The lemur hung back by the bar, nursing that drink, the drink which never seemed to get any emptier. He watched all the people dancing, furs of every species, lost to the moment. Always too afraid. Always fearing he'd be found out; that he'd look too obvious. The dress today was positively demure. Better to dress down than dress up; his tranny mentor had drummed that into him enough times. He didn't want to stand out, yet here he was, at the club again. Nursing a drink. Wearing a skirt.
The hell with it. Everyone's got to live a little, right? He set his brow, swung around to set that stupid drink down, and then--
"Eep! Oh God! I'm so sorry! Oh it's all over you. You. You're..."
"Relax, sweetheart." The slim cougar girl gave him an amused smile, patting down the front of her top with a floral handkerchief.
He'd spilled all that wine down her, just one handkerchief wouldn’t cut it. A few more tissues from the bar and things were nearly back to rights, except for one thing: It was her. Little miss prim from the park. In a one-piece leather outfit that ended in a skirt so short it made his eyes water, thigh length boots, soft curls of blond falling down her back. The lemur took a step back and nearly fell over a bar stool, stammering.
She looked him up and down once with eyes like a butcher assessing a prime cut. Her voice was husky, terrifying. "Aww come now, little girl. I'm not gonna take an apology for an answer. You're coming with me."
5 years, 1 month ago
17 Jun 2014 02:28 CEST