Waking up the next morning is surreal. It's the first time in a long while that I feel… safe. Nobody's out to get me here. No ungodly scandals following me everywhere I go, as well as the stares and sneers that accompany it.
I let the morning sun bathe my fur in its warm glow as I lay on top of my covers, completely au naturale, and still covered in last night's mess.
There's a knock at my door.
"Good mornin', Samuel. It's Cynthia," her muffled voice sounds through the wooden door, "are you decent?"
I shuffle myself under the cotton sheets, bringing them up to my chin before responding, "I am now. Come in."
The small Kit fox steps inside, wearing actual clothing now too I might add, carrying a bucket of sloshing water. I can see the steam pouring off the top of the bucket.
"I figured you might like to wash up a bit before the day starts."
"Oh, thank you. That's very kind. This somethin' y'all offer all your customers?" I ask, giving her a shy smile.
"No, only the cute ones," she replies, giving me a sly wink, "but I also wanted to talk."
"I'm all ears."
Her smile is infectious.
"I wanted to apologize for last night. The teasin' and such. It ain't often all the girls get together without any clients like that."
"Oh, it's okay. I can take a bit of teasin'."
"I figured as such, but I also just wanted to say that you have nothing to fear about us knowin' your little secret."
Fear envelopes me again. I've been here less than a full day and now how many people know I'm queer? I am not good at this.
"We're whores, Sam. We deal in secrets for a livin'," she nods.
"You called me Sam?"
"Is that okay? I'm hopin' we can be friends after all. It would be nice to have a man around who ain't tryin' to get into my snatch all the time," she laughs.
I laugh also.
"Havin' a friend would be nice."
"Well get yourself cleaned up, and come on downstairs. I'll get some breakfast made for ya," she says with a wave.
"Madam Dora said meals weren't included?"
"It's on me, Sam. Consider it a beginning to a long debt of friendship. You can get me next time," she winks before closing the door.
A friend. I feel a tear stream down my face fur, and I wipe it away. My heart suddenly feels much lighter than it did when I woke up. I'm going to thrive here. I have to thrive here. Or else.
I give myself a good rub down with the pleasantly warm water and then dress in my usual, army green pants, tan shirt with brown suspenders. I groom myself in the vanity mirror, my white fur looking as lustrous as ever.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Cynthia sitting with the salamander woman from last night, sharing a drink and eating what look like bacon. It smells amazing.
"There he is, come on over, Sam," she calls to me, tapping the barstool beside her.
I slide into the stool and the hare behind the counter is already pouring me a glass of whiskey.
"Whiskey for breakfast?" I ask him.
"It's about's all I got down here. Dora might have a pitcher of sweet tea in the powder room if you wanna go bother her for it, but good luck," he laughs, smacking the glass in front of me.
"I ain't tryin' to be drunk before noon," I laugh back.
"Welcome to the wild west, Mr. Ayers," the hare stalks into the back room, leaving the bar unattended.
"Don't worry about him, he's always grumpy. You don't have to drink it, but here," she slides the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her over to me, "I made sure this fat old whore over here didn't eat it all and saved some for you."
"Excuse me," the salamander spits, "I'll have you know, men lust after my bodacious figure. And I ain't old yet, I'm only fifty-two darling."
I don't argue, and scarf down the meal faster than should be possible and, reluctantly, I throw back the whiskey to wash it down. I feel it in my head immediately.
"Samuel Ayers?"
I don't recognize the voice, calling from the swinging saloon doors, but the fact that somebody here knows my name and is here in the Hip looking for me is worrying. I slowly turn on my stool and see him.
The tall coyote man that was driving Mr. Hendricks around yesterday is looking around the bar.
"Yes, sir?" I call to him, "that's me."
"Your ride is waiting out front," he replies, heading back out the double doors.
"My ride?"
"I wonder what Mr. Hendricks wants with you," Cynthia says, elbowing me in the ribs while waggling her eyebrows.
"Well he did tell me to come speak to him about a job. I didn't know he was gonna send somebody to fetch me though."
"You goin' to work in the mines?" the salamander woman asks.
"No, I don't think so. I'm sorry, I never caught your name, miss."
"Ethel, darling," she says, batting her black eyes at me.
"Good to meet ya. Well I guess I better not keep 'em' waitin'," and I take off out the saloon doors. I see the same black automobile sitting on the dirt road outside the Hip and the coyote standing at the back holding the door open for me to step in.
"Thank you," I say, taking a seat in the back.
He doesn't respond, but takes the front and we begin gliding down the main street. We take a left past the general store and head east for a bit, until we reach the small administrative building near the entrance of the mines. There are workers going to and fro wearing all sorts of mining gear and carrying equipment. Wheelbarrows full of ores, and carts full of shimmering quartz wizz in and out of the shaft.
The car stops in front of the small building. The coyote doesn't move or get out, he just gives me a quick nod and says, "he's waiting for you inside."
The wooden steps leading up to the stucco building creak under my weight, as I stand awkwardly waiting for someone to answer the door. I knocked twice and nobody seems to be hearin' me. I reach out for the handle and it opens, so I step into the small empty room. There's a desk with a typewriter and some stationary supplies on it, and right behind the desk is an oak door with a golden nameplate on it that reads: J. Hendricks III.
I approach the door, ready to knock, but it flies open and raised voices assault my ears.
"I've told you a million times, I know my workers, and I know these mines! We have to do something before there's a full on goddamn riot, James!" a Collie wearing an unbuttoned overcoat with a dress shirt and pants underneath, along with a newsboy cap, screams across the room at James, sitting behind his rather large ornate desk.
"And like I've told you a million times, Gregory, I can't just go around accusing my men of things otherwise we'll start having even more problems. If we just bury this shit it'll disappear. It always does."
"If you're father could see what you're doing with his company he'd be rolling in his fucking grave. Not to mention what you are," Gregory says, turning to exit and finding himself face to face with me.
"Oh, uh sorry. I was called by Mr. Hendricks… about a job," I say, trying not to let the tension hanging in the air between them falter my confidence.
He doesn't say anything in response, but he puts a disgusted look on his face and shoulders past me, and out the front door, slamming it behind him.
"Samuel, I'm so glad you decided to come," James says, standing and moving around his desk to shake my hand.
"Well I didn't right have much choice, now did I. You sent a fancy automobile after me and all."
"Nonetheless, I'm glad you're here. So, about the job. Do you know how to type?" He asks me.
"Uh, no."
"You can learn. It's not hard, as long as you know how to read. Can you read, Samuel?"
"Course I can. I learned from the good book," I beam back at him, pulling out my pocket bible and flapping it at him.
"Very good. Basically all I need from you is to take care of the files, making sure they go into the right location in the filing cabinet over in the corner. Typing up documents on occasion, and on rare occasions going back into town for some things. Does all that sound doable to you, Samuel?"
"I guess so. You might have to show me the typing thingy, but I can do all that."
"Good. You can start today," he claps his hands together and goes back to the other side of his desk, grabbing a piece of paper.
"Now, pay starts at twenty-four cents an hour, and you get an unpaid hour for lunch every day. Be here at seven AM Monday through friday. Lunch is from eleven to twelve, and the day ends at three in the afternoon. The gunshots signal the start, lunch, and end of the day. You can post yourself up here in the lobby, this desk will be yours. Do you have anything nicer to wear?"
"Not really. I only brought a few things with me. But I can buy some once the money starts coming in."
"Very well. This will do for now. So, shall we get to work?"
Over the next three hours he shows me how to operate the typewriter, which is simple enough that by noon I feel confident doing it by myself. When we break for lunch, he pulls out two corned beef sandwiches his wife made for us and gives one to me. When we go back to work the rest of the day practically flies by. When the afternoon gun sounds outside the window, Mr. Hendricks claps his hands and calls me into his office.
"Time to hit the road, Mr. Hendricks?" I ask him, leaning into the office.
"That it is, Samuel. But first I'd like to talk to you about something."
"What would that be, sir?"
"Close the door, please."
His tone is different. Did I do something wrong? Is he gonna tell me that I was a terrible assistant and he's gonna find someone more suited for the job?
Calm down, Sam. You did fine!
I close the door and prop myself against the frame once more. Mr. Hendricks stuffs the papers he was reading into a manilla envelope and slide them into a locking drawer in his desk, before standing and approaching me.
"DId you talk to Madam Dora last night?" he whispers, softly.
My eyes shoot open wide. That's what he wants to talk about right now?
"I did."
"Well, I gotta say I'm curious about what transpired."
He's close to me now. His hand is on my arm, and I can smell the cigar smoke on his breath.
"Why did you tell me to ask her about the smoke room?"
"Was my assumptions incorrect?" he runs his hooved fingertips lightly over my fur, sending goosebumps up my arm. I can smell the arousal in the air between us.
"Um… no?" I breathe, as quietly as I can.
"Good to know. You're very handsome, Samuel."
"Is this appropriate? We're in your office. You're married, what if someone sees you?"
I'm panicking, but I can feel my body betraying me. I see his nostrils flare with the discovery of my scent.
"Of course, Sam. I'll see you tomorrow," he laughs a low laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. There's a new darkness in them.
I start to open the door when his hand flies up and slams it shut again.
"M-Mr. Hendricks?" I say, stunned at this sudden outburst. He just stands there, nostrils still flaring, breathing deep.
"What are you gonna do to me?" I start to cry.
"Oh, Sam. There's no need for that."
"Can I go, please?"
"Go back to the Hip. Tell Dora you're taking the job, you want to start as soon as possible."
"What?"
"Take the job. Then I'll come visit you there when I need me a dose of you."
"But, why?" I stammer, "I don't understand."
"You're going to be a whore, Samuel. You're going to suck and fuck anyone in this town who wants you, and you're going to dig for information for me."
"Information? On who?" I ask.
"Miners. Union men. Anyone who might do my company or my town any harm."
I swallow hard, "and if I don't?"
"Oh, Samuel. Surely you don't want to have the whole town knowing your secret, do you?"
My stomach drops out my ass and onto the floor. What the hell is he talking about? Surely he can't know about that!
"I… what? What do you mean?"
"The town slut, who fucked the preacher, and killed his father. What would poor Clifford say if he saw you here."
"How do you know Clifford?" I feel my soul leaving my body. This can't be happening.
"I have my ways. Just do as I say and nobody will know. If I find out you tell anyone about this conversation, and I'll have your head, Samuel," he says smiling at me with that kind smile again. The darkness in his eyes all but disappeared as he opened the door.
"Goodnight, Mr. Ayers. I'll see you at seven a.m. sharp. Don't be late," he winks at me as I exit the building. My heart is hammering in my chest. How can any of that have just happened?
I'm fucked. I'm utterly fucked.
As soon as I'm out of view of the building I take off at a sprint towards town.
What am I gonna do? I don't want to be a whore. Not anymore.
The town comes into view, and several of the miners appear on the trail, leaving the mines for the day. I pull myself together, wiping the tears from my eyes and trying to look like I didn't just have my entire life fucked, once again. I still speed walk, trying to get back to the safety of my room as quickly as possible.
As I come to the edge of town, I can practically see the Hip on the corner, when I feel my foot catch on something, and I'm plummeting to the ground, face first.
"Oh, fuck!" I shout.
I hit the ground hard, sending a cloud of dust all around me, turning my neat white fur into shades of brown and orange.
"Are you okay?" a deep, foreign voice asks from behind me. A towering figure blocks the sun over me and all I can make out is his silhouette.
"Yeah, I just tripped," I reply, reaching up to take his very large outstretched hand.
"It looks like you have been crying."
"I just, uh- I just had a reaction to somethin' in the air," I say, dusting myself off, and straightening my suspenders.
"I am Nikolai," He says, giving me a warm smile and helping to steady me on my feet.
"Samuel. Nice to meet you."
"I saw you last night."
I remember this stranger as the one who came out of the Madam's office before I went in. A large badger with black and white fur.
"Oh, yeah. I remember you."
"You are new in town, no?"
"Just arrived yesterday," I start walking again, back towards the town. He follows close beside me.
"It is nice to see a new face. What brings you to this place?"
"Echo? I guess I just wanted to get away."
"You did not come for the gold?"
"Hell no. I ain't no miner, that's for sure."
"You are a whore?" he asks, with complete confidence, making me nearly jump out of my skin and look around for stray ears.
"Can you shut the fuck up? I ain't tryin' to get into shit right now," I snap at him.
"I apologize. I saw you at the hip, I just assumed you were either there for a woman, or there to work. So you were there for the love of women, no?"
"Jesus, Nikolai. What I was doin' there is none of your business. I gotta go," I say, picking back up to a run, leaving him behind.
"Goodbye, Samuel. It is nice to be meeting you!" he screams after me.
I keep my head down, hoping nobody else tries to talk to me on my way back to the Hip.
What do I even do? I can't tell nobody or I'll end up at the end of a noose. He'll make sure of that.
I think about the possibility of being a whore. It's not like I don't enjoy sex. I do. But I want to have it with someone I love… not a bunch of strangers who car nothing about my needs or wants.
I stop in my tracks as things start to click in my head. James brought me here. He somehow knew who I was, and he sent me that letter. He knows all about Cliff and he knows about… what I did. How could you be so fuckin' stupid Sam.
I close my eyes and weep again. Nobody is playin' me any mind anymore as I slowly approach the Hip. That's how he knew I liked men. This was some whole ploy to make me his… sex slave or something.
I have to do this to survive. Once again, I'm forced to sell my body to stay alive. At least it'll be me that's bringing home the check this time and not daddy.
I step inside and scan the room for madam Dora, but of course she's not down here. I have Harlan the barkeep pour me a double whiskey and I knock it back before steeling my nerves and heading up to the powder room.
"Can I speak to you, Madam?"
"Samuel, of course. Come in, close the door," she says looking up from the book she was reading.
"I'm takin' the job," I say as soon as the door closes.
"So you turned down James?" She replies, sitting the book aside and pulling the half-moon spectacles off her nose.
"No. I'll be workin' there during the day and here on nights and weekends. If that's alright."
"Of course, Samuel. Would you like to start tonight? I can probably scrounge up a client or two. It's been dry for men like you for ages around here," she says snatching up and fan and waving it lazily in front of her face.
"If it's okay, I'll start tomorrow," I say, trying not to let the hesitancy show on my face.
"That's fine too. I'll get your first client lined up for tomorrow evening. Don't worry, I'll start you off slowly. I'll hand pick for you in the meantime while you settle in," she gives me a wink and returns to her book.
"Thank you, Madam."
"You're a part of the family now, Samual. We take care of each other here."
Sleep was rough last night. Thinking about what the next part of my life is gonna consist of and for possibly how long it'll stay that way makes me feel sick. Eventually, sleep does come however, but it's over as soon as it starts it seems.
James did not send his fancy automobile to pick me up today, so I start walkin' at the ass crack of dawn to make it to the office in time for the seven o'clock gun and just barely make it in time.
Things in the office are definitely more tense than they were yesterday. I do my work the best I can, but I keep finding that old pervert staring at me longingly and it makes my fur stand on end.
When the gun to leave finally sounds, I don't take time for James to stop me this time and I'm out the door before he can even say goodbye.
Back at the Hip, Dora informs me she did book me a client for the evening but not until eight. So I spent the afternoon eating good food and enjoying the company of my new "family". It's a Friday night, so the place fills up pretty soon after I arrive and before I know it it's seven and I gotta get ready for whoever is gonna be expecting me later.
I feel the nerves getting the best of me as I wash myself and groom. Madam Dora took the liberty of buying me one of those fancy pump things to help with cleaning yourself out so you're ready. I do appreciate that. She also bought me some nice cologne, oils, and a brush for my fur to keep it shiny and soft, not to mention a beautiful knife I tucked away in one of my drawers a few hours ago, in case I ever get a client who's a little too rough and I gotta defend myself.
There's a knock at the door.
I sit myself on the bed, wearing nothing but my pants and trying to make a pleasant look on my face.
When the door opens, I'm shocked to see a face I already know.
"Hello, Samuel. It is good to be seeing you again," Nikolai the big fuzzy badger says as he ducks into the room and shuts the door behind him.
"You're my client, tonight?" I ask, gawking at him.
"That is surprising to you?" He grunts.
"No, I just was expecting a total stranger is all."
"But I am stranger. We have only spoken few words to one another," he laughs, holding his big belly with one of his massive paws.
"Well, let's make you less of a stranger then," the words fall out of my mouth like I'm some other person. I fall right back into this with surprising ease, it's actually scary. I just want to get it over with so I can go to sleep.
"What do you want of me?" I ask, giving him an innocent big eye look.
"I want to see you. May I?" He asks with so much kindness and longing in his voice I find myself swooning a little bit.
"That's what you're payin' for ain't it?"
He reaches over with his big manly hands and runs them along my sides. He's gentle for someone as massive and tough as him. His calloused paw pads are rough but they feel nice as they gently drag along the fur on my belly.
"I am paying for your company," he whisperes in my ear.
"Let's get you out of those clothes, mister," I whisper back, sliding my hands over his massive biceps and onto his shoulders.
"You may call me Nik."
He very gently undoes my pants while I slide my hands under the shirt, feeling the hard muscle on his gut, and making me even harder than I already am. His shirt lifts away and I see his chest, soft yet firm, the black fur a harsh contrast to the white on his face and arms.
We continue our undressing, sensually making little huffs of excitement and exasperation until we're both standing stark naked in front of one another.
"Beautiful," he whisperes to me in the darkened room.
"Not too bad on the eyes yourself, Nik."
Who am I kidding. He's gorgeous. His body is huge and encompassing and I want it on top of mine.
"May I hold you?" He asks with such a fervent need in his voice.
"You want to hold me?" I ask, feeling slightly embarrassed. I expected this to be a quick fuck, but it's turning into something entirely different.
"I want your company. I want to hold you. Is okay?"
"Yeah… that's okay," I smile genuinely at him.
He basically picks me up and lays me next to him on the bed. His big arms wrap around me and I can't stop myself from purring.
"Your fur is soft. I like it," he says, stroking my head, eliciting an even stronger purr from my throat.
We lay like this for awhile, him stroking my fur in places, or rubbing my neck, or back in ways that make me feel so… taken care of. Here I am being paid by this man and all he wants to do is hold me and rub my fur? Something about this feels… wrong. Like I'm taking advantage of someone so lonely and in need of affection, that this is the only way he can get it. It makes me feel sad for him.
"How was your day?" He asks me out of the blue.
"My day? It was okay, I guess. What about yours?"
"It was shit. But it is now better."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I whisper, patting his arm reassuringly.
"The mines are not an easy place to be every day. The pay is no good. The hours are no good. The bosses are no good. People die or get hurt and nobody seems to care."
Are we having a conversation about our feelings right now?
"That's awful. Maybe I can talk to Mr. Hendricks about the conditions?"
"Ha! Do not be making me laugh. James Hendricks the third is lazy, frivolous, and neglectful. He does not care about anyone but himself and his pockets. How do you know him?"
"I'm his new assistant," I say, carefully. I remember that James wants me to collect information on his workers. There's no way I'm giving him anything about this guy. He's too sweet, and honestly if he's a regular client, and this is all he wants from me, I'd be okay with that.
"He is why you are here, in this house of whoring?" He says, a slight edge to his voice.
"What… no," I lie.
"You are bad liar, Samuel. Need to be being careful around the ram. He is a dangerous man."
Tell me something I don't already know.
"I do not want to see you get hurt. You are a beautiful flower. Do not be picking the petals. This is no place for you."
I'm not sure if he means in here, working as a whore, or in Echo in general. I don't press the matter.
For the next hour and a half, we just lay here, holding one another, whispering soft words, talking about ourselves. It breaks my heart a little when Nik says he has to go. He's taken up all the time he can afford.
You're a whore, Sam. Did you forget?
I lay on the bed as he dresses, wishing I could ask him to stay, but I know he'd have to pay and that would be in pretty bad form.
He's just a lonely guy, he doesn't want to love you, you're just a dirty whore, and the best he can get. I try to turn off the unkind thoughts, but they keep coming.
As Nik turns to leave, we hear a scream from downstairs. I quickly throw my trousers back on and rocket out to the bottom of the steps, Nik in tow.
There's a gathering of people at the back door and I can tell that it's the girls. They're gathered around something on the ground.
I push through the crowd, and to my horror there's a coyote man, stabbed to death. His face is twisted and broken and the pool of blood around him is still warm and gives a heavy iron tinge to the air.
That's when I notice the knife laying on his chest… it's the one Madam Dora bought me earlier today. Not only that but he's clutching something in his hands.
I reach out and pull the small piece of paper out of his grip and am shocked to find my own face staring back at me.
It's me and Cliff at the county fair. The picture that's suppose to be tucked away in my drawer upstairs… and here it is in the hands of a dead man.
"Why does he got a picture of you?" Ethel bursts out from behind me.
"He must have stolen it from my room," I reply quickly, not liking the implications this could have.
"That's the knife Madam Dora bought for you in case you got a rowdy client," Cynthia spit out.
"I'm goin' to get the Sheriff!" Some weasel onlooker shouts before taking off down the alley.
The last hope that I could find some semblance of peace and quiet in this town, vanishes into thin air. Once again, I feel the numbness take me over, and before I know it, I feel my knees give and I'm falling towards the blood soaked ground.