From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 218 / 0164  [ Hiding In New Hampshire ]
Date: 10 Feb 1996 20:10:59 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
Lines: 1217
Message-ID: <4fiu4j$9n3@news1.halcyon.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: chinook.halcyon.com

Seren, Narquel 7, 0164

    I sat down in the driver's seat of the car painfully, laying my 
head against the steering wheel.  "Oh, rings, have I got a 
headache."

    "I take it we lost?" K'meh asked.

    "By a lot," I mumbled, still unmoving.  I thought about it for 
a moment.  "Still, that's not a bad thing... As a species, they're 
immature when it comes to their own collective reproductive 
destiny.  It's probably for the best that they have more time to 
think about the offer."

    She smiled.  "You think they're immature.  They think you're 
imperial and fascist, you know."

    "I know," I said, sitting back in my chair, patting the letter 
from  Professor King, still in my pocket, which echoed my thoughts 
exactly.  I  punched the radio to the Pendor Embassy in Geneva.  
"Hera?"

    "I'm here, Ken.  Whatcha need?"

    "Clearance to ORD-US."

    "I'll put it through.  You'll want customs?"

    "As per," I said.

    There was a delay of several minutes until Hera said "Done," 
and I lifted the small four-person vehicle into the air and we set 
off across the Atlantic, doing Mach 3 for most of it.  We arrived 
in Chicago three hours later.  My passport identified me as a 
junior staff member of the Pendorian Embassy To The United Nations.  
Customs treated us as such.

    As I pulled out onto the freeway, K'meh laughed sharply.  "They 
never knew who you were!"

    "Illusionware is great, isn't it?"  I said, smiling and 
considering my course of action.  I plotted a course to New 
Hampshire and settled back for the long drive, letting the computer 
drive.  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.  But K'meh interrupted 
me.  "Can I ask you a question?"

    "Depends," I sighed, not opening my eyes.

    "Why do you want to buy Earth?"

    I opened my eyes and looked at her, smiling.  "Because I think 
it's a museum."

    "Huh?"

    I turned my head to look at her, also watching the beautiful 
scenery go by outside.  It had been literal centuries since I had 
been free to drive along a U.S. Interstate, especially in the 
northeast where the terrain flows and ebbs like water frozen in a 
strobe photograph.  "Terran Humans have spent a relatively short 
part of their existence figuring out how to get off their own 
world.  But in the eight thousand years since they figured out how 
to iconify their communication, the most powerful among them have 
created enormous, wonderful monuments to themselves, their gods, 
their people, their ideals.  I want to preserve that.  I think 
that, in the human crush, a lot of those wondrous testaments to how 
they got from being hunter-gatherers to citizens of the stars will 
be destroyed.  It's time they got off their rotten little mudball, 
and turned their eyes towards honoring the drive that got them 
there."

    She smiled and leaned over, kissing my cheek.  "You would do 
that with Terra... " She was silent for a moment.  "But, be honest.  
When we meet another interstellar species, will you make the same 
offer?"

    I closed my eyes.  "I don't know.  I really don't.  I'd like to 
think that I will.  There's something special about Terra, although 
nobody else must know that."

    She sighed; I couldn't see the expression on her face, but I 
assumed it was something of a smile.  "Ken," she said quietly, 
"It's not a surprise that you love Terra.  It is the world of your 
birth."

    She was right, of course.  It bothered me that it was that 
obvious, but then I had asked that my pilot and security companion 
(I smiled at that word, 'companion'; she had become more than that 
over the course of the trip) be one of the best, and the best 
security people are by nature observant.  K'meh had so far proven 
to be observant in everything she did.  She was also excruciatingly 
dedicated to her job.  I told her that if the time ever came for 
her to be my body shield, that she was to ignore orders and let me 
take the damn bullet; I regarded myself as no more important than 
she. 

    I dozed on the trip until the chime in the car alerted me that 
we were approaching our destination.  I took manual control, easing 
the car off the Interstate for another hour-long drive through 
gently rolling hills and green forested lands hidden after 
nightfall.  We passed a sign  reading "Clarke's Lake Recreation 
Area," and I looked around, waiting to see a sign for lodging 
available.  After nearly two centuries of self-imposed isolation 
from Terran culture, my knowledge of how things were done around 
here hadn't become as rusty as I had feared.  A 'VACANCY' sign 
presented itself, and I turned into the parking lot, banking the 
fusion plant down and turning off the major electric systems.  The 
motor came to a soft whine-down.  

    The door opened easily enough as I stepped out, groaning at 
even so short a trip as the past four hours, mentally dreading the 
120-hour trip back home in the Kangas, a week from now.  I had two 
days free before I had to return to New York, and then again to 
Geneva, and I fully intended to spend at least one day here, in the 
middle of nowhere.

    Finding the innkeeper was no easy task; it was, after all, 
three in the morning here, and the innkeeper was sound asleep.  He 
was an elderly gentleman, and encountering him reminded me 
painfully of Victoria for a moment.  "What can I do for you?" he 
asked sleepily.  I found myself stifling my amusement at his 
pajamas.

    "I need a room for two.  Two nights.  Until Sunday morning."

    He smiled that mischievous smile all merchants seem to get when 
they've got some sort of windfall on their hands.  I was willing to 
be a windfall for this man; after all, it was only money.   He 
said, "Well, sure I can do that.  I'm afraid that I only got one 
room left, and it's a triple with a kitchen."

    "What does that mean?" I asked.

    "It means it's got a small second bed, a 'fridge, and a stove.  
The bed's for children an' all.  You got any kids with you?"

    "Nope," I said.  "Just me and Meh."

    "May, eh?" he said, smiling.  "That's a pretty name.  She a 
pretty girl?"

    "I think so," I said, smiling in kind.  He returned my grin by 
widening his, handed over the keys.  "Thirty nine dollars," he 
announced, punching it up on a small personal computer.  Like most 
Americans, he rather pointedly avoided calling it the "u-dollar."  
"How you gonna pay for that?" he asked.

    "Cash do?  I can do in advance, if you like."

    "I'd appreciate that.  Let me put the deposit in the bank 
before the weekend."  I thought about that, curious.  Most banks 
had been never-close affairs on Terra for nearly fifty years.  It 
was either his age or an eccentric bank talking.  Then again, 
Clarkesburg was in the middle of rural New Hampshire, as close to 
the Middle Of Nowhere as you can get; that's why I'd come here.  
Maybe his bank really was closed for the weekend.  It didn't 
matter.  I considered how I was to proceed, pulled out a small 
leather folder in which I normally kept my embassy identification 
papers (more an affectation for the locals... it was the AI's who 
maintained security at our embassies) and pulled out two twenty  
unified-dollar bills and handed them over.  "You can keep the one.  
Consider it a deposit on the key," I said, remembering a time when 
getting a motel room had meant paranoia of a kind.  Maybe it still 
did.

    I took the keys and returned to the car, finding an empty 
parking space.  We grabbed our flight packs from the back seats and 
found our room.  I opened the door and followed K'meh in, closing 
and latching the door behind us and snapping the air conditioner 
on.  The room was warm when we entered, but the air from the 
'conditioner was positively cryogenic.  It wouldn't be long before 
we would need the covers.  I smiled at the thought.  Even Geneva 
had been unbelievably warm for summertime, and the idea of having 
independent control over my own heating and cooling again appealed 
to me.  I was amazed at how such a small thing as being able to 
turn the air conditioner on myself pleased me.

    I laughed at the thoughts whirling in my head and turned to 
look at K'meh, who had collapsed onto the large double bed and was 
staring up at the ceiling.  "Hey," I said, "All we've done all day 
is sit in the car."

    "I'm dead," she said.

    I walked over to where she lay on the bed, her legs dangling 
over the side.  Her arms were relaxed at her sides, her eyes were 
closed.  I reached down for the small flap of stiff cloth that 
covered over and concealed the zipper, grabbed it and tugged 
downwards, opening her flight suit from throat to crotch.  She 
didn't even move as I pulled the two sides apart, exposing her 
breasts to the cooling air.  Her nipples responded to the cooler 
air, crinkling slightly and pointing upwards towards the ceiling.  
"Hey, Mehran..."

    "Mmrrrr?" she asked, not opening her eyes in the slightest.

    "Are you really that tired?"

    Her paw came up and, in the quiet dark of the motel room, with 
her eyes closed, she felt her way up my chest to my shoulder.  "Not 
tired, but stiff.  I could use a bath."

    I nodded, looking down at her soft body with it's well-trimmed 
and cared-for fur.  "Don't let me stop you," I said.

    "I'm not," she said tiredly.  "I just don't want to move to do 
it."

    I laughed loudly.  "Tell you what," I said.  "I'll go start 
your bath, and while you're in it I'll go get some supplies.  What 
do you say to that?"

    "I say it sounds wonderful.  I like my baths..."

    "Cool, I know."  I smiled and walked into the bathroom, noting 
with satisfaction that the tub was quite large for what I had 
perceived to be a rather run-down motel.  I started the water 
running, trying to judge the temperatures she liked with how much 
heat the porcelain of the tub would absorb in the process; it's 
actually something of a science.  I laughed at the silliness of my 
thoughts and watched the tub fill up.  When it was about two-thirds 
full, I walked back into the living room and pulled K'meh into a 
sitting position.  "You want me to get up now, don't you?" she 
said, peering up at me with one eye open.

    "You wanted a bath.  Go take," I said, pointing towards the 
bathroom.  She rose with a groan and disappeared through the open 
door.  I rummaged about in her bag for her soap and for a fur-trap; 
I was quite certain the motel showers didn't come with one as 
standard equipment.  She smiled tiredly as I dropped them by the 
tub; I gave her a kiss on the muzzle, pulled my jacket back on and 
left the motel room, locking the door behind me.

    I looked up at the night sky as I drove down the road, grateful 
to a species that had finally collected its wits and decided that 
grey was not the color the sky was meant to be.  I found a small 
convenience store, helmed at this time of night by a lovely young 
Caucasian femHuman who was occupying her mostly-free time by 
watching the television.  Still, she didn't seem to resent the fact 
that I'd intruded on her private little world.  "Whatcha watching?" 
I asked as I walked in, hoping my accent wouldn't give me away.

    "News right now," she said.  She was chewing gum.

    "Anything exciting?" I asked.

    "A few things," she offered.  "They decided not to sell Earth 
to Pendor."

    "Do you think that's a good thing or not?" I shouted from back 
behind a stand of paper cartons filled with preprocessed unleavened 
bread products, most of which were artificially colored and 
flavored.  The ones that weren't proudly attested to that fact.

    "I don't see why they didn't," she replied, her voice rising 
and falling in an unconscious cadence.  "I mean, it's only real 
estate, and what they're offering is hellacious, y'know?"

    "I guess," I said.  I looked over the limited selection and 
picked up a loaf of whole-wheat bread, a tin of peanut butter, some 
packaged meats, a few other things.  Although part of me craved it, 
I avoided the  sugared products as much as I could; I knew this 
would keep K'meh and I going for a while, but we're still Pendorii, 
and we both needed more food than the average human.  Sugar would 
only confuse our systems.

    "You know what?" she said, looking at me as I walked up the 
aisle.

    "What?" I asked, smiling.

    "You look a lot like him."  She began ringing up my purchase on 
a cash register that had to be older than she was.  Still, it had a 
card slot, so I handed my covert copy over.  "Stephen Ryan Embers," 
she read aloud.  "Guess you aren't Ken Shardik."

    I laughed.  "You know how often I get told that?"

    "Well, you do look a lot like him!" she said, laughing back.

    "I know.  It's annoying."  I gave her my best smile.  She 
smiled back; I took a small string bag out a jacket pocket and put 
my purchases into it, giving her a friendly wave.  As the door was 
closed on creaky, ancient springs, I heard her shout "Hey!"

    I poked my head back in.  "Huh?" I asked.

    "Do you know 'Ryan' is a sexy name?"

    I smiled.  "Yeah, I've been told that.  G'night!"  I eased back 
out into the cool New Hampshire night and drove back to the motel.

    I opened the door quietly; K'meh stirred only enough to 
register that it was me, a 'friendly,' and she was unconscious 
again.  I put most of the food into the refrigerator and joined 
her.

              -               -              -

    When morning came, I stirred in bed, finding her lying on her 
side, facing away from me.  I snuggled up against her under the 
covers and draped my arm over her side.  She shifted, groaning 
softly before lifting her head.  "What time is it?" she said.

    "About two hours after dawn," I said.

    "That late?" she asked, picking her head up to scan the room 
suddenly.

    I put my hand to the side of her head and pushed it down to the 
pillow again playfully.

    "It's not that late," I said.  "We're on recreation, remember?  
We're not supposed to move until at least 3 lome', remember?"

    She laughed and settled back down, giving my arm a brief, 
acknowledging hug between her arm and her body.  I was playing 
gently with the fur between her breasts, sliding my fingers along 
the fur, feeling the texture and resiliency of her breasts with my 
hands.  She purred softly as I touched her here and there, sliding 
my palm along her  curves.  She grabbed my hand with hers suddenly 
and closed her hand around it, holding my fist within hers, 
tightly.  She slid away, turning to face me.  "So," she smiled, 
"What are we going to do with our spare hour?"

    "Good question," I replied, leaning close to give her a proper, 
morning kiss.  I wondered how bad my morning breath was; hers 
wasn't unpleasant at all.

    Apparently she didn't think mine all that bad, because she 
wouldn't let me get away from it.  When I tried to move away, she 
wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me on top of her, 
our tongues wrestling between us.

    I'll admit to something-- I sometimes kiss with my eyes open, 
just to get a look at faces.  K'meh's was lost in abandonment as we 
kissed, and I closed my eyes again to lose myself in the sensuality 
of tongue against tongue, lips to muzzle, nose to nose, listening 
to her breathing.  She was a wonderful kisser, and that she 
indulged me in my desire to kiss was sheer bliss.  Not to mention 
that it gave me an erection.

    But there was something else down at my groin demanding my 
attention.  "K'meh," I said softly as I backed off, "let me go."

    "Aww..." she said.

    "K'meh, if you don't let me go, there's going to be a warm, wet 
feeling between us, and it won't be love."

    There was a moment's look of puzzlement, followed by 
comprehension.   She let me go, saying "I'll need the head after 
you."  I stood up and walked into the bathroom, relieving myself.  
I noted with another kind of relief that she had remembered to use 
the furtrap.  "Your turn," I said as I walked back out.

    "Thanks," she said, tossing the sheets aside to get out of bed 
and follow my lead.  She returned two minutes later, smiling.  "I 
feel much better now," she announced, easing into bed.  I seized 
her shoulder and pulled her into bed, throwing the covers back over 
her as I did so; the air conditioner (why do they call it that?  It 
only cools the air after all) was still putting out a nearly 
sub-arctic breeze.  She giggled as we rolled over so that now she 
was on top of me.  We returned to kissing as we had been before, 
this time taking it a little more slowly and carefully.  She moaned 
softly as I caressed her breasts, playing carefully with her 
nipples, feeling the flesh around them crinkle in the cooling air 
of the motel room.

    She gasped softly as I touched her belly; for me, there are few 
pleasures more sensual than the fur of a sentient, willing female.  
And few more enticing.  I avoided her mons to caress her thighs, 
coming close with every pass of my hand, but never quite getting 
there.

    I could clearly feel my erection; it took less than a tenth of 
a second to register that it was there before my attention returned 
to my fingers, and my mouth.

    "That feels so good," she sighed as I stroked and petted her 
gently.  "But there's something we haven't done yet, and I want to 
see."

    "What's that?" I asked, looking up at her.  

    "Stay where you are.  In fact, put your hands behind your 
back."

    I leaned back in bed, against the array of pillows we had, and 
put my hands behind my head, lacing my fingers together.  "That 
good enough?" I asked.

    "Mm-hmm," she smiled.  "Now, just lie still," she said, 
wrapping her fingers around my cock and starting to stroke it 
slowly.  "I want to watch you climax from this."    

    "From just your hand?" I said, looking into her eyes.  She 
nodded.  "I hope you have strong arms," I said, laughing.

    She smiled.  "We'll see, won't we?"

    She began pumping my cock slowly, sliding the skin up and over 
the head and back down.  "You know how to do it well," I said, 
sighing.

    Without a reply, she began stroking my cock surely; her fingers 
were soft, padded almost as much as an Uncia's paws would be, and 
she knew how to keep pace.  She also didn't seem to get tired at 
all, her paw stroking faster.

    I started squirming in the bed, trying to encourage my orgasm 
closer, without any success; I always take a long time to come when 
P'nyssa plays with me this way, and there didn't seem to be any 
difference with K'meh.  

    I gasped and tried to lie still, whimpering as my pleasure, and 
my frustration, increased.  The impulse to have it done and over 
with was strong, as was my desire to show her how good it felt, and 
that impulse was being translated in the muscles from my calves to 
my shoulders straining against the building tension in my groin.  I 
was so close, so damned close, for so long...

    Finally, I came!  Better yet, I exploded, shouting out a loud 
"Yeah!" as I shot my semen into the air.  "Oh, yeah," I gasped 
again before opening my eyes to look at her.  She was grinning 
like, well, like a Cheshire Felinzi.  I reached for her, grabbing 
her behind the neck and pulling us together, kissing her hard.

    She didn't seem to be paying that much attention to the kiss, 
and soft whimpers were coming from her throat as I settled back 
onto the bed.  From her kneeling position she had her left paw 
between her legs, and I had a bedside view of her masturbating 
furiously, her fingers tugging and sliding over her clitoris with 
such speed that I wondered it hadn't burned off from the friction 
yet.  Her body tensed as she threw her head back, but still didn't 
stop, pressing the ball of her paw against her groin, grinding it 
back and forth and finally she let out a loud gasp and collapsed 
forward onto the bed, right next to me, her ass still wildly 
pumping into the air, her hand against her cunt still pushing her.  
I just watched, amazed, as she put herself through one, and then 
another orgasm before finally settling down and holding still.

    I laughed softly.  "It's supposed to be morning, Mehran.  What 
are you doing tiring yourself out this early?"

    "I'm not tired," she said.  "Just sated."

    I stroked the top of her head as she lay there, catching her 
breath.  "You are one incredible fem," I said, smiling.

    "As you are an incredible mel," she replied.  "Now go get 
cleaned up; you didn't wash last night, and honestly Ken, you need 
a bath."

    I nodded and optioned for a shower instead, enjoying the warm 
water  and the clean feeling once I was out; living with furries I 
had come to enjoy the joys of shaking water out of my hair, and I 
indulged myself here, being careful to make sure the shower curtain 
was drawn before doing so.

    "So," she said as we dressed.  "What are we here for?"  On my 
advice, she chose to dress in a provocative manner; I took a pair 
of denim pants and made them into shorts with a knife.  Her shirt 
was two sizes too large for her; it draped over her large bosom and 
hung down her front, blatantly exposing the tops of her breasts as 
they swelled through the bright white fabric.
    "Well, you were complaining earlier that humans just saw you as 
my fucktoy, and not as a person in your own right.  I can't 
guarantee you won't get the same treatment here, but I can 
guarantee that there'll be more people here of the kind not likely 
to do that."

    "In America?" she asked, surprised.

    "Not exactly.  This kind of people can be found almost 
anywhere; Clarkesburg's just familiar to me as a sort of meeting 
ground for them, and it's well isolated.  It would take a few hours 
from realizing we're here to calling the newsies.  Hopefully, we'll 
get a full day without much undue attention from the authorities."  
I found it amusing that I lumped the information media in with the 
generic 'authorities.'  But they were nowadays, as far as I was 
concerned.

    "So what kind of people is that?" she asked.

    "Children."

    There was a pause while she stared at me, and then a slow smile 
crossed her face.  "You bastard," she announced.

    "Clarkesburg has one of the largest, oldest and most eclectic 
collections of video games, virtual reality games, and the like to 
be found anywhere on Terra.  Not to mention a large, clean lake to 
swim in and a water-based theme park on the other side of town.  
There's no way you can't connect with some of the people here.  
You'll be more of a celebrity than I'm ever seen as!"

    She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "I'd have to wear some 
sort of modesty suit to go swimming, wouldn't I?"

    I looked at her carefully.  "'Fraid so," I said.  "No matter 
how feline you look, there's no way to hide the fact that you're a 
woman, too."  I smiled.  "We should be grateful for small favors."

    She grinned back at me, giving me a kiss on the cheek.  "You're 
wonderful.  And I'm hungry."

    No surprise there, I thought.  "There's probably a greasy spoon 
somewhere up the road; let's walk, it's less than a mile to where 
the 'action' is, so to speak."

    "Walk... that means I have to..."

    "That's right.  You and I are going out in public together.  
That's  okay, I've already been spotted."

    "How?" she asked.  "When you traveled last night for supplies?"

    "Well, the girl behind the counter told me I looked a lot like 
Ken Shardik."

    She laughed.  "I hope she's not disappointed when she finds out 
you really are!"  I nodded and opened the door to the motel room, 
putting the keys in a zippered pocket of the bulky leather jacket I 
was wearing.  I also grabbed what identifying papers I would need 
later.  We started down the graveled road, staying close to each 
other.

    I realized that I was going to regret the jacket later; 
although it was a chill New Hampshire morning, complete with 
overcast sky and fog, my senses told me that by midday it was going 
to be a scorcher.  And I was going to have to lug this four-kilo 
monster with me.  Oh, well, I'd survive the experience.

    As we wandered down the road, kicking loose gravel as we did 
so, she said, "Uh... Ken?  What's a 'greasy spoon?'"

    I laughed.  "Sorry.  It's an expression I used a long long time 
ago.  I'm not sure what the origin is, but I think you'll have as 
good a guess as I do once we get there.  Trust me, the food is 
usually good."

    She nodded as I found the place I remembered, a small wooden 
building, painted white with red trim.  Pappa Joe's Kountry Kookin' 
it said on the sign, and the little plastic sign, illustrated in 
black ink,  probably laid with a wide, cloth-tip pen, read "Open 
ALL THE TIME!"  I opened the door and led her in.

    And everything seemed to come to a stop.  Not all at once, but 
slowly the entire restaurant ground to a dead halt.  The patrons, 
the waitresses, finally even the cook looked up to stare at her... 
and me.  Finally, a waitress came over and said, "Can... can I get 
you folks a table?"

    I smiled, trying to put her at ease.  "Sure.  Two for 
breakfast," I said, holding up two fingers and talking at a 
'chatty' pace.

    The waitress gave me a sidelong glance; the diner still had not 
come back up to speed as she said, "You folks... don't need 
anything special, do ya?"

    I looked left, then right, my eyebrows raised in amusement only 
half-feigned.  "Food?" I said.

    Finally, the waitress, who had probably been subjected to all 
kinds of weirdness in her life, regained her composure enough to 
guide us to a table.  "Next thing you know," K'meh said, "she'll 
bring me milk in a bowl."

    I grinned and opened my menu.  "What are you looking for, 
K'meh?  Meat?  Carbs?  Uh... can you read Anglic?"

    "Of course I can read Anglic!" she hissed me.  "You mean you 
haven't noticed by now?"

    "Didn't think to ask," I said.  "I think I'm going to have the 
pancakes."

    "Sounds good," she said, "but I want meat."  When the waitress 
returned, I ordered for both of us.  People in place around the 
room kept staring at us, some openly, some covertly, but they were 
all at least stealing a glance.  "You're popular," I observed.

    "Must be you," she said.

    "I just look like a famous human.  You, dear, are probably the 
first alien they've ever had in here."

    She smiled as we waited for our meals.  "I see what you mean by 
'greasy spoon,'" she observed.  Still, by the time we paid our bill 
(again, with the 'Embers' card), she had downed half a dozen eggs 
and two side-orders of ham, along with four glasses of milk.

    As I turned to leave, the waitress said, "Hey."  Just like the 
girl at the convenience store did.  "Are you really Ken Shardik?"

    I turned and smiled, shaking my head.  "Actually, no," I said.  
"We're his bodyguards."  Which was half true.  "I get paid to look 
like him."  Which was also, in an way, half true.

    "Uh-huh," the waitress said.  I gave her a wave and left her a 
healthy tip before we headed out the door and up the road.  We 
spent the next two hours wandering around somewhat aimlessly; by 
the time noon had rolled around, though, the strip that was alight 
with video games had become a noisy, rollicking center of youthful 
attention.

    That was when K'meh found her niche in the world of 
Clarkesburg, NH: a projection-based VR game called F-25 Space 
Interceptor.  There were already a dozen kids gathered around the 
thing.  I gave her a handful of  tokens and told her to go have 
fun.  She walked right up to the crowd and said "Is there a line?"

    "Yeah, sure," one of the boys said before turning to look at 
her.  "Holy shi... Hey, Dickie!  Turn around."

    K'meh instantly went from trying to get to the center of 
attention to being the center of attention.  I laughed to myself as 
she waited her turn in line (they all wanted to watch her first 
anyway, but she insisted they go), finally got in and adjusted 
everything the way she liked it.  "So, what's the purpose of this 
game?"

    "You have to kill the bad guys?"

    "That's it?  How's it fly?"  Four young men, ages eleven to 
fifteen, started tripping over themselves to explain it to her.  
Finally she nodded, dropped in a few tokens and took off.

    Not surprisingly, she did badly.  On her first game.

    By her third game she was getting the hang of it.

    By her sixth game, she was placing eighth in the top ten of the 
day.  There was an alternate "Top ten of all time" list.  She was 
nowhere near that and, I reflected, the day was very early.

    I checked to make sure my communicator was where I had left it, 
in my pocket, and wandered off by myself.  I had come here often 
when I was  younger, about the age of the boys K'meh was currently 
entertaining.  It hadn't changed much in seventy years; the 
amusement center that had been built out over the lake on pylons 
had been rebuilt, but the construction still had that cheery wooden 
(probably plastic, I reflected) look to it,  covered over in 
blue-white paint, flat white on the roof.  A candy-apple red 
trimmed the two open doors, giving the building the look of a clown 
if you stood far enough back.

    I looked in and around, amazed at the eclectic experiences to 
be found among Terra's video game collection.  Most of these games 
are a power trip of one sort or another, I noted, a carefully 
balanced approach of exaggerating some human or mechanistic 
capability, and then finding a way to interface with that 
exaggeration via a joystick, buttons, a glove, a helmet, whatever 
the control mechanism was for that particular game.  

    But more interesting to me was watching the children at play 
with those machines.  Although there were young girls apparent 
everywhere, it seemed that video games were still the universe of 
boys.  The concept of equal rights hadn't caught up with the 
realities of adolescence.  I watched a collection of three boys 
clustered around an enclosed and padded circular pit; a fourth 
stood in the middle, bright red strips of velcro attached to his 
wrists, ankles, and a lightweight VR helmet around his head; there 
were two other helmets by the machine, apparently more for 
different size heads than for any sort of direct confrontation.  
The fourth kicked and punched at air, sometimes seemingly 
head-butting his imaginary opponent; he never spoke a word aside 
from a few effort- filled grunts.  Twice he fell down.  In general, 
he looked like an awkward, unseeing idiot.

    On the holotank his companions were watching, however, he was 
transformed into a martial artist that would put Bruce Lee to 
shame.  (Where in Hell did I drag that name up from?)  It wasn't 
the accuracy of  his kick that was important, it was the timing; as 
long as he kicked at the right speed, his opponent was dead, or at 
least took damage.  The character that was 'him' mowed down his 
enemies with a violence that I would have found either cathartic or 
appalling, depending on the situation.

    As I watched others about the room indulging in their favorite 
forms of competition, I wondered about the young martial artist.  
In a Terra that had almost come to grips with its capacity for 
violence, I wondered just how intimate one could be with the 
electronic version of violence before finding the real version 
attractive.  Especially when he 
was being rewarded for his skill at delivering violence with a high 
score and the adoration of his fellows.

    I shook my head; ultimately it came down to a decision, I knew.  
I'm very fond of that thought, that we decide what to do and say.  
But sometimes I still wonder how much harder that decision is when 
we're influenced by games such as those.  Yes, rugby is a more 
violent game, in that bones are broken and teeth are knocked out, 
but in rugby it's still considered "wrong" to deliberately do those 
things.  

    I shook my head; this thinking was getting me nowhere.  After 
all, I could go back one more level and say that I decide to play 
such games.  That the market shouldn't tolerate such games, that 
the producers should find more productive expressions to put into 
their machines.  I sighed softly.  It would be a long time before 
anyone really knew the answers.

    I walked back outside onto the midway, looking left and right 
and almost being run over by rollerskaters before crossing into the 
open-air  but covered-over arcade, where I'd left K'meh and her 
small gaggle of fans.  

    The gaggle had doubled to a mob; there were about twenty people 
watching her, at least three of which were adult.  They were almost 
all male, especially the three I classed as distinctly 'adult'.  
Probably fathers watching their sons as an excuse to watch K'meh.  
I stood with them, watching intently as she finally turned the 
machine over at a million points before climbing out of the cockpit 
to look around.  "Ken!"

    "Not bad, Mehran.  I see you have an audience."

    "Yeah," she said.  "This is Bill, and Jerry, and Richard," she 
said, pointing out three of the boys who had been part of the 
original troop.  "We've been competing."

    "Nothin' to it," Jerry said.  "She's a hot ace; I can't believe 
she'd never played the game before."

    "Believe it," I said.  "She just flies the real thing in real 
life."

    "You didn't say nothin' about that!" Jerry said accusingly, 
looking at K'meh.

    "You didn't ask," K'meh replied.  "Right now I'm playing driver 
for an interstellar transport, but usually I like to fly the little 
twoflits we have back home."

    "Really?"

    "Really," K'meh responded.

    "Wow.  What's it like in space?"

    K'meh smiled.  "It's long, long periods of intense boredom 
punctuated by seconds of sheer terror.  Namely, launch and landing.  
But it's fun.  You think you'll go into space when you're older?"

    "I already did," the one she'd identified as 'Richard' said.  
"With my parents; it wasn't anything special."

    "You didn't say that when you came back," Jerry said, hitting 
his friend on the arm.  "You were blabbin' for months about how 
cool it was."

    Richard blushed, trapped in his own nonchalance.  "Yeah, 
well..."

    "Look," I said, "Can I take my girlfriend over to the 
waterslides, like we'd meant to do?" I said.

    "She's your girlfriend?" Jerry asked, looking up at me.  "Hey, 
you're that Ken Shardik guy!"

    "Am I?" I said; the adults reacted to that pretty visibly.  
"Well," I said, getting down close and whispering conspiratorially, 
"don't tell anyone."

    "Okay," he said.  I handed him a few token, a hopeless bribe, 
and led K'meh down the midway, laughing.  "You seemed to make a few 
friends back there," I said.

    "They seemed to like me a lot," she said, straightening out her 
fur idly.

    "You're different.  You're someone else here, not just another 
pilot, not just another Pendorian.  I figured I'd drop you into the 
middle of a room full of people who know better than to have 
expectations, and what do you know?  They liked you."

    She smiled and leaned over, kissing my cheek.  "Thank you."  I 
blushed and stopped to buy some ice cream from a streetside vendor.  
We were attracting stares; more than that, we were attracting 
followers; people were coming out of their stores to watch us walk 
by.  When I reached the water slide, the guy at the booth had to 
call the manager to okay K'meh's using the facilities.  I could 
understand that; her fur was something their hardware was not 
prepared to handle.

    "So what's this like?" she asked.

    "It's just a slide.  You get up to the top, you get wet and you 
slide down.  Watch the tunnels."  I grabbed my plastic foam mat and 
headed up the stairs, watching the water shoot out of hoses and 
head down the slides.  "We should go change."

    "I have to wear those damn things, don't I?"

    "You'll knock 'em dead, K'meh."  She smiled as we found our 
sex-specific bathrooms and I changed into my trunks, she into her 
one- piece.  I had selected a one-piece for her not because she 
would look bad in a bikini (she wouldn't, although maybe she wasn't 
thin enough for one), but because it was an easier article of 
clothing for her to figure out how to put on.

    When she came out, she looked lovely.  The black suit 
accentuated the white fur, and the teardrop-shaped spotting seemed 
to flow into the suit at strategic locations on her arms and legs.  
"I feel silly," she said.

    "You look great!" I said.  "Come on."  We assaulted the stairs 
together, and by the time we got to the top she again had the 
attention of much of the male population extant.  I laughed and 
dove head-first down a twisting, curving tube, ignoring any sense 
of decorum and enjoying myself thoroughly.  When I hit the lake at 
the bottom, I waited 
patiently, and sure enough K'meh came out moments later.  I stepped 
on something cold, hard, and plastic, and remembered that Clarke's 
Lake was once spring-fed, but the spring had been capped to supply 
the town with water and the water I was feeling now was being 
pumped from the spring after treatment. 

    She was giggling as hard as I was.  "Remember to stay in your 
suit," I chided her.  "Don't want to shock the locals any more than 
we already have!"

    She laughed, lunged, and dunked me under the water.  I came 
back up sputtering and splashed at her.  Completely forgetting that 
I was over 200 years old, we played with the abandon of 
twelve-year-olds.  "Come on, another trip!" I shouted, and she 
agreed.  The next time we took a tube together, this one with a 
tunnel.

    We rolled about in the water tubes for at least two hours.  
People were, if not getting used to it, at least getting over the 
novelty of having a Felinzi playing in their park.  Children wanted 
to ride with her; half the males over the age of thirteen were 
staring at her so that I worried about their tongues' tread-factor.  
There were a few stares of outright resentment or hatred, but these 
were few and far between, and for that I was grateful.

    But the peace couldn't last forever.  I sighed to see a truck 
clearly labeled WUVR New Hampshire, with a big read '7' in a 
circle, pull up in the parking lot and a camera crew get out.  
"K'meh," I said.  "Company."

    "What kind?" she asked, going into security officer mode.

    "Media.  There's only one comfortable way out of this park, and 
that's through them."

    "What's the plan?"

    "We're close enough to depend on remote control."  I dug in my 
pocket for my communicator, grateful for the convention that 
dictated the damn thing had to be waterproof.  "Hera?"

    "Listening."

    "I need my car in the parking lot of my present edifice.  Can 
do?"

    There was a pause of a few seconds.  "You've got light cloud 
cover, so I can't get reliable satellite coverage in your location.  
But I know where you are, and I think I can manage."

    "How long?"

    "Ten minutes, Terran."

    "Thanks, Hera," I said, putting the radio away.  We stayed in 
the lake, eyeing the newsies closely.  The one with the camera kept 
pointing  it in our direction, and I earnestly wished for a way to 
short it out at range that didn't involve gunfire.  Oh, well.  The 
car arrived well before ten minutes, and I said "Let's get going."

    She nodded.  We retreated into the dressing rooms, still under 
the watchful eye of the newsies.  Inside, I dressed quickly and 
stepped out, waiting for K'meh.  She was out a few seconds later.  
"Ready?" I asked.

    "When you are," she said.

    I nodded and we headed for the gate; once through we started 
walking toward the car when the newscrew hurried over to us.  
"Vatare' Shardik!" the femHuman newscaster shouted.

    I turned around; I now had a good feel for how I was going to 
handle this encounter, and that was... angrily.  "Miss... ?"

    "Steppford."

    "Miss Steppford.  Vatare', in my language, mean 'Father' and is 
used strictly in a biological sense, unlike your own origin for 
'father,' 'dominus,' which also means 'master,' which is why 
'Father' has come to mean something else to those of your species 
who still believe in mythologies.  Now, to answer your next 
question, I came to Clarkesburg to relax, something I am now not 
capable of with your sudden  intrusion.  My companion is my 
security officer and bodyguard.  If you have any questions 
regarding the negotiations in Geneva, I suggest you contact our 
Foreign Office in Washington or New York.  If you're going to ask 
am I upset by the lost vote, my answer is 'No.'  That will be all."  
I smiled, turned and walked over to the car, which K'meh had 
already slid behind the wheel of, and got in.  We drove off, 
leaving the newsies behind.

    When we got back to the motel, I had the color scheme on the 
car change to white, then we hustled back into the motel room, 
slamming the door shut behind us and sighed. 

    She looked up at me, an angry grimace crossing her face, which 
immediately softened into a smile, followed by a giggle.  "I can't 
STAND those people!" she shouted, lunging across the room to hug 
me, hauling me down onto the bed.  We giggled together; her fur was 
still wet underneath and the water was soaking through her T-shirt.  
"You should get dryer," I laughed softly.

    "I don't want to!  Let's get you wet instead," she purred.

    "Males don't get wet that way, K'meh."

    She pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside.  "You'll get wet 
if I rub my wet fur all over you," she said playfully, proceeding 
to do just that.

    "Ack!  K'meh!  Stop that!" I shouted, wiping the wet fur and 
water away from my face.  I have to admit, having this beautiful 
fem rub herself against me was definitely turning me on; even 
through my own clothes I could feel her stiffening nipples against 
me, her breasts pressed between us.  I reached up and wrapped my 
arms around her neck, pulling her to me and kissing her muzzle.

    She was hotter this time than in the morning; her body panted 
and shuddered just from the kisses, as I slid my hand up one leg of 
her very short cutoffs and against her vulva.  She moaned softly as 
I touched and  probed her cunny, feeling at least one spot on her 
body that was still warm while being wet.

    Her hands were not idle, either.  She reached down and stroked 
my erection through the pants I was wearing; every rough rub 
brushed the material against my cock, approaching but never quite 
reaching a pain threshold.  I moaned back against her mouth, our 
tongues wrestling.

    I broke the kiss and slid down her body quickly, tugging aside 
the material of her shorts to lick at her cunt.  The scent was 
wonderful, tainted even as it was with the chlorine embedded in her 
fur from the waterslides.  It's like trying to describe the scent 
of a rose; I love it, but I can't say why.  It was a clean, sweet, 
delicious scent that encouraged me to press my mouth against her 
cunt completely, sliding my tongue against the slippery pink flesh.

    She moaned and lay down on the bed, her hands one-by-one 
opening the buttons that held her shorts closed.  "I'll have to 
stop to get those  off," I murmured.

    "Then stop now; I won't let you later," she gasped.  I pushed 
myself up and helped her off with the shorts.  I slid back between 
her legs, taking a long look at her cunt.  She had short, dense but 
not thick, strands of pubic fur covering her vulva, and I brushed 
these away with the side of my hand as I slid down and licked along 
the length with my tongue.  She gasped loudly.  "Oh..."

    I didn't say a word as I pressed my lips and tongue against her 
cunt.  Her body shuddered repeatedly under my oral caresses.  I 
love a responsive partner, and K'meh responded wonderfully.  Her 
legs would sometimes tremble, and when I would shift from an 
up-down to a circular motion with my tongue, she would suddenly 
moan loud for a moment, and moan again when I would shift back, or 
shift to a side-to-side motion, after a time.

    Peeking up along the length of her body, I could see her hands 
grabbing the blankets of the bed and twisting the material, 
grabbing reflexively against the cloth.  She began to make a 
high-pitched growling noise, almost a feline keening, and then 
suddenly broke out in a loud and violent "Meeeeeyooowwwwlll!" as 
she gasped and twisted, almost trying to escape my tongue.

    After a few moments and a few caressing, cool-down licks, I 
looked up the length of her body to see her muzzle pointed 
ceilingward, her chest heaving as she lay and caught her breath.  
"Meow?" I said gently.  "That's the first time I've ever heard you 
meow."  I smiled.

    She raised her head, gave me what might have been an angry 
stare if she didn't seem so disoriented, then dropped it back onto 
the bed.  The pillow made a soft 'poof!' sound.

    "It just seemed like the right thing to say," she said.  She 
crooked one finger in my direction.  "Come lie with me."

    I crawled up the bed and her body and lay beside her, cuddling 
her.  She was still wet, and still felt cold to the touch.  I 
smiled and hugged her. 

    We were silent together for a while; we may have dozed.  Time 
passed faster than I would have expected, but shortly thereafter I 
lifted my head to look around and it was already eight at night, 
local time.  I did some quick translation in my head; thirteen 
Ilye', except by now it would probably be dark, or nearing dark, 
outside.  It seemed strange, after so long, to think that the day 
was only going to be fourteen hours long.  Stranger still to 
consider that the night was only ten!

    K'meh stirred next to me.  She looked up at me with a gentle 
smile and said, "Did anyone ever tell you you were good in bed?"

    "A few people.  None of them as important as you."

    "Not even P'nyssa?"

    "Well, okay, one maybe more important than you."

    She laughed and tugged me down again.  Our kiss was slow and 
casual this time.  "You're no slouch in bed either, K'meh."

    "It's all in the wrist," she laughed.  

    "You're a good kisser," I said.

    "Thanks," she replied, smiling.  "'M cold."

    "No wonder; we've been lying here for nearly two hours, and 
when you came in your fur was still damp.  We have to get some heat 
into you."

    "What does the doctor recommend?" she asked.

    "A warm shower, followed by dinner.  There's a good steak place 
at the other end of town.  Good ribs."

    "Let's do it," she said.  "Want me to get the shower started?"

    "I'll do it," I said, rising from the bed and standing 
straight.  I felt a little dizzy; I was hungry myself.  I walked 
into the bathroom and started the water running, waiting for the 
temperature to come up to where I wanted it.

    "Ready?" she asked.

    "Yup," I said.  "Come on."  She walked in, still looking 
incredible despite the fact that her fur was everywhere.  I pulled 
aside the curtain and she climbed in with me.

    "Something tells me we've been here before," she said.

    "I like showers," I said.  "Especially with a friend.  Besides, 
it saves on water."

    She laughed.  "It does not!  You usually end up doing things 
that take forever anyway, Ken!"

    "Guilty as charged," I admitted.

    "Do me a favor?" she asked.  "Stand there," she said, "and face 
away from the shower."  The water was now hitting my back and 
sliding down.  It was hotter than even I usually like it; there was 
steam collecting in the bathroom now.  "You used your tongue on me 
before we slept," she said, kneeling down before me.  "I want to 
return the favor."

    I smiled and decided not to argue with her as she took my 
flaccid cock into her mouth.  It didn't stay that way for long.  
The sensation of her warm muzzle sliding back and forth along the 
length of my cock was more than enough to coax me to a full 
erection.  Back on Tycho I'd already found out how good a fellatrix 
she was, but this-- in the hot shower, naked, warm, wet-- was 
enough to drive me out of my mind!

    I looked up at the supports for the shower curtainrod, making 
sure they were in fact drilled into place before reaching up with 
my left hand to steady myself.  I was getting weak in the knees, 
watching her (not to mention feeling her) suck on my cock.  I felt 
strange... I very rarely climax from oral sex, and I have, for some 
reason, difficulty climaxing in the shower.  I was having no 
trouble getting closer to orgasm today.

    She became more sure, her tongue dancing along the underside of 
my cock, her muzzle closed and tight and warm around it.  She 
didn't try to swallow it and she didn't have to; she was doing a 
wonderful job as it was, and I was getting close.  I told her so.

    That didn't get any response from her at all; with 
single-minded determination she slid back and forth on my cock, one 
paw gripping the base while the other gripped my ass.  I could feel 
her claws sheathing and unsheathing gently against my butt in 
rhythm with her motions, and finally I came!... I came so hard my 
knees did give out, and I let go of the bar to come to a controlled 
fall in front of her, grabbing her shoulders on the way down to 
steady myself.

    "Are you okay?" she asked, lithely dodging the water that I was 
no longer blocking.

    "Oh, K'meh... I'm fine.  Really.  Just a little.. winded."

    She laughed and stood up slowly; I could hear the muscles in 
her legs going pop.pop.pop.  She helped me to a standing position 
after her, and I threw my arms around her and hugged her.  "Ken?" 
she asked quietly.

    "Hmm?"

    "You know that insect trap outside the front office porch?  The 
one with the electrified mesh and the ultraviolet light in it?"

    I dimly recalled seeing it when I had checked in.  "Yeah?"

    "If we don't go eat soon, I'm going to stand under it with my 
mouth open."

    I pushed her back to arm's length.  "K'meh!  Bleah!" I said, 
laughing.  "That's gross!"

    "I know," she said, laughing along.  "But I'm hungry!"

    I nodded, turning the water off and ducking out of the shower 
while she shook as much water as she could manage; in my mind's eye 
I pictured what her breasts would look like as I heard the water 
hitting the plastic sheeting of the curtain.  She pushed the 
plastic aside and stood there, looking impressive.  I handed her a 
towel.

    Ten minutes later, we were dressed in comfortable Terran 
clothing and driving down to a restaurant called Dougie's.  Despite 
the somewhat disarming name, inside the decorum was brass and dark 
wood, hanging plants and muted, indirect lighting.  "Can I help... 
you?" the hostess said as we walked in.

    We went through the entire rigamorale we had gone through that 
morning, only this time in a less open fashion.  I slipped the 
hostess a fifty u-dollar bill, saying "Please see to it that none 
of your staff alert the media."

    She nodded her acceptance, smiling when she was the amount, and 
led us to a table along a wall, out of sight of many of the 
patrons; the restaurant was not arranged in an open-floor manner, 
but had lots of miscellaneous walls, thus creating the nook we were 
sequestered in.

    "So," I said, "ready to go back to New York, and life?"

    "I want to go home," K'meh sighed.  "As much fun as Terra is, 
it's not what I want to live in."  

    "Not that you could."

    "Even if I were human, it's too confusing."  I nodded as we 
were brought drinks.  We ordered.

    The meal was as pleasant an arrangement as I could have 
imagined.  We giggled through much of it; she asked me detailed 
question about my childhood, Clarke's Lake and what I knew of the 
surrounding territory.  She was surprised at the gruesome nature of 
many of the tales I had picked up from my childhood around here, 
but they were part of the local folklore, both European pioneer and 
American native.  Tales of children being staked down to the 
ground, their eyes filled with honey to be eaten out by stinging 
ants, made her shiver and ask me not to tell any more, dinner was 
coming.

    I was surprised when, after dessert, someone wearing a white 
smock came into the dining room and approached our table.  "Mr. 
Shardik?"

    I'm a lousy actor, and an even worse liar.  I decided not to 
try the same stunt twice.  "Yes?"

    "I wanted to know what you and your... friend... thought of the 
dinner tonight?"

    "What's your name?"

    "Tracy, sir."

    "To be honest, Tracy, I thought it was damn good.  What about 
you, K'meh?"

    "I had three orders," she purred softly, smiling at the cook 
(chef?  Never quite sure in these places).  "The ribs were 
wonderrrrfulll."  She caressed the word 'wonderful' with her voice, 
her caiss coming out fully right then.

    "I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."   

    "Everything is just perfect.  Thanks for coming out."

    He smiled nervously, wiping his hands on a free corner of his 
smock.  "My pleasure," he said, backing out quickly and turning, 
almost running, into the kitchen.

    "That was nice of him," K'meh said, smiling.

    "Yeah," I said, returning the smile wistfully.  "So, ready to 
go?"

    "Yes," she nodded.

    We paid our bill and headed back to the apartment.  If we were 
followed, I failed to notice it.  Back in the motel room, we slept 
the sleep of children; content, peaceful, and quiet.  Dawn was 
coming, and with it the drive back to New York, then Geneva, then 
Luna to pick up our scientists, then finally back to Pendor, home, 
and our own real lives.

--
"Journal Entry 218 / 0164  [ Hiding In New Hampshire ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  Redistribution of
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Any redistribution must include this copyright notice intact.
--
Elf Sternberg            FUCK THE CDA!       (Cohen vs. California, 1971)
elf@halcyon.com          Where evolution is outlawed, only outlaws evolve
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