_What_Bunnies_Are_For_-_Part_2_

        "How did you know my name?" Jamie Mullens demanded.
        Tabby giggled and wagged a finger. "We've been keeping tabs
on you," she replied, her voice teasing again. "You've been a member
of the Wobblies for three years since you lost your last job. You've
worked in the tracking office at People Not Furries for a little more
than one year keeping tabs on poor, innocent people who haven't done
a thing to you, but you've only watched those who've knuckled under
to the group, not the ones they want to hurt some more. You've never
hurt anybody for them though and you're here tonight for the IWW.
Otherwise we wouldn't have let you in the club!"
        As she spoke, she slowly approached the young man. Within
arm's each now, she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're a
Catholic," she went on. "You work part time at the church and do odd
jobs to help your mother. You've lived her with since your last job.
Jamie, you're such a nice guy!" she added, concern in her voice and
features. "Why would you want to belong to a terrorist group like
PNF? They're very violent, hateful people! You're not like them."
        "And how would you know what kind of guy I am?"
        "I served you. I can tell," and she sang a bar of the torch
song that had upset him before. "Jamie," she added, (as he started to
blush), "would you mind if I changed? I like my work, but the costume
is a little tight. And could you unbutton me, please? It's quicker
that way."
        Jamie looked as if he'd been poleaxed. "I'll... uh... just
wait outside...."
        "No," she said, quickly grabbing his hand. "Please stay. It's
okay, I have a fur coat on underneath, remember? <giggle> Really,
nothing shows, especially from behind. Please, Jamie?"
        Mullens hemmed and hawed and shuffled his feet. Tabby held
his hand and gave him a vulnerable-little-girl look. "Awright," he
said, finally, "turn around." She did so; he started at the top.
        She'd understated how tight her costume was; he had to fight
to get enough slack to undo her buttons! He knew he was pulling the
soft, silky fur underneath; he couldn't help it. Tabby flinched, but
she kept still and never complained. A familiar smell rose from the
costume as it came undone, lightly musky like a new fur coat with an
undertone of perspiration; the same as the scent on her room card.
The last button was at the base of her cotton-ball tail; he had to
push it aside. The fur there was downy, very soft and thick.
        When the last button was undone, Tabby immediately pulled the
costume down and stepped out of it, releasing a gust of her scent.
She took a deep breath, raising her arms above her head, and turning
towards the closet. This gave Jamie a view of her front. Sure enough,
there was thick fur in her cleavage that hid the shape of her breasts
and that between her legs was the same colour as the rest of her.
She sighed gratefully and rubbed her sides as she went to the closet.
She put on a pink robe with powder blue trim, then returned to her
guest. Jamie was still looking her over, fascinated by her form.
        "I can leave my robe off if you want to look...."
        Jamie blushed and looked way, putting his hands before him.
Tabby giggled prettily at the display.
        "Please have a seat, Jamie," she said, indicating the coffee
table. "We have a lot to talk about."
        "I don't know what I have to say to a furry blackleg."
        Tabby seemed hurt by the remark, and disappointed. "You came
to observe the mansion in operation," she replied, seriously. "You
must have a lot of questions. You're here so that I can answer them.
Would you like some water or coffee before we start?"
        "Uh, no, thanks," he replied, taken aback by her sudden
change in tone. He sat, while she opened the wardrobe. It contained
a large, flat-screen TV hooked to a computer terminal and converter
with a reply module as well as several books, CD-ROMs and data cards.
There was also a coffee maker, mini-frige, microwave and small water
chiller; Jamie noticed the water bottle said Perrier. Every flat bit
of space was taken up with Polaroids. Like the ones on the walls,
they showed human men and a few other furries. One could have been
the wolf he'd passed on the way up. He also saw the camera that had
taken them and several packs of film.
        "You, ah, like pictures."
        "They're some of the customers I've invited up here. I keep
them to remember my friends."
        "Friends?" He looked around the room. "You have an awful lot
of friends!"
        "I've made love with quite a few customers," she said, as she
poured water into a pitcher and gathered glasses. "Some of them, the
nice ones, I remember. I think of them when life gets rough, it helps
to remember the ones who loved me when I have to deal with rude or
nasty customers."
        "I guess some of the johns can be rough."
        Tabby froze at that. She picked up a Polaroid of a man with
dark skin, hair white and sparkling eyes. "I'm no prostitute," she
said, her voice near choking. "I don't have to bring customers up to
my room. I do because I like to. I was made to be affectionate. The
mansion knows I'll entertain their customers, they don't tell me who
to bring up. Sometimes I make a bad choice...." She put down the
photo and turned part way back, but couldn't quite face him. "I'm not
a robot, Jamie! I have feelings, you can hurt me!" Her long ears had
sunk to half-mast. She bowed her head and shivered, as if frightened
or in pain. "It hurt when you called me a prostitute."

                                (Continued)
Copyright 1995 Allan D. Burrows
All Rights Reserved after publication