Author's Note:
Sorry it took so long. There was a lot of slash/burn/editing.
As always, opinions and comments are welcome!
Enjoy this next installment!
6:45 PM
Driving Reggie's car, Jack followed the map on his phone's navigation app to the Hopps Farm. They lived south of Bunnyburrow City Centre, which put them a thirty-minute drive from the remote Agency complex. He was impressed at the size of the property; Stu Hopps had done well for himself.
The phone rang in secure mode drawing Jack's attention away from his thoughts about Cynthia. He looked at the incoming caller ID: Chief Bogo.
"Good evening, Chief," he answered chipperly, putting the phone on paws-free.
"Don't I wish," the buffalo commiserated. "I'm hoping you can help me with something."
"I will do my best Chief," Jack said. "But I am not sure what I could do that the Mayor could not much easier."
"Well," the chief said, "this concerns the Ryzhaya case."
"Of course, it would," Jack mumbled. "When it rains Barateans, it pours. What can I do for you, Chief?"
"As 'fortune' would have it," Bogo told him, "we found a positive match for the weapon used on the victim."
"That is fortunate indeed, Chief," Jack said, wondering at the frustrated tone in the buffalo's voice. "Something tells me, however, it is not all good fortune."
"It's a Wolfram WDY-22," the Chief revealed.
"A Woody-22? Those are Federal-issued, self-defense weapons," Jack said, surprised. "ZIA and ZBI, mostly. So, Chief, who is our culprit?"
"That's where I hope you can help, Director Savage," the buffalo said, letting Jack know he had finally figured out the buck's position in the Agency. "The results came back 'CLASSIFIED - EYES ONLY - LEVEL 8.'"
"Level 8 means senior personnel, Chief," Jack told him, understanding Bogo's frustration now. "And, please call me Jack; 'Director' makes me feel I should be sitting bored in an office all day."
The Chief laughed at that. "Like me? You must have one heck of a staff, Jack."
"That, I do, Chief," Jack confessed. "Send me the files. I will have that excellent staff of mine look into it at once. Just remember, I can only get access to Agency records."
"On their way, Jack," Bogo said. "But I think you feel as I do, that the Baratean connection makes an Agency perp a tempting choice for a betting mammal."
"I would certainly make that bet, Chief," Jack told him, thinking about Arthur's sudden resignation. He used a somewhat-speciest Bunnyburrow expression he'd heard that morning. "I have a feeling a fox has gotten into the henhouse."
"Let me know what you find out, Jack. See you at the funeral, on Monday."
"My pleasure, Chief," Jack said, hanging up. The phone chimed next with the receipt of the data file from Chief Bogo. Jack sent it to Matilda, then gave the ewe a call.
"Hi, Jack," she said. "Did you have anything to do with Arthur's resignation?"
"Took me quite by surprise," he told her, truthfully. "He laid out a convincing story, with plenty of evidence to support his position. He even offered me a job in the finance business."
"I hope you didn't say no," she teased. "The way things are going, we both might be out of a job soon."
Jack chuckled. "I just sent you a file," he said. "Chief Bogo's officers found out a Woody-22 was used in the Ryzhaya murder with a Level-8 roadblock in front the owner."
"You did tell him we can only check Agency records, right?" she said.
"Most certainly, Matilda," he assured her. "Are you at the office, by any chance?"
"Where else would I be, Jack?" she deadpanned.
"Well, about that, Matty," he said. "Are you still seeing that ram in Plainsville?"
"Where are you going with this, Jack?"
"You like him, don't you?"
"Are you looking for advice about Skye?" she asked, suspiciously.
"I will take anything you have, Matty, but no," he said. "I overheard you saying you wanted to spend more time with Marcus—it's those big ears of mine, you know."
"OK, Jack," she said. "Spit it out. What are you up to?"
"I may have recommended you for Arthur's position," he said, timidly. "You're not angry at me, are you? I cannot think of any mammal more qualified for running that department... Matty…? Are you there…? You're angry, aren't you?"
"I don't know what to say, Jack," Matilda said, flustered for once. "Who's going to take care of the office when I'm gone? …Nobody even knows how to make a decent cup of coffee..."
"I think we can survive, Matilda," Jack said, affectionately. "Ops needs cleaning up and you're the mammal for the job."
"When do I start?" she asked.
"Tuesday," he told her. "Memo should be in on Monday, after the funeral. I would really appreciate it if you could run that registry check tonight, though."
"I'll get right on it, Jack."
"Thank you, Director," he said.
"Remind me to kiss you next time I see you," she said. "And, just tell Skye you love her, Jack. She probably knows it, but it's much better when you say it—as often as you can. Foxes are extremely sensitive that way."
"I shall endeavor to follow your advice, oh wise sheep," he said, hanging up. He was nearing the gates of the Hopps farm.
Jack pressed the call button on the small pedestal rising from the ground next to the road in front of the gates. After a few seconds, a male voice answered.
"Who's there?" asked the voice, sounding metallic and far away on the little speaker.
"Jack Savage," he said. "Here to pay my respects to the family."
"Savage? We don't need no stinkin' savages here, mister," came the outraged response.
"I am not a savage, sir," Jack said. "My name is Jack Savage. I was a friend of Judith and Nicholas." There was some loud feedback, making Jack's ears go flat against his head.
"What kinda mammal names themselves, 'Savage,'" complained the voice. "Why can't they just pick for themselves a common name, like Chloroprodsky, or something?"
"What?"
"I mean, why pick a name all controversial like that?" the metallic voice said. "Might as well call yourself Broccoli and be done with it, if you know what I mean."
"I don't follow you, sir," Jack said, then cringed at his poor choice of words.
"You wanna shock mammals with your name," the voice ranted, "at least pick one that don't scare half of'em to death. You can't just walk up to mammals and say, 'Hi, I'm Savage.' They'll just start runnin' away, know what I mean? Just say, 'Hi! I'm Broccoli,' and the they'll tell ya 'Wow, that's an unusual name,' right? I—" More feedback, then, "Give me that, Tommy. Wait till your ma hears about this," came another voice. "Can I help you, mister?"
"My name is Jack," he repeated. "I'm here from Zootopia to pay my respects to the family."
"Grey hare? Stripes on your face? They've been waiting for ya. Come on in. Be sure to use the underground parking lot; supposed to be a storm coming soon."
The gates swung open and Jack drove through. The sun was setting, sinking behind the hill that was the Hopps burrow, the lights from inside shining through the many windows and making the home look like a bejeweled mountain. Jack whistled. That was a lot of bunnies.
He reached the front of the burrow, from where he could see a massive lighted archway a short way down the road leading down to a vast underground parking area. There were at least two hundred vehicles, from passenger cars to trucks to combines. A big sign hanging above the entrance said, 'Put keys in matching slot at door – No exceptions!'
As soon as Jack had passed into the main lot, chain shutters dropped down to close off the entrance. He found an empty space marked 'Guests' near the doors leading to the burrow, then put his keys in the transparent plastic box that matched his parking space number. Highly organized, he thought with approval—definitely necessary with a small town living on the premises: The Hopps farm even had its own zip code, he'd found out.
An attractive young doe was waiting attentively for him at the door. She gave Jack an appraising look, smiling wide.
"I'm Margaret," she introduced herself, offering the back of her paw. She didn't have that twangy Bunnyburrow accent, surprisingly enough to Jack. "You got here just in time for dinner. We're having a special treat tonight with so many guests here. Restroom's around the corner if you need to freshen up."
"That won't be necessary, Margaret," he told her, kissing her paw gallantly. The doe's eyes widened at Jack's upper-class foreign accent. "Call me Jack." Margaret's nose started twitching.
"Follow me, then, Jack," she purred, leading him through the burrow. It took a few minutes, but they arrived at a formal dining hall while the small table—it only had seating for thirty—was still being set.
"Are you good with numbers?" Margaret asked.
"Depends on the numbers," Jack said.
"4-7-4-2," she said.
"4-7-4-2?"
"That's my room number when you're ready for dessert," she purred, stepping up on her toes to plant a thorough kiss on his lips, then leaving Jack alone to stare at her retreating figure. Jack whistled. 'Country bunnies,' he thought.
His ears picked up conversation from an adjacent archway. Then his heart fluttered when Cynthia's rich laugh broke through the conversation. He stood there, listening to the vixen's voice, not really paying attention to what was being said, and then he was suddenly standing in the archway, looking into a small lounge with comfortable couches arranged around the room.
Nick was visibly upset, with Judy sitting on his lap, stroking his face and talking softly to him. On the same couch, Reggie sat with a stunningly attractive doe on his lap, both of them lost to the world around them, whispering to each other and giggling like teenagers. On another couch, Jack recognized Stu Hopps from pictures and guessed the pregnant doe next to him was Bonnie Hopps, Judy's mother, who was talking to Cynthia, sharing stories about her kits.
Jack stood there, captivated by the vixen. She was bruised and cut, with a sports bandage wrapped tightly around her knee, wearing her old, at-home old exercise clothes. She was the most beautiful mammal he had ever seen.
She caught sight of him and paused mid-sentence, her eyes lighting up and her posture relaxing noticeably.
"Jack," she said, in the tone he'd only heard when they were alone.
"Cynthia," he mumbled, everything else he'd rehearsed forgotten, unable to break through years of hiding his feelings. They stared at each other in silence until Stu broke the moment by standing up.
"Perfect timing," the patriarch said, cheerfully coming up to Jack to shake his paw. "I'm Stu Hopps. This is my better half, Bonnie; my daughters Jemina, Dalia and… the one glued to Reggie is Elena; then my sons Jethro and Kevin. Of course, you know Skye; Reggie; our 'dead' daughter Judy; and her mate, Nicholas."
"A pleasure to meet you all," Jack said, pleasantly.
"And, let's not forget our other guests," Stu said. Jack turned around to see the mammals he had missed sitting on the couches behind him. He understood Nick's mood, now, as Stu introduced them.
"Dr. Reylands and his lovely assistant, Trina."
7:04 PM
Even taking her time and waiting for the chaperones, Alexandra had only needed twenty minutes to fetch their things; two travel cases didn't need a lot of preparation. Now she sat outside the sleeping room, where she had spent the last forty-five minutes blushing furiously while her father serviced his wives. As a twenty-four-year-old Baratean, Alexandra was no stranger to mammals mating given that public coupling between married mammals was not unusual in the northern-most nation. Whether in the booths at the theater, or in the park during one of the few warm days of summer, it was considered a sign of a strong union, and, sometimes, even required to settle disputes when a challenge was made against a spouse by outside parties looking to dissolve the marriage. Deliberately taking your mate in front of someone could also be a veiled insult to the observing party, showing their insignificance, or it could be a polite, subtle assertion of the mating couple's dominance. In poorer households where the whole family slept in the same room to save heat, mating was a simple fact for kits, something their parents did together.
What had the doe blushing was her mother, Abigail. As inexperienced as the older doe was in practice, she turned out to be a vast encyclopedia on techniques, positions and mammalian physiology. Blinded, as she and Father had been at the start, she recited detailed instructions on how Father could best please his other wives, and even taught him a move that had set Mother Chia howling with pleasure.
When Father had finished with Mother Chia, Mother Abigail had explained to her sister wives how to get Father ready again quickly, obviously showing them and not just talking. Abigail's passionate cries were proof of success. Nor were these the measured, faked cries Alexandra remembered from Abigail's contract with her second husband. Abigail was completely lost in her desire for Father, finishing in a few seconds before sending him on to Mother Windbright, having 'warmed him up.'
Again, Abigail guided the couple, Mother Palila and Mother Chia clapping giddily and commenting on the performance. Mother Windbright's sensuous growls sent chills up Alexandra's spine.
"I'm ready for you this time, my lord," the feline purred, then roared in ecstasy. Then Abigail demonstrated her technique once more, loudly 'warming up' Father for Mother Palila.
"Hello, Abigail," Father said sweetly, regaining his eyesight. "You are as beautiful as I thought."
"And you are as handsome as I dreamed," Abigail said, crying out in passion. Settling down, Abigail purred loudly. "Sister Palila is anxious for your company, my lord," she said.
"Disappointed, my lord?" came Mother Palila's sad question.
"Only that I missed seeing you the first time," Father told her sincerely.
Alexandra was having trouble reconciling what she had researched about Father and what she was hearing. Where was the cruel, cold, calculating brute that had terrorized the Empire for over twenty years as the Pack's enforcer? She saw no sign of the famously vicious temper touted by his opponents. She sat amidst his collection of vanquished foes and couldn't come to terms with how the mammal in the next room could have accumulated such a fantastic display of brutality.
Mother Abigail's advice soon had Mother Palila moaning. Alexandra heard a light slap.
"There is just one rule, my lord," Abigail said. "Paws on the mate you're with. All we have, all we are is yours; so, when you are with one of us, we deserve your full attention." Alexandra's other three mothers all growled their agreement.
"But, you…" Father protested.
"And, don't argue with us," Mother Chia added with finality.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Father said meekly.
"Are you back, yet, Alexandra?" called out Mother Chia.
"Yes, Mamá," Alexandra responded.
"Well, come in, dear," Chia told her. "It is so dreary out there with all those stuffed animals. I don't want you having nightmares tonight."
"Yes, Mamá," Alexandra said, coming into the room. Mother Palila lay on her back, her arms and legs wrapped greedily around Father, who had a dreamy look on his face, his hips thrusting in a strange motion against Palila's. She tenderly nuzzled his head, her own eyes showing a far-away look. Alexandra's other three mothers were cuddled against the polar bear.
Windbright and Chia had their ears pressed against Abigail's belly, listening to her kits and fascinated by the little kicks coming from inside. Abigail had a blissful look of contentment on her face, bathing in her sister wives' acceptance of her as an equal partner in the marriage, one arm around Chia and one around Windbright.
Alexandra was overwhelmed by the dynamics taking place before her and wished she had a camera. She began to believe it was all real. Father wasn't mechanically servicing Palila or simply using her as a convenient receptacle to pleasure himself. He was taking comfort in her embrace, enjoying the wonder that was Palila while trying his best to give her pleasure and make her feel wanted.
"I believe Father is falling asleep," Alexandra said.
"I just didn't have the time to properly introduce myself to Palila, this afternoon," Father mumbled.
"You were wonderful, my lord," Palila moaned.
"I was rushed," he apologized. "Now I can truly enjoy your beauty."
"Are you drooling, Father?"
"Why are all you ladies picking on me?"
"We're not picking on you, my lord," Windbright said. "We are merely enhancing your inherent ability to give and receive pleasure." Chia laughed.
"Remember, my lord," Abigail said, "swing upwards at the end."
"He is doing it perfectly," Palila moaned urgently, hips rocking now.
"I believe our sister has reached the top of the rollercoaster," Chia said.
"Too soon," Father panted as Palila quivered from tip to toe.
"I'll take care of it, my lord," Windbright said, mischievously snaking her tail around his and snapping it tight. Father yipped and went rigid, his eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure.
"What happened?" asked Chia.
"How did you do that?" asked Abigail.
"Do it again!" groaned Palila.
Father drooled.
Alexandra sighed happily. "I love you," she told them all, then went to fetch clothes for her parents. They had dinner scheduled with Lord Chalcedon in thirty minutes, though the Ambassador was likely only expecting Mother Chia. Oh, well, she thought, laughing. He had said for Father to bring his wife. He would.
All four of them.
7:20 PM
Nick was not a happy camper. It was bad enough that Judy had not told him about encountering the lynx who shot him, but then inviting him over to dinner? She was still holding something back from him, but that was the thing about trust: He knew that if Judy believed it was the least bit dangerous, she would tell him about it.
That was also baking his cookies: His mate believed having dinner with the mammal that almost killed him was a good idea. It was driving him crazy. What did she know that she wasn't sharing? He took the time to study the lynx and his 'assistant' that reeked of the lynx. Not that Nick could hold that against him. Trina was a classy bunny, also very sexy in that black fur and white mini, though Nick was aware he was biased when it came to black fur.
And the bunny's table manners were impeccable. Better than Nick's mother, whom he had always thought had the best manners he'd ever seen. Which led to another sticking point: The lynx had manners just as good, or even better, making Nick frantically brush up on his own. That Jack and Cynthia also had better manners than he was used to showing only made Nick redouble his efforts, making Judy look at him with surprise—and a little annoyance: Judy's table manners were definitely on the informal side. Served her right for holding out on him.
Cynthia was on the verge of tears, though Nick doubted anyone but himself could see it. She kept glancing at Jack, who had been seated across the table from her, right next to the black bombshell in the white mini. The two rabbits were getting along famously, speaking in different languages, talking about faraway places, strange customs, and everything in between. The lynx was completely unconcerned that his marked female was consorting with another attractive male. He was conversing with Stu and Bonnie about several big local issues the City Council was considering. Not a single hint that he was a cold-blooded murderer who had almost made Judy a widow, of course.
Cynthia was pregnant, but the mammal she really loved was a rabbit, who had eyes for everyone but her. Nick wanted to cry as well. He would talk to Judy; she seemed to have gotten close to Cynthia, and this was the kind of thing girls handled better by themselves. And he definitely didn't want Cynthia to mistake his concern for anything but what it was. Maybe he could speak with Jack to better test the waters—if the buck didn't shack up with Black Beauty, tonight.
"What are you planning, Slick?" Judy whispered, sensing his mood.
"I'm thinking about talking to Jack," he whispered back.
"Keep your nose out of it, Nick," she whispered tersely. "It's under control."
"Cynthia's falling apart," he said. "It's bad enough she's pregnant, but she's in love with Jack. I can't just do nothing, Fluff."
Judy smiled, touching his paw. "Don't worry, Nick," she whispered. "Jack's the father."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, JACK'S THE FATHER?!"
7:25 PM
They strolled confidently down the Promenade, Abigail in front, Octavio behind her, arm in arm with Chia and Windbright. Palila was behind, being the youngest, though proudly wearing the yellow gold tiara of Second Wife. Alexandra had remained behind in their quarters, guarded by several leopardess friends of Windbright; Chia was not ready for the world at large to see the Crown Princess signet on another's paw just yet. That Chia did not wear the ring was understandable with her diamond wedding ring taking its place, complementing the bejeweled white gold tiara of First Wife.
Word had traveled fast about Octavio's afternoon activities, with mixed reactions among the mammals they passed. The four brides wore their wedding gowns with the slits of their skirts worn to the front, showing Octavio had taken them irrevocably as his wives. They were no longer under a betrothal contact: They all bore the mark of House Belyiklyk.
The group was chatting and laughing amongst themselves, with ample interruptions in the form of greetings from well-wishers. At this time of the evening, many of the females from the Commons were out with their betrothed, coming over to give hugs to the brides, having spent time with them in the Commons. The brides gave hugs to all who came, a token of forgiveness for past slights. Chia would whisper something to each, always smiling pleasantly. Those who had been friendly in the Commons always gave more hugs and kisses afterwards; those who had not, gave respectful bows and left without turning their backs, grateful they would be let live.
Friendly males would clap in admiration, others, nod politely. None would dare show the least disrespect to the wolf, regardless of how wide Octavio was smiling or fast his tail was wagging. The wolf carried the scent marks from four females of different species, including a polar bear. That made most males uncomfortable, though not for all the same reasons.
They were leaving the Promenade when they passed by a couple of hare bucks dressed in the garb of mid-level embassy functionaries. Abigail gave a sharp, indrawn breath, her ears wilting down behind her head. Octavio stopped at once, almost colliding with Palila, who quickly stepped aside. Before his wives knew what was happening, Octavio had a buck in each of his paws hanging by their ears, his jaws snarling and showing all his teeth.
"I was having the most pleasant day of my life until now," he growled. "Now you will explain to my wives why your blood will be spilled on their wedding day."
"My lord!" one of them cried out, "It was Haredd who spoke!" Octavio shook his head in disappointment.
"I hate cowards more than insolent curs," Octavio growled near the buck's ears. The buck lost control of his bladder. Abigail laughed.
"Do not soil your paws, my lord," she laughed. "I don't know how the words of such worthless garbage could affect me. They are not worthy of cleaning my toilet, yet alone having an opinion that disturbs my thoughts." She came over and nestled against Octavio, staring at the rabbits.
"I am the smallest of my husband's wives," she purred, marking Octavio again. "He has no problem reaching where you may only dream."
The thought of how many years of abuse Abigail had endured, yet could still show mercy, infuriated Octavio even more. The second buck saw his eyes go feral and lost control of his bladder, as well.
"Octavio, my love," Chia called softly. "You will spoil your appetite with both of them." The implications of her words were not lost on the rabbits; their bowels let go. Palila and Windbright laughed.
The way Chia said his name, with pride, love, and joy broke through Octavio's rage. His breathing slowed and his eyes regained their normal hue. The laughter, coming from all his wives now, calmed him down completely. He let go of the bucks' ears with distaste, wrinkling his nose at the stench coming from the two rabbits. He turned away from them, making sure he didn't step in their mess, and gave Abigail a kiss before silently leading her away.
"It would be so much better for you if we never see you again," Chia said cheerfully to the rabbits. "My sisters and I always seem to be hungry lately." Facing three sets of exposed fangs instead of one propelled the rabbits to make a hasty exit.
Windbright shivered sensuously. "Why am I feeling frisky all of a sudden?" she said.
"You are feeling valued," Palila said.
"It is all part of love, sisters," Chia told them sagely. "The ones you love become more valuable to you than yourself."
"Does it make you want to please him?" Windbright asked.
"Disturbingly so," Chia confided.
Palila ducked her head guiltily and knelt before Chia. "I think I am falling in love with Octavio," she apologized. Windbright followed suit. Chia hugged them both, comforting them while they all shed happy tears.
Mammals passing by gave them a wide berth, wondering what tragedy could have befallen three weeping brides on their wedding day.
8:00 PM
"You won't need your gun, Arthur," Kasani said. "I am unarmed."
"There is a K&K32 in your left inside-pocket," Arthur pointed out.
"Chia was right," she said, amazed he had noticed the weapon. "We do need you."
"You work for the Intelligence Ministry now?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm a Ballerina with the Royal Aurora Ballet," she told him.
"With a K&K32?"
"I also have a part-time job," she admitted.
"It must pay well," he said, having taken inventory of her outfit and the remains of her meal.
"It has its perks," she told him. "Would you like a drink?"
"Are you even old enough to drink?"
"I am in Labtierre," she laughed.
"No chaperones?"
"Of course, there are chaperones, Arthur," she said. "They are at my hotel, in Jarie, with me."
"Ah."
"You look handsome," she said. "I like what you did with your fur."
"Obviously not a very good disguise," he said.
"I would know you anywhere, Arthur," she said, warmly. "And being in Labtierre does make it easier to spot a fox."
Arthur chuckled. "Yes. This did seem like a strange location for an extraction. Why here?"
"It is where I am," she told him. "Until tomorrow, as chance would have it. We would have sent you to Briarland, last month."
"And, next month?"
"Would have been inconvenient," she said. "The company returns to Aurora for the winter."
"You really are a dancer, then?" he asked, impressed.
"I told you I would be," Kasani said. "I even showed you I could dance, remember?"
"How could I ever forget?" he said.
"You weren't meant to," she said, sadly, looking him in the eyes. "But you did forget, didn't you, Arthur?"
He looked right back. "I could never forget you, Kasani," he said. "But how could I have thought about you as anything other than a child with a crush on a married mammal old enough to be her father?"
She swallowed. "And now?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he said, still looking her in the eyes. "Why are you here?"
"To make sure it was you," she told him. "I know your scent." She licked her paws and placed them on the table, pads up. Her eyes were hopeful.
"Kasani…"
"Can't you take my paw, now, Arthur?" came her whisper. "I am not a child this time."
"You were there to compromise me," he accused. The vixen shook her head.
"I was there to compensate you," she corrected him.
"Compensate? What does that mean?"
"Chia has a keen sense of fair play," Kasani explained. "She is the one who introduced Candace to her 'friends' in Aurora and she didn't think it fair for you to spend your nights alone because of that. Candace was always the target, Arthur, not you."
Arthur sat back, deflated. His mind turned over, rethinking everything.
"The Wolfram Industries Defense Cooperation agreements," he said, finally. "The company gradually changed its position in Baratea's favor after I was stationed in Aurora."
Kasani nodded. "We didn't know who you really were until after you returned to Zootopia."
Arthur sighed. "How long has Chia been working for the Intelligence Ministry?" he said, admiringly. "ZIA has no clue about it."
Kasani smiled. "Chia does not work for the Intelligence Ministry, Arthur," she said. "I may help them out sometimes, but I mainly 'work' for Chia—when I'm not dancing."
That threw Arthur into confusion. He tried hard to assemble this information into a clear picture.
"Arthur," Kasani said softly, offering her paws again. "Take my paws; just focus on the here and now. The past is gone; the only place for you to go is forward."
"So, what then?" he said. "Just ignore all that has happened and blindly accept you as Chia's payment to me?"
The vixen laughed softly, though not in ridicule. "Oh, Arthur," she said, looking shyly at him. "You are Chia's payment to me." She sighed. "She warned me you might not want this, but don't you think, even a little bit, that you could be happy with me? We know so much more about each other than most who enter a bridal contract. I know I am young and inexperienced, but could you give me the chance? To make you happy? I've waited so long for you, Arthur." Desperate tears fell from her eyes, and her paws were shaking. "Please, take my paws. Please, don't make me beg again."
He frowned. "How many years have you and Chia manipulated my life?" he said. "How can I trust you?"
"You can't," she said, tearfully. "But you can trust a contract." She carefully opened her cloak, where a rolled piece of paper could be seen. She reached with her left paw so there could be no chance of reaching for her weapon and pulled the document out, setting it before Arthur, then offered her paws again. The paper smelled strongly of Kasani. Seeing that he wasn't reaching for the document, the vixen unrolled it, then held it open with both paws it so he could read it.
'I, Lady Kasani, of House Rubahyangkaya, of my own free will, being of sound faculty and health, submit myself to become wife to Arthur'
"I thought Betrothal Contracts were long, complicated things," Arthur commented.
"A standard Contract can have more than ten pages," she said, heavily. "It is necessary when there is no trust, so that both parties may know what is required by the other."
"This is blank," he noted. "And you've already scented the document."
"Yes," she said, almost silently. "I have no demands. I wish only to be your wife."
"This is insane, Kasani," he said.
"Love is not sane, Arthur," she sobbed. "I'm sorry; this was a mistake." She started to roll up the document when Arthur put his paws on hers.
"I'm not a good husband," he said. "You know that."
"What I saw, is that you tried your best," she said. "That is all I hope for."
Arthur pulled out his pen and scribbled 'rest TBD' at the end of the document, brought the paper to his cheek and scented it, rolling it up, then giving it back to Kasani. Several other customers who had been watching the drama play out looked away, sensing the show was over, and the foxes had been speaking low enough not to be heard clearly by anyone else, anyway.
Kasani put the document back inside her cloak, then offered her quivering paws once more. Arthur's paws covered hers as he leaned over and kissed her.
"Now what?" Arthur asked.
"My room," she said. "We need to get your documents ready."
They left the restaurant, taking the elevator to Kasani's floor. She had grown slightly, Arthur noted, reaching almost to his eyes now, and she leaned against him, holding his paw. He breathed in deeply of her scent, picking up her arousal clearly. She saw his body respond and turned her head up for a kiss, running her free paw up his crotch to feel him. The door opened and Arthur picked her up, carrying her to her room at her whispered directions. They made it inside, where Arthur set her down and quickly stripped off his clothes, only to find her standing still, watching him with a smile.
"Wh—" he started, but she hushed him with a finger on his lips, shaking her head. He pushed back the hood of her cloak, staring at the face that had troubled his dreams so long ago, realizing it had always been there: Kasani was a much prettier version of Tonya who might even give Skye a run for the money.
She closed her eyes dreamily, standing absolutely still, shivering at his touch while he undressed her, taking his time with each item, feeling and learning every curve of her firm, dancer's body. His nose roamed all over her skin, reveling in the scent of her beautiful red fur that was creamy-white down the front from the bottom of her throat to the base of her tail. He went back up, letting his mouth sample her bosoms, listening to her soft moans, then worked his way down, down, until he at last reached her most sensitive spot. Kasani caressed his broad shoulders as he lapped away at the soft, downy fur, then her paws went to pick up her right leg, raising it up next to her head so Arthur's tongue could have free rein with all her secrets.
He relished the sweet taste of her, licking with greedy abandon until Kasani began to lose her balance to pleasure. He was at the edge, himself, so he picked her up, setting her on the pristine-white sheet covering the bed, watching her with awe as she spread her legs impossibly apart for him. He scrambled to enter her but couldn't.
"Quickly, my love," she urged him, falling over the edge, her paws reaching over impatiently to guide his malehood. He pushed hard and she yipped briefly as he finally entered her. In two quick thrusts, Arthur's knot swelled, and they clung tightly to each other as he went over the edge, nipping and biting each other, calling out their love over and over, Kasani with triumph, Arthur with something akin to fear: He had had nothing left to lose until that moment.
They lay panting, kissing and caressing in the mandatory afterglow.
"You said, you knew I was a spy," Arthur remarked, curiously.
"A spy, yes," Kasani said. "All the signs were there, but Aurora Station Chief, no. Chia didn't believe me, anyway; she just wanted Candace's influence on the negotiations."
"And you were fifteen?"
"Fourteen, when you left," she confessed, abashedly.
"You told me that was your 'sweet-sixteen' birthday!" he said. He hung his head in shame. "I can't believe I wanted to mate with a thirteen-year-old."
She raised his chin with her paw, kissing him. "But you didn't—no matter how many times I tried. And you know the statistics, my lord, that in much of the world foxes start breeding at ten," she said. "The first offers for me came when I was seven."
He was unconvinced. Kasani smiled. "You thought I was eighteen when we first met, remember?" the vixen said, fondly. "Perhaps I should have kept quiet and let you believe that."
"You were a child," Arthur moaned.
"I had three kills by then, my lord," she told him seriously.
Arthur was stunned. "Three kills?"
"I was Chia's bodyguard until she moved into the Commons, my lord," Kasani informed him. "And she is still my guardian until I officially have a husband."
"That's why you never had chaperones," Arthur concluded. She nodded.
"It is unusual, but not uncommon among the High Families—you're starting to slip, my lord," she said. "Do not pull out, whatever you do."
She reached for a box sitting on the nightstand, bringing it to the bed. She opened it, carefully donning surgical gloves taken from inside, then bringing out several small zip bags and sample vials with cotton swabs attached to the inside of the caps. Two bottles had universal 'female' symbols, two had 'male' symbols.
Arthur watched in fascination as Kasani expertly collected samples from their privates and mouths. She used a permanent marker, also from inside the box, to label the bottles with their names, then rubbed Arthur's bottles against his scent glands and sealed them inside one of the zipper bags, dating and signing the bag. She did the same with her bottles, then placed both bags into another bag that she sealed, dated, and signed.
She held up the bag to a small cube sitting across the bed on the dresser.
"I am Kasani Rubahyangkaya," she said. "Registration number DRA0948716F6, with samples collected for BTC765379076-754, authorization 4684-FGE-43. Contract has been duly consummated, with one markup. At this time, Contracted, Kasani Rubahyangkaya, affirms all designated terms of the contract fulfilled, awaiting final dispensation from Contracted, reference: Arthur, immigrant, Case Number ZA5742-78. This recording becomes part of the Contract Record, for review by the Registrar of Reproductive Affairs. End recording."
"You were recording?" Arthur asked, curious. She kissed him.
"Mandatory for all Betrothal Contracts, my lord," she told him. "I'm also a licensed Sample Collector, so we could do everything in private."
"Maybe we could keep a copy," he suggested.
She smiled. "You have me, my lord," she said, nipping his ear playfully. "Am I not better than a recording?"
"Hotel won't be happy with the sheets," he said, frowning at the blood. "I can't believe you actually waited."
She kissed him. "I promised, my lord, that you would be my first," she told him, wiping them both down with the sheet. She kissed him again. "It was getting very difficult keeping that promise, though." She nipped at his tail until he got off the bed, then folded up the bedsheet, revealing a waterproof cover beneath, protecting the hotel bedcovers.
"You're keeping the sheet?" he asked, skeptically.
"Of course, my lord," she said. "It is my guarantee of motive. You did know that Baratean males cannot own property?"
"Vaguely," Arthur said.
"It means there is normally nothing a female can legally give to a male as assurance she intends to honor a Betrothal Contract except kits," she explained. "But a maiden may also offer her maiden's blood as proof."
"Doesn't that seem a little uneven?" he said. She shook her head.
"Only a maiden can become a First Wife, the Alpha of the House, my lord," she told him. "She controls the wealth, the other wives, the kits. She alone is guaranteed title in case of widowhood. There are other rights and privileges as well, my lord. To give all that up is considered above kits in significance, establishing without a doubt the female's intention to become the suitor's wife."
"Why do keep calling me 'my lord'?" he asked.
"Because you are my betrothed, my love," she told him, finishing packing the bedsheets. "You are the head of my House."
"I don't have a—"
"We need to get going," she said, interrupting him with a kiss. "We must be at the Jarie Aerodrome before midnight. The legal attaché will meet us there with the rest of the documents to issue your visa. We need to wash up; we are not in Baratea: Cows take offense to the smell of blood."
She began packing a travel case with all her things while Arthur headed to the bathroom. "My lord," she called out. "Be careful with..."
"WHAT THE HELL!"
"...the body."
Author's Note:
What did you think?
Players are finally in position.
Until next time,
Thanks for reading!
