FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_© All characters and storylines involving said characters belong to me: Eben Black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

2.

The reception was being held at the Rochelle's condo, in Malibu, at Zuma Beach. The weather was warm, almost unbearable had we not had air-conditioning in the cadilac. The reception would consist of a dinner and then a back-yard barbeque. Sounded normal. But the Rochelle's were one of the wealthiest families in LA. Their condo was one of the largest, and their back-yard barbeque would be one of the social events of the year. Why was that? Shane, stallion of my dreams, was a respected doctor, a surgeon no less who also happened to teach seminars at UCLA. His father, the honourable Judge Rochelle was the most renowned judge based in and around LA. He had one of the more impressive resumes you'd ever see. He had convicted hundreds, possibly even thousands of individual criminals and never took threats from the more dangerous criminals as serious issues. I'd had the pleasure of being a member of the onlookers in one of the prosecution hearings that he'd judged. He was a firm, but honest and honourable steed who'd been ruthless when needed and forgiving at other times. I could see where Shane got his own sense of right and wrong from. Although Shane had heard stories about the justice system from his father that had made him desire a career as a doctor, instead of being a lawyer and a possible judge.

Judge Rochelle's wife and beloved, Samantha Raynard-Rochelle was not the legitimate mother to Shane. She was his stepmother, and what a stepmother she was according to Shane. She was a panther, all sleak, black fur and with a figure that all middle-aged females around Los Angeles would die for. She had been a model, turned socialite who now headed up several charitable benefits and foundations for orphaned children and hospitals all over. I pulled up at the gravel car park of the Rochelle's condo, nicknamed Safe Haven. A nice nickname. The condo was all modern, white and beautiful to look at. Although in this sunlight, shades were required to even gaze up at the facade. I propped mine on my muzzle and stepped out of the driver's seat of the cadilac. What? I liked, no, I loved my sleak, black cadilac. I'd had it for four years and I'd never had a single problem. It was my first and only car of choice. I locked the doors when Shane was out and walked wide around the bonnet.

Shane offered me his extended hand as I neared him. Did I hold his hand in front of his oncoming mother? Or did I shy away from the hand all awkward and unnatural? No. Be brave! I took Shane's hand in mine, a warm press the steed seemed to adore. He peered over his own shades at me with adoration burning in those pale-browns of his. I could almost hear the "thank you" screaming from those eyes of his. I smiled back and let him lead me to where Samantha Raynard-Rochelle stood waiting. She was a little over five-foot-nine, tall and slender, but curvy where it mattered. Her sleak black fur was cut close, her slender tail trailed behind her, her head fur was long and done in a number of waves down her back, almost reaching her waistline. Lavender eyes watched me move and behind that look was a warmth, a motherly warmth that I was unfamiliar with. In that moment I could see it. True happiness. It was a kind of happiness a mother has when she sees that her son is happy. She welcomed me with open arms and hugged me, not too tight, and not too loose. She wanted the embrace but wouldn't squeeze me to death. I liked her. Samantha Raynard-Rochelle was good people in my personal opinion. I hugged her back and had to release my death grip on Shane's hand to do so. "Thank you for having me, and congratulations to the family too," I said. She nodded and added, "And thank you for finally making an appearance. I understand you've been a little...nervous about this?" I shot Shane a look and he grinned back. The bastard had told them I was anxious? I looked back at Samantha. "I am a little, first impressions and all that." "Shane has told us what you do for a living, Sasha. An investigator looking into the preternatural. A dangerous job indeed, but one that seeks to protect the innocent." She spoke like a proud mother would have. She added, "Good people do those kinds of jobs, Sasha, honest and hard working people. Your welcome here for being that kind of pup." "Thanks." She linked her arm with mine and started to lead me towards the steps that lead from the gravel to the condo. She looked back and called, "Shane, go and see where your father is. The Judge has wanted to meet Sasha for such a long time now." She looked back at me and added, "He's been excited about meeting you since he heard you had accepted the invitation." "Excited? Whatever for?" I asked. She seemed to consider that for a moment and then admitted, "Shane has never had much luck where partners are concerned. He's an honest steed who looks for the good in others before making any bonds with them. When I heard that he and you had been dating for over seven months, that painted you in an amazing light, Sasha. So naturally, the whole family has been eager to make your acquaintance. I had heard about your occupational hazards as well as seeing pictures of you. Your much cuter in person than what the photographs depict." Did I thank her for that comment too? I smiled instead. I was saying thanks too much anyhow. "Your relationship with Shane has been on everyone's mind, even the bride and grooms," she grinned as she lead me around the condo and toward the back-yard.

The back-yard stretched out in a sloped hill, lush green lawns and pure-white garden furniture were what awaited me. The condo was near a cliff that overlooked Zuma Beach, the white-sanded lands paled under the bright skies. I made a soft "wow" as I gazed across the land that the Rochelle's owned. A waiter strutted over and offered a silver platter, glasses of bubbling champagne lined the reflective surface of the offering tray. "Champagne, sir?" the otter offered, "Ma'am?" he inclined his head to Samantha too. Samantha took one and I shook my head. "No thank you. Do you have soft drinks? I'm on call." "Certainly, sir, I shall fetch you one now. Orange juice, okay?" he asked. I nodded. Samantha sipped her glass and asked, "Your still on call, even during time off periods?" "I know, I know, I'm not one hundred percent pleased about it either, but there are too few of us in the preternatural investigation squad to ever consider a true weekend off. I'm with the forensic sector, so if they need me in I'll have to go and take a look. But now that I know where you live, I can come and go over the weekend if needed," I assured her. The otter-waiter returned with a single champagne glass filled to the brim with OJ. "Thanks," I said as I took the glass cautiously and sipped it. "Shane said you weren't much of a drinker anyway," Samantha smiled back as she said it. "I have the odd glass here and there, but I've not been drunk since college. I had one experience and never want to repeat it." I suddenly realised I'd just confessed to being blitzed at one point to Shane's mother. She laughed, full-throated and pleasant. A sound not dissimilar to that of a songstress. "Do not look so ashamed, Sasha, we have all had our...undignified moments before. Why, Richard's first encounter with me was a beach party. I was in my late-twenties, he in is early-thirties. He'd just broken up with his previous wife. I was drunk, tried dancing with him, fell about him, barely conscious, and then kissed him. Twenty years down the line and here we are." It was unthinkable to look at her now. The silken, silvery gown clung to her figure and made her look so refined and debonaire. I stifled a laugh and stole a grin as I watched her sip her champagne.

I gazed around the garden and sipped my own drink. A number of chairs and circular tables lined a section of the flatter lawns, a dance floor had been erected beneath a great, grand wooden tent-like apparatus beside them. Sat behind the dance floor was a small, wooden gazebo, a band setting up, drum set, guitars, a flute and saxophone, microphones in front of each instrument. The band itself were standing beside the gazebo, puffing on cigarettes. I'd never seen anything like this. A brick barbeque was set into the slabbed area outside the condo's back doors. The barbeque could easily cook a couple dozen burgers at one time. It even looked like it might need two cooks to get the food out at an appropriate speed. The whole place should have screamed of "wealth" and "greed", but what I saw was "warmth" and "family". These were good people. Nothing more, nothing less.

I was admiring what looked like cheeryblossoms in the distance, down one of the sloped lawns when a deep, familiar voice called my name. Shane stepped down the slabbed steps to where the barbeque stood, he had stripped in the heat. His jacket and tie gone, dress shirt unbuttoned at the sleeves and revealing a triangle of chest hair as he walked toward me. A similar looking steed followed him. Judge Richard Rochelle stood at an easy six-foot-six. He'd been an athlete during college and hadn't lost that broad-shouldered bulk in his mid-fifties. His fur coat was a darker shade of brown compared to his sons, his head hair long and bound, done in a thick chesnut-brown braid. Aged lines here and there were the only indication of age. Save for them, he looked like a long-lost brother of Shane's. Shane introduced us, "Sasha Hudson, this is my father, the honourable Judge Richard Rochelle." "Pleasure to finally meet you, Sasha. I've heard alot about you," the deep, gravelly voice of Richard filled the space around him as we shook hands. "Thanks, your honor," I replied. He held his hand up and added, "Please. This is not the courtroom, call me Richard." I gave him raised eyebrows and replied, "Sure thing, Richard." "So, how are you finding my wife's company, Sasha. Has she dulled you with stories of Shane's upbringing yet?" he asked with a pleasant smile. "Funnily enough, we haven't had chance to speak about Shane's...upbringing yet. Why? Was he a troublesome child, Richard?" I asked with a smile. My God, I was relaxed around these folks. Richard laughed, full-throated like his wife had done earlier. "Something like that. Not the conventional youth, was our Shane, but he evened out when his teens hit." "Dad, do we have to?" Shane grimaced as he looked up at his father. "Oh come now, Shane, its not often we meet your partners. Your so cautious all the time," Richard replied, "A little embarressment will do you good." Shane and his father exchanged a look. It was the kind of look that you share with a relative you truly care about. It was heart-warming. Richard eventually caved and said, "Fine. Then we shall leave the photo albums for when today's festivities are over and done with." Shane shrugged and murmured, "Its better than showing the baby pictures out here on the lawn, I suppose." "Baby pictures?" I repeated with a mild amusement in my voice. Shane shot me a warning look. Richard and Samantha grinned. "Oh yes, Shane was very much the liberated baby when he was growing up. Hardly ever kept his clothes on, this one," Richard bumped Shane's shoulder as he spoke. Shane clapped a hand over his eyes and made a noise of frustration low in his throat. "I'd be happy to take a look later on, Richard. But would it be possible for Shane to show me around a little before the celebrations kick off?" I asked. "I don't see why not. His bedroom still looks like it did when he left for college all those years ago," Samantha grinned. "Mom, I'm twenty-five. Not that old for you to say "all those years ago" yet," Shane remarked. He offered me his hand and I took it. That simple act warmed his father's eyes as Shane lead me toward the condo's back doors. "Your parents are sweet. I love 'em," I said as soon as we were out of earshot. Shane grinned down at me as he offered me his arm like a proper gentleman. "I get the impression they like you too." I glanced back as the Judge and his wife talked, casually touching one another's hands and speaking in low voices. "You think so?" I murmured. "Of course they do. No doubt Mom mentioned my way of dealing with relationships," he replied. "What? That whole thing about being overly cautious with new relationships, and only introducing partners your happy with?" I asked. He nodded. I thought about it and then had to ask, "How many partners have you introduced to your folks like this, Shane?" "Your the first one." "W-What?" I stammered. I stopped dead and dropped my arm from Shane's. "Something wrong?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "You've never brought anyone home before now?" I asked. He shook his head. "So why me?" He smirked and stepped in close, his body brushing mine. His hands found mine and laced our fingers together. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. A chaste touch. He broke the kiss and whispered, "I love you." The blush rushed back and I almost choked under it as I looked into those sincere pale-browns in my lover's face. He smiled down, warm and compassionate. "You mean that, don't you?" I asked. He considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Why wouldn't I?" he added. "I...love you too," I breathed. He leaned in again and we kissed. He deepened the kiss a little and for a heartbeat I almost went with him, hands trailing up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the silken material of his shirt. But that wonderful moment was shattered by a dull vibration in my jacket pocket.

I broke the kiss and reached into the pocket, pulling free my mobile phone. I recognised the number. Police work. Fuck! I looked up at Shane and opened my mouth to speak. He stopped me with another kiss and then turned me and gently pushed me toward the back door. I looked a question at him and he mouthed, "Go." I smiled back at him and then nodded.

I wanted to remain here. I wanted to meet more of Shane's family. I wanted to eat, to drink and dance. Which was odd because I hated to dance. Was this what love did to me? Made me want to ballroom dance. Dear Lord. I had a job to do though. As sad as it may seem, I answered the call and was whisked off. Why couldn't criminals take time off from time to time? It was a little frustrating. But that's life, I suppose.