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Chapter Three

Zinc left the safety and the seclusion of his home. The storehouse had become boring now that there was another to share it with. He did not wake her, closing the door behind him without stirring so much as a grain of sand on the floor. Once he was outside, there was only one place he could go.

Dirst was a wealthy brothel master in the slums of the city. His was the only tavern in the country however, that catered to everyone, regardless of stature or the size of the wallet. The latter simply bought more from his girls, and that was all.

He was a short, fat, slanderous man, a hound dog, incapable of tracking now, as his bar was so full of smoke and the stench of rotting food that his sense of smell was impaired such that he couldn't have smelled a skunk's spray go off right beside him. His fur was a dark shade of brown, which in the low light seemed to be black, and in the dark corner that was his place to sit all day, every day, he looked to the simple man, very foreboding.

Zinc entered the brothel nonchalantly, slipping through the doors with his stealth and grace, alerting only one person to his presence, a female by the counter who watched the door swing open and closed all day as if in a trance. Her name was Felicia, but she was not whom he wished to see.

He sat down at the table reserved for the manager Dirst and leaned forward on his arm, saying nothing, staring deeply at the hound dog, asking questions and frightening the nearly helpless canine with the stone glare of his.

"What do you want, my friend?" asked the hound. He waved to one of his girls who came to sit beside him on the long, cushioned bench, snuggling beside the large girth of the unnaturally fat dog. "You usually don't come here unless you want one of my girls. Who shall it be tonight?"

"None. I have no interest in them tonight," Zinc replied, then he continued, "I must ask you several questions. I wish only the truthful answers."

The hound dog laughed, "The "honest" answers you say? My friend. Zinc. I am always honest."

Zinc smiled wryly at the hound dog as if to shake the entirety of the canine's statement off his shoulders. He knew perfectly well what kind of a liar Dirst could be.

"You were married correct?"

The hound dog looked up at him, strangely amused by the new question. "Somehow I never expected it of you Zinc. Who is the unlucky victim?"

"I am not, Dirst, answer the question," Zinc said in a commanding tone.

"Yes, I was married before you were born. A girl who could suck the colour off marble statues." The girl beside him grinned and chuckled in delight at the analogy, "But what is this? If you are not married, why ask me such things?"

"Did you ever love her Dirst?" came the next question.

Now Dirst looked at the boy in front of him with a harsher and more serious gaze. He analyzed Zinc to the point where he became dizzy with his unblinking eyes. He placed his hand in one fluid motion on the table and left it flat. "Leave us," he said to the girl, who obeyed without hesitation and went back to work waiting tables at the bar. "You my friend, have no right to be asking me these questions, but to answer the question, yes, I did, for a time. She betrayed me Zinc, she..."

"I need not any anecdotes Dirst. What did the emotion feel like?"

"Why ask me this Zinc? What truth do you wish to hear?"

"You shall know my story when you are finished with this question," answered Zinc, bringing a leg up to cross over the other, cupping his hands on his knee. His favourite and most comfortable position, but one he only used when listening intently.

The hound dog sighed. "You will never know what it feels like. It simply happens. My account will make little difference in what you will feel, I assure you of it, for you are no heartbreaker Zinc, I know that much of you at least. Hell, I raised you out of poverty remember? You were quite the actor before you left."

"It will help me, because my story is one that you will have never heard muttered from any other man."

Zinc told the canine just what had happened, leaving out certain details where he deemed appropriate, simply omitting the graphics. When he had finished, right up to the current moment, Dirst leaned back on his chair and brought his one hand to his chin, stroking the fur lightly, then scratching his chin, pulling at his face to make the skin straighten out.

"You are right my friend, it is one that I have not heard before, but which I have only dreamed of. You say that she expressed love enough for you that she accepted to be thrown from her own home just to be with you? She is the daughter of... "Him," Zinc! Damn it all! You have caught the eye of an heiress. Had you been someone else, you could have been rich beyond comprehension..."

The dog no longer spoke to him with an air of unfeeling or sarcasm, but was now genuinely interested in everything Zinc had told him, and was telling him.

"I know perfectly well whom she was, and what she had been in line to inherit. My question is: how do I love someone that has, as of yet, only expressed such feelings for me? I have no time to be frolicking romantically with this woman! I have not had time enough to know her, I met her only last night!"

The feline seemed to be on the brink of, not tears, but of emotions that he had for a long time suppressed. They seemed to be resurfacing, and he did not wish them to.

"You will know in time my friend. Don't feel as though you must rush towards her. If she does truly love you, which she must, if she let you do the things that I believe she has done," Zinc looked at him, aware now that he needed not tell Dirst what had happened, because he already put the numbers together. "You are a fine lad Zinc. In the years you lived with me, you were never a disappointment. In fact, you're the reason I have so many customers I do today." The hound dog laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "In the meantime though, I may have a way to find out what you might feel. My girls have ways of extracting many sorts of..." he smiled, "Information, from a person."

Dirst waved to a girl at the far end of the bar, the one who watched the door as a constant. Felicia.

"Felicia, please, darling," began Dirst, "Zinc here requires some of your professional attention."

The dog smiled wryly and without even moving Zinc to privacy leaned over to him and smiled.

"Cutie here needs something from me?" she asked tentatively, "Well there are many ways in which to please a man, how do you like it?"

"Dirst," said Zinc, "This is not what I need," he completely ignored the passes that the girl made on him, and pushed her to the chair beside him, sitting her down.

Dirst simply smiled and motioned for Felicia to continue. She did so as though an automaton performing menial labour. She slipped under the table and began groping at Zinc's pant buckles, removing them and slipping her hand into his pants.

Zinc stared at Dirst with a glare that could have pierced stone, but Dirst simply sat back and smiled at him. "You will know exactly what I mean when she is done."

With that, Zinc looked down at Felicia, who had pulled away his short pants and his underclothes, leaving him exposed on the bench, his member beginning to swell to attention as she gently played it through her fingers expertly.

She leaned close to his hardening cock and breathed a warm breath on the tip, the air gliding around the head to the base, coating the now erect cock with a fluid-like barrier of heat. He breathed hard, as she delicately teased the tip of his cock with her tongue, slipping it over the length to the base, and returning to the head. She dipped her tongue onto his tip and tasted the fresh tang of precum that began to dribble slowly.

He opened his legs a little to allow her greater passage to his groin and she took this invitation to its fullest, using one hand to gently massage his balls in her palm, the other resting at the base, sliding with only short thrusts at the hilt of his cock. She slowly leaned forward and took the length of his shaft into her muzzle. She was also a vixen, so she had little trouble engorging the entirety of his cock in her mouth.

He gasped suddenly and his hands gripped the table with brute force from the shock of the new pleasuring. Still, though, he thought, this is nothing like Shantee. His mind wandered, only moving to images of his lover, and ignoring the girl on his cock. It was just not the same, there was something more with sleeping with Shantee, a connection, deep within him, that he felt no where in this girl, who to him would be more useful right now watching the door. She served no real purpose, and even her hard suction that she placed on his sensitive flesh under the table, could not compare to what Shantee had offered him without the simplest command. To him, this was stoic.

Zinc took her head in his hands, lifting her off his cock, looking down at her without emotion. She stared back; somewhat surprised that he was able to have such control over his body as she was sucking on him, but more annoyed and offended that it happened at all.

"Go now. You're no longer needed here," he said to her. He pulled his shorts from the floor and strapped them back on. She looked at him in near shock and got up from out of the table and stormed off, clenching her fist to her sides.

He looked at Dirst, who seemed to be taking the sight of him in with reverie.

"And now you know, and I know my friend. There was something in you for her."

Zinc got up from his seat and stared at Dirst, who looked back at him unafraid. "So by comparison, I should take your charity to mean that you are trying to affect me away from her?"

"Not at all, my friend. By comparison, you know that there was a connection between you and the girl. None of mine will ever be a good enough comparison for you. You know what you want, and right now, I know that too. Go now. I think that you will need my services not, any longer." The dog smiled at Zinc as he turned and left the brothel.

Somehow, the fat, whore master was right. For a drunkard, a liar, a cheat and the worst kind of mentor, he was quite wise in his own way, as strangely twisted as that was. Zinc walked away from the whore house, never once looking back on its dilapidated walls and shabby, two-bit exterior, not to mention its tasteless and fanciless interior, which he suspected was to get the patrons out after a while. How long could one look at purely purple walls with portraits of former employees hanging awkwardly from the cracked stone?

The smell of fresh air met Zinc's nostrils instantly, and he thanked God now that he was rid of the place. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, what Dirst brought upon him, but one he had to convince himself was necessary. At least that's how Dirst viewed it, and now that he thought about it, the whole process had seemed to take its toll on him as he began to feel a little tired.

The sun was lower in the sky now, hovering just barely over the buildings of the small city. Darkness loomed with long shadows from the objects obstructing the gaze of the sun as it set. By the time he was home, the sun had all but disappeared from the horizon, twilight hour beginning, and the night just coming to life, as the city went to sleep.

Zinc opened the door to his home and stood in partial shock, the fact now just clicking in his brain that she was here to stay. She was kneeling on the thick carpet, which he had spread on the ground as the area to walk and sleep. Small dark patches dotted the fabric, leaving him to believe that she had been crying for much of the day. He didn't speak, but watched in near terror at the girl who sat on his carpet wept helplessly in his home. He froze, unable to attend to her because of no experience. She looked up at him pitifully, her eyes bloodshot from crying and she stared at him, sniffling.

"You're back..." she whispered.

He paused for a long moment, "Yes," he replied, still unsure of what really to say to her.

She smiled, her tears moving away from her as though with the change in the winds, as they picked up outside and whistled by the door. He sat down next to her and stared into her eyes, for the first time not with the hardened gaze that he had given the whore that afternoon, but to a somewhat lesser extent, caring. She found that emotion in his eyes and she fell into his arms, reflexively cradling her as she wept onto his shirt.