FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The cremello-colored mare's pastel blue eyes focused sharply on the crystal screen before her, studying every word, mark of punctuation, and turn of phrase of the document that she was perusing. At one point, she snorted faintly, making the student on the other side of her desk draw his eyebrows together, perhaps wondering what she had found amusing in the draft of the Masters dissertation she was going through. Generally speaking, such documents aren't meant to cause laughter.

Corinne Wind Runner, PhD, had been amused by the elegance of a turn of phrase, not by anything actually comical. Jerry was a talented writer, and he probably could take his degree to the doctoral level with comparative ease. The question was exactly how much of the collegiate political crap he was willing to put up with along the way. The young otter was clever and determined, but not necessarily politically savvy. She might be able to help with that, having fought her own battles to get to her current faculty position, as well as the battles she continued to wage against the old guard. Being female was bad enough; being female, intelligent, Native American, and having pulled herself up by her own white-gold tail was all but unforgivable. Despite positive change over the last several centuries, males - especially those already in power - were still fundamentally males.

Jerry, part of her brain mused, was an exception. Being gay didn't hurt matters; gay males, she thought, seemed to be able to see past their testosterone, at least in societal terms. Conversely, in bed, the genitalia and hormones still held their ancient power. Occasionally, she envied this. For males to bed anything they wanted, regardless of gender or even developed sentience, was considered normal or even laudatory as being "studly" and "really male"; females wishing to satisfy the cravings of old were considered "whores" and "sluts." She wondered, briefly, what a world might be like if it had no such emotional and social blackmail based upon nothing but words.

The mare tapped a button on her computer, leaned back, smiling. "You're on track, Jerry, and the work is up to par at the very least. I liked your commentary about Southey; the dissertation committee will probably want some actual dissection instead of just the commentary, so if you can find some more sources, it would help."

"I can do that; thank you." The otter nodded, then shifted uncomfortably. "Anything else?"

"Yes," the mare said softly, leaning forward again. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jerry, I've known you too long. Yes, you're on track, doing fine... and that's usually not enough for you. When you come to me for these conferences, you're generally pages ahead of your stated goals, usually with more material than I could have suggested in the first place. That, and your tail tip has been beating out a steady tattoo since you sat down and handed me your pin drive." She grinned at him. "I'm not just your thesis advisor, I'm your friend. Or at least I hope that I am. So spill the dish, girlfriend."

In spite of himself, Jerry laughed. "All right. Off the record?"

"Naturally. Just speak slowly and clearly into the cup full of pencils."

The otter sobered. "I mean it, Cory."

The mare blinked in surprise. Jerry's voice was low and filled with more emotion than she had thought the situation merited. "Should we take this elsewhere?"

Jerry visibly cringed at the phrase.

"Jerry, are you all right? We could go get a coffee, or a drink if you think you--"

"No. That's okay." He put a webbed forepaw to his brow for a moment. "I really want to talk to you, but we need to keep this more than simply quiet. Some of the faculty doesn't like me because I'm gay; at the risk of sounding like something out of Masterpiece Theater, there's plenty of scandal possible, even in our enlightened age."

"More scandalous than an Injun mare who was supposed to be bred for foals and who instead got herself a track scholarship, worked up to a PhD, and can still trot rings around her so-called colleagues? Puh-leeze." She issued what could only properly be called a horse laugh and was pleased to see that it helped Jerry lighten up a bit. "That's better," she soothed. "Would you like to tell me what happened, or do you want me to play Twenty Questions?"

The mare caught her breath; was that unkind? Sometimes, when trying to be cajoling or funny, she cut a little too close to the mark. She let the breath out softly when Jerry began to speak.

"I want to say that I met someone, or that he met me, but that sounds like a nice introduction at a coffee bar. That's not how it happened. It was..." The otter paused, choosing his words carefully. "...less sophisticated than that."

"Are there other places to meet males?"

Jerry squirmed a little. It was unusual to see the otter so uncomfortable; usually, he was quite brash and open about everything.

"Never mind that," Cory waved the notion aside. "You met a male. Is it becoming a serious relationship?"

"I don't know." The otter's eyes squeezed shut. "It wasn't supposed to be."

"Why not?"

"He's straight."

The mare paused, realizing that there was something much more complicated here than a simple snide comment like_Apparently not_ would help. "I'm not sure that I understand, Jerry. You seem quite distraught about this, so I have to assume that the relationship is more than merely friendly. Is that right? The relationship is intimate?"

"It is now."

"So it's built itself into something sexual."

"No. It started out as sexual and has become intimate."

Cory's brain skipped so hard that she actually blinked. "Jerry, we need to start at the beginning. Where did you meet this male? Or should I ask_how_ did you meet him?"

The otter didn't seem to be aware of several audible thumps made by his tail. It sounded like a warning sign, a signal of danger, although Cory had no idea to whom. The otter's face began to darken with a blush under his golden fur that appeared to be painful.

"Jerry, I'm not a prude, and I'm in no position to judge anyone. You'd be amazed by what a female faculty member has to do even to get a quick roll in the hay, you should pardon the expression. And considering that I'm barely past forty, I resent young males who try to call me a 'cougar.' If you've got a way for me to attract a male into some discreet whoopee, I'm all for it."

This actually made Jerry laugh, and his blush deepened. "I don't think it would work for you. You're not allowed in."

"An all-males club?"

"Sort of." The otter held up his paws to forestall further protestations of making her wait for the answers. "I don't know how you'll take this... in the basement of the library, there's -"

The mare's eyebrows rose significantly. "The glory hole!"

The student was stunned, his eyes like saucers. "How...?"

Cory chuckled. "Worst kept secret in the college, Jerry, and not the only one of its kind. It's nothing new. I've heard - quite confidentially, of course - that glory holes have been part of this college since the 50s at the very least. How do you think those uptight males survived that white-shirt-skinny-black-tie conservatism? The one in the library basement has been around for decades. Once in a while, someone tries to put in a new partition, but the hole mysteriously reappears. It'll keep doing so until they stop putting the stalls next to one another... and even then, someone will figure out a new system."

Clearing his throat, Jerry shifted in his chair. "You don't seem shocked."

"By sex?" The mare shook her head, the white-gold mane dancing softly. "The only thing shocking about sex is the number of people who are shocked by it. Procreative sex is necessary to keep a species going. Recreational sex can be equally necessary for the sanity of any species. No being can remain wholly sane without physical contact, which may or may not be sexual, but why the hell shouldn't it be sexual?"

"You sound like you approve of the glory hole."

Cory expressed her dismissal with the bilabial fricative that equines are most famous for. "It seems to serve a purpose. I'd make a wager that it's a popular spot for straight males to get what they can't find a female to do for them." She made a connection in her mind. "So you met this male there, for the intended purpose, and for that reason you assume he's straight."

"He told me that he's straight."

"You spoke with him? I thought that was against the rules of anonymity."

"I recognized him anyway. The first time, he left quickly; the second time, he lingered, and I thought he might want to talk about it." The ice broken, Jerry seemed much more at ease. "I gave him a card with my name and cell number. I told him to talk to me about it if he wanted to. He protested then and there that he was straight, and I agreed with him entirely. That's what I wanted to talk to him about - that having your..." The otter cleared his throat. "That receiving such... attention didn't make him gay."

"That's very considerate of you. You should have been a psychology major; you've the makings of a good counselor."

"Only on an amateur basis. Besides... I seem to be wrong."

The professor shifted in her chair, leaned her chin against a propped fist. "How do you figure?"

"I know this young male, by reputation. Most of the school does, perhaps the whole town. That's why this needs to be kept quiet."

"A local celebrity?" The horse nickered softly, her whole nose wriggling with the equine chuckle. "Well, I'm certain that the jocks here know of the glory hole, and I wouldn't be surprised if most took advantage of it at one time or another." She noted the trapped look on the otter's face and waved a placating forepaw. "I won't ask. You mentioned a reputation, so I'm assuming that your assumption of his heterosexuality is based on that."

"Absolutely. If notched his belt, it would probably look like an old fashioned ticker tape. There would be more holes than belt."

Cory grinned. "That narrows the field a bit more, but I'm not here to play guessing games. Tell me what happened with him. Something, apparently, has changed."

The sleek golden-furred otter slumped back in his chair, folded his arms against himself as if he were cold. Head down, he sighed. "Maybe I should have seen this coming."

The mare avoided the obvious joke. "How so?"

"He started coming over to my apartment, at first for sex, but then more for talking. That part was expected; you see, I'd hoped that I'd been giving him some insights into his relationships with females. It got so that we might or might not have sex, but even when we did, he'd find reasons to linger, to talk." Jerry smiled. "I got him hooked on good tea. Even taught him a bit about the_chado,_ the way of tea. Not the full ceremony, mind you; he's much too fidgety to sit through several hours of focusing on the moment. Me too, probably."

In the pause, Cory tilted her head, ears forward. "I think I understand your earlier comment, that it's moved from sexuality to intimacy. What happened?"

"A kiss." Jerry looked into his advisors eyes directly, and she saw the depths of his confusion as clearly as if she felt them inside herself. "We'd kissed before, or at least our mouths were pretty active. I don't trust a guy in my bed if he doesn't kiss me; if we're going to be that close together, he's got to want it enough to show some level of intimacy, even if it's only grinding our maws together. But when he came over a few nights ago..." The otter paused, as if gathering the courage to continue. "He didn't want sex. He wanted to sleep with me. He wanted to hold me, just stay the night with me... something he's never done with a female, even once. He said..."

The mare simply nodded once, still looking into his eyes.

Jerry took a huge breath and whispered, "He said that he wanted to experience what it was like to be with someone just because they were there. Not because of sex. Not because of... because of cumming. To trust to something that wasn't just physiology." The otter swallowed past the lump in this throat with an audible click. "He said words to me that he had never said to anyone else. He stayed the night, and the next morning, he said them."

The question was a cliché, but it needed to be asked. "How did that make you feel?"

"I couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything. And then he... he rubbed my back for me, massaged me. He'd never... it was always me, I always instigated whatever happened, I was the one who... did things for him. To him. That morning..." The cheeks burned red under the otter's golden fur. "He... he rolled me over onto my back, and he... he moved himself down the bed, and... he didn't even want reciprocation. I wasn't even sure that I could get myself to... He kissed his way down my stomach... his muzzle was... he'd never done anything like that before, and he... he was so eager to please me, and even with my doubts, I got... I was aroused, I was... almost painful... and he didn't stop, and I didn't either, and after, he looked up at me, he grinned at me, and he held my eyes locked with his, and he... he said..."

In all honesty to herself, Cory thought this perhaps the most romantic love story she'd heard in a very long time. "No one has said it to you before?"

"Almost never before. And definitely not like this." The young grad student seemed on the verge of tears. "And very definitely not from someone like Harris."

The moment froze. The otter's eyes exploded open in horror even as the mare's mind registered the name and made the connections. Swiftly, she put up her forepaws, her white-feathered arms shaking gently. "Trust me, Jerry. Trust me. It's okay."

After a long moment, the otter calmed himself enough to sit back in his chair, withdrawn, trembling as if about to cry. He jumped at the knock on the door. Cory got up and opened it a crack, seeing the young female Husky who was her student assistant. "Some mail for you, Dr. Wind Runner. Seemed important. Anything I can do for you?"

The mare took the envelope, glanced back at her student, then back to the young pup. "You could do me a very huge favor, Buniq. My student and I could really use some of that new salted caramel cocoa from the Student Union. Fetch and carry is definitely not part of your job description, and you've got every right to say no."

The Husky grinned at her. "It's hardly the Iditarod, Doc. I'd be glad to."

Cory dug into her pants pocket and pulled out some bills. "Please help yourself to something, won't you?"

"Thanks - I've wanted to try that brew myself. Three large?"

"A suggestion of genius; act on it instantly."

Buniq grinned, snapped off a quick salute and was gone. Cory closed the door and returned to her desk. She took a half-second to glance at the letter, recognized the carefully chosen words of a painfully polite letter making an academic request, and tossed it casually into her recycle pile. She folded her forepaws and leaned on the desk, considering her student carefully. "I can see why you're worried about scandal," she said softly. "But that's not what's important here, is it?"

Ruefully, Jerry shook his head.

"You said this happened... what, a few days ago? Has he asked to see you since?"

"He had an away game last night. Said he was going to get back too early in the morning, didn't want to wake me. He wants to see me tonight."

"Will you see him?"

"I think I kind of have to."

"You don't 'have to' anything, Jerry, and you know it." The mare softened her voice. "You'd probably do both of you a big favor if you talk to each other. This is not a closet you want to stay in."

Jerry looked faintly aghast. "What do you mean? I'm not in the closet."

"You are where this is concerned. Ash Beckham said it best: A closet is any hard conversation that you're not having with someone else. It might be telling your child that you're getting a divorce, or telling someone you love that you have brain cancer. Anything important that you hold back, when you really need to talk about it, is a closet. Yours is telling Harris what you feel."

The otter's tail thumped out his anxiety. "I don't know what I feel."

"That's the conversation that you need to have." She looked at him with all the sympathy she could muster. "I'd be glad to be a sounding board, if that would help."

Slowly, Jerry raised his head and looked into his professor's eyes, and much-needed tears began to fall.

* * * * *

Buniq Lightfoot waved at the other two assistants in the front office of the English department before heading back to Dr. Wind Runner's office. Deftly, she removed one of the three tall cups of hot liquid from the egg-carton-like carry tray and set it on her desk before performing a perfect pirouette and moving down the hallway. She had considered dance as a major at one point, but in all honesty, she was a more full-figured female than was usually considered the right size for most types of dance. Not a bit of her was flab; for once, the term "big boned" was accurate and, as far as she was concerned, a compliment. She enjoyed her dance-style exercises, and she was a good addition to the chorus of any musical. Besides as someone told her at some point, it's often a mistake to make what you love into what you do for a living.

Passing down the hall, she nodded to Professor Benedict Spenser, the tall, flamboyant crimson dragon of the department, whose nose went up significantly as she passed - not as an insult, but to register the scent in the cups. "Salted caramel cocoa," Buniq said grinning. "Student Union."

"The barbarians have done something well for a change? Shall wonders never cease?"

"Why then should witless furs so much misweene, that nothing is but that which he hath seene?"

The drake stopped short in his tracks and pivoted. "My namesake! And_The Faerie Queen_ -- astonishing! You're not even a graduate student! Why have I not adopted you for my own student slave?"

"Because I'm female!" the Husky chuckled.

"Mmm," the dragon nodded thoughtfully, "there is that..."

Reaching Dr. Wind Runner's door, she knocked, announcing, "Cocoa's Delivery Service!" She paused, expecting perhaps a laugh or a groan, or at least an invitation to enter, but she heard nothing. The manners instilled in her from her puppyhood prevented her from knocking again too quickly. Seconds passed - did she hear a sound from within? Was something wrong? After a proper interval, she knocked again, more quietly as if not to intrude, or not to attract attention from open office doors up and down the corridor. "Doctor?" she asked softly.

Some little time passed, and finally the door opened. The mare appeared worn out, but in otherwise good spirits. She reached for the cup holder. "Thank you, Buniq. Did I give you enough money?"

"Your change is in the cup holder. Doc, are you all right?"

"My student is having something of a crisis. We're talking it through." A small smile appeared on the teacher's face. "Sometimes, an advisor is also a counselor. This will really help. Thank you."

"How else may I help?"

Considering for a moment, the mare nodded. "You do a good enough job as it is, Buniq."

"It's my nature." She smiled. "I'll see to having the front office hold any calls that come through."

"Correction," the teacher smiled softly. "You do an excellent job."

The Husky stepped back and let the professor close her door gently. She knew who the student was, and although she was one of the few in the department who had no real interest in gossip, she couldn't help but wonder what was wrong. She doubted that it had anything to do with his classes; the otter's academic reputation was splendid. It was probably a more personal problem, then.

For most people working in an academic environment, that realization would turn thoughts toward how the information could be used to manipulate loyalties and downgrade opinions regarding academic work - all the ways that such knowledge could be leveraged to prevent someone else from getting recognition, advancement, tenure. Such was the cesspool of collegiate departmental politics. For Buniq, the realization brought forth the hope that the problem would be reconciled with hope and affection. First Peoples have a different way of looking at things. Those who have dozens of words for "snow" know that the world is cold enough as it is.