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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love Who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait For No One

Chapter 2 - Escape Velocity

Vikki Beausoleil, junior espionage agent and single mother, needed to get to FOX headquarters in the middle of the night. Fortunately, she had an emergency sitter on call that could come in at a moment's notice. Vikki punched in the number after reading it off the list taped to the underside of the handset. The phone at the other end was picked up after the second ring, but she was surprised by the greeting.

"Mistress Frederique's Dungeon, where your pain is our pleasure. Speak, you worthless worm." A deep, commanding, but distinctively female voice boomed.

"Freddy? This is Vikki, Leslie's mother?" Vikki asked, a little confused.

"Oh, Vikki! Hi. How are you?" The voice came down at least an octave, and Vikki recognized the young, bubbly, female skunk who had watched Leslie for her several times in the past year.

"I was calling to see if you could, uh, come in to look after Leslie ... but if you're busy."

"Oh, gee. I've got to apologise, Vikki. I'm out of the sitting trade now. I should have let you know, but I've been so busy setting up the new business."

"Did I hear correctly?" Vikki asked cautiously. "You are 'Mistress Frederique' now?"

"Yeah. The hours are the same and the money isn't as good but there's a lot less stress. I know how it sounds, but it is legal, and it's really empowered me, you know?"

Vikki tried to imagine the short, slight, barely adult and unfailingly cheerful skunkette that she knew as Freddy wearing a leather corset and being empowered with a whip in her paw. She could not do it.

"So you are a, uh, full time dominatrix now?" Vikki couldn't keep a tone of suspicion from creeping into her voice. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh! You mean? No, I never did this when I was a sitter. One career at a time, and I would never spank a child!" Freddy answered breathlessly. "But sitting was a good foundation for the new business. The discipline, the diapers. Males are all just big babies, you know?"

Vikki tried to picture Silver in a harness, cuffs, and one of those muzzles with the little red ball to bite down on, but her imagination failed her again.

"O-kay then. Well, good luck with that." Vikki hung up quickly. What do I do now, she wondered? Mentally, she ran through a list of the people she knew in Ottawa that might be free and responsive. Silver had already been called in, and Tancred Williams was also at the Academy already. Maybe she could drop him with Bill Hanlan and his wife?

She tried calling, but no one answered. Who else? Delores was still in Moscow. Vikki wouldn't let Leslie within ten metres of Joel, the Academy forger. Rusty usually hit the country and western bars on a Friday night, looking for the next Misses Rusty. Gus the dispatcher was too old and Kain Algorath was on duty. Who could she call?

Her eye happened on a large stuffed toy rabbit that Marcel had purchased as a gift for the baby a year ago. It was totally inappropriate for a child below the age of three but it was colourful and he had meant well, so she kept it on a shelf where he could see it when he came over and would give it to Leslie when he was old enough. Seeing the toy gave her an idea. She picked up the phone.

Marcel answered after the fourth ring. He and Geno lived together in one of the former safe-houses on the Academy, far away from any neighbours or endangered species that might be frightened by the noise of their violent love-making. The pair didn't get a lot of calls, usually just when he had a mission or the nearby seismic recording station's operator called to complain that they were upsetting his instruments again.

"Marcel." He said simply, unsure whether he would be taking to Gold or an angry seismologist.

"Marcel, this is Vikki." She got straight to the point. "I've been called in and may be away for a few days, but my sitter has cancelled out on me. Could you come over and watch Leslie until I can make other arrangements?"

"Sure Vik. I'll be right over." Marcel hung up and Vikki headed for the shower. Her apartment was close to the Academy but Marcel would have to hoof it since he still had no license. She should just have enough time to clean up and get dressed before Marcel got here.

* * * * * * * *

At his place, Marcel was standing naked in the kitchen, staring at the silent phone in his paw, wondering why he had agreed to baby-sit. The thought of being responsible for a little person terrified him.

He had not had a good experience with the males in his mother's life, and that had left him doubtful of the whole parenting thing. Geno had never brought up the subject of children, not that he would be able to give her any. Foxes could only breed with foxes; even other canines were out of the question. The thought of adoption had not entered his mind.

"What's up?" Geno asked from the doorway. Marcel looked up to see her leaning on the frame, naked except for a purple garter on one thigh and about five pounds of silver jewellery. Her blonde hair was tussled and her fur was still matted from their latest session of love-making, which the call had interrupted at a critical point by the call. His eyes were drawn down to her full breasts where the still-erect nipples were standing up, hard and pink, and further south, to where the little patch of blonde fur stood out above her ...

"Sorry?" He said, shaking his head to clear it.

"I said what's up? Who was on the phone? Gold? Silver? Platinum maybe?" Geno asked sarcastically.

"It was Vikki." Marcel answered, and saw a momentary look of surprise and perhaps a hint of jealousy cross her face. "She was called in and asked me to baby-sit. I said I'd be right over."

Geno eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I didn't know that you did babysitting." She said dryly.

"I, uh, don't." Marcel replied as he put the phone down in its cradle. "I don't even know why I agreed."

Geno wanted to lash out and say that he had agreed because he still had feelings for the beautiful vixen, but she held her tongue. Since escaping from the Werewolf's island fortress Marcel had made a real effort to be more attentive to her. He wanted to prove that his infatuation with Vikki was over, and that what he felt for Geno was more than just animal lust. Not that there was anything wrong with animal lust, she admitted. Both of them were trying to be more monogamous, but it was difficult in their line of work. Marcel had gone as far as to ask that they always be assigned to the field together, but so far nothing had come up.

"I know that you used to take care of a pack of street kids," Geno said to him, "but have you ever had to take care of an infant?"

"No." He admitted.

"Well, I have." She stated. "I came from a large and close-knit family and I had several younger siblings to take care of when my mother was busy, as well as a dozen or so cousins to baby-sit. Watching babies and toddlers is completely different than looking after older kits."

"I can't call her back and renege on her now." Marcel whined. "She's expecting me there any minute."

Geno straightened up and turned back into the bedroom. "Let's get cleaned up and get going."

"You're coming too?" Now it was Marcel's turn to look shocked. Geno spun to face him with her arms crossed and her tail whipping back and forth impatiently.

"Before, uh, discovering other activities I earned some money as a baby sitter. I even have a certificate from the City of Ottawa for infant care and first aid." She added smugly. "So get your pants on kiddo, we're going sitting."

* * * * * * * *

When the apartment buzzer went off twenty minutes later Vikki was just finishing getting dressed and Leslie had finally fallen back asleep. Rushing over to the intercom she waited just long enough for Marcel to say "Hi" before she pressed the button to unlock the lobby door for him. She was pulling on her shoes when she heard his discrete knock, and she pulled the door open after only a cursory check of the spy hole. Her paw went instinctively for her gun when she saw that he was not alone. When she realized that it was Geno she slipped it back into its holster, but she did not relax.

Geno had made some effort not to dress like a prostitute making a house call, but had failed. The pleated plaid skirt, white socks and blouse she had on looked like a school uniform. The top was two sizes too small and she had neglected to wear a bra, or panties, Vikki saw as Geno bent to remove her shoes before entering. Marcel was dressed in his usual baggy jeans, black hoodie and red ball cap. Vikki saw that he had left the bling he wore as part of his cover identity at home. He slipped his skate shoes off without untying them and entered.

"What is she doing here?" Vikki asked Marcel, while staring straight at Geno.

"Tell her about your lack of experience, and how fortunate you are to know someone with an infant care certificate." Geno replied before Marcel could open his mouth. She stared back hard at Vikki. Marcel turned to say something to her but Vikki spoke first.

"She has a certificate?" Vikki's brows rose. "Issued by the Charles Manson School of Childcare, no doubt." Marcel's maw opened as he prepared to protest.

"Hey, ..."

"From the City of Ottawa and Saint John's Ambulance." Geno interrupted, pulling the certificate out of her cleavage and holding it out over Marcel's shoulder. Marcel turned back to her.

"You didn't have to bring that ..."

"Let me see that." Vikki took the certificate and held it up with her claws, as if contact with the pads of paws would transfer deadly germs. "This was issued ten years ago!" She exclaimed. "Hey, is that really your last name, Wefa?"

"Vikki, I don't think that we need to get into this ..." Marcel was getting a sore neck trying to follow the exchange.

"It's Polish." Geno snapped as she snatched the certificate back. "And I re-qualified just last year, should you care to know." She held out a plastic card with the city's emblem on it.

"When did you take the Infant Care course?" Marcel asked, puzzled.

"While you were in Switzerland banging that slippery Otter." Geno replied, focusing her anger on Marcel now.

"You were at the Market, hitting the clubs and picking up pony boys." Marcel's temper was rising.

"That was at night. The course is run during the day, Einstein. Besides, I said I was sorry for that already. What about that mousette from Belgium that came around looking for you the other day? Do you expect me to believe that you never laid a paw on her?"

"Hey, I've been racking my balls trying to be faithful to you and ..."

"Somebody's been racking your balls, bucko. But if you expect to be getting your pool cue within ten metres of my pockets, you ..."

Vikki could feel the heat coming off of them as they pressed closer, bodies merging as they shouted. Any moment now they would reach critical mass and start ripping each other's clothes off. Vikki tried to reach around them and close the apartment door before it was too late.

"Waaggghhh!" Leslie's wailing from the nursery cut the argument short.

"Now look what you've done." Vikki and Geno both shouted at Marcel simultaneously as they ran down the hall together. Marcel closed the door and followed, shaking his head in confusion.

In the nursery Vikki was bouncing the young kit on her hip and making clucking noises to calm him down. Geno was standing nearby with her fists up under her chin and an eager expression on her face. She was bouncing on her toes excitedly.

"Oh, he's sooo cute! Can I hold him, huh, can I?" Her eyes were wide and fixed on the infant.

Vikki studied the voluptuous cheetah. Her excitement at seeing Leslie made her look younger, like a schoolgirl again, almost. Vikki frowned. Something Geno had said earlier was just filtering through.

"You renewed your certification last year, just before Leslie was born?" She asked Geno. "Are those two events related, or were you planning on starting a sitting service to pick up some extra cash?"

"Uh, well ..." Geno had turned redder than Marcel had ever seen her. "I figured, you know, it's a small community here, not many teenagers with a Top Secret security clearance that you can get if you and Silver wanted to get out in the evening. I was hoping ... I mean I figured if you got stuck and needed a sitter desperately ... not desperately 'cause I'm ... I mean, I know you don't like my style ..." Geno's voice trailed off.

Vikki knew of only one true test of a female's character. She handed the still crying Leslie to Geno.

Geno gasped in surprise and held the wiggly kit up above her. Her mouth was slightly open in a delighted grin and her green eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. Slowly he stopped struggling and looked down at the new face. His cries tapered off to sniffles as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Mama?" He asked uncertainly.

"Who's my big fella, eh?" Geno cooed as she tickled Leslie under the arms. He giggled and wiggled again, happily this time. "Is Weswie a big guy?" Geno asked in a falsetto lisp. "Is 'ou a big guy Weswie?" Geno rubbed his belly with her nose as she finished. Leslie was laughing openly now and clutching at her ears. Vikki regarded them with a small smile on her face. Marcel stood there stunned.

Geno lowered Leslie and hugged him to her chest. The little fox wrapped an arm around each of her plentiful breasts and stuck his head down between them. A muffled "Mama!" came from below.

"Yep." Geno said, as she smiled down on him indulgently. "He's male alright."

* * * * * * * *

It was almost midnight by the time Vikki was shown into Gold's office. She had expected to see Silver, but only the new guy, Dongo Fett, was waiting there. He was wearing his usual ragged jeans, a faded sweatshirt, a wide-brimmed hat and a long coat with the collar turned up. Sticking out of the left sleeve was a shiny metal paw. He held it up in greeting as he remained slouched in his chair. Vikki acknowledged him by raising her own artificial paw, one that looked considerably more realistic.

The Chief of Staff entered before she could ask Fett if he knew why they were there. Tancred Williams took his seat behind the antique hardwood desk and placed two folders on the leather top, one for each of the junior agents. He indicated that they should open them. Vikki turned the cover and stared down at the smiling face of a platypus. The photo was taken from the cover of one of the international financial magazines. The headline read "Taz Wiz Kid does it Again!"

"There is a massive, international engineering project that rivals the construction of the Saint Lawrence Seaway and the Three River's Gorge project in China." Gold began. "It has been going on for some time actually. It's a combined water conservation, flood control and hydro electric project that spans the US-Canadian border, and it is being done by the largest multinational conglomerate the world has ever seen. But it has gone on largely unnoticed by the public, because it is being conducted by the members of the conglomerate under a number of different names in a score of places from Louisiana to Saskatchewan and everywhere between the Rockies to the Laurentians." Gold leaned over and tapped the picture of the Platypus in front of Vikki.

"The project is the brainchild of a brilliant Australian engineer, the platypus Bardo Gaya-Dari. He is a native Tasmanian, or as close as one can get to it, with close ties to the aboriginal community there. He was raised in Europe, trained in the US and has worked mainly in Africa. There are some examples of his work in the file."

Vikki flipped the page and read about a number of innovative and daring water projects the platypus had been involved in. Most were stunning successes, with the exception of a recent project in his homeland, Australia. That one had failed not because of any engineering miscalculation, but because of a legal dispute. His attempt to alleviate the country's annual water shortages by creating the world's largest reservoir had been blocked by environmentalists and, strangely enough, other aboriginal tribal groups. Although the Australian government had backed the plan, the nation's Supreme Court had upheld the rights of the natives to veto any development on their tribal lands. The project had died, but not before the platypus had invested most of the fortune he had built up. He had left Australia heavily in debt.

"After the Australian fiasco Gaya-Dari realized that gigantic projects in democracies often face insurmountable legal obstacles and delays." Gold continued. "So this initiative was set up as a series of separate projects. Each dam, dike, ditch, and canal has been filed for separately and the land clearances purchased separately. Yet, in the end, they will connect up to form a massive water control network. It is mainly being financed by him and his conglomerate, so the risk to the governments of Canada and the USA are minimal."

Vikki turned another page and found a number of glossy financial reports with pictures and biographies of the various corporate officers. She noticed that that all the members of the conglomerate seemed to Native Americans, the heads of aboriginal business groups: Choctaw alligators from Louisiana, Cree beavers from Canada, Sioux otters from the Dakotas, and Ojibway bullfrogs from Minnesota. The platypus had considered the environmental angle as well, each power project was proposed as an alternative to carbon-based fuels, and each reservoir was declared a safeguard against climate change effects. No protests had been filed against any of the projects to date.

"These are all tribes that lived in or on the water." Fett spoke up. "There are no dessert tribes, no mountain or forest dwellers." So he had noticed that too, Vikki thought.

"Makes sense." She commented. "He goes where the water is, or was, and that's their ancestral territory."

"So why did he have such a hard time in Oz?" Fett wondered.

"He was going to capture the monsoon rains and keep them from running off." Gold answered. "The result would have been an inland sea where none has been before, and the inland tribes, kangaroos and wallabies mostly, didn't want their land to be under ten metres of water. They don't swim so well according to Doctor Jones." Doc Jones was the Academy Infirmary's Chief Surgeon and an expatriate albino wallaby formerly with the Australian Special Forces. Gold continued with the briefing.

"There are many government departments on board, on both sides of the border. Transport, Environment, Energy, Resources, and most especially Public Safety here and Homeland Security in the US. Both water and power are strategic resources, and flooding in the Red River and Mississippi valleys costs each of our nations billions. There is a lot of political pressure to see that this project does not fail. That is where FOX comes in. The security officer for the project was on secondment from the RCMP." Gold explained. "He turned up dead this morning. He was murdered."

"Are they certain it was murder?" Vikki asked

"Yes. He was found in the middle of the Badlands on the Montana - Saskatchewan border, in a virtual dessert, a hundred kilometres from the nearest water, but he was drowned. Half of his skin was ripped off too."

"If he was attacked by a predatory species we should be able to identify it from the wounds, shouldn't we?" Fett enquired.

"Normally, but in this case there were shallow claw marks but no tooth marks. Lots of species have small claws, even the more sedate ones. All we know is that he was killed in the water and dumped on dry land, hundreds of kilometres from the project offices in Prince Albert." Gold leaned back. "His last report, filed just yesterday, hinted that something was not right, and that he was coming back to Ottawa to consult with some experts. But with who and about what we do not know. The project engineers have found nothing amiss, but the murder raises the possibility of sabotage or industrial espionage with malicious intent."

"What could be done to a project of that scale that the engineers couldn't detect? With all the safety features built into stuff like that you'd have to make a pretty big hole to cause any real damage." Fett noted.

"The recent cyber attacks on US infrastructure have shown us that even simple network details and control codes can be devastating, in the wrong paws." Gold explained. "Open a gate here, a valve there, let the pressure build, and voila! Instant disaster. The water's gone, along with several small cities, and all the generating capacity too." Gold shook his head. "The repercussions are too great. That's why it's being treated as a national security issue."

"Are the security officer's files still intact?" Vikki asked.

"His office was sealed by Gaya-Dari himself." Gold answered. "He reported that everything appeared in order, but that's something you will have to confirm, Beausoleil." One of Vikki's tasks on the Biker Squad had been to examine records and electronics to coax evidence out of them. Since joining FOX they had taught her many new ways of tampering with both. She would know what to look for and be able to determine if anything was missing or had been altered.

"Why us, I mean, why FOX?" Fett asked.

"Normally the RCMP would send a team in, but because of the project's importance, and the need to keep a low profile, the Minister of Public Safety has asked us to step in. The RCMP is pissed, but given your police background they are slightly mollified. However, the incident has been an embarrassment and they can't wait for us to step on our dicks, so to speak, so they can take over again. But there will not be time for that, as we have just learned that the inauguration of the project has been moved up to three days from now. Something to do with the storms that are coming. You two need to be on a plane first thing in the morning."

"At the risk of sounding repetitive, why us, meaning why us two?" Vikki indicated herself and Dongo Fett. "What about Silver, isn't he involved in this?" She wasn't surprised to be picked for this mission, given her background, but she had expected to be working with Silver. As the last senior agent in FOX he was always in charge of the field teams.

"Silver is not available for a mission right now." Gold replied in a tone so neutral that it had to be fake. He turned to address Dongo. "I know that you are a sniper and heavy weapons specialist, Fett, but it's time you diversified. While Beausoleil looks inside I want you to look around outside, in case some local radical has decided to disrupt the project. You'll also be Beausoleil's backup." Gold turned back to Vikki. "They know we are sending you in, but not about him. He is your ace in the hole, so play it close to the chest. We are re-running all of the background checks on the project staff and will forward them to you. For now, trust no-one other than the project leader himself."

The Chief of Staff went on to explain how they would keep in contact with headquarters and each other. He gave them the codes they would need, and made them memorize them. He sent Fett off to be briefed on his cover story, and asked Vikki to remain behind for a moment longer.

Once Fett had left the office Williams leaned forward with a concerned expression on his face. "How are you with this Vikki? Not too much for you to handle on your own?"

"It's no different than the Casino job." She said, referring to the night she and Marcel had defeated the Werewolf Timoshenko and stolen his missile control centre plans. "But why Fett? He's an unknown quantity. Why not Marcel? He and I are used to working together, and I can trust him."

"Marcel and Geno have asked to be assigned as a team, and they are not suitable for the environment." Gold replied indulgently. "You are going to northern Saskatchewan, which, if you didn't know, is about a hundred years behind Ottawa culturally. Prince Albert is full of oil patch workers and miners in from the camps and out to burn off a few months pay. Then there is an even tougher bunch, the prospectors, freelancers, hunters and guides. Waiting in town to relieve all of them of their hard-earned cash are the gamblers, hookers and con artists. Marcel and Geno would not fit in. There is not a lot of call for Pro skateboarders there, and she doesn't want to pose as a prostitute anymore. Fett came from a similar environment, before his army days, so he should have no problem blending in. He is going in undercover as a wildcatter who lost his arm in an oil well blow-out turned prospector."

Vikki had to admit that the taciturn fox and very casual dresser would be a better choice, and likely to live longer in that environment. She just hoped that he would be ready if she needed him.

Vikki stopped in the Operations Centre to make a phone call before going to the storehouse to pick up the gear she needed for the mission. She had told Marcel that she would call as soon as she got out of the briefing. As she told him how long she expected to be gone and how to get messages to her most of her mind was wondering what was up with Silver not being on this mission.

He had been called in for it before her, of that she was certain, but something changed between one call and the next. She reviewed the evening up to that point, recalled the expression on Silver's face that she had taken for worry or pain. What if it was both? He had been acting differently lately, squinting a lot, rubbing his temples, often turning the lights down, and her stock of Tylenol was disappearing faster than normal. He wasn't a young fox anymore, and he had put on a lot of mileage over the years, but he was such a force of nature that Vikki assumed he would be around forever. However, he was the one who kept saying that they should not marry because he may not be around to grow old with her. Now Silver was 'unavailable' for duty, or was it that he was unfit for duty? Had he been hiding something all along?

Marcel had asked a question about Leslie's crib that she had not quite caught. "Sorry Marcel." She said, still thinking of Silver. "Look, Leslie will be fine. Silver fixed the crib so he can't climb out. Once he settles down he'll sleep through the night. Just keep the noise down, you know?"

"Sure Vik. We'll be as quiet as mice, ninja mice." Marcel promised.

Vikki had her doubts, but what choice did she have at this point? "Just drop him off at the Academy Day Care before you go to work, I've arranged for them to feed him and bathe him during the day so all you to have to do is play with him and put him to bed at night. Think that you can handle that?"

"Sure. Geno has done this all before. He's in good paws."

"One more thing Marcel ..." Vikki was not sure how to say what she wanted.

"Yeah?"

"Keep an eye on Silver for me." She said in a rush. "I worry about him."

Vikki hung up before Marcel could ask her for an explanation.

* * * * * * * *

Back at Vikki's apartment Marcel hung up the phone with a shrug. He was standing naked in her kitchen, shivering because she kept her apartment so cold. He and Geno preferred to keep their place warmer, due to their tendency to walk around naked. They also liked a view, and their inclination to leave the curtains open also had been a problem when they too lived in a public apartment building. Moving into a former FOX safe-house, with one-way glass in all the windows, had solved that dilemma. He ran back to the bedroom hurriedly and leapt under the covers as soon as he could.

Vikki liked the apartment cool, and the bedroom cold. She also liked to be warm in bed so she had a massive, thick, down-filled comforter on the king-sized bed she shared with Silver most nights. Geno was already curled up under it, luxuriating in the warmth. Marcel slid up against her, but the chill on his fur from being out in the cold apartment made her gasp and move away.

"Jesus, I just got warm." She hissed.

"Sorry." He replied, and then stuck the cold pads of his left foot on her inner thigh where the fur was sparse.

"Meowch." She squealed, curling up in a ball to protect herself. She sensed his other foot approaching and kicked out in defence. She was rewarded by a muffled curse from Marcel. He put his cold paws where she had connected and cursed again.

"Was that Vikki on the phone?" She asked sweetly

"Yeah." Marcel repeated their conservation for her.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Geno wondered.

"About being quiet? Everybody seems to think that we argue and fight a lot. Maybe we do get a bit vocal." Marcel admitted.

"No, about looking after Silver for her."

"I don't know. Is something wrong between them? They have a fight maybe?"

"I don't think so." Geno mused. "But it's strange that he's not going on this mission. Has he ever been grounded before?"

"Only after being hurt real bad a couple of times." Marcel had read what records he could of Silver's earlier missions, to learn from them as well as to understand the older fox better. On one level he wanted to be like the confident, skilled senior agent. On another he would love to find something Silver had really screwed up on so he could bring it up the next time Silver got on his ass about his shortcomings. So far he had not found anything, details like that were restricted to senior personnel. But he was trained to pry secrets out by coercion, seduction or theft, and he was certain that he would find something eventually.

"Like after you rescued him." Geno noted.

"Yeah." Marcel remembered seeing Silver in the allied hospital while he was still in a coma. The old fox's body was criss-crossed with scars from previous torture sessions, and punctuated with a half dozen bullet wounds. The doctors had briefed him and Gold about the internal damage the torture by felatio had caused. Marcel shuddered at the memory. He had avoided blowjobs for months after. He also recalled the surgeon commenting on the likelihood of Silver having a shortened sex life, if he wasn't impotent already.

"I saw Silver going into the hospital today." He told Geno. Now he was worried.

Geno could sense Marcel's concern in his sudden silence. "Ah, the guy's a tank." She said, hoping she sounded convincing. "I'm sure it was nothing. They probably have to force him to go in for his check-ups."

"He had a check-up just last month." Marcel said in a low tone. "So if he went in so soon afterwards there must be something ... wrong."

Geno had to admit that it didn't look good, but it would not do any good to have Marcel moping about worrying either. Fortunately she knew a sure-fire way of distracting him.

Marcel, deep in thought, did not hear the rustle of the comforter as her paw slid across the gap between them. But when it cupped his balls he noticed. He jerked a bit at the unexpected contact, but he soon relaxed. Her paw was warm and gentle as she massaged his testicles. He reached out, found her breast and began to stroke it.

"We have to be quiet," he reminded her, "so's not wake Leslie."

"Don't worry. I'm an expert at making out while little brothers and sisters are asleep in the next bed." She whispered.

Marcel was tempted to ask how she had learned that skill but decided to avoid that particular fight. Besides, her paw had moved up onto his cock and she was tracing little patterns on it with the tips of her digits, and it felt very good. He lay back with a sigh and enjoyed the sensation.

Geno slid closer, until they were snuggled together under the warm comforter. She encircled his prick and squeezed it rhythmically. Marcel continued to massage her breast as he leaned over to kiss the corner of her mouth. The kiss lingered and grew until her whole mouth was against his. Her squeeze turned into a stoke as he grew in her paw.

His paw left her breast and moved to caress her throat. He slid his other paw under her and traced her spine with the tips of his claws, down to the base of her tail and back again. Their tongues entwined as their mouths wrestled for position. Marcel, and Geno, felt him grow stiffer. She switched paws so that she could caress his balls again at the same time.

Marcel ducked his head and took one of her stiffening nipples between his lips. He sucked gently on it and flicked the tip with his tongue. He used his paws to press her breasts together, bringing the nipples close enough for him to switch from one to the other without moving his head much. In a moment they were both up and hard, and he tried to poke them back into their furry nests with the tip of his tongue.

Geno shifted around underneath the comforter until she was on her knees between his legs. Her paws were still massaging his prick and balls, but Marcel had to strain to keep her breasts in his mouth. Geno continued to pull away and he was forced to release them, but she sucked his tongue half out of his face as her mouth passed over his. She continued to kiss, lick and suck on him as her head traveled downwards. She nipped his throat, sucked on one of his hard nipples, nibbled on his navel. By the time her tongue was digging furrows in the downy hairs on his abdomen it was clear where she was headed.

Geno tilted her head, aimed his penis and in an instant her warm moist lips engulfed it. The inside of her mouth was wet and steamy and it slid easily into her. She wrapped her tongue this way and that around it, careful not to let the rough surface scratch, yet. She pressed her head down onto it until he felt his tip enter the narrows of her throat. Then, with her lips wrapped tight around it, she drew it back. She did not stop until the tip rested against her lips. Then she did it all again.

Marcel clutched at the sheets in an effort to hold back as his prick slid in and out. In the total darkness and silence underneath the comforter only his sense of touch was being stimulated, and that was being overwhelmed. Suddenly he was finding it hard to breathe. He pulled the covers down to expose his head and gulped the cold bedroom air.

Geno had one paw under his balls, rolling them together, and the other paw clamped around the base of his cock, keeping him from coming until she was ready for him to. Her face bumped against it with each plunge. Now she was twisting her head too, so her lips corkscrewed up and off his prick before she slid it back into her throat. He was slick from her saliva, and the skin covering his cock felt like it was going to split if it did not stop growing.

Geno paused as her moth came off him. She traced the slit in the end of his prick with the tip of her tongue. She released his balls and pulled the comforter down until her head stuck out. Marcel could see that she was grinning as she lifted first one long, smooth leg over his hips, and then the other. Kneeling astride him, she tilted his prick up and started to lower her hips down onto it. Just as his eager tip touched the moist cavern entrance she stopped, and whispered to him.

"What do you say to this, big boy?"

"Mama?"

Geno and Marcel both froze, not even daring to breathe. Their eyes swivelled to the side of the bed where the tiny voice had come from. In the glow of the hallway nightlight coming through the now-open bedroom door they could see a pair of pointy red ears sticking up. Form her elevated position Geno could see the inquisitive grey-blue eyes below them.

"Mama?" Leslie asked again. Geno could swear that there was a threatening note in the infant's tone, like he was asking 'what have done with my mother, you bastards'. She suddenly remembered the position she was in and she pulled the comforter closed around her, leaving just her head sticking out. Marcel's erection had disappeared.

"I thought you said the crib was fixed." She whispered harshly at Marcel.

"That's what she told me." He hissed back. "Silver fixed it so he couldn't climb out, she said."

"Silver's a spy, not a carpenter. Go put him back and check it out."

"Me?" He complained. "I'm naked!"

"And I'm not? At least you're a male too. I know, wrap the sheet around your waist."

"I'll freeze. Give me the comforter."

"The comforter is mine."

"MAMA!"

"Shush, shush, Leslie. Mama had to go to work and she asked Uncle Marcel and me to stay with you." Geno pleaded with the infant in a soothing voice.

"Don't call me 'Uncle'." Marcel muttered, remembering his abusive step-father, 'Uncle Yurgi'.

"Shaddup. You're upsetting the baby." She hissed back. Then she switched back to her nice voice and addressed Leslie. "What do you want Leslie? Tell Geno what it is you want." She got no response. Remembering her earlier encounter she tried another tactic. "Is 'ou hungwy Weswie? Is 'ou gotta go potty?"

"Wawa."

"Wawa?" Marcel asked puzzled. "What's wawa?"

"Its Mama spelled upside-down." Geno said in a deadpan voice, and then exploded when Marcel still didn't catch on. "Its 'Water' you dickhead! He's thirsty! Get him a glass of water and put him back to bed!"

Marcel reluctantly complied, pulling the sheet around him as he rolled out of bed. Taking Leslie by the paw he guided him to the bathroom where the cup identified as his sat beside the sink for just such an emergency. After taking a few sips the toddler held it up to Marcel and insisted that he "dwink" also. Once Marcel had obeyed Leslie allowed the older fox to lead him back to the nursery. Inside the crib Marcel found the large stuffed rabbit, his baby shower gift that he had taken down off the shelf so Leslie could sleep with it, propped up against the bars. Leslie had obviously used it to climb up and over the rail. Marcel removed the rabbit and all of the larger toys, leaving Leslie with just his pillows, and a teething ring.

"You go to sleep now." Marcel told him, not unkindly. Despite being the cause of two untimely interruptions in Marcel's sex life so far that night he thought that the kit was kind of cute. The tyke's eyes were already closing. He tucked Leslie's blanket under the little fox's chin and padded back to the master bedroom.

"He all settled in?" Geno asked as Marcel slipped under the comforter.

"Yeah, already asleep." Marcel sighed. "He had climbed a toy I gave him to escape. I guess we will have to be more careful with what we put in his crib. He climbs like his daddy."

"See, you're learning already." Geno leaned over him and smiled in the gloom. "Keep it up and you'll be fit to be a daddy yourself."

Was that a hint, Marcel wondered?

"Now, where were we?" Geno muttered. "Oh yeah, I remember." Still under the comforter, she swung her leg over his torso and sat on his abdomen. "Somewhere around here I believe. But ..." she said in mock surprise as she reached behind her to take his flaccid penis in her paw, "something is missing!"

"I sortta lost the mood when we were interrupted." Marcel admitted. "Especially when you called me a dickhead."

"Oh, come on." Geno crooned in the sweet voice she had used on Leslie a few minutes prior. She leaned down and brushed his lips with her nipples, encouraging him to take them in his mouth again. "You're just jealous 'cause he got all the attention there for a minute." She lowered her voice again and crooned in his ear. "You let mama Geno take care of her special guy."

Geno nipped his ear, rubbed her breasts against his face and continued to fondle his prick while whispering breathlessly. "Is 'ou a big fella, Marcel?" She squeezed his cock. "Not yet, but getting there." She shuffled backwards so that his stiffening prick rested between the cheeks of her well-rounded ass. Pressing it against her, she rolled her hips to rub it with them. "Is 'ou my big boy, Marcel? Is 'ou having a growth spurt?" She sat up, trapping his cock between her butt and his thighs. The comforter slid down, exposing them to the chilly air, but neither of them felt it.

The bedroom door was still open and his eyes were used to the darkness now, so Marcel had no problem seeing her by the glow from the hallway nightlight. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth was slightly parted as she looked down at him. She was leaning back on one arm and caressing one of her breasts with the other. As he watched, that paw drifted down to the tuft of yellow fur just above her sex. Hesitating a moment, she slid one digit down and along the slit. She pulled it back, and when she repeated the motion the slit parted to reveal its pink interior. The third time she did it the tip of her digit disappeared between the swelling lips. The fourth time the whole digit disappeared.

"Is 'ou hungwy, Marcel? Is 'ou gonna come here and get fed by Mama?" Geno was panting.

Marcel's prick was a steel rod straining behind her, but a little snack never hurt.

"Yes he grunted, struggling to sit up under her.

"Sorry? Did 'ou say 'ou were hungwy?" She pressed him down with the paw she had been leaning on, still working her twat with the other.

"Yes, I'm hungry."

"Hungwy." She corrected.

"Hungwy." A tiny voice agreed from the doorway.

* * * * * * * *

Six hours later, a very tired and frustrated black fox packed Leslie's day bag while an equally frustrated Polish cheetah changed his diapers and dressed him for daycare. Vikki had been inside the restricted area preparing for her mission and unreachable by normal phone. Marcel could have contacted her through the Ops Centre but he was reluctant to admit defeat. Now, surveying the damage to the nursery, he was even less inclined to call her.

On returning Leslie to his crib the second time Marcel had found the pillows piled up against the bars. He had removed all of them. The third time Leslie had removed the bumper pad that encircled the inside of the crib, to keep him from bruising his little head, and folded it up to climb up and out. The fourth time Marcel had folded his mattress in two to get the necessary height to reach the rail.

Marcel was not very good with tools, but he used those he could find in Vikki's closet to secure a mosquito net to the rails. Thirty minutes later the net had a large hole in it and Leslie was out. Marcel wove nylon cord around screws drilled into the frame of the expensive foreign crib next. It took Leslie an hour to chew through it. Finally, in desperate frustration, Marcel had taken the changing table and screwed it down on top of the crib. Let's see him chew his way through two centimetres of Formica and particle board, he thought with exhaustion-induced glee. It was four fifteen according to Vikki's bedside clock when he settled in again, all thought of sex long driven from his mind, and fell instantly asleep.

It was five thirty five when Leslie tugged on his nose and cried in a loud plaintive voice, "Hungwy!"

Marcel had killed several times as part of his work, and once in defence of his pack of street kids, but he found himself contemplating recreational murder for the first time in his life. Fortunately for Leslie, Geno's motherly instincts would not allow it, and they spent the last hour before the alarm went off sitting in the nursery, watching Leslie sleep peacefully.

Marcel had to remove the table to put the kit back in his crib. How the hell did he get out, he wondered? Has Silver been teaching him advanced escape techniques? Should I x-ray him for lock picking tools hidden in his orifices?

"We need professional help." He mumbled to Geno as they locked the apartment and headed for the Academy. Leslie was happily gurgling in a backpack baby carrier behind him, and pulling hard on his ears.

"You mean like a sitting service?" Geno asked wearily.

"No." He said harshly. He would not go down in defeat to a twenty-two pound Houdini in one-piece jammies. "We need Joel."

Geno stopped him on the path and looked at him in shock. Images of the bondage and discipline magazines Joel, the Academy forger, left lying around his workstation filled her mind. He claimed to own every type of restraining device that could be fashioned with black leather, rope and rubber.

"Good God, Marcel!" She exclaimed. "Not our Joel?"

"Yes." He replied firmly. "Joel the Lemur."