followed by a throw that left him on his back six feet away from his wife.
*********
She felt her buck’s paw grip her chin and she felt tears sting her eyes as she met his gaze. “I – I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly, and he bent to kiss her.
And kiss her he did.
Rosie felt her tail lock to one side as the kiss lengthened and deepened. She even moaned, just a little.
His lips drew back, and her eyes opened, blinking up at him –
In time to see him smile.
“Wh-homina homina homina . . . “
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me,” Stagg said.
Rosie’s brain promptly abdicated its responsibilities. “You . . . you knew?” she fairly squeaked. “Who? How?”
“The ‘how’ was simple.” Franklin’s smile widened just a bit. “I have been through this before, if you’ll recall. As to ‘who,’ you did, just now.”
*********
The fight between Wo Fang and Wo Shin had degenerated somewhat, with partisans on both sides cheering themselves hoarse. The couple had stood toe to toe for several minutes, Shin’s superior speed and flexibility stymied by her husband’s longer reach. During the course of the fight the red panda had acquired a black eye and she was favoring her ribs and left shoulder. The tiger was sporting a black eye of his own, as well as claw marks on his chest and muzzle and a badly bitten ear.
Things changed when Shin finally succeeded in getting under Fang’s guard and grappled him to the basement floor. He ended up on his stomach as she straddled the back of his neck, thighs trying to choke the breath out of him.
“For the last time,” she panted venomously, “stop leaving dishes in the sink!”
Fang snarled and planted his paws flat on the concrete. “They need to soak!” he countered.
“They don’t need to soak for three days!” Shin’s screamed rejoinder caused a gale of laughter to erupt in the crowded and smoky cellar.
*********
Rosie was reduced to simply blinking up at Franklin as the buck gently guided her into her favorite chair. He tugged the ottoman over and sat facing her. “Franklin? Love?”
“Yes, Rosie?”
“You . . . you’re not mad – at me?”
He took her paw in both of his. “How could I be?” he asked. “Your love’s given me a new lease on life, Rosie.” His ears swiveled. “And I think that I’d be mad at myself more than at you. It does take two to tango, as they say.” He bent and kissed her paw, then fished his pawkerchief out and offered it to her. “You’re crying, Rosie.”
“I’m happy, Franneleh,” the cheetah choked out, taking the kerchief and dabbing at her eyes. “Oy, you have no idea how happy I am. But – “
“Marriage?” The whitetail buck nodded, looking thoughtful. “Obviously, I am going to make an honest woman of you – “ He paused as Rosie chuckled despite herself “ – but there are practical things to be considered.”
*********
Wo Fang emerged from White Lotus Chen’s basement and paused to take a few breaths of air that wasn’t tainted with tobacco smoke. The burden on his left shoulder stirred, and he slapped at his wife’s rear end. “You starting to wake up?”
“Ohh . . . I think so,” Shin said. “What the hell happened?”
“I threw you over, and you hit your head on the concrete.” Fang chuckled. “I couldn’t see if you cracked Chen’s floor.”
“Oh, ha ha ha. Are you going to let me down?”
“No. Enjoy the ride.” He started heading for the water taxis. “I collected our winnings.”
The red panda draped over his shoulder stirred. “How much?”
“You made four hundred.”
“Good. You?”
Fang grinned, then his tongue toyed with a possibly loose tooth. “Tell you later. I hope you had a good nap, though.”
“Oh?”
“Remember I said I was going to put a kitten in you?”
Her thick-furred, banded tail went around his neck like a huge feather boa. “Yes?”
“Tonight’s the night, my ringtailed beauty.”
She snuggled a bit closer and clung to him as he stepped into a boat. “I love you, my widdle kitty.”
Shin yelped as Fang swatted her rear again. “I love you too, Clown Face.”
The End!
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2018 by Walter D. Reimer
Chapter Two hundred Fifty-three
(Rosie Baumgartner courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel. Thanks!)
(Inspector Stagg and Sergeant Brush courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by
MoodyFerretThe beautifully painted and lacquered fan snapped shut and fell to the table, clattering against one of the slightly chipped porcelain cups. The sound betrayed the fact that the fan concealed steel stays that could break fingers if used properly. Silence fell and the others either looked at the red panda femme or swiveled their ears toward her as Ni Peng said, “Excuse me? What did I just hear you say, Regina?”
The English hound tittered girlishly as the others in the room exchanged smiles. They had met at Fatima’s place, with all of the girls but two that could be counted to stay quiet sent away.
Peng, Regina, and the other madams of the various brothels on Krupmark Island met regularly to maintain lines of communication, discuss who might be persona non grata for some transgression or other, and what to pass on to the ruling clique up on the Hill. In a very real sense, the network of whorehouses served as an intelligence service.
Because men will talk, while women will pretend not to listen.
“I was saying, Peng, that with Carlotta having died, we need a steady paw to make sure that we survive. Stephanie,” and he nodded to the wolfess who headed the Black Sheep House, “has told me that she doesn’t feel up to the task. If I’m honest, I’m not up to it either.” The madam of the largest invert brothel on the island lifted his tea cup and sipped daintily.
The other madams nodded, and Peng asked, “Why?”
“You are senior,” Reiko said simply. Her Japanese accent made her English a bit hard to understand at times. She glanced at the slim bear to her left as she cleared her throat.
Alix nodded once at the Shiba Inu and added, “Madam Ni, we’ve all heard what may be coming for us, and only your husband has taken steps to defend this place.” The ursine sow gave a delicate shiver. Word had traveled from one end of the island to the other as fast as cholera that Cranium Island had sent a messenger to Ni Hei.
And, amazingly, the head of the Ni Family was still alive.
The fact that the thing was standing in a closet at the Lucky Dragon Casino explained why the location for their regular meeting had moved. Fatima, the Afghan hound that ran the place, had muttered either a curse or a prayer in Pashto, but otherwise was every inch the hostess.
Peng’s banded tail slid onto her lap as she retrieved her fan, snapped it open, and slowly wafted it as she thought furiously. Ni Hei had disdained a “seat at the table” with the rulers of the island, and she honestly didn’t feel like being at the forefront. The sound of Fatima clearing her throat caused the red panda to look at her.
“While those up on the Hill may hear you, but not listen, you have your mate’s ear.” The Afghan canine gave her onetime owner a knowing smile. “As well as other parts, yes?”
The rest of the women chuckled, and Peng had no choice but to bow to their collective wisdom. “I accept.”
Stephanie clapped her paws softly. “Sehr gut,” the new madam of the Black Sheep House said. “I have a . . . request, yes? Before we discuss business, Madam Ni.” The wolfess nodded at the red panda’s attentive look and said, “I would like to send Frieda to you.”
Peng raised an eyebrow, and her slow fanning stopped. “Why?”
“Carlotta was raising her,” Stephanie explained, “to take over the Schwarzes Schafhaus. A wise person knows their limits, ja? So when I retire, she will succeed me.” The wolfess raised a paw to brush back an errant lock of headfur. “I want her, and she agrees, to learn how others run their business.”
Peng brightened and she smiled. “Ah, I see now.”
“She will always have the Black Sheep as her home, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What about Dolores?” Reiko asked, referring to the Australian feline who had recently become the Black Sheep House’s staff dominatrix.
“She has told me that she does not want to be a madam,” Stephanie explained. “Dolores’ mother managed a house in Melbourne – before it was shut down.” The Japanese woman nodded.
Ni Peng nodded. “Frieda will be an honored guest, and rest assured that I will teach her everything I know.” Within reason, of course. “Is there anything else before we discuss our usual business?” A few of the women shook their heads, and the conversation turned to the latest of Mad Mac’s depredations. Much to peoples’ disappointment, the skunk had survived the fight against the Shen back in April, and had unexpectedly barged into Lee’s house in Fort Bob. Two of Lee’s girls and one bodyguard had been killed.
There was nothing to be done about Mad Mac, as gunfire tended to irritate him.
*********
Hao grinned cheerfully as the older of the two Chen brothers finally crumpled to the floor, blood spurting from his badly abused nose. His younger brother stood over him, panting as he raised his arms and acknowledged the mixture of applause and catcalls from his supporters and detractors.
White Lotus Chen’s basement had started life as a shelter during the Gunboat Wars, and he had turned it into a gambling den. His sons had successfully managed to have their bout to settle some differences ahead of the expected fight between Shin and Fang.
The young red panda had bet well on the younger brother, and was looking forward to his winnings. Xiu would also be pleased to see how much she made from the bets he’d placed on her behalf.
The crowd inside the basement milled around, shouting bets and good-natured insults at each other. There was barely enough floor space for the ring, and the air was filled with the smells of smoke, musk and spilled drinks. No blood, though; Chen insisted on no violence. The fights he held down there were not exactly legal, and he didn’t want to get raided. What blood there was, spattered liberally on the concrete floor of the ring, was hastily sanded over in preparation for the match everyone was waiting for.
Hao was lighting a cigarette when someone jostled his elbow. He shook the match out and turned to snap –
“Brush?!”
*********
How do I tell him?
The question had been weighing on Rosie’s mind for a few days.
She had to tell him at some point, though. The longer she waited, the more obvious it would become, and while Franklin Stagg may be lame from the damage to his hoof he certainly wasn’t blind.
Luckily it seemed that he’d had a quiet day at work, and he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed as she gave him a hoofrub.
Now or never . . .
“Um, Franneleh?”
*********
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ni Hao could barely manage to remember to speak English at the sight of the fox. He suddenly looked around to see if anyone had heard him say that.
Orrin Brush grinned around the cigarette in his muzzle. “Relax, kid,” he said. “Chen’s okeh wit’ me bein’ here. Got a bet on yer sister.”
Curiosity overrode his paranoia. “My sister?” His eyes narrowed. “Win or lose?”
The fox laughed (why hadn’t he seen that tie earlier? Brush’s trademark neckwear was visible in fog) and replied, “Well, I also got some money spread out on her sweetie. Gonna be a good fight, though; he’s got the size and reach on her, an’ she’s got them fancy skills that school teaches.”
Hao gave a grudging nod and started moving through the crowd to get some distance between him and the policefur. Brush just laughed and ground out his cigarette underfoot.
*********
“Hmm . . . yes, Rosie?”
The cheetah kept doing the hoofrub. It kept her paws busy so she could focus on choosing just the right words. “I . . . well, I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Yes, I noticed,” he said drily.
She glanced up at him, and saw that his eyes were still closed. “So I, um, went to see Doc Meffit.”
The cheetah glanced up again.
The whitetail buck was now gazing up at the ceiling.
Rosie gulped and kept rubbing his hooves as she said quietly, “I heard back from him.” There was a pregnant pause.
The pause had whelped a litter of puppies by the time Stagg asked, “And?” His expression was completely unreadable.
Looking up at his poker face, Rosie suddenly found that some invisible cat had stolen her tongue. “Uh . . . er, this . . . um, that is . . . “ Before she could react, the hooves left her paws and planted themselves on the floor as her buck got to his feet.
“Stand up,” he said in his soft, dry voice, but there was an edge to the words, and his expression could put poker players around the world to shame.
She obeyed, and seemingly couldn’t meet his gaze.
*********
Wo Fang entered the ring to cheers from half of the crowd, and assorted taunts and jeers from the other half. Laughter quickly drowned out every other sound when the assembly noted that the Manchurian tiger was bare-chested and wearing a pair of pyjama pants. Fang was also barefoot, and had his paws and wrists taped. He stood in his corner, flexing slightly as he waited for his wife.
The crowd cheered, but sounded a touch disappointed when they saw that she wasn’t dressed like her husband. Like him, Shin was barefoot, but was wearing her Songmark shorts and an undershirt. She stepped into the ring, glared at Fang, and spat.
She was running straight at him before the saliva hit the floor.
*********
“Look at me.”
Rosie Baumgartner usually didn’t scare worth a damn. Now, though?
Her heart was hammering in her chest and her paws felt sweaty. She had to force herself to look up at his face.
His expression was . . . stern, but not hateful. Rosie wasn’t sure she could have survived that.
“What are you trying to say?” He placed his paws on her shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Um . . . well, ah, what I’m trying to say, F-Franneleh, is . . . I’m pregnant.”
Another pregnant pause, and this time it whelped two litters.
The cheetah femme lowered her head and she felt her breath catch.
*********
Her opening attack didn’t quite have the effect Shin had planned. Fang stood his ground until the last possible moment before twisting to his left, getting in a punch to her ribs as she went past him. Still, her pirouette had enabled her to lash out with one foot and slam into his hip.
She tried for the Five-Point Flying Dragon Tail Hold, only to be defeated as his sinuous tiger’s tail whisked out of her grasp. Fang followed up with a hard right to her left shoulder.
The shoulder she had dislocated the previous winter.
All the gods be damned, that hurt.
Shin felt the rough surface under her feet as she backpedaled, rubbing her shoulder and glaring at her husband. “That hurt, you big oaf!”
Fang chuffed a laugh. “Not half as much as it’s going to hurt,” and he started toward her. His big paws were open, claws unsheathed as he moved in to grapple. Many in the crowd who had bet heavily on the Manchurian tiger groaned; red pandas were, as a rule, more flexible, and Shin had the increased advantage of having been trained in unarmed combat.
The bettors’ fears were borne out as his first reach for her was met with hard kick to his chin followed by a throw that left him on his back six feet away from his wife.
*********
She felt her buck’s paw grip her chin and she felt tears sting her eyes as she met his gaze. “I – I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly, and he bent to kiss her.
And kiss her he did.
Rosie felt her tail lock to one side as the kiss lengthened and deepened. She even moaned, just a little.
His lips drew back, and her eyes opened, blinking up at him –
In time to see him smile.
“Wh-homina homina homina . . . “
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me,” Stagg said.
Rosie’s brain promptly abdicated its responsibilities. “You . . . you knew?” she fairly squeaked. “Who? How?”
“The ‘how’ was simple.” Franklin’s smile widened just a bit. “I have been through this before, if you’ll recall. As to ‘who,’ you did, just now.”
*********
The fight between Wo Fang and Wo Shin had degenerated somewhat, with partisans on both sides cheering themselves hoarse. The couple had stood toe to toe for several minutes, Shin’s superior speed and flexibility stymied by her husband’s longer reach. During the course of the fight the red panda had acquired a black eye and she was favoring her ribs and left shoulder. The tiger was sporting a black eye of his own, as well as claw marks on his chest and muzzle and a badly bitten ear.
Things changed when Shin finally succeeded in getting under Fang’s guard and grappled him to the basement floor. He ended up on his stomach as she straddled the back of his neck, thighs trying to choke the breath out of him.
“For the last time,” she panted venomously, “stop leaving dishes in the sink!”
Fang snarled and planted his paws flat on the concrete. “They need to soak!” he countered.
“They don’t need to soak for three days!” Shin’s screamed rejoinder caused a gale of laughter to erupt in the crowded and smoky cellar.
*********
Rosie was reduced to simply blinking up at Franklin as the buck gently guided her into her favorite chair. He tugged the ottoman over and sat facing her. “Franklin? Love?”
“Yes, Rosie?”
“You . . . you’re not mad – at me?”
He took her paw in both of his. “How could I be?” he asked. “Your love’s given me a new lease on life, Rosie.” His ears swiveled. “And I think that I’d be mad at myself more than at you. It does take two to tango, as they say.” He bent and kissed her paw, then fished his pawkerchief out and offered it to her. “You’re crying, Rosie.”
“I’m happy, Franneleh,” the cheetah choked out, taking the kerchief and dabbing at her eyes. “Oy, you have no idea how happy I am. But – “
“Marriage?” The whitetail buck nodded, looking thoughtful. “Obviously, I am going to make an honest woman of you – “ He paused as Rosie chuckled despite herself “ – but there are practical things to be considered.”
*********
Wo Fang emerged from White Lotus Chen’s basement and paused to take a few breaths of air that wasn’t tainted with tobacco smoke. The burden on his left shoulder stirred, and he slapped at his wife’s rear end. “You starting to wake up?”
“Ohh . . . I think so,” Shin said. “What the hell happened?”
“I threw you over, and you hit your head on the concrete.” Fang chuckled. “I couldn’t see if you cracked Chen’s floor.”
“Oh, ha ha ha. Are you going to let me down?”
“No. Enjoy the ride.” He started heading for the water taxis. “I collected our winnings.”
The red panda draped over his shoulder stirred. “How much?”
“You made four hundred.”
“Good. You?”
Fang grinned, then his tongue toyed with a possibly loose tooth. “Tell you later. I hope you had a good nap, though.”
“Oh?”
“Remember I said I was going to put a kitten in you?”
Her thick-furred, banded tail went around his neck like a huge feather boa. “Yes?”
“Tonight’s the night, my ringtailed beauty.”
She snuggled a bit closer and clung to him as he stepped into a boat. “I love you, my widdle kitty.”
Shin yelped as Fang swatted her rear again. “I love you too, Clown Face.”
The End!
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Red Panda
Size 120 x 118px
File Size 64.5 kB
Listed in Folders
They'd been sniping good-naturedly at each other off and on *a lot* and her younger brother suggested that when they do throw down, they should sell tickets.
So, last week of August (Speed Week, Schneider Cup air races), they decided to work out their differences and air grievances.
So, last week of August (Speed Week, Schneider Cup air races), they decided to work out their differences and air grievances.
Comments