Playing Favorites – Chapter 13

Jacinda

Fuck winter. 

Fucking fuck winter.

I mean, sure, it’s nowhere near as bad here in California as it would be in other states, but still fuck winter. For the first time of the year, today’s officially too cold for my morning run. I’m no pansy when it comes to the cold, and my tolerance to it is higher than my mom’s, but still: forty-five fucking degrees!

Instead, I opted for having my run on our gym room’s treadmill; I still got my exercise done, but it’s just not the same. Running around the neighborhood is pretty fun: I get to meet my neighbors, do a little window-shopping… and when I go through the parks, there usually are a few pets being walked. You just can’t get the same experience with a treadmill. Running in place gets boring fast, and so does staring at the wall in front of you. I tried using those VR games that make it like you’re running on the beach or on the mountainside or wherever, but they don’t really work for me. Watching videos is a little better, I guess, but I couldn’t find anything good that morning.

Eventually, I decided to videoconference with Judith again. Wowza! By the looks of her, I’m not the only one to curse the winter.

“Hey, Jacinda,” she says with a nasal voice. Her nose is red and her green eyes are bloodshot. She’s lying down on her bed, surrounded by used tissues. Her frizzy blonde hair is a big mess around her head. 

“Hi, Judith. I was gonna ask how you’re doing, but, uh…”

“Yeah, Sandra gave me her cold.” She puts a napkin to her nose and empties both her nostrils with a comical sound.

“Who’s Sandra?”

“This girl I’m babysitting.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were a babysitter.”

“Ab tryigg id oud,” she says. She blows into another napkin, then tries again: “I’m trying it out. So far, I’m not a big fan.”

Judith sneezes, turning her head away from the microphone as she does.

“Do you think it would be legal -hypothetically speaking- for me to give a disease to that kid? As payback, you know.”

“So long as we’re not talking STDs, I think you’re okay.”

“Nah, just cancer or something.”

“Oh well, that’s fine,” I say. “I doubt you’d get in any trouble for giving cancer to a kid.”

We both laugh.

“How are you doing?” she asks. “I can see you’re exercising again.”

“I’m doing great. So I’m guessing you’re staying at home for the weekend,” I say.

“I was considering going to the mall and playing patient zero, but Mom said no. So quarantine it is. Yay.”

“Ugh. Moms.”

“You know the suckiest part?” Judith says. “I had a date this weekend!”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “But I thought…”

“Yeah, that I’d sworn off dating. Well, I did. For like, two weeks. Then, I met Francesco.”

She’d said his name with a light, uncontrolled giggle.

“Francesco, huh?”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to hide her luminescent blush behind her hands. “He’s one of the trainers at that gym I go to. He’s a Werewolf! Tall, athletic… And his hair, holy crap, his hair…”

“Did you ask him out or did he?”

“He did… Basically, what happened was, he was talking with one of the other trainers about a new TV they’ve got for the gym, and where they were going to put it. He said: “I could pin it against the wall.”. And I thought to myself: “I bet you could pin me against the wall.”.

“Let me guess: you said it out loud.” Judith always had a tendency to do that back in high school.

“Very loud. I was wearing my headphones. God, I wanted to die… And then he asked me out to lunch.”

I chuckle. Her smile fades as she grabs another tissue.

“And right on the day of our date, I get a cold.” She fills the tissue within seconds. “There’s no two ways about it: when it comes to dating, I am cursed!” She says that last word very dramatically.

“Ah, come on. It’s just a hiccup. Call him and take a rain check. Unless he’s never been sick before, he’ll understand.”

“That’s the thing!” she says, alarmed. “I don’t have his number! I gave him mine, but I forgot to take his.”

Her head drops back against her pillow.

“God, I’m so duuumb!” Judith cries. “What do I do now?”

“Nah, come on, you’re not dumb. We can fix this.”

“How?”

“You said he’s a trainer at your gym, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, just call your gym, and either get his number from there, or leave him a message, telling him to call you!”

She slaps her forehead, her hand still holding her used tissue. This gets her to shiver with revulsion and throw away the incriminating, snot-filled piece of paper.

“Damn it, what didn’t I think of that? I could just do that. But still, you think he’ll be mad at me for getting a rain check?”

“If he is, he’s not worth dating. Trust me.”

“You’re right. Thank you so much, Jacinda.”

“Don’t mention it,” I say.

“Since we’re on the subject, how’s your dating life? Still no cute boy in sight?”

Do I tell her about the date? I probably shouldn’t. If I tell her, I’ll have to explain that it’s a second date. Then, she’ll ask why I didn’t talk about Christopher sooner. It might hurt her to hear that I don’t consider us close enough for that.

Plus, I would have to bring her up to speed on everything. And how would that even go? Why yes, Judith, there is a boy. I wouldn’t say I’m crushing on him so much as I’m fucking crazy about him. Are we close? I suppose you could say that. Earlier this week, I had his cock in my mouth while he was sucking on my pussy. I guess that counts as us being close. Shit, I didn’t even tell Nova about that. But given how much I stank of Chris’ fluids and he of mine when we crossed her on campus, it’s a safe bet she figured it out anyway.

Ah, great, now I’m thinking about that again.

“Oh my god, there is a cute boy in sight!” Judith says, clasping her hands. “I knew it! You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

“What?”

“That face you’re making! There’s a boy and you’ve got the hots for him.” She underlines that last comment with a sneeze.

Gods, does she and Nova secretly trade notes or something? Fine. I guess that actually makes things easier for me. I press the stop button on my treadmill and clear my throat.

“Yeah, all right, there is.”

“Who is he? Where did you meet? What’s he look like? Is he ripped? What color are his eyes?” she says, shooting questions at machine-gun speed.

“Hold on, hold on,” I say, waving my paws. “First, his name is Christopher Baldini.”

“Is he Italian?” Judith interrupts. “Oh my God, Italians are so hot.”

“I guess?… I mean, I don’t really know.”

“Well, is he hot? What does he look like?”

“He’s, ah, he’s got green eyes, black hair…”

“Is he buff?”

“Pretty buff, yeah,” I say with a smile. “He’s a baseball player. He, um, he’s got tattoos, too.”

What follows is about ten minutes of Judith badgering me with questions on Chris’ physical description. I don’t think there’s a single part of his anatomy she neglected. She even questions me about his feet, and seems a little bummed when I tell her I haven’t seen them yet. Actually, there is one part she forgot, but she was just keeping it for last.

“So…” She smiles broadly. “How big is he?”

“I told you. Like, six one, six two.”

“Yeaaaah, you know what I mean.”

I hold my paw in front of me, think on it for a second, then say:

“About two or three inches shorter than this.”

Judith slaps both her hands on her cheeks.

“Oh my god! Really?!” She giggles. “I was just kidding, Jacinda. You’ve actually seen it? How long have you two been dating?”

“I… Well… We’ve been official since earlier this week, we’ve been on our first date some time before that, but we met at the beginning of the year.”

“Holy cow, you two got that far on your first date?” Judith says. “Hell yeah ! Get some, girl!”

“No, we didn’t- We didn’t have sex.”

“He just flashed you his dick, then?”

“I mean, we didn’t have actual sex.”

She starts jumping up and down, looking suddenly a lot more healthy. Apparently, sexy gossip is an effective cure against the common cold. Somebody get me the WHO’s number.

“Tell me everything! What, where, when, how many times, how much did you like it? Spill, girlfriend!”

I throw my head back and groan. Welp. Might as well unpack the whole damn story, now. I begin my tale at the boob-flashing incident, and from there, I give her a brief account of my… experimentations with Christopher.

“You tried deepthroating on your first beej?” Judith says, interrupting me mid-narration.

“I thought boys liked that.”

“Oh, they love it, but you can’t expect to pull it off on your first try.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“You should have asked me, girl! I could have given you some tips. You’ve got to train your way up to that. It takes practice.”

“I did practice. A bit.”

“Oh, on the dildo I bought you? Told you you’d get some mileage out of it!”

Ah, right, my eighteenth birthday gift. She had “joked” about getting me one for months before, but I insisted I got by just fine without. Gods, to think I opened her damn present in front of my family… Good thing they were cool about it. And by “cool about it”, I mean they poked fun at me all night. Seriously, they made dick-related puns for hours.

Judith is about to ask something else, but another sneeze interrupts her. I take this opportunity to try and change the subject:

“How are classes going?”

“Boring. Too much theory. I want to do something practical!”

“Makes sense that you have to learn the theory first,” I say.

“Sure, but I’d rather just skip to the fun part, like you and Christopher did.”

Smooth redirect. “We didn’t skip- I mean, I don’t think- Wait. Are you saying we’re moving too fast?”

“Oh no, girl, I think you’re going at exactly the right pace. And clearly, your libido agrees.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” I say. “My libido actually seems to be dictating me to go even faster. When he went down on me, I felt like jumping his bones.”

“What stopped you?” Judith asks.

“It was half I was worried I might fuck him to death, half I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

“Not ready? Wait, are you-” She gasps. “Oh my god, you are! You’re a virgin.”

I sigh. “Yeah…”

“Damn, I can’t believe I didn’t even know that about you,” Judith says. “Makes sense, now that I think about it. All through high school, I never saw you hang out with any boys. Well, aside from… you know who.”

“Mhmm.”

“It’s too bad that prick turned you off relationships. With a body like yours, you could have taken over the school.”

“I doubt it,” I say, crunching my nose. “The boys were always scared of me.”

“Well, that’s stupid. If I was a boy, I’d be all over you.”

“… Thanks?”

“But enough with the past!” she says, clasping her hands. “Who cares about those silly boys? You got yourself a man, now! So, what’s next for you two lovebirds?”

Wait. I’m supposed to be exercising. I start the treadmill and go back to running.

“Actually, we’ve got a date today.”

“So that’s date number two?”

“Huh-uh.”

“Cool. What do you have planned?”

“We’re having lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant.”

“And then?”

I hesitate. “Err… That’s it, actually. You think we should do something else?”

She ponders her answer, tapping her lower lip with her index finger.

“Nah. I guess you can just bring him back to your place afterwards and fuck him stupid.”

“I’m not doing that, Judith,” I say, annoyed.

“Why not? Throw some chocolate in there somewhere, and that’s a perfect date!”

“For you, maybe.” I punch up the speed. “Look, you’ve got me second guessing myself. Is a lunch date not enough?”

“It is if you think that’s enough,” Judith shrugs. “Me, personally, I’d do more; I’d milk this date for all it’s worth. Carpe diem, and all that.”

Judith has always been a bit of a hedonist, but apparently college has turned that up to eleven.

“What did you guys do on your first date?” she asks.

“Well… We went to the aquarium. And to the Musée Mécanique.”

“How far did you go on that date?”

“We kissed. Our first kiss, actually.”

“Kissed, that’s it?”

“It was a first date!”

Silence.

“I may have given him a handjob.”

“Ah-ah.”

“And he fingered me in the car.”

“And then you sucked his dick?”

“No, that was later.”

“I thought you guys only went on one date.”

“Yeah, but we met again some time after. It… wasn’t a date. We just, err, had a talk.”

“And one thing led to another and you got down on your knees?”

“I wasn’t on my knees. He was under me, and, uh… Long story short, I was returning the favor.”

“Niiiice,” Judith says, nodding approvingly. “Well, something like that would be perfectly fine for a second date.”

“Can’t we keep the date chaste? I mean, I don’t need to do anything like that. Hell, I don’t need to do anything sex-related at all.”

Hah. Tell that to my lady bits. Ever since Chris’s tongue went spelunking up in there, the fire burning inside them has turned into a brazero.

“Oh, sure, we don’t need sex,” Judith says. “And we don’t need sugar or trans fats either. But who are we kidding? We’re gonna do all of these anyway! Possibly at the same time.”

“I mean…” Yeah, not gonna argue against that. “All right, but it’s just our second date. We should wait until the third date to… get real. That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it?”

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, society?”

Judith blows a raspberry. “Society, schmociety. The only people who get to decide when it’s right to bone down are the people boning down. First date, third date, hundredth date, who cares? So long as it feels right.”

Gotta admit, she makes sense. Hell, I agree with her. And yet…

“So what’s really blocking you, girlfriend?” she asks, tilting her head.

“I don’t know,” I say. But I do. It’s something I’ve been carrying with me for a while now, deep inside, and dating Chris has brought it up to the surface.

“Are you worried he’s just using you for sex?”

“No, not at all.” In fact, that’s never been a worry as far as Chris and I are concerned. Chris is not the kind of guy who’d lead me on. His feelings for me are genuine, as genuine as mine for him.

“Then what is it?”

I stop the treadmill again, having done my daily eight miles. Grabbing my towel, I wipe the sweat off my face.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Judith says.

“I…” I scratch the back of my head. “It’s just…”

“It’s okay, Jacinda. I get it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“… Yeah.” I pick up my smartphone and step down the treadmill. “It’s not you, it’s just really personal.”

Well, that’s only half-true: it is personal, but it is kinda her. Even though I came out and told Judith about my relationship with Chris, I’m still not comfortable confiding in her about that other particular subject. Hell, the only person I’ve ever talked to about it is Nova.

“I get it,” she says again. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Your issue, whatever it is… Don’t let it ruin things with that boy. I can tell you really like him.”

I really do. Although I don’t have much experience in relationships -actually, I have basically none-, it seriously feels like it could become something very special; unique, even. Maybe that’s just the silly, hormones-fueled teenage girl in me who wants to believe that, but… Well, whatever. Even a silly, hormones-fueled teenage girl can be right sometimes.

“Okay. I promise.”

As we finish our conversation, Judith thanks me again for helping her out of her little problem with Francesco, and promises to tell me all about her date, if I do the same with mine.

“Oh, just one last bit of advice,” she says just as I’m about to press the red button.

“Go ahead.”

“Three words. White. Lace. Lingerie. It’ll go great against your dark skin.”

“Goodbye, Judith,” I groan.

All right, time to get ready for my date. First, I have to clear my mind. This whole conversation has gotten me… inspired. Not that I needed much encouragment: Christopher has always had a gift for getting me hot and bothered, but ever since we’d had our “talk” in that storage room, I’ve been on hot coals. What I said to Judith about keeping the date PG-rated was fanciful -and a little bit hypocritical, if I’m being honest. In reality, there’s not a single doubt in my mind that my date with Chris will turn sexual. I’m actually planning on it. Just, uh, not too sexual. Probably.

After a quick shower, it’s time to get dressed. That alone takes me waaaaay longer than it fucking should. Should I wear something fancy, like a dress? Oh, right, I don’t have a single dress, because I look stupid in those. How about a dress shirt? Nope, don’t have any of those either. My choices of tops are: shirts, other shirts, shirts that are now too short but I haven’t gotten around to throw away yet, and shirts I don’t wear because they have tears and holes and stuff. Fine, I’ll just wear something like the other day: a crop top and tight jeans. Yes but no: not only has the temperature dropped from cold to glacial these days, it’s going to rain all day today. Maybe I can try toughing it up? I mean, shit, with all that fur I have everywhere, I should be able to go sleeveless even in winter. Or maybe if I wear a coat?

I end up trying just about all of my clothes before I’m satisfied. That’s actually not saying much. Don’t know why it’s only now that I realize it, but I don’t actually have many things to wear. Not only that, but it’s pretty much all of the same: shirts, jeans, underwear, the end.

Ah, yeah, about the underwear… Judith got in my head. But guess what? I don’t have any lingerie. Hell, I don’t even have any underwear that remotely qualifies as frilly, or risqué. I do have a lot of panties that scream “grandma”. Nevermind, that’s fine. I’ll just forget about it. I don’t need to wear anything out of the ordinary; I wore sports underwear the last few times, and it did the job. Don’t need it. It’s fine.

That being said… Nova and I wear the same size, right? In theory, I could… Nah. Gross. And dumb. And stupid. I mean, she probably does have some really lacey… No. Nope. Nuh-uh. I’ll just-

 

“Come in!” Nova calls out when I rap on her door.

She’s sitting at her desk, typing on her computer. I can’t make out what she’s writing, but it looks like a pretty dense text.

“Heeeey, sister,” I say as I come in, feeling like the dumbest fucking person in the world.

She immediately rolls her eyes in a silent “oh, boy”.

““Sister”? You’re going to ask me for a big favor, aren’t you?”

“Nah, nothing, just, uh…” I dither for a little while.

“Hmmmm.” Nova pushes her bent index finger beneath her lips, and pretends to be deep in thought. “Could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that you have a date today?”

“How do you know about that?” While I did tell her about date number two, and got a big eye roll about me not following her advice and pushing through instead of waiting it out, I didn’t tell her when it would be.

“I have magical mind powers,” she says. “Don’t you?”

“Really funny, Nov. Mom told us it was only the first and second generations of Hellhounds that could do magic -and even they couldn’t do much. Seriously, who told you?”

She does the whole fake-pondering thing again.

“Who told me you and Chris are going on a date today? Hmmm, now there’s a brain-teaser. Let’s see. Only Chris and you knew, but you didn’t tell me… Huh.”

“Chris told you?”

“Now that’s an interesting hypothesis.” She snapped her claws. “Yes, that would explain it.”

“Stop it!” I chide her. “You’ve been talking to Chris?”

“Yes, I was getting curious about this straight sex thing. I’m thinking of getting in on the action.” I groan in frustration. My sister’s humor is only tolerable in small doses. “No, actually, he’s been texting me.”

“About what?”

“Take a wild guess. Here’s a hint: it rhymes with “Schmister”.”

They’ve been talking about me? I have half a mind to ask her to show me the texts, but I’d feel like a jackass, and she would say no anyway.

“So,” she says, “what can I help you with?”

I clear my throat.

“Right. So. Yeah. Um, about my date. I, uh, I was wondering if I could, umm…” My left ear flickers nervously. “I was talking with Judith earlier, and I mentioned my date, and she, well, she suggested that I… Err…”

“What time is your date again?” Nova says, giving her phone a pointed look.

“Noon,” I say. I clue in a second later. “Ugh. Okay, I’ll hurry this up. Judith suggested I… wear something.”

“Something? Something like what? A clown’s nose? You could pull it off. It might go well with your eyes…”

“I’ll pull off your eyes and wear them if you keep these jokes up. Look, she suggested I wear lacy underwear.”

The corner of her lips twitch with barely contained glee. “Did she now.”

“Yeah, and it turns out I don’t actually have any.”

“Hm-hm. Well, it’s a little late to go shopping.”

“I know. That’s why I was wondering if I could… borrow some of yours.”

And there’s that glint of malice I’ve come to dread in my sister’s eyes. She puts a hand under her bed, and grabs a small box which she tosses at me. I open it to find a brand new bra and thong; they’re both lacey and white. My jaw drops.

“What…”

“Happy birthday, Jass.”

I shake my head.

“My birthday is in three months. You of all people should know that.”

“Ah, but that’s what makes it a surprise, isn’t it?”

I place the thong over my sweat pants and look at myself in the mirror.

“I had to take an educated guess for your size,” Nova says. “You’ve got more muscle than me, after all. In fact, it kills me to say it, but you’ve got a better ass than I do.”

That admission makes me feel strangely proud.

“Well, you may have eyeballed it a little,” I say. “It’s gonna ride up my asscrack!”

“It’s a thong, it’s supposed to.” She rolls her eyes.

The bra’s cup size doesn’t look right either.

“That looks tight,” I say.

“It’ll be fine. Come on, try them on.”

I breathe out. Fuck it, might as well.

Shit, I didn’t realize this has gotten me so nervous. My paws are shaking. I nearly tear apart the thong as I put it on. Hmm. Gotta admit, it’s not as uncomfortable as I feared. Also, holy shit, my ass looks straight-up glorious in that. I spend a couple of minutes admiring it from a few angles. What the hell, right? I worked hard for a butt like that.

Okay, now the bra. While the material is rather comfortable, I’m not sure about the size. Somehow, it feels tight around my tits -it’s not so much hugging them as groping them-, and yet doesn’t support them as much as my regular bras. Too much wiggling for my taste. Then again, I don’t plan on running around during my date.

Damn I look good. I look real good. With an ass that looks tighter than a drum and boobs that defy gravity. I do a little twirl in front of the mirror; I look good from every angle! I can just picture Chris’ reaction when I’ll “accidentally” give him a glance. He’s sure to offer me a favor in trade for seeing those in full. Wait, he already owes me a favor, doesn’t he? I kinda lost track. Right, yes, he does: the storage room fling was a freebie, he said. So that’ll be two favors. Oh, he’s so going to be mine…

“This is what you’re wearing?” Nova says, lifting my jeans with her foot.

“Yeah. It’s fine, we’re not going to the freaking opera.”

“I guess not,” she shrugs. “Say, are you meeting him at the restaurant or picking him up?”

“Picking him up.”

“Right. Well, you’d better get going, then.”

I check the time on my phone. Oh shit.

 

“I am. So. Fucking. Sorry.”

I arrive at Chris’ dorm almost half an hour late -which is actually pretty good, considering. He’s sitting on the doorsteps, lying slightly back.

“It’s cool. Thanks for giving me a heads up.”

“The girl is late for her date,” I say. “ Could I be a bigger fucking cliche?”

“Only if you plan on texting all through the date.” He stands up. “Come on. I’m hungry, which means you’re probably ravenous.”

You have no idea, I think as he gets near me and I get a whiff of his aftershave. Caribbean spice rum is a good scent on him.

Thank the fucking gods Baja California is kinda close to our college, because my stomachs is already making sounds that could attract amorous whales. I’m quoting Chris here. True to form, he doesn’t miss this opportunity to poke fun at me. Just you wait, Christopher. Just you wait…

Once at the restaurant, we are greeted by a new waiter, who seats us at my usual table, with Chris at an angle next to me. Apparently, Daniel is on his day off, which means I can’t just order my usual: I have to list each individual meal. Chris starts snickering mid-list.

“You keep this up and I’ll have you for dessert,” I say.

“Thanks for the heads-up, I’ll make damn sure to keep it up then.”

I smile.

Reading the menu, Chris decides to play it safe and order the nacho platter. He takes off his varsity jacket and lays it on the back of his chair. My eyes take in his sleeve tattoos once more.

“Hey, the left one looks longer than before,” I think out loud.

“Yeah, I’m still working on this one,” Chris says, raising his arm above the table. I place my paws on it to examine it more closely.

“When did you start? Must have been recent, I can’t imagine your dad would have allowed it.”

I mentally kick myself. Why the fuck would I mention his bowels’ scrappings of a dad during our date? Thankfully, he doesn’t mind.

“I got my first tattoo literally the day after I got in San Francisco. I woke up in my dorm, and I still couldn’t believe it. Not only did I escape that asshole, but I was in college. I decided to celebrate my freedom.”

“And the first thing you did was get a tattoo?”

“Well, no. The first thing I did was get a burger, some fries, and a supersized chocolate milkshake. Then, on the way back, I spotted this tattoo shop, and I was like: why the hell not?”

“That’s the kind of teenage rebellion I approve of,” I say.

“Hey, it wasn’t just rebellion!” he laughs. “I always kinda wanted to get inked. Plus, the artist said they go well with muscles.”

“Amen to that,” I whisper, my claws encroaching on his biceps. “I take it the bear is for California,” I say louder. “But what’s the eagle eating a snake?”

“It’s part of Los Angeles’ seal. Gotta remember where I’m from. Plus, it’s cool.”

I brush another part of the tattoo with the tip of my claws. His skin quivers a little. I shoot him a smirk. What? You thought you’d be the only one playing today? My thumb brushes a triad of red flowers.

“Roses? That’s cute.”

“Those are lilies.”

Actually, I knew that; botanics may not be my strong suit, but those two don’t look a thing alike. I just wanted to tease a little.

“What do they symbolize? The day you came out?”

“Gay jokes! So original.” I poke my tongue out at him. “They don’t symbolize anything; I just saw the drawing in the tattoo artist’s portfolio and I liked them.”

“I like them too,” I say. He moves his arm, trying to free himself. In response, I drag it more toward me with a toothy smile.

“Um… Do you think I could have my arm back?” he asks. “On account of it’s mine, and I kind of need it and all.”

“One second.”

Taking his wrist in my paw, I turn his hand around and get my nose near its back. Beneath his sweat and his cologne, I can tell he’s a little anxious. And a lot turned on. That’s a good start. Just before I liberate his arm, I poke the tip of my tongue through my lips and give his skin a little lick. He quivers like I just tickled him, and some red paints the upper part of his cheeks.

He manages to recover just as the waiter comes back with my entree -beef tacos- and our appetizers. When we’re alone again, he leans over the table and says:

“So we’re back to that, are we?”

“Back to what?” I ask with a bat of my eyelids.

“To that,” he retorts.

Huh? What’s he-

Fuck!

In prevision of his counterattack, I had instinctively crossed my legs, but that’s not where he was planning to strike.

An iron grip just tightened around the birth of my tail, sending a bolt of delicious electricity all the way up my spine, and making me jump. I try to pull my tail away, but he refuses to let go. He even bats his eyelids at me!

“What’s wrong, furball?”

“You f-”

He gives my tail a squeeze -and not a gentle one-, and my sentence dies in a gasp of pleasure. I barely have time to bite my lip. Did the old couple a few tables over just give me a look? I glare daggers at Chris like I actually want to stab his damn brain. Slowly, I say:

“Let. Go. Of. My. Tail.”

“Ask me politely and I might.”

“I’ll fucki-”

Squeeze. My knees bump against the table, which helpfully covers the throaty moan I made. Gods, he’s good.

No! No, no, no, no! This is not how it’s supposed to go. I’m supposed to have the upper hand, not him! I have to-

Haaanh… Fuck! Fucking fuck, gods damnit. This time, he didn’t just squeeze, he also rubbed the base of my tail. I try to grab his hand, but the muscles in my arms have turned to jelly. I can feel my new thong sticking to my mound; “wet” doesn’t even begin to describe it. This is bad. This is very, very bad. A part of me is already considering giving up the fight. Hell, another part just plain doesn’t want to fight! It wants to… to… Ugh!

Squeeze. Rub. Squeeze.

Did I just whine? I think I did.

“I have half a mind to take a picture of that face you’re making right now,” Chris says.

“Don’t you fucking da-aaaaaah…

He’s just experimented with a new technique: his hand squeezed my tail very hard, while his thumb rubbed it in a zig-zag. I mash food into my face as I mewl, but this time, the old couple definitely heard me. The man is giving me the stink-eye, and the woman looks like she’s about to have a syncope. I try to ignore them, which is made easier by my tail getting squeezed once again.

“That’s how you domesticate a bitch,” Chris whispers. “Treats, pets… and discipline. Soon, you’ll be ready to be taught some tricks.”

Shit! No. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way that infuriating comment alone got me cresting. Gods.

Jerk. Asshole. I want to punch him. I want to kiss him. I want to kill him. I want to fuck him. I want to sink my claws into his cock. I want to take his cock in my mouth again and fill my stomach with his cum. I want to make him my bitch. I want to be his bitch. I don’t fucking know anymore. Stop. Don’t stop. Let go. Squeeze tighter.

My mind is getting overwhelmed by a dizzying haze of pleasure, just like when he spanked me. And just like last time, it’s so fucking good I could lose myself in it. But I can’t. I mustn’t.

“Just ask politely,” he says, squeezing again.

Ugh! Fuck. Just… Whatever. I’ll let him have this one.

“Please l-let go of m-my tail.”

Damn it, why did I have to stutter?

“Please let go of my tail what?” he says.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

“Please let go of my tail, sir,” I growl, baring my fangs.

“Sir? I think you can do better than that,” Chris says, squeezing and pulling on my tail.

Fuck you! I hate you so fucking much right now that I want to stride you, claw off your pants, and ride you until you pass out from exhaustion. That ought to teach you not to mess with me.

“Please let go of my tail… master.”

Oh, Jacinda. Please tell me a shiver of delight did not go down from your brain and straight to your snatch when you called him that. Girl, you’re hopeless.

At least he does release me, like he said he would, though not without a cocky, victorious smile. I fall back in my chair with a sigh, wrapping my tail around my leg to keep it safe from him.

“Good girl,” he says with the most condescending pat on my head. Ugh, not another shiver. Fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to get back at him yet, but it’s gonna be horrible.

It’s only now, as my brain clears up from the lusty fog it was basking in, that I realize we have done all this in public. I mean, we did some stuff back at the aquarium, but we were in a remote place with no witnesses around. The old man is staring at me again, shaking his head with contempt. I can read his thoughts through his eyes.

My stomach turns cold, and my food suddenly tastes bitter. My jaw clenches painfully. The memories start flooding back, escaping my control completely. Shit. Breathe deep, Jacinda. I control my anger, it does not control me. Another deep breath. I control my anger.

Slut.

My paws tighten, and I feel my claws pressing against my palms. Did they say that? Or is my imagination working against me again? No… Come on, Jacinda. Not everyone’s talking about you behind your back, you know that. And even if they were, that’s their problem, not yours. Stop. Stop it. I control my anger, it does not control me.

Slut.

I’m about to jump out of my seat, when a hand lays upon my paw and caresses it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I turn to Chris, whose expression of worry is enough to warm up my insides.

“I’m fine,” I lie. He’s not fooled for a second.

“Come on, you can talk to me.”

I want to. I should. But it’s just so fucking stupid.

“Is it because of those geezers who look like they’re about to ask you if you’ve heard of their lord and savior?”

Heh. “No… I mean, kinda, but…”

“I can talk to them, if you want. Tell them to leave us alone.”

“No, don’t. It’s not their fault.”

Chris tilts his head, looking more worried.

“Are you ashamed of what we just did?”

“I… No. It’s just… It sorta brought up some stuff from my past. It’s not your fault either.”

He pats my hand, brushing the small hairs on its back.

“Stuff from your past,” he says. “What kind of stuff?”

We’re interrupted by the waiter, who delivers Chris’ nachos and my enchiladas, along with my burritos, my salad, and my chicken tortilla soup. I take a bite out of each meal to make sure they’ve been spiced right. Unfortunately, they haven’t, so I ask the waiter for some extra sauce.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Chris says.

Not knowing what to say, I gulp down some soup.

“I’ve been texting your sister,” he says.

“I know, she told me.”

The waiter comes by once again with my sauce. I add several spoons of the stuff to my burritos.

Wait, did my sister mention… No, she wouldn’t. But then why is he bringing this up?

“What did she say?” I ask.

“She said to be careful with you. That you’ve been hurt in the past, by people you cared about.”

A lump forms in my throat.

“Also, she sent me pictures of her cutting a sausage in thin slices with her claws. Very… unambiguous.”

I chuckle. He puts a hand on my cheek.

“Hey, again, if you’re not comfortable talking about it…”

“I am. I mean, I’m not really comfortable, but… Shit, you trusted me with your secrets and… I told you some of mine. Let’s just rip the fucking band-aid off.”

“I don’t want you to feel forced.”

“I don’t. But I want you to know, and if I don’t push through it, I’ll never work up the nerve. Gods, I wish I was old enough to order some booze.”

I take a deep breath, then ponder where to start my story.

“I was never popular with the boys,” I begin.

“Seriously?” he says, his eyes widening with oddly flattering incredulity.

“This was before I had any curves. Before puberty, you could say I wasn’t really girly at all. All the boys saw when they looked at me was this giant, clumsy tomboy with spooky eyes and big claws. The fact that a few of them tried to beat me up and ended up having their own asses handed to them didn’t help.”

“They tried to beat you up? Why?”

“Hell if I know. They were stupid kids, and I was kind of an outcast.”

One burrito down, two to go.

“I was barely doing any better with the girls. To them, I was just a very tall weirdo who dressed like a boy because I look fucking stupid in dresses.”

“I bet that’s not true.”

“You’d lose that bet,” I say. “Heels are also problematic. I tried some at prom, and I ended up fucking up my ankle.”

I tut. That was a pretty shitty night overall. The fact that I had no date was actually the best part. It meant I could just go home when I got fed up.

“Yeah, so anyway… Grade school wasn’t a fun time for me. But middle school was even worse.”

“Because you were outed as a Hellhound?”

“Shit, that was only part of it.” I sigh. “Middle school was when I hit puberty. And the thing is, I was an early bloomer. Early and, erm, visible.”

I push up my boobs with my paws.

“So, pretty much overnight, I went from being the strange, violent, hairy She-Hulk to being the strange, violent, hairy She-Hulk with massive tits. Everything changed, and not in a good way. It was like a switch had been turned in the minds of everyone around me. The boys lost the ability to look me in the eyes, and then they became completely unable to treat me as a fucking person. The girls started speculating about my -apparently very active- sex life. As to the adults…” I exhale wearily. “Yeah, you’d expect the grown ups to put a stop to the slut-shaming of a thirteen year old girl, not take an active part in it.”

He brushes my cheek, his thumb resting on my cheekbone. I take his other hand in my paws.

“Yeah, middle school fucking sucked. And when I made the mistake of trusting my best friend Dylan -my last friend, apart from Nova- by telling her I was a Hellhound, it got worse. It got so bad, in fact, I had to change schools.”

In my head, I see flashes of me in the hallway, hounded, mocked, and leered at by everyone I saw. Of me attacking some stupid kid who catcalled me in the courtyard, the last fucking straw after a shitty day, and being sent to the detention room. Of me screaming at the teacher that it was unfair that I was here and not the other kid. Of me coming home angry-crying, too mad and too sad to speak coherently. I see Mom screaming down the phone. Dad hugging me, holding me close to his chest, with so much pain in his eyes.

“I kept to myself at my new school. I started wearing baggy clothes, didn’t try to make any friends, just basically avoided attention. And that’s how I went through middle school.”

“That’s rough, Jacinda. I’m sorry.”

I grunt. “When I got into high school, I kept to my low-profile policy at first, and stuck to my studies. Eventually, I made a friend, Judith. She’s a pretty great person, the first one I trusted since that cunt Dylan. I never told her I’m a Hellhound, though. She convinced me to join the running team, which turned out to be great in spite of what I feared; before that, I had pretty much decided to never do any kind of activity with kids my age.

“And that’s when I met Xander.”

Speaking that name has me tightening my paw. Chris breathes in sharply. Oh, crap. I was still holding his hand.

“He was my first crush. Basically, the first boy who approached me willingly and didn’t look terrified that I would eat him or whatever. In fact, he acted like he liked me. And after a while, I started liking him back. And soon, he became the first boy I kissed.”

I blink. “Is it weird that I’m talking about my ex during a date?”

“Depends,” Chris says. “Are you still pining for him?”

“Fuck no.”

“His loss. I’m good, go on.”

“Right… Well, turned out that prick Xander fancied himself a player. While he wasn’t busy making out with me, he was trying to get in my sister’s pants.”

“Piece of shit,” he says.

“Yeah. Well, actually, it’s more complicated than that. My sister was aware he was dating me, and went along with it.”

“What?! Wait-”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” I hurriedly say. “Basically, she made it so I would catch them in the act. She wanted me to find out what kind of guy he was.”

“Huh. How did that story end?”

“With my claws around his balls,” I say with a proud smile. Yeah, I know, my parents have always taught me that violence is nothing to be proud about, but…

“Attagirl”, he says. Ah! See? He agrees with me.

“The rest of high school was… pretty subdued. Xander started spreading rumors about me; I’m pretty sure you can imagine what kind. He got expelled for it eventually, but for the most part, the damage was done.”

“Kids can be real assholes,” Chris says.

“Truer words… During my last year, I regularly had to hear “jokes” about how I would show my tits to anyone in trade for beef jerky, shit like that. There was even this one bitch who told people I gave blowjobs for money. Thankfully, I had learned how to tune it out by then. But as far as relationships went, I was pretty sure that was it for me.

“And then, you came along,” I say, grabbing his chin.

“Yeah,” he whispers with a smile. Said smile soon dies. “Oh shit. When I asked to see your tits… I’m so sorry, Jacinda. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright, Christopher. I know it wasn’t like that. You weren’t trying to hurt me.” With a smirk, I add: “Besides, I did show them to you, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” he says wistfully.

Still holding him by the chin, I lean towards him and kiss him full on the mouth. Just a little peck, but it’s enough to get him to smile again. And me, too.

“I don’t know if it helps,” he says, “but you really have no reason to be ashamed of your body. Most women would kill to have one like yours. Those girls were just jealous.”

“Thanks.”

We talk about other subjects as we go on with our meal. Mostly sports, of course. I can’t help but tease Chris on his Giants obsession, and his obliviousness to the scientifically proven superiority of the Rockies. Eventually, we agree to disagree. By which I mean we get each other so worked up we might burst into flames any second. I pay the bill; Chris tries to insist on at least paying the tip, but I won’t hear of it.

“Where to next?” he asks.

I still don’t know, but there’s no way in Hell I’m gonna let the date end now.

“How about we go for a walk on the marina?” I say. The skies are clear today, for the first time in over a week, and the weather is not as cold as it was this morning. Might as well take advantage of that.

Soon, we’re in Emeryville Marina Park, walking hand in hand by the seaside. We don’t do much aside from talking and sightseeing, but it’s still pretty fun. Time flies, and after a while, we decide to get back to my car. But the date is still not over. Not yet. There’s something I want to do.

“Hold on,” I say as Chris is about to open the car door.

“What?”

I pin him against the car and kiss him. The kiss organically turns into canoodling.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say.

“Uh-oh.”

After a flicker on the smartass’ nose, I continue:

“That thing you did at the restaurant…”

His cocky smile stretches across his face. He makes his move, but, this time, I’m one step ahead of him. Before he can blink, he’s once again pinned against the car, my paws securing his wrists. Welcome to my trap. Our heads are barely one inch apart. Our bodies… less than that. 

“Yes. That. Well, I’m afraid I took exception to that. Therefore, I demand payback.”

I feel him getting hard against me.

“Okay,” he says. “How about I finish what I started? You seemed to enjoy it. Especially when I called you-”

“Nope,” I interrupt him. “This time, it’s my turn to have fun.”

I open the car door, grab him by the throat, and throw him on the back seat. His scent invades my nostrils as I lay on top of him and we start making out again.

“Take it off,” I say, grabbing his shirt by the collar.

“What’s the magic word?” Chris asks, smiling impishly.

“Take it off now.”

“Hmm…” His eyes swivel to the right. “Nah.”

I could force him. I could rip his shirt off. But this time, I’m going to try the nice way. I rise up, then lift my own shirt just enough that he can get a peek at what I’m wearing underneath.

“Take it off, and I’ll take mine off.”

One second later, he’s bare-chested.

“Good boy,” I say, patting his head.

He huffs at my stealing his line, but I can tell from the way his cock twitched he liked it anyway. I remove my shirt, then press my face against his chest and take a good whiff.

“What is it about you, Chris?” I sigh.

“Mmmh?”

“If anyone else had tried to make me do or say all the things you made me do and say, I’d have hacked him into little pieces. But you…”

I slide a paw behind his neck and caress his lips with mine.

“When I’m near you, it’s like I have no limits. Like I could do anything.” I kiss him again, and add in a murmur: “I think you make me crazy.”

His hands massage the small of my back, then my ass.

“You make me crazy too,” he admits.

I undo his pants, then order him to take them off as well. Then, it’s my turn. Damn, it’s not easy to get undressed in the back of a car. After some effort, I appear to Chris in my newly bought glory. His underpants can barely contain his erection: the tip of his hardened cock pokes out of them.

“Yeah,” I hear him whisper as he gazes upon my new lingerie.

“You like?”

“I love.”

“Good.”

I approach my chest from his mouth until only a few inches separates his hungry lips from my bra.

“Remove it,” he says, half-ordering, half-begging. Nuh-uh. I want full-on begging.

“What’s the magic word?”

He chuckles, then tries for my tail one more time. I catch his wrists once again, and pin them with one paw above his head. My other paw holds his jaw, keeping his head in place. Then, I teasingly brush my tits on his face. His tongue slides out of his lips, but I move my chest just enough that he can’t reach them. Aww, Chris. Did you just whine?

“Come on,” he bristles. He struggles against me, but quickly gives up. With a sigh and an eye roll, he says: “Would you please remove your bra, mistress, and let me gaze upon thine perfection?”

“How about I give you something better to do with that smart mouth, you brat.”

I lift my bra and shove my left breast in his mouth. Ooooh gods. The way he hums as his lips wrap around my erect nipple. I free one of his hands so my other breast doesn’t get jealous, but instead, he runs it along my abs and goes to cup my mound. His ring finger pushes the damp, lace fabric aside, allowing his major and his index fingers to touch my bare lips. Oh, I love the way his tongue and teeth savor my tit like it’s an ice cream, a delicacy he’s been allowed after having begged for it for hours. Equal parts lust and gluttony.

He’s not holding back, this time: he bites as hard as I want it. His fingers, too, are very anxious to explore every one of my folds like there’s a delicious secret hidden in there. He groans, relishing in my warmth and my wetness. I growl, enjoying his enthusiasm and his thoroughness.

Shit. A dude licks my boobs and fingers my puss, and suddenly I turn into Oscar freaking Wilde.

Fun as it is, this treatment won’t suffice. My libido demands more. I lean back, and take down his boxer shorts, revealing his cock. It jumps a little as my claws get close to touching it. Damn it really is big. I mean, I’m assuming it is; that’s the only one I’ve seen in real life, so I can’t really compare. Pretty sure my pussy is salivating at its very sight. My mind, however…

“We’re not going to have sex,” I blurt out.

Wow. I’m the patron saint of dirty talk.

“Okay?…” Chris says, one of his eyebrows jumping up in amusement.

“Sorry. I mean, not actual sex. What I mean is, not yet. I just- I don’t…”

He shushes me by pushing a finger on my lips.

“We can take it as slow as you like,” he says. Smirking, he adds: “And I like that you said actual sex.”

Well, duh. There’s no way I could possibly be 100% celibate. My ovaries would wrap around my throat and strangle me until I caved in to their demands. Plus, it’s not really that I don’t think I’m ready, not anymore. I think I am. I want to have my first time with him. But I just don’t want to have it here, in the back of my car. It’s too cramped, for one thing.

In the meantime, my lady bits and I agree to a compromise. I gently lower myself back on him, my snatch kissing the underside of his dick. Then, I slowly move my hips back and forth -well, I start off slowly. I feel goosebumps on the inside of my thighs. The pleasure is very different from the other times. I kinda prefer his tongue, if I’m being honest, but this is pretty good too. Plus, seeing him pinned down beneath me, powerless to resist me… That’s just sugar on top. After like twenty seconds of that, my lust has dissolved what’s left of my restraint, and I’m pretty much dry-humping him.

“Holy shit,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his skull. Yes, Chris, yes. Surrender to me.

I start massaging my tits, until I’m reminded that I have a willing boy-toy at my disposal, and put him to work instead. The sounds I make are more and more beast-like to the point where I’m straight up grunting like an animal, but I don’t care. Right now, I’m very much a bitch in heat, and goddamn if I’m not loving every second of it. And Chris is too. Fuck, that musky perfume of lustful enjoyment that comes from him as he gets close…

An orgasm is building up inside me too, inflating every time I move my hips. My whole body heats up to the point where I wonder if my car’s got fire insurance. It doesn’t take long before I’m cresting again, right on the edge of cumming. In my mind, a battle rages on: should I give myself the final push, or stay right there on top of that wave of pleasure for as long as possible? How long can I last? Hell, what’s the record?

Unfortunately, the debate becomes purely academic when Chris’ phone starts ringing.

“Seriously?!” I say. “You didn’t turn it off?”

“I… I forgot,” he says, embarrassed, as he scrambles to retrieve it from his pants. He checks the screen. “It’s Manny.”

“Well, filter it!”

“I told him I’m on a date. He shouldn’t be calling. This could be important.”

I almost scream-growl in frustration, but relent.

“Something had better be on fire, Manny,” Chris says, holding the phone against his ear, “because Jaci- Oh, hey, Viv. What-” Pause. “Oh my God, is-” Another pause. Chris’ face drops, and so does my stomach. “Wait, wait, hold on. Which hospital?”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. What the Hell is going on? Chris picks up his shirt and puts it back on. I do the same.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up. I immediately ask:

“What happened? Is Manny okay?”

“I don’t know.” The hollowness of his voice feels like ice cold water over my skin. “Can you get me to Mount Zion hospital?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Not a single word is exchanged as we get decent and move to the front of the car, nor during the lengthy trip to Frisco. I try to make conversation a couple of times, only to see his expression of alarm and feel like I would only make things worse.

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