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"Good show, Markus."

"Thanks, Phil."

The big liger who is the manager of the club clapped the powerfully muscular fox on his shoulder, his other forepaw indicating me. "This is Tristan; I told you about him."

"Good to meet you, finally; thanks for being here." The golden fox proffered a paw, still panting from the exertion of his performance. I'd not seen him dance before tonight; pole dancing, although deliciously erotic, wasn't my usual line of country at all. He was very good at it, making the right combination of sexuality and skillful use of his exceptional musculature. I was a little overwhelmed by him, and I don't mean just by his fragrance. It was in no way offensive to me; I'm rather partial to the scent of honest sweat on an extremely sexy young male, and I did my best not to reveal it. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

"Very much so," I managed, smiling a bit awkwardly. The fox grinned at me, and I could see in a heartbeat that he was enjoying the effect that he was having on me. Strangely enough, when I saw that he liked it, my smile became more natural.

A raccoon perhaps a half-dozen centimeters shorter than the fox ran up to him with a robe, and the nearly-naked vulpine was sufficiently covered to bring his sexiness down from the godlike to the merely extraordinarily mortal.

"Thank you, love," he said turning to plant a quick kiss on the 'coon's lips. He turned back to me. "Micha, this is Tristan."

"The writer!" Micha exclaimed, eternally endearing me to him in a single stroke. He took my forepaw in both his own. "I've heard so much about you. I'm surprised that we haven't had a chance to meet before now. Thank you so much for coming. I'm glad you could be here."

The fox seemed to blush a little, which made me curious. "I'm just glad there won't be too many people here to see how bad it's going to be."

For a moment, I thought the 'coon was going to give the vulpine a sharp rebuke. Instead, he placed a forepaw tenderly to his arm and said, "It's for family, my lovely. Come on, let's get you ready. We've got some time before the bar closes."

"Hey, kid, you're shedding." Phil chuckled and picked up the bills that had fallen out of the fox's already well-filled thong. Markus thanked him, stuffing the bills into the pockets of the robe, then turned as Micha took him by the forepaw and all but dragged him back toward the back rooms of the bar where, I presumed, waited the dancer's dressing room. The liger chuckled softly at the sight, then put a forepaw to my shoulder. "Come on; I know you don't drink, but I can find you something. The place will start clearing out soon. We can talk while Markus gets himself together."

I took a stool at the end of the bar, noticing that the crowd had already diminished somewhat. On a Saturday night, the place was generally packed, as all the dancers were usually performing their best routines. Even Markus had three shows, his last one topping off the evening (if you'll pardon the expression). Considering how much the fox raked in, it was amazing that any of the other dancers got much at all in tips. Still, no one ever went hungry at Phil's place. I'd known the liger for some time now, and although I wasn't exactly a regular at the strip club, he and I often met to talk about our lives, and for Phil, the club was his life, for many reasons.

"I can't control their lives," he told me once. "But I can at least offer them a safe place to do what they do, and they get good tips from it. The bar brings in enough for me to keep the whole place going. Those who live here are family, to me and to each other. I know what goes on; it's part of the reality of places like this, and yes, it helps to keep us all going. Truth is, I'd really rather no one had to make a living that way. It's not a moral thing; I have no problem with consenting adults. It's just that I know what sort of wear it can do to your heart. If you feel like you have no other choice, it's a killer. And it's why we stay together - to keep each other safe.Mora."

Although I never asked, I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. I'm not the world's greatest detective, but I'm able to piece together the clues that are offered me. Phil was younger than me by a dozen years, and he was still one sexy hunk of feline; his short, chocolate-hued mane framed the facial features of his lion father, his powdery striping favored his tiger mother, and his overall size and strength was enough to further intimidate any customer who had mayhem on his mind. Despite his physical perfection, he always had a certain sense about him that he'd lost something over time. In some ways, he gave me the feeling that he'd lost something of his soul in those terrible early years, and he never quite got it back. Hopeless romantic that I am, I had often wished that I could somehow help him to find it, but we never gave each other the chance. I'm still his friend, and I make myself available to him to listen... or, in this case, to spend some time to share with him, although I still wasn't entirely sure what.

I took a sip from my large mug of cocoa, grateful that he'd had some mix behind the bar for me to enjoy. "Those two have a story."

Phil nodded, preparing a few "last call" drinks. "A very important one, as I think you'll see."

"You know I love it when you're all mysterious," I chuckled softly. "Tell me about them."

"Markus came here about seven years ago, barely out of his kithood, comparatively speaking. He knew enough about his comparative rarity as a golden fox to have made a few bucks out of it, the hard way." The liger eyed me. "No puns."

"Never about that." I sampled the cocoa again. "Looks like he survived it."

"With those looks? High-dollar clients. The funny part is that he looks even better now than he did then, but even at the time, I saw he could probably make some good tips. I also figured he'd still be bait for the high-rollers, so I did what I could to give him options that didn't require that sort of thing. He was a little naïve, but not nearly so bad as he could have been. He wasn't so much lacking brains as much as self-confidence."

"Are you kidding me? What would a stud like that lack in self-confidence?"

"His soul. He hadn't found it yet."

I felt my ears splay, as damned well they should. I lost my voice, looking down into my mug of cocoa and feeling more than a little stupid. After a moment, I felt Phil's forepaw on my shoulder, gently.

"You okay, pup?"

"Just embarrassed."

"No need. You took a while to find your soul too, and you had more than a few handicaps along the way."

"No excuse for being rude. I'll make my apologies and just let you go on."

He squeezed my shoulder and went back to cleaning the glasses that had already been returned from the night's business. "Markus was lucky, in that he never had to be a street rat. He came to me because he'd heard about the dancing, thought he could just shake what he had and make money from it. I told him the facts, gave him a shot, and he almost quit after only a week. What he lacked in dancing ability he made up for in being just plain young and beautiful, but it didn't pay off as well as he thought it would. He was going to go back to what he knew. You know who convinced him not to? Theo."

I thought that an odd choice, in that Theo would have been still in his mid-teens at that time. He was taken in as part of the family, the_mora_ to use the old Romany word. The young tabby was put on the street when his parents discovered he was gay. Nothing like religion to make a fur's life wretched. The kit was too much an innocent to know how to stay alive on the street, and the shelter could only keep him for so long before someone would have to put him into the Child Protective Services system. One of Phil's family found him, brought him to see the warm-hearted liger. The_mora_ who make up this strange but deeply bonded family took the kit in. Theo was never once "farmed out" in any way. He helped keep the place clean, did laundry, talked, learned, and was kept safe from the clientele as he learned the ways of this particular world. When he reached the age where he could decide for himself, he was able to make an informed decision. He found a very few occasions to ply the oldest trade with the gentlest of males - usually older, who wanted the affectionate cuddle more than mere sex. Theo, even from his youngest years, knew the importance of affection.

"What did Theo know about the fox that Markus didn't?" I asked.

"In a word: Charm." Phil smiled. "The fox and the kitten formed an tender bond. I found out much later that Theo broke the rules that applied to him at the time: He offered Markus his bed, if only Markus wouldn't leave. The fox found part of himself that night, because he held the kit all night long but never even tried anything else. They talked, Markus told me (much later), and although Theo didn't really have all the right words to explain it fully, he got the idea across. The fox began watching the other dancers, starting to see what it was that made their dancing work. A little at a time, he started to find his own brand of charm."

"He certainly has it now. Although I'm not sure if 'charm' is quite the word you're looking for."

"The writer at work." Phil grinned all the way to his whiskers, his forepaws still working on glasses. "What would you call it?"

"Being adorable, in its literal sense - capable, worthy of being adored. He learned how to love the attention instead of just expecting it."

"Egad, Holmes!" the liger mock-exclaimed. "However did you twig to that?"

"Elementary, dear Watson." I smiled, taking up the challenge. "Scratch an exotic dancer, and you'll find someone who craves the attention, the willing adoration, expressed by the hungry looks as much as the money placed into thongs and g-strings. Poor dancers simply take it as their due, and their smiles become sneers, their movements become obscenity rather than erotica, and although they may make a few dollars from the desperate and the perverse, they are no less whoring themselves than the cheapest of prostitutes who couldn't care less for their clients.

"To be erotic, one must appreciate as much as one craves. There has to be genuine thanks in the eyes. Yes, they are adored, and they crave that adoration, but they must be grateful to get it, or else the gyrations turn into nothing but raw sexuality. Anyone can display their junk, actually or metaphorically; it's gratitude that turns the concealment from rude denial to a gentle tease. That 'charm,' as you put it, is the_divin oblige_of being grateful to those who worship them."

The liger regarded me for a long moment. "I hadn't thought of it quite that way."

"It's what our young tabby provided that turned Markus' heart. Theo offered his affection and his worship in its most simple form: He needed the fox. And Markus was smart enough to realize it."

Phil nodded slowly. "I think you've hit upon it exactly. I know that's what happened to Micha."

"Smitten?"

"As if run over by a bulldozer." He began stacking glasses underneath the bar. "I have no idea how he found his way here, but from that first night, he was mesmerized." He grinned again. "Fancy word for a barback, huh?"

"When was this?"

"About three years ago. He started showing up every night that Markus danced. By this time, our fox was very much part of the family; he was the one who started up the fund for the gym equipment downstairs, and ultimately, he contributed more than half of it himself. He'd started buffing himself up, almost beyond all imagining. He took an even greater interest in his appearance, his 'brand,' so to speak. That long mane of spun corn-yellow headfur? That's partly due to Micha."

"How did that happen?"

"Because," said a new voice, "he loves taking care of it."

I turned, grinning widely as the slender, well-formed tabby cat stepped into my embrace for a hug and a kiss. "Hello, sweetfur," I chuckled at him.

"I'm glad you're here, Tristan," Theo said, nuzzling my muzzle a bit. "Tonight's for family, and you belong to us too."

"A loyal hanger-on," I teased as the kit took a seat next to me. The bar had almost cleared out by now, and I saw some of the staff starting to clean up tables. "What did you mean by that comment? Micha loves taking care of Markus' headfur?"

"Micha loves Markus, and he takes care of him," Theo explained. "You were backstage when Markus finished his dance, right? You must have seen Micha bring him his robe. That's not just simple terry-cloth; finest pure cotton velour, to keep his body heat in longer. Cooling down too fast is bad for the muscles."

"Makes sense, I would think. Intuition."

"More than that. Micha took training in therapeutic and rehabilitative massage as well as general physical therapy. He helps us all out, dancers and otherwise, although Markus takes top priority. If anyone was ever pampered, it's Markus." The cat grinned. "Yeah, I'm a little envious."

"How did they finally meet?"

"You could guess, although you'd only be half right." Phil set his last glass down, put aside his cloth, and leaned his strong arms on the bar. "As I said before, all such places as this have their particular reputation. Micha figured that out, and he made a reasonably subtle inquiry about Markus. Truth is, our fox is quite particular about anyone coming back to see him, for any reason. Micha bought time - just time - and Markus agreed. I have no idea exactly what happened that night..."

"None of us does," Theo said softly. "I've got my suspicions, though." He paused, then looked at me. "Did you know that it was Markus who helped me get my GED?"

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." I winked at Phil.

"You blabbed." The cat offered the liger a perfectly good raspberry.

"It was part of the story," the barback grinned.

"It was the way that Markus treated you that tells me the rest," I said. "Micha didn't pay for sex, did he?"

"No one pays for sex here, good fur," Phil intoned. "That would be unlawful."

"Silly of me to forget that; do accept my apologies." I grinned, sipping at my cocoa. "That's a part of the story that's already been written, in a way; you'll find it in a play called_M. Butterfly._What I would find most interesting is the specifics of what they talked about, as I suspect that they didn't just sit in silence for an hour at a time. Can you tell me what happened next? I'm willing to bet it was a date."

"Got it in one." Phil nodded. "That's one thing I know for a fact, because Markus asked my advice about it. He was worried that he was 'getting involved with a client.' When he confirmed for me that Micha had never asked for sex from him during the previous meetings, I told him that it sounded to me as though he might at least get a good dinner and some conversation out of the meeting, which beats just hanging about in a back room here." He looked over to the large grizzly bear who served as bouncer and general enforcer for the club. The ursine nodded and started locking up the place; the last of the strangers had left, and it was time for us to get ready for whatever it was that Markus had planned for us.

"I can only guess that it was a good first date."

"We got to meet Micha less than a month after that," Theo offered. "You don't take just everyone home to meet the family. I hope that we didn't grill him too much," he chuckled. "We're very protective."

"You liked him?"

"Right from the start. He's about six years older than Markus, but that wasn't an issue. Neither was anything else about him, truth told. He told us about his work - mostly freelance stuff, computer repair, troubleshooting, some website building and hosting - and he told us of his family, his background, all kinds of things about his life. That wasn't the important part."

"What was?"

"The way they looked at each other."

"What was it you said earlier?" Phil asked. "Something about someone who is adored needed to be grateful to the one who is adoring him?"

"That sounds right," Theo nodded, then blushed. "I don't want to say too much, but... you're family, Tristan, so maybe you need to know. Markus never took another backstage caller from that day to this. With kind, non-creepy sort of fans, he'd sometimes meet them out here for a last-call drink, but he's never invited them backstage."

"He still dances," I observed. "And he still loves his audience. But his deepest love is reserved for Micha."

The liger smiled. "More than you know."

"And less than I'll tell."

"No, that's okay... we want you to."

I turned to see Micha joining us at the bar. The rest of the_mora_ were gathering closer to the stage. I found myself blushing a little. "I'm not here to tell tales out of school."

"No." The raccoon smiled at me and chose a barstool to my other side. "You're here to tell more about what love looks like. From what I've read of your work, that's what you do best."

"I try." I put my forepaw out to him again, and he took it firmly. "I promise to tell your story faithfully."

"How may I help?"

"Tell me what we're here for, for one thing. What is this about?"

"It's about believing," Micha said softly, his eyes twinkling. "You know that Markus helped Theo get his GED?" When I nodded, he continued. "It's like that. Family isn't always about who you're born with or raised by. The Fourth Commandment - or Fifth, if you're Reformationist - is wrong. It should not be 'Honor thy father and thy mother,' especially if they are missing or abusive. It should read, 'Honor those who nurture your growth.' That's what real family does."

"You speak like a teacher," I said, "a rabbi, perhaps."

"Blood tells," the raccoon chuckled. "Philosophy is one of my many studies, whether Talmud, Bible, Q' ran, or otherwise. I pass along what I find. And, like Markus - like all of us here, I think - I try to nurture the best of everyone. That's what this is about, Tristan."

Theo stepped behind the bar for a moment, as I noticed the lights dimming around me, and a single spotlight hit the stage. Into that space stepped the lithe vixen known to all as Foxfire. She paused, smiling, looking around at the assembled family.

"Thank you, everyone. Markus and Micha asked me to introduce this moment for them. Not many know that Sir Anthony Hopkins is not only an accomplished actor but also a composer. Please allow me to present our beloved golden fox, Markus, with his interpretive dance to Hopkins' music, 'And the Waltz Goes On.'"

The spotlight faded slowly as she stepped off the stage, and we all waited in near breathless silence as the whispers of vulpine pawpads came onto the stage. We had the sense of waiting, anticipating, and then the spot slowly rose with the first few notes of the waltz. Markus stood in tableau, clad only in clingy but otherwise modest Spandex shorts of deep cabernet red. His golden fur had been freshened and brushed to a gleaming shine, and his flowing spun corn-yellow headfur, hanging down almost to his tail, had been tied back with six cascading ribbons - yellow, brown, blue, red, green, and lilac. He stood with his upstage hindpaw pressed up against the dancing pole, his head hanging low, eyes closed.

With the slow beginnings of the waltz, the fox leaned back against the pole, wrapping an arm around it, swinging himself around in a long slow arc, matching the pace of the violins that took up the main theme of the waltz. He flowed languidly to the three-quarter-time rhythm, his arms and tail expressing a complex weaving of movements, until the pace picked up and he broke into a quickstep that curved around the central pole in a wide circle. As the music swelled yet again, he moved with even more energy and expression, following the complex ten-measure bar without missing a step. In the passages where the music broke for a beat, he rose in the air to land perfectly on the pick-up, and as the music slowed back to its original pace, he was back at the pole, again sweeping around in a single revolution to arrive at the place he began.

In the lento passage, he performed a pas de deux with his unmoving metal partner, and it struck me suddenly: He had turned the pole-dancing into a balletic idiom of control and passion, feeling the music and letting it guide even as he led the way to his own emotional expression. At the opening of the extended bridge of the piece, he pressed himself against the pole, leaning backward until his long tresses touched the floor, then back again, performing a series of spins, turns, fuetes, all centered around the pole as both anchor and partner. When the main theme came back again, he repeated his wide promenade around the central point of the stage, until finally, at the climactic moment, he stood digitigrade, his downstage leg and body pressed up against the pole, his forepaws reaching up to hold it as high as he could, his upstage leg wrapped around, his hindpaw touching his knee, holding as the final notes of the solo violin held until he fell with the last notes, wrapping his body around the pole as if collapsing against his lover, head down, spent.

The entire room was on its hindpaws in a flash, I among them, applauding and whooping for all we were worth. It was a tour de force of elegance and eroticism that I'd never even seen hinted at before. I felt tears on my cheeks as the great golden fox stood slowly and took his bows, and still we did not stop our applause. The smile on Markus' muzzle stretched from ear to ear, as he spread his arms wide to encompass and thank us. The houselights rose, and he peered across the length of the barroom and pointed to his lover, motioning him to come up to the stage. Micha hopped off of the barstool and ran to him, jumping into his embrace and holding him tightly as we only increased our applause for them both. The fox kissed his lover warmly, held him close again, and continued to grin in gratitude and appreciation. Micha stretched up to whisper something into Markus' ear, and the fox released him, chuckling. In only a few seconds, the raccoon returned and helped the dancer into his robe as we all laughed affectionately and cheered even harder.

It took a good minute or more for the applause to die down, and the family began to approach the stage to congratulate Markus properly with hugs, kisses, exclamations of delight and approval. I fell back onto the barstool as Phil clapped me on the shoulder and presented me with a fresh cup of hot cocoa. "Worth staying up for?"

"The way I feel, I may not sleep for a week!" I had a thousand questions, but I waited for the rest of the family to finish their congratulations. After a while, Micha and Markus made their way back to the bar and presented themselves to me, Theo, and Phil. I rose and applauded yet again as Theo hugged him fiercely. The fox actually seemed to blush a little. I put out my forepaw to him, and when he went to shake it, I instead took in properly in my own and brushed my lips very gently across his knuckles before taking it in both of my own forepaws. "Bravo," I said looking him in the eye. "Bravisimo!"

He moved in to hug me tightly, his forehead to my shoulder as I gripped him close. "Thank you," he said. His voice trembled just the slightest bit. "Thank you, Tristan."

After he released me, he stood with his arm around his lover's shoulder, Micha's arm around his waist. I sat on the barstool again. "Markus, I have seen some of the best ballet companies in the world, both live and on video. I have seen a reproduction of the original Nijinski choreography of Stravinski's_Rite of Spring_ from nearly a hundred years ago. I have never seen anything as passionately sensual as this dance tonight. How did you design it? What inspired you, apart from the music, I assume?"

The fox leaned down and kissed the top of his lover's head. "Right here."

"No," Micha countered softly, placing a forepaw to the fox's chest. "Right here."

"I'd never even have thought of it without Micha," Markus said, squeezing the 'coon gently. "He started me thinking about expanding my dancing style, showing me some bits of various ballets." He chuckled softly, ears splayed slightly. "I thought it was pretty highbrow, tell ya the truth. I didn't really get it."

"Yeah, you did. You just didn't think you could."

"But you did," Theo said to Micha.

"I was certain of it, right from the start. It was a passion. A different kind of passion than he knew how to express at first, but passion." He looked up into the fox's face with undisguised adoration in his eyes. "I knew it was there. I've always known."

The fox smiled softly. "Of course, he's got a bit of a crush on me."

"Goes both ways, I bet," I grinned.

"Yeah," the fox almost whispered. "Yeah, it does. That's what surprised me. And that's why we wanted to make sure you were here tonight. Also because you're family, but you're the writer in the family. You're the one who can tell this story."

"A story about...?" I prompted.

"About believing," Theo answered.

"About becoming," Phil offered.

"About nurturing," Micha added.

"About loving, and being loved." Markus leaned down to kiss his lover again, then looked back to me. "I would never even have imagined trying something like this, years ago. I wasn't even much of an exotic dancer to start with." He smiled at the tabby. "And then a little kitten told me what I needed."

Theo grinned. "I just got you to stick around to find out."

"And Phil gave me a chance."

The liger nodded, smiling. "Seemed like a good bet to me."

"And then along comes this guy..." He squeezed the 'coon close again, looked back at me. "I'd been skating along on just looks - sounds vain, sorry - never even thought of classes, or learning, or even trying something different. But I can't deny Micha anything."

"Whither next, young todd?" I asked him. "If this dance is anything to go by, you have a lot more in you to explore."

He looked a little uncertain, which I found surprising. Apparently, he still hadn't as much self-esteem as I'd credited him for. "I'm not even sure I could reproduce that again," he murmured.

"Of course you can," Phil said enthusiastically. "Especially if you review it a few times."

The fox blinked. "What?"

"I didn't stop with my GED, you know, and it's all your fault." The tabby grinned in such a way that I was immediately certain that he had an Uncle Cheshie somewhere. He bobbed his head toward the back of the bar. "Micha helped me set it up. It's not likely to be a perfect recording, what with only one camera angle, but at least it's preserved."

Phil moved aside to reveal a very nice camera on a tripod, set up behind the bar, with wires hooking it directly into laptop. "Even caught all the applause," he smiled.

"Audition tapes don't have to be perfect."

"Audition?" The fox's eyes seemed particularly large. "As in...?"

"As in not right away, love," Micha said softly. "But it's preserved, for the family, and perhaps for the future." The 'coon pressed his cheek against his lover's side. "There's always the future. That's what you keep me around for."

"Not the only thing," Markus said, leaning down for another kiss. "Thank you. Thanks to all of you."

In the moment of silence afterward, Micha clapped his paws together and addressed his lover directly. "Enough cool-down; you need a massage, to make sure the circulation to your muscles is up to par. Come on, then..."

The 'coon all but dragged the not-at-all complaining fox from our company and led him to the back rooms. I had to chuckle. "I should be forced to obey such agreeable orders!"

"Never too late," Theo smiled at me. "I'm not sure I'm as good as Micha, but at least my dance card is empty."

I had to groan at the pun. "You're far too young to know about dance cards!"

"But old enough to know when someone needs a cuddle." The tabby looked at me with amazing candor. "One of us does, anyway."

Wrapping my arms around him, I gave the slender feline a kiss to his forehead. "It would be churlish of me to decline." I offered a paw to Phil. "You need help with any of this?"

"I've got it, Tristan." He smiled at the tabby and me. "Go have a proper cuddle. I've got my lioness waiting for me."

I smiled softly and walked to the back rooms with Theo. I had the feeling that it wasn't a night for any of us to be alone. In his room, Theo looked at me shyly, like the teen kit he once was. We would spoon together, he and I, as we'd done before on much lonelier nights than this. First, however, I bowed, and stepped up to him, placing one forepaw on his hip, and one on his shoulder, and he returned the gesture. Slowly, in small steps, we danced a bit of a waltz there in his room, just a few hummed measures, as we let the night, magical with the possibilities of the future, settle in around us...