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"Hey, Pris!"

The female Papillion stopped, pivoted her head toward the sound, her butterfly-like ears perking upward, long dark fringe dancing in the afternoon breeze. Her keen eyes found the source of the call quickly, and she grinned. "Antonia!" she called. "Thought you were up at the House."

Smirking slightly, the immaculately groomed, fashionably dressed Pomeranian closed the distance between them. "On a football afternoon? Are you insane? They'd have us both redecorating the whole sorority for an after-party, if we can get some of the team to attend." She made a face. "Apart from the waterboys and the male cheerleaders."

"You don't like them?"

"Drags and fags, not my idea of a good time." Her grin contained the faintest hint of malice that her type of sorority girl usually brings with her from high school. "Now, if you felt like sharing your cute fullback puppy...!"

Pris slapped her girlfriend's arm playfully. "No, I saw him first, and I'm saving him!"

"What are you saving him from, dearie?"

"Not from, for!" The Papillion laughed. "He's special. He might be The One, with capital letters. So I'm trying not to ruin it."

"What's to ruin?" the smaller pup said, with all seriousness. "Everything's washable, including sheets, clothing, and bodies. Don't try to tell me you're trying to salvage some kind of reputation? You're a sorority girl. If you ain't done it, everyone will assume you have anyway, so you might as well be shot for a sheep as a lamb."

Hoping to buy a moment to think, Pris just laughed. She was never entirely sure when Antonia was telling the truth or simply being outrageous. She was, after all, one of the quite rightly infamous Baker Girls; her three older sisters had gone though this college, and this sorority, each one with a long chain of broken hearts dragging behind them like an extra, seductive, precancerous tail.

Adopting a prim and proper voice (despite the smile on her muzzle), Pris said, "I'll have you know, Sister Baker, I've had my share of experiences with males. Somehow, Zachary Parker is different. He's not the one-night stand type, and he's not the stay-steady-for-regular-sex type, either."

Clucking her tongue, the Pom laughed. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually have conversations with him? In the name of free love and feminism, puh-leeze tell me that you do more than just that with your mouth!"

"Antonia, it's a wonder anyone cares to know you." The Pap felt her cheeks reddening furiously under her fur. Even her wing-like ears seemed warm.

"Well what else do males court females for? In their first post-pubescent years, at least. First, they find their own paw; then they find a female's maw; after that, they find the honey pot, and it's all over - they'll want nothing else until they realize that a good female can actually run a house, keep the accounts, and provide real support for him. Just like Mommy used to make. Except there are better benefits, unless you've got a real kinkster on your paws."

Pris sputtered. "Antonia!"

"I'm just telling it real, girlfriend. Are you saying that he hasn't tried?"

"As a matter of fact, he hasn't." The Pap felt much better for being able to say something with such certainty. It was true... technically. He had enough manners to ask rather than simply start groping. They had advanced to a stage of deep kissing - he was, she thought fondly, a very good kisser - and holding each other very close. They'd talked about doing more, each expressing an uncertainty for reasons neither really understood, and for the time being at least, he seemed content to cuddle and kiss and talk in the quiet darkness of a summer's night.

"What's his problem, then? Is he gay?"

Pris stopped in her tracks, whirling on Antonia, maw open, shocked to the core. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Because he's male, dear." The Pomeranian seemed utterly unconcerned by the idea. "It's purely biological, you know. Testosterone. They've gotta get rid of that build-up one way or another. Of course, he's a jock, so he can get rid of a lot of it during practice and the games. Or maybe in the locker room!"

The flash of anger that ran through Pris' mind - in fact, her entire body - was stopped quickly when she looked up. The sensation of a wicked smile on her maw, she said, "Why don't you ask him yourself? He's right there." She waved to the tall Akita and called to him. "Hi, Zachary. Got a minute? Antonia wants to ask you a question."

Suddenly, the Pom seemed to have somewhere else to be, and very fast. With strength she didn't know she had, Pris held on to her arm and kept the small pup from moving.

"Hi, Antonia," Parker said simply. "Coming to the game tonight?"

"Of course!" she said, trying to smile past what was obviously a very painful grip.

"What did you want to ask?"

"Just to know if you might bring some friends with you to the after party at the sorority house." She yanked her arm away from Pris with a yelp, moving quickly out of her range. "Gotta go - preparations to make for our winning team!"

The Papillion watched the pup run away as if actually frightened by something. The first emotion that she felt was one of angry pride - that'll show the little bitch. And somewhere after that, another emotion tried to make itself known, although she didn't quite know what it was, or what it was trying to tell her. If she had to guess, it would be somewhere in the vicinity of uncertainty, the kind of self-questioning usually associated with loss.

Parker put his arm around Pris' shoulders and squeezed gently. "What was that all about?"

The young female leaned against the Akita, her head coming up to about the middle of his chest. She smelled exercise on him, a hasty shower, perhaps not caring at this point, what with more quick scrimmaging and a game tonight. She didn't mind. The soap was a light scent, something woodsy, that seemed to mix well with the sweat in his fur. It was comforting, and if she were to admit it to herself, she suspected that she would be more than comforted if she were to bury her muzzle into the deeply personal places of the muscled footballer. The scent was... alluring.

She was not a stranger to such things. Antonia had known her for too long, and the bitch was good at building trust and stealing information. Pris was neither a virgin nor a prude, at least so far as she was concerned. There had been acts of affection that became acts of fumbling exploration, and with Rory, the cliché junior prom night had been for her the self-fulfilling prophecy of so many high school females. He wasn't much more advanced in his sexual schooling than she, but at least he was as attentive as a scared young male could be, and he knew the proper use of contraception. He was a slightly geeky Dalmatian who still hadn't quite grown into his body, a senior at 16 and a nice guy who just wanted the same sort of chances that the other males bragged about.

The deed had been accomplished in proper fashion, in the comfort of a motel room that the senior had been saving up for over the month or so prior to the dance. With almost clinical precision, they had managed to avoid fondling each other until they had removed and set aside their formal clothes, knowing that they would have to undergo scrutiny from both sets of parents later. For a first encounter, each had sets of expectations and artificial standards that the activities would be measured against, he from some pornographic websites that he had hacked into, she from "bodice-rippers" and more contemporary works of "romantic fiction" that featured bare-chested males on their covers. Various attempts were made to experience the things that they had discovered separately, and given their hyper-excited state, the time of eight minutes and twenty-two seconds for the combined activities was quite respectable. Rory had taken the precaution of masturbating in the males' room at the dance, thus avoiding the embarrassing cliché of climaxing immediately upon entering her. Her insistent movements had made him pop within forty seconds, but it was still a respectable attempt.

Strangely, Pris remembered, there was something like an afterglow, perhaps more because of Rory's exhaustion than from his tenderness as a lover. Porn, after all, doesn't waste film on afterglows. Even so, he had held her close to him as he regained his breath, and Pris found herself wondering how that should be logged in her appraisal of the event. She'd gotten what she wanted, as had he, but she wondered if there were something more, perhaps something... important. It was only later that she decided that the "important" thing was still in her future, something she would have to discover in another way. Perhaps Rory thought the same; They had seen each other a few times after that, but only for chat and casual dining. Neither knew quite why.

"Don't mind her," Pris managed to say through her conflicting thoughts. "She's just worried that she's not going to meet her weekend quota."

Parker blinked. "Where did that come from?"

"I'm sorry, Zachary." She sighed, put her arms around him as best she could - he's so big, she couldn't quite touch her fingers around him, so big and solid, smells good... "I guess sometimes we females can be pretty rotten."

She blinked. It was as if he'd stiffened suddenly, almost like trying to move away from her. She looked up into his face, his eyes - what was that?

"Are you not playing tonight?"

"Sure," he said, his voice sounding slightly off. "Back for the pre-game stuff in about an hour or so. I... wanted to talk to you. Thought you might be at the sorority house, someone said they thought you had gone to the Union. I started walking in this direction..."

"I've got my cell with me. Why didn't you call?"

"I wanted to see you. I mean..." He hesitated again. She didn't understand what was going on. It was almost like Rory, in a way. The pauses, the uncertainties... but why from Zachary? He was a college senior, a starting fullback, not some geeky high school senior who was a fail-safe - if it hadn't happened, it wouldn't have been that big a deal. That's what she had decided before she had decided to let it happen. She couldn't let it be a big deal, not until she found a male who would really be worth keeping, if it turned out that way. Then she could let it be important.

"Come here," she coaxed him, leading him to a nearby bench. The quad was loaded with them, and since it was Friday afternoon, and classes had been over for an hour or more, the place was all but deserted. They sat down, Pris curling up against him as he put his arm around her. She felt protected, safe, and her nose was close to his armpit, and she couldn't help sniffing him, her mind registering something very warm, very personal. Combined with her memories of Rory, she was surprised that she hadn't started creating some scent herself... She regained herself as quickly as she could. "Now tell me, what's going on?"

He paused, looking out across the quad, his jaw tight. She felt his tail twitch behind him; he seemed unaware of it. She curled her own tail close to herself. The feeling of one of Those Talks hung in the air around them. Pris had always hated Those Talks; it took too much effort, even when she knew is that best thing to do.

"Pris, I wanted to talk about our relationship." His arm squeezed her close, reassuringly. "I don't want to break it off or anything, don't worry about that. It's just... maybe I just wonder where we're going. I really like you, and I like spending time with you." He turned to look at her, a tentative smile on his face. "And thanks for your help on the history exam. I had everything out of order."

She leaned against him, her own sort of hug in this position. "Good to know the right order of things."

"Like what to do next." The look on his face changed to an expression she couldn't read. "I guess that's what I'm asking. I'd like to take you out after the game, although..." His hesitations were almost painful to her. When did he become so indecisive? "What I'd really like is to... take you home with me."

Her heart skipped a beat, although if she were telling the truth, it was not so much from excitement as fear. "I see."

From the tension in his body, she could tell that she'd not given the answer he had hoped for.

"Zachary, I'm just not sure." She used her most cajoling voice on him. "You've been so very special for me, and I guess I'm afraid of ruining what we've got."

"What have we got?"

The question was simple enough, but she wasn't sure that she had a ready answer. "I guess I just don't want to rush things. I feel very strongly about you."

"What is it you're worried about?"

"I'm not really sure I know. It just seems quick to me."

"Four months. And I knew you by sight even before that first date of ours." His voice tried to be joking, but there was an edge in it. "Got someone else in mind? Another male caught your eye?"

"No," she said, more firmly than she'd intended. "No other male."

He shifted, taking his arm from around her and turning on the bench to look at her directly. His eyes seemed a much darker copper brown than usual. "Priscilla, I need to know. Are we going to become lovers or not?"

Self-preservation kicked in, and an unwarranted chuckle escaped her muzzle before she could stop it. "Why is this so important to you?"

Parker seemed surprised by her answer, although she couldn't understand why. It was just a question.

"Are you saying it's not important?"

"No!" She made her face look annoyed, as something feral settled in her stomach, and ice water poured into her veins. "Of course it's important. It's just not a big deal." Even she could hear how hollow and ridiculous her words sounded. "I mean it's not that urgent. Why do we have to make this decision tonight? Why is it so important right now?"

"It's not sudden," he insisted, sounding more upset than she would have expected. "I've been wondering about it for a while now. It's just... I just don't see what it is that we're waiting for." He took her forepaws into his own. "Look, I'll come pick you up after the game, and we'll go back to my place, and we'll talk more. Just talk."

"If we go back to your place, it won't be for just talk, will it?" The smile on her face felt frozen even to her. She was hiding somewhere inside of herself, sensing that she was still part of her body, but that her body had been replaced, taken over. It wasn't fair of him to demand like this. This was important to her, or at least it could be. If Parker really was the one she could make a life with after school, then she couldn't let him win too soon; he'd get bored and go somewhere else, that was what she had learned by watching all the other sorority girls, all the Antonias and Lisa-Annes and Tiffanys and Buffys, the way they treated their quick playmates and party boys, like that stud-muffin of a lion from the junior varsity. This is how it worked with guys, and she didn't want to lose Parker to that kind of treatment.

"It'll be just talk if that's all you want," the Akita murmured. "But I have to know."

"Know what? Zachary..." Inside herself, the Papillion felt something turn over inside her, something large and lazy and not entirely her. She felt the ice smile coming back again, and it was like Anotnia's voice came out of her muzzle. "What's the matter? You got some other female out there?"

Time shattered. Pris felt the first moment stretch impossibly. From the place where she hid, looking out through eyes that she knew he couldn't read or see into, she could see Parker's own eyes change color yet again, even as he stared back at her. His face, the set of his muzzle, the ears splayed painfully to the sides, the overall look of him like nothing she'd ever seen before, nothing that she could possibly understand, something feral and frightening, something that was at least as scared as she was, but she couldn't help him, couldn't help herself, couldn't make herself say anything...

And then came the next moment, when she was sure that Parker too had been taken over by something, someone else. His jaw clenched, his lips curled and showed fangs - in some places, that was considered assault, even if he weren't touching her. The ears flattened backward, preparing for an attack. A low, vicious sound deep in his chest... Her impulse was to recoil from him, even though he hadn't moved.

The Akita yanked himself off of the bench, belching forth a furious curse before running away at speeds that would have broken his earlier gridiron records. Distant heads turned in shock or surprise at the explosion of sound, watched the dog race across the quad as if on fire, wondering what had sparked such a drive. Pris sat frozen to the bench, staring after him, unable to understand what had happened. Some part of her flew after him, begging him to stop, to come back, to try again, to try once more to see if maybe they could set it right. If they went through it enough times, surely it would come out all right...