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See how we measure feelings from a distance... See how we measure people into zero... -- October Project, "Be My Hero"

The footman opened the rear passenger door of the stretch limousine, and I made a particularly graceful exit courtesy of the many hours of practice I'd put in, along with the specially-designed features that accommodated someone of my particular stature and build. He stood, courteously attentive, his young squirrel's face calmly pleasant yet in no way staring, as if he had been used to welcoming beings like myself for years. For all I know, he had done just that, starting as a mere bellhop during his high school days. The staff of Le Grande Hôtel d'le Rose Royale consisted only of the finest personnel, hand-picked by M. Paul-Henri Montplaisir himself. I carried myself with the bearing of professionalism, perhaps even of royalty, and my clothing bore out every bit of it, from the fully-tailored suit of Super 200s merino wool to the specially-made Mongolian cashmere cloak that draped over me from shoulders to thickly-furred and freshly-styled tail in a perfect drape. I took with me my ebony stick with the oversized silver wolf's head handle, shook out my clothing a bit, and bade the footman a fine evening as I strode toward the lobby. I confess that I'd often thought of affecting a monocle, but my vision is perfect, and as much as I adore a classy affectation, there are limits to how much one can increase one's personal magnificence, even for a foxtaur.

I strode up to the concierge, not even pretending that I had a room there. Despite my outward appearance being one of wealth, the entire staff of the hotel would know if a 'taur had reserved or registered. We're rare enough to be noticed and remembered, not to mention talked about. (Perhaps we were what Oscar Wilde really wanted to be - talked about.) The well-dressed, utterly refined older jaguar radiated confidence, health, and the ability to take down anyone foolish enough to think that they could damage the reputation or interior of this grandest of the grand hotels. "Good evening, my good fur," he rumbled softly, his diction a perfect BRP, "and welcome to Le Grande Hôtel d'le Rose Royale. How may we serve you this evening?"

Only the lowest bounder would take the obvious sexual joke. "I am Sebastian Tobias Valentin, here to visit Mr. Lowell Alarcon. I'm told that he is in the Boussole D'or Suite."

"Parfaitement, M. Valentin. Permit me to announce you."

His French was as fine as his English; I had expected no less. As he called up to the suite, I waited calmly, declining to put on an air of mildly impatient detachment as so many pretenders do. Manners included kindness to such willing and solicitous staff. It often paid off handsomely. I smiled softly as I looked about the lobby, reacquainting myself with its elegance, its appointments, its discreet security cameras, its blind spots, and its exits. Since I could not be invisible, I opted instead to be as perfectly amenable, open, and apparently trustworthy as possible. Not like I was a spy or an assassin or something so crude. My profession was far older. In fact, a few of my professions fit that description.

The jaguar returned the comm device to its base, looked up and smiled quite professionally. "Mr. Alarcon presents his greetings and begs you to join him directly." He gestured most articulately, and a young otter bellhop appeared instantly to his side. "Jonathan, would you be so kind as to escort M. Valentin to the Suite Boussole D'or?"

"Honored, sir!" My escort gestured in a manner practiced not yet to perfection. "Would_monsieur_ be so kind as to come with me?"

Another obvious sexual joke was mentally acknowledged and forbidden. "With pleasure, Jonathon. Please lead the way." I turned back to the concierge."Merci beaucoup, monsieur."

The jaguar bowed slightly, a soft smile on his muzzle. I'd make a hefty wager that he had just committed my name, face, coloration, and other features to memory. Young Jonathan set a comfortable pace, perhaps unsure just how quickly I could walk. It would be churlish of me to tell him that I can hold a comfortable trot of 10K/hr for an extended period. Perhaps my walking stick made him think otherwise, or perhaps simply that I have four paws to the ground instead of two. I counted his action a courtesy and followed him to the main lobby of elevators. After just a brief hesitation, he asked, "Perhaps_monsieur_ would care to use the Panoramic Lift? The Suite Boussole D'or is near the top of the hotel, and it's a fine clear night."

"A suggestion of genius, Jonathan. Please lead the way."

We waited briefly at the wide doors, near a structure that was discreetly ornate, a modest brass plaque announcing that this was indeed the Panoramic Lift. Jonathan did his best not to twitch, to keep his eyes carefully placed on the indicator lights that told us the lift was on its way down to us. His thick tail was almost entirely still, only its very tip betraying his inner thoughts. He was new, to the hotel, or to my kind, or both. I didn't hold it against him. We all have to start somewhere.

The lift finally arrived; it's doors opened slowly, and no one stepped out. Jonathan waved me into what was, for an elevator, a vast interior. Tall and wide, it would accommodate as many as a score of average-sized furs, the thick curving windows on three sides that, at the moment, showed only a wall beautifully painted in a panoramic idyll of the city from perhaps the 1930s, all to contrast with what the riders would see when they rose past the scrim. The young bellhop followed me in, perhaps mildly surprised at how fluidly I was able to position myself at the back of the car, and reached for the pawful of buttons at the side. He pushed one near the top, the doors closed slowly, and we ascended.

Speed was not of the essence with this car; the view was expected to be taken in and luxuriated over. We rose at a modest pace, the first view of the city appearing moments after the lift began. Serving only the top four floors, which included the finest of the four dining rooms of the hotel, the Panoramic Lift served both a utilitarian and an aesthetic purpose. I gazed out over the brightly-lit city, skyscrapers keeping an appropriate distance, the sprawl of the rest of the city showing a reasonably well-planned expansion that had a certain artistic flair to it. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Jonathan being quietly enthralled, but not just with the view beyond the windows. I kept my voice soft and non-threatening. "I imagine this view never gets tiresome."

"Not a bit,monsieur," he replied courteously.

"I hope you'll forgive me asking, Jonathan; have you met a 'taur before?"

A look in his eye of mild terror accompanied a slight shake of his voice. "No,monsieur, I have not."

I looked at him with the most beneficent smile I could manage. "You have done nothing that needs reporting, young otter. You've shown great discretion. I'll tell you a little secret: They may not admit it readily, but most 'taurs actually enjoy being looked at. Go ahead; I truly don't mind."

After a moment's hesitation, the lad gave in and took in the sight of me. I wasn't lying to him; we are a vain bunch, as my general attire should have told him to begin with. Unlike others who only pretend to be socially superior, I knew that being gazed upon is part of_noblesse oblige._ Photos are as ubiquitous as those of us who allow them at all will permit, reprinted, rebroadcast, retweeted, but actually seeing one of us up close and personal... that's as rare as it gets, for most furs. We tend to be a somewhat secretive and private lot. I won't say "shy"; that's asking too much. We don't tend to mingle, often from a simple desire to be left alone. The masses are still leery of us, I perhaps even more than others. Even so-called "ordinary" foxes have their mysteries.

Jonathan's eyes traversed my body, grasping my essence as best he could without actually gawking. I knew very well that there was a camera in the elevator, ostensibly for security purposes, but also to see if anyone would get frisky in the slowest lift in the building. I could tell that the young bellhop had forgotten this detail. I reached out a forepaw to him, and he returned the gesture, slowly shaking my paw with something like reverence.

"I wish to ask a service of you, young Jonathan. Immediately upon your return to the lobby, please see the concierge and ask him to ring me in the Suite Boussole D'or. I wish to thank him personally for sending such a cordial and professionally-behaved escort with me." I flicked an eye upward to where I knew the camera would be, and I could feel the otter jump as I still held his forepaw. I squeezed it gently, smiled and nodded to him. "I see a bright future for you in hospitality."

"Thank you,monsieur," he said softly. His eyes told me so much more that, had I worn my heart so openly as my manners, he might have taken it then and there.

The lift eased to a stop at the proper floor. The otter hopped out quickly, holding the doors for me. I was about to suggest that he take the ride back down, but I recalled the concierge's instructions - to see me to the suite itself - and let the lad do his job. Down a thickly carpeted corridor, the young bellhop took me directly to the double doors and pressed the annunciator briefly. After only moments, the door opened to reveal an older golden lion tamarin, his short but poised form adorned in formal butler's clothing, a welcoming smile accompanying a twinkle in his alert dark eyes.

For just a moment, I thought that I might have to remind the young otter of my name, but righted himself almost instantly. "M. Valentin, as requested."

"Thank you, Jonathan," the old butler intoned gently. "Won't you come in, M. Valentin?"

In a deft move, I palmed one of my calling cards - name, contact information, etc. - and managed to secrete it in what would otherwise be the place on his tunic for a pocket watch. "Do remember my request, Jonathan."

"J'obéis instantanément, M. Valentin!" He smiled a little as he bowed most professionally and took his leave.

I'll bet you would, too, I allowed myself to think.

Entering the palatial suite, I paused to allow the butler to close the door after I'd gotten all of me inside. He strode confidently to stand before me, offering me a bow of his own. "Welcome,_monsieur._I am Rico, at your service."

"Rico, I asked young Jonathan to have the concierge call me here, so that I might thank him for his service."

The tamarin's black eyes almost sparkled. "Please allow me to thank you,monsieur; Jonathan is a fine lad who will fit in well, with some experience."

"We understand each other."

"A butler's lifetime undertaking,_monsieur._May I take your cloak and stick?"

I handed the walking stick to the butler and carefully feigned a certain reluctance. "I'm terribly particular about my cloak; I hope that you'll forgive me if I tend to it myself."

"Comme vous s'il vous plaît." His gratitude showed itself just a bit as I made a brief fuss over folding my cloak - fully three times his size - until it would no longer overwhelm the generous servant. "A hanger of cedar will be acceptable?"

"Most certainly," I assured him. I found a mirror in an alcove there in the front hall, and as he put away the cloak, I gave myself a little-needed once-over. Over time, one develops the ability to keep one's poise in just about any circumstance. It's narcissistic as hell, I freely confess, but I doubt that anyone can really resist that little pleasure that's formed by the sincere application of the phrase, "Damn, I look good!"

A soft clearing of the throat brought be back to the situation. I turned to see Rico smiling with something that, had I the presence of mind to note it, might have been barely-concealed glee."Si monsieur me permettra... perfection!" He bowed slightly and waved an arm. "Follow me, s'il vous plaît?"

I had enough good grace to blush a little, and not artificially. I'm reasonably susceptible to the sincere compliment or two. Self-esteem is grand, but external confirmation is always welcome. I dipped my head in acknowledgement and let him lead me further into the suite.

The spacious living room area had an assortment of furniture, including a very comfortable-looking_chaise longue,_ and just beyond, a formal table set for the dinner to which I had presumably been invited. I had thought it might have been a ruse, as so many private invitations were, not that it mattered to me all that much. I was paid for my expertise, not necessarily my table manners... although those are equally exquisite.

"M. Valentin, permettez-moi de presenter M. Alarcon."

My host had already risen from his leather wing-back chair and stood before me, extending a forepaw to shake. The badger was perhaps a half-dozen centimeters taller than my vertical self, his coloration a rather perfect example of the jet black mask and three snow white stripes in precise marking up the comparatively short snout and over each cheek to his pertly-tipped ears, themselves black and ridged with white. His medium-length tail was still, well-groomed perfectly composed. His clothing might not have been quite as extravagant as my own, but it was no off-the-rack knock-off from Brooks Brothers; formal dining attire just shy of a tuxedo, and quite nicely tailored, the satiny black fabric refined and echoing his own primary fur color. He took my forepaw firmly, looking me in the eye somewhat deliberately it seemed to me. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown, almost dark enough for one to think him black-eyed.

"Delighted finally to meet you, M. Valentin." The badger's voice was deep and smooth. I suspected lessons in choral or solo music, and from an early age. "May I interest you in an aperitif?"

"I must decline alcohol,monsieur, but mineral water would be most welcome."

"Have you a specific brand that you prefer?"

"I'm a 'taur of simple tastes, easily satisfied by the best of everything."

The variation on the Oscar Wilde quote worked well, my host chuckling, the butler also nodding appreciatively as he went to get our drinks. "Monsieur, may I invite you to be seated?"

I inclined my head in gratitude and moved to the_chaise longue,_ as it seemed to have been made specifically for a 'taur of my general size. I maneuvered my hind and front paws onto the length of the furniture, allowing me to sit properly, with my vertical half able to relax my forepaws against the cushioned armrest. The leather of the settee was almost too slick for me to sit upon, considering how smooth was the wool of my suit, and I certainly didn't want to dig in my claws. I also didn't want to sit casually, on my side and thus exposing my underbelly. Even though covered by my specially tailored suit, I was ... shall we say, "alluring" in that pose.

Rico returned with our drinks and a portable phone unit for me. "Your call,monsieur."

The butler was kind enough to turn to his master to explain the call as I helped ensure that young Jonathan's job was secure. I received enough of a clue from the concierge's voice that he understood the purpose of my call, and he thanked me most kindly for the compliments to his neophyte bellhop. The call was completed in short order, and Rico took the portable device back to its lair, announcing as he departed that dinner would be served shortly.

My host toasted my health, which I returned, and I sipped my San Pellegrino delicately. The bubbles still toyed with my nose, no matter how much I thought I'd get used to it.

"If you will forgive my directness, M. Valenin," the young badger began. "Perhaps I should better explain why I have invited you here tonight. I am part of a team of business negotiators who is to be working directly with a certain..." He chuckled to himself. "There's no reason for me to be cagy; there are not that many 'taurs who are both royal and captains of international business."

I held up a forepaw. "We'll be discreet, not mentioning the Prince's name. I'm assuming that this is a panthertaur of whom you speak?"

"Correct. I'm to be one of the primary functionaries in the negotiations, and... again, please forgive my bluntness, but I've never met a 'taur of any kind before." He shifted a little uncomfortably, but held himself well otherwise. "I have invited you to be my introductory emissary to the world of the most unique form of life on the planet."

Despite my efforts, my tone iced a bit. "I'm to be a sort of test dummy, is that the idea?"

"M. Valentin, please..."

Again, I waved a forepaw to stop him. "We have negotiated a price for my time,monsieur, and I will abide by it. What do you need to know?"

"You have already taught me much." He sipped at his aperitif, something red that I suspected might be anything from a Manhattan to a sloe gin fizz. "I had to make an educated guess regarding what sort of furniture you would find most suitable for your comfort. The_chaise longue_was one such stab in the dark. We may have to make some adjustments to the accommodations for the dinner table." He paused, having the decency to blush slightly. "I need to learn, M. Valentin, and to stop myself from gawking like an uneducated cubling at the presence of a 'taur. I need vocabulary, experience, and as much expertise as I can gather from so slight an acquaintance, so that I don't embarrass my employer with personal incompetence."

Admittedly, I'd been somewhat nettled to start with, but the badger's candor, his vocabulary, and indeed his blush, all contributed to a sense of my being not his exotic playtoy but his tutor in societal_terra incognita_. He wanted to learn, and how many furs had I met in my life who truly wanted to learn? Even in our so-called enlightened times, the_hoi polloi_ thought that 'taurs were the result of sentient anthro females being impregnated (the more oft-used impolite term beginning with an "f") by a feral of their root species, bringing forth a bastard mutation from the bestial mating. Here, at least, the young fur was seeking to understand - no doubt, to help himself keep his job, but still...

"Very well, M. Alarcon. Let's see what I can do to orient you." I sipped my mineral water, set it aside, and began. "Let's start simply, with anatomy. Anthros have forepaws and hindpaws; our middle set is usually referred to as 'front paws,' since the term forepaws has been rather popularly co-opted; similarly, we refer to hind and front legs, our forepaws attached to arms, just as yours. You correctly guessed that some form of settee is best suited for our form, as the lower portion of our bodies relaxes best when stretched out, as perhaps you may have seen feral dogs or cats do. Seated this way, with my lower belly down and my hind and front paws arranged as they are - this is referred to as sitting 'properly.' Were I to lay more on one side, such that you could see all four hind and front paws, and my lower belly displayed toward you, that would be sitting 'casually.' Such a position can be considered evocative, particularly depending upon how the 'taur is dressed. May I invite you to join in standing with me,monsieur?"

He rose, and I slid easily and properly off the chaise longue to join him. "Stand here in front of me." He did so, and I took in his form more completely than before. He was a handsome fellow, truth told, with a firm build and strong bearing. I'd not be at all surprised to learn that he'd lettered in sports, almost certainly at a private school, and that he kept his trim through regular workouts - squash or lacrosse, most likely. This strong physical presence could be misinterpreted. The reputation of badgers is both true and misleading. They can be prone to violence, particularly if threatened; fuses can be short and are connected to powerfully aggressive powder kegs. Correctly channeled, however, this inner fury can become tenacity that is nearly impossible to overcome. In business, if a badger has his sights sets on your company assets, you'd be wise to find a compromise that you can live with before he takes not just your assets but your ass.

I extended a forepaw for him to shake, which he did. "This is referred to as a vertical position. My vertical height refers to my height from the floor where my front paws touch to the top of my head. Some shorter 'taurs prefer to measure to the tips of the ears." I allowed myself a smile, which he mirrored with genuine amusement. I released his paw. "As you can see, my front legs are perhaps a score of centimeters longer than my hind legs, unless they are digitigrade. This provides height which allows me to look you in the eye. Except for equines - centaurs - you'll find this slight disparity between fore and aft to be the norm. Let me ask you to step back for a moment. There is something more you should see."

After he stepped back a few paces, I pushed off with my front paws and raised to a full height that included my lower body, with hind paws flat to the floor and front paws nearly to his head height. "Just like feral horses, this is called rearing." I let myself down quickly, seeing that there was surprise and even fear in his eyes. I held him with my own, kept my voice level. "Generally, 'taurs don't show that sort of behavior unless severely threatened. As you can see, I was half again as tall as you in that position, and if I were to have jumped forward, my full weight would have been on you in less time than it takes to tell. I want you to watch again,_monsieur,_and pay attention to the tension in my front quarters as I move."

I reared again, his reaction much calmer this time, so I stayed that way for the moment. "You saw it?"

He nodded. "The muscles in your front legs and paws, contracting and bunching as if ready to crouch or spring forward."

"Catching that motion may give you one or two seconds in which to move backward, but I'd advise you not to turn away. Rearing is extraordinarily bad manners, usually occurring because of a perceived threat. It's the first part of a fight-or-flight response. But also, as you can see, we might hold the position just as we are, for as long as our lower bodies have been trained to carry us." I smiled a little, returned to my normal position. "As you might guess, I'm rather strong."

"So I can see." He swallowed, although something informed me that it wasn't necessarily from fear. He glanced at his drink. "If you will pardon me...?"

"Please do. It's not a common sight, even if you are a frequent visitor to feral horses." As he took a genuinely modest sip of his restorative, I continued the lesson. "Given that you are in business rather than diplomatic negotiations, you're unlikely to see such a display of ill manners. However, you've given me the impression that you wish to be prepared for whatever your meetings might entail, so I thought it best to show you. Are you all right?"

"Indeed, M. Valentin. Best prepared." His voice trailed off at that point, and I again sensed something behind his words. One of my professions is that of solicitor, and it pays to be able to hear the nuances of speech that often tell truth far beyond the presumed verity of the words involved. I've had fellow members of the bar tell me that my talents would be better served were I a barrister, but I've never had the sort of smoothness that becomes a Rumpole or a Mason or even a Gerry Spence. I might even be accused of jury tampering simply by being so particularly distracting.

Rico appeared as if magically to enquire if we wished to have our dinner. A glance from my host, a quiet demur from me, and we adjourned to the table. "I have left an open space,monsieur, as I was uncertain how to make you comfortable at the table. May I ask what protocol is best? We can arrange whatever you may wish."

I smiled a little. "M. Alarcon, you have performed a kindness that you may not have realized. Dining room chairs are made for those with two legs to the floor instead of four; by leaving the space open, you have acknowledged both the 'taur's position at the table and left him options. Allow me to demonstrate."

Approaching the table, I settled my hindquarters into a sitting position, my front paws to the floor, front legs still straight. "In this position, I appear to be standing at the table." I settled my front legs into the relaxed position of sitting properly. The table was now closer to my chin than most people would think proper. I smiled. "The advantage of this position is that I can simply open my muzzle and slide the food in directly!"

Both butler and host laughed appreciatively. I looked to Rico, asking, "Something like a low footstool usually does well, perhaps as little as a quarter meter or so...?"

"Sans doute, monsieur!" From a small alcove nearby, he produced what looked for all the world like the padded knee-rest from a prie-dieu, except that it was significantly deeper and slightly wider, not to mention adjustable. Someone at the hotel, I realized, had resources and experience to offer. I rose and stepped away from the table so that the tamarin could install it just this side of the hanging tablecloth. When I approached this time, my front paws rested most comfortably on the velvety padding and gave me proper height so that my forepaws could reach and extend at the level of any other guests.

"Perfect," I pronounced, well satisfied with the service and the result. My host smiled and joined me at the table, and the semi-formal repast began with the finest tomato basil bisque it has ever been my pleasure to eat. The conversation became less stilted through the meal as we spoke of many topics, including several that touched on other areas of my expertise. My host was surprised to discover that my professional resume included many things of which he was unaware, including my twin PhDs in literature and education, not to mention my JD and having passed the bar.

"Surely,monsieur, you are far too young to have accomplished all these things."

"You are both a diplomat and a flatterer, M. Alarcon."

My host smiled. "Surely a natural combination?" he asked quite engagingly. "And as we are well into our main course, perhaps it's time that I invite you to use my first name. Please call me Lowell."

"If I may be Sebastian to you, Lowell...?"

He raised his glass in salute, and I returned the compliment. I was now more certain than ever of the purpose of my visit here, and my only concern was exactly how far this young badger was willing to go to satisfy the terms of his contract, both with me and with his employer. A story had it that a new young diplomat was attending his first state dinner at the President's request, and he was seated next to the Presidential Spouse (female, for that particular term in office). Salads were served, and both the diplomat-to-be and the Spouse were well aware that a worm had somehow made it into his dish. Without breaking the conversation, the young male ate his salad, worm and all, making no complaint to anyone. The Spouse took note of his name and said, "You will go far in the Corps Diplomatique." The prediction came true; he was Ambassador to the Court of St. James at a comparatively young age.

I knew him quite well. I'm perhaps the only person who can still make him blush in public. Particularly if his spouse is present; she knows all about it. Wanted pictures.

The meal progressed to a perfect ending, with a crème Brule for dessert that was both appropriately small and intensely rich. Rico once again brought the portable phone unit to me when I insisted upon calling upstairs to compliment the chef. "A brilliant repast," I told him. "In one epicurean stroke, you have appeased both glutton and gourmet." He replied with a lovely flurry of Gallic gratitude, and I once again surrendered the portable device to the butler. My host had followed every word, every inflection, and was making mental notes. Part of the reason for my insistence was to provide yet more of my service to him as tutor; he clearly wished to learn all that would make him a good servant to his corporate masters, and I had more tricks up my sleeve than a riverboat gambler.

"You are generous with your praise, Sebastian. It's not a quality usually found in, for lack of a better phrase, the upper class."

I turned to Rico, who was tending to the dessert plates. "Rico," I asked the tamarin, "may I ask you if you are in any way troubled by my praise?"

"Pas le moindre, monsieur. I am most appreciative."

"Surely I'm not the only guest to thank you for your service?"

"Ah... no,monsieur. Others have had good things to say, I'm honored to report."

"I give you permission to be completely candid with me, Rico. Did you believe them?"

The tamarin hesitated briefly, casting a glance to my host, who nodded his permission as well. "As_monsieur_ has given leave for me to say... there are some who do not have the_qualité sincère,_ as you do. It is for them a formality,une obligation sociale,_and it is but going through the polite motions. You, _mon renard magique, are quite singularly different."

I raised an eyebrow slightly, and the butler flinched. I shook my head the slightest bit, and he caught my meaning. "I thank you for your candor, Rico. And if I may be so gauche as to say it aloud, yes, the difference is that I am quite sincere. I appreciate being so well tended." I looked to my host. "If you can care about those who work diligently for you, you'll find it easy to do."

Looking to my host, the tamarind asked,"Si vous me le permettez, M. Alarcon... I have found your words always to be sincere. I have enjoyed being in your service."

"Thank you, Rico."

I was surprised to see that Lowell actually blushed a little at the comment. In his place, many others would have taken the butler's words as having counted coup over my presumption of his needing to learn this art of sincerity. Instead, he took the hit without rancor or retaliation. I adjusted my estimation of him upward a few notches.

"If_messieurs_ are ready to retire to the living room...?" The butler continued to be as perfect as any fit to serve a royal house. My host and I mutually demurred and moved to our original positions there. We both declined the traditional brandy and cigars, although my comparatively bold suggestion of an after-dinner cup of tea was well-received. Rico positively beamed as he suggested a blueberry rooibos variety that was a particular favorite of his own family, which he would be honored to share with us. I suggested that he prepare it his own particular way, if he'd be so kind as to grace us with that special treat. He went to prepare it instantly.

Left to ourselves, Lowell and I let a quiet moment pass before he spoke again. "You've been most helpful to me, Sebastian, and I am very grateful. It is of course proper to keep our relationship formal; however, I find it difficult to imagine that you don't find friendships being forged even under professional conditions."

"Business and pleasure are often mixed," I observed, "but business and relationships are less likely to yield positive results."

My host looked down, perhaps a bit abashed. "It's terrible to admit that, though cynical, it's probably true."

"I've found it to be true in all of my business dealings, whether as solicitor, educator, pundit, polymath, or... otherwise."

For a long moment, the badger didn't speak. His dark eyes were half-lidded, contemplating, considering... regretting? I took the weight from him.

"Lowell, I would be honored if you would be candid with me."

"I've been nothing but candid all evening," he said softly.

"About everything we've spoken of, yes you have. There is something else on your mind. Perhaps I'm not a friend, but I'm certainly your companion for the evening."

"Indeed." His soft-spoken affirmation was only slightly disturbing. He waited long enough that it gave Rico time to reappear with a classic tea trolley, bedecked with full service and a small sampling of spiced graham biscuits - hardly necessary after the crème Brule, but welcome as something to add yet another flavor to the remarkably aromatic rooibos. After being served, the tamarin asked if we required anything else. "I believe that we may fend for ourselves, Rico. And thank you for your fine attention this evening."

"I wholeheartedly agree." I extended a forepaw to the butler, quite against protocol, but the look in my eyes allowed him to take the gesture as intended. "Thank you, Rico. It's been a pleasure, truly. And the rooibos is excellent."

"Merci, monsieur." His voice cracked very slightly. "It would be an honor to serve you again."

As the butler took his leave, I felt the atmosphere in the room change slightly. With the staff safely out of the way, the rest of the evening could take its course entirely in private. It was about this time, in my long experience, that conversation and actions began to turn toward perhaps the oldest of my professions. I was well prepared for the comparatively endless possibilities, including those which ended simply with my retrieving my cloak and departing with nothing beyond a simple pawshake. The young badger did not disappoint me, although he did surprise me - not an easy feat.

"Was Rico right about you, Sebastian?"

"In what way?"

"Mon renard magique, I believe he said." The badger did not look coy, nor conniving, nor anything other than what I might call hopeful. "You appear to be about my own age - thirty-two - but you could not have accomplished all that you have in just that amount of time. Perhaps you are concealing it now, but I imagine you've another tail, or will soon."

I smiled at my host's presumption, speaking softly. "A year or two, perhaps. Has the tea robbed you of your discretion, young diplomat?"

He shook his head slowly. "I am risking that you truly do care for candor, Sebastian. I have something to ask of you that may go beyond what you are willing to share with any client." He leaned forward, regarding me directly, asking boldly. "Can you show me what it feels like to be in your body?"

The obvious sexual entendre was not lost on me, but neither was it present in his question. "You are asking if I can transform you into a 'taur?"

"No," he shook his head. "But I would ask you to... perhaps 'hypnotize' is not the correct term."

He struggled for words. I felt the desire to help him, but I still wasn't quite sure what it is that he wanted from me. I waited patiently, until he gathered himself again.

"Sebastian, I appreciate your patience. Perhaps if I stepped back a moment." He breathed slowly, considering. "I'm young, but I've had experience as a negotiator. I've done well for my company, and they know it." He waved a casual paw around the suite. "As you can see, they do appreciate me. I have not compromised my principles, or at least that's what I tell myself. I have the feeling that I may have a great deal of reflecting to do in my later life, but for now, at least, I sleep well enough at night." He paused, his eyes turned away, reflecting. "I sleep alone."

I wasn't sure why this was important. As I waited for him to speak, I sipped at my tea and wondered if my original certainty wasn't incorrect after all.

"The Prince is said to have... interesting tastes."

Setting down my cup and saucer, I spoke softly. "I believe I've heard that said, yes."

"I'm not at all sure what that means."

"It is a euphemism to cover a variety of things, from modes of dress to more specific activities. If it helps you at all, I've not heard that the Prince cares for anything that is truly dangerous or damaging. Physically, at least." I shifted slightly on the settee, keeping my voice low and calm. "Lowell, would you consider yourself experienced in the ways of sexuality?"

"Only rarely with males," he said, with a gentle candor. "And never with..."

I nodded slowly. "Why did you ask me what it was like to be--"

He cut me off with a wave of his forepaw. "I was being foolish. I am somewhat insecure in my abilities with ordinary male furs, but at least I have my own body as a frame of reference. Perhaps - if you are willing to teach me - I can simply learn from being with you. If there is time in our contract, of course. I'm sure that I could provide for an extension of time if..."

Slipping off the chaise longue, I moved toward him slowly. "Stand with me." I gestured for him to move in front of me, more or less in the middle of the room. I brought him close, my forepaws on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Lowell, I do not use my abilities lightly. This is not about a change in my fees; few of my clients know that I am Kitsune, as I've enough notoriety simply being a 'taur. What I am proposing is the equivalent of joining minds, in a limited fashion. I will project into your mind the sensations of having a 'taur's form. Your physical body will not change, but the mental projection may cause an occasional sense of having phantom limbs. This will not cause damage in any way, although you may experience something like memories that are stronger than most. Sensations experienced during a merging are described as feeling like an intensely powerful dream. It is not literally dangerous; it will, however, not be something easily changed or erased. Are you sure that you want to know this?"

His dark eyes held mine steadily. "Yes, Sebastian. I trust you."

There are some, in my experience, who treasure those three words above three others that are so often considered more important. I nodded slowly. "Close your eyes, Lowell." He did so, and I moved my forepaws to his head, gently canting his muzzle to one side of my own and guiding his forehead downward slightly to touch mine. "Breathe deeply," I whispered, "and dream..."

He was a natural. It took only seconds for me to whisper into the fore-chamber of his mind and then to find the picture that was his visualization of his body. My will moved and shifted the imagined flesh, painlessly adding, forming, shaping - the center of the body elongating and moving backward, his hindpaws traveling behind him as new, front paws came to touch the floor directly below what was his upper torso. His lungs grew larger inside his vertical frame, his belly becoming horizontal to the floor, his heart doubling in size to accommodate the blood flow, slowing considerably as the body was at rest yet pumping nearly double the amount of blood per minute. In this, we 'taurs owe much to the anatomy of equines, as well as to their stamina.

The musculature throughout his anatomy was recreated similar to my own, even his brain slightly larger to allow for the extra nerve bundles for information and control. I helped to send familiar signals first, as his forepaws moved up to touch my shoulders, then to let him sense his new front legs, raising each one after the other, understanding their motion, their strength, their purpose in holding him up. His hind quarters shifted slightly as well, his tail still where it was yet possibly out of reach behind him. Likewise, his genitals were in their accustomed place, but behind rather than below, and he was aware also that they, like other organs, were somewhat larger than before. This, too, is a debt to equines.

Lowell felt himself, or more accurately, he let himself be aware of the new amount of space that he took up in the room. He was larger yet not taller, more full yet not fattened. He became aware of what most furs called their "personal space," expanded to a far greater range behind him than he had ever considered. He also became aware of the need, more common to 'taurs than to other furs, to know what or who was behind him. I projected an image to him of grooming a feral horse - when moving behind the feral, it was best to keep one paw touching his side and rump, to let him know where you were. He became aware of an even greater importance for his enhanced ears to swivel and bend to locate sounds coming from behind. Though larger than most furs, 'taurs are vulnerable to attack from behind. I felt more than actually thought that the position of the_chaise longue_ would best be made with the front toward any doors or entrances to the room, the back toward a wall or other measure of safety.

I held the sensation in his mind for perhaps twenty seconds before slowly bringing him back to himself. His mind made token resistance, but he knew his true physical form, and he accepted it readily enough. I was ready to release him, when he shifted his muzzle slightly and, eyes still closed, he kissed me.

The kiss itself was not unexpected, but the timing caught me. I still joined his mind, the touching of our lips made yet more intimate by the connection. It's possible to create recursion, feeling yourself kissing another who is in a sense yourself. The sensation is both erotic and rare, seductive for the synergy that it creates - an intimacy with yourself, through another, through yourself, responding and reacting to actions that you initiate yet are themselves responses. What was startling was a dual revelation. For the first time, I realized that I had never before kissed another 'taur.

Until now.

I broke both the kiss and the mental connection slowly and with some reluctance. Looking into Lowell's eyes, I saw that he felt the same, but not for the same reason. My forepaws were still upon his head, and I pet him gently for a moment. "Part of me wants to say that I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked simply.

"I feel as if I've taken from you. I've stepped too far into your mind."

He smiled a little. "Or perhaps not far enough."

"Does anyone else know...?"

The badger sighed deeply, there in my arms, and even though I was not connected to him, I felt the anguish inside him. "He was taken, smothered, and cremated almost upon the moment. I didn't know for many years. My mother died soon after I was born. The old 'uns would say that she died of a broken heart. I don't remember her much; my father rarely spoke of her. I grew up in a very strict environment. I sometimes wonder if that's what finally drove him mad."

"He told you."

"Oh, he didn't mean to." Lowell found his way back to his chair and collapsed into it. "He suffered several strokes - 'shocks,' to use the old term - and it seemed to bring on the dementia. Most of what he said, I disregarded; outrageous claims, accusations, so-called memories that simply could not be possible. And yet that one thing stuck in my mind. That one impossible idea that somehow rang true in me. And then I found the proof." His forepaws went to his face, rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I can only imagine that it was some kind of leverage against my mother's family, or... I don't know why he kept it. Documents, stamped but never filed. Something about non-disclosure, signed by doctors, nurses. And a photograph."

I moved to stand near his chair, put out a forepaw to him. "Your twin."

He said nothing.

"Not quite identical, although..." I paused. "Lowell, forgive me if I'm saying too much, but... I felt him. Or at least, I felt what you could have been. When our minds joined, it was easy to let you feel the extended body of a 'taur; part of your brain was ready to be wired that way, to the body that you too should have had, when something changed there in the womb. As it is with so many twins, he is still with you."

"Yes. He is. And that's why I was so afraid..." His voice cracked and, at long last, the tears came. I was glad to see them. Denying pain destroyed his father; feeling it would save him.

I shifted to give him my shoulder to cry upon, and I pet him tenderly. "Can't someone take your place at this meeting?"

"No. I'll have to do this. It's my job, my life. It's what I do best." He pulled back, already regaining some of his strength. "I can do it now. Whatever it takes."

The words struck my heart. "That can't be part of your job..." I trailed off, knowing that I couldn't be more wrong. The look in his eyes told me what I had known for far too long.

"We're not that different, in our professions." He said it with a smile, but there was a sadness in his voice that told me the difference. I sought the work actively, having a commodity rare enough to command a high price. What I did was to provide companionship, in whatever form it was most needed. Lowell found himself both negotiator and negotiated, both the salesman and part of the deal. It was not what he had signed up for.

I was about to tell him that he didn't have to do it, that there are choices, that there are other things he could do, even rushing ahead of myself and wanting to offer him a way out, to help him until he was able to find something better... The words cut themselves off before they even started. In spite of not knowing what lay ahead on this path, he had chosen it. He might choose differently afterward, but for now, changing direction was not an option that would serve him.

"When do you leave?" I asked him.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

I nodded. "You tried to see me sooner. My schedule was full, and..." I reached out to touch his cheek. "Time is not kind to us."

He only shook his head.

"Lowell. I've shown you all I can as a tutor, and I've provided all I can as a companion. May I give you one more thing, as a friend?"

Managing a smile, he said, "I thought you said that business and relationships don't mix well."

"One advantage to being Kitsune: There's time to find out." I returned the smile softly, leaned in to kiss him once more. As I did so, I used the touch that we had shared before to let him step inside my mind. To show all that I wanted would have taken days, but instead I held one image to his attention and coupled it to the passion of my heart. The kiss burned low and strong between us, as he reached out to grip my arms, to grip his arms, to feel himself, to feel me, to feel the other spirit still within him, to bring back what was stolen from him so long ago. And there, in that mental, emotional, passionate joining, for the first time, I made love to a 'taur...