Humble Pie 

By sum(fag)

'I am what I am, and that's all that I am.' Such simple words from a simple sailor, and yet it had taken you over twenty six years to figure out just how wise they actually were.

Hunched over the vanity of your childhood home's bathroom, you reluctantly examine yourself in the mirror, trying to figure out just who you are. With a sigh, you come to the conclusion, yet again, that you couldn't see anything else in your reflection other than a failure. After all the effort you'd put in, all the years of hard work, all the times you'd looked down on others while stepping on them to lift yourself up, here you were, right back where you started. Actually, even worse off than that. At least before you left the small town you'd grown up in, you'd had a few friends. But, like all the other relationships in your life, you'd pushed them away so that you could focus on your success. So, here you were, alone and faced with the reality that you hadn't been able to hack it in the city, and hadn’t had any other options besides moving back in with your parents like any other boomeranging millennial. With little to show for all the sweat and blood that you'd shed other than an overpriced car full of cheap suits and other meaningless souvenirs from your soon to be past life.

The only silver lining you could find in all of this was the fact that your parents had recently retired and now were off on the European tour that they'd been planning for decades. They'd been understanding of your situation over the phone, but you can just imagine once they get back in a couple of months, and their post-vacation glow fades. Your mother will doubtlessly start nagging you about what exactly went wrong in the city with your dream job in finance, why couldn't you stick with it even if you hated it? What would you tell her when you didn't really know the answers yourself?

With another sigh, you run your hand through your hair to messily neaten it, and decide that you should probably avoid mirrors, and deep introspective reflection, for a few days. At least until the hurt is a little less poignant. Or until your stubble becomes too unbearable. Heading downstairs, you check the kitchen, but your parents had prepared for a months long trip abroad, so there wasn't much in the way of food in either the refrigerator or the pantry.

You'd been home for several hours, mostly wallowing in self pity, so you were starting to get peckish. But it was already after ten, and neither of the grocery stores in town stayed open much later than nine. Resigning yourself to some cheap, stale carbs and whatever format of high fructose corn syrup was the most convenient from the nearest gas station, you made sure there weren't any obvious stains on your blue jeans or tee shirt and headed out the door, not bothering to lock it behind you.

For a moment you considered your car, but you hadn't felt like unpacking it, so it was still crammed to the roof with all your worldly goods, and you'd already spent several hours driving earlier today, as well as yesterday. Besides, maybe the night air would help clear you head a bit. So, shoving your hands in your pockets, you start down the sidewalk leading out of your neighborhood, toward the nearest convenience store.

The worst of the day's heat had dissipated, and the moon shone down from the clear night sky. There were streetlights placed at regular intervals, so it was too bright to see any but the most brilliant stars, which were probably satellites, but all in all, it seemed like the perfect conditions for a night walk.

The streets were quiet, and it seemed like you were the only one out and about as you passed older houses with perfectly manicured lawns. Many of them had a few windows lit from within, but most were dark, and you idly wondered if their residents were gone for the evening, or if they just went to bed that early around here. Frogs and crickets competed to see who could produce the most noise, but you could still clearly hear your footsteps as you traced your way down the hill.

It was easy to see the brilliantly lit gas station from a distance, but as you drew closer, you could also see the brightly lit neon sign of the diner just on the other side of the street from the convenience store. In all honesty, you'd completely forgotten that it had existed despite the fact that it was something of a local landmark, having been built before even your parents were born.

Not looking forward to either a bag of chips and a candy bar, or the well mummified remains of a hotdog the convenience store would have to offer, you make the impulse decision to keep walking and ambled through the dinner's empty parking lot up to its glass doors. Thankfully the open sign was still lit, and from the hours etched into the door, you still had another thirty minutes or so until it closed. You didn't really want to piss off whoever was closing by forcing them to rev up their fryers, but maybe they had something already prepared that would be more appetizing than the alternatives across the street.

A bell chimed as you swung open the door and felt a blast of air conditioning. As you stepped in, there seemed to be a lone employee behind the counter who straightened up as you paused on the welcome mat. She was a short otter with dark, almost blue black hair pulled into a lose bun, a few strands had broken loose and framed her boxy face, as well as revealing her soft, tiny ears. Her large, warmly amber eyes met yours, and you could see her flat nose and thin, neatly trimmed whiskers twitch as she sniffed the air. Most of her body was hidden behind the counter, but you could trace where her long sinuous neck met the white collar of her cornflower blue uniform. You didn't need to glance down at the square plastic name tag pinned just above the uniform's pocket. You'd know Amber anywhere.

Amber's family had moved in next door to yours when you were around five. Which meant that the two of you were best friends by the time you were five and a half. You'd done everything together growing up, and had visited everywhere that was within range of a ten speed bike over the years. You'd been inseparable, at least until you'd both begun high school. That was around the time that you began to pay attention to the news stories your parents watched about corrupt Wall Street bankers, their corrupt auditors, and their even more corrupt lawyers.

While most people paid attention to all the evil they'd done, and took delight in the prison sentences they garnered, you could only think of the astronomical numbers that the news reporters threw around in regards to how much money they made, and how much more they'd spent. At the time twenty dollars made you feel flush and a hundred made you feel like the richest kid in the world. What must a million, or a billion dollars feel like?

From then on your life changed. Or at least your goals did. Rather than hanging out and playing video games or going for bike rides with Amber, you began planning out your life and working towards your goals. She joined the swim team in school, you joined the future business leaders. She took AP English, you took Accounting. Over time you both had just drifted apart. Though the last few times you spoke before going off to college had been less than amiable. You couldn't remember just what it was you'd said, but you remember it had been less than pleasant. Amber had never had the same drive you had, and was content to begin working right out of high school without ever giving college a try while you were dead set on getting into the best school you could and paying for it with student loans.

You don't know why, maybe you felt threatened by someone not having the same outlook on life as you. Whatever the reason, you remember that the gist the last time you'd spoken to her had been to mock her life choices and shamelessly tell her that you didn't have time for someone who didn't thirst for success as badly as you. That you didn't need a friend who was happy with spending the rest of their life in some shitty podunk town struggling to make ends meet.

With a mind made clear by bitter disappointment, you could now objectively say that you were an asshole when you were younger. Unfortunately here you were now, the restaurant’s door swinging shut behind you, with Amber's eyes already locked on yours. Too late to run.

A tense silence stretches out between the two of you. While you were stuck between your fight and flight response, you absently notice that Amber is also frozen, a ceramic mug in one hand, a dish towel in the other. Your mind's a swirl of memories and emotions, but your mouth running on autopilot stutters out, “H-hey, Amber.” The first words you'd spoken to your best friend in over half a decade.

“Hey, Anon,” She replies, her eyes still open wide in surprise, her nose twitching even more from her short, sharp breaths. “I … I didn't know you were back in town.”

Your attempt to smile comes off as more of a nervous twitch as you intelligently say, “Heh, yeah.”

Another strained silence settles between you. All the good times, and the bad, run through your mind. Does she resent you for all the awful things you'd said back then? Should you just turn around and head home. If you did, would you ever be able to show your face outside ever again? This whole town was full of people you'd pissed off at one time or another. You'd come home knowing that you were going to have to swallow your pride and make a lot of apologies, but why did the first person you meet have to be Amber?

“So, are you going to sit down, or just stand there like an idiot all night?” Amber asks while cocking her eyebrow. She absently twirls her dish towel around the ceramic mug and sets the dry cup down behind the counter.

Your thoughts still not settled, you're not sure what you should be saying as you robotically walk over to the counter and sit down on of the cracked red vinyl and chrome bar stools bolted there. This close to her, you can faintly make out the all too familiar scent of rosewood. The first whiff of which took you back years, back to Amber's dimly lit room covered in various blacklight posters, cardboard cutouts, and generally everything you could buy from a comic store that would help cover over the drab walls of a typical suburban house. How many hours had you spent there while burning sandalwood incense because it made you feel cooler, older. How many video games did you two play, interspersed with digging through the piles of clothes and garbage, searching for enough loose change to buy a pizza?

You let the memories rush through you as you try your best to not look in Amber's eyes directly by focusing on one of the nearby laminated menus. You picked it up and clung to it like a life preserver, studying it as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

As you peruse the standard diner fare it offered and tried to calm down your pounding heart, you can hear Amber let out a soft sigh and take a few steps away. A soapy splash of water and the clanking of crockery let you know that she's gone back to cleaning up for the night. Somewhere between the eggs Benedict and the bacon cheeseburger, you realize just how silly you're being. Of course this conversation was going to be unpleasant, to say the least, but it was one you were going to have sooner or later. You might as well as stick your foot in your mouth now rather than agonizing about it.

Just as you were on the cusp of building your courage up enough to break the silence, Amber surprised you by thrusting a cup of coffee towards you. You hastily discard the menu and quickly save the cup before it can go over the edge of the counter and into your lap. Looking up, you find that Amber's poured herself a cup as well and was taking a long sip from it as she contemplated you over its rim.

“I don't think we've changed that menu in the past few years, Anon. It can't be that interesting.” She says after finally recapturing your eyes with hers.

“Yeah, no, it's not,” You defer as you snag a couple of containers of creamer and a few packets of sugar. Amber had always preferred her coffee black, and in the past had often made fun of you for having to “bitchify” yours. This time though, she remains silent as you stir the cream and sugar into the cup, until the coffee was more mud-like and less ebony.

Amber waits until after you've had your first sip of the more than adequate coffee before saying again, “I didn't know you were back in town.”

“I just got back today,” You quietly reply, finally prepared to look up and meet her golden eyes.

Amber takes another sip of coffee before swirling the cup in her hands and looking down into its murky depths. “I see. You going to be in town for long?”

You can't hold back a snort of pained, rueful laughter. “Yeah. I guess you could say that I'll be here for a while this time. Not sure how long exactly. Maybe forever.”

You lick your suddenly dry lips as you wait for her reply, but Amber simply continues to look into her coffee as she casually leans against the counter, her relaxed posture giving you the impression of a silent and non-commental “Oh?”

Tracing the wet rim of your coffee cup absently, you explain, “I ran into some … problems in the city, and I figured that coming back here was about the best thing I could do. About the only thing I could do really.”

“Problems?” Amber's eyebrows jump in surprise. “You didn't join the mob, wack a guy, and then try to get out so now a bunch of gangsters are after you, did you, Anon? I don't have to worry about my windows exploding in a hail of gunfire, do I?”

Your laugh this time was warm and genuine, though there was still a hysterical edge to it. “No. No, nothing like that. I just … well, I guess I finally became just who I wanted to be, and I found out that I couldn't stand it. So I ran away, and the only place I could think of running was back here.” You sigh deeply before composing yourself and trying your best to smile and change the subject. “So, how about you, Amber? How's life been?”

Amber tilts her head and scrunches up her lips in thought. Eventually she shrugs. “Oh, you know, same old, same old. Some of the stores down on Main Street are still the same, but most of them have gone through a few owners since you left. Do you remember Hank's Hardware? It's been a cafe, a bakery, even an ice cream parlor for a bit. Though, for some reason they opened that one in the dead of winter, and by the time spring came around it was up for sale again. The Chinese place we used to score those little doughnut things at is still open though.”

With a chuckle you ask, “You mean you've been unbanned from there?”

Amber shakes her head sadly and with great gravitas says, “Mrs. Wong has a long, long memory; but, she is benevolent. We're still both banned from delivery orders, but if I show up in person, and pay in cash, in advance, then she is all good with it.” With a smirk she adds, “Though as far as I know, you're still at the top of her shit list, so you might want to lay low for a while until you can hammer out a cease fire with the local Triad.”

Thinking back on your misspent, but happier youth, you can't help but chuckle again as you sip your steadily cooling coffee. “We paid for those windows. Eventually.”

“Yeah, but you didn't pay with your blood,” Amber replies, opening her eyes dramatically wide. “But for real, Mrs. Wong is uptight, but I'm sure with a heartfelt apology, you'll have your beef and broccoli privileges back in no time. Anyway, do you remember that old elementary school that was falling down for like twenty years? They finally tore it down. They didn’t bother building a new one though. People keep leaving town, so there’s not enough kids to justify having two schools. Oh, and a couple of new chain restaurants opened up. We’ve even got a Taco Buck now. I’m glad it wasn’t here when we were in school, otherwise I’d have gotten as fat as Mr. Etheridge.”

Now that she’s mentioned her weight, you can’t help but look her up and down. The waitress uniform wasn’t the most flattering of outfits, but it was obvious that Amber had put on some weight since high school. Not that it was a bad thing. Back in school, thanks to the swim team, Amber’s lithe form had more than once been compared to a young boys. Now though, with how well she filled out her uniform, it would be impossible to think of her as anything other than a young woman.

Not wanting her to catch you ogling her, you try to distract her by asking, “So what about you personally? Are you still living on Bridgestreet?”

“You mean, am I one of those unfortunate people who still live with their parents long past the time they should have moved out into the ‘real’ world? The answer’s yes,” Amber says hotly, putting her hands on her hips. “And why not? The location is convenient, the rent’s great, and I don’t have to worry about doing all the chores by myself all the time. What’s not to like?”

You put your hands up placatingly. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve recently joined the ranks of parental cohabitation myself. I was just wondering what huge, dramatic life changing events have happened to you since we last saw each other.”

Amber smiled and crossed her arms, taping her chin with a finger as she looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. “Well … there was that one multi-millionaire that moved in to town a couple of years ago. After a few visits to the diner he got down on his knees on that shiny patch of linoleum over there and proposed, so now we’re engaged. I don’t think I’m really in love with him though, so I’m thinking I’ll go for the divorce after kid number two so that I can get a stupidly fat check each month.”

Despite the fact that you’d asked about it, and that she was being obviously hyperbolic about her relationship, knowing that Amber had led a life that you didn’t know about, had met people you didn’t know, and could possibly be in a relationship you had no idea about, caused a strange pain in the pit of your stomach.

Studying you for a few long seconds, Amber bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, you should see your face, Anon. You look like someone just told you that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.”

Trying to steel your face, you incredulously ask, “You mean, Santa’s not real? Then who’ve I been sending all those letters to every year?”

“The fucking Tooth Fairy, man!” Amber exclaims as she slaps the counter. “Remember how I told you Christmas was just a front for her child abduction racket? You can’t trust anyone whose hobby is collecting human teeth.”

You both start to laugh, remembering such a stupid inside joke, and Amber tucks a few strands of her hair behind her ear as she sets her elbows on the counter and leans closer. “But yeah, I still live with my parents, so we’re still neighbors, no, I’m not engaged. I work such long hours here that I’m dead on my feet by the time that I get home, and the only ones who hit on me while I’m working are either scumbags or collecting Social Security. Nothing is too different for me, I guess. I mean, back in the day it was school, work, home, bed. Now it’s work, home, bed, so that’s new. Except on days I get off. Then I enjoy walking through the woods, checking out nature and shit.”

“Do you still draw?”

Amber looks away shyly. “Yeah. A little. I’m still not great at it or anything though.”

“Don’t say that,” You say earnestly. “Your drawings were always great. I still remember that one you did of that oak tree through the seasons.”

“Thanks,” Amber says softly. 

You both awkwardly look anywhere but at each other while Amber subtly straightens up. 

Wanting to move beyond the strange atmosphere, you say, “And what about everyone else? Anyone I still know in town?”

“Yeah, most of the usual suspects are still around. Did you know Freddy married Beth? They come in every Sunday after church. They’re already working on kid number three.”

“Holy shit, really? Wow, time flies, huh?”

Amber shrugs, her arms still crossed. “Well, you know, they are rabbits after all too. But pretty much all the high school sweethearts married each other. And then divorced from one another. You remember Jeffery, the guy who sat with us at lunch in middle school? He married Alison, Mrs. Kenedy’s daughter, then got a divorce and joined the Air Force. He’s in Idaho or somewhere like that now. Alison works down at the car dealership, and from what I hear lives with Lauren now.”

You can’t help raising your eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s kind of hot.”

Amber rolls her eyes with a huff and a smile. “Glad to see some things haven’t changed. But what about the rest of you? What happened to have you come and darken my doorstep on this dark and stormy night?”

Slowly, and with great exaggeration, you turn around to look out at the obviously dry and quiet night. Turning back around, thinking about how to answer her, your smile falters a bit as you wrap your hands tightly around your coffee cup, pulling the last vestiges of warmth from it.

“Well, I did exactly what I said I as going to do. I went to college, majored in business, did really well in it. Though, you know how much of a dumb ass I am, so most of the time I wasn’t in class I spent studying. It wasn’t until after I graduated that I realized instead of worrying about passing my classes, I should have been out going to parties and kissing ass. Networking, as they say.
	“I didn’t make the right connections in school, so I didn’t end up in any of the companies I wanted to. At least right away. I did manage to land a job at a smaller firm though. They paid just enough to rent a corner of a closet on the twentieth floor of an apartment building with no elevator. No air conditioning either. But it was all right. I enjoyed it actually, because I was right there, you know, in the middle of the city, living the city life; chapter one of my own personal rags to riches story.
	“The company I worked for scalped most of our commissions, but I did so well I was able to live paycheck to paycheck, which was better than a lot of the others could say. That place had a crazy high turnover rate. I did so well that some of my former classmates noticed and they headhunted me for the second largest firm in the city.”

You pause to drain the dregs of your now cold coffee, your throat suddenly dry.

“I thought that I’d finally made it. That with just a little more effort, I’d find myself sitting in the boardroom on the top floor making decisions that would send shockwaves throughout the world. So, I started working even harder. Twelve, fourteen, sixteen hour days. I cut everything out of my life that wasn’t work related. I became my job. I vowed that no one would beat me to a sale, no one would put in more hours, more work, more effort to close a deal than I did. I’d jump at the slightest of rumors, I’d pay for the smallest of tip-offs. When they worked out, I was showered in praise by my bosses. When they didn’t … well, I learned how to pawn trash fires off on those who weren’t working as hard as I was. That’s how I saw it at least.
	“As time went on, I learned how to make myself look good no matter whether a deal was made or fell through, and the higher ups in the company noticed. I found out that the secret to promotion was to find someone else passing up through the ranks, setting up their own empire, and latching onto them, becoming indispensable. Then, just before they get knocked down by someone with even more power, making sure that you’ve attached yourself to someone else even higher up.” You laugh ruefully at the memory. “After a while, I started calling myself Iago in my mind unironically.”

Amber, who’d remained silent during your confessional, her slight frown neither condemning nor condoning you, quirked an eyebrow and asked, “What, the bird from Aladdin?”

Your train of thought broken, you reflexively reply, “No, from Othello. You know, Shakespeare?”

With a shrug, Amber says, “Oh, I had Mrs. Johnson for English, so we did Romeo and Juliet instead.” 

Noticing your empty cup, Amber steps away to retrieve a pot of coffee from the nearby burners as you comment, “I never liked that one.”

“Yeah, it was kind of a gyp the way Mercutio dies.” Amber says as she pours you a fresh, steaming cup of coffee before pouring herself a mug as well. “When that happened, I was like, ‘whelp, play’s over for me now. I see that there’s more pages, but without the best character, they’re not worth reading.’”

“There was that too,” You pour some cream and sugar into your coffee to make it palatable. “Mercutio was definitely the best character, but mostly I just didn’t like how that play is supposed to be the ultimate romance story, when really it’s about a horny teenager on the rebound who is trying to get into the pants of a pre-teen girl going through her first crush. Their story wasn’t tragic, it was just stupid.”

Amber rested her head on her hand, leaning over the counter again. “Aw, are you saying you wouldn’t die for your true love?” She asked while exaggeratedly batting her eyes. 

With a roll of your eyes, you answer, “Not necessarily. I’m just saying that if they’d lived for another month or two, they would probably have started seeing other people.”

Amber’s eyes widen in excitement and she slaps the counter. “Oh shit, Mercutio and Juliet.”

You nod as you pick up your coffee to sip, commenting, “Now we’re talking.”

“Fucking one true pair material right there.”

“Anyway,” You say putting your cup down. “In Othello, Iago is a character who appears to be fiercely loyal to the main character, Othello. But, the whole play, in reality he was doing his best to bring about his downfall. That’s how I felt at work everyday. Slowly I realized just who and what I was. I was living in a much nicer apartment, but not as nice as my boss’. I was driving a much nicer car, but again, not as nice as my boss’. Everything I had was better, but none of it was good enough. It felt like I was running up a downward escalator. I had more money, but I was working harder and harder, paying more and more for less return. 
	“The closer I got to the board rooms on the top floor, the more I could see that they were full of parasites just like me, desperately fighting each other to climb higher while pushing down everyone below them who were clawing up to their level. Sure they were making obscene amounts of money, but if felt like they were even less secure than I’d been when I’d just started. As if a single bad day, unhappy client, or bad meeting, could destroy their lives. 
	“I took a look around and realized, no one I knew was truly happy. Not even the owners of the company. The closest thing that anyone seemed to have to happiness was the joy from beating down other people. Whether it was who made the most commissions, who brought in the most clients, who had the better office, who had a larger budget, whatever you could think of, these guys would treat it like a competition where there was only one winner.
	“Now, I’m not the most … introspective person -”

Amber widened her eyes and in a flat voice said, “Really? You? Not all that introspective? Not completely blind to all your faults? Noooo … I don’t believe it.”

You roll your eyes. “I suppose I deserve that. Anyway, a few weeks ago, things just kind of solidified for me. I was working for months on this one account, eighty hour workweeks without a day off. But, right at the last minute, one of the guys I’d consider my best friends from college, the guy who originally got me the job, stabbed me in the back and took all the credit for my work and scored a promotion.

“Wow, what a douchebag,” Amber said nonplussed. “I bet you were super pissed.”

“Right? That’s what you’d think, and I was angry. But mostly I was impressed at how easily he pulled it off, and I realized that if I’d been in his shoes, I’d have done the same thing. That was the point when I realized that I shouldn’t only be afraid of the monster I was becoming, but of what I’d already turned into. I figured that I had two options, stay and embrace that life, all the politics, the back stabbing, the constant competition to get one over on the people who should be your friends, or throw everything I’d worked for away and run somewhere safe before I became even more corrupted.”

Amber let out a soft “hmm,” before commenting, “So, you came back here because it was the only place you could afford after blowing all your cash on one too many cocaine and hooker office parties.”

You smile ruefully. “Actually, I squandered all my ill gotten wealth on starting a rival company, but one with blackjack and hookers. Little did I know that gambling, outside the stock market, was illegal in that county.”

“So, out of all the pancake joints in all the world, you walk into mine,” Amber says as she stands back up straight. 

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did,” You say as you look down at your hands on the counter, so you don’t have to look Amber in the face. “While I wasn’t expecting to find you here, I’m glad that I did. This was the first time I was able to say all of that, and I feel better for it.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, taking the opportunity to study the worn jukebox over in the corner as your mouth runs on without you consciously thinking about it. “Listen, Amber, I know I was a jerk back in the day. Heck, I’m still a jerk now, just less of one, hopefully. I know that I hurt you back then, and I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I was wrong.” You feel a lump welling up in your throat as your finally turn to look at the otter in question. “I hope … I hope that you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t.”

Amber studies you for several long seconds, her flashing eyes the only feature of her otherwise stoic face betraying her emotions. Eventually though, she sighs and says, “Well, you were definitely a mega-douche before you left town, and a pretty fucking shitty friend for a while there. But, like we promised each other in the sixth grade, until we come to bad ends, we’ll still be freakin friends. Even if I did hate your guts for a couple of years.”

You can’t control your hopeful smile. “So, is this the start of a beautiful friendship?”

With a cute smile and a loving twinkle in her eyes, Amber taps her coffee mug against yours and says, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

The heartwarming moment was interrupted by a loud rumble and whining gurgle coming from your stomach. Both you and Amber looked down at your stomach in surprise. With a giggle, Amber says, “I guess the beast should be fed. She turns and contemplates the darkened kitchen for a few moments, before turning around again and taking a few steps to bend down in order to reach the glass display case holding the remains of a few pies, cakes, and pastries. “I hope you don’t mind a slice of pie, Anon. Our chef, Frankie, already cleaned up and left for the night. Until you showed up, things were a bit slow.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine. I’m happy with anything really.”

Amber smiles as she sets a plate down in front of you bearing a generous slice of apple pie and a wedge of what looks like cheddar cheese. “Good, because while I’m not exactly a slouch in the cooking department, I’m a much better baker. And, I don’t really want to mess up Frankie’s kitchen while he’s not here.”

“That much of a stickler?” You ask as you accept the fork Amber offers you.

Amber shrugs. “Not really. It just feels … I don’t know, disrespectful. I mean, Frankie’s been here forever. I think he just started cooking one day, and they built the diner around him. Messing around in the kitchen without his permission is like going into your neighbor’s house and rearranging the furniture without permission.”

“I don’t think that’s ever stopped you when you came over to my house and rearranged the furniture.” You take a bite of pie and your hit with a wave of nutmeg and cinnamon nostalgia. “You made this?” You ask, pointing to the pie with your fork.

“Just this morning,” Amber cheerfully replies.

“It tastes just like my mom’s.”

Amber leans over the counter once again, with a huge grin on her face. “Well, it should. That’s who I got the recipe from. Growing up, your mom always made the best pies. Well, except for pumpkin. No one can beat my dad at pumpkin pie.”

You continue to eat, savoring each bite. “You did a great job, it’s really good.”

“Thanks, I always knew you’d love my pie once you got a taste of it,” Amber says with a cheesy grin. 

Abruptly you realize just how close your faces are when as your looking down at the pie, in the periphery of your vision, you can see Amber’s whiskers involuntarily twitching, causing you to look up and meet her large, amber eyes. Underneath her fine facial hair, you could sear you could see the beginnings of a blush.

Hurriedly Amber pushed herself away from the counter. “W-well, it would probably feel weird if I just stood here and watched you eat, and I need to finish cleaning up before closing, so ...” She trails off and makes a hasty retreat into the depths of the kitchen. She then makes a quick, awkward return with the remnants of the last pot of coffee. She tops your cup off before disappearing once again. Soon you hear water running accompanied by the soft clanking of wet dishes. They provide a comfortable background noise as you finish off your slice of pie, your thoughts much calmer than when you’d walked in through the door.

Amber leaves you alone long enough for you to finish the pie, reach the dregs of your coffee, and for your mood to begin to sour again as your thoughts return to their now well worn paths of where exactly you went wrong, and what you were going to do to move on. No truly viable prospects had occurred to you by the time the water in the back had stopped and Amber reappeared with a dish cloth she was using to dry her hands. “Done with that?” She asks, pointing one of her short, painted claws at your plate.

You contemplate the plate for a few moments. “Well, I haven’t quite finished licking it clean, but I guess I can give it up.”

“If you liked my cold pie that much, you should try it when it’s warm,” Amber says with a wink, noticeably less embarrassed over the innuendo this time.

“Sounds wonderful. I’d love to try your pie anytime,” You say, waggling your eyes exaggeratedly. Amber laughs and rolls her eyes as she collects your plate and coffee cup. “So, how much do I owe you?” You ask as you reach for your wallet.

“Well, for friends and family we offer a discount. So for you, it’ll just be a modest triple markup.”

You cough out a chuckle. “Triple?”

With a dead serious face, Amber replies, “Yeah. The douchebag markup is usually times ten, but with the sincere apology discount, that knocks it down to twice the price. But, since I know you, I decided to jack it up.”

“So, triple huh? I guess three times ten cents comes out to thirty. Hang on and let me see if I have any quarters.”

Amber lets out a bark of laughter. “More like ten bucks, son. But, taking into consideration that you’re now a jobless hobo, I guess I can knock it down to three.”

“Hey, I’m not a hobo,” You protest. “I’m living with my parents, so I’m just a NEET.”

Amber smirks and rolls her eyes as she takes your dishes into the back of the restaurant. You open your wallet and pull out a twenty, dropping it on the counter before standing up. You’re almost at the door before Amber reappears and in an odd tone asks, “Where are you going?”

You turn around surprised. “I thought I’d get out of your hair so that you could close up.”

With a huff of exasperation, Amber says, “Geeze, give me a minute you big doof and I’ll walk home with you.”

Surprised at her suggestion, you simply nod and say, “Sure,” before sitting back down.

With another huff, Amber bustles around the restaurant, quickly giving things a wipe, turning lights off, and closing out the cash register. While doing so, she tries to hand you your change, but you just push her cash filled hand back towards here. With a glare, she pushes it back at you. For a few seconds there is a silent tug of war before Amber rolls her eyes and deposits the money with the rest of the cash for the night. In no time at all the diner was squared away and Amber appeared on your side of the counter, a light jacket thrown over her uniform. “You ready to go?”

“Sure.”

After locking the diner’s doors, you and Amber step out into the warm night. Not much had changed since you’d started your stroll in search of sustenance earlier, but at the same time, everything was different, thanks to the petite woman walking next to you. Looking down at the crown of her head, you remember a time when Amber had been taller than you, and occasionally, quite literally, lorded that fact over your head when you’d fight over important topics, such as pizza toppings. Now though, she barely reached past your shoulders, though admittedly she was wearing flats. The jacket she was wearing stopped short just above where her tail emerged from her skirt. No longer hidden by the counter, you could see that her skirt reached just past her knees while her tail narrowed to a point near her calves. 

You both walked in companionable silence for a few minutes until you reached the slight hill that led up to the street which turned into your subdivision. “So, a waitress,” you finally say musingly. “Not exactly what I would have pegged you for when we were growing up.”

“Oh, and what did you imagine me as?” Amber asks guardedly.

You look up toward the moon and stroke your chin in pretend contemplation. “I was thinking you’d probably become a career criminal, committing petty misdemeanors until the law caught up with you. Once you got thrown into the clink, you’d toughen up fast and become the hardest chick in the yard, leading the baddest gang in the joint.”

Amber chuckles. “Well, I was holding onto that one as career option number two. Mr. Johnson gave me all sorts of pointers on how to make improvised shivs in shop class. But things just didn’t pan out, I guess. Back in high school, one summer, I was looking for a job to make some spending money, and by pure happenstance I saw a help wanted ad for the diner. So, I applied and found out that waitressing is harder than it looks, but it’s more fun that it looks too. So, for the rest of high school, I did it as a part time job, and then after school, I guess it became a full time job.”

“So, you like working there then?”

Amber shrugs and replies, “Well, I wont say that everyday is an absolute joy. I’ve had to deal with plenty of assholes, and you’ve never seen the truest definition of a shit show until you’ve had to clean a public restroom, but there are days when everything goes right too. Days when you get nothing but your favorite customers who like to hang out and chat, and the day flies by.” she falls silent for a few seconds. “Yeah. All in all, I’d say that I like it.”

“Huh.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “Well, that’s good. It sounds nice. Other than that whole shit show thing, but the rest, it sounds … nice.”

You lurch slightly as Amber gives you a hip bump and you look down to find her looking up at you with a crooked grin. “Nice, huh? So it’s not ‘a complete waste of my time, my resources, and my life?’”

Ruefully you shake your head. “No, not at all. Did I really say that?”

“Amongst other things, yeah.”

“God I was such an ass.”

Amber barks out a laugh. “Yeah you were. But it looks like maybe you spent so much time being an asshole, you were able to finally pull your head out of it. Took you long enough.” She jabs an elbow into your ribs.

With a shrug you reply, “I guess I just needed to have a shit storm of my own. A spiritual shit storm to clear things out, if you will.”

You both laugh for a bit, before lapsing into another comfortable silence, which lasts all the way until you turn down the street your houses are on.

“So, Anon, now that you’ve realized just what a colossal idiot you were, and have come all the way back home, what are you going to do now?”

Flippantly you reply, “Disney Land?” But suffering another elbow jab from Amber, you sigh and clench your hands in your pockets as you look up into the night sky for your answer. “I’ve been thinking about that since before I handed in my resignation. ‘What am I going to do next? How am I going to make money? Where will I live? Is there a job out there that I can do that won’t turn me into an amoral monster?’ To tell you the truth, I still haven’t come up with answers to any of those questions. But right now, mostly I’m just kind of fed up with chasing my own tail. So tomorrow, I’ll sit down and figure all this shit out. But tonight, I’m going home and try my best to forget that the past few years ever happened. I’m going to sneak some of my parents’ wine coolers, start a horror movie marathon, and watch some crappy actors get violently murdered in my living room until I pass out on the couch.”

Amber looks at you askance for a few seconds before breaking out into laughter. “Just like old times, huh?”

You smile fondly in remembrance as you answer, “Yeah, just like old times.” Suddenly you feel a bit nervous and you kick a pebble away as you decide to test out the boundaries of your newly rebuild friendship. “A-and you know, like old times, if you want to maybe come over and watch movies with me, that’d be cool.”

Amber stops walking, and you stop with her. She worries her lower lip with her sharp teeth, and you hope she doesn’t draw blood. “I don’t know, Anon … I’m supposed to be on the opening crew tomorrow.”

Hurriedly you say, “Oh no, that’s cool. No pressure at all. I just, you know, wanted you to know that you were welcome over, like it used to be. But if you have to work, it’s fine - “

“No, no, it’s cool,” Amber quickly interrupts you, her face lighting up and her tone growing ever more energetic. “It’s totally cool. I’ll just juggle a few shifts around and text the others tonight so I can take tomorrow off, and we can hang out tonight and do all the stupid shit we used to do.”

Feeling guilty, you say, “It’s not really that big of a deal.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amber reiterates, putting a hand on your chest to interrupt your objection. “I needed to take some time off anyway, and this is totally a huge deal. My best freakin’ friend in the world finally breaks free from his brainwashing and comes back to me. It’s like I’m the sexy female Captain America, and you’re the shorter, rounder, not quite as handsome Bucky. We totally have to do a movie night tonight. To honor all the movie nights of yesteryear, and to ring in all the movie nights we’ll have from here on. It’s going to be totally awesome!”

“Well, if you’re sure,” You say, awkwardly rubbing the back of your head.

“Super sure,” Amber cheerfully replies along with a light punch to your arm.  “It’s going to be fun. Just you and me and Freddy, and maybe Jason. Just give me a few minutes to go home and change and let the morning crew know the bad news.”

“Hopefully they won’t be too upset.”

“Well, screwing around with peoples’ schedules is the prerogative of owners everywhere.”

You cock your eyebrow and look down at her askance. “Owner?”

Amber cheerfully smiles. “Oh, didn’t I mention that? Apparently if you hang around someplace long enough, they make you owner. Well, actually three quarter owner. The previous owner was who hired me, and she is the daughter of the couple that opened the diner. A few years ago she decided she wanted to retire, so she sold the restaurant to me and Frankie.”

“Wow,” is all you can think to say, honestly completely stunned. It was one thing to see her doing well, enjoying her job, but then to find out that she owned her own business left you both amazed and honestly a bit jealous.

Oblivious to your mental reboot, Amber turns and practically skips toward her house. She gives you a wave over her shoulder and says, “I’ll be back in a few.”

You simply watch as she disappears through her front door, before dully turning away and making your way to your own darkened house. Your not exactly sure how you feel about Amber’s success. Happy, of course, but there are other feelings mixed in with the happiness that you really don’t want to unpack now. Instead, you need to focus on not blowing your reunion movie night.

Having company over had been the last thing on your mind when you’d left the house earlier. Thankfully though, your parents had thoroughly cleaned every room before they’d left on their vacation, and you hadn’t been home long enough to make too much of a mess. Nonetheless, you quickly race through the house, flipping on lights, making sure nothing is out of place. Noticing that there was an insufficient amount of pillows and blankets in the living room, you pull some from the linen closet and haphazardly throw them on the couch.

Satisfied with a job well done, you turn your thoughts toward refreshments. While there wasn’t much in the way of real food in the house, you had noticed a box of microwavable popcorn when you were digging through the pantry earlier. Thanks to the power of the nuclearizor, you quickly pop the entire box, pouring each greasy bag into a large wooden bowl. Just as you finish shaking out the last of the almost burnt kernels, you hear the doorbell chime.

Carrying the popcorn bowl with you, you answer the door to find Amber standing there, looking up at you with a hesitant, shy smile. In the dim porch light, you notice that not only has she changed into a loose tee-shirt and low-waisted blue jeans, but she’s also redone her hair into a loose ponytail, and it appears to still be slightly damp from the shower.

“Hey, Anon, I figured that since we’re legal, we can drink what we want, rather than having to steal your mom’s wine coolers.” She holds up a six pack of beer with a single finger.

Stunned by how much a simple change of clothes could change someone’s appearance from cute waitress to even cuter girl next door, and by the fact that thanks to the loose collar of the shirt, you can see the edge of a black bra strap, it takes you a moment to intelligently reply, “Uh, yeah. Cool. I’ve got popcorn. Want to come in?”

Amber quirks an eyebrow and lets out a chuckle. “Well, I was on the fence, but with an offer like popcorn, how could I refuse?” She brushes past you, leaving behind the scent of rosewood and something more earthy. “Is that your car outside?” She asks over her shoulder as you follow her into the kitchen and watch as she pulls two beers from the pack before placing the rest in the fridge, as comfortable in your house as she is in her own.

Trying to regain your calm demeanor, you quip, “Well, mine and the bank’s. We take turns driving, but I pay for the gas.” 

You go to retrieve a bottle opener from the junk drawer, but after a few moments of fumbling around, Amber reaches over and opens the next drawer over and quickly pulls one out. She pops the tops of the bottles as she says, “It’s cute. Although my mom saw it sitting in the driveway when she got off work and thought that some yuppie thief was breaking into your place and stealing your shit.” She pauses to sample her beer, grimacing slightly. “Lucky for you, she was waiting to catch the nefarious thief in the act before calling the cops. She got real excited when I told her it was probably yours and that you were back in town. Long story short, you’re invited to dinner tomorrow night.”

You accept the other bottle from Amber and take a sip. The bitterness from the hops was a bit strong. “Sweet, that will give me ample time to steal more shit and pack it in my yuppie-mobile. Should I bring anything over?”

With a shrug, Amber says, “Nah, you know my mom. Ready and willing to feed the malnourished youth of the neighborhood.” She points her bottle at you. “But, be prepared to answer her million and one questions. There’s no such thing as a free dinner, and my mom demands payment in gossip.”

“Don’t worry,” You say with a smirk. “I’ll be sure to have my story straight by tomorrow. They’ll never find the bodies, and soon this whole thing will blow over.”

“Good, because if things go south, I’m going to roll on you faster than a mustang down a mountain. More importantly though, have you picked out a movie yet?”

“Not yet.” You head toward the living room with Amber following close behind. “I’m not sure if we want to go with some of the classics,” you wave toward the shelves full of blu-rays, DVDs, and even VHS tapes, as you plunk the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. “Or, we could just log into a streaming provider du choice and try our luck online.”

“I vote streaming,” Amber says as she falls onto the couch and takes another swig of beer. “I’m in the mood for something low budget with cheesy lines, cheap props, and crap acting.”

“A woman of refined taste I see.” You turn on the screen and log into the first streaming platform you come across. As you maneuver around the coffee table and land heavily on your side of the couch, you toss Amber the remote and she quickly navigates down to the horror section.

“You should be thankful for my refined taste,” Amber says as she flips through movies. “It’s about ninety percent the reason why I still hang out with you.”

“What’s the other ten percent?” You ask as you shove around the abundance of pillows and blankets to make things more comfortable for yourself.

“The fact that you have a working Gamecube and a copy of smash. And, you don’t make me use the Madcatz controller when we play.”

“I forgot all about that,” you say musingly as nostalgic memories of weekends spent on the couch come back to you. “Shit. For that, I should have best friend cred for all eternity.”

“Yeah, just so long as you don’t transform into a materialistic, narcissistic prick again,” Amber says as she reaches over and gives your head a push.

Chagrined, you don’t say anything as you reach over and shove some popcorn in your mouth and wash it down with bitter beer while Amber continues flicking through the seemingly endless titles available. Eventually she settles on what appears to be a typical haunted house found footage  movie. As the title credits begin to play, Amber uses the remote to turn off the lights. She then picks up the mound of blankets sitting on the couch between you two and cuddles into them, slightly closing the gap between you.

It isn’t long until you both begin to riff on the terribleness of the movie. An early appearance of the antagonist, showing him to be a Jason knock off with literally a dollar store mask had both of you laughing, causing Amber to nearly choke on a popcorn kernel. You’re reminded of the old days, back before your life went to shit. Although, you notice that both you and Amber’s jokes have tended more toward innuendo than they used to. But, you figure that’s probably due to the fact that you’re both grown up, so your sense of humor is slightly less vulgar and more sexual. Or something like that. Critical thinking is quickly not becoming your strong point after Amber proposes a drinking game for every time they name drop the title of the movie in the dialogue. 

All too soon your beer is empty and after giving the bottle a final plaintive shake to see if there is any residuals left, you lift yourself up. “Need another one?” you ask, shaking the bottle again.

“Sure,” Amber replies, downing the last of her beer before handing you the empty bottle. “Want me to pause it for you?”

“Nah. I don’t think I’ll miss too much.” So saying, you return to the kitchen and toss out the empty bottles before grabbing a new pair from the fridge and de-capping them. On your return to the living room, you find that Amber’s shifted on the couch, moving even closer to your customary side, with the half-full bowl of popcorn on her lap. “Comfy?” You ask as you hand her a beer.

“Now that I can reach the popcorn without stretching, yes,” Amber primly replies.

You slid into your usual spot, mentally shrugging at just how close Amber has gotten. On screen, it looks like one of the teenagers who was alive before you left is now dead, and one of the ones you thought was dead is now alive, maybe? To be honest, you’re not too sure what’s going on, and the movie isn’t great enough to try and reinvest yourself in the plot. Especially when after a couple of minutes, you find Amber has wormed so close to you that you have to rest your arm on the back of the couch for comfort. She’s so close that you can feel her body heat. You’d almost forgotten just how warm another person is. 

Soon enough, the movie ends, and as the credits roll and the next movie queues up, Amber untangles herself from the blankets and asks, “Another beer?”

Seeing that you only had about a quarter of the bottle left, you shrug and say, “Sure,” before downing the rest. 

Amber disappears into the darkness toward the kitchen and you help yourself to the rapidly depleting popcorn bowl. While you enjoy crunching on a handful of semi-popped kernels, you relax back into your corner of the couch, appreciating the spooky music of the next movie’s title cards as the alcohol begins to wash over you. Absently you notice Amber returning, but you’re too relaxed to tear your attention from the screen.

That changes when Amber solidly plops herself on the couch, this time so close, it feels as if she’s half sitting on you, and your arm reflexively jumps off the back of the couch and lands on her shoulder. This close, overwhelming the smell of greasy popcorn and hopy beer, was a rosewood scent mixed with something that screamed AMBER. You hadn’t experienced something like this since the fourth grade, when during a routine tussle, Amber had shoved your head into a hamper and you’d gotten a face full of sweaty socks. Your current reaction couldn’t be anymore different from then. Now you can feel your pants getting alarmingly tight, and you hope that Amber both can’t and can feel your burgeoning erection. You don’t want her to freak out and renounce your nascently rekindled relationship, but at the same time, it had been a long while since your last girlfriend, and Amber is a very attractive woman …

Seemingly unaware of your internal dilemma, Amber says, “Here,” and presses another beer into the hand that’s currently near her shoulder.

“Thanks.” You pass it to your other hand and move to pull your arm away from her, in case you’re inadvertently crossing any boundaries, but your escape is thwarted when Amber tosses a blanket over her shoulders, effectively trapping your arm against her. Not exactly sure where the least awkward place to touch her is, you settle for resting your hand on her side, just above her hip, marveling at just how soft and warm she feels. All the while, Amber acts unconcerned and simply leans into you as she searches through the popcorn bowl for a few kernels more.

You have no idea what move is playing, or even if there even is one on. All you can think about is Amber’s scent invading your senses, her soft, hot body pressed against yours, and your painfully tight pants. Placing your beer down on the coffee table, you use your free hand to surreptitiously adjust your erection to make it slightly less uncomfortable. Amber’s probably engrossed in the movie, so she doesn’t notice, right?

With your mind occupied by your head, you’re thankful that Amber hasn’t begun to rag on the movie yet. There is no way you’d be able to keep up your side of the banter. But, just as you’re giving thanks, amidst the screams of terrified teenagers, Amber speaks up. “You know, back in high school, I dated Bobby Welton.” Nonplussed by the nonsequitur, you stay silent as Amber continues in a halting, almost disjointed manner. “He was a great guy. Really nice, and really down to earth.”

You search through your memories and latch upon a vague, brown haired figure. “Oh yeah, Bobby. He was on a sports team, right?”

“Baseball,” Amber says, her body resting on you, but her eyes locked on the television. “He played second base. I’d go to baseball games with him in his truck. It used to be his granddad’s. He always knew what he wanted in life. A house, a wife, kids, a picket fence, the whole thing. He was kind, polite, caring, courteous, and content with what he had.”

Not sure where she was going with this, you lamely comment, “Sounds like a great guy.”

“He really was, and I tried so hard to be a good girlfriend when we were going out because he was such a great guy, and I liked him. But, whenever I was with him, I couldn’t help comparing him with you. I mean we’d be sitting and watching the TV or something and a show would come on, or something stupid would happen, and I’d make a joke about it, but he wouldn’t joke back. He’d just awkwardly smile and try his best, but he never got me. He never understood me, connected with me, the way that you do. No one ever has.” With a gentle sigh, Amber turns slightly in your embrace and wraps her arm around your waist as she lays her head against your chest. Hopefully she can’t hear just how fast your heart is hammering. “I guess what I’m trying to say, Anon, is, well, I missed you. I missed us.”

You’re not one hundred percent sure what’s going on in your head in this moment due to all the emotions rolling through you. Guilt, regret, arousal, nostalgia, fondness, and even love, all are fighting for dominance within you. The alcohol isn’t helping either. Your head is a mess and your body feels wound up like a spring. Acting on instinct, you reach up and run a hand through her soft hair, futilely trying to tuck it behind her tiny ear.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again, your apology feeling inadequate for the amount of pain you’ve caused not only to Amber, but yourself as well. “I don’t know how else I can say it, but I’m sorry, truly sorry, Amber. I was a jerk and -”

Amber lifts her small hand and places a single, squishy finger on your lips. She looks up at you, her large eyes shining in the dim light of the television. “It’s all right, Anon. Just … just promise me that you’ll stay this time. That we’ll see each other tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and that we can have nights like this for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to be alone again.”

Seeing her in such a vulnerable state, a throbbing heat wells up in your chest and you feel like you’re on the verge of tears. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply lean down and slowly, softly, and kind of awkwardly, give Amber a kiss.

It’s by no means the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had. It’s short and chaste, but warmer and more loving that any you can remember. Amber’s slightly parted lips are thinner than the human girls’ you’d dated, but fuller than Shirley’s, the doberman who’d dumped you four months ago. They’re neither too full, nor too thin, not too hard, nor too soft. In other words, they feel just perfect. You want to immediately taste her again, to find out just how perfect they are, but you pull back questioningly instead. What if you’ve totally misread the situation and had just made things super weird?

You gaze into Amber’s glistening eyes, searching for her reaction, as she does the same for you. It’s a bit unfair since her face is in shadow while yours is illuminated by the flickering television, but that quickly becomes a moot point when Amber reaches up and pulls you into another kiss.

This one isn’t nearly as chaste. It was hungrier, more desperate, for both of you. Your lips feel bruised by how hard she’s pressing against you, but you don’t care as you desperately push back against her even harder. Without noticing how or when, you find that her tongue has invaded your mouth and is eagerly exploring every nook and cavity. You in turn trace her small, sharp teeth with your tongue as you try to ignore the ticklish sensations of her whiskers against your cheeks.

Unsure of how long it lasts, you have to eventually pull back in order to get some air. As you do, Amber playfully tugs at your lower lip with her teeth and grins up at you with half-lidded eyes from her new position, laying across your lap, her weight supported by both your arms. One of you hands has slipped under her loose shirt and is indirect contact with her back. You marvel at just how soft her fur feels under your fingers. Looking down on her, seeing someone regarding you with pure trust and desire, makes some unknown muscle inside your chest unclench and relax for the first time in your life. With unbidden tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you bend down to capture Amber’s lips with your own once more and try to somehow show her exactly how she was making you feel.

Things become hazy for a bit as you focus on kissing her. Sometimes on the neck, where it meets her jaw. Sometimes on her cheek, really anywhere you can reach, but mostly on her moist, hungry lips. Somewhere along the way your earlobe begins to sting from one of her love bites, and you’ve lost your shirt behind the couch, along with Amber’s.

You come back to yourself flushed and drunk, both on alcohol and on Amber, but mostly Amber. Her scent, her taste, her weight in your arms, you can’t get enough of it, of her. Amber has moved to sit astride your lap, her black lacy bra and her soft breasts pressing into your bare chest as she runs her hands through your hair. You both stare into each other’s eyes and she breathily says, with a knowing smirk, “Maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more … comfortable.” You almost growl as she punctuates her words with a roll of her hips, painfully grinding against your imprisoned erection.

“Yeah,” you agree through clenched teeth, not wanting to let her go, but reluctantly releasing her to allow both of you to stand up.

Ironically, standing up and giving each other more space allows you to better appreciate a shirtless Amber. Her clearly defined collar bones lead your gaze down into the valley of her breasts, tauntingly both revealed and hidden by her partially transparent black lace bra. Her stomach was no longer taunt, as it had been years ago, but she was by no means pudgy. Just … softer than she had been when you’d both been teenagers. That said, her pert navel looks delectable, and it’s flanked by two creases which lead down into her low waisted jeans, promising even greater treasures beyond.

You desperately want to touch her, to sink into her and experience her like you’ve never really experienced anyone before. But, with a laugh, Amber slips through your fingers and races out of the room. Watching her tail disappear through the doorway, you give chase and follow closely upon her heels as she runs up the stairs, laughing gaily all the while. 

At the top of the stairs, she turns and crashes through the door of your childhood bedroom with a loud bang. She opens the door with such force that it bounces off the other wall and partially closes back on you again. You fly through it and find Amber standing at the foot of your bed, smiling up at you mischievously, her hands behind her back, which thrusts her chest out in interesting ways.

You hadn’t thought your heart could get any softer, or your dick any harder, but the way her mouth delightfully twists up while her eyes demurely drink you in, makes you want to leap across the room and take her in your arms and just hold on to her for the rest of your life. But, before you can, she reaches up higher on her back and you can see her bra loosen as she unclasps it. You manage to maintain eye contact with her as she slips the straps off her shoulders and gravity takes its course. For a few microseconds longer at least.

It would be impossible for anyone in your position to help but look down at her perky, perfect breasts. So you acquiesce to nature and gratefully take in her beautiful chest. While most of her fur is a dark, almost umber brown, her chest, navel, and areas further south were lighter, almost tan in shade, the hairs finer, softer in appearance. Her nipples are a darker shade of brown and are delightfully crinkled. Her breasts as a whole haven’t lost their youthful vigor, easily a C-cup, they were still firm yet invitingly soft. You can feel yourself start to salivate while at the same time your throat starts to feel dry.

“Well, are you going to just stand there all night?” Amber asks, blushing brightly as she crosses one arm to hold the opposite elbow out of embarrassment, inadvertently creating a shelf for her bust which makes it that much more inviting. 

“Sorry, I was just, uh, I was ...” higher mental functions such as speech are quickly leaving you, so you surrender to your instincts and lurch across the room toward her. Your hands are drawn to Amber’s breasts as if they’re magnets, and as your palms sink into her warm, soft, oh so soft chest, with her rough nipples pressing into you, she inhales loudly before letting out a shaky exhale. As if the power to her legs has been cut, Amber slowly falls backward onto your bed, and you follow along for the ride, unwilling, or unable to loose the feeling of her breasts in your hands. One very remote corner of your mind is thankful that your parents had swapped out your Star Wars sheets for something much more conservative. But, the vast majority of your mental faculties are dedicated to the soft, elastic feeling under your fingers and the warm hardness pressing into your palm.

Her breasts feel like giant, firm, warm marshmallows, and you can’t help giving them a gentle squeeze, enjoying the tactile feel of her soft fur against your fingers as you lean down and begin planting kisses on her collar bone, delighting in the earthy sent of rosewood, trailing them up to her jaw as she lets out a pleased moan.  Leaning over her, legs intermingled with hers as they hang of the bed, you start to knead her breasts, delighting in the feel of her soft fur, running your fingers over her stiff nipples, reveling in the sounds she makes as you lightly trap them between two fingers and softly tug on them. 

Amber’s eyes are screwed shut as she gasps and mewls at your touch. Wanting to see her, feel her, touch her, heal her, even more, you lift your head up and initiate another kiss. You probe her wet, soft lips with your tongue, and she eagerly opens her mouth, gasping into yours as you simultaneously flick both her nipples with your thumbnails. This kiss is sloppier than the others you’ve shared, both of you too busy focusing on the other sensations wracking your bodies to concentrate. Soon it devolves into almost animalistic grunts and growls from both of you as you trace each others lips with your teeth. Eventually though, Amber has enough.

With strength that belies her small stature, Amber pushes you away and growls out, “Enough! Pants, off, now!”

Being your mother’s son, you instinctively leap into action whenever a woman is so emotional that she’s no longer able to make coherent sentences. In a flash, you jump off the bed and your pants and underwear are on the floor so fast, your bobbing dick hurts from the whiplash. 

Amber, still laying on the bed, props herself up on her elbows and watches the show. She’s breathing heavily, causing her chest to move in very distracting directions as she gazes at you with hungry, almost feral eyes. She’s no longer smiling, but looks deathly serious as she examines you narrowly from top to toe, her eyes coming back to rest on the most prominent part of your anatomy. Without breaking eye contact with your cock, she reaches down and begins to fumble with the button fastening her jeans.

The scream of her zipper is your call to action as she practically rips her pants apart. You kneel down and pull on the legs of her jeans as she impatiently shoves them down and bounces on the bed in order to get them out from under her hips. Her bunched, black underwear come along with her jeans and you can see a thin, translucent strand stretch between them and her fuzzy crotch as you pull her pants past her ankles and leave them crumpled on the floor. At this point, you can’t help but pause and admire the beautiful otter in front of you. The last time you’d seen Amber so bare had been when you both were seven and had been comparing things to see just how different you two were. 

Needless to say, much had changed over the years. What had once been a nearly featurelessly flat plane broken only by a narrow divot, had blossomed into a luscious, yet tamed jungle. Amber’s hair down there was different from anywhere else on her body. Darker than the fur on her chest and stomach, but lighter than her face. It looked soft, like a patch of damp cotton candy. At the nadir of her manicured triangle of pubic hair was Amber’s partially open, waiting vagina.

Her clitoral hood was mostly hidden by her matted hair, but you could see her smooth pearl already beginning to peak out at you. Bellow, her lips were parted, and you can see her pink, inviting entrance contracting and relaxing in time with her breath. It glistens with her arousal, and as you watch, a bead collects and slowly falls down the cleft of her buttocks toward the sheets below.

You take all of this in rapidly, in a matter of milliseconds you’ve recorded the scene and transcribed it into your memories non-volatile storage, blasting away whatever had been there before. Your erection is painfully unbearable, and you fall forward to capture Amber’s lips with your own again. “I love you,” you gasp out as you let up, only to duck down and playfully taste her breasts, finding them just as delicious as her mouth. 

“I love you too, baby,” Amber holds your head against her breast as gently, but as firmly as if she were holding a nursing baby. But her short claws painfully tangle in your hair as she practically snarls, “Now hurry up, I want to feel you inside me, Anon.”

Drunk on arousal, you absently note that something feels a bit off. Even though you’re desperate to plunge into her, you still have the presence of mind to ask, “Hey, Amber, are you on birth control?”

“What?” She asks in a tone usually reserved for Lil Jon. She goes silent for a few seconds as she tries to parse through what you’ve asked. “I, uh, no. I wasn’t really expecting, you know, this.” Her voice is impatient and husky with want. 

“Shit.” There is nothing in life, the universe, and everything, that you want more in this moment than to stick your dick into this beautiful, hot, willing woman beneath you, but you don’t really want to fuck up Amber’s life so soon after fucking up your own. Having an unexpected pregnancy with a deadbeat like you was probably high up there on the list of monkey wrenches that life can throw her way. Quickly, your mind races with all the speed and agility millions of years of evolution dedicated to getting your dick wet have blessed you with. Condoms? None in your room. Even if you’d had some before going off to college, your parents would have thrown them away during one of their “deep cleans.” There wasn’t any in your car either. You’d been tight on space, so you’d thrown away your supply, figuring that you’d have some time to pick some up in the far future when you’d meet the next special lady. The gas station at the bottom of the hill would have some, but there was no way you were leaving the house when you were hornier than a three dicked goat. At this point, you don’t think you’d be able to physically force your erection into the confines of socially acceptable pants in order to make the journey. That left one, unpalatable alternative.  

You blow out a long exhale, as if you’re preparing to lift a new personal record. Forcing yourself to stand up, you say to the frustrated Amber, “Okay, I need to go grab a condom, but it’ll just take a second. I promise I’ll be right back.”

Amber looks up at you with confusion, as if you’d grown a second, or third, head from your forehead. Her face screws up into a snarl and she reaches for a nearby pillow before bellowing into it. Taking that as permission, you briskly walk out into the hallway.

Pausing for a moment before the door to your parents’ room, you psych yourself up. This will be easy, a simple in and out, and then you can get to the in and out. You’d tried your best to erase the memory from your mind, and for years you’d been successful, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was time to raid your parents’ sex drawer.

You’d discovered it years ago when you’d been hunting for the pare set of car keys during on of your ‘it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ jaunts. On an academic level, you’d known your parents had to have had sex at least once. But, that objective fact was a world apart from pulling open a bedside drawer and finding it full of old porn magazines, condoms, lube, and what might have been a set of fuzzy handcuffs. You’d quickly shoved the drawer shut, your disgust at the thought of your old, wrinkly parents still having an active sex life too traumatic for you to want to make a complete inventory of its contents. But that was then, and this is now. As an older, wiser man, even though the thought is distasteful, if it means you get to stick your dick in a beautiful otter, then you can face the specter of your parents’ sexual life. No problem.

With that thought in mind, you open the door and find your parents’ room as immaculate and unchanged as you expected. A few quick steps takes you over to the far side of the bed, where the innocuous side table stands. It holds two drawers, a normal one containing your mother’s reading glasses, a box of tissues, and various other common items, and a second drawer below the first, appearing broken with no handle. Gingerly, you open he top drawer and use the little trick you’d figured out so long ago to pop out the bottom drawer as well. 

On the plus side, the porn magazines are gone. However, the dragon dildos that had taken their place are infinitely worse. The bright, multicolored silicone shapes you never thought you’d see in real life stare up at you, sending flashes of terrible, horrible, dreadful images through your mind. Your erection doesn’t just deflate, you can feel your testicles try to retract back into your body. 

You’re unsure just how long you stare into the abyss of wolf, dolphin, and various other species’ genitalia, but eventually your numbed mind identifies the familiar shine of a foil condom wrapper sticking out from the bottom of the drawer. Gingerly you reach in and carefully pull out a pair of condoms. Target acquired, you slam the drawer shut and try to think of Amber. Beautiful, hot, naked Amber. But, did you see the size of those things? Hot, horny Amber, damn it. But what was up with that one that had a cumtube? Fuck it. Deciding you need a visual reminder of what you’d suffered mental scars for, you rush back to your room, desperately clutching the condoms in your fist.

However, you come to a confused halt when you find Amber sitting up, clutching your pillow to her chest, covering most of her body, with her eyes downcast, looking pensive. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, pausing just inside the doorway.

Amber hugs the pillow tighter and is silent for a few, tortuously long seconds. “I don’t know,” she eventually answers, her voice thick. “Do you think this is a good idea? Do we really want to do this?”

In your humble opinion, there is nothing in this universe that you desire at this moment in time than to make love to the woman before you. Well, maybe forgetting that such a thing as dragon dildos existed … Instead of giving voice to these thoughts though, you calmly walk over and sit down next to Amber, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can stop. I’d never do anything to hurt you, Amber. And, if you feel like this will damage our relationship in any way, well, we can put our clothes back on. You can go home and I can see if my parents are still blocking pornhub.”

Amber snorts in amusement and you revel in the fact that you’re able to elicit a smile from her.

“It’s not that,” she says with a sigh. “It’s just … I mean … are you okay with this?” With one hand, she gestures down at herself.

Confused, you reply, “What? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be okay with you?”

“It’s just … well, I’m not the girl you knew in high school anymore.” She clutches the pillow tighter as she draws in on herself, trying to appear smaller. “I don’t get as much exercise as I should, and everything Frankie makes is full of butter and tastes amazing. The other day I found a pair of my old jeans, and no matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t button them. I swore that I’d get on a diet and exercise plan, but I was thinking of starting next week, so I’m not really the best me that I could be right now -”

“Hey,” you say, trying to break her spiral of self-deprecation. You reach up and try to tuck her short bangs behind her fuzzy ear, causing her to turn toward you. “Don’t worry about any of that. So what if your clothes from back then don’t fit? We’re both different people now. I’m not as much of a jerk, and you’re better looking than ever. You should be happy you can’t fit into your old clothes. No offense, but you’re much more huggable now.”

With a scoff, Amber looks at you with a quizzically raised eyebrow. “You’re sure you don’t just have a fetish for fat women?”

“Nope,” you say as you lean forward and give her a peck on the cheek. “Just for you.” You begin to trail kisses under her jaw and down her neck. “And I meant it when I said that you’re more beautiful than ever.”

Fighting against a gasp of an indrawn breath, Amber asks tremulously, “Even my tail? It was always the biggest on the swim team, and now it’s just … massive.”

“It’s the most beautiful tail I’ve ever seen,” you promise as you pluck the pillow from her distracted hands and continue kissing your way south. You may not be the most knowledgeable guy out there, but you know one sure fire way to convince a woman that she’s beautiful. 

Slipping off the bed, you coax Amber’s thighs apart as you softly kiss along first one inner thigh before switching to the other. Looking ahead, you can see that her partially tamed pubic hair is matted with her arousal, and is giving off a hot, heady scent. Gently, you lean forward and after a couple of light kisses further up her thighs and around her opening, you give her pussy an experimental lick, causing Amber to gasp far above your head. You find that she tastes a bit tangy, but by no means unpleasant. Repositioning yourself for better comfort, you rest a hand on either thigh and begin to eat her out in earnest. 

You’re not a cunnilingus virtuoso, but this isn’t your first rodeo either. While having a solid technique is great, every woman is different, so you carefully listen to the sounds she is making to give you an idea of what she likes, or doesn’t. Darting your tongue, you trace out the little channel between her labia minor and major, causing Amber to shakily exhale. A long, slow lap from the bottom of her opening to just shy of her clit causes her to moan, but in a longing way, asking for something more. You delve deeper before alternating your focus first on the left lip, and then the right, before giving her clit an exploratory flick. This causes Amber to gasp as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on your scalp to urge you on, or maybe to tell you to hurry up.

Absently running your hands up and down her thighs as you eat her out, part of your mind marvels at just how wonderfully soft yet bristly her fur is under your fingers. But, the majority of your focus is on the area around her clitoris. While you give the clit itself an occasional roll with your tongue, you try not to put to much emphasis on it just yet, so as to not overwhelm her with sensation. Occasionally you go back down and try to stick your tongue as far into her as you can, just to keep things interesting.

By a few minutes in, Amber’s moans have transformed into a single, continual rumble interspersed by breathy gasps and mumbled utterances of your name. She’s definitely wetter than before, and there is a large, and growing, stain on your bed sheet to attest to how great you’re making her feel. Happy with how you’re doing, you still feel the need to step your game up, so you let go of one of her thighs and ease first one, and then two fingers into her. It’s like pressing into a tight, yet soft oven. At first you simply pump them in and out as you continue to lap at her pussy, but soon you curl them as you pull out, searching for her g-spot. On the fifth or sixth try you apparently find it as your fingers brush past a smoother section of her vagina. At least you assume you did, judging by the shudder that runs through Amber’s body accompanied by a bit off yelp.

Deciding that it’s about time to finish things up, you focus on her g-spot with a come hither motion while first rolling her clit around with your tongue before gently sucking on it. In no time at all, Amber begins to scream in pleasure and clamps your head between your thighs while bearing down even more tightly on your fingers. After several long seconds, she releases you as all the muscles in her body go limp and she languidly collapses onto the bed.

“Damn,” she says, accompanied by a breathless laugh. 

“You like that, huh?” You say with a smirk while wiping your face off with your discarded shirt. 

Her unfocused eyes still gazing at the ceiling, Amber replies, “Yeah. Yeah I did. We should do that more often, like everyday, forever.”

You laugh. “I think we can probably come to some sort of arrangement.”

“Good.” Amber appears to have caught her breath as she looks down at you with a predatory grin. “But first, I think we need to discus something else.” She lifts up a hand and between her fingers are the condoms you’d discarded earlier. “Why don’t you join me on the bed and we can … talk about it,” she purrs while patting the sheet next to her.

Thanks to the intoxicating sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of eating her out, your dick is painfully hard, so you merely grin as you slowly, hopefully sexily, climb onto the bed. Amber was never one known for her patience, but it still surprises you when she reaches down and roughly drags you the rest of the way by your armpits. Your world tumbles as she flips you onto your back and then roles on top of you, coming to sit astride your waist, the warm weight of her tail keeping your legs apart.

“I think we’ve had just about enough foreplay,” Amber says as she draws one of her hands down your chest, her claws leaving red welts behind. You’re not complaining though, the slight pain only accentuates your anticipation for what the next few minutes will hold. With a toothy grin, Amber rips one of the condom wrappers open, and her smoldering gaze breaks with yours long enough for her to twist around, causing her ample breasts to jut out distractingly. Involuntarily, your cock jumps at the unfamiliar touch, but Amber steadies it with one hand as she rolls the condom down to your base. Once the rubber is on, sh reaches down and gives your balls a gentle squeeze as she smiles back at you over her shoulder. 

It’s been so long since someone has touched you, that you’re not sure how long you’re going to last. With a grimace, you plead, “Please...” Amber continues to smirk, but doesn’t reply as she lifts herself up. With one hand on your stomach, the other guiding your dick, she slowly lowers herself onto you.

You watch as your cock begins to disappear into Amber’s folds, but almost immediately you have to screw your eyes closed due to all the sensations assailing your senses. She’s so tight, so hot, so slick, you can’t help but to jerk upwards. You want to bury your whole length in her. Hell, you want to bury your whole body in her if you could. 

Unbalanced by your unexpected thrust, Amber’s hand slips off of you and she falls the remaining inches, completely enveloping your dick. “Whoa, easy there, tiger,” she says with a surprised laugh. You almost explode right then and there, but you force your ejaculation down with every fiber of your being as she leans forward, reaching for your hands and entwining her fingers with yours. She pulls them up, resting them on the pillow on either side of your head. “Give me a second, okay?” she whispers before leaning down and kissing you tenderly. The kiss is short lived however as she jerks back, her face scrunched up, her whiskers twitching from side to side. “I forgot, you were just down there.”

You lazily smile as you quip, “Shoot, did I forget the after oral mint?”

Amber rolls her eyes and gives you a peck on your nose. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” She leans back and with a roll of her hips, the capability for higher thought leaves you.

There is only one thought in your mind now, facilitating getting your rocks off in this beautiful woman who is towering over you, her soft, alluring curves leading up to her beautiful breasts, tantalizingly out of your reach. Your hands stay clasped with hers as she straightens up, but all your attention is focused on your dick as Amber slowly rocks back and forth, sliding you in and out by only a few exquisite millimeters, causing your heart to shoot up to EDM levels. After one particularly exciting gyration from Amber, you can’t help but thrust up to meet her, and it feels like you’re reaching deeper than ever before. Amber bites her lips as her eyes flutter, and soon she begins to bounce up and down on you.

You try your best to reciprocate, thrusting up as she falls back down, but it takes a couple of minutes to get the rhythm down. Unfortunately you have to let her hands go so you can place them on her hips to help steady and guide her. Amber doesn’t seem to mind much though as she settles one hand on your stomach while using the other to play with her breasts.

The two of you have a good thing going for a few minutes. You’re both in sync, the sweat pouring off of you, gasping into the hot and humid air of the room. You can only hope that Amber is feeling a fraction of how wonderful you are. But, you’d been nearly ready to blow before the two of you had started, so while it wasn’t entirely unexpected, the urge to ejaculate was as sudden as it was forcefully unstoppable this time.

“Shit, Amber, I’m about to cum,” you gasp out.

Amber shakes her head back and forth, causing her frizzing hair to sway hypnotically. “No, not yet. I’m almost there,” she cries out as she leans further back, placing her hands on the bed in order to drive you deeper into her.

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” You erupt with several long, hard spurts that cause your vision to darken and a ringing in your ears, followed by a few weaker spasms. While your cock was still hard, it was already softer than it was just moments ago, and its sensitivity is nearly painful as Amber continues to bounce up and down on it. You try your best to think of sexy things to keep it hard for her, but for some reason your mind wants to focus on a drawer of dragon dildos and you can feel yourself rapidly deflating. 

“Shit,” Amber says almost savagely. Her eyes are closed as she reaches down with one hand to play with her clit as she continues to plunge up and down on your cock. After a few more seconds, she gives out a series of heaving gasps and her whole body tenses as she clamps down on you. Almost immediately, she goes limp and collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as she tucks her head into the hollow of your neck.

“Was it good for you?” You jokingly ask as you reach up and run your fingers through her disarrayed hair.

Amber weakly slugs you in the arm. “It would have been better if the dork I was with had lasted longer than five seconds,” she complains while catching her breath.

You can feel a blush blooming across your cheeks, and you try to defend yourself. “Hey, it’s just, you know, been a while since I was with someone else. Usually this sort of thing doesn’t happen. I can usually last for hours and hours.”

Amber snorts, causing a delightful burst of hot air to blow across your neck. “Oh really. I’m sure that’s the first time that you’ve ever had to use that excuse, right?”

Your masculinity impugned, you sit up slightly, causing Amber to straighten up as well, though she stays somewhat draped across your chest. “No, really. Usually I last a lot longer. Just give me a minute or two to recover and I’ll show you.”

Amber’s predatory smile returns and she presses on your chest, encouraging you to lay back down. “Sure, sure. I can’t wait for round two.” She lays back down, resting her head on your chest. “But, before we begin, you have to promise me something.”

“Sure, what is it?” You ask while brushing some of her hair out of her face.

Impishly she replies, “You get to be the one who tells my mother why I didn’t come home tonight.”

Instantly you freeze and grow pale as memories of Amber’s mother race through your mind. Memories like the time that she gave another woman a black eye because their kid was bullying you and Amber.

“Don’t worry, Anon,” Amber says as she watches your reaction. “Mom likes you. Or, well, she liked the old old you, so she’ll like the new you, I promise. Of course, she said that I wasn’t allowed to date a guy who didn’t have a job, so there is that, but dad is a CPA and I’m sure he has tons of clients that would love to give you a job, so I’m sure things will work out, no problem.”

Not entirely mollified by her assurances, you monotonously say, “Sounds good,” as you stare into the depths of the popcorn ceiling.

“It will be,” Amber says confidently. “We’ll be great.” Her hand drifts southward and slips the used condom off your cock, exposing it to the chilly air. “But before that, what do you say you show me how you can last for ‘hours and hours?’”

And so you did.

The End.