Back Brush
"Another interview?"
Smith immediately realized how insubordinate his yelp had sounded. He raised his chin and smiled.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Sergeant. I'm honoured to have this opportunity!"
The older wolf gave Smith a patronizing smile.
"We won't be inconveniencing you by asking for a third interview, will we? I don't want you to think we're being unfair at all."
"Oh, no sir, not at all! I'm grateful that you're still considering me for the position. I'm sure a successful company like Goodfield Mutual Life has to be very careful when selecting employees."
"That's exactly right," Sergeant said, standing. "We're one of the most successful companies in the field because we hire successful people. And only successful people; one loser on the team makes us all look bad."
Sergeant stopped and watched. Smith realized in a moment that this was the end of the interview and stood as well. Sergeant offered him a big, furry hand; Smith took it eagerly. But Sergeant didn't shake his hand. He grasped it tightly instead and pulled against Smith's pull, holding the younger wolf still for a moment. He brushed at a stray lock of neck fur that was sticking out of Smith's collar. Then he patted a slight bulge in the back of Smith's suit coat where the unbrushed fur on his back pushed out a little.
"Your grades and experience are impeccable, young wolf," Sergeant said. "You have the qualifications. I look forward to seeing you at your final interview."
"Thank you, sir."
Sergeant leaned close to Smith's face.
"Take care of the rest before you come, whelp," he murmured.
Then he turned Smith towards the door and finally let go of his hand. As Smith was walking out, Sergeant pulled a brush from his desk and took a few totally unnecessary swipes at his own immaculate fur.
#
Smith booked a third interview with Sergeant's secretary. The elevator door opened almost as soon as he touched the call button. The attendant, an old wolf with grizzled but immaculately groomed fur, pushed a button for him without waiting to ask his floor.
"Job interview?" the elder wolf asked.
"Does it really show that much?"
"I see everyone who works here, pretty much. I never forget a face, either. I've only seen you here once before. You went to the personnel floor then, too. It adds up. Get a third interview?"
"You don't miss anything, do you?"
"I'd better not, I'm supposed to be security!" The old wolf chuckled. "Mr. Sergeant probably got touchy with you towards the end." (Smith gave him a quizzical look.) "Third interview; they like you, but they have concerns about you. In your case, judging by the loose fur around your collar, I'd say it's because you look like a loser."
"Well, he didn't say that.. Hey!"
The attendant touched a button. The elevator stopped between floors. He put a hand on Smith's shoulder.
"Do you usually just leave your back fur like that?"
"Like what? Look, I can't reach it behind me..."
"And I'll bet the last time your back fur had a proper brush, your mom did it, right?"
"I... Well, I guess..."
"Have much luck in college?"
"Luck?"
"With the girls."
"I'd guessed what you meant."
"You show me your throat when you talk that way, whelp! Never mind, I know damn well you didn't. Who takes over brushing your back fur when you leave your mom's side?"
Smith glared for a moment, but the elder wolf smelled like a fight and he looked tougher than his age. The young wolf raised his chin -- a bit -- and glanced away.
"Whoever you go to brushes your back."
"And you never found a girl to go to, otherwise your fur wouldn't be so messy now. Didn't your dad warn you to find a girl right away?"
"Well it's not that easy, is it? Just claiming a girl, they won't let you do that any more. Anyway, dad's in the navy, he wasn't home much..."
"...which is why you don't know the rules. Now listen, whelp. This company doesn't hire losers. With your back fur unbrushed like that, you look like a loser."
"So what am I supposed to do about it?"
"Fake it."
"Huh?"
"Go get a back brush."
"But those are for losers!"
"And what do you call yourself? You don't have a girl to groom you, what do you think that makes you?"
Smith felt his teeth baring, but the other wolf just looked at him levelly. He shut his mouth, raised his chin and looked away. The attendant patted Smith's shoulder, then touched a button. The elevator continued down.
"Whelp, in this world, nothing succeeds but success. Nothing but success. You're a loser because you look like one. No other reason, not as far as I can see." The elevator stopped and the door opened. "You think about that," he added.
#
Smith entered the next department store he came to. He asked the greeter for the men's goods section. The old bitch looked him over, sneered and directed him to an exact aisle and section on the second floor. Sure enough, that's where he walked past the store's display of back brushes; walked past because it was directly opposite the women's fashions and there were three girls standing there. He went and stood two aisles away and looked at underwear, glancing furtively at the women's section. When the coast was clear he tried again, walking as nonchalantly as he could towards the back brushes. He glanced again at the women's section; nobody was in sight.
He stopped and looked at the things. The store had quite a variety of back brushes; some had natural bristles and wooden handles, others stinky synthetics. Some were carved or engraved, mainly with kindly, matronly figures, a few with attractive girls. The handles came in various lengths. A display sign showed how to judge which size he needed from the length of his forearm. He glanced towards the women's fashions again before checking his arm against the display. There were two girls there. They were staring at him. He quickly looked away. He tried to give the back brushes a derisive chuckle; it came out more like a nervous giggle. He raised his tail high, (which at least partly hid his unkempt neck), and turned away...
"Can I help you today, sir!"
...right into a salesman who seemed to have just appeared and stepped, with a slobbering grin, almost into him. Smith stumbled backwards in shock. The salesman, (whose name tag just said Rock), grabbed Smith's arm and steadied him, then forgot to let go.
"Can I help you find anything today, sir?" he said, still grinning, in a voice that seemed to carry to the back of the store.
"I, I, uh..."
"I see you're looking at back brushes sir! May I show you our line of back brushes today?"
Still holding Smith's arm, Rock took his elbow and held it against the display.
"You'll need a size medium small one, sir!" Rock declared. By this time his grin was so wide that his tongue was lolling. Smith glanced at the women's fashions and would have bolted if Rock hadn't still been holding his arm. It looked as if every girl in the store was standing there, sniggering.
"Now this is a nice back brush, sir! It was a picture of your mother on it! Isn't it nice?"
"Let go of my arm!" Smith growled.
Rock's grip tightened painfully.
"Will there be anything else today, sir? You'll need a nice mirror to go with your back brush! You'll need one to see what you're doing while you brush your own back!"
By now there were gales of feminine giggles coming from the women's side. Rock was looking down his nose at Smith and positively leering.
"Let go of my arm!" Smith snarled.
Rock jerked Smith's arm and turned him towards the women's fashions, then marched him down the aisle towards them.
"This way, sir!" he commanded. "I'll take you to the cashier and you can pay for your new back brush!"
Rock dragged Smith to the cashier, holding the gaudy, smelly, nylon thing up for all to see. He stood in line with Smith, extolling its virtues in a good, loud voice all the time. It felt to Smith as if every girl in the store was staring and laughing. Finally they arrived at the head of the line. Rock thanked Smith for his business, yelled back brush one more time, then shoved him into the check out counter and walked away, snickering.
"Cash or charge," the girl at the cash register said, sneering.
"I want to complain about that man..."
"Shuddup, loser. Gimmee yer wallet."
#
Smith stuffed his wallet back into his trousers pocket as he walked stiffly out of the store, feeling like all the brushes in the world wouldn't lay his hackles down. The girl at the check out hadn't even offered him a bag; he stuffed the incriminating brush down his pant leg to hide it from the rest of the world. He noticed a tawny-furred wolf girl had followed him out. She paused behind him as he hid the brush and followed him as he walked down the street towards the bus stop. She stood beside him as he waited for a bus to come.
"Nice day," she said.
Smith felt his teeth bare again; he yawned, licked his nose and closed his mouth.
"That brush won't help you," she added.
"I don't need your sympathy," he growled.
"I have none for losers," she replied, then put a hand on his shoulder as he turned to go. "But I have something that'll actually help a man who wants to stop being a loser."
He shrugged off her hand, but he didn't leave. He glanced at the girl, then looked again. She was lean but curvy with smooth, thick, tawny fur. Her eyes were dark, her muzzle slender and her sweet, little nose leather glistened. Her long, bushy tail swished behind her slowly and sensuously. She looked back at him levelly, with confidence in her eyes. Her smile was friendly. He found himself beginning to smile back.
"Your bus is coming," she said. (He'd cocked an ear towards it too.) "Or you could come and have a coffee with me and talk about what I can do that a back brush can't. There's a café just around the corner, I go there all the time."
#
"Rocky was pretty rough on you," she said, over her cup. "He had a good reason."
"Yeah?"
"The more men are losers, the more women he can choose from."
Smith snorted. "What gi... woman would want a stupid jerk like him?"
"You know the answer to that. He's strong. He's masterful. He's cute. Any girl."
"So how does that help me?"
"It helps you understand why you need me." She took a sip of coffee. "Rocky's no bigger than you. Why didn't you fight him?"
"Well... he was bigger... well, no, but... I mean, you don't just..."
"He smelled like he was in charge. He was confident and you weren't and both of you knew it because you smelled it on each other. That's why he dominated you."
"So?"
"You're kind of old to be getting your first back brush. Nice suit, by the way. What's it for?"
"Uh... the suit? Job interview."
"First?"
"Second."
"And you're getting a third interview because they have doubts about you. A pretty conservative company?"
"Goodfield Mutual Life."
"Well, not bad! And they like you, but they don't know if they want to hire you because you're groomed like a loser."
"So?"
"That brush won't help you. They'll know you're faking it because you'll still smell like a loser."
"Because I groomed my own fur instead of having my girl do it?"
She smiled and lapped up another sip of warm, milky coffee.
"You're catching on," she said. "It's sad how many men don't realize it. A loser only smells like himself. A winner smells of his mate, or some girl. And that's how I can help you."
"You'd brush my back fur?"
She snickered. "A conservative company like Goodfield?" She raised her cup to her muzzle. "You'll need more than that," and she took another sip.
Smith took a moment to realize what she'd said. His head dropped and his ears curled back a little.
"Why would you do that... do more than brush some loser's back fur?"
She considered her coffee. For the first time, she didn't seem as confident.
"A back brush has its price," she said. "I cost more than a back brush. But I'll get the job done. It won't."
Smith's jaw started to drop. He tried to put his coffee down, but had trouble finding the table; he finally had to look. Then he looked back up at her. She was still looking at her cup.
"I'm more fun than a back brush," she added. "And I'll brush your back fur, too. Your whole coat, if you like."
"I can't do that!" Smith exclaimed. "Paying for it, that's... it's..."
"Cheating?"
"That's one way of putting it!"
"And what's a back brush if not cheating?"
"Well, I mean, back brushes are legal!"
"And whoring isn't. Neither is scent stealing, but men who want to get ahead do it."
"Wait, what? Scent stealing? What's..."
"You should read the paper, john. Some guys figure it out. They'll take brushes, knock down some girl or attack her in a gang and brush her tail. Then they brush their own coats with it. That way they get her scent on them. If they're smart or lucky they'll steal scent from a girl that nobody they care about knows. They'll smell like winners and be able to start getting ahead, hopefully long enough to get the attention of a girl who'll give them her scent willingly. If not, somebody will recognize her scent on them and wonder how it got there. Or her relatives will find them."
"That's sick!"
She snickered. She set down her coffee and looked at him levelly.
"Winners," she said, "get jobs with Goodfield Mutual. Losers spend their lives flipping steaks at Dog Food for minimum wage. Or less." She reached over and took Smith's left hand in her own. Her expression was almost tender as she nuzzled it. "If you want to see how well it works, just use this hand to pay with." Then she opened her purse and took out a card. "And this is how you can find me."
Then she took another sip of coffee, smiled at him, slipped through the tables back onto the sidewalk and walked away. As he watched her long, bushy tail swishing down the street behind her, feet stepped up beside him.
"You through?" said the waiter.
"Um... yeah... I guess so. What do I owe?"
"Eight sixty three."
"Oh. Um..." Smith took out his wallet. He looked inside and his face fell. "Um, could I pay with my bank card?"
"It's inside."
He took out his bank card and started to get up, then looked at his hands and sat back. He held up his bank card with his left hand.
"Couldn't I pay out here?" he said.
The waiter looked at the card as if it was slimy. Then his nose twitched; once, twice. He looked at Smith again, this time without sneering, and took the card.
"Of course, sir," he said. "Just a minute, please."
In less than a minute the waiter was back with a wireless terminal. The total was only five dollars sixty three. Smith added a two dollar tip. He carefully stowed the girl's card in his breast pocket before he left.
#
She knelt in front of him as she brushed his left leg. His right leg and foot were already smoothed down and a stretchy wrap sock covered his heel. She let him lean his hands on her head as she carefully applied another to his left heel.
"All ready for your shoes," she said. "Did you enjoy last night?"
He started to kneel with her, but she stood instead. He gently caressed her throat with both hands and nuzzled her mouth.
"You were wonderful!" he said.
"Worth my price?"
"Worth a bank loan. I told the loans manager it was to improve my job qualifications. He didn't even blink!"
She smiled and touched his nose leather with hers.
"I'm glad you feel good, john. You get better every time. You're better at life, too. You don't look like a loser, smell like a loser, you hardly even act like a loser. Soon you won't need me any more."
Smith's face fell at that, but the girl grinned and pulled at his shoulder. "Turn around, time to do your back fur."
Smith turned. Soon his face was filled with bliss as a standard hand brush slipped through his fur and scritched his back. His tail started to wag, but she touched it and he stopped. But his face started to fall again as the brush reached his lower back.
"You never told me why you do this. I mean really why. You're smart, you're pretty, you're friendly. You could get a better job than whoring. Why?"
She sighed.
"It's kind of a mission," she said. "The difference for men between winners and losers is nothing more than getting a girl as soon as they leave their moms. Some men deserve not to find one. But some guys don't learn how for some reason, some just luck out. It's not fair. So I luck them back in." She chuckled. "It's a living. And a good time."
Smith chuckled too. "Luck or fuck them back in?"
She swatted his butt cheek with the brush, making him yelp.
"Now be nice to the pretty girl, she's helping you keep a good job."
"Sorry," he said, with a slight growl, as she re-brushed the spot she'd spanked.
She moved quickly on to his tail.
"I'm glad you got the job with Goodfield, john. Be careful not to lose it."
"I am. It's not a big deal, though, it's what I trained for. My supervisor is teaching me things university never did. But it's nothing really new..."
He stopped in surprise; she was nuzzling the base of his tail.
"Is that for your scent?"
She licked under his tail; just a few gentle licks with the tip of her tongue.
"I like how you smell, john." She nuzzled his tail a little more, then brushed it again. "I'm going to remember you."
"Maybe... you don't..."
"Let's get you dressed."
She helped him into his shirt, underwear, trousers and shoes, careful not to muss his fur. She smoothed down his neck fur again as she closed the top button, then left him to his own tie and jacket.
"It'll be the usual routine," she said, as she took her own long-handled brush to her own back fur. "I'll wait one hour after you leave, then slip out unseen. Meanwhile I can use anything in your apartment as long as I'm quiet. And the cash is in an envelope on the kitchen table, I saw it."
Smith came and touched her brush. "Why don't you let me brush your back..."
"No!" she snarled.
Smith stepped back, stunned.
"I brush your fur," she said. "You do not brush mine. That's the rule."
"I don't understand!"
She sighed. "John, I have to keep some distance between myself and my... customers, so they stay customers. Otherwise I couldn't move on when it's time. That's why you don't brush my fur or kiss me and you don't know my name. It's the rules."
"Do you have to move on?"
She looked at him for a moment, longing in her eyes, then looked back into her hand mirror and brushed on her back fur again.
"You'll see," she said. "Don't be late for work."
#
Smith left the coffee on the machine's hot plate, a paper cup of it in his hand, as he walked briskly down the hall from his apartment. One of the other residents, a dark-furred girl with a white-and-brown star on her forehead, was already waiting at the elevators. She glanced at him as he approached, then quickly looked away. He stood on the far side of the doors. As they stood together, he heard a little sniff from her direction, glanced at her and saw her nose twitch. Before he looked away again, he saw her looking at him as if for the first time. He managed a couple more glances before the elevator door opened; once she was looking at him, once she wasn't. But he saw her looking up and down the hall before she got on with him. He faced the doors as usual.
"Hi," she said.
He looked at her; she was smiling at him.
"Hello?" he said.
"You're from 1706, aren't you?"
He nodded. "1709?"
She nodded back, timidly. "I see you sometimes. On the elevator. You're going to work?"
He nodded. "You?"
She nodded back. "Where is it? Where you work, I mean."
"Goodfield Mutual. I just started a couple of days ago."
"Oh? That's a good company! Do you sell? Insurance..."
"No, I'm an actuarial clerk. Junior."
"That's a good job." (They smiled at each other.) "I... noticed you before. I didn't want to talk to you, in case, you know..."
"I guess you wouldn't want to be seen talking to a loser," Smith joked.
"That's right! You're... you're not a loser now, though... so..."
Smith's ears dropped along with his jaw. He looked up at the floor indicator; it was just passing three.
"Um... well, maybe we could have a coffee after work some time, if..."
"There's a great little bistro two streets over!" she exclaimed. "I'll see you tonight. I guess I know where... to find you..."
The doors opened. Smith slipped out quickly, but the dark girl stayed on, smiling after him.
"Yeah, well, I'll, uh, see you then..." he managed, as the elevator doors closed. He turned away, towards the lobby door. "She saw me," he muttered, as he walked towards it. "She noticed me. But she didn't want to talk to me... because I was a loser. Now she's dragging me to a bistro. So what does that make me now?"
He pulled the lobby door open. A lady with her cubs was approaching. He'd seen her before and always held the door for her so she could get her cubs through. She always ignored him. This time, as she passed him at the door, her nose twitched. She turned to him and gave him a warning growl. She herded her cubs away fro him. He watched her, astonished, his coffee forgotten in his hand. Then he turned away again, shaking his head. He looked across the driveway to the street. Its double tide of cars washed past him, as it always had. He walked quickly along it to the bus stop. He glanced nervously at every face as he went, wondering if that's how the same faces had always looked before, watching for their noses to twitch.
Copyright © 2007 Allan D. Burrows, All Rights Reserved