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Captain Connor Wallace received his orders with his breakfast.

He stuffed his nose in a mug of coffee to drink in the dark, rich scents of the brew, savoring its purity. One thing he could say for diplomatic escort duties, he got to drink the good stuff. It was so much better than the cut trash they'd served in the field when he was a scout. Awkward footsteps brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up to find a young, lean coyote in an aide's uniform standing beside him. The lad had his paws clasped tightly behind him as he stood at attention, the twitch of his sandy tail betraying his efforts to hide his agitation.

Connor eyed him sidelong for a moment before resigning himself. He sighed and sat back. "Aye, lad?"

The coyote ducked his muzzle and blurted out, "Colonel Tannerly sends word he expects to see you in his office 'as soon as is convenient.'" His delivery left no room for doubt as to Tannerly's intent.

Connor felt his shoulders sag at those words; all plans for a leisurely breakfast before reporting to his office at an entirely reasonable hour had been dashed. Personnel reports would go unwritten, and no doubt new work would pile on top of them.

He looked forlornly at his mug, then up at the aide. "Do you like coffee, pup?"

The aide looked stunned at the question. "Err, yes?"

Connor stood and shoved the mug into his paw. "Well, here you go. Would be a shame to waste it." He placed a stack of quarters on the table next to his plate and strode out, leaving the aide in his wake. Delaying the meeting would benefit nothing at all, so he might as well get to it.

A short walk and three flights of stairs later, and he found himself outside a door bearing gold-leafed script that declared "Lieutenant Colonel Albert Tannerly." The familiar scent of the Colonel's whisky was stronger than usual, which, coupled with the soft murmur of voices, suggested that Tannerly had a guest. He paused, straightening his uniform, then knocked smartly.

"Come."

He pushed through the door, and his suspicion was confirmed: Alfred Harris, a portly black lab sat comfortably in a chair to one side of Tannerly's desk and raised his glass to Connor when the wolf entered.

Connor stood at attention in front of Tannerly's desk. "Captain Wallace reporting as ordered, sir."

Tannerly's desk was spread with several folders, and the older dog tapped a claw on one of them as he regarded Connor quietly for a few moments. "Captain Wallace, at ease. I expected you half an hour ago."

Connor tucked his paws against the small of his back. "I came as soon as I heard, sir."

Tannerly raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Captain Wallace, you are here to be briefed on tonight's assignment. While on the surface, this a fairly standard diplomatic escort assignment, we've only just nailed down the final details, and I want you to have as much time as possible to familiarize yourself with the finer details. The State Department is hosting a ball for the European delegations that are in town right now. Our primary concern is that we will have representatives from both Italy and Austria present, and as you might be aware, there's no small amount of animosity between them, as the Italians only recently finished kicking the Austrians out."

He sighed and picked up a small folder, gesturing with it as he spoke. "Of particular note is one Juan Carlos Genial. He's a Spaniard of the Bourbon line, but he's spent quite a lot of time with family in Austria, so you get the best of Austrian animosity and Spanish fire. To top it off, they only recently got control of their own country back. These factors alone would be cause enough for concern, but Señor Genial known to be especially difficult, and has quite a reputation with the women. Unfortunately, he is popular with our Austrian associates, so we could not neglect to invite him."

Connor raised an eyebrow at this. Señor Genial sounded like the sort of pompous prick that had gotten him into trouble on assignments in the past. He'd have to be sure he was on his very best behavior this time.

Harris unfolded himself from the couch and stood, straightening his jacket with one paw. "Connor, you should understand that now that the Italian Unification has mostly settled out, Milan's manufacturing has become interested in foreign markets. You are being given a special assignment to escort Signora Fiammetta Buozzi. Her family owns quite a few manufactories, and she is in charge of negotiating their foreign contracts."

He paused to sniff his whisky. "She has something of a history with Señor Genial. As such, she has requested we provide her an escort for the evening. You will not simply follow her around, rather, you will be her escort for the event itself. As such, you will accompany her, dance with her, and generally do whatever else it is that she requests. The hope is that if she has a gentleman with her at all times, Genial will be more likely to leave her alone. If things go well, she has agreed to open negotiations with us."

Connor waited a moment to see if Harris had any more to add, then addressed Tannerly. "Sir, I have concerns about this assignment. A personal escort job, particularly one as sensitive as this, really seems like Lieutenant Morrison's specialty."

Tannerly held up a paw, acknowledging and forestalling him in a single gesture. "I agree, Captain. Normally, Morrison would be my first choice, but this will require dancing, and we both know he could not dance if his life depended upon it. You, on the other hand, are known to be a competent dancer. Further, you are the only man in our detachment who speaks passable Italian, and Mr. Harris here believes this will create a good impression."

Harris nodded his ascent and returned his nose to his glass.

Connor's tail flicked once behind him as he caught a fresh whiff of the whiskey. A dram was growing more appealing the more he learned about this assignment.

Tannerly pulled a small, wooden case out of his desk drawer, then opened it and set it down on the desk facing Connor. Inside was a pair of shoulder knots in black with gold oak leaves. "The other reason Morrison is a poor fit is that Mr. Harris would like to see this assigned to a senior officer. As you are the best candidate for the job, it is fortunate that I have just received approval to award you the brevet rank of Major."

He stood and extended his paw. Connor blinked, then recovered himself and shook it. Though brevet conferred nothing but the title and insignia, he'd still expected it to be several more years, at best, before he saw oak leaves on his shoulders.

Harris took the opportunity to shake Connor's paw as well, muttering a quiet congratulations.

Tannerly closed the case and added it to the stack of folders he handed to Connor. "Brevet Major Wallace, if this goes well, it would greatly smooth the path to promotion to full major within the year." He paused, appearing to consider something more. "What you should be reading between the lines here, Wallace, is not to fuck this up. Dismissed!"

Connor snapped to attention again. "Sir!" He nodded to Mr. Harris, then turned sharply and strode out of the Colonel's office. He fought to keep his tail under control as he considered that this assignment was already looking up.

---

It was a short walk north and east around the White House from Connor's office to the Arlington Hotel. He paused inside the lobby to get his bearings and straightened his jacket as he took in the environment. It was early yet for the ball, and the lobby was fairly empty. His ear swiveled to the sound of a familiar gait, and the turned to find a grey hound approaching him, also wearing Army blues. The hound's flopped ears were pricked, and his tongue lolled out of his muzzle in a grin.

Connor rolled his eyes. "Put your tongue back in your mouth, Jack. You look entirely too pleased with yourself."

Captain Jack Morrison barked a short laugh as he grasped Connor's paw firmly. "Hah! That I might, Major Wallace. I get to run the floor crew tonight, while you are are stuck following some self-important bitch -- excuse me, an honored guest of Mr. Harris -- around this shindig."

Connor squeezed Jack's paw in return. "That I do, you smug bastard. At least I won't have to worry about the rest of the place."

Jack grinned. "Aye, that's the idea. We do the hard work, you get drunk with the upper-class." The dog shrugged. "We'll see how it goes. First time running the show, y'know?"

He squeezed the dog's shoulder. "You'll be fine. Those Captain's bars look good on you; I'm sure you'll grow into them soon enough." His ears flicked. "It's me I'm worried about. Personal escort is your area of expertise."

Jack laughed again, tongue lolling back out of his mouth before he reined it back in. "It's easy. Smile at the ladies, keep your mouth shut unless you're addressed directly, and don't let the pricks goad you into saying anything stupid. It's like being a cadet all over again, except there are women."

Connor shook his head. "I never quite get you, Jack. In any case, have fun. I have to see to Signora Buozzi."

Jack raised both his eyebrows and grinned at that, then walked off before Connor could say anything. Connor glared after him for a moment, then made his way up the stairs to see to his assignment.

Signora Buozzi's room was only one floor up from the lobby, so he found himself there before he was entirely ready. He took a moment to collect himself, drawing in a breath through his nose. He paused to pick through the scents: the wood, leather, carpet, and masonry of the hotel, plus the mingled natural and perfumed scents of guests and servants. He exhaled slowly, relaxing. His tail stilled behind him and his ears settled into a neutral position.

He knocked. There was a brief pause, then a lightly-accented voice responded. "Che?"

He clasped his paws behind his back, resting them over the root of his tail. "È Maggiore Connor Wallace. Sono la tua scorta per la festa."

The door opened to reveal a tall, grey-furred lupine woman in a dark blue dress that matched his uniform. Strapless, it hugged her form in a natural-looking way that suggested to Connor that her corset was strictly for support. Support, he noted, that she made good use of. The dress flowed off her hips and fell nearly straight down, flaring near the floor. Her dark dress and natural form would stand out at the ball, and he found the choice intriguing.

She tapped her foot, and the light clack of her sole on the threshold brought him back to the moment.

"I know they have not sent me a mute." She made a show of looking both ways down the hall. "Unless your speaker has run off and left you here to gawp in silence."

Connor coughed. "No, ma'am, I can speak."

She looked him over and nodded. "Very good. I see I shall have to thank Mr. Harris for his description of your uniform. It would be a crime to only almost match." She stepped into the hall, pausing to lock her door and slip the key into a pocket. She held out a paw and smiled down at him. "Ah, I have neglected my manners. Sono Fiammetta Buozzi."

He ducked his head as he lifted her paw, half bowing to her. "Signora Buozzi. Che bella."

She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. Her tail swayed behind her, betraying a black tip to the grey brush. "You are off to a good start, Maggiore Wallace. No. Connor. E, call me Fiammetta. This may be work for both of us, but we should at least make an effort enjoy it."

He relaxed slightly, his tail giving a short wave behind him, as well. When he offered his arm, she slipped her paw into the crook of his elbow. "I am looking forward to it more already, Fiammetta"

She patted his shoulder. "Very good. You are a quick learner. I have higher hopes for the evening already." She patted his shoulder and gestured down the hall. " Now, it is far too early to be at the ball. Let us retire to the lounge for a drink."

---

They lingered in the Arlington's lounge as they waited for the ball to begin.

Fiammetta recounted her time growing up in Milan under Austrian rule, and then being a young woman in her twenties in the newly-formed Kingdom of Italy. Her family had taken full advantage of the business opportunities presented by both war and peace, which had left them with quite a lot of manufacturing to manage. She'd spent the twenty years since the Austrians had been evicted working for her family and had recently begun managing the business's contracts abroad.

Connor related his own stories of growing up in the war; he'd with his mother and older brother small plantation in central Virginia while his father had served as an officer for the losing side. Coming of age a few years after the war, and with his brother in line to inherit the plantation, Connor had he studied engineering at a military college and commissioned in the Army. While the choice had caused some tension between him and his father, the old wolf had eventually decided that, if Colonel Mosby could support Grant's presidential campaign, he could abide by his son serving in blue.

Connor and Fiammetta had just stood to leave when she stiffened and glared at the entrance. From the twitch of her muzzle and the lift in her hackles, Connor could tell it was a near thing that she wasn't growling. He followed her gaze and found a group of wolves and pointy-eared shepherds lingering in the lobby. One wolf in the group bore the white stripes along his muzzle that spoke of an Iberian origin. While the group bore Austrian insignia, the Iberian wolf bore both Austrian and Spanish arms.

Connor raised an eyebrow as he eyed the group. "Austrian and Spanish, manages to look like a prick from way over here. Must be Señor Juan Carlos Genial." He glanced back at Fiammetta. "I take it you've met?"

She turned his glare to him for a moment, then relaxed marginally. "Sì. The Austrians can at least pretend to be civil, but Genial seems to have it in his head to be boorish enough for the lot." She sighed and threw up a paw in disgust. "So, of course, I must do business with them."

He grimaced briefly, then settled into a neutral expression. "Of course. And I understand that Señor Genial has quite the reputation with the ladies."

She barked out a laugh, "Hah! He has a reputation for having his way with the ladies. And as his family would love to regain some of their lost influence in Milan, he has come sniffing around more than a few times, though he always makes it clear he thinks he's doing us a favor by his interest." She hooked her paw into his elbow again and patted his shoulder. "That is, in part, why you are here. But look, they depart. Perhaps I can avoid talking to the Austrians for a time. Now, let us join the party."

They entered the ballroom and paused to be announced, "Signora Fiammetta Buozzi, and escort." Connor caught Jack's eye across the room and shot him a quick, toothy grin. Jack would get back at him later, no doubt, but he'd enjoy the memory of the stunned look on the hound's face until then. Fiammetta was not what any of them had been expecting.

She led them into the fray, where he worked to establish himself as a man of few words. He shook paws and spoke as needed as she moved between knots of guests. He was struck by the way she seemed to run each conversation as though it was a meeting for which she owned the agenda. He was glad his job was to be seen at her side, and not to make conversation. He found he had a tendency to get into trouble when he spoke to nobility at length, and there were no small number present that evening.

Eventually, their slow circuit of the room brought them to the group of Austrians they had seen earlier.

She smiled politely at the eldest-looking of them and curtsied lightly. "Ahh, Herr Albrecht, you are looking well."

The older wolf nodded. "Signora Buozzi, I am indeed well." He waved a paw at her, encompassing Connor with the gesture. "I take it you are well enough. You seem to have found an adequate man to accompany you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Major Wallace here is quite a bit more than adequate. I am most thankful to Mr. Harris for making such a fine gentleman available to me."

Connor ducked his head and gave a very small bow. "Herr Albrecht."

Albrecht studied him closely for a moment. "Major Wallace. Had I known Mr. Harris was being so generous towards his guests, perhaps I should have requested an escort, myself."

"I hope he would at least get a better quality of woman! Surely Harris could have found better than some than just a common soldier to accompany the merchant princess."

Albrecth flicked an ear. "Ah, Juan Carlos. You always did make up for in enthusiasm what you lacked in tact."

Juan Carlos stepped forward and took Fiammetta's paw, lifting it to kiss her fingers. "Signora Buozzi. It would have been my pleasure to see to your needs this evening."

"I'm sure." She narrowed her eyes and pulled her paw away as soon as she could. "But, Señor, when did you decide you would be seen with those who've earned their money? Would not my paws be too rough and my mind too full of ideas for you?"

Albrecht chuckled. "She does have a point. Were not the last several women I saw on your arm rather, hmm, schlecht? Nein." He paused. "Gentler, perhaps?"

Juan Carlos's ears flicked back for a moment. "They were ladies of good breeding, who understood that it was not their place to sully themselves with work."

She laughed. "Hah! I'm sure breeding is all they were good for!"

Connor cleared his throat. "Ah, gentlemen, m'lady, do forgive me. I have been remiss and have yet to offer Signora Buozzi a dance. One is about to begin, so, signora, would you do me the honor of a dance?"

She smiled at him and laid a paw on his shoulder. "Ah! Sì, signor, but of course." She half-curtsied to the group. "Herr Albrecht, gentleman, I must abandon you. It was lovely chatting with you, and I look forward to future discussions."

As they joined the circle of dance, Fiammetta laughed softly. "Ah, Connor, very nicely done. If I'd had to listen to Juan Carlos any longer, I think I might have torn out his throat on the spot."

They stepped with the music, and he grinned. "My pleasure." He led them through a spinning turn and caught sight of Juan Carlos looking at them as they danced, only just managing to hide a glare. "I must confess, I was having similar thoughts, myself."

She grinned at him, and they danced in silence for a while. She let him lead, which he found something of a surprise; it was not often he'd danced with a woman who lead conversations so easily and yet let her partner lead on the dance floor. Pleased, he lead her through some complicated figures and savored the way she read his leads so skillfully. She met his smile, and his tail swayed behind him as they moved to the music.

The waltzes stopped and started several times before Fiammetta announced she needed a break. She led him off the dance floor and through a door to an alcove off a side hall. "Grazie, Connor." She glanced back through the door as it closed. "And perhaps that idiot Juan Carlos will take the hint and keep to himself."

He raised an eyebrow. "Mmm, I noticed he was wandering this way. He doesn't seem like the type to take a hint."

She shook her head and flicked her ears, flattening them briefly. "Indeed not." She growled softly when the door opened, then clasped her paws together. Her voice bore far more sweetness than he suspected was genuine. "Señor Genial, whatever can we do for you?"

Juan Carlos pushed through the door, a fresh-looking champagne flute in his grip. While didn't stagger as he approached, he reeked of champagne and moved with a deliberation inconsistent with sobriety. "Signora Buozzi, there you are!" He looked at Connor, eyes flicking between his face and his shoulder knots. "And...Major Wallace, I believe. How good to find you both here! I had hoped the lady would do me the honor of a dance. It would seem wrong of you to monopolize her for the night."

Fiammetta raised an eyebrow. "Mi dispiace, signor, but I would prefer not. I could do with a break just now, for Major Wallace here has tired me out." She rested a paw on his arm, as though to emphasize the point.

"Ah, what a shame, señora." He took a sip from his glass and fairly leered at her. "If you are tired, perhaps I should see you to your room. I would not wish for you to fall faint in the middle of that crowd."

Connor coughed. "Señor Genial, I do believe the lady would prefer you leave her be. I am certain I can see her safe to her room, should she require such assistance."

Juan Carlos shifted his attention to Connor with a glare. "Major Wallace, what would a common soldier know about meeting the needs of a lady? She may not be born to noble blood, but she is certainly your better."

Connor furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw to keep quiet. His ears twitched and his tail lashed as he searched for a polite response in vain. Mr. Harris's admonition to avoid antagonizing the Spaniard rang in his ears.

Juan Carlos turned his attention back to Fiammetta. He took her paw in his and lifted it, ducking his muzzle to kiss her fingers.

Her ears tucked back against her head, and her expression shifted briefly to one of disgust. She mustered her control before he looked up at her and tugged at his grip. "Señor, I am flattered, but that is quite enough."

He kept hold of her paw. "But, señora, I must insist. Let us retire to your quarters, and I shall show you just what it is I can offer a woman of your birth." His smile widened, and Connor was surprised to find that Juan Carlos could, in fact, grow even more distasteful.

Fiammetta growled quietly as she jerked her paw back once more, but Juan Carlos kept his hold. She backhanded him across the muzzle. "Release me, you mongrel!"

He let her go, then. Silent for the moment, he rubbed a paw across where she'd hit him.

Connor could certainly justify intervening now, and he stepped between them. "Señor, I believe the lady has expressed her opinion on your further company. Please leave us."

"You bitch! You jumped-up, low-bred bitch," Juan Carlos yelled past Connor, glaring at Fiammetta. Growling, he elbowed Connor aside with surprising strength and raised his right paw to backhand her in return.

Connor recovered himself and stepped behind Juan Carlos. He grabbed the wrist of that upraised paw and pinned it to the other wolf's shoulder. Juan Carlos struggled, twisting and trying to elbow him. He pressed heavily on Juan Carlos's shoulders and drove his boot through the back of the Spaniard's knee. Juan Carlos landed heavily on both knees and nearly pitched forward. Connor lowered his muzzle and growled into Juan Carlos's ear, "Señor, stop."

Connor had only a moment's warning before Fiammetta stepped forward and slapped Juan Carlos across his cheek. With her hips behind the blow, it drove his head up and back, and Juan Carlos's head struck Connor solidly in the muzzle. He staggered as the Spanish wolf sagged out of his grip and fell face-first to the ground.

He looked up at her and rubbed his jaw. "Well, that was unexpected." He looked back down at the fallen Juan Carlos. "And definitely not what Mr. Harris had in mind."

She growled. "Hmph! The arrogant bastard had it coming. I'm glad I had the excuse!" She looked around, and her eyes lit on a pair of chairs next to a side table. "Ah-hah! Get him to the chair. He'll be able to pass it off as though he simply passed out."

Connor raised an eyebrow as he hauled the heavy, limp form of Juan Carlos into the chair. . "You want to let him save face?"

She picked up the fallen champagne flute and set it on a table next to the chair Juan Carlos now occupied. "Yes... Much as it pains me, he will be less trouble this way." She shook her head as she took Connor's arm. "On the other hand, who knows when he will wake up? I believe I am done for the night. Let us see about getting you the room that adjoins mine, in case he is not content with one beating tonight."

Staying the night would only delay Harris's ire, but his orders had said he was assigned to her as needed, and he was sure the room would be more pleasant than his rather spare quarters near his office.

---

It was definitely more comfortable than his apartment.

The room was nearly larger than his apartment, with ample space for a dresser and several chairs and a small, separate room for washing and other sanitary needs.

Fiammetta came through the adjoining door to her room. She looked around the room, smiling. "Ahh, this will do. I am pleased to see they are living up to their reputation."

Connor laughed. "They certainly are." He waved a paw to encompass the room. "This is palatial."

"It is certainly comfortable enough." She laid a paw on his arm. "Connor, I want to thank you for your company tonight, and for your assistance with Genial."

"It was my duty, and my honor, signora." He raised an eyebrow; her paw lingered on his arm. "Though, I must say, you struck him quite hard. I take it his visits in the past have not been entirely cordial?"

She chuckled. "That they were not. He has made many inappropriate advances at me over the years, despite his insistence that a 'mere merchant woman' is beneath his 'royal blood.'" She paced away from him and threw up her arms. "I do not know! There are fleas that do more for this world than he does. Yet, no matter how he derides me, he will not leave me be. But perhaps he has learned a lesson from this! I can only hope."

He watched her pace as she muttered to herself. She moved beautifully, and anger lent her movements a purpose that he found delightfully distracting. She was almost distracting enough to keep him from recalling the mess he was going to be in when Harris found out about his thorough failure to follow what appeared to be a simple order. How hard was it really to avoid beating down some noble twit? Harder than he'd thought, clearly.

He cleared his throat. "Fiammetta, it occurs to me that Señor Genial must wake up at some point, and I have no doubt he'll be displeased at his treatment. Might I impose upon you to attest to Mr. Harris that he well and truly deserved it?"

She wheeled and fixed him with an intense look for a moment. "Ah! Yes!" She stalked back into the other room.

He looked after her sudden departure briefly, then shrugged. Finding himself with a moment on his own, he shucked his uniform jacket, laying it over a chair, then availed himself of the washbasin. He was drying off when she returned, his face buried in a towel.

"There! I have sent your Mr. Harris a letter detailing the situation and stating that I require your services through the night."

He lowered the towel and raised an eyebrow. "Mille grazie. I'm sure it won't satisfy him, but it should help." He grinned. "I should at least dodge a court martial."

"Good. It would be quite a shame if you were drummed out of the Army on my account." She grinned. "Although, perhaps I could have found a position for you."

He coughed quietly, his tail lashing briefly behind him. "That would certainly soften the blow, but I would prefer to retain my relationship with the Army for now."

"Indeed." She fixed him with that intense look again. "But speaking of relationships, I see no ring on your finger, so how is it that such a fine, young wolf as yourself has remained single?"

His tail stilled and tucked in close to his leg. "Ah, signora, if I may be so bold, I would ask you the same question."

"Hah! A fair question. I have not yet met a man who can fulfill all the duties of a husband. After all, he would, in effect, become a major partner in the family business. While men of such business sense certainly exist, none so far have also been the sort I wished to spend my life with." She grinned at him and reached out to prod his shoulder with a finger. "Now, you have only temporarily deflected my question. Why do you remain unclaimed?"

His ears splayed out and he grimaced. It was a question he'd pondered many times, himself. "I like to think that I am married to the Army. A year here, a year there. It's hardly the sort of life with which build a long-term relationship."

She cocked an eyebrow. "There are many married men in every army in the world who would disagree."

He shrugged and bought some time by moving the towel from around his neck to the back of a chair. "I suppose that's so. Then perhaps I simply haven't met the right woman to make me see otherwise."

She grinned, and her ears perked forward. "Ahh-hah, perhaps there is truth to that." Her tail waved slowly behind her, swishing over her dress. "Surely, then, you have enjoyed the occasional dalliance."

He coughed again and gripped at the back of the chair. "Ahh, signora, that is a very personal question. I don't think my superiors would approve if they found out we had this sort of discussion."

She raised an eyebrow. "I was not planning to tell them. Were you?"

"I don't think it needs to be in my report..."

"Bene." She stepped closer, resting her paw over his on the chair. "Now, Connor, you have dodged my question again. You are a very evasive wolf. Perhaps you are part coyote?"

His gaze dropped to her paw where it rested on his. "I have enjoyed the occasional short-term company."

She leaned closer. "With women, I hope."

He started and wheeled away from her to pace the room. "This is too much!" He stopped, fixing her with an exasperated glare. "Yes! With women. What is your purpose in asking this?"

She crossed her paws on the back of the chair and gave him a look he could only have described as patient. "Why do you think an unwed woman might ask an attractive gentleman about his preferences in the bedroom?"

His pacing came to an abrupt halt, as did his thoughts. "Ah. I-- Hm. I don't think this is what Mr. Harris had in mind when he described my role as escort."

"I think we have already established that not everything needs to go in your report." She left the chair to its towel and laid a paw on his arm. "Tell me, if roles and assignments were not at issue, would you be interested?"

He met her gaze. There really was no denying the answer. He ducked his muzzle and splayed his ears anyway. "Yes. Quite."

She leaned in and licked his lips. "Molto bene. You will leave this out of your reports, and I shall be sure not to use too much innuendo when I discuss your performance tonight with Mr. Harris." She patted his cheek. "Do not be so concerned. My reputation would almost be bettered if we are found out, but I shall be discreet for your sake."

He ducked his muzzle and splayed his ears. "You are too kind. So...where should we start?"

She gave one of his ears a rub and stepped away. "In my experience, nudity is an excellent start. You have done this before, have you not?" She waved a paw at him vaguely. "But you first. I would see all of the dashing young wolf who will be stealing away my, hmm, innocence? No. Taking advantage of me?" She grinned and licked her muzzle. "Yes, that's the phrase."

He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged; he was not one to complain about being ogled. He dropped the suspenders off his shoulders and tugged his shirt off, tossing it on the chair next to his coat. A smile spread across her muzzle. He ducked to remove his boots, then stood once more and popped the fly on first his pants, then his drawers. A quick push and they fell to the floor, leaving him naked before her.

She gestured, and he turned for her inspection. His sheath stirred as he felt her gaze, and by the time he faced her again, the pointed tip of his cock pushed through the opening of his sheath. She stepped in close to him again, and he groaned when her paw found his sheath and squeezed.

She growled softly and licked the edge of his ear. "That was very efficient, signor. Now, you have already shown me you speak my language. Let's see what else you can do with that tongue."

His ears folded back and he tipped his muzzle up, groaning softly. "Sì, signora." He sank to his knees and grinned up at her, tongue sweeping across his muzzle in anticipation and tease. His paws slid up the backs of her legs, fingers brushing through her fur as he nosed under her dress, following the curves of her thighs until they met.

In the darkness under her dress, her scent flooded his senses with that heady combination that was aroused wolf bitch. A small shudder ran through him and he drank it in, following his nose to press his muzzle directly against her sex. He was gratified when paws found his ears through the dress and tugged them towards her. He took the hint, slipping his tongue out and taking a long, slow draw across her entrance. He pulled his broad tongue across her soft-furred outer lips and the more delicate flesh of her inner lips.

He gripped the back of her thighs in his paws, his fingers splayed through her fur. Her pelt was shorter than his, and it brushed between his fingers more stiffly than his own would. He lapped at her again and thrilled at the way she pulled insistently at his ears and pressed her hips into his muzzle in response. The tip of his tongue found her clit on the next lick and he was rewarded with a gasp and a sharp buck of her hips. With each lick, he spent more and more time with her clit, until he was focused entirely on flickering his tongue tip over the sensitive flesh, stopping only to curl around it and squeeze.

She gripped his head around his ears, bunching the fabric of her dress as she ground her sex against his muzzle, and her natural lubrication soaked his chin fur with her scent. Even through the layers of petticoat, dress, and paws, he could hear her panting, and he could feel the tension in her thighs. She ground her crotch hard against his muzzle, and he could feel the shudder in her thighs and hips. He held himself still, savoring the feel of her sex against his mouth and the richness of her scent. His cock had been slipping steadily from his sheath since he'd gone under her dress, and by now, he was fully erect.

The pressure on his head reversed, her paws pushing him downwards as the tension went out of her body. He savored the curves of her legs as he ducked out from under her dress, resisting the urge to linger. He panted softly, tongue lolling from his muzzle as he looked up at her. "By God, I could do that all night."

She grinned and ducked down to cup his cheek and give a lingering, warm lick across his damp muzzle. "And another night, I would be happy to have you do so. But tonight, I have other plans." She stood again. "First, though, I must get out of this dress. I shall return shortly."

He sat back on his haunches, panting softly as he watched her slip out of his room. The assignment had turned out far better than he'd expected; discretion would be critical, but that had always been his rule about his private life. Fiammetta certainly seemed worth the effort to hide their affair, even as short-lived as it would be.

The whisper of her pads over the floor brought him back to the present. She was nude, and her short pelt revealed the curves of a bitch who wore her middle age well. Her breasts were modest and shifted slightly as she walked, while her middle bore a softness that spoke to a fondness for good food and which flowed into ample hips that swayed when she walked. She could have as easily stood among the classical sculptures he'd seen while posted in Europe as in the room before him, and he was glad it was the latter.

His teeth clacked audibly as he hauled his muzzle shut and stood.

She stepped up against him, cupping his cheek in a paw and licking the front of his muzzle. Her hips pressed against his, pinning his erection between them, their fur brushing the sensitive flesh. She grinned. "Am I to understand that you like what you see?"

He slid his paws over her hips and squeezed firmly, enjoying the layer of softness over the firmness of her muscles. He pulled her hips firmly against his, grinding his cock into her belly fur, and licked her lips. "Very much so."

She grinned. "Mmm, I thought so. You were very enthusiastic with your tongue."

"That is something I enjoy very much, but have very little opportunity to practice."

"A shame, but perhaps to my benefit. Had you more opportunity, I suspect you would not be available to me tonight." She stepped back and held up her paw, presenting a lambskin condom and a small bottle of oil. "You know what this is, yes?"

"More discretion."

She patted his cheek, then reached down to squeeze the base of his length. "Mmmhmm." She licked his lips, then lowered her muzzle to watch as she slipped the skin over his erection and tied it in place. She then drizzled oil along his shaft and cupped it in her paw, stroking slowly along it.

He panted softly, "You are quite good at that."

"It is an essential skill for a lady who wishes to enjoy the company of a gentleman, but not his pups." She slipped over to the bed and draped herself across the edge, her rump in the air and her tail curled tightly off to one side. She looked back over her shoulder at him. "Now, Connor, no dallying. Mount me and tie me." Her thighs drifted farther apart, as though he needed more encouragement.

He did not. Connor gripped her rump with one paw, admiring for a moment the mix of plush and tone she seemed to manage in all her curves. With his other paw, he guided his length, settling his point at her entrance, then pressing his hips forward. His cock slipped easily into her depths, her walls hot around him and deliciously slick. Gripping both of her rump cheeks, he ground firmly against her, savoring the sensation as she clenched around him, her walls gripping his length.

He slid his paws up to grip her hips, then drew back and thrust into her again. She panted softly and squeezed around his shaft, her walls dragging along it when he withdrew and seeming to knead when he thrust into her again. His ears folded back and he panted over her back as he settled into a steady rhythm of long, fast thrusts.

He felt his knot swelling -- the familiar bulge at the base of his cock caught at her entrance and pushed past her inner lips with each thrust, making a lewd, wet noise each time he withdrew. She buried her muzzle in the bed, muffling the short, sharp cries she gave with each thrust. He bent over her, his belly brushing along her back as he caught her scruff in his jaws, gripping the loose skin between his teeth. He growled as he thrust a few last times until his knot caught and tied him inside her. His next movement jerked her backwards on the bed when that knot refused to budge, and he bucked sharply forward against her rump as tension surged in his loins.

His whole body tensed: his jaws tightened on her scruff, blunt claw tips pressed into her hips, and hips ground hard against her rump. His climaxed surged through him, and he felt her walls gripping at him as he came inside her, cock throbbing within her sex, while he painted the interior of the condom. When the peak of his pleasure had passed, he slipped a paw down between her thighs and brushed the pad of a finger over her clit. She shuddered under him and bucked back sharply, walls gripping hard around his shaft.

He released her scruff and gave it a fond lick, then nosed up over her ears, snuffling through the soft, short fur as they waited for his knot to subside. His paws brushed up, playing through the plush of her belly, then drifting higher to cup her breasts and caress them. He lay atop her, panting softly, luxuriating in the glow and the feel of her body, and she reached back to rub one of his ears.

At length, he felt his knot slip when shifted atop her, and a slow, gentle pull had him slipping free. He left her with a fond rub of her rump and returned a moment later, his cock bare and subsiding, slipping back into his sheath.

She had rolled onto her back and now grinned down her body at him. "Major Wallace, I find your performance most satisfactory." Her paws wandered slowly over her belly and hips, caressing herself as she basked in her afterglow. "It is a shame, but we should keep to our own beds, lest the help think my sheets too little used."

She stood, and he stepped in to lick her muzzle. "Mmm. I suppose I'll sleep better alone. It is certainly more familiar." He ran his paws lightly along her sides, tracing the curves of her hips and ribs.

She licked his muzzle in return and patted his cheek. "Again, a shame. I shall see you in the morning, Connor." She took a step, then paused to take a lingering look over him. "Perhaps I can secure your services for the rest of my stay." With that, she turned and left for her room, hips and tail swaying in counterpoint.

He grinned after her, admiring the interplay of her curves and her movements. Sleeping with the principle wasn't strictly professional, and he was sure to catch hell from colonel if the old dog ever found out, but right then, he didn't much give a damn.

---

Indeed, Connor would not have described Colonel Tannerly as entirely pleased.

"Damnit, Major, your orders were simple! I told you to escort a woman to a dance and keep one man from giving her trouble." He threw up his paws. "At least you got half of it right. She's certainly happy with you. So happy, in fact, that she's requested you for the rest of her stay." He gestured to Harris, who was once again lounging in a chair to one side of the room. "Mr. Harris has already agreed to that, so it's a good thing Captain Morrison did such a damned good job, because I've just lost one of my officers for two weeks."

He shook his head and sighed. "With respect to the other half of your orders, you have failed spectacularly." Here he stabbed a finger pointedly at a paper on the desk. "You did not avoid confrontation with Juan Carlos Genial. No, instead, you saw fit to assault him and render him unconscious." He held up a paw when Connor opened his mouth. "I know. His letter says you knocked him out. She says that she did. I don't really care. I'm inclined to believe Ms. Buozzi, because her report certainly matches his behavior in the past. Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that you were specifically warned about him, I'd applaud you for doing a damned fine job."

Connor shut his muzzle and fixed his gaze out the window behind the colonel, and part of his mind appreciated the view of the White House it offered. The rest of him listened to Tannerly rant. It wasn't as though he could argue with the colonel -- assaulting noblemen was frowned upon when part of a diplomatic security detail. It occurred to him that he'd probably enjoy the job a lot more if it were.

Harris stood, heaving himself slowly out of his chair. He moved to stand by Tannerly's desk and looked at the paper the colonel handed him. "Major, I appreciate your diligence and enthusiasm last night. Signora Buozzi had quite the glowing review. Unfortunately, this business with Señor Genial has soured the experience. He's quite upset, and has demanded you be reprimanded thoroughly, perhaps even stripped of your commission." He shrugged. "The Austrians haven't complained to me, so I suspect they've largely written it off as a case of too much champagne and too little sense. It is, as we have discussed, consistent. However, in order to maintain our congenial relationship with the Austrian delegation, it is incumbent upon us to demonstration that we have taken corrective action."

He looked the paper over for a moment. "Your discipline is composed of three parts. I have here a formal reprimand. It is the first part." He handed it back to Colonel Tannerly. "It documents the situation fairly thoroughly, so anyone who bothers to read it should see that you did the right thing. I do not think it will damage your career in the long run, and at least we can say you've been warned."

Tannerly stood, holding another document. "The second part is less pleasant. This is your formal recommendation for full promotion to Major. I was planning to file it sometime next month. It would have been rather early, but with your brevet and your performance, I was willing to stand behind it." He shook his head, then folded the paper in half and tucked it into in a folder. "Perhaps I shall revisit the question in a year or two, at a more normal time."

Connor's stomach clenched. A year or more as a brevet major was almost worse than staying a captain. In fact, it was staying a captain, except for the title. It would certainly still pay like a captain, and a long-standing brevet in peace time would raise eyebrows to any commanding officer reviewing his file.

Harris sat, while Tannerly opened another folder and reviewed its contents. "Finally, Major, your new assignment. You'll have plenty of time to review it while you are working for Ms. Buozzi." He closed it sharply, then held it out, pausing until Connor had tucked it under his arm. "In short, you will be working directly for Mr. Harris, inspecting domestic manufacturing. This should keep you out of Washington for a while, which should reduce your opportunities to assault foreign dignitaries."

He looked to Harris. "Anything to add?"

Harris shook his head.

"Dismissed."

Fiammetta was waiting for him outside the office. She hooked her paw into his arm. "You are mine, I take it?"

He ducked his muzzle. "For the duration of your stay."

She gestured at the folder. "And that?"

"My next assignment. Inspecting the local factories."

"They wish to keep you out of town for a while, I take it?"

He nodded. "That they do."

"Then we shall have to be sure to make the most of the time. Come. Work first."

As they left, her arm tucked in his, he reflected that, while he might complain, he'd have plenty of time to do that later, and the assignment before him, or perhaps beside him, was most most pleasant, after all.