Matinee Romance [;hyaenid; ;spotted hyena;][;mostly wholesome; ;theater; ;third person; ;short story;] Summary: It's a few days until opening night. Julie and Eric have no choice but to get the scene perfect, and that means giving in onstage...and off. Stage lights only had two purposes in the small repertory theater on campus - that is if you chanced to interrupt an exhausted volunteer stagehand. As was standard from the smallest storefront theater of less than twenty seats to the grandiosity of a major opera house, the first was to illuminate the stage when the house lights went down. For the eighty seat Minnicks Theater, they also functioned better than the ancient space heaters during a Minnesota winter. The drama professor, Dr. Moore, sat in the first row adjusting a blue and gray flannel coat that bore more resemblance to a dog blanket than outerwear. Onstage, Eric had removed all but a light tshirt and loose jeans, same as his partner, Julie. Their warm breath tickled at each other's throat, heights almost matched, as the old man alternated shuffling through the spiral-bound script and blowing into temporarily ungloved hands. Julie's rounded ears twitched during the delay, creating waves of warm air that threatened to draw beads of sweat along the side of Eric's face and neck. They'd been at things long enough this afternoon that the lack of her hoodie only produced the occasional shiver, rippling into her markings, when a chance stirring of the air cut deep enough into the stage heat. In those moments their different scents danced in the atmospheric ballroom. Eric's first thoughts upon being paired with her weren't of beauty, and far gentler than the worst Julie must have heard before coming to college. Her proportions veered towards other places. Her hips and legs were immediately signals to femininity, but the muscular build of her shoulders, thick enough to match his, and an upper back that guaranteed tighter necklines would require letting out to fit her...and then her neck. Half again too long, it was wide enough to blend into her jawline. Like along her face and arms, spots of light brown helped break the evidence of corded muscle. Hair just a shade darker wasn't long enough to flop over and give the illusion of a more human or canid style. Instead it blended upward like a crest or punk mohawk, then grew shorter until it fell beneath the tshirt collar in the rear. Still, there were far more bizarre proportions out there from a human perspective. A chance look into her dark eyes reminded him to stop the intrusive thoughts - whether they be of her body, the scent and feel of warmed fur just beneath the innermost layers of thin winter clothing, or the tiniest movements of her tail. Every rehearsal she'd held as still as possible to reduce any attention on her non-human features. Dr. Moore carefully placed the script and red pen for revision notes on the next seat. "From the top. Just a touch of feeling; try to remember that you're the mechanisms that show what's missing, not the romantic leads. They cannot learn their lesson until recognizing their nadir, and that happens in reaction to the two of you. Simple. Let the audience read into the spirit behind the words. And Julie? Project. This is not the library." The spotted hyena nodded in acknowledgement with downcast eyes. "Patrice's lines are not whispered nor is she slouching. In no way do we see her as meek. She was forgotten until the last minute, but by God she's determined to fulfill her part as a bridesmaid even if superstition says she'll never find true love. Today her perspective of Aaron changes. No matter her history with Charlene. Aaron's fraternal devotion to Greg shows her that he's not a simpleton and they share a goal. Together, they can rescue our leads so that those two safeguard the upcoming wedding. And this is the key scene. She's uncertain, maybe a touch bewildered at first by what Aaron is telling her here, but before walking back to the others the audience must understand the comparison between these two couples. On your marks." They'd gone through parts of the scene over the last half hour, Eric's hand resting on Julie's hip more often than not as they focused on each other instead of Dr. Moore. At first she'd been more reluctant, and laughed a couple times unprovoked. But the last couple rehearsals and readings had her quieter than in class once the dialogue stopped. Eric knew his roommate Wayne spent time chasing the anthro girls on occasion, so his advice was Julie could read his mind better than the inverse. A preschooler already knew that. Each rehearsal had begun with a reminder, silent and to himself, to not make bad situations worse. Everyone followed the same routine, from the leads to the lineless extras. Shower, brushed teeth, and a species appropriate deodorant suitable for the stage's heat. And breath mints. She prefered the larger ones that crunched, then left her smelling of summer-sweet peach. Julie's ears stopped twitching and went through their full range of motion a few times before locking towards him. They stepped back into position, eyes on each other as the scene resumed with Eric's line. "Why have you been so afraid?" Pause. At least this time wasn't a dress rehearsal, with Moore directing his hand all over Julie's sandy coat. "Imagine everyone's surprise when you laugh it off." Pause. Hadn't he seen how embarrassed she was at the end of that session? "Charlene is just as nervous as you, if not more." "Dolt. She didn't count up the invites. With everything else on her mind, she could try to focus on this wedding first rather than having Greg on her mind continually." "Going by today, three quarters of it is negative. Not that he's behaving any smarter." "So that makes me the ugly friend?" Julie must have felt that way more than once, even if everything else claimed that under the lights wasn't her chosen spot. "Hardly. Girls like her come in ten packs." Eric paused too long, then gave up on remembering the half-hearted simile from yesterday's changes. "Cut." A haze of exhaled water vapor from Dr. Moore swirled in his wake. The cold beyond the stage fueled his wild gestures as he paced the front row of eleven seats. "What do I have to do here? This isn't a middling disagreement. Tension! Let your lives inform the performance. You've been thrust together. Do nothing, and get nothing out of it. Do what the script intends, and love blooms along with the chance of a passing grade." His coat slid off and he made it halfway down the stagefront before realizing. Once retrieved, he stood before them far calmer. "Julie, your line. Action." "Then it's ten to one. Nine others would have enjoyed watching the tenth self-destruct yet again. I'm the one that wants more than that, or you pratfalling for their laughs again." "I slipped." Short pause, then he remembered directions to step backward. "Greg aimed the shot out of reach but too close for a dive. He knew." "So I should have given up? What's worse; the small laugh or the epic tragedy?" Eric winced and hoped Dr. Moore hadn't caught the flub. The meat of Julie's pads struck Eric square in the chest and spilled him backwards, the one-two cracks swallowed by the theater walls. "Stop making excuses, Aaron!" "Cut!" "Oops." Even with the lighting's hum, Julie's whisper filled the space. "Perhaps a bit less hip in the push, hmm? It does get the point across better. We'll keep that for now. It'll be a fitting excuse to have one less line forgotten." Eric worried that the professor's light tone hid anger. "Sorry, Dr. Moore." "It's the perfect place for an improv, but we don't have the time to cue card everyone's dialogue. Get up. One last bit. Patrice just apologized. Eric, your line. Action." He took a second brush off imagined beach sand. "Forget it." "I don't want to go back and be the same. We could walk around the long way and take your car back to the city." Pause, and on cue Julie looked over her shoulder to where the others would be. "Do you have a spare set of keys?" "One of us has to go back. Else we're trusting them with remembering our stuff, and I don't." The professor clapped at Eric's last line, leaving the scene's last four lines unsaid. "Better, better. Amazing how things sound without dead air. Three more days before premiere. Just maybe you two will have this scene's ending perfect by then. Back here tomorrow, an hour earlier. We'll review, then have a dress rehearsal." Eric found Julie after her grabbed his own bags. Julie had retreated to the shadowy wings and the steps leading back down to the ground floor. Her pastel backpack waited on the second step up, plain except for the hundred charms and bits attached to every zipper or strap. The outlines of a few textbooks bulged the canvas and had worn away color on a few corners. One of the webbing pockets held a travel-sized box of tissues, and she balled one in a fist as she spun in surprise. Better to leave some things unsaid. "Opening isn't going to be any fun, but at least Dr. Moore can't stop us every few lines." "I guess." "C'mon. I'll buy us a late lunch and coffee down the street." Dark eyes stared back at Eric as he offered a hand up, hints of the stagelight catching her face. "Really. It's just one week worth of shows, but we need to sync up better. Well, me really. That and forget I'm on stage. Swear I don't bite." She couldn't meet his gaze. "Not that hungry." "Yeah, you are. It's bad enough as is with me screwing up. Don't fight me on this; if he has my hand move a quarter inch lower and to the rear someone's going to film it from the audience and stick it online. I should be thankful he can't cut our costumes down any more." "Tomorrow." Julie unfolded to her full height, almost level with him. "Promise?" She nodded in response. "Good. Go take a nap or whatever you do once your people meter for the day is exhausted. Me? I'm hitting the student center after food, then memorizing yet another set of scribbled changes." He'd finally wrung a laugh from the hyena today. "Swear the man has an agenda." Eric left in the opposite direction, not seeing the pastel bag float up effortlessly after Julie shrugged into a hoodie, thick sweater, and knit cap. Outside the double doors, a wet snowfall was covering anything shoveled from the morning. Julie hadn't returned to the dorms after rehearsal. She walked in her bubble of body warmth past buildings and the bright flyers plastered over any designated space. One didn't catch her eye. She'd already seen it - a mish-mash of vaguely anthropomorphic angular shapes seemingly in the middle of a beach volleyball game. Just below the play's title a summery script announced the leads. Rachel Woseman as Charlene. Xavier Quinlan as Greg. Her walk ended at the south library, which had three rows of study cubicles. On one side the rows of bookshelves were hidden by a dividing wall of muted concrete block, and on the other by movable dividers. Even though the cubicles were open on top and away from the windows, hardly anyone could spy from the second floor mezzanine. Any non-human would hear or smell them first in the neutral silence of the building. The campus had few public places available for slouching with ears backwards. Julie went through each reading twice, the same for notes or assignments. By the time she left the snow had stopped, the shorter parts of her exposed coat barely stirred by the twenty degree breezes. A yellow wet floor sign cautioned students entering the dorm through the side doors. No sane person hung around the cold entryway with the melted snow. Twice the stairwell exits brought Julie close to common areas with a mix of indistinct voices. She picked her way upward until the sixth floor. Room 621 was four down, on the left, and dark inside. "Where have you been? And what time is it?" Brooke rolled over on the narrow bed and flicked on an overhead gooseneck lamp. The bunny had shed everything but a tanktop and bikini panties thin enough to show the colors underneath as she stood and stretched. "Seriously. Sun goes down and I'm out. It's almost midnight. You finally found yourself a fuckboy?" "Nine." The hyena's tiny voice and downcast eyes were aimed away from the other bed, swallowed by the tiny room. The sweater and cap were hung together on one of the pegs of an alcove door that also contained three drawers, a door mirrored on the inside, and a closet rod bowed from years of use. She'd filled them with hopes long ago, same as back home "Crap." Brooke blinked as her phone's light washed over and confirmed facts, then tossed it back to the bed. "You gotta stop hiding in libraries, Julie. This is worse than my first year. Three in the morning, every Thursday through Saturday." Julie dropped to a bed which protested with a squeal of decade old springs. Pushed to one side was a den of blankets. "Dr. Moore is going to fail me." "Wait. Moore, the drama prof?" "Yes." "What the hell did you do?" The bedsprings creaked louder with the addition of a second and slighter body. "We're going to make fools of ourselves. I'm not a star." The shadow of a cast-off mannequin had bits of two different dress patterns pinned to it, both cut generously over chest and shoulders but loose in the hips. Julie sniffed and laughed at her fate. "Easy A, I thought. Go and do alterations for a grade, but no. Everyone has a third of their grade based on performance, so here I am trying not to bawl my eyes out because my partner has to feel me up and remember his lines, but fumbles both of them like a stage weight. There's this one lynx girl in our class that looks at me like I'm a trash panda that broke into her kitchen, the female lead is a shrimp of a human that thinks I've never been in a theater, and her human boyfriend is the other lead. Last dress rehearsal he laughed too long after I got nicknamed Wellington. We started with me in something looser so that, well, you know. But that made me different." Brooke lost her balance as Julie leaned in harder. A barely voiced protest came from between the mattress and hyena until Julie rolled on her back, Brooke wrapped in stronger arms. Without the ability to break free, the bunny submitted and slowed her breathing. Eventually the gooseneck brightened its corner of the room further, and two pairs of eyes had adjusted within the windowless room. Julie relaxed her grip enough for Brooke to turn and manage words. "Oh, crap. That's got to be on the less comfortable side." The ceiling acquired a new coat of stains each school year. During her freshman year Julie had tried ascribing deeper meaning to the squiggles of dirt caked to tape residue, or the irregular rings of light brown from sprayed soda or beer, both pocked by evidence of pens and pencils shot upward in boredom. Or, as she counted the total that had punched through the ceiling tiles, unavoidable frustration. Were the half-heard girls from this morning right? If she had the size and body for it, why not take things out on a punching bag? Except for the chance to break her wrist two days before something that counted as a third of her final grade combining with the phobia of wearing almost nothing in front of a large room, why not? The two most likely endings were whispers about the incompetent new girl or becoming the center of attention with a one-on-one trainer. She clutched the smaller girl tighter. "Can we not?" "There's a code of conduct." Brooke attempted to wriggle free of the hyena, gave up briefly, then resumed with grunts and whispered curses. She gave up again and rested on the larger girl's chest. "If he's rewriting just to stroke his dick-" "He's gay. Very gay. I need an A from Moore, not reminders that I haven't picked out a boyfriend." "And that matters how? You got a male co-star. Maybe Mr. Pride is feeling all tingly about him. But you still have a job." Brooke tried again to wriggle free. "Is he cute?" "Human." "Taller than you?" "Barely." Julie's hips shifted to get circulation back on one side, but Brooke laughed at the timing. "Now that's something. Told ya at the beginning of the year. Human guys like their girls shorter, even if it's only half an inch. And you need some alone time if you're not begging for his dick, because I'm not taking care of what ya got. Probably ten of them for every hyena guy, so stop fretting about whether you're the big spoon or little spoon. Get 'em off and get slick." "He's not into me." Repeating her mother's, and sisters', advice involved more words than Brooke ever cared to sit still for. "Bullshit. Go take a shot of yourself in the shower. Feel good about yourself and smile like you're better than any human next rehearsal." The smaller girl laughed easy, the larger choked back hers. "What else did the prof have you two doing that's got you grinding?" "We've got a big scene. He kept telling Eric to move his hand lower and back." "From where? Could be worse, like sitting his lap for an hour and both of you facing the audience." Brooke elbowed her roommate. "He's not that ugly, hmm?" With a long sigh, the hyena gave in. "Guess not." "So what's the sitch?" With an easy motion Julie rolled up to sitting, releasing Brooke finally so she could shed the rest of her own clothing. First the hoodie, then plain sneakers that protected sensitive toepads from brushed concrete sidewalks. The bunny pulled up a slice of floor and waited cross-legged, ears tuned to her roommate, for the lowdown. "The play takes place on a beach one summer day." "Better than the weather outside. I've got to take a hot shower every afternoon to warm back up, then hit the dryers. Summer's your season. Why the heck did you choose Minnesota?" "Scholarships." "OK. Beach scene. You and a guy. What's the problem?" "I'm going to be in a swimsuit, and each rehearsal costuming keeps making it smaller." "And you've been in costume how many times in front of Mr. Hunky Human?" "Just once, but also backstage. Moore can't make it much smaller." Julie described the latest plans: bikini bottoms that were in danger of becoming a thong if the wearer moved too much, and a top that covered less than a handwidth on each small breast. Brooke pitched herself forward onto hands and knees, shaking her butt and tail in the air. A stream of three dozen facts about human guys went from raunchy to pornographic until Julie covered her eyes. Of course she'd bring up how her last hookup was human, and the one before that. "Brooke, you're making some of that up." "You need to get out more. Happens all the time in movies. If I had a halfway hunky guy grabbing my ass, I'd be getting that sweet unresolved sexual tension going. I swear if you don't do something, I'll send him a few voyeur shots." "Eric doesn't see me like that." "Sure? Have you asked and he said, 'I'm not into tall hyena babes?' Because you'll rock whatever they stick you in, and if his is skimpy as well then you'll know he's lying. If I was in your shoes, I'd be giving off signals so hard that even a dullnose human would get the hint." She paused, then jumped up and bounced on toetips. "Got it! Turn the tables, toss him over your shoulder, and demand a massage. He'll be dragging you to a secluded corner so fast you won't have time to get embarrassed." "I'm not other girls." And, she considered, that's not how things work. "Oh, boohoo. You ever see that one goshawk on the flight squad? Gee something. Heard she got herself nailed good by her human teammate before one of the big meets at this fall and has been taking it ever since. Gavina, that's it. If a literal chickie like that doesn't give a damn what people think, and her boyfriend loves it, what's stopping you and Mr. Theater Geek?" "Brooke? Stop it." "Fine. We don't need another demo of you being as strong as my hookups." She shut off the gooseneck and rolled into her blankets before the hyena could finish undressing for bed. Eric shared her problem. There was so much more to the theater than what the audience saw during a performance. Before slipping off to sleep half an hour later, Julie gripped the length of steel pipe she'd bolted to the bed and applied pressure. The bed creaked as the bend of the pipe increased a fraction, then again as she curled up, far too exposed for comfort. A few buildings over, Eric tried to sleep in a room as small and dark as Julie's. He kept revisiting the first moment, three weeks ago, when he'd been assigned the part of Aaron. Immediately after his head turned as Julie's name was called for Patrice. The classroom shrunk to a point as she covered her muzzle and ran out. Eight classes since then, and each one she'd arrived before him and avoided his eyes. But rehearsals weren't class. The first two had been a patent disaster between them. An audience might not notice things the way an actor experienced them, but in theater timing was everything. A director could have the perfect script, sound and costuming that wowed an audience, and a packed house. But the tightest timing meant actors that really felt the emotion behind their lines. Nothing went perfectly, so one needed to swing with the moment. After zeroing in on his two non-actors, Moore had assigned them near daily mini-rehearsals. Eric raced from class to theater each day, his heart thudding from the exercise as much as a fear of arriving late. It would be a mutiny if he and Julie didn't improve. The play wasn't rancidly bad, just another by a third-rate playwright that was more than happy for a royalty check from a medium sized college. Eric had seen it back home. Small community theaters used a rotation of things guaranteed to bring in a packed house, and alternated that with things that a good number of season ticket holders would skip on principle. The matinee had been the favorite weapon of his theater back home. Get one set of families in during the afternoon, serve cast and crew a snack, then put on the evening show. And if it was the kind of thing where an adult only audience was expected, a teenager working lights and sets acquired an education. When the sun went down and stagelights rose, the least an audience expected was an extra wink or nod to the salacious. It was one thing to know be the voyeuristic kid in the rafters, another to be on display. Julie must have had some of the same experience. His touchstone had been the year before starting college, eighteen already and strong enough to run the sets alone. That meant they only needed a back-of-house for the computer controlled lights, the same for sound reinforcement, and two costumers. They usually used more than double that, but it was the Halloween shows. Rather than hold open auditions for three separate plays, the company had split into three parts. The lead of one performed a bit role in others that was easily remembered. Almost all the crew had been recruited to fill in larger scenes, just like the Christmas shows. He'd bombed out in audition three times before and hadn't been asked to pick a part that year. After the summer season ended a new actress joined the company. She introduced herself as Vanita: a pale as anything snow leopard, ballerina type grace, and the chops to play anything from an innocent ingenue to a laughing villain. Her problem was the company had enough competent female leads, but she'd thrown herself into the supporting roles. Her moment came when the Halloween shows were announced. She'd won the female lead, opposite an ensemble cast, in the zombie-themed show. And his mother couldn't stop him from working the late or evening shows. Eighteen meant he was his own man. The rehearsals involved a sizable chunk of how much they could tart up the thing, in the words of the silver-haired director. After all, the audience wasn't coming for the same show as the elementary school kids. And Vanita had no problem with the things the director had in mind. Each rehearsal had the woman in little more than a bra and thong after her transformation into the queen of the newly made zombies. If they were doing a quick airbrush job over her spotted coat to represent the change, no use hiding it beneath layers of gauze or linen. At the last minute costuming had found a two piece lingerie set that left little to the imagination at the distances the audiences would be viewing from. From the short distances of backstage, Vanita was a thread spool from complete nudity. Eric disconnected his eyes from the rest of his body just to get the requisite work done. Then opening night arrived. The matinee had been a roaring success. Comedic vampire shows always were. The second show was based on a pre-Restoration movie, and unarguably the scariest of the three in Eric's mind. A phantom killer in a locked room mystery might have been clichéd, but if it didn't work it wouldn't have survived. At eight Eric had started moving the second set away and hoisting backdrops for the third from the rigging. Almost two hours of show once they started at nine, then at least of hour of prepping for the Sunday matinee. Thankfully they weren't doing three shows in one night again. Vanita's transformation came at the halfway point of the play. Her role before was nothing more than the armcandy of one of the ensemble's guys. The zombies had risen, taking her and one other guy. A duo of gauze-draped crew dragged each of them to the back as the victims screamed for their lives, sound reinforcement echoing around the theater. He dropped a curtain and the remaining ensemble worked themselves up to return to the graveyard. Behind the curtain, two costumers ripped off every scrap of clothing from the snow leopard as he checked the airbrush. Vanita turned on her toes as she was painted, adding spots of green and yellow. Not a square inch was spared possibility of the washable body paint. And Eric lost his composure when one of the costumers made the joke about how his mother wouldn't approve of this. Vanita replied that the only thing better than what a curtain hid from the audience was the little you teased them with. And her character had just had her life, and repressed sexuality, ripped from her. The soiree, she called it. Opposite of a matinee and just as important to the fleeting heart. The near transparent bra and thong went over her coat, and she tested the paint's dryness by pressing up against Eric. Fur warmed by stage lights tickled through a thin tshirt and shorts. Her words burnt into his brain, her scent and softness pressing on him in ways that none of his girlfriends could manage. One of these days, some lucky girl is going pull you onstage and you're going to pull her backstage after. Her tail's fluff tapped his bare calf, then she pushed away. He stood stunned as the costumers retreated backstage, almost missing his cue to raise the curtain on the graveyard set again. From stage right Vanita strutted out to the zombie queen's song, hips rotating as she bounced in mimicry of the lyric's acts. Eric's eyes glued to Vanita's barefoot shuffle between coffins, then her backpedaled retreat to the last row of foam headstones. She bent over one as the bridge started and balanced on it, hands guiding her ass in a side-to-side sway. A finger hooked the thong. From his position in the dark, Eric was the only once to see as the narrow strip of cloth moved to the right and exposed the snow leopard's holes. Back and forth, just for him as three hundred watched. Just as soon the thong slid back where it should have been, and she strutted forward as Eric rushed to his mark. The trapdoor needed an operator. The old fantasy ended, and Vanita's words bounced like cannonshot. Some lucky girl. His heart cycled out of overdrive, muscle and flesh relaxing as tension drained away. Julie was hardly the lithe snow leopard exposing herself in front of so many, but this time he wasn't hidden in the shadows. Tomorrow he had one last chance to settle himself, because remembering Vanita while onstage would be disastrous. The whole cast would be far less nude than Vanita had, but Julie needed that moment of transformation. Had she ever worn that little to a beach? It suited her athletic build, but only if she felt whole in her body. Remember the zombies. Rip away the things that hold one back. Become the part, hidden inside. Tease the audience with what they already know. And after: what happens backstage is the actor learning from the character. Julie needed to have that flash of confidence, and that meant he had to deliver the last line perfectly. The next morning Brooke tempted fate by tickling Julie's exposed toepads with a umbrella tip until the larger girl kicked at the offending object. After a tactical retreat the bunny returned and switched to the other foot. A thin blanket went flying from the second kick, leaving the exposed hyena curled up in her underwear and groping for a pillow to block the light from her roommate's lamp. The third temptation caused Julie to kick backwards with both feet, the momentum rolling her over and off the low bed - into the scrap of floor narrower than either bed - with a noise that combined equal parts yip, grunt and girly scream. Brooke leaped back on her own mattress, waiting for the hyena to clear her head. "Wakey wakey, yeenie gets some sausage and bakey!" "Seriously?" "I'll bet you didn't eat last night, so get some fresh panties on and clothes over those spots." Julie looked around until she found her phone, then stared briefly at the oversized numerals. "It's 6:30AM and below freezing outside." "Coffee." The bunny tiptoed closer until she leaned over her roommate. Lapine large eyes fixated on a point three feet behind Julie, causing the hyena to strain her eyes in the attempt to keep Brooke from becoming an early morning blur. "Blacker than your eyes and hotter than your ass getting groped by Mr. Hunky Human." With the last words Brooke went nose to nose versus Julie. A flicked finger from the bunny to the hyena toppled the taller in another whirlwind of limbs. Fifteen minutes later both girls had completed their morning showers and emerged from the quick dryers. "Fine. Getting up early-" "Is an acceptable price to pay for not standing in line for half an hour on cold tile, my lovely bonemuncher. And if you don't get your tail dressed before I'm ready, I'm finding ten guys that like 'em tall." "Uggh." The hyena sprinted away and locked the door to their room, leaving Brooke outside until her high-pitched laughter and lewd remarks had woken half the floor. "Aren't hyenas supposed to completely own the lionesses out on the plains? And here you are, getting shown up by little old me. I'm not even tall enough to boop your nose." "Doesn't sound like you need coffee." "But you do." The cafeteria at the student union never slept, just changed the total population of bleary-eyed undergrads. A majority left little time for conversation between shoveling whatever species appropriate chow the menu held that day. Track lighting twenty feet above cast everything in a series of shadows that muddled what the hour was. The bunny's unending spiel of words aimed at her roommate, and the grande coffee that looked like a miniature pail in her small hands, would have caught more attention at a later hour. The girls tucked jackets through backpack straps as they shook off the worst of the morning chill. Brooke pushed Julie in front as they walked through the vegetarian line, nibbling as she prodded the hyena's hamstrings and calves with a knee. The incident repeated as Julie loaded up her usual two plates in the meat and protein line. Brooke had to use the lower of the two cafeteria tray rails, only a couple feet off the floor and just above Julie's knees. "C'mon. Just get a scoop of everything and let's sit." Fresh trays came out and Brooke switched to prodding Julie with elbows. "Hard-boiled eggs in shell? Oh no you don't. Take those away. Scrambled eggs are fine, but if she munches on a half dozen she'll be farting chalk later today." The cafeteria worker stared down at the bunny through the sneeze guard. "Fine. She can have one." The lady passed two of the cold hard-boiled eggs with a smile; Julie managed a whispered thanks before adding more sausage. Her tray and the plain white plates rattled with increasing volume, fed by her continual slouch. By the time they found an open table, Julie's posture morphed to an attempt to seem the shorter girl. A repeated stream of muttering about her drink's temperature bled right back to Brooke's rapid advice. "Now here's the best part. All you have to do is wiggle your ears or show off a little fur, and half the human guys are going to get ideas. I mean, look at me. First human guy I ever went for was like whoa, I can hold you one-handed. Once he figured out what thick thighs mean, I had him slicked so good that he showed me what loading and unloading groceries all day does for a guy. I was lighter than a sack of dog food once I grabbed his shoulders and bounced like a roo on a trampoline." "If you weren't such a lazy flufftail, you could write one of those sleaze advice columns." "See? That's why pred species are hilarious. Millions of years of evolution, and once we're upright your wimp factor goes up. Bet half your problems in life started in kindergarten. Big hyena chickie has to hear, day in and day out, 'Please be careful with the other children, little Julie.'" The crunch of a forkful of lettuce and carrot caused a wince in the other girl. "But you'd been tiptoeing on eggshells the whole recess period, trying to be smaller so they didn't change your schedule and kick you into PE with the next grade level." Another round of crisp veggies were as loud as their consumer. "This one shaggy bear in my elementary school - think his name was something completely insane like out of Charles Dickens - ended up with the fourth grade PE class when he was in kindergarten. Wouldn't even let him play dodgeball because he'd always get assigned to the dodging part." Julie peered out from under improvised den of her jacket. "Can we not recap my body issues at this hour?" Strong teeth bit through the thigh from a rotisserie chicken. "If you think that's bad, imagine me in middle school. Remember those wellness and health workbooks?" She left out other obvious incidents. Called in front to the blackboard. Partner assignments. Readings in English class, and more. "No shit. That's why I need to crack you. I keep imagining what a scene you'd cause if I got you in a mesh shirt and booty shorts down at the Midnight on anything but 70s night. Seriously. I can shake my ass all night, but a few seconds of you will have every guy from the humans down to the rodents and up to the drafts twitching." "You're worse than the wolves." Julie stopped a shiver in time before it dislodged her from the precarious wedge of table, chair, and disappearing hyena. "At least they start carving initials into any available surface once they crush on a guy, then start buying bridal magazines." "Buncha pathetic creeps. They're only pulling the loser human guys because they're so easy." "Carrot muncher." "Marrow sucker." The friendly argument took a detour when Brooke spotted a cloaked goshawk and her taller human companion. She waved them over, ignoring the new girl's eyes that were redder than any sleep-deprived or marijuana-assisted level of bloodshot. "Gavina! One of the few people that can help me. This is my roommate, Julie." "Yes." The goshawk didn't have a heated cloak, but the combination of light shawl and outerwear only added to the intimidation factor of the raspy voice. That, and the hooked beak centered in bands of gray and white feathers. Sharp eyes swept over the table and occupants. "And Julie, this is the chickie I mentioned last night and her super woah guy. I keep forgetting his name-" "Drew." "-but that doesn't really matter if you're not the one screaming it each night." Two sets of female eyes bored holes into the bunny's skull, but she ignored the lack of enthusiasm. He pulled out the chair for Gavina, then tossed his windbreaker over the remaining chair back. "I hope you've got a reason, Brooke. Gavina's broke half the records for catch-on-ground with ease this year. Once the snow stops, you'd make a great target if Burson needs volunteers for the spring meets." The petite girl propped her elbows on the table and cheeks between gray hands. "In case you didn't notice, my roommate's already a pred." Brooke ignored the goshawk and leaned over the table towards Drew. "Chickie's going to have to try harder to scare me, because Julie's a bigger softie than a bed with triple feather mattresses." A strangled cry from Gavina didn't budge the bunny. "Rabbit stew." Each word was carefully enunciated despite being half-whispered. Julie straightened in her seat. "I'm not a softie." She remembered the eggs, and swallowed each after a satisfying few seconds of crunching. "See, that's your problem, Julie. Brooke is so used to pushing you around that she forgets you could rip her apart." Drew reached over the table and pushed the bunny back before she crawled up to join the plates. A hand, promise ring glittering on one finger, emerged from under cloak and wings to grab a slice of breakfast sausage. "Am I soft?" Half disappeared with a definite click. "Not at all." Drew held the bunny back as he turned to Julie. "Gavina's possessive, and sometimes forgets she's half my weight. As much as I hate to admit a hypersexual bunny is ever right, you've got to take a chance once in a while. Who's the lucky guy?" After giving up and returning to breakfast, Brooke crunched for most of a minute. When Julie failed to answer, the bunny sighed and filled in the two flight team members. "Her drama partner." "When?" Gavina's red-eyed stare alternated between Brooke and Julie. "Two more days after today. She's going to need a little support in the crowd. Based on what she spilled last night, the costuming shows a lot and Ms. Modesty here is getting groped hard enough for softcore porn." Brooke whispered at Gavina from across the table. "Did I mention how jealous I am?" A survey of the table wasn't fair. Julie went from left to right, starting with Drew's detached mood. Her roommate drank another slug of coffee, the excitement contrasting with the unflinching stare of the goshawk. "Fine. I'll try. But he keeps flubbing his lines." "Make him yours." "How?" Was Gavina a potential friend? The conversations would be simpler than with Brooke. "No options." Drew shook his head at what must have been an old argument. "Gavina, I don't think attempted rape is good advice." "She wants. He wants. No problems." "That's what I love about you. Everything's straightforward." "We help?" After judging the intense gaze, Drew lost the staring contest. "You want to get tickets? Did we have anything planned for that night?" With a fangirlish shriek that caught dirty looks from nearby tables, Brooke pogo-sticked around the table. "What's his name? Eric? You need to be giving him the look Gavina can't help but give Drew." It was, for some value of horrible, not the kind of morning introverts liked. Her roommate's extroversion cut into the reserves needed for rehearsal later today. The two flight squad members had remembered more from those middle school workbooks on how to deal with emotional and temperament differences, but the bunny hugging her from behind must have shifted from doodling in the margins to undaunted enthusiasm during high school. Props littered the stage. A blue backdrop provided sea and sky, a low wattage light shone onto a pale reflector to give a large sun, and a sunbleached strip of canvas made for easier cleanup than plastic sheeting covered with playbox sand. Just off of center stage the students playing the parts of Greg and Charlene, Xavier and Rachel, listened to the critiques of Dr. Moore. Rachel hadn't bothered to grab a cover-up. She sulked in her red thong and triangle top pulled narrow over a sunbed tan. Xavier, like Eric, found himself in bottoms that looked like acquisitions from the swim team. Comparatively, Julie's bikini was conservative but smaller than acceptable for the least liberal of the college's trustees. The medium brown contrasted nicely against her sandy coat and darker spots, but despite real straps instead of flosslike strings it revealed almost as much. Towards stage right, a trio of beach blankets had the other friends of the main couple still lounging in character and enjoying the endless day. On the other side of the leads was an improvised beach volleyball net. And at stage left was the quadrant assigned to private conversations or events out of sight of the rest. A few staff took notes, both from the professor and on their own initiative for last chance modifications. Eric counted Dr. Henard the most feared of the lot. Few non-humans pursued degrees at the university's college of fine arts and music, so a seven foot tall tigress gone to gray in the hair stood out. She'd hidden most of that with a custom dyejob that matched her striped coat, but left the rumors passed down like summer camp horror stories. One of the best was that she took out a dyke hippo at some biker bar with a single punch. Even at a whisper the woman's voice boomed. A stagehand retreated after finishing her requested adjustment of the backdrop. Dr. Moore had chosen a sweatshirt from some obscure Broadway run and a scarf loud enough for a maniacal alien. He thanked Henard without interrupting the broad gestures he'd been making, pacing a deeper rut in the strip between the front row and the stage edge. "Stop paying attention to anything on the other side of the net. Marilyn, take Julie in the back and adjust her costume again. Eric, back to the other side of the net. Let's pick up from the previous scene." Halfway through listening to the latest dribble of how some ivory tower liberal thought people behaved, Julie snuck back onstage. Dr. Moore was too wrapped up in how his edits clarified the author's intent. She took her place at Eric's side, close enough that the audience would consider them touching but in reality a few feet apart. "And you call me no fun." His pause gave the others time to sell the reaction. "Drag us out here for the weekend, and you two are still fighting." The remainder of the scene played out until the lights changed to drop everything but stage left into shadow. Eric and Julie paced past the net for the scene they'd practiced yesterday. Deep breath. Only a few lines. A dozen was less than eighty, and five minutes was less than an hour. Shouting from the other side of the stage and a single spotlight ended the scene. Eric's sweat finally broke in the artificial heat as the leads started the second half of the one act play. The recessed fans may have been blowing AC almost as cold as the weather outside, but by the time it reached the blankets it barely cut the heat. He tried comforting Julie with an arm over her shoulders, but the tall girl remained in her seated and curled position with head resting on knees as the scripted argument from stage left veered towards a real life analogue. Dr. Moore joined the students onstage, quickly confronted by Rachel. "Next play, I'd rather not cover up my retching or carry novice actors. You really should change your policy and leave acting to people that belong on a stage. We'd have quicker rehearsals." "Your opinion is noted, and your final grade reduced." "What?!" "Repertory and high school theater have places for sandspeck divas. If I had you doing costuming, like Julie would prefer to, or work the lights for Eric, well? Hmm? Perhaps some humility would improve your next performance. Pity I can't have you up in the rafters before we open." "I'd puke." "And that would drain any bile." Dr. Moore turned to the rest of the cast. "We'll do a full rehearsal tomorrow after lunch, and maybe we can make it through to the end, hmm? No changes." A whoop escaped from one of the swimsuitted supporting actors. "Any questions? No? Off my stage then. Shoo so props can do their work." Half an hour later Eric intercepted Julie at the hallway leading to the women's dressing rooms. "Ready?" "Forgot." "Sure you did. How was my fall today?" Julie slouched a fraction in response. "The look on everyone's face was worth it." "They probably thought it was on purpose." "How much you want to bet Ms. Diva confronted the prof while - fuck." The petite blonde hadn't donned a coat, so bright, eraser-stiff nipples dented her spaghetti strap top. She pushed between Eric and the hyena, showing some of her part was well rehearsed. "I do not appreciate Dr. Moore's technique, but you two will not..." Her tirade met an easy to summon idiot look from Eric. "...understand? One act plays aren't amateur hour." She turned to Julie and returned the other girl's stare. "Don't try that dominance act on me." "Then don't start it." Julie's near whisper wasn't audible five feet away. "Oh. What are you going to do?" Now is not the best time, he thought. "Julie's twice your size and almost as strong as me." "Any other almosts you want to add to that list?" She pushed into Eric's side and talked around him to Julie. "I think he forgot a few lines today looking at everyone's ass." "If I have to hide a copy of the script onstage, I will. It'll double as a coverup." "True. Half the audience is going to be there in case of a wardrobe malfunction. Bad enough if I pop out. The guys? Don't stick ice cubes down there, but use some tape. But Ms. Almost Female-" The taunt had the hyena dropping her backpack in a rattle of cheap charms and drugstore doodads, but not making forward progress. Eric pushed backward until Julie was swinging at air and trapped between his back and the wall. The blonde was frozen by the whooping grunts, so unlike the quiet the hyena tended to exhibit. A cleared throat spun the human girl around to the old tigress and Dr. Moore. "I believe there used to be a saying, 'Do you want to take that outside?' As you have a disadvantage in every statistic but the audacity of your mouth," at which Rachel stammered to explain the context of her joke, "you may choose how we handle this. I believe Dr. Henard is the strongest among us, and quite able to play the role of a ceiling mount if you wish to co-star as gym equipment. Or, you could apologize." Once words were said and the offending object removed, Eric straightened with Julie still slumped against him. Her feet dangled, swinging just off the bare concrete floor. With a sniff Julie dropped down, grabbing her backpack as she sprinted away. "How did it go today? Still nervous that you're going to flunk and need to take another semester of arts to graduate?" "If you think it's easy, I'll ask Dr. Moore if you can replace someone last minute." Eric's back competed with his thighs for the soreness championship. Girls fought once in a while, but Julie? The bigger you are, the more careful. The role reversal and outburst had embarrassed her, that was all. That, and it did enough to cleave salacious old fantasies from the present. It was one small moment, not wholesale exhibitionism. "Thank you, no. He'd put me in your shoes, and I'd have to look up to a thick-necked hyena chick. Beady eyes ain't my kink. He get her more naked for you?" Eric tossed his bag on the bed, then ripped the textbook out of his dormmate's hands. "The hell kind of-" "Just because she looks like the cross between a linebacker and amateur heavyweight boxer doesn't mean you can't pin her and get a few lessons in. Dribble a bit afterward over her muzzle and show her who's boss." "You have to be kidding me." "Course I am. I'd get harder for a half ton elephant chick with a construction worker gut. You? When's the last time you said screw it so you can screw someone?" "Screw this. Snow's stopped, so I'm going for a run." "Damn it, Eric." Wayne thumped to the floor after his fourth attempt to fold double catlike and combine the tasks of shoes with pulling on shorts. "You're doing this on purpose." "I had my shoes tied three minutes ago." "Asshole. I'll do the three miles, but you're listening to me the whole way." They quickstepped down the stairs in twos and hit the side exit back first so their shoulders took the impact. A good number of the campus sidewalks were clear enough for running, but few people were outside for leisure. The more cold adapted species like the foxes, or even the rare bear, battled winter bulk that made normal clothing a chore. Warmer weather species, and the avians in particular, wrapped themselves in heated cloaks and coats. But regardless of genus, fully half the campus appeared to have skipped class entirely. They passed by an equine couple as they turned onto one of the major roads, the guy over two and a half meters easy and the mare a couple hands shorter. Up the hill on the next side road, then left. "Thought you were bitching." "Thinking first. Ever consider what it would be like to nail an amazon like that mare back there?" Wayne jogged backwards briefly to watch a girl across the street headed the other way. "She's probably twice my weight." "Bet that's what all those little pabgs say about almost anyone else. Not personal experience yet, mind you, but I wouldn't kick a shortstack flufftail out of bed." Each potential insult that Eric thought of felt weak, so he picked the simplest. "You need a girlfriend worse than me." "Tell me about it. Like I said, elephant chick." "You're going to get snusnu'ed so hard you'll wake up from the coma still in a full body cast and already married." "At least you'll have the room to yourself. See, I don't give a shit. Half the campus is human, but I'm not going to stop until the girls nickname me Noah. It's got a hole, I'll fuck it. Way I see it is that this hyena chick has had the hots for you, but you're playing harder to get than a priest that thinks his dick is a demon detector. You turn the tables and show her the ladies aren't in charge, and she'll melt faster than this snow under a flamethrower." "That won't save you if she doesn't like the way you talk." "Bring it. How many times you see a chick like her with a hyena guy? Almost none. Sure, it's a bit kinky but everything is the first time." Eric left out more than he explained as Wayne tried to keep up. After dropping their pace slowed, Wayne's mouth got louder and he became an easier target for thrown snowballs or quick middle fingers. An errant bit of slush soaked his shirt. The remembered sensation of muscle and fur pinned behind him warmed him, her hips pushing from behind and forgetting to hide facts. "Maybe I should bring her back after we open evening after next." "Want to double team her?" "Better idea. The blonde in the lead. You come to the play, talk her up after when her boyfriend isn't around, and hope they like threesomes." Stomach acid bit hard at the thought of one more rehearsal and eight performances listening to Rachel without hatefucking her in front of a crowd. After a run-through that Dr. Moore considered a compromise between student talent and his patience, he told the actors and crew to get a good night's sleep and when to show up for premiere. Eric snuck in at the earliest opportunity after classes the next afternoon. According to a stagehand, the women's MUA had asked Julie to arrive hours ahead. How long did it take to brush and condition a coat? The other guys piled in, talking easily about the half full theater. Fifteen minutes to curtains up, and plenty still in the lobby. He shrugged off the impulse to ask if Gavina and Drew had come while scrolling through the revised script on his cellphone. It went back in his bag. No crutches. The curtain rose, and Rachel strode out first in Charlene's daring red bikini. One by one the rest of the cast came out, assembling the drama over the next handful of minutes. A vague incident had driven Charlene to want a daytrip out of the city and away from events. The strains from their upcoming wedding and the earlier one where they'd be best man and maid of honor hadn't improved the relationship. The rest of the wedding party either struggled to keep nerves from derailing plans, or hadn't seen the troubles. Patrice, played by Julie, was the thrice-a-bridesmaid that had become anxious over her opposite, Aaron, and near everything else. She'd be the last out. Half hidden in the shadows, waiting for her cue. Rachel and her scraps of red bikini didn't register as she walked past to stage left, but the spotted hyena nearly jerked his attention before the proper time. They emerged with Julie behind, in character as Patrice. "Couldn't we switch things up? Not like with the shortest guy, but someone less likely to trip like he tied his flipflops together." "Stop whimpering. He's a goofball, sure, but he's...fine. You've got a point." Eric thanked fate near all of his awkward pauses were gone in the rush, and the rest quickly patched by one of the supporting cast chalking events up to Aaron's clumsy nature. On cue, offhand remarks over bridesmaid dresses and shoes turned Patrice into the odd one out. She stormed off to the other side of the stage, soon followed by Aaron. Past the stage, everything was indistinct as they took position. The other half of the stage dimmed, fans reduced the odors of crew and audience, and the small susurrations beyond the stage dropped from their awareness. "Why have you been so afraid?" Eric laid a hand on the soft fur of Julie's sloped shoulder. "Imagine everyone's surprise when you laugh it off." With barely a glance she pushed it off. "Charlene is just as nervous as you, if not more. Julie's bare feet caused the canvas sheet to hiss like fine sand as she stepped away, back now to him. "Dolt. Even if she forgot about me, and then forgot to apologize, it's not getting easier. She's got Greg on her mind continually." "Going by today, three quarters of it is negative. Not that's he's behaving any smarter." His off-handed grin cut to surprise as Julie snapped around. She took a step closer. "So that makes me the ugly bridesmaid?" "Hardly. Girls like her come in ten packs." "Then it's ten to one. Nine others would have enjoyed watching the tenth self-destruct yet again." Julie took another step towards Eric. "I'm the one that wanted more than that, or having you pratfalling for their laughs." "I slipped." "Greg aimed the shot out of reach but too close for a dive." She ate up the remaining gap, not slapping at Eric's hands and their distraction. "He knew." "So I should have given up? What's worse; the honest laugh or the epic tragedy?" The meat of Julie's pads struck Eric square in the chest and spilled him backwards, the one-two cracks swallowed by the theater walls. "Stop living only for other people, Aaron!" "And what should I be living for? Me?" He'd landed harder than intended, but Dr. Moore was right. The original gentle push undercut both characters, and a slow rise from the ground worked in favor of any unscripted pauses. "It's unfair to anyone else in your life if you don't hold something back. Greg and Charlene have been falling apart for months, and you haven't noticed. They're using everyone." "And my role is?" "A jester." Eric circled around Julie, then held her at arm's length. They'd rehearsed this part to death yesterday, working on the body language. "I've known Greg since fifth grade. Getting him to laugh once in a while has been a constant." The audience had been ready for a light joke, not the serious moment. "And you've been in his shadow ever since. Tell me I'm wrong, or tell me I'm pushing you around to make myself feel better." He stepped away but didn't turn. "Forget it." "I don't want to go back and be the same. We could walk around the long way and take your car back to the city." Pause, and on cue Julie looked over her shoulder to where the others would be. "Do you have a spare set of keys?" "One of us has to go back. Else we're trusting them with remembering our stuff." "Fine. I'll go first. Give me a couple minutes. I'll make up an excuse so you can drive me home." "I've got a better idea." This time when he went to hold Julie, his posture was bolder. "We stay. If you're right and we stop supporting them, the problem will hit home." "And just how do you propose to do that?" "We can start with us." Eric pulled Julie closer, and let his hands move downward from her hips to her cup her butt. The hyena had agreed to an additional degree of closeness, but failed to hide her inexperience at the feel of a male in close contact with her. With jerky and hesitant steps her arms dropped, ceasing their attempts to keep her co-star at a length, and down until she'd mirrored him. They held the position for several seconds, sharing the uncertainty of their characters. Finally, Julie's tail lifted and brushed over his hand as it fell back to the midline in a drawn-out sensuality, trapping fingertips that dared the invasion into her personal space. A muffled cough from the audience reminded him this would happen seven more times. Eric's rear hand rose past Julie's back as he turned them from profile to a three-quarters angle, cradling her head as he drew her in. "They can laugh, but I'll laugh last." The kiss was real. On their portion of the stage the lights fell as the ones on stage right brightened, but the events in shadows would be easier the second time.