AUTHOR'S NOTE -- (( Yeah, I'm considering this non-yiff, because ... though there's sexual ... things ... mm ... *smiles and giggles* ... I don't really elaborate on it. In the writing. Like, I don't show all the motions. It's not really in the foreground. It's ... it's not really a paw-off story. So, I thought it would be better served in the non-yiff category ... even though fewer furs will read it, as a result. *Smiles.* And, yes, I'm the mouse, and it is a true story. =^.^= ))



The mouse was shaking. Almost literally shaking. And the nervousness which betook him ... was paralyzing.

He sat. He scribbled.

He doodled in a little notebook. He drew cars.

Tomorrow was the Brickyard.

And the minutes went. And he didn't have a watch, and he ... drew. Waiting. Pulsing. Feeling liable to get sick.

A book discussion group was on the other end of the café ...

(He was in Barnes and Noble. The bookstore.)

... yammering about some ... such. Such and such. He wasn't really paying attention.

He was too on edge, and ...

... the lion came into view.

And Field bit his lip and looked up. And, quivering, whispered, "Hi."

The lion nodded. "Hey."

Field's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't sure what to say next. (Say something, say something, say ... )

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Um ... um ... " (Breathe. Breathe!) "There are some restaurants and, uh, stuff ... just ... just across the way. I was ... I thought we could eat at Steak and Shake or something, if ... if you wanted to ... mean. I mean ... if ... "

"Okay."

The mouse let out a breath. Nodded. Swallowed.

"Are you gonna drive, or am I?"

"Um ... you," stammered Field.

The lion gave him a little smile.

The mouse smiled shyly back, pocketing the little notebook (and the pen), and holding his twitching tail in his paws. His nose and whiskers were going wild. His ears swivelled at the slightest sounds.

They left the bookstore and got in the lion's car.

"Excuse the mess ... left some stuff in here. From the move." The lion having recently moved here from Florida.

Field nodded. "It's okay," he said quietly. Wispily.

"It's a good thing you talked to me this morning. Else, we would've missed each other."

"Yeah," agreed Field, his heart still hammering in his chest. Hammer-hammer. "Yeah, it's ... I was thinking about ... there's this bookstore in Carmel, and it's ... but this is Westfield, so ... "

"Yeah ... is it on the left or the right?"

"The ... "

" ... Steak and Shake."

"Um ... um ... left. Yeah. It's ... on the left," said Field, as they left the parking lot. And had to wait at a red light. And then as they crossed the intersection and went into another shopping complex. With lots of restaurants and stores. A grocery.

They got to the Steak and Shake. And they got out of the car.

"You okay?" Fuzzy asked.

Field nodded. "I'm just ... I'm really shy. I'm really ... really anxious, and I ... I have a lot of nervous twitches. I'm ... yeah."

"You can calm down," the lion instructed. "I don't bite."

A nervous giggle. "I know ... I just ... it's the way I am. I just ... I'm fine."

"You sure?"

An exhale and a nod, and they were inside the restaurant.

They were seated at a booth. The lion liked booths better. They were more intimate, he claimed.

Field agreed.

"So, what do you normally get here?" Fuzzy asked.

"Uh ... well, just ... sandwich, fries. A shake. Vanilla. I know that's ... that's boring," the mouse stuttered, "but ... I don't know. I like vanilla."

A nod. The lion's eyes perusing the menu.

Field gripped his own tail. Squeezing it.

"You're gonna turn the tip ... all white. Cut off the blood."

"What?" Wide-eyed.

"You're choking your tail."

"Mm?" The mouse looked to his paws. "Oh. Oh," he said, and he let it go, and ... the gentle pink, the carnation pink of his bare, silky tail ... returned to the tip. "I'm ... sorry."

"It's okay. Just calm down."

A nod.

The lion looked around. "A lot of furs around."

"It's cause of the race. It's always like this ... when there's a race," said Field.

"I don't know much about racing."

"Well ... I mean, I can ... teach you. I can ... watch the race tomorrow, if you want me to ... "

"Well, only if you want to." Pause. "Are you sure you're okay?"

A nod. A nod. A feverish nod. "Yes," was the whisper. "I just ... I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay." The lion looked slightly amused. As if, perhaps, he thought the shyness was horribly cute.

The mouse breathed. Breathed, and he took a dainty sip of water. Using both paws to pick up the glass. And then he set it back down. And then picked it up again. Took another sip. And then put it back down. Was going to pick it up again (to take another sip), but the waiter came.

Field ordered his usual.

Fuzzy ordered some kind of chicken salad.

Field clutched at his silverware.

"Well, no matter how crowded it is here, it's still ... not worse than it was in Tampa."

"No?" The mouse looked up.

A shake of the head. "It's better here. Furs are friendlier."

Field smiled shyly. Dimples showing on furry cheeks. And he let out another breath, still so nervous, still so shy ... and scrambling to say something. Anything. Saying, "Do they have Steak and Shakes in Florida?"

"Yes, actually ... "

"Really?"

A nod.

"Mm." The mouse's whiskers twitched. His nose sniffed and sniffed. Unable to help itself.

The lion smiled.

Field was clutching at his tail again. Apologizing. "I'm sorry ... I'm ... sorry ... "

"No, it's ... are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just ... yes. I just ... I never meet other furs. I never ... meet anyone."

"It's alright."

Field sighed. Swallowed. Nodded.

When their food came, they ate. Field eating in little bites. Eating his grilled cheese in little bites, and not eating any of the corners. And not finishing his shake. And nibbling, nibbling on the fries.

The lion watched him eat.

Field blushed, offering, "I'm ... such a mouse, I know," he said. Shrugging. Smiling shyly.

A chuckle.

Field breathed deeply through the nose.

"So, what do you want to do when we're done here?"

"Well, there's ... there's an ice cream place ... down that way, and ... movies ... but ... I got work later, and I ... takes too much time, and plus, why get ice cream when we're having it here, and ... I don't ... I don't know. There's ... lots of places, but ... I ... I don't really want to go anywhere."

"Mm ... "

Quiet. Eating.

"Well, I could show you my place. That way you'll know how to get there for tomorrow."

The mouse nodded quietly. Sipping his shake. "Alright ... "

"That okay?"

"Yes," he said, biting on the straw. Chewing on his straw.

So, when they were done, Fuzzy drove them to his apartment. It was a nice, little place. Small. Cozy. Like a mouse's den. Not as small as the mouse's room at home, but ... of a mouse-like nature.

Field sat on the couch.

Fuzzy sat next to him, handing him the remote. Saying, "I have digital cable, so ... I get lots of channels. You can find what you wanna watch."

"Thank you," the mouse whispered.

The lion smiled.

Field flipped through the channels. "Um ... I have satellite at home, so I don't ... the channel numbers are different." He perused the list. Eventually found the Speed Channel, and he ... settled on that. Some race. Somewhere. A street course race ... with open-wheel cars. But more of a junior-league thing. Not a fully professional series.

Fuzzy drew a finger of a paw ... and poked the mouse oh-so-delicately in the side.

Field made a little squeaking noise.

Fuzzy chuckled quietly. And poked again.

Field squeaked again. Pulsing. And ... blushing.

"You alright?" Fuzzy whispered.

Field let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. "Yes," he whispered, and he slowly ... leaned to his left. Leaned his head on the lion's shoulder. And closed his eyes.

The lion wrapped and arm and paw slowly around the mouse. And drew him close.

Field wanted to cry. Wanted to quiver. His heart was leaping. Nobody had ever touched him in such a loving way. Or had even wanted to. And it felt ... purely tangible. It nearly overloaded him.

"You alright," Fuzzy whispered again.

A quiet, quiet nod. The mouse apologizing (again) for being so twitchy.

"It's alright ... " The lion made shushing sounds.

The race was going on the TV.

Field breathed, breathed ... the warmth of him. The scent of him. And tried to relax. Relax.

As the lion pulled him closer ...

... and as Field snuggled into him. Buried into his sides and chest. Breathing. Calming.

Snuggling.

They snuggled, and they ... hugged, and ...

"Here," whispered the lion, shifting about, and he ... tossed the back cushions of the couch aside. "Lay down," he gently instructed, and ...

... the mouse did. Wriggling, squirming to a lay-down.

And they laid.

And breathed.

And the lion's paw went up and down the mouse's arm. Up and down.

Field quietly, timidly ... squirmed out of his shirt. Which fell to the carpet of the floor.

And the lion's paws continued to caress. To stroke. To rove. And the mouse's tail jerked this way ... and that ... before slowing, going limp, and simply ... falling. Trailing off the couch. While his ears flushed. And his breathing slowed, and his breaths became ... larger, but slower, and ...

... he clung to the lion. Clung to his warmth and strength and kindness.

And Fuzzy held him.

And the mouse gave a little squeak.

"I guess you don't want me down there," whispered the lion, apologetic. As if afraid he was upsetting the already nervous mouse. For the lion's paw ... had slipped below the mouse's waist. During the course of its rubbing, working itself beneath the mouse's clothes.

"I don't ... I don't ... mind. It's okay," the mouse insisted.

"You sure?"

A nod. "It's alright," he whispered, and he breathed deeply ... and let it out.

And the lion continued to rub ...

... until the mouse quietly wriggled out of the rest of his clothing, and he lay with the lion, whose paws administered their massaging warmth across his fur and form.

The mouse breathed. Breathed. Squeaked softly.

He could hear the sounds of the race. But couldn't really comprehend them. He was ... in a haze.

The lion guided the mouse's own paw to the mouse's mouse-hood ... and Field began to paw himself, slowly, as the lion hugged him ...

... paw, paw ...

... stroke ... hug ...

"Can you reach that towel ... over on the floor there?"

"Mm?" The mouse opened his shy eyes.

The lion nodded to the towel. "I don't ... wanna mess on the couch."

"Oh." Field blushed, nodded, and ... reached for the towel, and then gave it over, and then leaned back, and resumed, and ...

... upon completion, he shook a bit. From the sensation. From having let his guard down for the first time in his life. For the warmth. And he looked to the lion, and he smiled, and ...

... Fuzzy leaned forward.

Field, understanding, quietly pressed his lips to the lion's, and ... had his first kiss.

Soft and sweet.

"Shower?" the lion suggested.

The mouse nodded. "Yeah ... we better," was all he could say, and ... they got off the couch, and ...

... into the shower, where the water was warm and it rained on their bare fur. Where it soaked them as they soaped each other. As they hugged.

As the mouse struggled to be sure this was actually happening.

And when they were done, and when they were dry, the lion whispered into the mouse's ear, "Mates?"

Field nodded quietly. Smiling so widely. "Mates," he whispered back. Biting his lip (for his smile was so big). And he was still nervous, and still shaking, but ... he would get over that. In time, he would ... calm. He would loosen.

But, today, his world was electric, and ... his mousey motions were all a-twitch. And ...

... the lion drove him back to the bookstore. Where the mouse's car was. And let him off, saying that he would see him tomorrow.

The mouse would watch the big race at the lion's house. They would have pizza for lunch. Field would watch the Brickyard with his new mate.

And the mouse drove on to work, and ... during his work break, alone in the break room, nearly got sick from ... the overwhelming emotion he now felt.

And when he got home, he could barely sleep.

All he could think about was Fuzzy. And tomorrow. And what the future would bring.