A Girl's Best Friend
WARNING, WARNING-----------
This is a sequal to the story "Nice Guys Finish Last." Please read that first so this story will make sense. Or you can try it as a stand alone, but if your brain melts from confusion as a result, don't blame me. As always this story is copyright Radical Gopher... etc. etc. Enjoy.
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A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND - Radical Gopher
Abigail Ross always took in a slow, deep breath before opening her eyes. Normally when she did she could smell the lilacs and heather that filled the planters in her room. This morning however, something was different. Another scent, strong and musky, but in a good way was hiding that of her plants. She sniffed again and felt something tickle her nose pad. Opening her eyes she was confronted with a wall of red fur.
Pulling back carefully she found herself spooned together with a handsome todd of twenty some odd years of age. She didn't remember how old he was, but at the moment it didn't really matter. She watched him for a long time, gently rubbing a knuckle under his chin. His breathing was deep, slow and regular without the slightest hint of a snore. The kind of breathing that accompanied complete exhaustion. Well, why not. They had made love no less than five times last night, and the best part was they each were working hard to make it special for the other. She smiled.
Her hand moved from under his chin and brushed back and forth across the welts on his neck. Sam must have been crazy to take on the white tiger-morph. The bastard was not only bigger and stronger than the fox, but he was a lot fiercer. Fortunately, Ben and Mr. Crenshaw had intervened before he'd been seriously hurt; and he would have been, all for her sake. Of that she had no doubt.
She glanced at her clock. It was past ten-thirty and she felt famished. Moving very carefully, the vixen slowly separated herself from her lover and rose, pausing long enough to place a warm pillow next to him. She watched, smiling as he instinctively reached out, found the pillow and pulled it against himself before returning to the depths of sleep. Abby carefully pulled the covers over him then retrieved her bathrobe from the floor. Discovering it was slightly cum-stained she placed it in her dirty clothes hamper and picked out a somewhat sheerer robe from her closet. The house was warm enough, and she thought it would be fun to tease him by wearing the translucent gown.
It took her about twenty minutes to scramble together some eggs and ham, toast a couple slices of bread and brew coffee. Finishing, she put it all on a tray along with some fresh strawberries and carried it into the bedroom. Sam was just beginning to stir so Abby set the tray on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.
Taking his hand Abby brought it up to her nose pad and sniffed at it gently. Though clean, the faint scent of machine oil was still there. She held his hand to her cheek and closed her eyes. When she wanted, she could still remember the sound of her father's voice with all its warmth, wisdom and strength.
"Merry Christmas daddy," she thought.
"And you muffin," came the whispered reply. "Have you called your mother yet? You know she worries."
"No, but I will... First I want to think of a way of telling her."
"Telling her what?"
"That I've found him."
"Him who?" asked the whisper
Abby giggled like a little girl. "You know... HIM!"
"Oh... Him!" There was a pause as she imagined him placing a hand on her shoulder. "I thought Lenny Wilcox from 11th grade was suppose to be HIM."
She huffed slightly in embarrassment. "That was just a sweet-sixteen infatuation. It never really went anywhere."
"Except his bedroom," the voice gently chided.
"I know... Did you have to remind me?"
"Yes I did. I'm your father after all."
"Well... It's partly your fault. Neither you nor mother ever gave me the birds and bees speech, at least not until it was too late."
"Don't blame me," the voice chuckled softly. You know I can't tell you anything you don't already know yourself.
"Granted. But it would have helped."
"Did it help when you were in college with... you-know-who?
"Andrew Curtiss Wilson, esq. the III."
"You should never trust anyone with a number after their name."
"Please don't quote me... to me, daddy." There was a very, very long pause. In her mind's eye Abigail could see her father giving Sam a good close look.
"So... what make you think this is HIM?"
"Because he's warm, and gentle, and good-hearted, and protective, and shy..."
"And because he didn't try to jump into bed with you the first time you met?"
"DADDY!"
"Sorry. Just saying what's on your mind."
"I've been kind of half watching him since I started with Mr. Crenshaw," she said. "In a lot of ways he reminds me of you."
"You mean what you THINK was me. Remember, there was a lot you didn't know about me that you learned later. The same will be true with him, especially if it really is HIM!"
"What I learned didn't change how I felt. If anything, it made me feel a lot closer to you. I mean, if you could make mistakes and still do what's right, then it was okay to be fallible."
"You mean you like me more off the pedestal than on it?"
"Well... when you're not standing on a pedestal I can reach up and hug you when I need to."
"Like now?"
"Like now!"
The voice hummed in thought for a moment before continuing. "Well, if you can really love Mister Taylor, even with his weaknesses, and he can love you even with yours, then perhaps he really is HIM."
"You think so?"
"Yes, but that's only because YOU know so!" the voice replied as it slowly faded from the vixen's mind.
Abigail felt a hand gently squeezing hers. She opened her eyes and looked down at the fox, smiling. He smiled back at her through half-open lids.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he whispered.
THE END