Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Jean LeBrun, Francois LeBrun, Marie LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Theodore Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg the Third, Roxanne Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Lupin, Doctor Fox Jones, William Pongo, Captain Archibald, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Vincent Leon, Abu-Yusuf, Sergeant Otetiani, Lieutenant Black, Julie Black, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Rowena Spyke, Jeremy Mustela, William White, Hannah Vulpes, Professor Nutkin, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Verner Schnauzer, Professor Erica Belge, Charles 'Mouse' Mombay, Ulf Søndergård, Paul Donkey, Harley Davidson (Not the motorcycle manufacturer, obviously) and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005.
Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.
Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.
The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.
In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.
A few quiet moments
Zig Zag put her feet up and smiled lazily. In her left paw she was holding a glass of homemade ice tea. She brushed down her dress with the right, adjusting the hem in an attempt at decency.
It was turning out to be a real 'Indian summer'. Early in September and the heat could still be absolutely invasive. Almost like it crept up on her, from behind, wielding a baseball bat and an evil grin. The mental image of some small, bloated, profusely sweating blob, with 'heat' printed across it's belly, holding a very large wooden bat in both paws brought a giggle from the skunk. Sometimes, her imagination ran off with her.
It was a beautiful day. Even if it was hot. She'd picked a light summer dress for it. Something she would probably never be seen wearing anywhere except at James' place. It was too informal for other occasions. And probably a bit too innocent. It'd grate the eyes of most furs to see her dressing like that, she realized. She had been retired for nearly a decade, but that didn't matter. She would always be Zig Zag.
"That's not a bad thing either, y'know," she told herself with a grin.
"What isn't?" the voice of James Sheppard asked from behind her.
Zig Zag looked over her shoulder and smiled at her boyfriend. The coyote looked as good as the day she'd first met him. She often thought so. At times, she wondered if he still thought the same about her, but it never lasted for more than a few seconds. James had one quality that a great many males could do with learning more about. He knew how to let her know he loved her and appreciated her. Without going overboard, either.
"Being Zig Zag," Zig Zag grinned. "It's not a bad life, y'know."
"It'd better not be. I'm part of it," James grinned and sat down. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a short sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone. He hadn't bothered brushing his hair. It gave him a kind of wild streak he normally didn't have.
The skunk realized she liked it. She narrowed her eyes a bit and sipped her ice tea, leaning back in her seat. "I wish every Sunday could be like this, James. Completely relaxed, no ringing telephones. Just peace and quiet and you."
"Why, thank you," the coyote grinned. "I certainly wouldn't mind either."
"It was sad that you weren't there last night, really. It was a remarkable experience..." Zig Zag said and looked at James again with a warm smile.
James nodded, pouring himself a glass of ice tea from the pitcher on the table, quietly letting Zig Zag know that she should continue.
"It all started well...nice mood, lots of nice furs. Jean and Esteban have a really nice circle of friends, you know. We had fun. Then...the one guest who hadn't arrived yet came by, in a sorry state. She'd been in some kind of traffic accident. Her boyfriend brought her over and...of course it kind of put a damper on the whole affair," the skunk explained and shifted her legs, crossing one over the other.
James blinked. "Well...that's terrible. I hope she wasn't seriously hurt? That can't be why you thought it was such a remarkable experience though. What happened next?" he asked and scratched his neck.
"I think she'll be okay. She was pretty shook up and I think it was good for her to come by the party to get some moral support. Well, anyway...Esteban thought we needed some cheering up."
"Go on?"
Zig Zag grinned and ran a finger around the rim of her glass a few times before canting her head slightly and looking at James again. "He proposed. Right there in the living room, in front of all of us. Went right down on one knee and asked Jean to marry him."
James lit up in a bright smile. "That's good! I'm glad to hear that. You know...I don't see Jean much, I realize that...except when you're the hostess, usually. Gabrielle...sure, I see her once in a while but not the vixen. Shame really, she's a nice femme. I'm very happy for the both of them. I hope you'll let them know from me. My, my...I guess we'll have to think of a good wedding present then, wo...hey...HEY...waitaminute!!"
Zig Zag laughed. She'd expected more or less that reaction. "Easy James...easy, easy...we've got a really great thing going here. Why complicate it? We're good for one another the way things are now. It wasn't some veiled hint, you know. I just thought you should know."
The coyote smiled crookedly and wagged a mock-admonishing finger at Zig Zag. "Shame on you. You nearly made me swallow my tongue there."
"No need, dear. We've talked this over in the past after all," Zig Zag said and leaned over, kissing James' cheek.
James nodded. That was true. It kept surprising him, but he'd come to realize that Zig Zag was not the type of femme anyone ever married. But she was the type of femme who'd devote herself completely to one male in every way, lack of ring notwithstanding. That was fine by him. That way...he didn't feel like he betrayed the memory of his wife. She had passed away years before he met Zig Zag but it had severely complicated matters at first, simply because he hadn't really moved on yet.
He had now. But marrying again was not really necessary. Not with Zig. He was happy with her the way things were.
Sipping his ice tea he grinned again and shook his head. "Back to the matter at paw then. We've got to find a good wedding present for the two of them."
"Weeeeeell...she's my vixen," Zig Zag said, playfully. She was looking straight ahead but seemed to be zoning out, already deep in thought, going down memory lane. "I helped build her up, I helped give her a backbone and enough courage to face the world. So in a way, Esteban is taking her over from me."
James looked sidelong at the skunk and raised an eyebrow. "You know, I seriously doubt that wolf will agree to your perception of the situation," he chuckled.
"I'm not asking Esteban for his opinion," Zig Zag said, matter-of-factly, sipping her drink. "Mine!"
"Yes mommy," James teased.
Zig Zag looked at the coyote again and blinked. Then she smiled, thoughtfully. "Nahh...not her mother, but perhaps an older sister, hmm?"
"Why do I have this feeling you're going to do something wild, next?" James asked and tapped the side of his nose in a know-it-all way. "You've got an idea for a present already, don't you?"
"James...really..." Zig Zag said, reproachfully. "She's my friend. Do you really think I'd stick to one present?"
"Of course not. You're probably going to spoil her completely rotten. And I'm going to have to moderate your excesses, won't I? So you don't go totally overboard? Don't look at me like that, you've been enormously protective of Jean ever since you got to know her," James chuckled and emptied his glass. He poured himself a refill and raised a questioning eyebrow at the skunk as if to ask if she wanted more ice tea as well.
"Yes please," she said and held out her glass. "You're right though. She brings it out in me. It's funny really...furs do that to me. Bring out some aspect of me, that is. Sabrina, for instance...now there is a fur I can't help teasing. She invites it. I don't mean any harm by it, though. I like her a lot. Gabrielle was intriguing. And after that passed, she just demanded my respect as a fur. She's stronger than most furs I've come across, and she doesn't even really realize it herself. You...well, I just wanted a date with you at all costs and now look where we are," she grinned.
James nodded. He couldn't very well argue with any of that. He leaned back in his seat and put up his feet as well, taking a deep breath and enjoying life in general while listening to Zig Zag's continued explanation.
"Jean was different though. Most furs reacted either by wanting to protect her or hit her when I met her. Well, I wanted to protect her. Help her grow strong enough to take on the world. I think I did a damned good job at it too. I'm proud of her, James. Really."
"You have every reason to be," James said, matter-of-factly. "So...what do you have in mind?"
"I'm going to arrange the wedding," Zig Zag said and smiled widely. "I know Esteban...he's an absolute darling but he's not a practical fur. And no matter how strong Jean has grown, I think she's going to be quite happy that someone else will take care of this."
"You know what, Zig?" James asked and looked directly at his girlfriend.
"No, what?"
"You...are an absolutely incurable romantic."
"Shh...don't tell anyone. It's my little secret," Zig Zag winked and got comfortable in her seat. She let out a little purring sound and closed her eyes. There was a wholly content smile playing on her lips.
###
Jean woke up. She'd slept a very long time. That was all right though. It was Sunday, after all. No pressing appointments. No important meetings. Nothing at all. Last night had been...
No.
She didn't know a single word or phrase to describe how she felt. She could fly. Walk on the clouds. Reach up and grab the stars. And even that seemed small in comparison. The last thing that she remembered clearly was Gabrielle calling briefly from Copenhagen. Just to say that she and Yohni had arrived safely. She said she'd find a computer and send an E-mail with more information when she got a chance.
Jean hadn't gotten a chance to tell the equine what had happened.
She smiled. She had an arm draped over Esteban's chest. The wolf was still sleeping. He looked peaceful and happy in his sleep, Jean thought. His head turned slightly to the side. His chest rising and falling, rhythmically, with every breath. She didn't want to move. Not under any circumstances. The longer that moment lasted, the better.
Esteban smiled. Without waking. Probably dreaming something nice. It made Jean smile too, just looking at him. She lifted her paw a bit and looked at it...at her ring. Then she snuggled up a bit closer, resting her head on Esteban's shoulder.
That got a murmur from the wolf. It wouldn't be long before he woke up, but Jean savored those few moments, quietly.
Finally, Esteban opened his eyes. He made a sound, deep in his chest, as he realized he was now awake. It always took him a couple of moments to blink the last sleep from his eyes.
"Hey chica...sleep well?" he asked and kissed Jean's hair, sleepily.
"Very. How about you?" she replied.
"Mmhmm...fantastico," Esteban mumbled and slipped his arms around the vixen.
"No headache? I think your fishing buddies must've toasted with you two dozen times yesterday evening," Jean giggled.
"At least. No headache though. I'm feeleeng just fine. How about you? Not goeeng to ask me eef I was sereeous or aneetheeng?"
"Don't be silly. I know you, Esteban...you'd never ask me something like that if you weren't deadly serious," the vixen said and looked up at Esteban's face.
"I was. I am," he said and turned his head to get a better look at Jean. She had a slightly sleepy expression on her face, but she looked incredibly content.
Jean brushed her fingers through the fur on Esteban's chest. Soft. Very soft. He'd always known how to take good care of himself. In his former job, it had been absolutely necessary. After he changed to a job behind the cameras, he hadn't forgotten how.
"How long did you plan this for?" she asked.
"You want the truth, Chica?" the wolf asked.
"Yes please," Jean answered and looked back up at Esteban's face.
"I asked you the first time once...een the hospeetal. You'd just fallen asleep. I meant eet then, just as seereeiouslee as I deed yesterday. But everee time I tried een the meantime, someone would come by, or the phone would reeng or...sometheeng. I wanted the moment to be just right."
"Well...I don't mind waiting two years for a moment like that one."
Esteban nodded and brushed his fingers through the fur on Jean's shoulder, smiling that lazy, half-awake smile of someone serenely happy but not quite out of Never-neverland yet. He'd been so nervous before asking, the night before. Now he couldn't really see what he'd been nervous about. He'd known Jean for two and a half years and they both knew this was for life. There had been no need to be nervous. It was the next, natural step to take.
So what if the laws of the United States wouldn't recognize the marriage as legally binding? They'd be married by conscience and love...and that was a lot more important. There were ways of taking care of the more technical sides of it. Making wills and suchlike. It was nothing he wanted to dwell on at that moment.
"Life's changeeng for you, eh chica? New job...new responseebeeleeties...and now you're getteeng married," he grinned, blinking a bit more sleep out of his eyes.
"I'm wondering when I won in the lottery of life, y'know," Jean giggled and snuggled up again.
"Maybe when you met me?" Esteban asked and kissed her hair again.
"That's so terribly self-centered I'm inclined to agree," the vixen said and pushed herself up on one elbow. She still had that happy smile on her face.
"So...what plans do you have for today, chica?"
"None whatsoever. How about just staying here in bed...?"
Esteban smiled widely. "I might be tempted to do that...I could theenk of a few theengs I could do een bed weeth you," he grinned.
Jean had seen wolfish grins before. Even on Esteban, but she couldn't remember having seen one so heavily loaded with hidden meaning and innuendo as that one and she found it impossible not to laugh. All the wolf had forgotten was wagging his eyebrows, or the cheese-value would've outdone the entire south of France.
"You're hopeless," she giggled and kissed the wolf's nose. "Okay, I think that does it. We'd better get up."
Nodding, Esteban stretched out and yawned. A real tongue-curler. Then he smiled lazily and sat up. He knew Jean was right. Besides, he had a few things he wanted to do that day. He scratched his mane and pondered a bath.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one. Jean had gotten out of bed. The next thing Esteban knew, lights went out as the towel the vixen threw at him landed across his eyes.
"AY...ees that a heent?" he grinned and pulled it off.
"Yep...a hint that I want a bath and I'm not in the mood to be alone," Jean answered and winked. "Are you coming?"
"Bad questeeon to ask a former porn-actor, chica," Esteban laughed and crawled out of bed.
Jean half lidded her eyes and smiled, heading into the bathroom.
"Is it? I wouldn't know," she said.
Esteban shook his head and chuckled to himself. A bath might be a good idea, although at that moment, he'd probably need a cold one. Somehow, he didn't think Jean was in the mood for that.
He certainly wasn't complaining. Flinging the towel over his shoulder he shuffled into the bathroom.
###
It was a remarkable day. The skies were devoid of clouds. It was warm, without being so hot it was unbearable. The sun shone pleasantly...almost like it was kissing every fur beneath it. Gabrielle was thoroughly enjoying herself. She was sitting at a cafe, legs crossed, with a tall glass of ice tea in front of her. Lemon-flavored, no less.
She rather liked it.
It was home-made, apparently. Or at least made at that specific cafe. She somehow doubted the owner brought ice tea with him in buckets every morning. She sipped it again and leaned back a little.
She was dressed lightly that day. A small halter top, a short skirt and some rather neat sunglasses she'd found at a street-vendor's stall. They looked like Ray-Ban's but considering the price, they were clearly copies. It didn't matter. They looked good on her. Her hair was down and she was thoroughly enjoying the time-honored discipline of 'fur-watching'.
The interesting part, of course, was that she was watching foreign furs.
At least, she had to tell herself, they were foreign to her. Strictly speaking, she was the foreigner. It was a little weird to think about. So far though, her limited experience with Danes had been singularly good. She and Yohni had agreed that morning, after waking up rather early, to call Ulf at the number he'd given them. They'd agreed that the canid would pick them up at their hotel and they'd visit a few sights in Copenhagen. Places that were open to the public even on Sundays.
They'd ended up at the Tivoli. The amusement park that Yohni had been so eager to see. Gabrielle had to admit it was a remarkable place. Totally different from any amusement parks she was used to from the United States. It was a combination of a beautiful old park and amusement park, with all the classic sort of rides. There were a lot of restaurants there...apparently very good ones, if Ulf's recommendations were anything to go by. Somehow, the equine thought they would be.
Right now, Yohni was off exploring a specific group of very old stalls. Ulf had gone along to make sure the mongoose could find her way back. Gabrielle had needed a drink and to rest her hooves, and so they had decided to make a place called 'Grøften' their home base, so to speak. It'd be the place where they'd meet up in case they got separated. Ulf had translated the name of the place by 'the ditch'. Gabrielle found that rather amusing, considering the prices, but she had decided to spoil herself a little.
A waiter came over. A nicely dressed young female badger in a black skirt and vest, and white shirt.
"Er der andet de har lyst til, frøken?" she asked.
Gabrielle blinked. Then grinned and tipped her sunglasses down over her nose a bit. "Eh...sorry, miss. American. I don't speak the language, I'm afraid."
"No problem at all," the badger said with a smile in perfect English. "I merely asked if you required anything else, Miss?"
"Hmmm...not at the moment. I'm waiting for my two companions to come back for now," Gabrielle explained.
"Very well," the badger said and bowed slightly, smiling politely and heading to the next table.
A few more minutes passed. Families passed by Gabrielle's table. Single furs of both genders and a good few different species. Everybody looked happy. She got many polite nods and tips of hats. It was very nice. She wasn't exactly used to that level of friendliness. Ulf had said that Copenhagen was considered an unfriendly city by most Danes. If that was the case, Gabrielle told herself, she'd expect to be invited in by more or less anyone she met anywhere else in the country. It was certainly different than Columbus, Ohio.
A very old, even ancient canid sat down at the table next to her. A Great Dane, no less. Somehow, the filly mused to herself, that was appropriate. He took out a pipe and lit it up, straightening down his jacket. He was immaculately dressed, Gabrielle noted, in a nice, probably tailored suit. He was walking by the aid of a cane, but his eyes were sharp.
The canid noted the equine looking his way and smiled, warmly, lifting his pipe in a sort of salute. "God eftermiddag, frøken," he said. "Sikke dog en herlig dag."
Gabrielle couldn't help giggling. "Sorry, Sir...I'm American. I don't speak Danish," she said and shrugged, hoping the old-timer understood her.
"Ahhh, how fascinating. Just commenting on what a beautiful day it is today," the old canid said and puffed on his pipe.
"It is...very much so. My first whole day in Denmark and I must say I like it so far," Gabrielle chuckled. "Does everyone here speak English?"
"Most of us, yes. We're a very small fish in a very large pond, Miss. We realize we have to learn how to speak like the majority of furs out there...since we can't seriously expect everyone else to speak Danish," the canid said with a crooked smile. "Many old furs like me don't speak English though. At least not terribly well."
Gabrielle smiled and nodded. She would've liked to continue but before she could say more, she saw Ulf and Yohni returning. The mongoose equipped with a large balloon and a lollipop as big as her face. She looked incredibly happy with herself. Ulf was laughing at something.
Finishing her ice tea, Gabrielle got to her hooves and headed towards the pair.
"What's the big joke?" she asked and grinned.
"I didn't know what you two did for a living, is all," Ulf said and wiped his eyes dry. He had tears of laughter streaking his face. "I had no idea the things you can do with a candy-cane, according to Yohni. Somehow, I'm grateful that she went for the lollipop instead."
Gabrielle tried to keep a straight, even stern face as she looked at Yohni. "You didn't get the candy-cane?"
"Nope...this one was bigger. You know, size does matter," Yohni said, immensely pleased with her choice, licking the rim of the lollipop.
The bronco sighed, theatrically, looking at Ulf again. "I'm terribly sorry. No live demonstration for you then," she said, deadpan.
Ulf just blinked...then hid his face in his paws and began to laugh. His shoulders were shaking so hard that to a casual observer, it almost looked as if he was crying. The sound was certainly not that of a weeping fur though.
He finally recovered his senses and looked up, wiping his eyes again. "No chance of that anyway, my friends. My girlfriend would probably disapprove wholeheartedly."
"Aww...we could include her too if that'd help?" Yohni said and licked her lollipop again.
Ulf gave up trying to answer. He just laughed.
Gabrielle smiled. "Let's try to be nice to poor Ulf, before he suffocates," she admonished and wagged a finger at Yohni.
The mongoose batted her lashes and pouted, looking terribly sorry. For about ten seconds, before shrugging and going back to licking her lollipop.
"Let's go find you two a pancake," Ulf said after regaining his senses.
"A pancake?" Gabrielle asked, looking slightly confused. "Why a pancake in particular?"
"It's traditional. You can't visit Tivoli without eating pancakes," the canid explained and began leading the two femmes along. "Now I'm going to have to explain to my girlfriend why I've been hanging out all day with two porn-actresses," he chuckled.
"I hope it won't land you in any trouble?" Yohni asked, quite serious by now. "I mean, it's very nice of you to show us around but if it's giving you problems...?"
Ulf shrugged and smiled crookedly. "She'll flip out six ways from Sunday, throw plates around in the kitchen and call me every rotten name in the Danish language...and that's a lot. It's a terribly good language to insult someone in," he said.
"If you'd rather go home...now that you know...I mean...I think we'd both understand totally," Gabrielle said, looking at the male.
"Have we done anything improper?" Ulf asked, shrugging.
Both femmes shook their heads. Gabrielle looked at the candy in Yohni's paw for a moment, grinning. That was merely innuendo, after all.
"Then there is no problem. My conscience is absolutely clean. All I've done is show a couple of American tourists around Tivoli, and a few other sites of the city. If she has a problem with that...I really can't take it seriously. Why would I treat you two any different than other furs?" Ulf asked and chuckled, putting his paws in his pockets.
"That's a pretty laid back attitude. I mean, what if she really does get so upset she leaves?" Yohni asked. She looked a bit concerned, still.
The canid pondered how to answer that for a moment. A stall was coming up ahead. The scent of freshly baked pancakes was wafting through the air and several groups, mostly families, were already benched, eating. The mood was light and happy. Somehow, though, he felt he had to give a decent answer to Yohni's question.
"Denmark was the first country in the world to legalize porn...way back in the start of the seventies," he said and shrugged. "It's more or less common knowledge here. There's a constant debate about it, even now. About whether or not it's demeaning to femmes or whether or not it's giving young furs a twisted idea of what sex and love is all about."
Yohni nodded and listened. She'd heard more or less the same in the United States.
Gabrielle found a secluded seat at the stall and sat down, motioning for the others to join. None of the tables immediately surrounding the one she had picked were occupied. She didn't think that families on a nice Sunday excursion would particularly appreciate the topic, all things considered. There were a couple of used paper plates on the table and she folded them up and threw them in a trashcan next to the table. She didn't speak up either, though, keeping her attention on Ulf.
"I think it goes without saying that porn magazines and movies should not be placed at eye-level for adolescents. Those under the age of consent should not have pornography slapped in their faces at every turn. But at the same time, bear in mind that the age of consent here is 15 years of age, and we take a fairly relaxed view on sex compared to the United States, in general. I've visited New York many times as a result of my work and it's one thing I've come to realize. That sexual attitudes in the States and in Northern Europe in general are very, very different. We're a lot less prudish, if you'll pardon me for saying so..." the canid continued and sat down. He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to both the femmes.
Neither of them accepted but motioned that it was okay for Ulf to smoke. Gabrielle pondered his words quietly. It wasn't a surprise to her that Europe was a lot more open-minded about such things.
"I think it is up to each individual if they want to buy such products. I completely fail to see the reason behind why this should be demeaning to femmes...and I admit that may be because I'm male, myself. And mind you...I don't ask anyone to agree with my views either," Ulf went on, scratching his neck. "But neither of you were forced into this job, I take it? You're both doing this voluntarily, yes?"
"Absolutely," Yohni giggled. "Completely so. No one forced me, but I can't say I'm sorry about my choice of career."
"I think that goes for both of us. Every femme I've met in this line of work has a different reason to do it," Gabrielle said and shrugged. "Some do it for the money, simply considering it a job. Others get a kick out of it but that generally doesn't last very long. It's rather clinical most of the time. Some like myself do it for reasons such as wanting to rebel against the accepted norms of society. I don't discount the possibility that there are femmes in mainstream porn working there because someone's forcing them, but they'd be a rather small minority then. The problem isn't mainstream products...it's the really sleezy underground companies catering to...'special wishes'. You'll find a lot of rot there."
Ulf nodded and exhaled smoke through his nostrils. "So long as the furs involved in it have chosen their job themselves, I really don't see a problem. I think furs in general have to stop being afraid of sex and realize it's a pretty damned important part of life. I also think they should realize that pornography has existed since the stone age. Stone figurines, etchings in rocks, cave paintings of intercourse. Hell, I visited Italy several times, and once I had the chance to see Pompeii. The red light district there was really large and suffice to say that a customer could pick and choose the between various services painted on the walls. I mean...this is the 21st century. I wish more furs would just accept we moved out of the dark middle ages a long time ago."
Yohni nodded. "I can't say I disagree with you. But that still leaves the question of your girlfriend, Ulf? What if she gets so angry that she leaves because you've showed the two of us around today?"
"Then it's her choice. I can't stop her. But if I have to stop and ask every single new fur I meet 'What do you do for a living, because if I talk to you and it's something my significant other doesn't approve of, I'll be in trouble', I'm going to go crazy. All we've done is talk, hang out and have a fun day. Hell, I'd have brought her if she had time but she had another appointment planned. I've just been away from her for three weeks after all. I'd have loved to bring her," the canid said and smiled. "Anyway, let me get us those pancakes."
"Sounds good," Gabrielle grinned. "I've had enough serious topics for one day."
Yohni nodded, obviously agreeing.
Ulf winked and got to his feet, heading to the stall to get three pancakes.
Gabrielle looked back at Yohni and smiled. The mongoose grinned and licked her lollipop again in a very telling way.
All the equine could do was laugh.
###
Timothy picked up his mug and the toast-rack, and headed into the living room. It was Sunday. That meant complete relaxation. New York was constantly pulsating, and the stallion had learned early on that there would be no breaks for him to enjoy. He had to take his breaks. He'd decided that his home would be his sanctuary against the stress of life outside, but it didn't always work that way. It depended on how hectic things were in general. His studies, traffic jams outside, Malcolm's job and so on. In fact, he had to admit Malcolm's job had been a real stress-factor at times. At least it was infinitely better nowadays, since his boyfriend had changed dance-companies.
Since he couldn't count on having much relaxation-time during a normal day, he'd put his hoof down and decided that weekends were 'time off'. Where only the most desperately important things would be dealt with. Otherwise, it'd be put off until Monday.
Yesterday hadn't been particularly relaxing. Suddenly, two friends had decided to split up after four years of living together and Timothy had found himself with a livingroom full of sobs and gnashing of teeth. And both he and Malcolm had dealt with it. The only way they could. By listening and nodding at the right moments. When two furs fell out...it usually ended in tears and reproach. Accusations and anger. Malcolm was a pillar of strength in situations like that, and Timothy was grateful for it. He, himself, always wanted to try to fix things somehow. It never quite worked out that way.
If two furs had come so far that they were ready to go each their separate ways...then things were so bad off that nothing he said would change it. He probably shouldn't even try. It just hurt him to see friends part on bad terms. Malcolm had put it very succinctly after their guests had left.
He'd said that the problem when furs split up like that was, that no matter if one wanted to take a side for one of them or not, it always ended up like that. It was an annoying fact that in nine cases out of ten like that, he felt he ended up only seeing one of the two afterwards, anyway. Even though he really would like to stay in touch with both.
Timothy had to agree. That was, indeed, the main problem of such situations. There would always be one of the two he ended up seeing more. The other would, consciously or unconsciously, feel sidelined...and finally he would simply stop seeing that fur. And then he would end up feeling guilty.
He sat down on the couch, heavily, and sighed. Malcolm was already there, wrapped up in his quilt. There was a tray on the table with jam, cheese and butter. Hot coffee in the pot and there was some nonsensical quiz-show on TV. The volume was turned down. What the fur in the glittery suit was saying wasn't relevant. Nor his entirely too-bright smile.
Timothy leaned his head against Malcolm's shoulder and groaned. "Why is it that furs grow apart like that?" he muttered.
Malcolm slipped his arm around the bronco and sighed. "I don't know. But I was thinking about the same thing, myself. I think...many times it stems from furs getting involved with each other...without agreeing on what they want out of that relationship."
Timothy nodded and thought about that for a moment. "That's one option, at least. I can think of another."
"What's that then?" Malcolm asked and poured himself a cup of coffee before holding the pot up to offer Timothy one as well.
"Yes please," the bronco said and held out his mug. "I think the other possibility is that some furs overdo the planning. They are so afraid of what you just said...so worried that they don't know each other well enough...that they just go overboard. Everything has to be put into a system. They've got to know absolutely everything about one another from the day they move in together..."
Malcolm nodded and sipped his coffee. "And then one day they realize they don't actually know everything about each other anyway, and the shock is more than they can handle. Or even worse...they figure out there's nothing new and refreshing to be had in their relationship and they grow to resent one another for their own stale lives...without wanting to accept even part of the blame for it," he mumbled.
"Spot on," Timothy said and looked at the black, aromatic liquid in his mug. "What is this anyway?"
"Vanilla flavored..."
"Ah...to disguise the taste of coffee. I see. You are so unbelievably gay sometimes, Malcolm."
"Look who's talkin'," the Arabian stallion said with a soft chuckle. "Coffee tastes like someone decided to take beans and burn them to a cinder, then pour boiling water all over them to make some kind of black, bitter soup."
Timothy blinked and looked up at his boyfriend while a smile tried to force it's way onto his face. "I hate to tell you this...but that's what coffee is when you get down to it."
Malcolm sighed theatrically and shook his head. "Some furs must have had too much time on their paws to think up something like that," he said.
Timothy grinned. One of the best things of his relationship with Malcolm was the fact that they made each other laugh so easily. They could argue...even have blazing rows...but what couple couldn't, he asked himself? He was happy with his life. He had a life, as opposed to when he lived in Denver, and Malcolm was the most important single part of that life.
"I should've bought more apples," Malcolm said, suddenly, snapping his fingers.
"Why's that? Your Arab fruit-vendor friend had some particularly good ones or what?" Timothy asked.
"He's Iranian, but no...no better than usual, really, but I'm in the mood for making baked apples for tonight. You know, with nuts and marzipan and berries...the whole works. In fact, I'm in a general mood to treat you to something nice. I think we can both use that after yesterday."
"Weeeell...you could always take me to the ballet?" the bronco teased.
"Watch it or I'll spank you," Malcolm grinned. "I'm serious though. Well, we can probably get apples somewhere else. And we'll rent a couple of movies and just generally play couch-potatoes all day...how does that sound to you?"
"Where's your wings and your halo?" Timothy asked and snuggled up closer. "But not just yet, okay?"
"Spoken like a true couch-potato."
Timothy shrugged and yawned, still trying to wake up fully.
"Sue me."
Malcolm smiled and nodded, brushing his fingers through Timothy's mane. "Nahh...we'll get the apples and movies later. You know what, though?" Malcolm said, looking down at the top of Timothy's head.
"I know a lot of things but I'm not quite sure what you have in mind," the shorter stallion answered.
"I'm glad we can laugh at each other's antics...instead of getting angry. I think if furs get so serious about something that they forget to laugh...well...it's not healthy," Malcolm said, quietly.
"I just thought more or less the same thing," Timothy said, quietly.
Malcolm nodded. He sipped his coffee again, such as it was and leaned back. He could easily spend the whole day like that. Sitting on the couch, letting the TV drone on in the background. As long as Timothy was there, it would be a good day. He turned his head and looked out the window. It was slightly overcast outside. It'd probably rain, later on. Not that it bothered him. He reached for the remote control and flicked channels. Enough with the glittery suits and toothpaste smiles.
He came across MTV. The video starting up was Sting's 'Englishfur in New York'.
Somehow, that seemed appropriate. Malcolm smiled and buried his muzzle in Timothy's hair again.
A rainy day in New York City.
Could life really get any better?