Deck the Halls

Rita kept stealing glances at Brian when the slender dog wasn't looking, which was much of the eight-hour drive. Brian loved the desert. Rita was sure that the slender dog could have happily passed the entire drive just watching the golden, red, and white sands roll by, barking at the tumbleweeds like he was back in grade school and watching the vultures circle overhead like a big "Welcome Home" banner. That was why Rita had offered to drive, even though it was Brian's car. But Brian broke up these studies with quick looks back at Rita, tongue hanging out in a wide grin, saying, "You doing okay?", to which Rita always replied, "Yeah," and pretended to be keeping her eyes on the road even though she could have kicked back and taken a nap and the car would've kept right on going down the ramrod-straight I-10.

Part of the reason she was bringing Brian home for Christmas was that her boyfriend was one of those weird people who legitimately loved Christmas. Sharing it had been a big deal. He'd never understood her own disinterest in the holiday, so Rita thought that a few days with her insane family might help clear the air. Rita had other reasons for bringing Brian home, too, but none of those had to do with Brian specifically.

Hopefully it would get Peggy to quit bugging her about coming home for Christmas. Her older nephew Richie had managed to miss the last two by being abroad. Rita had made noises last year about joining Richie overseas rather than coming home, which had alarmed his aunt to the point that she had tried to buy Richie a plane ticket to come home this year and had called Rita nearly every week as the days grew shorter telling her that her cousin was coming home and she should too.

Richie was not, of course, coming, and Rita knew this as well as she knew that she had to. She'd wanted to skip the family Christmas for years. She knew her family would never understand. As much as she wanted to miss Christmas, she couldn't just stop going the way Richie had. She would have to get her family to stop inviting her.

"You'll have a Christmas tree, right?" Brian said.

"Two of them, probably," Rita snorted. "One big one for the living room and one for the rec room."

Brian's tail thumped against the seat. "Wow! Two trees? Do your friends put up lights?"

Rita rolled her eyes. "Just you wait."

Indeed, there was no missing their house once she turned onto the familiar block. Lights blinked along every edge and crevice of the usually modest two-story house. Both of the trees in the yard were glowing like a nuclear disaster, as Richie had once said. But the lights weren't the worst of it. In the yard, garish snowmen fought for space with immense plastic candy canes under the malevolent gaze of a huge inflated Grinch.

"I remember the year we got the Grinch," Rita said as they drew closer. "I begged Peggy not to put it up, but she didn't listen to me."

"I think it's great," Brian said, eyes fixed on the house as they drew closer. "Really bright and cheery."

"You're going to love my family."

"I hope they like me."

Rita was silent.

Her aunt must have seen them park, because she was waiting by the door when Rita opened it, her bag slung over her shoulder. Brian came in behind her and closed the door, waiting politely while Rita's aunt got the obligatory "How are you, I haven't seen you in so long" hug out of the way.

"Let me look at you," Peggy said, holding her at arm's length. "Oh, life is agreeing with you, I can tell. I'm so glad you're home. Gillian is out with Mark, but they'll be back for dinner. I'm making roast beef and mashed potatoes. Do you still like gravy with your potatoes?"

"Sure," Rita shrugged.

Only then did Peggy notice Brian. "Oh, who's this?" Without waiting for an answer, Peggy said, "I'm sorry. I'm Peggy Landow, Rita's aunt."

Brian looked at Rita, his ears going down. "Rita, didn't tell you I was coming?"

"Oh, no, she likes to spring things on me." Rita's aunt gave a short, forced laugh. "But we're delighted to have you. Always room for one more, Rita knows that."

Faced with her aunt in the flesh, Rita hesitated, the word "boyfriend" trapped on her tongue. "Thanks, Aunt Peggy," she said, cursing herself for lacking the courage to follow through on her plans.

"We've made up your old room," Peggy said, "and I'll just bring up one of the air mattresses for Brian. I'm in the middle of dinner now, so I need to go make sure the roast doesn't burn."

"Okay," Rita said, waving to Brian to follow her up the stairs.

"You didn't tell them," Brian said, but he didn't sound angry; he sounded disappointed.

"No, I guess not," Rita said.

"You didn't even tell them I was coming."

"Well . . ." Rita didn't want to argue with Brian, especially not now. "They'd never let us stay in the same room if they knew."

"Oh." The dog followed her into her room silently, dropping his own bag on the floor while Rita tossed hers onto the bed. "I was just thinking it was nice to have a family accept me."

"I'm sure they'll accept you once they know," Rita said. "I'm gonna tell them tonight." Maybe if she promised Brian she would, she'd have the courage to go through with it.

"Oh, no!" Brian grabbed her shoulders. "You mustn't do anything that would ruin Christmas!"

Rita almost laughed at the alarm in her boyfriend's eyes, but she managed to stop herself. "Don't worry. I won't say anything to ruin Christmas." And then she heard the creak that meant that someone was coming up the stairs. Seeing a clever solution to her problem, she leaned in close to Brian and pressed her muzzle to the dog's for a nice, deep, passionate kiss.

Brian resisted at first, mumbling something around Rita's tongue like, "What if," but he didn't get any more of the question out. They remained locked together long enough for Rita to hear a brushing at the door. She cupped her ear to hear better and heard her aunt's soft intake of breath, then the footsteps as she hurried away.

Brian, with his back to the door and his ears focused on Rita, had missed it. He smiled at Rita as they parted and licked her nose. "Okay, I don't mean to be weird about it. It just . . . it means a lot to me."

"I know," Rita said. "I think it's sweet."

Rita's aunt still hadn't brought the air mattress up when she called them down to dinner half an hour later. Walking past him on her way into the dining room, Rita caught the minty scent of Listerine and knew that that meant Peggy had gone straight from her room to the liquor cabinet. She wondered if he'd confront her about it or if he'd just pretend it wasn't happening.

"Oh, Brian," Peggy said as the dog followed Rita in, "I've put your air mattress down in the rec room with Mark. There's more room in there and . . . I think you'll be more comfortable."

Meaning: I'll be more comfortable, Rita thought, but she didn't finish the thought or register Brian's "Oh," because at that moment she saw who else was seated at the table.

Her uncle was pouring wine for everyone. The glass he was currently filling was held in a large black paw that did not belong to a fox. The other black paw lay on the table, on top of the smaller black paw of Rita's cousin Gillian, and the owner of the paws said, "Thanks, Mr. Landow," and turned to look at Rita as he put his glass back

"What is he doing here?" Rita said.

The wolf grinned at Rita, cupping his black paws under his chin. "Hi, Rita. How've you been?"

"He's my boyfriend," Gillian said. "You remember Mark, I guess."

"Yeah," Rita said, sitting down hard in her chair.

"You want some wine?" Her uncle hovered over her as Brian took the chair next to her.

"Oh, yeah." Rita held up her glass.

Mark took a sip of his wine. "Alice says you're at UBC, right?"

Cautious, Rita looked back at him. "Yeah."

"That's cool. I got a scholarship to ASU, but I haven't made the team yet. It's way harder in college."

"You play sports?" Brian leaned into the conversation.

"Yeah, Mark was the champion figure skater in our high school," Rita said.

Mark laughed, while Gillian glowered at Rita. "I play baseball. I'm not that good, but I'm working at it."

"Are you studying anything, or just playing games?" Rita asked.

"Oh, I'm majoring in communications," Mark said. "I want to be a broadcaster if I don't make it in the big leagues."

"I think that's so clever of him," Rita's aunt said, bringing in a plate of green beans and setting them beside the steaming mashed potatoes. "Don't you think so, Hal?"

Rita's uncle was putting away the wine. He now turned to sit down. Before he could answer, Gillian jumped in. "You don't have to patronize him, Mom. ASU is a good school. I'm applying there, too."

"You're also applying to Cal and Stanford," Rita's uncle said. "And you're going there if you get in."

Gillian didn't say anything, but Rita didn't miss the look she gave him. Gillian was perfectly capable of going to ASU if she decided that was what she wanted. Rita had only briefly considered ASU; it would have been much cheaper and she could have probably paid her own way and been free of obligation to her family, but most of the kids from her high school who bothered with college had also gone there, and that was not a world she was keen to re-enter.

"We played Stanford last week," Mark said. "They kicked our butts." He lowered his head and looked around the table.

Rita's uncle forced out a brief laugh and waved the faux pas aside. "Wait 'til you get on the field, right, Mark?"

"Hal, this is Brian," Rita said. "He's a friend of mine."

"Hi," Brian said.

"Hal Landow," Rita's uncle said, but didn't get up to shake Brian's paw. "Welcome." Rita could tell by his demeanor that her cousin had told him what he'd seen.

"Thank you for having me," Brian said.

"All right, who wants roast beef?" Rita's aunt brought the platter into the dining room and set it down. "Hal, will you carve?"

While the food was being distributed, Rita kept sneaking looks at Mark. She was sure her cousin had started dating the jock just to torment her. Memories of having her muzzle shoved in the toilet, of being knocked down in gym class again and again, of her eighth-grade science project being trashed, all swam before her eyes as she looked at the wolf who was squeezing her cousin's paw and happily taking a plate of meat from her uncle. And he didn't even know I was heterosexual then, Rita thought. Imagine if he knew. Of course, it's probably all latent homosexuality channeled into aggression. All jocks are like that.

And that gave her an idea.

As her uncle handed her food over to her, she leaned across the table and said, "So, Mark, I forget . . . . Are you a pitcher or a catcher?"

The wolf looked back, bemused. "Right field, actually."

"Oh, right." Rita sat back with a grin and smiled at Brian, who was looking at her with his muzzle tilted. This dinner might be fun after all, she thought. "I didn't hear you guys come in," she said to Gillian, knowing she'd likely walked back from behind the house. Mark always parked back there when he had a car, his senior year; around Christmas it had the advantage that there were no garish lights, so the yard remained dark and their friends could not always see when they came in, or who with.

"We came in the back door," Gillian said.

"Oh, right." Rita nodded and looked at Mark. "You guys use the back door a lot?"

Mark looked at Gillian, then back at Rita. "Whenever we walk back from my house, yeah."

Brian was looking more annoyed now, but Rita was smirking to herself and having a much better time than she'd anticipated. She reached for a salad bowl. "Hey, Mark, want me to toss your salad for you?"

"Uh . . . sure, thanks." The wolf held out his bowl.

"We have a community baseball team in Vancouver," Rita went on. "I'm a switch-hitter, but we don't have a lot of people, so I'm also a bat girl." She gave the wolf his salad and a smile.

"Hey, that's cool," Mark said. "Community sports are great."

"I didn't know you played baseball," Rita's uncle said.

"Oh, I don't," Rita said, then, realizing she'd gone a little too far, said, "Not yet. I mean. We've just practiced a bit and we're getting ready to play in the spring."

Gillian had caught on and was now glaring at Rita too, so she eased back for a bit, but she felt a warm sense of triumph. When her uncle raised his wine glass and said "Cheers," Rita looked at Mark and said, "Bottoms up."

For the rest of the meal, Rita continued to toss flirty gay terms at the clueless jock, enjoying herself immensely. Brian spent quite a lot of time talking to Rita's aunt about her decorations or cooking or something. Rita's uncle, at the other end of the table, tried to talk to Mark about sports, but both Gillian and Rita kept interrupting to turn the conversation to their own ends, Rita just to work in more gay slang, Gillian to talk about the party some friends of hers were throwing that night.

They had barely finished eating when Gillian grabbed Mark's paw and announced that they had to get ready for the party.

"Don't you even want some dessert?" Rita's aunt called after her. "I made an eggnog custard . . ."

"That sounds great," Brian said, getting up. "Can I help clear the table?"

"Oh, no, sit down." Rita's aunt got up herself, but Brian didn't sit down. He picked up some plates and took them into the kitchen. Rita's aunt's nose wrinkled, but then she smiled and said, "Well, thank you," and followed him.

"Listen," Rita's uncle said to her quickly, "whatever you do out in Vancouver is your business, but you will not do anything like that under this roof. You will not bring any of your pervert friends home in the future. Do you understand?"

Her good humor vanished in a moment. She was five again, being scolded by her father for breaking a window or saying the wrong thing or not doing well enough at school. "Yes, sir," she said sulkily.

"Good."

Brian came back in the room, but if he noticed Rita's changed demeanor. In fact, he didn't say anything . . . at least not to her. "May I take your plate, sir?" he asked Rita's uncle.

"Of course, thank you." The older male leaned back and then tapped Rita's shoulder. "Help your aunt clean up."

Rita stood without a word and carried her own plate into the kitchen, then came back and picked up her wine glass and brought that in as well. She continued carrying one thing at a time until Brian had cleared everything else from the table, then she returned to her chair, playing with her napkin and listening to her aunt's protests from the kitchen. "Oh, Brian, you don't need to help. Go sit down. Well, okay, here, you can dry. How's that?"

Brian responded with some muffled words about how good the meal has been that Rita barely caught over the running water. Her uncle finished his wine, poured another glass, and said, "So, how are your studies going?"

"Fine," Rita said, curling her tail under her chair.

"Exams all go okay?"

"Yeah."

Her uncle took a drink of wine. "What are you taking next term?"

"Oh, I don't know. History of Urbanization, Linguistics 101, that kind of thing."

"Did you look into that Legal Studies course? David Miller knows the guy who's teaching it, says he's really good."

"Uncle Hal, I don't want to go to law school."

"You don't have to go to law school. I'm just saying, keep your horizons open. Don't just do this sociology thing because it's easy."

"I'll look at the class."

"That's all I'm asking. Have you heard from your cousin lately?"

"Yeah, he's having a great time over in Amsterdam."

"He's also learning a lot. That's a great experience. Does UBC have a semester abroad program? I don't know if you could get into it every year, like he has . . ."

"I dunno."

"Maybe Richie would know. You can ask when we call him tomorrow."

Fortunately, Rita was spared from prolonging the agonized conversation by the arrival of dessert. She found her aunt's eggnog custard far too sweet. She didn't like eggnog in general, but this time she was glad to see it. She took the overlarge portion she dished out and choked it down while Brian ate enthusiastically. "Really good, Ms. Landow," he said. Rita's aunt flicked her tail and beamed.

"What sort of food are you used to having?" she asked. "If you like, I could try to add a side dish to dinner tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't mind," he said. "This is all delicious."

"It's no trouble," she insisted, making Rita wonder whether she was going out of her way to be nice to Brian just to annoy her. "If there's something you'd like?" When Brian hesitated, she pressed. "There is. Go ahead, tell me!"

He smiled and lowered his ears, one of those adorable self-conscious gestures that had first attracted Rita to him. "Well . . . my mom made really good mochos. You know what those are?"

"Of course!" Rita's aunt smiled. "I'm sure I have a recipe around. I'll add that to my list when I go to the store tomorrow."

"My aunt has a good mocho recipe," Rita's uncle said.

"I'm sure she does, Hal." Peggy turned to Brian. "Do you know your mom's recipe?"

"Not precisely," Brian said, looking at the older male, who had shrugged and was taking another drink of wine. "But I could guess at it."

"That would be delightful. Why don't you come to the store with me?"

"Aunt Peggy!" Rita protested. "I was gonna show him around town tomorrow."

"Well, you come along too," she said. "The store's in town."

Brian turned to Rita. His smile was genuine. "I'd like to go."

It felt as though everyone were conspiring against her. "Fine," she said, slouching down in her chair, ears flat against her head. She played with her fork and plate until her uncle reached out and took the fork from her paw, placing it on the table without a word.

Brian had to help clean up, of course, so Rita went alone upstairs to her room and met her cousin and Mark on their way down. She contrived to rub her rump against Mark as she passed him on the stairs and that made her feel a little better.

Gillian stopped after she'd passed Rita and said, "Mark, go on and wait for me out back. I just want to talk to Rita."

"Sure." The wolf shrugged and disappeared around the bottom of the staircase.

"What's up?" Rita said.

"Listen," Gillian said. "I don't care who you bring home or if you're a binge eater, but stay away from my boyfriend, okay?"

"Hey, I'm just having a bit of fun."

"I know exactly what you're trying to do." Gillian then smirked. "And you might as well not bother anyway. After this Christmas, you'll be the only kid they have left and you'll never get out of coming back."

"What's that supposed to mean? Hey!" Gillian had given her a saucy wave and skipped on down the stairs, flouncing her hair in the annoying way she did when she was particularly smug about something.

Rita stared after her. She'd brought home a boyfriend and her mother and uncle appeared to like him. If they hadn't kicked her out by now, there wasn't much else she could do.

Her words stayed with Rita, though. If they kicked Gillian out and Richie continued to remain abroad, she really would be their last kid and, heterosexual or not, they'd want her at home. Her uncle hadn't said anything about her being kicked out, just that he couldn't bring her boyfriends home. Though her aunt appeared to like Brian so much, she thought she might want to sleep with her.

That thought irked her so much that her fur bristled up. She took off her shirt to brush herself down. She hadn't brought her favorite brush from school, but her second favorite had stayed at home. She ran it through her fur in slow, gentle strokes, feeling herself calm down as she did.

Brian came back into the room, glanced at her, and picked up his bag.

"Hey," Rita said, "if you finish brushing me, I'll do you."

The dog stared at her, then put the bag down. "You sure you wouldn't rather go run after that guy?"

"Oh, come on," Rita said. "I was just havin' some fun! Why is everyone all bent out of shape about it?"

"Well, you told me you told your family about us and you didn't. Then you spend all dinner flirting with your cousin's boyfriend. I'm sorry, but that's not how my family celebrates Christmas." Brian seemed almost to be on the verge of tears.

Rita crossed the room and took his paws. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just stressful for me, being home. I know Mark from way back. He used to bully me, back in middle school, then he ignored me through high school. He was one of the jocks, the cool guys. I was just a dirty fox. So I just wanted to make fun of him, toss out all those words that he wouldn't understand and laugh at him. Did you see his expression when I offered to toss his salad?"

"Still," Brian said, but the corners of his mouth were crinkling upward.

"It was like this." Rita put on her best "duh" expression and tilted her ears all askew.

Brian giggled. "Stop it." He half-heartedly pushed Rita away.

Rita held on. "You see what I mean? It was just harmless fun."

"Well, don't do it again, okay?"

Rita held a paw to her heart. "Promise."

Brian nodded and turned his muzzle back toward Rita, who leaned in for a kiss. She was already getting aroused just from being so close to Brian. When she got her kiss, her heart jumped nicely to attention. She rubbed a paw into Brian's leg, but the dog pulled back. "Rita . . ., not now."

Rita growled in frustration, then grinned. "Yeah, you're right. Tell you what . . . sneak up here tonight after midnight. My aunt and uncle are always asleep by then."

"I don't want to cause more trouble . . ."

"Just be careful going past their room. The floorboards right outside their door squeak; they leave them that way intentionally. Come 'ere." She led her boyfriend outside and pointed to the hallway rug. "They'll leave a night light on in the hall. If you jump over that flower pattern there, you'll be fine." She demonstrated.

"All right." Brian heaved his bag over his shoulder. "I'll go get the bed set up and then I'll come back up to hang out for a bit."

They relaxed together on Rita's bed listening to music (Rita said she didn't have any Christmas music, when Brian asked) until her uncle came up to tell them he was going to bed. He knocked on the door even though it was ajar, and coughed to announce himself. Rita said, "Yeah, come in," and resisted the urge to say, "We're not doing anything."

"You guys go ahead and stay up if you want, but your aunt's going to make breakfast around eight, so if you want some, be up by then."

"Okay. Thanks, Uncle Hal," Rita said.

Brian chimed in with thanks as well.

They heard Rita's aunt and uncle close the door to their room and then Brian grinned at Rita and kissed her on the nose. "I'll head down to sleep too. I'll come back in an hour and a half." He brushed Rita's stomach through her shirt.

Rita was horny again at the thought, almost immediately. She kissed Brian back and thumped her tail against the bed. "I'll be right here."

She had intended to take a nap, but after Brian left, her feelings of arousal didn't go down no matter how much she tried to think of other things. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling and made it twenty minutes before starting to fondle herself. At eleven-thirty, she had to stop or she was going to jerk herself all the way off, so she turned over on her stomach and ground her hips ineffectually into the soft sheets.

At eleven-forty-five, she heard her cousin and Mark come home and heard her aunt talking to them. She'd forgotten Peggy would wait up for them. She cursed her cousin for staying out so late. Brian would never come up if he saw Rita's aunt waiting there. Fortunately, she followed Gillian upstairs and went to bed at the same time.

Hopefully, Rita thought, she would be tired enough that she would fall asleep quickly. By twelve-fifteen, she was so horny she didn't care whether her aunt and uncle heard them or not. She flipped back over onto her back, sliding her paw along her furry vanilla belly in preparation for Brian walking through the door, imagining all the things they would do. Brian's muzzle on her, her tail up as Brian mounted her, or maybe Brian would be in the mood to be mounted. She could bury her face in his warm, furry butt . . .

Twelve-thirty came and went.

"Come on, Brian," Rita muttered.

At twelve-forty, she decided that Brian must have fallen asleep. She slid out of bed, trying to drive out the perverted thoughts that captivated her mind, but with very little success. An old terrycloth robe hung on the back of the door to her room. Fortunately, she found that it still fit.

She crept past Gillian's room and was just about to jump the flower pattern when a hiss startled her. Spinning as quietly as she could, she saw Gillian peering out through the slightly open door of her room. "Psst," she said again.

"What? You'll wake up Uncle Hal and Aunt Peggy."

"Nah, Mom had a glass of vodka before going to bed. She'll be out cold. Listen, are you going downstairs to get together with Brian?"

"Yeah."

"Could you tell Mark to come up, too? I think he fell asleep."

Her first reaction was to say no, but she was too slow; Gillian disappeared back into her room, leaving the door ajar. I'm not your errand girl, she thought, but then it occurred to her that if Mark came upstairs, she and Brian could do whatever they wanted in the rec room. She slipped back to her room to grab the lubricant she'd packed and then skirted her aunt's room without a sound and walked down the stairs to keep her claws from clicking on the wood.

Through the living room, she went into the rec room by the light of the Christmas trees, bright as day to her eyes. Of course her aunt left the trees on twenty-four-seven once it got this close to the holidays, but the Christmas music in the rec room was probably Brian's doing. It had been left at a low pitch, but Rita's ears caught the strains of "Here Comes Santa Clause" as she walked through the doorway.

She had no trouble seeing Brian on the air mattress on the other side of the rec room tree, which she saw was festooned with all her and his family's favorite ornaments from years past. The dog appeared to be sound asleep, not even sitting up waiting for her, or waiting for the coast to be clear. Rita felt a twinge of annoyance. Wasn't Brian as horny as she was? Well, she'd wake up Mark and get rid of him and then they'd have a nice and naughty Christmas cuddle by the tree.

The wolf was sleeping on the couch, an old comfortable blanket soaked with the scents of Rita and her brother from countless hours of watching TV, playing games, listening to stories, and just hanging out. Rita was amused that the wolf had chosen to sleep there. He must have been in love with her cousin's scent or something, or else he didn't care about smell and thought the couch was more comfortable than the air mattress that lay unused on the floor.

Rita walked quietly up to Mark and put a paw on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Turned away from him, the wolf didn't stir. "Hey," she whispered, shaking him a little harder.

Mark's large form stirred; his paw twitched and fell off the couch, hanging down to the floor. He turned over onto his back and opened his eyes. Rita could see the reflections of the Christmas lights in them. The sight was so unexpectedly pretty that she hesitated for a moment before saying anything.

A large paw grabbed the front of her robe and pulled her down. Rita barely had time to register a moment of panic before there was a tongue in her mouth and the taste of teenager and beer pounded her senses. The initial rush of panic made her struggle, but the paw's grip was unbreakable. She found herself responding to the kiss, sliding her tongue against the other and pushing her lips further against the larger, broader lips.

And then another paw brushed her leg under the hem of her robe and moved up, nails teasing the inside of her thigh, making her soft moans reverberate in the wolf's mouth. The small part of her mind that was coherent enough to wonder if this was really happening was drowned out by the surging song of her hormones. She waited, trembling, for the paw to reach her sash. When it did it slipped up underneath it as though it wasn't even there, claws moving through her fur all the way up to her chest, shifting for a better angle. His fingers cupped her fur before the soft paws moved down her warm chest to grip her moistened vagina.

Her first thought, that the sleepy, drunk teenager had mistaken her for her cousin, was clearly wrong, because the paw started to pump her, showing no signs of alarm at all. She shuddered at the paw's firm strokes, up and down. She moaned again. While the paw remained firm in her, the other abruptly let go of her robe.

The kiss broke in an instant. Rita found herself gulping for breath inches from the bright eyes, dancing with Christmas lights and other, more primal gleams. Slowly, the long pink tongue that had just been licking the inside of her mouth curved around from one side of Mark's lips to the other.

The paw that had held her robe found Rita's paw and pulled it down to the muscular chest, covered with only a thin T-shirt. When a mesmerized Rita placed her paw on the T-shirt and Mark saw the bottle of lubricant, his eyes widened slightly, then his face spread into a wider grin. He got up from the couch without pulling his paw out of Rita's vagina and led the fox out of the rec room and into the living room, through the kitchen, and to the back porch.

"W-wait," Rita said finally as he closed the screen door gently behind him. The night was cool, but not cold. She was burning inside anyway, her legs shaking from the heat of the paw shoved up her clit.

Mark turned to look at her, a little annoyed. Rita could see his breath, barely, a wisp of white in the cold air. "What?"

"You're . . ." The words dissipated before she could even form them. Her wit, her facility with words, all deserted her.

The wolf squeezed her vulva, rubbing a thumb inside the sensitive area, making Rita gasp. "Yeah?"

"I . . . but . . ."

Mark finally removed his paw. "Why did you wake me up?"

Rita looked longingly at the paw, wanting nothing more than to have it back inside her again. She looked at the broad chest and thoughts of Brian evaporated as quickly as her breath vanished in the air. "To . . . tell you to go upstairs . . ."

The wolf grinned at her. "This is more private." He reached over and undid the front of Rita's robe. "So what's the problem? Come on, you were flirting all through dinner. You said you're a bat girl. Well, I've got a nice bat for you."

Rita's gaze shifted to the bulge underneath Mark's shirt and she smiled. She reached out and brushed the back of her paw up it. "You sure do," she said. The length was big and hard. As she kept rubbing her paw along it, she felt the dampness at the tip even through the shirt.

"And you came prepared, didn't you?" Mark was looking at the bottle of lubricant.

Rita had forgotten about it; now she grinned. "Yeah."

"You think you can take this big bat?"

Rita pulled the shirt off, exposing the wolf's erection. It looked dark in the moonlight and felt hot as the wolf gripped it in her paw, pulsing with warm life. She met the taller wolf's eyes and gave him her best smirk. "Oh, I can take it." Even if she couldn't, she was so desperate for it now that she would've said the line anyway.

Mark reached out and pushed the robe off her shoulders. Rita let it fall to the ground, then stood naked on the aging wood of her back porch. She sucked in her stomach, basking in the wolf's scrutiny and watching his expression. Slowly, she let her tail wag back and forth as she reached out for the dark, tempting shaft again.

As she grasped it, the black paw enveloped her vulva again, sliding up in an expertly firm stroke. Before she knew it, they were kissing again, mouths locked together in a hot embrace as their paws pumped up and down, the kind of moment Rita had often read about and never shared, hot and passionate and apart from the rest of the world, existing only for them. The taste of wolf overwhelmed her, the hot arousal was silky smooth against her paw. The deliciously cool breeze ruffled her fur.

Mark's paw was soft and before she knew it, Rita was gasping and moaning into the other's mouth. The wolf stopped and stepped back, grinning. "You ready now?"

"God, yes," Rita panted and dropped to all fours, her paws spread out on the old wooden boards of the porch. In the moonlight, she could see the grain of the wood, the places where the boards had buckled against each other. She remembered sitting on the porch with her brother and cousin, playing cards on days when it was too hot to go out into the sun, her aunt bringing cactus juice out to them. She grinned fiercely at the memories, thinking that she was just playing a different kind of game now, with a different kind of friend.

She heard the soft squirt of the lubricant bottle. Her heart jumped in response. I'm so conditioned, she thought, closing her eyes, her whole body thrumming with desire. She arched her tail, signaling her readiness, even though she realized that was something she did with Brian (and had done with Nathan, previously), but Mark did not know.

It was apparently a universal signal. When the touch came, under her tail, she shivered and raised her head, looking at the wicker furniture and the small, low table she'd grown up with. Did she ever imagine she'd be staring at it on her paws and knees while getting it from Mark Winter on Christmas Eve? She moaned as the fingers teased her rear end, spreading the cool slickness around the hole, then closed her eyes as thick fingers pushed inside her.

They worked her rear for only a brief time before sliding out, quickly replaced by what she'd been longing for. The hardened penis probed and then pushed, thrusting deeply into her as the wolf's body engulfed her from above, arms circling her chest, legs pressed up against hers, stomach trapping her tail against her back. She whined at the thick length. Mark nipped her ear. "You okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Rita panted.

"Okay. Keep quiet then, or I'll have to keep you quiet." A paw reached up and held her muzzle shut, then released it. Rita growl and laughed and then had to clamp her mouth shut herself as Mark's other paw, the one with the lubricant still dripping from it, found her moistened vagina and gave it a couple quick strokes. The wolf's hips slid out and then back and Rita muffled a squeak.

Mark nipped her ear again. "This isn't gonna take long," he said, pulling back for another thrust. This time he held onto Rita's ear as he pushed deeply back in.

"Uh-uh," Rita panted, feeling the wolf slide in and out of her faster and faster, the large knot already stretching her as it slid in and out. As it swelled further, Rita felt more resistance getting it inside her. A couple of thrusts later, Mark stopped pushing it in at all, just sinking the rest of his length into Rita and pulling back out. He might not know how to tie a tie properly, Rita thought, to the extent that she could still think with that back and forth motion under her tail and the paw pumping her.

She felt the surge of pleasure all at once, clenching in her midsection and then exploding from her in waves. Behind her, the wolf's thrusts mirrored her shudders as the larger teenager held her tightly and emptied himself into Rita's rear, growling and panting into the fox's large ear.

"Mmmm!" Rita moaned through clenched teeth as the familiar smell of her own musk rose steaming through the chill night to her nose.

"Uhh . . . uhh . . ." Mark panted. "Oh, man." He gulped. Rita felt the long exhalation of breath across her ear. "You smell pretty good, you know?"

"Thanks," she said inanely, her head still spinning from her climax.

Mark slid back and out of her and Rita found herself pressing back to try to keep the wolf inside her, unused to being vacated so quickly after a climax. Brian liked to tie with her, and so had Nathan. She liked the ten or fifteen minutes of quiet afterwards. The wolf, though, was already standing and putting his shirt back on. "Thanks," he said, waving a paw and yawning. "Night."

"Night." Rita waved and watched Mark stand with the screen door open, looking back as the wolf admired (she felt) her naked body. The wolf was pretty handsome himself. Rita couldn't believe she'd missed the signs that he was interested in her in her rush to make a fool of him. Her radar had been seriously out of whack, or maybe just out of practice since she'd been dating Brian. And really, she'd always expected athletes to be heterosexual, or maybe she'd hoped they would be. She was just surprised when it turned out that way.

Mark gave her one last look, a smile, then went into the kitchen, tail swaying behind him as he eased the door closed.

Rita sat back on her haunches and looked at the mess on the porch. She was sleepy now and certainly didn't feel like cleaning it up. If her aunt and uncle found it, they'd know what she'd done. So she would leave it there. They couldn't mistake the smell. She grinned down at the stain and pulled her robe on.

By the time she got upstairs, she was in pretty dire need of the bathroom. She was halfway inside, fingers poised over the light switch, when she heard a "Psst!" from across the hall. It wasn't until that very moment that she remembered Gillian. It occurred to her that she'd just had sex with her boyfriend. "What?" she hissed back.

Gillian motioned for her to come into her room, but Rita shook her head, turned on the light, and started to close the bathroom door. "Gillian!" she whispered as Gillian jumped across the hall and into the bathroom.

Gillian pushed the door closed. "Just tell me if he's coming up. I'm tired."

"No." Rita backed away from her, looking for something to cover her scent. "I, uh, couldn't get him up . . ." She coughed to cover her laugh at her own words.

"You mean you got distracted with your butt pirate," Gillian said, sniffing. "Is that K-Y? Honestly, Rita, you . . ." Her nose wrinkled.

Rita tried to back away more. "Yeah, sorry. Look, just go ahead on down and . . ."

"That's him!" Gillians's eyebrows shot straight up and her nostrils flared. "You rat! You total scumbag! You couldn't stand that I have a cuter boyfriend, so you went and slept with him!"

"Hey! Brian's plenty cute."

"Then why didn't you sleep with him? Huh? You are such a slut, Rita." She shoved her in the chest, hard, and she almost fell backwards over the toilet.

"Jeez, Gillian, calm down." Rita's heart was pounding now, because she realized that she didn't really know this young lady whose eyes were blazing, whose hair was bristled out, who looked about ready to clench a fist and pop her one.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Gillian said. "I told you to stay away from him, but you couldn't listen, could you? You always have to be the best one, always have to have the last word. Well, fine, you can have the last word, because you're gonna be the last one here." She looked on the verge of tears.

Rita reached out and said, "Hey, Gillian . . ."

"Piss off," Gillian snarled and slammed the bathroom door closed on her way out.

Rita stared at it for only a moment before locking it. While she was taking care of her need, she heard a light knocking at the door. "Rita? Gillian? Is everything okay?" Her aunt sounded not at all sleepy.

"Fine," Rita said. "Sorry, the door slipped."

"Oh, okay. Sleep well, dear."

"Thanks. I sure will."