Nick made himself at home atop Tiffany’s chest, lighting a smoke as he settled in, enjoying a cigarette. After about fifteen minutes, he exhaled a puff of smoke into her face. Her eyes fluttered open, as he tapped her nose lightly with the barrel of his gun..

  “Hey; wake up.”

  “Ughhh, where am I?” she growled.

  “Why does my chest feel heavier than usual?” She looked up to see the barrel of Nick's gun poking her nose, then to the man holding it, comfortably nestled atop her chest.

  “Well, by all means, make yourself at home,” Tiffany said sarcastically.

  Nick took a final drag from his cigarette, exhaling in her face before flicking the pinched-out butt.

  “Believe me, ma’am, after the crap you’ve put me through this evening, I sure will,” he replied from his comfy nest. Still having the barrel pressed to her nose, he asked, “So, are we going to be civil now?”

  Leaning her head back, she gently put a claw in the barrel and pointed it away.

  “I’ll be civil if you will.”

  “I was civil from the beginning, you two-ton psycho furry!” Nick spat back.

  “I had my reasons…” she said, tilting her head to the side with a pout, her reddish face flashing a whitish pink before going back to red.

  Nick, lost for words with a blank expression, thought, Is she really pouting? What happened to the confident psycho furry?

  He holstered his weapon with a sigh.

  “Look; you have some explaining to do…what’s your deal in all this?”

  Tiffany looked at Nick deadpan. “As much as I love having a man on top, may I please, sit up for this?” she asked him in a mixture of a grumble and growl.

  Nick obliged, turning as she stifled back a moan when he did, then hopped down.

  “Wow, for someone so tough, you really are sensitive,” Nick says nonchalantly.

  She sits up, rubbing her still sore butt cheek.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, you pretty much came like Niagara Falls when I was trying to put you in a sleeper hold, then tried not to moan when I slid off your breast.”

  The fact that someone had pointed out an embarrassingly obvious fact she’d been trying—and failing, miserably—to hide was pretty bad, but the comment coming from a cute guy she was beginning to develop a crush on...made her emotionally want to curl up in a ball and go hide in a hole somewhere.

  Her face became a canvas of conflicting emotions: stunned disbelief, a whitish pink flush of embarrassment, and finally, what Nick could only assume was her attempt at a poker face.

  Her eyes darted away, her ears twitched sporadically, almost like tiny muscle spasms, and her bushy red tail swept slowly back and forth across the bare patch of earth, each motion physically whispering her emotions. Nick hears her start to growl sending him a mixed signal.

  “I wouldn’t say no to you buying me dinner, you jerk,” she said with that pouty face again.

  Nick puts a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. This woman is un-fucking-believable, all this and she wants a dinner date? he thinks to himself.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Fine—now?”

  She looked around, her ears twitched this way and that as if searching for something, then looked back down at him.

  “Yes, now; go gather your things and I’ll meet you by your bike.”

  As Nick went to fetch his discarded shoulder bag, he glanced back and saw Tiffany walk over to the swing set. She picked up one half of the structure, slid two fingers into the top support pipe, and effortlessly expanded the metal with a twist of her hand. Then she grabbed the other half, slid the expanded piece over the end like a sleeve, aligning the two parts perfectly.

  She paused, inspecting her work, then placed one of her massive hands over the joined section. With a firm squeeze, the indentation of her palm and fingers crimped the pipes together, making the connection seamless.

  Nick froze mid-step, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “And she wanted me to beat her in a fight?” It was painfully obvious now that she’d been sandbagging the entire time. This display only confirmed it—she didn’t want him dead. She wanted him around. Though for what reason, he still couldn’t figure it out.

  As he turned to walk toward his bike, he stopped short, his eyes widening. She was already standing there—smaller, compact, and less hairy than her giant red wolf form. Nick blinked rapidly, jabbing his finger toward her, then toward the swing set, back to her, and then once more toward the swing set. “How’d you…?” he stammered, his voice cracking. “How’d you get here so fast? What...*are* you?”

  Tiffany stifled a laugh, pressing a balled fist to her mouth before giving him a smug smile. “You fight an eight-and-a-half-foot-tall, red-haired, big-tittied wolf that can turn into a small girl, and what amazes you is that I beat your slow-moving self back to the bike? My, you really are a special case.”

  Nick shot her a sarcastic smile while flipping her off, which only fueled her amusement. She started snorting as she laughed, clutching her midsection, unable to contain herself.

  “Are you done? Sure your not maybe a hyena instead of, well...whatever you are?” Nick asked, watching as she wiped her nose on the inside of her shirt, still trying to get her laughter under control. She nodded, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “Sorry, I needed a good laugh. Thanks,” she said, her tone softening with sincerity. “So, I know it’s late. How about we swing by Frank’s? You go in, grab a few burgers—medium rare—to go, and we play twenty questions back at your place. Deal?”

  Nick rolled his eyes, thinking, *This is exactly why I don’t date younger girls.*

  He slings her the bag while he gets on the bike.

  “Here, hold onto this till we get back to my place.”

  She catches it in one fluid motion, tosses it over her shoulder, and hops onto the bike with him.

  “Hey, try not to stain the seat, please. It’s still new.”

  She responded with, in her mind, a soft jab to his side, which to him felt like a prized fighter giving him a half hearted kidney punch making him gasp for air.

  “Point taken,” he weezed.