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                They

say either ya love the city or ya hate it. As the joke goes, if ya hate it,

move out. Where's the joke in that? There's nothing else but the city. Yeah,

sure, there're the Outlands, and people do live in those forsaken crap holes,

raising Mords and crops and the like. But there is only the One City. It's the

center of everything. Without it, there could be nothing else. If it helps, think

of it as the heart and brain of the world all wrapped into one.

                Since

you've never been there, which I would find hard to believe, I'll tell ya a

tiny bit about it. It's big. I realize I have nothing worthy enough to compare

it too, which to me automatically makes it the largest community around.

Outland settlements may have a few hundred Expers, but the city has hundreds of

thousands. Nothing happens anywhere that doesn't first start here. A name?

Mine? Oh, the city's. Well, that's a cause for debate. It goes by The Hub,

though others call it Grecksperity. Me, I call it home. Any other name is

pointless. All arguing about it will do is get ya on the bad side of someone you'd

rather have as a friend.

                Me?

Well, I don't often give out my name. Ya see, a lot of people know it, but they

don't usually associate it with my face anymore. That's to my advantage as well

as theirs. If ya must know, I go by Veracity Harms. Yes, as a matter of fact,

that is my real given name. The last part, my family surname, is pretty old. My

first name is thanks to the algorithm. Don't ask. I'll explain it later. My

father, bless his soul, was a relative unknown on this world. He liked it that

way. I learned well from him. Anonymity has a lot of advantages to it,

especially when ya have a lot of wealth.

                Money?

Money ain't wealth, ya idiot. Information is wealth. Oh, I've got money, but I

don't flaunt it. No point in tempting people into doing foolish things. That

was why, when I set out on my present project, I chose to get a companion. I

needed someone who would compliment me; someone who could go where I couldn't

go and who could deal with the people who refused to deal with me. It was a bit

tricky, interviewing the applicants. I didn't inform them of what the job entailed

until I had one I liked. In the end, it turns out he was way over qualified.

                Now

we're never seen apart. The suave, stylish, short and furry one with his

impossibly tall, dark and muscle bound partner. The descriptive terms I just

used don't do us justice, but for your benefit, think of us as a gray fox and a

stallion. It's not a proper identification, but it will do for the moment. I

find there to be no advantage in boring ya with details right now. You'll get

the blanks filled in as the story goes.

                This is

the last little bit of preface. I can't leave you hanging in all regards. The

city had a police force, such as it was, but they were corrupt and often

useless. They were nearly as bad as the Brotherhood of the Truth and the

various criminal organizations that flourished here. An honest person rarely

survived unscathed, an evil person rarely lived long, and death was your only

sure friend.

                I took

it upon myself to right the wrongs, leastwise those I saw as the most outlandish

and evil. Sure it's rather one-sided and inconsistent, but it's better than

nothing. It's peculiarly pathetic on the face of it, but if I could help even

one person, then I could feel I did some little good for this world. It turns

out I got myself in for more than I bargained for. What? Who? Oh, my partner. Goes

by the name of Bolshoi Way. His first name was like everyone else's, a matter

of fate. The Creator had programmed the machine to work that way. No one argued

with it, even after a thousand years.

                My

partner and I had worked out a system, whenever we were working on a case, to

keep the information flowing. If it happened to slow to a trickle, or if

someone caught on to us, then the blood flowed. If we were lucky, it was the

whiskey that flowed instead. We weren't usually that lucky, even if we were

buying. Regardless, the questions got asked and one way or another, we got

answers. When we cornered our quarry, it was time enough to dole out the

punishment. If they were fortunate, we killed them outright. Their luck was

often on par with our own however. They weren't usually that lucky.

                This was

the first case I worked on with my new partner. The details of it were sickeningly

hideous. The cops were ignoring the crimes, even though the newspapers were

plastering it all over their front pages. There was a rapist/murderer hitting

the dark pockets of The Hub. He wasn't particular in his tastes; of the twenty

three victims attributed to him, few had anything in common. They were all

different species, and their ages ranged from fifty six years to eighteen

months. Of course, some species aged differently, and some cubs were bigger

than others, but the whole thing made me nauseous.

                Since

no one else seemed interested in apprehending him, I made it my prerogative to

take this creep out. If, and I say if, I happened to wipe a few others off the

streets at the same time, then so be it. There's something satisfying about

mayhem; uncontrolled mayhem is extremely gratifying. My partner and I each had

our own way of dealing with adversaries. You'll eventually figure it out.

                This

creep had been dubbed by the newspapers The Vivisectionist. He cruelly hacked

his victims to death after repeatedly raping them for hours or days on end. The

only reason the police would turn a blind eye towards a criminal like this was

because he worked for one of the syndicates. Someone was paying huge sums in an

attempt to cover it up. It was a surprise that the newspapers ever got wind of

the crimes at all. That was my first clue.

                Newspapermen

usually got their intel from a reliable source and lacking that, they would

publish any innuendo that came dancing in front of their eyes. If the police force

was trying to put the kibosh on the matter, the papers had to be getting their

story from a less officious source. I had mulled over that for a while before coming

to a conclusion. I needed to verify my deductions. That's where I needed a

partner.

                We

walked into the offices of The Spoke. It wasn't the largest rag in town, but it

had a reputation for exploitive reporting and tabloid style news. I was here to

see Charlo, aka "The Ear." He had his nose in everyone's business even if they

didn't know it. In fact, I was the only one who was aware of his network of

spies and informants. It always shook him up when I dropped in. I think this

was because he knew who I was, but never could dig up anything to use against

me. It was well known amongst the criminal and lawful alike that he had files

hidden away that could ruin most of them. It was also known that if he was

murdered, that information would go public.

 On me, he had nothing.   

                I sent

in Bolshoi first, just to get ole Charlo pissed off. I found him easier to deal

with when he was off his guard. My partner had picked up the tricks of the

trade with preternatural speed. Within a few minutes the editor was foaming at

the mouth and raging at my partner. When his rage turned to threats of bodily

harm, I glided into the room.

                Now

Charlo was no fool, but he wasn't a coward either. Cowards didn't survive here.

His skin went white (as much as his fur would show) and he dropped back into

his chair. "Uh, Hello Veracity. What the hell are you doing here?"

                "Hello

Charlo. I was accompanying this fine little fellow here, who so wanted to ask ya

a few questions. It seems to me you've been a bit harsh towards him. Don't tell

me I need to shake ya down again." I looked at him with narrowed eyes. I flared

my nostrils for effect.

                "Listen

you freak, I have the right to keep my sources anonymous. The rules say I do!

So get the hell out!"

                "Oh,

you're right about that! Just between you and me though, I don't think anyone

gives a shit. I know I don't. So save us both a lot of time and frustration and

answer my friend's questions."

                For an

answer, the editor pulled open his desk drawer and pulled out a formidable

sized pistol. He waved it around frantically before aiming it at me. His arm

quavered like a reed in a wind storm. "Goddammit you nosy asshole, I said get

out. Out! Out! Out!"

                I

examined the gun down the length of my face to my nose, where it was presently

aimed. It was a good make, a hand crafted piece with a large bore. Nice! It was

about the same size as the one I had just had to retire. I still carried my

other one, but it was a special needs only piece. "I've looked at a gun from

this side more times than you have from that end. Do me the favor and spare us

the mess of me plastering your carcass all over the wall." He was suddenly

looking down the barrel of my remaining gun. He recognized it immediately and

dropped his like it was molten metal. As I happened to have my hand clamped

over the barrel; I considered his release of it a sign I could keep it. There

weren't too many fifty caliber hand guns around. Few had the strength the fire

them and keep their arm attached to their shoulder. They were only good at

intimidating those who didn't know any better, unless you had the muscle to

wield them.

                "That's

a good boy Charlo. Now, my friend here asked ya a question or two. How about an

answer or three?"

                He

looked like he had just been told the meal he had eaten had been laced with poison.

"Good luck finding this guy. I assume you've already figured out he's being

protected. The cops are lame and degenerate, but not even they would avoid

investigating this unless there was a lot of dough involved. Before you ask,

no, I haven't any idea who this sicko is. He could belong to any of the mob

families, or even be a high priest in the Brotherhood. Fact is, he could even

be a cop, though I doubt it. The chief would have put a bullet in him

personally to save himself the public embarrassment."

                "Yeah,

I figured that much out already. What I need to know is who your source is. I

know for a fact that every other newspaper is copying everything ya print.

Since they aren't intelligent or lucky enough to have their own source, yours

must be the only one. I need a name."

                "If I

give you his name, he'll be dead before sunset and so will I. I may have a lot

of information on these jerks, but if I push them too far, they'll find no

reason to keep me alive. They'll have an all out war if they find out who my

informant is. This person is a model citizen."

                My cock

stiffen imperceptibly. "Thanks Charlo. I'll send over a replacement gun for ya,

something less showy and a bit more lethal for your hands. There's no point in

holding something ya can never fire." I turned to go.

                "Wait!

What are you thanking me for?"

                "The

information we needed."

                "But I

told you nothing!" he screamed.

                "Correct.

But it was in what ya didn't tell me that I ascertained what I needed to know.

I'll have the pleasure of making a social call on Charise Morou."

                The

editor fell back on his chair with a cry of despair. "But you can't, you just

can't! If her husband finds out, we'll all be dead! Why do you think I said he?

I was trying to throw you off."

                I

laughed a little too loudly. "God forbid that we should die! It's one of the

few luxuries we have, ya little tight-assed bastard. Besides, remember the old

words; do onto others before they do you. I think I have a shot at evening any

odds the bookies might place on my future successes."

                Charlo

slumped back in his chair. "I hate you. I don't mean that lightly Veracity, I

really, truly hate you. But...if you're going to pursue this, at least don't be

an idiot." He opened another drawer in his desk. He removed a wooden and brass

box. "Here's the rest of the ammo for that gun. And I had better see a

replacement in my office before sundown!"

                I

pocketed the box, finding that it fit, if only barely, into my jacket pocket. The

gun slipped into the empty holster like they had been crafted by the same

hands.. As we left, my partner fell into step beside me. Looking up he said,

"So, who exactly is this Charise. The name sounds vaguely familiar."

                "Charise?

She and I are old friends. Do ya recall the actress and model Charise Fellows?"

                The

little fox's eyes lit up. "Oh, that Charise. I was aware she had dropped out of

the limelight, but never the reason why. Married to the mob huh?"

                "Yeah,

you could say that. Wasn't much her decision. When someone gives ya a choice

between a permanent chunk of lead in your brain and a cushy but illicit

lifestyle, only an intelligent person takes the bullet. Carise has looks and a

bod that won't quite, but she hasn't got the wits to think ahead. Last I heard

she was pretty miserable. That has nothing to do with me, of course. She made

her choice and has to live with. However, if she's leaking information on

Blackmantle Morou, then she has just piqued my interest again.

                Bolshoi

let loose a long whistle. "I didn't realize that this job was going to get me into

so many situations. Are you sure I'm cut out for it?"

                I loved

the way his voice was high pitched compared to mine. It was one of the reason's

I chose him. No one looked at him and said; this

fellow is dangerous! He was perfect for getting information on a more

subtle level than I myself could do. Oh, I could be subtle, but it did little

good. When you're over four hundred pounds of equial bone and muscle, even the

Carns pay attention. The black hair over a black hide didn't help ease the

average person into accepting me as more than a crazed murderer. I didn't mind.

That kind of reputation kept most of the maniacs off my case. That in turn

saved me a fortune in ammunition.

                Then

there was the leather. Normally, only the Carns wore the stuff. The average

Exper refused to soil themselves with the reputation associated with it. Exper?

That explanation can wait. I'll just say that all of the intelligent beings

living here are descended from the original Expers. The Mords are what we were

or something like that. They're just dumb animals that look remotely like a lot

of us. The only reason they're still around is because the Carns need something

to eat. However, an Equial wearing the skin of another animal is considered

sacrilege.

                So

anyway, back to the leather. I had a full length outfit made. The coat falls to

my ankles, and has enough steel banding sewn inside to make it weigh eighty

pounds. It isn't bullet proof or knife proof, but few know that for certain. I

have pants of the same material. My shirt varies with my mood. It too is

usually black.

                Bolshoi

is always properly dapper, with ruffled collars, velvet and cotton. He wears

glasses to give him an air of distinction, but in reality his eyes are a tad

better than mine. He's light on his feet, quiet, good with a sword and better

with throwing knives. He's an inventor and usually has something hidden up his

sleeve at all times. As I found out later, he was damn good at keeping secrets.

Ya can't pull the wool over my eyes too often. This little sneak pulled a major

one. It taught me to never assume anything about anyone ever again.  But that has little bearing on the case at

hand.

                Finding

Charise wasn't going to be a problem. Getting to her without causing a minor

skirmish was. I needed to draw her out in the open, yet somewhere where she

wouldn't be seen. Like I said, she was one hot dame and even if ya didn't

recognize her for who she was, ya still couldn't help notice her nice tits and

ass. That meant there was only one place that was fit for me to see her.

                My

partner proved invaluable in so many ways. First, he took my letter straight to

her. I left it up to him to figure out a way of avoiding the thugs and

cutthroats that peppered the Morou Estate. 

If he managed to do that, he then still had to approach the lady herself

without getting a knife in the gut. She wasn't likely to take kindly to

intruders into her boudoir.

                In the

end, he performed swimmingly. He never told me how he managed it, nor did I

ask. The letter he brought back was genuine. I knew her delicately flourished

script anywhere. She agreed to meet me at Liatra's. We used to have dinner there,

back when she was a rising star. It was a nice enough place. The food was good.

And it had private dining rooms. That was more important than a meal in this

situation. It had been important back then too.

                I know

the owner, so getting in the back way was easy enough. Bloshoi dressed as a

waiter and posted himself by the front door to make sure she wasn't followed.

She wisely took a cab, though as it turned out in the end, two different ones.

She got in one, rode it to the tram station, walked in the front and out the

back to a different one. She had learned caution. That was good.

                My

partner escorted her to the back, locking the door behind him. No one was going

to get in, not easily anyway. I hoped to get the information I wanted quickly

and be on my way. Each extra minute with her pushed the situation farther into

the danger zone.

                She

didn't immediately see me. I know; how could she miss? I blend into the shadows

quite well, and I left one half of the room in the dark. While she was staring

into the shadows, I cleared my throat from the booth in the corner behind the

door. That's the other trick. Let them think you're in one place when you're in

another.

                She

jumped. "Dammit Veeeracity! You how I hate to be frightened!"

                I had

always loved the way she lingered on the "e" in my name. I was looking her over

from top to bottom. I had no intention of getting mixed up with her, not that

way. But it was fun reminiscing. "I know ya do. Doesn't explain how ya got

mixed up with a jerk like Morou. I would think every day would have ya looking

over your shoulder, just waiting for something bad to happen."

                She

smiled thinly. "Oh, I have my penances to deal with. You wouldn't believe some

of the punishments I've had to endure. But then again, I didn't see you

stepping up to save me from myself!"

                I

sniffed, blowing out my hot breath in her face. "Ya knew I would never marry. I

told ya that from the start. It never stopped ya from climbing into my bed

every night for a year."

                She

pulled off a glove and ran her fingers across my chest. "Yes, I suppose you

did. An Oryx can always hope, can't she?"

                Now,

before ya get too confused, I likely need to clarify. She wasn't like the

original animal by that name any more than I was a horse. She was bipedal, like

all Expers. She had some resemblance to her namesake; she was graceful,

beautiful and I was getting a hard-on just thinking about her naked. She pulled

off her hat to reveal her diminutive horns. They were neatly filed down and

covered in gold. I didn't approve. I liked her better as she was meant to be.

But then again, I had no say in the matter.

                She

sensed my dismay. "What? You don't like my jeweled horns? I remember when you

used to use them to keep me from falling to the floor when you pounded the..."

                "Yes, I

remember quite clearly Charise! All I want today is some information. Once I

have it, you're free to go."

                She sat

down, forcing me back into the booth. "Is that all I'm good for anymore? I

haven't heard a word from you in three years and you arrange this wonderfully

romantic meeting, and all for some information? You've changed Veeeracity, and

not for the better.  But I haven't." She

stared at me for a moment and then sighed. "You can have your information."

                "Just

like that?"

"Of course not, you big fool! I

want something in return.

"What?

"Nothing too difficult. I want you

to show me you still care for me. I want you to do it now, here, and I want it

until I cry for you to stop. Then you can ask me anything you want."

"Is that it? The last time I looked

you were married to the worst hoodlum in town. I don't think he'd be too

pleased to find out his wife was getting hit on by an old flame!"

"I'm not going to tell him; are

you?"

I have to admit I snorted out an

undignified laugh. "Tell him?! By the time I'd be done with you, that old Carn

will be able to stick two cocks his size into you.  To be honest, I had you pegged as ruined for

the average guy."

She grabbed my nostrils and

pinched. I never flinched. "Listen, you big jerk. I'll have you know I trained

myself to keep my muscle tone intact. Otherwise, I could have rented out my

poor cunt as storage space. If I did it before, I can do it again. So either

shut up or put out. If you want your information so badly, get those disgusting

leathers off and show me the joy I haven't had in years."

I was really reluctant to do this.

All I wanted was to get a name and get out quickly. In the back of my head, I

had known this was a possibility. She still secretly craved my companionship.

After all, it was I who had broke off the relationship, blaming it on her

career. As I once said, "All the men will fall for a girl they think they have

a chance with over one who is obviously smitten with someone they could never

be." It was true. However, I had said it more than once; I would never get

married. It hardly mattered if it was to some old hag or the most beautiful

person I had ever met.

As it was, my pants weren't going

to fit comfortably for much longer. Her hand ran down my chest to my crotch.

Her eyes lit up. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

I was faced with making a snap

decision. I could sit here and argue with her for an eternity, or I could

comply with her demands, get what I wanted and get out. Given her propensity

for sex and mine for endurance, either situation was going to take longer than

I wanted. However only one would get me my answer. I pushed her out of the

booth and stood. My coat dropped to the floor with a leaden thud.

                That

was followed by my gun belt, my shirt, boots and my pants. I know some guys drop

their pants around their ankles, but that's just stupid. I can run faster naked

than I can half dressed. Besides, I was in no danger. Charise on the other hand

was keeping her clothes on. I wasn't surprised. We had played this game before.

It was one of the reasons I loved a dame in a dress. You could do what ya

wanted and a minute later they could walk away like nothing happened. Well, not

all of them could do that. Some had to walk a little bow legged out the door

when I was done.

                Her

eyes lit up when I was done stripping. "Veeercity darling, I'm so looking

forward to this interrogation. I promise you, whatever you want to know, I'll

happily tell you." She pressed her fingers against the joints on either side of

her jaw. It was a trick she had perfected just for me. With a slight pop, it

came undone. She kissed my cock with those sweet lips just before opening wide

to take it in her mouth.  There aren't

many folks, male or female, regardless of the species, which can take what I

have to offer in such a manner. Hell, there aren't many that can take

it...period!

                She was

a one in a million. She took it slow, not because she had to, but because she

knew I loved the feeling. It wasn't often I got the treat of having someone

giving me their all just because they wanted to. Besides, I hadn't gotten laid

in weeks. I hoped she knew what she was in for.

                Her

pale fingers caressed my throbbing meat as she slowly engulfed as much as she

could. I once choked a Carn to death in a similar manner, but here she bravely

worked it in nearly a third of its length before she could take no more. I

could feel her slim tongue working the shaft from underneath while the tip of

my cock had to be staring at her stomach. I can tell ya, I didn't last long. I tried

to warn her, but she sank her nails into my tender flesh and held on for the

oncoming storm. I blew so hard she gagged and lost her grip. I came loose in a

spray of foamy white.

                It took

her a moment to get her breath back. "I say darling, you've been neglecting

yourself. I never allowed you to get yourself in such a state. And I think

you've ruined my dress!"

                Indeed,

she was covered in cum. But if she was truly bothered by it, she didn't show

it. She grabbed the edge of the table with one hand, flipping up her dress with

the other to reveal a pale bare ass bisected with a hot pink slit. "I didn't

bother with the panties. I tend to lose them when I take them off in strange

places." She turned her head back, grabbing the table solidly with the other

hand. She remembered how this routine went.

                "Are ya

sure ya want this? Ya know how I can get!"

                I

couldn't see her face, but her voice betrayed her smile. "Darling, I hoping you

haven't changed one ounce in that regard!"    

                I ran a

hand down across her buttocks. They were as firm and perfect as I remembered. I

slid one finger into her pink moistness, eliciting a shudder. She was excited,

of that there was no doubt. I only hoped that after all this time, she hadn't

lost her ability to handle what I was about to give her.

                Now,

before ya go thinking horse again, remember that I'm not a horse. However, I am

hung in a similar manner. Trust me, I've seen real horses during a trip to the

Outlands; I even dabbled in trying out a mare or two. But a true horse stallion

has got me by a few inches, both in length and width. Still, as far as Expers

go, I sit at the top of the hierarchy when it comes to cock size. Poor Charise

should have stuck to something more in her line. Luckily for me she's tougher

than she looks and hornier than a teenage Lago.

                I

grabbed her hips and lined up for the kill. That's not a joke exactly; I've

done in a few of my victims in this manner. The head of my cock pressed tightly

against her taut lips. I wanted her pretty badly by now, but at the same time,

had no desire to do her unnecessary damage. She apparently knew what I was

thinking. With a well timed backwards push, she forced her hot crack over the

tip of my meat.  I finished the job with

one gigantic thrust. She let loose of cry of mixed pain and delight.

                It was

loud enough to attract the attention of my partner. I heard a light rap on the

door and a faint, "Is everything OK in there?"

                "Yes,

just fine. Things haven't gotten out of hand yet."

                She

groaned a little. "No not yet. I'm hoping that will come later!" I hoped

Bolshoi didn't hear that.

                I

pushed in harder, forcing her hips forward, despite my grip. She collapsed

against the table, allowing my hands to be free for other things. Like

clockwork, I moved my grip from her hips to her horns. They used to be a bit

longer, but my oversized hands clamped on to what was there with the strength

of a vice. She grunted at the force of my actions, but followed it up with a

coo.

                Gawd

Veeeracity! I've so missed your grand entrances!"             

                That

much was true. She could never get enough of me, physically anyways. We didn't

always see eye to eye on other matters, but on this one we were dead on. I

pushed frantically deeper between her legs, gaining an inch or so with every push.

It was like prying apart the shells of an oyster. And just like an oyster,

getting into her insides was like finding a pearl. I was glad she had gotten me

off already. Had she not done so, I would have blown my wad way too soon.

                As it

was, I was getting little crazy. I do that sometimes, when it doesn't much matter.

You'll see what I mean later. With Charise, I was glad she had experienced me

in rage mode more than once in the past. Not only had she survived them fairly unscathed,

she seemed to enjoy them. Most who suffered through them didn't. She appeared

to relish the abuse. At the moment her head was pulled backwards at an

uncomfortable angle as I banged the hell out of her. I could feel the tip of my

meat grinding roughly against her womb. Given enough time I just might force my

way past her cervix and gain myself a few more inches of working room.

                I could

hear the vertebrae in her neck creak and grind as I pounded away. Most gals I

know would have called this rape, but not my lithe little Oryx. It was what she

used to live for. It was nice for me to be able to cut loose on a willing

victim again. Usually this performance was reserved for; well, I'll tell ya

later. Anyway, I was giving her the first real fuck she'd had in years. That

pussy mobster husband of hers might think he was a big deal, but I had more on

him in any category he could come up with. He certainly couldn't outperform me

in this one.

                It was

a good thing she could produce copious amounts of lubrication. At the rate I

was pumping her, the lack of it would have caused her to burn up from the

friction. As it was, we were both beginning to overheat. Sweat was beading up

on my neck and tricking down my back. Even my lover was starting to perspire.

It was one of the reasons I used her horns. It was the one spot that didn't get

slippery.

                She was

pushing back against me, probably more to ease the crease in her belly (from

the table) than anything else. I wasn't completely unfeeling towards her

position. I stopped for just a moment, let loose of her horns and wrapped my

hands around her slim waist. My fingers sank into the material of her dress. I

hauled her into the air, leaving her feet to dangle above the floor. I turned

her into a washboard; my cock being the laundry. We had done this before.

                Before

I could get going, she shakily blurted out, "Turn me!" I did as she commanded.

I lifted her up and turned her in an about face. She lifted her legs until they

ran up my chest and then dug her nails into my shoulders. Needless to say she

was still quite flexible. It was a fun position, but a dangerous one for her.

Once or twice in the past I had slipped out and re-entered the wrong hole. That

was fine for me but not so good for her. I was cautious to make sure I hit the

right spot this time

                I slid

back in and returned to banging the shit out of her. I'm sure it had to feel

like I was trying to drive a fence post with her body, the fence post being my

cock of course. I could feel her clamping down around me. It was a tossup who

would let loose first. I figured if she wanted this so badly, I'd hold off

until she cried for me to stop. I put more force into my slams, driving her

down ever harder. Her head began to rock back and forth violently in time to my

aggressive, churning motions. A couple of times it slammed into my face. This

was getting out of hand, which is my way of saying I was getting off on it.

                She

clamped up tight around me, going into a gut wrenching orgasm. As it built, she

started to scream. I only hoped it wasn't so loud as to distract the diners.

Five minutes later she was still going. She managed to spit out "Stop!" I

managed to ignore her plea. She started this little liaison; it was up to me to

finish it properly. I picked up speed, slamming even harder than before. A

trickle of blood escaped her nose and splattered across my chest. I had a

feeling there was a bit of the same showing between her legs. It was just as

well that my own climax was building again.

                When I

cut loose, it was a hot load pressed right up against her cervix. The pressure

of it had to force it past that tight little aperture and straight into her

uterus. I held her down in a painfully tight embrace while I blew and blew and

blew. She let out a weak cry and slumped back, her head dangling back past her

shoulders. I felt pretty good right about then. I only hoped that she would

regain consciousness soon enough for me to get my information. The noise we had

made was likely causing a stir out in the main part of the restaurant.

                As if

on cue, there was a knock at the door. I slid my lover onto the table and

cracked it open. A little foxy face peered up at me. "I say big fellow; was all

that noise necessary just to get a little information?"

                "Uh, in

this case it was. Hold the fort down for a little longer, if ya don't mind."

                "Sure,

I can do that. But why?"

                "Uh,

because I haven't actually got my information yet. I've been pumping my source

this whole time."

                Bolshoi

actually tittered. "I believe that. Ya shook the entire building. Is your

friend still alive after all of that noise?"

                "Yes,

she's fine, thanks for asking. Now, if ya don't mind, I'd like to finish this

up."

                The fox

lifted his glasses and peered at my midsection. "From the pearl white fluid

dripping from that monstrosity you dare to call a cock, I'd say you are

finished. Now get your information and let's get the hell out of here. I think

we're overstaying our welcome."

                He was

probably right. The restaurant had once been a seedy eatery, but over the years

it had gained a classier clientele. The sooner I got my information, the faster

I could slip back out the back and make everyone happy. I closed the door and

returned to Charise. She was out. I picked up a pitcher of water and dumped it

on her. She flew off the table with a screech.

                "You

stupid motherfucker!" Then she collapsed on the floor. "My damn legs won't

work, you bastard. My cunt is on fire! And my nose is bleeding!" She glared at

him for just a moment. Then she grinned from ear to ear. "God how I've missed

this. What are you doing tomorrow?"

                "That

depends on you. Remember? I need information."

She sighed. "Yes, of course. It always

business with you. Fine, what do you want to know? The combination to my

husband's safe?"

                "No. I

want to know who The Vivisectionist is."

                Her

eyes bulged ever so slightly. "Him? Leave him for the cops. I have no love for

him, but if I tell you his name, it will fall hard on anyone connected with his

death. That would seemingly be you and I happened to prefer you intact."

                "The

cops aren't doing anything about it, and ya know it. I fulfilled my apart of

the bargain, now you do yours."

                She

sighed again. "Archimedes."

                I

started. "You're kidding me, right?"

                "No. I

wish I was. My husband let it slip a few weeks ago. I acted like I didn't hear

him. Everything points to him being the culprit."

                This

gave me pause for thought. Archimedes was Blackmantle's first cousin. He was

also the family hit man. He was good; good enough to keep yourself clear of his

sights. I would have thought that contract killing would have been enough to

get him off. Apparently making a neat, clean death wasn't tickling his jollies.

He had turned to darker, more sinister things. I didn't care about the contract

killing. Usually, it was a matter of one family taking out members of another.

It was like they were doing the world a favor. But this; this couldn't be tolerated

                "Thanks

my little pale beauty. I hope my payment for that information was sufficient."

                She

smiled thinly. "Your payment was just wonderful, my big black hunk of

masculinity. I only hope my information doesn't lead to your unfortunate and

premature demise. I'd happen to like another round or two before that

eventuality."

                I

extended a hand to pull her to her feet. She grasped it with a delicate touch.

She looked at me with an obvious disapproving glance. I had little to say in

regards to my future mission.  "Thanks

dear, but I intend to take this bastard out. Never fear. I intend to be the one

who walks away from this. All I need to do is get him somewhere where I can do

him in without alerting him or the Morou family. On the other hand, if I make

it look like one of the other families did it, I'll escape free and clear."

                She

looked up at me with big brown eyes. "I suppose you'll do what you'll do. Don't

worry about me. I doubt they'll know it was me who blabbed, but if you have any

feelings for me, try to keep the rest of the family out of it. I know they aren't

great, but not all of them are bad. I'd hate to be the cause of relative

innocents getting picked off because of something I did."

                "Alright

Charise. I think I can do that for ya. Take care. You're still as good a fuck

as ya were when we first met. I think you'd better start those exercises, or

whatever ya call it, the moment ya get home. You're going to need tightening up

before your husband lies with you again."

                She

giggled. "He hasn't bedded me in months. Do you know how hard it is for a Carn

to lay with a non meat eater without taking a bite out of their flesh? He has a

little tan puma girl he stick's his dick into these days. It doesn't bother me

much. It's just that it gets lonely at times. Thanks for curing that disease,

even if it was just for a little while."

"The pleasure was mine. Now, let's

get dressed and part ways before we're discovered." She had little to do except

straighten her dress. I smiled as she stuffed a cloth napkin between her legs.

"Oh quit grinning like that you bastard. You know that your cum will be flowing

out all the way home."

I did. It took me a few moments to

pull on my leathers. I gave her a kiss. She returned it passionately. "Good bye

Charise. If it's any consolation, I miss you too."

She smiled, turned and slid out the

door. Bolshoi stepped in and shut it again. "You've got your name?"

I just nodded grimly.