FIVE

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A hooded cloak, long and plain brown, did much to render Rebecca more anonymous. With a gentle rain starting to fall as we left Weston House, nobody would have thought the cloak at all conspicuous – if anything, my own lack of one was more so – and even should one get close enough to peer under the hood, her masque was, she told me, much like anyone else’s who’d attended the ball.

I hadn’t thought to conceal her identity, but on reflection it seemed a suitable thing to do. If this entire mess wasn’t just a phantasm conjured by my own smitten mind…

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FOUR

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Keeping the ring safe was all very easy to promise, but how was I to go about it?

I wasn’t the sort of person whom anyone would expect to be wearing a signet ring. If she’d given me another ear stud, marked me as mostly hers, then it would have been easy; I could have plainly worn it as a thing she’d given me. Nobody would have thought twice over such a man bearing some additional decorations from his main client.

As it stood, though, I was expected not to show any such favours, at least not while I was waiting for or with other women. For the time any one of my clients was with me, I was to be hers and only hers. It simply would not do to be wearing jewellery that someone else had given me – not if it were my own grandmother, and certainly not another client.

Even taking it off when I was shedding my clothes would draw too much of a point to it. But I couldn’t simply leave such a thing lying in my quarters, where anyone who entered the building might be able to find it. I needed to keep it on my person, or within reach. Yet I needed it to be inconspicuous, also.

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THREE

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The thing I’ve most come to regret about the work I do is how it reduced sex to just another task, something routine. The women I serviced came from many walks of life, from tradeswomen through artisans and even a few examples of minor nobility. They had many body types, some almost masculine, some so lushly female that it was almost daunting. But to some extent, all the faces and bodies blended together.

Angelique was somewhat more distinct in that regard, if only because I saw some snippets of her life, and to some extent, she was working to keep me happy, not only the other way around. It was almost relaxing – exhausting, but in such a satisfying manner that it felt good.

The days rolled by into weeks. My eighteenth birthday passed by, and a few weeks later came the first snows of November. Then someone came in who truly caught my eye.

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TWO

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Thomas and I were brought to the physician’s offices together, in spite of his one-week lead on being cut. The same physician who’d tended to me in the first place was about to usher us into separate rooms, but apparently changed her mind; she sent us into a small room with a pair of glass vials, and instructed us to have fun, so long as we each provided a sample. The room wasn’t particularly comfortable, though, and the awareness of where we were and why kept our enjoyment in check. Still, it was more pleasant than simply sitting in a room and taking it in my own hand.

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ONE

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Sometimes, people ask how I started doing this.

It’s simple, really. There I was, not a week past my sixteenth birthday, meandering through the market and looking at all sorts of goods that I had no hope of buying for myself. I was dreaming of the time I might have enough money for it – me, a youth of no trade, no prospects; me, a street urchin, my father dead before I was born, my mother jailed for smuggling dream-spice. But I dreamed anyway, dreamed of the time when I would be a man of substance, when the name of Edmond Larson would command respect. What I would be, how I would get that wealth, I had no idea; but I dreamed of having it.

And in the short term, I would take the pennies I’d begged for, and buy one of the spiced buns that had been tantalizing my nose for the last quarter-hour.

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<< Back to Chapter 12: New Equilibrium

Spring had taken its sweet time, but it was finally here to stay. The last of the snow was gone, the air was starting to feel mild, and days were longer than nights again. It was a sunny afternoon without much wind and with only the lightest, fluffiest of clouds to be seen.

In short, it was about as good a day as you could ask for to move house. And with my newly exalted rank and pay scale(the latter of which still didn’t hold a candle to some people I know, but anyway), it was about time to do so.

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<< Back to Chapter 11: Bouncing Back | Epilogue >>

Dinner was good. Hanging out afterward was better. Getting sandwiched between the two skunks for one last romp was a new brand of intense, even if Sam didn’t push more than halfway in or so, and drifting off with them to either side was an experience I’ll not soon forget.

But when I woke up between them, I felt… awkward. Not the waiting-for-the-shoe-to-drop feeling of doing something I shouldn’t, nor even expecting the whole business to fall apart suddenly. I just felt like I didn’t quite belong; like, no matter how much they tried to make me feel welcome, I’d always be an outsider, in their house and in their bed.

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Blake had been right about one thing. It was bloody hot.

The evening should have brought with it a bit of relief from that heat. But even after he’d returned the rental truck and caught a bus back to the dorm, he’d still needed to actually unpack the things Blake had helped him move in. And unfortunately, the dorm room only had a single window.

Goddamn dorms. Blake had no idea how good he had it, moving in off campus. A proper house. No massive horde of students around. A proper room, with a chance for some actual air movement. Space that wasn’t shared by dozens of people.

As Charlie pushed back into the room, shirtless and still damp after a badly-needed shower, his gaze settled on the unoccupied bed, and he glared at it.

No roommates. Housemates, sure, but no roommates. Damn it. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his yet, but he could hardly expect that luck to hold all year.

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Luke crawled into bed alone, around two in the afternoon; Cal had gone home, looking much braver than the night before, and Luke himself had opted to stay another day yet, to try to make a few arrangements with Jessica. She, however, had gone off to her summer job; so, still feeling a bit drained from the busy night before, Luke had gone back into the guest room for a bit of a rest. He hadn’t intended to actually fall asleep, but as he lay there, relaxing turned into dozing, and dozing into napping.

He woke up to the feel of warm bodies sliding up against him from either side. And while one such he might have taken, so to speak, in stride, with a sleepy nuzzle or a curl of his tail, there being one in front and one behind brought him rather suddenly to full consciousness.

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The night was wearing on. How far, Luke wasn’t sure. It was definitely night-time, though, the full moon hanging in the starry sky. Over a natural waterway, it would have cast a dazzling array of silvery ripples.

Here, the lights in the pool largely obscured that. The pool was mostly empty, now, most of those who had occupied it grabbing their things and going on to get dry. A number of other otters were still chasing each other around in it, though their hosts were elsewhere. A pair who’d cozied up to him earlier, right after his romp with Jess, were now keeping each other busy, not exactly discreetly, on the pool deck some twenty feet away; the boy on his back, the girl straddling him, pushing against him in a way that even with the beach towel draped over her, there was no mistaking the rhythms of sex.

It was a boy off by himself, though, that caught Luke’s attention – one he recognized, though didn’t know very well. Recognizing was easy; Calvin was slim and sleek and limber, sturdy-tailed and bright-eyed, the quintessential otter boy, but his fur was unusually pale, the golden colour of pine wood. Here, he was sitting on the pool’s edge, looking for the most part at nothing in particular, occasionally down at his empty beer bottle. As far as Luke could recall, it had been empty for the past half hour or so.

Well, there was a way to remedy that. The cooler was mostly empty, but there were still a few bottles left; he grabbed two by the necks and made his way over there.

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The bustle that had come before was just a prelude; now, the party was in full swing. Oh, one or another of the hosts sometimes gave people a message to quiet down, to avoid becoming a public nuisance that’d draw attention even out in the countryside – but so long as the volume stayed manageable, the booze was contained, no fires broke out, and the trash didn’t get scattered all over, people enjoyed themselves pretty much as they wished.

Which, around the pool itself, made for some interesting times. People who really wanted privacy found a room indoors; for those who didn’t mind a few observers, though… well, Luke may have been part of the first couple to get off without hiding it, but he and Jess certainly weren’t the only ones. The smell of sex was pervasive, even over the slight chemical tang in the water.

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Exams were done, school was out, and it was a fine summer day. What more reason did anyone need for a party? And what was more natural for an otter from the city than a pool party?

Not that everybody who attended was an otter. But Ryan and Jessica, hosting it while their parents were gone, were otters; every otter around that age that Luke knew in town was there; and Luke himself, of course, was one as well. All in all, about thirty college-age people were around, fairly evenly split between male and female, and about a third of them were otters.

Including some damn fine otters, in his mind, their hosts hardly least of all.

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<< Back to Chapter 10: Period of Adjustment | On to Chapter 12: New Equilibrium >>

The day wore into the evening without much further event. I’d got over my nervousness enough to sit in contact with him – yeah, pretty close to his package, at that – but it wasn’t gone entirely; besides, the last few days had left me pretty well sated. So things stayed casual; a bit more conversation, a few hours of gaming with some idle chatter mixed in, a light dinner. After the last, I was starting to feel a bit ragged from a high-strung day; despite how much sleep I’d got in the past few days, more of it was the main thing on my agenda.

The thought of going back upstairs to that big bed made me quail, though. I didn’t know why. It seemed like it’d be a big step, though – like I’d be moving in – if I were to occupy that bed. And I wasn’t ready for that.

When I asked Sam if I could borrow their spare room for the night, he didn’t seem surprised or dismayed. A little wistful, yeah – just enough to let me know he’d have welcomed my company – but he helped me get settled without a word of complaint. Gave me a kiss goodnight, too – strong enough to make my heart pound, not so much that it felt like he was going to slide in with me. Or into me. At any rate, one last nuzzle to my ears, one more squeeze to my shoulder, and he left me to it.

Another time, that kiss would’ve probably left me with a raging hard-on and the question of what to do with it. This time, though – well, even I had to admit that I’d got an enviable amount of sex in the past few days. Either that or general exhaustion was enough to keep things from getting beyond a slight stirring.

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All in all, it had been a satisfying day.

The platoon being on leave didn’t mean there was nothing to be done. Strictly speaking, the leave didn’t even include Valan himself; he had a portion of administrative work to do, including some reports to catch up on. Even the marines under his command needed to make sure they were ready to leave when their leave was up. It did mean light duty, though; a few hours filing reports, a few more hours organizing some packing with those soldiers who had energy to burn and wanted something to do, all interspersed among as much time again in idle pursuits.

Still, light duty or not, satisfying or no, the skunk was fairly sore by the time the sun set – not from the physical activity so much as the desk work, and the makeshift workstation hadn’t helped, even if it had been nice to be outdoors while he worked – and it was with anticipation and relief that he brought his toiletries and slouched over toward the pool.

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Rank had its privileges.

In this case, Valan’s rank was nothing substantial – an acting subbie was hardly in the rarefied upper reaches of command – and his privilege was correspondingly simple: he had a private room. It was enough, though; enough space for the hefty cooler-box that he now lifted from the place it had occupied for the past few weeks.

The door opened on its own ahead of him, and closed behind; a glance over his shoulder confirmed that it had locked itself. Not that he was particularly worried. Most of his gear was with the quartermaster, not in his cabin, and the burden he now bore was the main other thing worth taking – even if anyone had the nerve to try to steal something from the barracks of a Star Lane Authority training camp.

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