A Night's Entertainment
(Meta note: there is no television in my world. They found [a book I once read](%5C), that was half ridiculous and half brilliant, and decided to kill the medium. This story is based on his better ideas, and a related, equally new medium.)
A Night's Entertainment
"Trust me," Robert had said, "you'll like it if you sit all the way through it."
Of course, it was a friend of his that owned this venture, and was making all the money from it. Tracey suspected that Rob might even get a cut. But still, he was here, and the line was blocking a third of the street. Most of those in line were dogs and cats, as was the population of the city, but the eagle did not feel out of place.
It was a new idea, that was just another old one: a special kind of theatre. Tracey had been to one or two theatres housed in the university, but they were just a bunch of actors running around on stage. This is was for film -- a medium that had largely languished in storehouses. Rob would consider the idea that his friend had made the old new again, and those in line obviously agreed with it.
The four-story building covered most of the block, and was a rather dull white, but the line worked its way toward starkly contrasting red curtains around the door. The inside was dark, and there were no windows, just fire stairs. Tracey thought it seemed rather odd, but he was in the mood to experience new things, so put worries out of his mind.
When Tracey wound his way slowly to a glass-enclosed booth out front, a rather short otter wearing a navy blue vest asked, "How many?"
"Just me," answered Tracey, wondering how young he was -- under 20, for sure, maybe 18.
The otter took his money -- a rather exorbitant amount for 90 minutes of anything -- and gave him a card with a smile that was probably fake. "Just get your card read, and it will tell you where to go."
Tracey nodded, not sure what that meant, and stepped in. The lighting was dim in the entryway, but Tracey could see a faint terminal. He held up the dark rows of lines on the thick paper card to the screen, and it changed. It directed him up an elevator to the second floor, and then to room 8.
He went down the hall, following a chunk of the line that used to be in front of him, to the elevators. It was hard to even see their outlines, as their frames were in the shadow of one or two of the faint fixtures on the walls. When one door opened the light that was blinding by comparison.
There was a faint outline of a cat, who held open the door, and admitted one at a time with a "good afternoon" for each. By the time that Tracy got in, everyone had to cram together. But when the crowed pressed Tracey was against the body attached to that voice, he decided he didn't mind the trip. The smell of his fur made him sorry to get off at the second floor.
Tracey headed down a long and curved hallway, along with half the throng. He found room 8 after seven identical doors, which were quite plain, but heavy. He stepped in to find a dimly lit room with two rows of four seats, facing a wall that seemed to be emitting a muted white light the center of the otherwise pitch black room. Tracey presumed that was the screen.
He sat down in the chair at the center of the set, and noticed the armrest: it had another card reader that was dimmed out, the screen was barely the size of his spread hand. He didn't know when it would start, and the reader did nothing when he moved his card over it. He didn't know what to expect, but knew it wasn't sensory deprivation, so he waited.
It was after two more minutes that the card reader's screen came on of its own accord, casting a faint image onto the ceiling.
"Choose an attendant," the directions instructed, as a series of pictures went slowly by.
The screen was so small it was hard to see them, as they were a shot from the head to the waist against a black background. Since everyone was dressed like that otter at the door, it was a little hard to see their frames.
After cycling through the list twice, he picked a youthful snow leopard he thought looked cute. The computer went dark, and immediately, something behind him slid open, and from the shadows, the figure he had pointed at a moment ago stood in front of him.
"My name is Ryan," he said with a bow, "do you need anything before you start?"
Tracey thought a moment, while looking over the much thinner body in a similar dark blue suit to the cashier's. He was probably the bird's height, even though he seemed taller because of how the blue suit fit over his frame.
"Uh, maybe you can explain this whole thing," Tracey answered, to avoid staring too hard, "I've never been here before."
"Oh, certainly. I bet you're wondering why it's so dark."
"Yeah."
"Well, that's because your eyes are supposed to adjust. It improves the picture quality. Don't worry, you'll be able to see alright once it starts."
"And when is that?"
"About 2 more minutes, I think. You should probably pick the movie you want to see now. Just tap on the screen."
Tracey poked at the touchscreen again, and now it showed a list of titles.
"Just touch one to get a summary of the story. And be careful what you pick, you only get one."
Such a warning made Tracey a little nervous. "Hmm," he murmured, reading the names blankly, "do you have a recommendation?"
"There are quite a few for different tastes, and we're not supposed to recommend anything. What were you expecting to see when you came in?"
Tracey smiled rather sheepishly. It seemed like such a simple question, but he had no answer. "Um, I don't really know, this was recommended by a friend."
"He or a she friend?" he asked, voice not any different.
"He," answered Tracey with some hesitation.
"And how good looking was this friend, by chance?"
Tracey smiled, not seeing the point. "Pretty good looking," he answered coyly.
Ryan sat down at the far end of the chairs, and turned on that chair's identical touchscreen. "Well, okay. If you want something to give you the idea of what a movie is like, I would pick this one." He tapped, and in synchrony, their screens brought up one third from the top.
Tracey mumbled as he read. "Raymond ... Charlie and Kristine... he loves him ... hates her ... steals her husband... trickery... hey, it doesn't tell you the end."
"No it doesn't," confirmed Ryan, adding a touch of playfulness to his voice, "wouldn't you like to find out how it ends?"
Tracey chuckled and sighed. "They're playing it that way, huh? Sure, why not."
He pressed it, and after flashing to acknowledge his decision, the screen went blank.
"Shouldn't be but another moment," explained the snow leopard. "Just a reminder, I'm Ryan, let me know if you need anything at all, like something to eat or drink. Just scan your card."
"Okay, thanks."
Ryan walked back into the back, sliding the door closed on a quiet metal track, until it bumped gently against the wall.
After another boring moment, the soft white screen faded to black, drawing Tracey's attention, and casting the room into darkness. And then, slowly, a picture faded in: a lake, with a house on it, at night.
Tracey stared at the screen, which made him feel like a ghost: an invisible eye upon this scene. He floated over the lake for a moment, and then drifted toward the window. Slowly, an invisible force dragged him into a second story window, down a stairwell, and into the living room. There was artistic stonework, and other decor designed to look like they were living in human times.
Two male wolves were sitting together on a large sofa with a roaring fire, wrapped in each other's arms, and kissing each other for long periods. It was a touching and affectionate scene.
"I love you," one whispered, unaware of the invisible eyes of Tracey. But when Tracey was starting to enjoy watching this, everything froze, and became a digital screen.
"As you can see," said a voice, which was from a surly-looking panther who had the palm-top in his hand, "they were there just a couple of days ago."
Tracey, however, was quite disoriented. He blinked, and shook his head, trying to understand what had just happened to his invisible eye. Suddenly, he was now in the cat's office -- or so it seemed, he was the one behind the desk. A great dane entered the frame, looked at the screen, and sighed in disgust.
Still a little confused, Tracey kept thinking about scanning the card, but held back. The dane thanked the cat "for his work" -- the photo? -- and walked out onto a busy street in a large city, in the bright light of day. After a long scene of walking down the street, Tracey gave in, and scanned it.
"Yes?" asked Ryan politely as he reappeared.
Tracey suspected he was blushing, or so he felt. "Can I ask a stupid question? What just happened about two minutes ago?"
"I think I know what you're talking about. That's called a 'transition'. It's like you're reading a book, and it says, 'then a few days later...'"
Tracey sighed and laughed twice, still feeling stupid. "Thanks," he added with a dumb smile, as he heard Ryan vanish once again.
He wondered how many other things like that he would need to call for Ryan on, but not for long. The story became clear as his eye met that wolf in a business setting, whose name was Charlie, and seemed to be on good but distant terms with that great dane, named Raymond.
Now recognizing these transitions, but still finding it a little bit disorienting, Tracey followed the next six of them, covering 20 minutes. Before long, Raymond was now trying to convince Kristine he had seen her husband sneaking around with another male. It would be the end of their marriage -- or so he hoped.
Tracey was completely engrossed, until Raymond leaned over to whisper, and said, "his name is -- achoo!" and sneezed on her. It was enough to get Tracey to laugh aloud, at such a loss of dramatic tension -- but also notice he was getting a headache.
He suspected he just needed something to drink, and it would go away. He scanned the card again.
"Yes?" answered Ryan promptly.
"I've got a headache. Could I get something to drink?"
"Sure," he answered, "I'll get some hot tea."
After going to the back, and returning in his usual quick form, the snow leopard placed a wide, clear glass, in a holder he unfolded from Tracey's left armrest.
"Sometimes it's these seats," added Ryan before Tracey could thank him. "You're too tall to have their heads adjusted right. I would suggest a neck massage."
Tracey had a little more mixed feelings about it, but remembered how much this cost, and was determined to make it worth it. "Okay," he said, a little hesitation leaking into his voice.
He leaned back in his seat, the back moving only 10 degrees, and let Ryan manipulate his neck. "Just tell me if you want me to stop," directed Ryan calmly -- words whose other context was inescapable to Tracey. But the bird let Ryan place his right palm on his forehead, and then, knead his left fist into his neck. Since the right hand supported him, all the muscles were relaxed.
The snow leopard was quite skilled. He got Tracey to grunt a few times, and Tracey changed his breathing. "You're very tense," Ryan noted softly, "just relax. Watch the movie." The rubbing made Tracey about ready to do that. He put whatever else he had in his head -- including thoughts of a bad plot -- aside. He focused his eyes on the screen, and became lost once again.
Without touching his tea, Tracey watched the great dane Raymond execute his plan to win the male of his dreams, Charlie the wolf. Raymond got Charlie's wife to have a big fight. Raymond then introduced her to another fine-looking male specimen, and waited. Sure enough, they ran off, so she could have revenge on Charlie, just as Raymond had planned.
It got rid of her, and Raymond was happy... but Charlie was not. His work suffered, and he started drinking a lot. Raymond hated to see that, so he took him home instead one night, and got him talking about it, listening sympathetically, and even taking quite a dose of alcohol himself.
Tracey, completely engrossed, didn't notice until Charlie talked about his loneliness that Ryan was gone -- and had been for some time. He suddenly felt the same thing that Charlie now began a soliloquy upon: he needed someone in his life, or he couldn't be happy.
Tracey felt the room get larger, and emptier; the vantage point of his invisible eye a lonely perch to view this scene of utter despair. Minute after minute, he watched, eyes drawn inexplicably to the screen, as he felt worse and worse. But just as his eyes were starting to moisten, Ryan re-appeared without being called.
"Pardon me," he said formally, "but -- may I sit down and watch? This is the good part."
It was odd, Tracey thought, but it was welcome. "Yeah," he answered with a smile.
Ryan sat down a respectful one seat away from Tracey, the furthest possible. On the screen, when the alcohol started flowing, the script got more and more impassioned. It wasn't long before Charlie was sobbing.
"Why!" he shouted, "why can't I just be happy! Why do I have to fall in love with my friends!"
Fast cut to Raymond, showing a sudden epiphany. "You what?" he asked with wide eyes.
"Don't you see? I fall in love with anyone who's nice to me! I can't help it!"
Raymond sat down on the couch beside him. "It's okay," Raymond whispered. Charlie stopped crying.
His eyes were a little erratic in their focus, but he did his best to stare at Raymond. Raymond stared back. Their breathing filled the silence, and, slowly, they leaned toward each other, and kissed.
That's when Tracey felt a hand touch his shoulder. He turned, and found the snow leopard staring at him, just the same way: longing. Tracey's heart skipped, and his brain was tempted at the image.
"May I -- sit closer?" asked the snow leopard, with just as much detachment as before -- but a soft, affectionate gaze in undeniable contradiction to it.
"If you... really want to," Tracey answered, as he noticed the characters on the screen break off and Raymond apologize and have second thoughts.
When Ryan stood up, and sat down right next to him, Tracey's eyes were broken from the screen. When they returned to it a moment later, Ryan leaned close enough to make them rub shoulders.
"I meant it," Ryan repeated in a whisper, "anything you want... just ask."
Oh, what Tracey wanted. His heavy breathing, beating heart, and even a little grunt or two were all evidence of it. It took quite a bit of nerve -- and watching the kiss on the screen resume -- before he managed to finally say it. "Kiss me," he whispered huskily.
The snow leopard barely let him get the words out before muzzle contacted beak. It was far less elegant than the movie, as Tracey was unable to match that muzzle with his hooked beak. But, it was still close enough to let them lick each other's faces, and when they met, each other's tongues.
Unconsciously reacting to the movements of Ryan, Tracey pulled them closer together, pulling his shirt into Ryan's blue, somewhat scratchy suit. The flat movie faded in the mind of Tracey, as only Ryan filled his sight and sound -- and smell, and touch, which the medium lacked.
Tracey gently started to unbutton his pants with one hand while grasping Ryan with the other. "Mmmm, let me," Ryan purred, gently stripping Tracey down to his waist.
"I... I never knew," Tracey faintly heard someone on the screen say, beginning some long dialogue or other. He was too busy watching Ryan playing with his fast-hardening cock.
"Please," he groaned, "just suck me already."
His tender flesh was immediately swallowed, and then rubbed by sensuous inner cheeks, before a silky tongue got him to call out in surprise and pleasure.
"Unh!" Tracey gasped, more like being shot than being blown.
Tracey, though he would never say it aloud, had very little experience besides pawing off. He was astonished, just what a difference another male made. He was panting heavily and squirting precum before even a minute had gone by.
As the mouth kept bobbing, slowly, caressing every inch of the head and skin with its warm, wonderful surface, it was too much. Tracey came with a long moan, closing his eyes and feeling his muscles pump up the white goo from his balls. The rush lasted mere moments, but catapulted him to new heights.
And then, when penis no longer liked the attention, he sighed, "thank you, Ryan." A moment after, the snow leopard stopped, released him, and sat back down in front of the movie.
When Ryan was able to pay attention, only about 10 minutes were left. Having apparently been saved a rather boring part -- a letdown, were he not expecting it -- he just watched the two males get married. That was it. After that, the screen returned to the soft white it showed when he first walked in.
"That was wonderful," Tracey admitted.
"The movie?" asked Ryan, a playful smile on his face.
"Fine. But the service was wonderful."
Ryan smiled, a real, deep genuine smile. His formalism seemed finally to have been stripped from him. "Thanks," he sighed, "I enjoyed providing that fine service."
And that's when Tracey had a terrible thought, that ruined the whole thing in a flash: was the sex a marketing device?
"Uh, Ryan, tell me something," he insisted, a little more sharply than he intended. "You really liked it? Or were you made to do it?"
Ryan's smile faded, and he took a moment to think. As far as Tracey was concerned, that was his answer, but he let him say whatever it was he would say. "The sex was an assignment," he answered slowly, "which is why they put a boring part right there. But the fact that I find you attractive isn't."
Tracey focused his eyes on Ryan like a laser, trying to drill out another answer.
"It's the truth," begged Ryan, "you are more -- attractive than most who I meet in this job."
It was hard to believe that a cat could find a bird attractive, but the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice made Tracey certain.
Tracey blinked, and relaxed. "Okay," he answered, "I'll take what I can get. Because I -- really do think you are incredibly cute, and I would like to know you better."
Now it was his turn to soften his eyes, which made Ryan just as nervous. "Could we say... maybe? I don't really know you. I might like to find out more, but not so fast."
Tracey nodded. "Alright. We can do that. Is there any particular days and times you work?"
After getting a quick version of Ryan's schedule, and advice to show up 15 minutes early next time, Tracey finally gave Ryan one more kiss, one more affectionate gaze, and made his way, slowly, out of the theatre. He decided that his experience was amazing -- but he probably wouldn't tell his friends.
The End.