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Guys, I have a confession. I am SERIOUSLY frickin' bored with this story, and if I'm bored writing it, I imagine you're probably bored reading it. So, with that said, I'm going to put up one more chapter of this to close it up, then we're on to a legitimate RWB sequel, because I miss mah violence, dammit. Anyway, comment. Rate. Ya'll know the drill.

Chapter 2: Slither

Antonia

Ugh, how do I get myself into these situations?

At least I didn't have to work in that abusive hellhole I call a job that night. But that still didn't mean I was necessarily thrilled to go to my roommate's boyfriend's best friend's band's concert when I could be doing something much more productive with my Saturday night, like painting my toe-claws, or repeatedly hitting my head against a wall. But Stacey is my best friend, and it wasn't often we got to go to something like this, so I sucked it up and dealt with it.

I'm sure Alex has already gotten halfway into the story by this point, but you know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm starting from where I damn well please. Oh, right, I have to make some introductions or some shit. Hi. I'm Antonia Schellenbach. I'm 21 years old. My friends call me Toni. You can call me Antonia.

The first thing I remember about that night is getting ready. I was blankly staring at my own reflection in the bathroom mirror, an unclothed German Shepherdess, with characteristic tan and white fur running down from my neck over my breasts and all the way down to my legs, and black fur dominating my rear side, extending around my hips and thighs as well. My chestnut hair tumbled around my ears and a few inches past my shoulders, and I applied makeup around my dark brown, almost black eyes. Sometimes I wondered if I was a bit too big; I knew I wasn't fat or anything, I just had lots of natural muscle (that's genetics for you) and some... curves. I was also aware that I wasn't a twig, which is what males, and even a lot of the females, around here seem to always go after.

Wow. I spoiled that pretty early, didn't I? Yup. Females. I'm into chicks. It takes a really special male to get even remotely close to me, and it almost never happened. Almost. Though strictly speaking, I had trouble getting with furs of the female persuasion as well. By the night of the concert, I hadn't had any semblance of sex with either gender for so long I just lost track after I hit six months. It's not like I had that much of a desire for it anyway. My aforementioned terrible job involved tending a bar in an underground club where rich and/or famous furs came to meet, hook up, and leave to go have casual sex. After working long shifts there for months now (I'm not actually allowed to tell you how I got the job, by the way), I had lost all taste for intimacy with someone who I didn't know for sure I could trust.

My contemplation was disrupted by the voice of my roommate Stacey Fawkes (who is a wolf. She is unfortunately named), calling from a different room that one of my bras got mixed up with hers. Even though nobody else was there to hear it, I still blushed from the random openness of the statement, and quickly shouted back, "Thank you, Stace. Glad you felt the need to scream that across the whole apartment. Besides, I did the laundry last. You're probably just seeing things, cus we both know I don't screw up." I heard my name called again, and much closer this time. I turned my head to the now opened bathroom door, and was greeted by getting the undergarment in question thrown in my face. "Toni. I'm not seeing things, and last time I checked, I do NOT have double-D's."

I made a futile attempt to cover myself in surprise, a black bra still hanging awkwardly on my snout, "GOD, STACEY! Knock next time, or something!" "Okay," my evidently unimpressed roommate responded, crossing her arms over her also bare chest, "The door was fucking OPEN. Besides, it's not like I've never seen you naked before, jeez. And quit looking at yourself like that. You're the only person I know who's self-conscious because she has big tits." First off, don't get the wrong idea from this conversation. Stacey's the absolute best friend I've ever had, and probably will ever have, but we get frustrated with each other sometimes and tease each other a LOT. Second, yes, I have huge knockers, yes, they're real, and yes, I hate them. They're a curse, really. You know when the last time a male looked at my face first was (besides Pavel and Alex. They have like, unbelievable discipline)? It was in the 7th grade. Eight. Fucking. Years of guys talking to my boobs. Doesn't help that my work requires me to dress like some sort of skank and shove them in patrons' faces either.

I picked the black bra off my nose and dropped it on the counter with a sigh, asking when Pavel, her boyfriend was coming to pick us up. "Half an hour," she said, "Not much time left, hurry up." "Oh shut up. You still need to get ready too. Or are you planning on showing up to the concert in your panties?" Stacey just kinda, I dunno, stood frustrated in the doorway for a few seconds. When we went out together, generally I got all of the attention, but in my very humble opinion, it should have been the other way around. Stacey's really pretty in a kinda... low-key way. She's a gray wolf, almost silver in color, with medium length brown hair that falls neatly over her shoulders. She has an almost athletic body structure, despite the fact that she's an English major who doesn't get in much exercise at all (that doesn't involve being on top of Pavel, at least), and even with her complaints about cup sizes, she isn't exactly flat, either. She doesn't have anything even close to mine, but she's by no means poorly endowed.

After staring me down for a few seconds, she stomped out of the bathroom and went to finish getting ready in her bedroom while I carried on. I finished fixing up my face and decided to don the bra Stacey had chucked at me, and I clasped it as I walked to my bedroom. Feeling a little adventurous, I grabbed a matching black thong from my drawer and slid it up over my thighs until it fit snugly just under my tail. Knowing myself, it wasn't like anybody else was ever going to see what I was wearing under my outerwear that night anyway; I just wanted to do something different. I pulled out a pair of short denim shorts and contemplated the fact that it was February on the middle of the East coast. Generally wearing shorts would be a frankly stupid idea, but considering we were going to be inside the whole time and I wanted a more daring outfit that night, I decided to wear them anyway, smirking contentedly as I buttoned them up and put on a rather boisterous belt.

Up top, I threw on a red sleeveless shirt that exposed much more cleavage than I would usually show. Which is none, by the way. I hate my rack, remember? Anyway, I covered my arms with a slightly torn denim jacket that matched my shorts and slipped a pair of black sandals on my feet. Lastly, I put in three pairs of quite shiny studs going up my ears, sprayed on perfume for the first time in God knows when, and tossed my hair one more time before looking in the mirror again. Hell yeah. I was fucking HOT. I was dressed to impress, and deep down inside I really hoped I might get to go home with a perfect guy or girl, but even deeper inside I knew it wouldn't be the one that I wanted. Nevertheless, I looked like a fucking million bucks, and I strutted out into the living room to meet Stacey.

"Hey Toni, finally. I was wondering when you'd finally get out of- HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!" Stacey had just looked up from the couch and seen me, and she was reasonably in shock. I looked to be putting myself out there a lot more than she was in her long sleeve black shirt, which cut down her chest to a not-too-scandalous length, some black jeans, and unremarkable shoes. She still looked really pretty, though. She always looked really pretty. Her outfit hugged her form perfectly, accenting every smooth line of her body, and... I was always a little jealous, I guess... But still. I looked great that night, so I just let it go. "Wow, Toni! I've never seen you dress like this on purpose before. You trying to impress someone or what?" "Maybe," I responded with mock-innocence, then laughed out loud. "No seriously, Toni! Who is it? Can you at least give me a gender?" "Nope, sorry honey." "Ugh, you're so frustrating! You're sure he/she/it's gonna be there tonight though?" "Positive." "Aw, I can't wait to see this. There's no way this fur's gonna be able to resist you!" Stacey was beaming right then. I loved her for sure, but she was so clueless.

We heard a knocking on the door, right on schedule, and we both went to go open it, ready to leave right away. Stacey was right; I was out to impress someone that night. Someone that I didn't have half a chance with. My roommate opened the apartment door, and a relatively thin brown and gray wolf, with unruly dark hair and soft eyes, wearing simply a black sweater and loose jeans, both hiding the true lean muscle that covered his body from head to toe, walked through the entrance. He was perfect. Always a gentleman, knowledgeable of just about everything, in phenomenal shape because he worked at a private security firm (this bit I doubted. I was fairly positive he was doing something far above "private security", but Stacey called me crazy whenever I mentioned it, so I just let it go). He might have been the greatest guy around. And he unknowingly broke my heart every time he did exactly has he did that evening. Pavel Svrbada handed Stacey a white rose, her favorite, then nearly swept her off her feet when he hugged and kissed her. I didn't want to admit it. I really didn't want to admit it, but I had a huge crush on my best friend's boyfriend.

After embracing Stacey for what seemed an eternity, Pavel finally looked at me. He stood speechless for at least ten seconds while I just gave him a warm smile. He finally caught himself and spoke through his somewhat diminishing Slovak accent, "Toni... I don't know what to say..." "Then don't say anything," I almost whispered. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but I knew I couldn't, so I settled for wrapping him up in a close hug, and forced myself to let him go after a few seconds.

I spent the car ride to the joint where Alex was gonna do his thing in practical silence while Pavel and Stacey chummed it up in the front seats. I didn't know Alex real well. I knew he worked with Pavel, I knew he was Russian, and I knew he looked like he could kill me a lot easier than Pavel could. He was kinda cute too, I guess. But two things prevented me from ever remotely giving a shit: 1) I had met his girlfriend once or twice, too. As a bisexual, I knew if I had a chick that hot, I wouldn't let her go, so I don't think a guy like Alex would even think about it. Though I think Pavel did mention at one point that Alex might have been fooling around with someone else. If that vixen was what his actual girlfriend looked like, I didn't even want to know what his mistress did. Not that I even cared though because 2) at least in my opinion, Pavel was way cuter. You wouldn't think it because he's not that big, but he has some serious muscle. One time I went out into the living room one morning after he had spent the night, and he was standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers. It was at that point I realized he had deeply cut and defined biceps and washboard six-pack abs. For a brief moment I was about to immediately retreat back into my room to "contemplate" his physique a little longer, but I thought better of it. Yeah yeah call me horny or whatever I don't care. I hadn't had any in months, remember? You would get a little hot and bothered if some smoking specimen of a sex you were attracted to strutted half-naked around your apartment, too. So what if I fantasized about him once or twice? (... a week...)

I didn't even really get where the change had come from. I didn't even like Pavel when he first showed up. Maybe I was just jealous that he was taking some of Stacey's attention from me. I had always kinda liked her, too. She seemed to only be into males though, so that hadn't happened unfortunately. Regardless, Pavel and I became friends a couple weeks after he started dating Stacey, and I developed feelings for him shortly thereafter. Again, not that he'd ever find out.

The venue where the band was playing was bigger than I expected. Wasn't exactly the Verizon Center, but not just some shithole dive either. I was also shocked at the number of cars there. I had no idea Alex's band was a big deal. Especially with a stupid name like Hawt Proxy. What in the fuck did that even mean? Pavel found a parking spot, and we walked in, the wolves paw in paw, as the show was about to start.

After Pavel briefly consulted with his teammates and what looked to be his boss and an Australian hooker at a table close to the bar, the three of us descended onto the audience floor, a sizable expanse. Pushing our way toward the front, we eventually found Natalya and her friends standing right in front of the stage as the lights went out. Stacey tapped the vixen, looking phenomenal as always in an unpresumptuous purple long sleeve shirt and jeans, on the shoulder, and she turned around and smiled before hugging the wolfess. "Hey! I was beginning to think you weren't gonna make it!" "You can blame my driver," Stacey replied, nodding at Pavel. Natalya quickly introduced us to her other friends: Stephanie, a white cat with black hair dressed similarly to Stacey; Leah, a golden... Golden with blonde hair and a dumb smile; and Jen, a stark white arctic fox with straight black hair and creepily entrancing bright green eyes.

There wasn't much time for introductions, however, as the hum of the amplifiers began to drown everything else out. I looked back one more time and I could have sworn I saw that blonde skanky dingo that had been at Pavel's crew's table working her way up to the stage, but maybe I was seeing things.

We were right in front of the stage, about six feet above the floor, a little to the right of center. Fog flooded the stage, obscuring anyone or anything on it. I could faintly see the silhouettes of maybe two or three members taking the stage, and the lights went completely out. Suddenly I heard a snare drum hit, followed by a simple, slow beat. With it came in the bass, each note pounding through the floor and reverberating up through my feet. One guitar was doing something that produced a kind of scratching or scraping noise, and white lights began to dance across the stage, though the band was still invisible. The scratching guitar proceeded to play a series of light chords while the drumline and bassline stayed the same, and a second guitar held one note. Then everything stopped.

I faintly heard a low voice that came from the back of the stage, probably the drummer, shout, "One, two, three, GO!" and the lights shot on as the whole band came in at once. The guitars were playing a riff that I easily recognized. It was from a band I listened to every so often, Velvet Revolver. If I remembered correctly, Slash is the lead guitarist of that band, and depending on how good Alex was, I thought that might have been kind of an ambitious opener.

The first band member I noticed was the singer, a hyena with some serious dreads, clothed in a plain white wifebeater and tattered dark jeans that seemed to barely stay on his hips. He picked up the micstand with both paws and carried it a few steps as he shouted the vocalizations of the beginning of the song. To the singer's left were a tiger, tightly gripping his bass and wearing a Washington Capitals t-shirt, which had apparently had its sleeves torn off by paw, and a pair of black cargo pants, and a coyote, with a noticeable flip in the front of his hair, playing a guitar and donning a Black Keys tee and plaid shorts. Behind the singer was a ginormous wolf playing the drums, and that's about all I could tell, because, you know, drum kit. And finally on the right was the only familiar face, Alexei Pavlov. He was clad in an open gray flannel shirt with a plain black shirt on underneath and blue jeans, and he played a cool looking, curvy guitar that was black on the edges but gradually got lighter brown closer to the center, except for the entire part where he was strumming, which was completely white.

Alex stepped to the front of the stage and played something that sounded like a higher version of the song's main riff before dropping back to play a muted version. The singer held the microphone in one paw and the micstand in the other as he sang the opening lyrics of the song. He stopped briefly to give Alex another fill on the guitar, then continued the lyrics. After the verse finished, the coyote sang some kind of "Ahh" thing into his microphone, and the beast of a drummer played a fill using just the kick and snare drums. The rhythm guitarist played some chords, Alex played a lead, and the singer leaned over the edge of the stage and started singing the chorus, practically slithering as the words "Yeah, here comes the water, it comes to wash away the sins of you and I" echoed through the place. A few of the girls and maybe even one or two guys liked that a lot.

After repeating the verse and chorus again, this time with an extended chorus and the coyote joining in on it, the band mostly went quiet and the lights went out. The drummer played a slow, heavy beat and the bassline continued as white lights danced across the stage. It looked like there was some movement going on, but I couldn't really tell. Everything stopped again. The drummer hit the snare once, the lights shot on and focused mainly on center stage, where Alex now stood instead of the hyena. I could see him bending a string and moving his left paw up the neck some as he started the solo, and after a few seconds I had absolutely no clue what he was doing, but it sounded really impressive. He stepped right up to the edge of the stage and slid over to where we were, then finished the last part of his showing off in front of Natalya. Ah, young love. It is worth noting at this point I did definitely see the dingo again, a couple feet away. At first she was admiring Alex, looking like one of those cartoons where hearts pop over a character's head when they look at a love interest. Then, when he went to the fox, she crossed her arms and looked... I dunno... indignant almost. Like she thought she owned Alex and Natalya was infringing on her property. I assumed she was bonkers, but I made a mental note to ask Pavel about her after the show.

After Alex finished up, he hopped back to stage right while the singer jumped back to center stage and belted out the final verse, the rest of the band playing very, very loudly. After one more chorus, the band played through the riff again, then did some sort of ending variation and the song finished. There was a lot of cheering. Based on what Natalya's friends were screaming, I pieced together that we were with the rest of the band's girlfriends as well, which didn't really make me feel good, because that hammered home the fact that I was the only one in the group who wasn't getting any. As the singer began to introduce his band, I looked over to find Stacey resting comfortably in Pavel's arms, and wondered to myself if that frickin' dingo came cheap.