Fur

    I stalk the isles, searching out my next one-night stand. Like an addict, they are all I can think about. The next touch, the next high... It's all the same. It calls to me; the cold glossy eyes, dead warmth... The anticipation is maddening.
    As I reach their assigned area, my pace slows. I am a child again, trapped in the awkward silence of a first kiss. But I'm not a child in the way that the others are, the ones that belong here. They long for a friend; I long for a lover.
    At first I am beside myself for what to do, now that I am here. 'Who will see?' I ask myself, Will they sense my secret perversions?
    My pace has slowed further, in the time which I hadn't realized I'd been walking at all. My feet have brought me here without my body's knowledge; my lust has overpowered the fear that had taken over my concious, a silent victory.
    I can feel the warmth from their tiny bodies already against my chest, hear the soft drumming of my pulse against their noses, taste the fabric as I gently kiss their fur... "Yes, please... more..." A silent whisper, but he hears me. A whimper, and then...
    My mind jerks me back to the present, and I hardly catch the whimper that almost escapes my lips. I find myself staring, and I blush; still in the mall, still in the children's toy store. But my, he made it feel so real...
    I always know which one it will be, but only after I've seen him. I don't know who I will want, only that he will call to me; and I will take him home, and make myself his. I will let him hold me, expose myself; let him take me the way he chooses. But they always, always, satisfy.
    I lick my lips, softly and slowly, as I reach for him. Running my fingers along his seam, I can't help but shiver. I spare not a glance about the aisle as I lift him to me, running one hand down his back and stroking his tailfur with the other. "So soft..."
    I close my eyes and shudder as all the pieces fall into place; his legs open, and close around my middle; his nose rubs mine affectionately before I lift him higher, pressing my cheek against his neck; pushing lower, to nuzzle his chestfur. I sigh into the soft expanse of his belly, wanting to go lower but knowing that we both must wait, lest we ruin all the fun, or get caught.
    And so I reluctantly pull away, lowering him back and turning him to rest at my hip. "Later, my love... we've all the time in the world." Then we're at checkout, and the young man is asking if I'd like a bag. I decline, and turn away before he has the chance to react. Disgust is never worse than puzzlement.

    It's hard for me to understand why people disapprove so much of my relationships. Most folks like to keep a souvenir from their lovers; it isn't too far of a cry from me collecting the lovers themselves.