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"description": "The street was busy at the Mö. The two hours past midday saw the already buzzing pedestrian area in the inner district of Hamburg packed with masses of writhing bodies trying to get by, barely avoiding bumping and shoving into one another and leaving little room to take a breather. The benches surrounding the fountain in the middle of the plaza turned into small islands of refuge, dotted with people who sat down to consume whatever it was they picked up on the many street-facing establishments offering meals and drinks. It all looked so much more interesting than where they were going. The Goat stared at the scene, with as much a longing gaze as she allowed herself to. Enough to express herself to herself, not enough for him to notice.\n\nSable’s hooves moved in tact with the feet of the Wolf walking next to her, each step creating a little, irritating metallic sound, originating from the shoes she had been made to wear that day. She had been made to wear a lot for this occasion but between the charcoal blazer with and the matching corded-stripe top and skirt combo, she hated the shoes the most. They were thin but weighty, throwing off her meticulously trained balance, their sounds ringing in her ears even through the background noise of the pedestrians as she simply could not help but focus on it. At least they weren’t permanent like a horseshoe, instead relying on the grip of magnets the tailor had glued in holes drilled into the base of her hooves. Why a Goat needed shoes like this eluded her to this day. She had hooves, what difference did it make, she took good care of them did she not?\n\nClack, clack, clack\n\nShe hated the noise. She hated the blazer and the skirt, even if they were hidden underneath her Trench coat. It was a vintage Burberry the Wolf had given her on her 16th birthday and marked the only article of clothing she truly was comfortable wearing. Utilitarian, which made sense given the origin and the large pockets were nice to stuff her hands into and hide her disgruntled fists which were equally trapped inside gloves matching the sea green paint on her hooves. Everything about her appearance was bothering her today, a mood only exacerbated by having to come here with the Wolf to begin with.\n\nLooking up at him as they walked, she followed his eyes moving behind the glasses on his snout, pupils rushing to spy on the people walking by and she could see him mentally picking targets as they walked. His ears perked when they passed the benches, the crowd of students frequenting the area being of highest interest. She never understood why he would bother. Following his eyes, her gaze landed on three girls chatting with Starbucks cups in their hands, dressed in crop-tops and tight sweatpants, legs slung over one another and laughing. All three of them dogs, two of them purebreds, one a mutt. Sable felt the disdain flare up in the back of her head, already putting down a list of shortcomings she could spot on the three, just in case the Wolf would comment on any of them.\n\nHe remained silent, slowing his steps, which saw the Goat releasing a somewhat muffled sound of disapproval, finally prompting the Wolf to speak as he outright stopped. \n\n“Easy there. We are still perfectly within the margins of the time-table, if I am not mistaking?”\n\n“Yes, we are.”\n\nSable’s pupils diluted for a moment and she stopped in her tracks before she caught his hand movements in the corner of her eyes. The split-second of shock over him having taken note of her annoyed demeanor was quickly washed away, when she watched the gloved hand disappear inside the Bijang herringbone overcoat to retrieve an Etui. The silver Fabergé clamshell opened to reveal a set of black-papered cigarettes with one of them making its way between the Wolf’s lips before the Dupont lighter was peeled from the other half and used to light the tobacco stick. She never liked the art-deco design of it, believing it to ruin its otherwise simple aesthetic. But much like the rest of the Wolf’s outfit, subtlety wasn’t the goal. Once the cigarette was lit and the Wolf had blown a waft of smoke from his lips, Sable’s body itched but an inch forward to get in motion again. This time, however, she had miscalculated and the Wolf had taken notice.\n\n“Now what did I just say?”\n\n“To take it easy.” Sable responded without pause, straightening her back and remaining in position, though her eyes sought his to gauge just how upset he was at her mishap, if at all. The relaxed lids and softly curled lips told her he was merely amused. Which wasn’t as bad but still made her cast her eyes down.\n\nShe disliked standing still. The people around them moving with such rush and forcing her to step aside here and there did not help, neither did her shot statue. The Wolf didn’t seem to mind, remaining stand fest, towering above the crowd and leaving others to walk around him, their irritated glares or softly muttered scoffs not bothering him in the slightest. He kept on staring, just long enough for one of the dogs to take notice and poke her friends about it. All three staring at once before turning around to laugh, upon which the Wolf finally began to move forward again, seemingly satisfied; she could tell by his cheek tuft moving from the corners of his mouth pulling up. The Goat took a final glance at the three, one of them having pulled her phone out to try and fake taking a selfie, but Sable could tell she was aiming for them.\n\nIt happened a lot. Hamburg was busy and they didn’t come here often enough for people to recognize them as regulars, so the odd pairing made for a curious sight to many. Sable because of her enormous rack, the Wolf because of… well. Being a Wolf, mostly. Amongst a dog-centric population and increased interbreeding of the 21st century, many had probably never met one in the flesh before. All just more fodder for his arsenal in the end, since sticking out was what could open many otherwise bolted-shut doors.\n\nBut stuck out he would have, even if he had been an ordinary dog. The way he dressed was risqué even in his youth; three-piece suits in almost frilly plaid-patterns and paisley ties were guaranteed to raise eyebrows, contrasting with his two-tone fur. Wing-tipped oxfords that snugly fit around his feet clacking their wooden soles in a steady rhythm, audible through a crowd of other canine and herbivores that mostly went barefoot or in spats. Shoes had always been a clear sign of extreme wealth; she had been taught. Spats or cloth wraps were little more than paw-padding to ensure your feet would not get fucked on errand scraps or broken glass, and “did not count”, according to the Wolf. Anything actually encompassing the entire foot was always bespoke pieces, thus remained unobtainable for the general animal.\n\nShe remembered when he had taken her the shop in Hessen; a tailor by some boring, old German name she could not be bothered to remember. The Vixen looked as old as the building itself but she was younger than the Wolf by several decades, not like that meant much. She was nice, very soft-spoken and she had talked a lot while fitting her coat, which she hated. People always talked so much and it was never anything interesting. But the old woman had worked quickly at least, the skill with which she was able to stick needles into the fabric had impressed her and she remembered very clearly how she had smiled when she returned the trench coat and let her put it back on. Sable had tried not to show it but she really liked the feel.\n\n“It is Wednesday today, is it not?”\n\nThe Wolf’s voice briefly cut through her trail of though and she nodded. “It is.”\n\n“They’ll serve crab cakes for brunch then! Oh, I have had a craving for those since yest-”\n\n“That’s Thursday. Wednesday is Lobster Quiche.” the Goat interrupted him, whilst turning sideways to avoid being run into by a pedestrian couple. They did not quite manage to release the bond formed by their held hands and Sable felt their fists smack into her left kidney area.\n\n“Fuckers!”\n\nThe Goat’s shout was loud, her eyes wide and her stance moving into a combative pose in an instant as she glared up at the Shepherd whose eyes returned her hostility after a short moment of surprise. She could watch the onset of apology drop from his face after she insulted him. She remained standing tall, glaring up at the man whose interest in retaliating seemed to wain with the stream of pedestrians prompted them to move along. Sable, however, was undeterred, moving forward to confront him but a single step is as far as she got before a strong hand grasped her left horn and began to pull her.\n\nStumbling to keep on her feet, Sable moved along with the Wolf pulling her, out of the pedestrian stream and towards the small clearings produced between granite-lined patches used to plant trees to their right. His arm swung around to shove the Goat inches from the wall of the old buildings flanking the street, leaving her to struggle to regain balance. She was left with but a moment to compose herself when his hands slammed down on both her shoulders and his face came within inches of hers.\n\n“Do you wish to go home?”\n\nThe question caught her off-guard for a moment. His eyes bored into hers, like sticking a needle in her pupils. The grip on her shoulders was firm, the weight of his hands alone was concerning and she could feel the padded digits push into her slim shoulders. She was sorry! The outburst was uncalled for, she knew it. This was not how she was supposed to behave, she was better than this. He had trained her better than this. Bad Goat.\n\n“If you cannot behave yourself-”\n\n“I will!”\n\n[b]No![/b] The sentence had slipped her lips before she knew it and she felt her eyelids making every which attempt to close over her bulging eyeballs. Why was she faltering right now, this was not the time! And the Wolf made it known. His left hand slipped from her shoulders and the gloved index finger pushed right up against her lips to seal them.\n\n“If you cannot behave.” he began anew, pausing for a moment to emphasize the point she had interrupted him at. “I will send you off and you can walk to the clinic on your own. The fresh air will give you time to think.”\n\n“I will behave.” she responded, this time after a short pause to make sure he had nothing more to say. A hard knot formed in her throat. She did not let it on, staring back at him with undefeated will. He did not have to know.\n\nAnd he did not respond. His eyes continued to lance hers and he waited. The large seam of the glove slowly sinking down until the stitched claw pouch caught her lower lip, pulling it to expose white, small teeth. She was strong. His broad shoulders, the slight hunch in his back from bending over, the large head of his, the predator scent only barely masked by perfume… she could take it, but only for a while. \n\nNo response still. Seconds that felt like minutes and her instincts were beginning to claw themselves back into her conscious. It was so, so difficult for prey to not feel them take over in the presence of predators. Dogs were fine. Dogs were easy. But not Wolves. There was something most could not ignore, something in the back of her skull that was writhing and beginning to screech, it would break free and he knew it. The knot in her throat tightened and she felt her lip twitch. It did not quiver, not yet. Please don’t. Please, she was sorry! She didn’t mean-\n\nHe stood back up straight.\n\nLike a veil lifting from her face, emphasized by him letting go of her shoulders, the weight removed and her senses snapping out of that awful stasis. She wanted to gasp and suck in air but she held back, finally in control again. Her eyes moved up, having lost eye contact with him for just a moment. Without a further word, he turned at the heel and walked back into the crowd, the Goat following with minimal distance.\n\nRed heat was creeping up into her cheeks. Shame held its tight grasp on her for a while, helping to ignore the fear of being stuck in the crowd like a dog. She forced it back down. No one was allowed to see it, especially not him! She had to keep it together. She had to deal with this later. She could hate herself for having failed to spectacularly in the shower tonight. No bath, it wouldn’t end well after this.\n\nThe destination finally came into view when they reached the end of the shopping district. To the right into Rathausstraße, she could spot the confusingly named Café Paris on the other side. Like so many old restaurants, it was built right next to the street with just a wider sidewalk to use for putting chair and tables outside. Flower pots had been parked in place of cars at the curbside to create some manner of separation and some tables were already occupied with clients taking their breakfast, as would she and the Wolf in a short moment. The Goat was glad to be out of the crowd, but the worst was yet to come; sitting down.\n\nShe hated sitting even more than standing still. How she wished they could just get a coffee on the go like the last time. Stopping at the sidewalk to wait for passing cars to allow for them to cross the street, she looked up the Wolf. They had been late last time they were here, leaving them to pick up a coffee before walking right on. It had rained heavily that day, which saw her holding the umbrella for him, walking by him with awkward steps until he hooked his elbow into hers. Fused together, they had walked until they got to the clinic, through the rain that drowned out other noises. It felt like a distant dream now; she could tell he was still angry with her.\n\nHer fears would be allowed to dilute when they approached the Café and were greeted by one of the waiters. They came here often enough to be considered valued customers, as he loved to point out. Sable knew this was just down to how much money they spent every time they did. Non the less, the waiter was outspokenly polite when he pointed them towards one of the tables near the entrance, in front of the large windows. It wasn’t the table she had reserved for them. She always reserved the second-most out to the door. That way, he had the shortest path for a bathroom break but they wouldn’t be bothered by waiters and customers walking in and out the door. The Wolf had either not taken notice or did not care, simply moving to the described table with a hearty “Thank you!”\n\nIt was for the best, Sable had felt her lips twitch, ready to scold the waiter for it. But this wasn’t the time, especially not after failing herself. And yet, she hated the waiter for it. Stupid man with his stupid smile. Go die. Still, she forced herself to acquit his invitation with a nod, instead of scowl and watched the Wolf unbutton his overcoat. She stepped behind him at just the right moment to grasp the coat by the lower shoulders… the highest point of his body she could reach, even when extending her body all the way. She could not stand on her hooftips either, the stupid shoes created too steep an angle and she would have kinked over if she did. She had tried exactly once, thankfully when testing it by herself in her room. No one would know if this. The coat slipped from his shoulders, revealing the three-piece he wore underneath it; a plaid pattern of muted sepia tones, paired with a striking dark yellow tie and purple pocket square. Suit number 32, he had worn it only three times in the last two years.\n\n“Ahh, let’s see what they have for food! I am bloody starving already!”\n\nThe Goat simply looked at him, the enthusiasm in his voice almost letting her forget how she was scolded before. Opening the belt on her trench coat, she quickly pushed her hand inside of the coat to perform the motion of undoing the inner button before undoing the otter one and sliding the coat off of her shoulders to drape it over the backrest of her chair. She never fastened the inner button but was unsure whether it would bother him. She had yet to take a chance on it. Removing the coat was what she had dreaded the most today. Underneath was the outfit he had picked for her. Or rather, one that #12 had picked.\n\nShe was the oldest of the service Does still alive. One among the original batch from the late 50s. The hag was a diva extravagant, stinking of smoke and Apricot perfume, with a love for art and fashion that made even the Wolf’s pale. Too old to still excite the Wolf – although, she knew he fucked her sometimes – she was relegated to lead costume designer. The current uniforms of the Does were also her work. Why exactly it needed an entire Deer brain to figure out a set of pink Bikini’s was beyond her. There was not a single thing in life more stupid than fashion.\n\nSable briefly interrupted her trail of thought to watch. the Wolf study the menu with muted enthusiasm while reluctantly picking up a card for herself. The book was fancy, wooden side with brass rivets and pages in a faux-Pargament look, laminated in plastic, the rims of which bore the letters CP – Café Paris. She couldn’t think of a more unfortunate acronym to put on a menu.\n\nHer eyes moved back and forth between the menu pages and the Wolf’s face. She wished she was this excitable for food. He was excited for so many things in life, he always had been. Food, clothing, cars… her. Sometimes, anyway. After the day was over, he usually was. About two specific spots on her and he really liked to -\n\n“Have you chosen what you would like already?”\n\nThe Goat looked up at the waiter standing next to them, armed with a smile and the flip-over paper to take their order. She tried her best to murder him with every look she gave him but he could not differentiate it from her severe case of resting bitchface. Moving her glance to the Wolf to direct the waiter’s eyes who still loved to heed by modern rules and wait for the fair sex to speak first. That was not how it worked in the Wolf’s house, however. Thankfully, the waiter took the hint as he did every time, completing the stupid little game of roundabout politeness. Sable could not fault him for it, he was just doing his job. Again.\n\n“I’ll be having ‘The Moroccan’, with a Rüdesheimer, the Tartare à Cheval and…” the Wolf began, drawing out the ‘d’ in the last syllable as he let his index finger glide alone the menu. “Oysters! Half a dozen; what kind of Champagne do you offer with that?”\n\n“A Premier Cru by Louis Jadot, 2015 vintage! Unless you’d prefer a Rosé?” the waiter chimed up.\n\n“No, I believe that sounds quite acceptable! Wouldn’t you agree, Sable?”\n\nThe Goat blinked and hastily looked up from the card once more. She had not expected to be involved in the conversation again this quickly and struggled for a split second before simply nodding. “Sure.” Whether the Wolf was satisfied with her answer or he did not care about her input in the first place was left to hang.\n\n“A glass or…?” the waiter continued, his smile giving away that he already anticipated the answer.\n\n“A bottle, of course!” the Wolf winked back at him. They played this game every time they came here; Sable could feel her knuckles growing prominent from gripping the card harder. She hated it. She hated every single second of this. Just move on.\n\n“And what can I get for the young lady-”\n\n“Don’t call me that.”\n\nSable’s voice had turned icy as she interrupted the dog. She glared at him again and this time, she was sure he could differentiate. \n\n“I apologize, Miss, I did not mean to-”\n\n“Doctor Sooniecher calls me hat. You don’t call me that.”\n\nShe felt his hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up to look and for a moment, her combativeness extended to even the Wolf who slowly but surely pressed her back down into her seat; she had not even realized how her butt had left the chair. There was a moment of silence before the waiter simply smiled and tried once more.\n\n“What would you have, Miss?”\n\n“Sbiten.” she mumbled in response, her ears laid back before she continued. “Nothing else, thank you.”\n\nShe tried her best to look apologetic but was unsure whether her look could communicate it. The dog appeared understanding but as she was forced back down in the chair, she felt the weight of the hand on her shoulder a million times over. He had not deserved that. More so, she had made a scene. He hated it when girls made a scene.\n\nSitting silent as the waiter walked back inside to hand their order to the kitchen. Her gaze was cast down, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes right now. She fucked it up after all. Time to get up and head to the clinic alone.\n\n“Someone is a bit tense today, ja?”\n\nThe instant she felt his palm meet her cheek; her eyes snapped to lock onto his. What she saw made her throat close up and she had to bite her tongue to try and not let her emotions bubble over. His face was soft, he had his head tilted and his brows pushed up at the inner points. He looked worried. The huge palm felt soft against her cheek and she found herself pushing right into it. Her left hand raised up to grasp his wrist and she took the moment of affection in. She drank it like a thirsty dog in the summer and her muscles relaxed in an instant… his thumb taking care of the wet spot on her lower eyelid let a muffled noise escape her muzzle, after which her expression solidified again. She wouldn’t press the matter or abuse his generosity by becoming emotional! Still, it took her another moment to let go of his wrist. She wanted this moment to last forever but she had to make sure not to fall for it. This was as much a trick as it was trying to comfort her. But she would take it. She could play this game.\n\n“There we go. Good girl.”\n\nThe gurgled bleat her throat let lose was barely contained but she managed to rush her leg forward and hit the table stand to provide a plausible alibi for the brief stares other guests gave them. Alright, perhaps she was not ready for this game today after all. The rush of blood into her cheeks seemed to positively melt her skin off her bones and she bit down on her gloved hands as she glared to the side, briefly making eye contact with the Wolf again before going back to staring into the distance. The knot was back, this time in her stomach and not all that unpleasant. She wanted to hate this. Hate how much his gentle tone was like her very personal aqua vitae… but she couldn’t. She liked it. She liked him.\n\nThe hand withdrew and it almost seemed as though time slowed down to a quarter. Every nail of his was felt gracing her cheek and the young Caprine tried her best to etch it into memory. The breath in her chest felt heavy and rattling as she drew in air. His eyes had stopped to linger on hers and instead, he had taken to preparing his cigarettes. She watched his hands move so diligently, how the fabric on his jacket moved, the way the waistcoat drew across his broad chest. How the Etui looked laughably small in those hands. Fingers as thick as her thumbs and yet moving elegantly while they plucked a cigarette from underneath the holding pin.\n\nThe Goat had forgotten the world around her for just a little while. The scolding, the fuck-ups of today… what did it matter, really? She’d do twice as good when they arrived at the clinic in return! The softest sigh uttered from her small nostrils and she felt her nipples harden in her stupid bra when he brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it. She studied every move of his face. The way his cheeks drew inwards when sucking the first bits of smoke from the gold filter of the Sobranie. And when the smoke blew from his nostrils, he leaned back into his chair, gazing across the crowd. \n\nThen his ears perked up.\n\nShe could watch his pupils dilate, a look like she had seen a thousand times distort his face; flews twitching, exposing fangs for just a moment, his nostrils flaring up like black holes. His neck ached forward, the many wrinkles on his face standing out all the more. Sable could feel her dream collapse like a house of cards. She did not need to look to know what she would see. But she did so anyway, following his eyes to the other side of the street.\n\nOn the sidewalk, waiting to let cars pass, stood a Doe. Young, slim perhaps 15 or 16. She waited, tapping her hoof, clad in a gray set of sweatpants with baggy legs and a white, corded hoodie. Her appearance was cute; big ears and heavy lines of mascara accentuating her eyes, juxtaposed by an unsightly, thick nose ring penetrated from both her nostrils.\n\nFor a moment, she hoped the slut wouldn’t come closer but of course, she made her way straight to the Café, walking with that little swift bounce in her steps young Deer often had. The Goat didn’t want to look at her nor him. She tried to look away the best she could but it only made it worse! So, she looked back at the him, swallowing hard. The sheer hunger in his eyes was grotesque. Had any of the guests looked his way, they’d have known immediately. They both watched the Doe be greeted by the waiter and asked inside the Café. Sable could hear the Wolf’s shoes move, scraping across the large tiles on the curb, almost ready to stand up. \n\n“Here you go, Miss and Sir!”\n\nThe waiter had returned with their drink order. It put a stop to the Wolf for a moment and he spread his arms out with a hearty laugh and congratulations to the Coffee drink as it was placed in front of him. Served in those ugly cups and with the distinct smell of burning alcohol still lingering through the whipped cream. \n\n“Thank you.” Sable nodded and tried to show interest in her Sbiten. She usually quite liked the drink. They never put too much honey into it here. But right now, she had lost all appetite for it. Just the thought of sipping it made her want to gag. At least they would have breakfast coming in to satiate his hunger soon. And if he really needed to get his rocks off, he could wait until they were at the clinic. Maybe in the bathroom at the Café. All he needed to do was ask! She was right here; he didn’t need to sink his claws into some stupid Zoomer slut and-\n\n“Pardon me for just a moment, will you!” The Wolf mused, putting his cigarette down to balance it in the ashtray before scooching his chair back and getting up.\n\nSable’s face paled as she watched the tall body raise up. He adjusted his tie and pulled the tips of his waistcoat before closing the button on his jacket and side-stepped from behind the table to make his way straight into the Café. There was that gag reflex again.\n\nThe moment after he disappeared through the entrance felt reduced in speed once more. Only this time, she just wanted it to end. She wanted to leave on her own. Just get up and walk to the Clinic. Make up some excuse as to why she’d have to be there. An important call from the staff and she didn’t mean to disturb him. That could work! Sable adjusted her posture, she straightened her shoulders, keeping them in a single line, pushing her chest out and folding her hands in her lap, rubbing them against one another to try and self-sooth. \n\n“Heh.”\n\nShe hadn’t even taken her gloves off yet. Perhaps for the best right now, or she’d peel a hangnail again. Resisting the urge to get up and walk after the Wolf to try and thwart his plan took the last of her resolve. It wasn’t as though he could hit it off with her right away but he was no doubt sowing the seeds metaphorically before he’d try and do so physically. Which meant, she would need to see the dumb slut again sometime soon.\n\n[i]What are you hooking her with, huh? Asking if she’d like one of the Starbucks cards you had me buy ‘on accident’ and couldn’t return? Then hooking her in a conversation? Ask her to sit with us? Yeah, there’s another girl on the table, so it is safe, yeah? Why. I am right here. Why do you need that? She’s not even that pretty.[/i]\n\nShe could hear his voice through the crowd. Thankful she couldn’t make out his words if she didn’t try. Deep breaths. You can do this. You did it all the other times. \n\nThe last bits of warmth she had remembered cooled off and with a little flick of her ear, the old, yellow tag scraped her cheek, pulling her back out of her fantasy. Staring forward, focusing on relaxing her joints, she would wait. Right here.\n\n[i]I am right here.\n\nRight here.[/i]\n\n\n[center]______________________________________________________________________________\n_________________________________________________________________________________\n[url=https://www.furaffinity.net/user/goocasden]GoocasDen[/url][/center]",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "The street was busy at the Mö. The two hours past midday saw the already buzzing pedestrian area in the inner district of Hamburg packed with masses of writhing bodies trying to get by, barely avoiding bumping and shoving into one another and leaving little room to take a breather. The benches surrounding the fountain in the middle of the plaza turned into small islands of refuge, dotted with people who sat down to consume whatever it was they picked up on the many street-facing establishments offering meals and drinks. It all looked so much more interesting than where they were going. The Goat stared at the scene, with as much a longing gaze as she allowed herself to. Enough to express herself to herself, not enough for him to notice.
Sable’s hooves moved in tact with the feet of the Wolf walking next to her, each step creating a little, irritating metallic sound, originating from the shoes she had been made to wear that day. She had been made to wear a lot for this occasion but between the charcoal blazer with and the matching corded-stripe top and skirt combo, she hated the shoes the most. They were thin but weighty, throwing off her meticulously trained balance, their sounds ringing in her ears even through the background noise of the pedestrians as she simply could not help but focus on it. At least they weren’t permanent like a horseshoe, instead relying on the grip of magnets the tailor had glued in holes drilled into the base of her hooves. Why a Goat needed shoes like this eluded her to this day. She had hooves, what difference did it make, she took good care of them did she not?
Clack, clack, clack
She hated the noise. She hated the blazer and the skirt, even if they were hidden underneath her Trench coat. It was a vintage Burberry the Wolf had given her on her 16th birthday and marked the only article of clothing she truly was comfortable wearing. Utilitarian, which made sense given the origin and the large pockets were nice to stuff her hands into and hide her disgruntled fists which were equally trapped inside gloves matching the sea green paint on her hooves. Everything about her appearance was bothering her today, a mood only exacerbated by having to come here with the Wolf to begin with.
Looking up at him as they walked, she followed his eyes moving behind the glasses on his snout, pupils rushing to spy on the people walking by and she could see him mentally picking targets as they walked. His ears perked when they passed the benches, the crowd of students frequenting the area being of highest interest. She never understood why he would bother. Following his eyes, her gaze landed on three girls chatting with Starbucks cups in their hands, dressed in crop-tops and tight sweatpants, legs slung over one another and laughing. All three of them dogs, two of them purebreds, one a mutt. Sable felt the disdain flare up in the back of her head, already putting down a list of shortcomings she could spot on the three, just in case the Wolf would comment on any of them.
He remained silent, slowing his steps, which saw the Goat releasing a somewhat muffled sound of disapproval, finally prompting the Wolf to speak as he outright stopped.
“Easy there. We are still perfectly within the margins of the time-table, if I am not mistaking?”
“Yes, we are.”
Sable’s pupils diluted for a moment and she stopped in her tracks before she caught his hand movements in the corner of her eyes. The split-second of shock over him having taken note of her annoyed demeanor was quickly washed away, when she watched the gloved hand disappear inside the Bijang herringbone overcoat to retrieve an Etui. The silver Fabergé clamshell opened to reveal a set of black-papered cigarettes with one of them making its way between the Wolf’s lips before the Dupont lighter was peeled from the other half and used to light the tobacco stick. She never liked the art-deco design of it, believing it to ruin its otherwise simple aesthetic. But much like the rest of the Wolf’s outfit, subtlety wasn’t the goal. Once the cigarette was lit and the Wolf had blown a waft of smoke from his lips, Sable’s body itched but an inch forward to get in motion again. This time, however, she had miscalculated and the Wolf had taken notice.
“Now what did I just say?”
“To take it easy.” Sable responded without pause, straightening her back and remaining in position, though her eyes sought his to gauge just how upset he was at her mishap, if at all. The relaxed lids and softly curled lips told her he was merely amused. Which wasn’t as bad but still made her cast her eyes down.
She disliked standing still. The people around them moving with such rush and forcing her to step aside here and there did not help, neither did her shot statue. The Wolf didn’t seem to mind, remaining stand fest, towering above the crowd and leaving others to walk around him, their irritated glares or softly muttered scoffs not bothering him in the slightest. He kept on staring, just long enough for one of the dogs to take notice and poke her friends about it. All three staring at once before turning around to laugh, upon which the Wolf finally began to move forward again, seemingly satisfied; she could tell by his cheek tuft moving from the corners of his mouth pulling up. The Goat took a final glance at the three, one of them having pulled her phone out to try and fake taking a selfie, but Sable could tell she was aiming for them.
It happened a lot. Hamburg was busy and they didn’t come here often enough for people to recognize them as regulars, so the odd pairing made for a curious sight to many. Sable because of her enormous rack, the Wolf because of… well. Being a Wolf, mostly. Amongst a dog-centric population and increased interbreeding of the 21st century, many had probably never met one in the flesh before. All just more fodder for his arsenal in the end, since sticking out was what could open many otherwise bolted-shut doors.
But stuck out he would have, even if he had been an ordinary dog. The way he dressed was risqué even in his youth; three-piece suits in almost frilly plaid-patterns and paisley ties were guaranteed to raise eyebrows, contrasting with his two-tone fur. Wing-tipped oxfords that snugly fit around his feet clacking their wooden soles in a steady rhythm, audible through a crowd of other canine and herbivores that mostly went barefoot or in spats. Shoes had always been a clear sign of extreme wealth; she had been taught. Spats or cloth wraps were little more than paw-padding to ensure your feet would not get fucked on errand scraps or broken glass, and “did not count”, according to the Wolf. Anything actually encompassing the entire foot was always bespoke pieces, thus remained unobtainable for the general animal.
She remembered when he had taken her the shop in Hessen; a tailor by some boring, old German name she could not be bothered to remember. The Vixen looked as old as the building itself but she was younger than the Wolf by several decades, not like that meant much. She was nice, very soft-spoken and she had talked a lot while fitting her coat, which she hated. People always talked so much and it was never anything interesting. But the old woman had worked quickly at least, the skill with which she was able to stick needles into the fabric had impressed her and she remembered very clearly how she had smiled when she returned the trench coat and let her put it back on. Sable had tried not to show it but she really liked the feel.
“It is Wednesday today, is it not?”
The Wolf’s voice briefly cut through her trail of though and she nodded. “It is.”
“They’ll serve crab cakes for brunch then! Oh, I have had a craving for those since yest-”
“That’s Thursday. Wednesday is Lobster Quiche.” the Goat interrupted him, whilst turning sideways to avoid being run into by a pedestrian couple. They did not quite manage to release the bond formed by their held hands and Sable felt their fists smack into her left kidney area.
“Fuckers!”
The Goat’s shout was loud, her eyes wide and her stance moving into a combative pose in an instant as she glared up at the Shepherd whose eyes returned her hostility after a short moment of surprise. She could watch the onset of apology drop from his face after she insulted him. She remained standing tall, glaring up at the man whose interest in retaliating seemed to wain with the stream of pedestrians prompted them to move along. Sable, however, was undeterred, moving forward to confront him but a single step is as far as she got before a strong hand grasped her left horn and began to pull her.
Stumbling to keep on her feet, Sable moved along with the Wolf pulling her, out of the pedestrian stream and towards the small clearings produced between granite-lined patches used to plant trees to their right. His arm swung around to shove the Goat inches from the wall of the old buildings flanking the street, leaving her to struggle to regain balance. She was left with but a moment to compose herself when his hands slammed down on both her shoulders and his face came within inches of hers.
“Do you wish to go home?”
The question caught her off-guard for a moment. His eyes bored into hers, like sticking a needle in her pupils. The grip on her shoulders was firm, the weight of his hands alone was concerning and she could feel the padded digits push into her slim shoulders. She was sorry! The outburst was uncalled for, she knew it. This was not how she was supposed to behave, she was better than this. He had trained her better than this. Bad Goat.
“If you cannot behave yourself-”
“I will!”
No! The sentence had slipped her lips before she knew it and she felt her eyelids making every which attempt to close over her bulging eyeballs. Why was she faltering right now, this was not the time! And the Wolf made it known. His left hand slipped from her shoulders and the gloved index finger pushed right up against her lips to seal them.
“If you cannot behave.” he began anew, pausing for a moment to emphasize the point she had interrupted him at. “I will send you off and you can walk to the clinic on your own. The fresh air will give you time to think.”
“I will behave.” she responded, this time after a short pause to make sure he had nothing more to say. A hard knot formed in her throat. She did not let it on, staring back at him with undefeated will. He did not have to know.
And he did not respond. His eyes continued to lance hers and he waited. The large seam of the glove slowly sinking down until the stitched claw pouch caught her lower lip, pulling it to expose white, small teeth. She was strong. His broad shoulders, the slight hunch in his back from bending over, the large head of his, the predator scent only barely masked by perfume… she could take it, but only for a while.
No response still. Seconds that felt like minutes and her instincts were beginning to claw themselves back into her conscious. It was so, so difficult for prey to not feel them take over in the presence of predators. Dogs were fine. Dogs were easy. But not Wolves. There was something most could not ignore, something in the back of her skull that was writhing and beginning to screech, it would break free and he knew it. The knot in her throat tightened and she felt her lip twitch. It did not quiver, not yet. Please don’t. Please, she was sorry! She didn’t mean-
He stood back up straight.
Like a veil lifting from her face, emphasized by him letting go of her shoulders, the weight removed and her senses snapping out of that awful stasis. She wanted to gasp and suck in air but she held back, finally in control again. Her eyes moved up, having lost eye contact with him for just a moment. Without a further word, he turned at the heel and walked back into the crowd, the Goat following with minimal distance.
Red heat was creeping up into her cheeks. Shame held its tight grasp on her for a while, helping to ignore the fear of being stuck in the crowd like a dog. She forced it back down. No one was allowed to see it, especially not him! She had to keep it together. She had to deal with this later. She could hate herself for having failed to spectacularly in the shower tonight. No bath, it wouldn’t end well after this.
The destination finally came into view when they reached the end of the shopping district. To the right into Rathausstraße, she could spot the confusingly named Café Paris on the other side. Like so many old restaurants, it was built right next to the street with just a wider sidewalk to use for putting chair and tables outside. Flower pots had been parked in place of cars at the curbside to create some manner of separation and some tables were already occupied with clients taking their breakfast, as would she and the Wolf in a short moment. The Goat was glad to be out of the crowd, but the worst was yet to come; sitting down.
She hated sitting even more than standing still. How she wished they could just get a coffee on the go like the last time. Stopping at the sidewalk to wait for passing cars to allow for them to cross the street, she looked up the Wolf. They had been late last time they were here, leaving them to pick up a coffee before walking right on. It had rained heavily that day, which saw her holding the umbrella for him, walking by him with awkward steps until he hooked his elbow into hers. Fused together, they had walked until they got to the clinic, through the rain that drowned out other noises. It felt like a distant dream now; she could tell he was still angry with her.
Her fears would be allowed to dilute when they approached the Café and were greeted by one of the waiters. They came here often enough to be considered valued customers, as he loved to point out. Sable knew this was just down to how much money they spent every time they did. Non the less, the waiter was outspokenly polite when he pointed them towards one of the tables near the entrance, in front of the large windows. It wasn’t the table she had reserved for them. She always reserved the second-most out to the door. That way, he had the shortest path for a bathroom break but they wouldn’t be bothered by waiters and customers walking in and out the door. The Wolf had either not taken notice or did not care, simply moving to the described table with a hearty “Thank you!”
It was for the best, Sable had felt her lips twitch, ready to scold the waiter for it. But this wasn’t the time, especially not after failing herself. And yet, she hated the waiter for it. Stupid man with his stupid smile. Go die. Still, she forced herself to acquit his invitation with a nod, instead of scowl and watched the Wolf unbutton his overcoat. She stepped behind him at just the right moment to grasp the coat by the lower shoulders… the highest point of his body she could reach, even when extending her body all the way. She could not stand on her hooftips either, the stupid shoes created too steep an angle and she would have kinked over if she did. She had tried exactly once, thankfully when testing it by herself in her room. No one would know if this. The coat slipped from his shoulders, revealing the three-piece he wore underneath it; a plaid pattern of muted sepia tones, paired with a striking dark yellow tie and purple pocket square. Suit number 32, he had worn it only three times in the last two years.
“Ahh, let’s see what they have for food! I am bloody starving already!”
The Goat simply looked at him, the enthusiasm in his voice almost letting her forget how she was scolded before. Opening the belt on her trench coat, she quickly pushed her hand inside of the coat to perform the motion of undoing the inner button before undoing the otter one and sliding the coat off of her shoulders to drape it over the backrest of her chair. She never fastened the inner button but was unsure whether it would bother him. She had yet to take a chance on it. Removing the coat was what she had dreaded the most today. Underneath was the outfit he had picked for her. Or rather, one that #12 had picked.
She was the oldest of the service Does still alive. One among the original batch from the late 50s. The hag was a diva extravagant, stinking of smoke and Apricot perfume, with a love for art and fashion that made even the Wolf’s pale. Too old to still excite the Wolf – although, she knew he fucked her sometimes – she was relegated to lead costume designer. The current uniforms of the Does were also her work. Why exactly it needed an entire Deer brain to figure out a set of pink Bikini’s was beyond her. There was not a single thing in life more stupid than fashion.
Sable briefly interrupted her trail of thought to watch. the Wolf study the menu with muted enthusiasm while reluctantly picking up a card for herself. The book was fancy, wooden side with brass rivets and pages in a faux-Pargament look, laminated in plastic, the rims of which bore the letters CP – Café Paris. She couldn’t think of a more unfortunate acronym to put on a menu.
Her eyes moved back and forth between the menu pages and the Wolf’s face. She wished she was this excitable for food. He was excited for so many things in life, he always had been. Food, clothing, cars… her. Sometimes, anyway. After the day was over, he usually was. About two specific spots on her and he really liked to -
“Have you chosen what you would like already?”
The Goat looked up at the waiter standing next to them, armed with a smile and the flip-over paper to take their order. She tried her best to murder him with every look she gave him but he could not differentiate it from her severe case of resting bitchface. Moving her glance to the Wolf to direct the waiter’s eyes who still loved to heed by modern rules and wait for the fair sex to speak first. That was not how it worked in the Wolf’s house, however. Thankfully, the waiter took the hint as he did every time, completing the stupid little game of roundabout politeness. Sable could not fault him for it, he was just doing his job. Again.
“I’ll be having ‘The Moroccan’, with a Rüdesheimer, the Tartare à Cheval and…” the Wolf began, drawing out the ‘d’ in the last syllable as he let his index finger glide alone the menu. “Oysters! Half a dozen; what kind of Champagne do you offer with that?”
“A Premier Cru by Louis Jadot, 2015 vintage! Unless you’d prefer a Rosé?” the waiter chimed up.
“No, I believe that sounds quite acceptable! Wouldn’t you agree, Sable?”
The Goat blinked and hastily looked up from the card once more. She had not expected to be involved in the conversation again this quickly and struggled for a split second before simply nodding. “Sure.” Whether the Wolf was satisfied with her answer or he did not care about her input in the first place was left to hang.
“A glass or…?” the waiter continued, his smile giving away that he already anticipated the answer.
“A bottle, of course!” the Wolf winked back at him. They played this game every time they came here; Sable could feel her knuckles growing prominent from gripping the card harder. She hated it. She hated every single second of this. Just move on.
“And what can I get for the young lady-”
“Don’t call me that.”
Sable’s voice had turned icy as she interrupted the dog. She glared at him again and this time, she was sure he could differentiate.
“I apologize, Miss, I did not mean to-”
“Doctor Sooniecher calls me hat. You don’t call me that.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up to look and for a moment, her combativeness extended to even the Wolf who slowly but surely pressed her back down into her seat; she had not even realized how her butt had left the chair. There was a moment of silence before the waiter simply smiled and tried once more.
“What would you have, Miss?”
“Sbiten.” she mumbled in response, her ears laid back before she continued. “Nothing else, thank you.”
She tried her best to look apologetic but was unsure whether her look could communicate it. The dog appeared understanding but as she was forced back down in the chair, she felt the weight of the hand on her shoulder a million times over. He had not deserved that. More so, she had made a scene. He hated it when girls made a scene.
Sitting silent as the waiter walked back inside to hand their order to the kitchen. Her gaze was cast down, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes right now. She fucked it up after all. Time to get up and head to the clinic alone.
“Someone is a bit tense today, ja?”
The instant she felt his palm meet her cheek; her eyes snapped to lock onto his. What she saw made her throat close up and she had to bite her tongue to try and not let her emotions bubble over. His face was soft, he had his head tilted and his brows pushed up at the inner points. He looked worried. The huge palm felt soft against her cheek and she found herself pushing right into it. Her left hand raised up to grasp his wrist and she took the moment of affection in. She drank it like a thirsty dog in the summer and her muscles relaxed in an instant… his thumb taking care of the wet spot on her lower eyelid let a muffled noise escape her muzzle, after which her expression solidified again. She wouldn’t press the matter or abuse his generosity by becoming emotional! Still, it took her another moment to let go of his wrist. She wanted this moment to last forever but she had to make sure not to fall for it. This was as much a trick as it was trying to comfort her. But she would take it. She could play this game.
“There we go. Good girl.”
The gurgled bleat her throat let lose was barely contained but she managed to rush her leg forward and hit the table stand to provide a plausible alibi for the brief stares other guests gave them. Alright, perhaps she was not ready for this game today after all. The rush of blood into her cheeks seemed to positively melt her skin off her bones and she bit down on her gloved hands as she glared to the side, briefly making eye contact with the Wolf again before going back to staring into the distance. The knot was back, this time in her stomach and not all that unpleasant. She wanted to hate this. Hate how much his gentle tone was like her very personal aqua vitae… but she couldn’t. She liked it. She liked him.
The hand withdrew and it almost seemed as though time slowed down to a quarter. Every nail of his was felt gracing her cheek and the young Caprine tried her best to etch it into memory. The breath in her chest felt heavy and rattling as she drew in air. His eyes had stopped to linger on hers and instead, he had taken to preparing his cigarettes. She watched his hands move so diligently, how the fabric on his jacket moved, the way the waistcoat drew across his broad chest. How the Etui looked laughably small in those hands. Fingers as thick as her thumbs and yet moving elegantly while they plucked a cigarette from underneath the holding pin.
The Goat had forgotten the world around her for just a little while. The scolding, the fuck-ups of today… what did it matter, really? She’d do twice as good when they arrived at the clinic in return! The softest sigh uttered from her small nostrils and she felt her nipples harden in her stupid bra when he brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it. She studied every move of his face. The way his cheeks drew inwards when sucking the first bits of smoke from the gold filter of the Sobranie. And when the smoke blew from his nostrils, he leaned back into his chair, gazing across the crowd.
Then his ears perked up.
She could watch his pupils dilate, a look like she had seen a thousand times distort his face; flews twitching, exposing fangs for just a moment, his nostrils flaring up like black holes. His neck ached forward, the many wrinkles on his face standing out all the more. Sable could feel her dream collapse like a house of cards. She did not need to look to know what she would see. But she did so anyway, following his eyes to the other side of the street.
On the sidewalk, waiting to let cars pass, stood a Doe. Young, slim perhaps 15 or 16. She waited, tapping her hoof, clad in a gray set of sweatpants with baggy legs and a white, corded hoodie. Her appearance was cute; big ears and heavy lines of mascara accentuating her eyes, juxtaposed by an unsightly, thick nose ring penetrated from both her nostrils.
For a moment, she hoped the slut wouldn’t come closer but of course, she made her way straight to the Café, walking with that little swift bounce in her steps young Deer often had. The Goat didn’t want to look at her nor him. She tried to look away the best she could but it only made it worse! So, she looked back at the him, swallowing hard. The sheer hunger in his eyes was grotesque. Had any of the guests looked his way, they’d have known immediately. They both watched the Doe be greeted by the waiter and asked inside the Café. Sable could hear the Wolf’s shoes move, scraping across the large tiles on the curb, almost ready to stand up.
“Here you go, Miss and Sir!”
The waiter had returned with their drink order. It put a stop to the Wolf for a moment and he spread his arms out with a hearty laugh and congratulations to the Coffee drink as it was placed in front of him. Served in those ugly cups and with the distinct smell of burning alcohol still lingering through the whipped cream.
“Thank you.” Sable nodded and tried to show interest in her Sbiten. She usually quite liked the drink. They never put too much honey into it here. But right now, she had lost all appetite for it. Just the thought of sipping it made her want to gag. At least they would have breakfast coming in to satiate his hunger soon. And if he really needed to get his rocks off, he could wait until they were at the clinic. Maybe in the bathroom at the Café. All he needed to do was ask! She was right here; he didn’t need to sink his claws into some stupid Zoomer slut and-
“Pardon me for just a moment, will you!” The Wolf mused, putting his cigarette down to balance it in the ashtray before scooching his chair back and getting up.
Sable’s face paled as she watched the tall body raise up. He adjusted his tie and pulled the tips of his waistcoat before closing the button on his jacket and side-stepped from behind the table to make his way straight into the Café. There was that gag reflex again.
The moment after he disappeared through the entrance felt reduced in speed once more. Only this time, she just wanted it to end. She wanted to leave on her own. Just get up and walk to the Clinic. Make up some excuse as to why she’d have to be there. An important call from the staff and she didn’t mean to disturb him. That could work! Sable adjusted her posture, she straightened her shoulders, keeping them in a single line, pushing her chest out and folding her hands in her lap, rubbing them against one another to try and self-sooth.
“Heh.”
She hadn’t even taken her gloves off yet. Perhaps for the best right now, or she’d peel a hangnail again. Resisting the urge to get up and walk after the Wolf to try and thwart his plan took the last of her resolve. It wasn’t as though he could hit it off with her right away but he was no doubt sowing the seeds metaphorically before he’d try and do so physically. Which meant, she would need to see the dumb slut again sometime soon.
What are you hooking her with, huh? Asking if she’d like one of the Starbucks cards you had me buy ‘on accident’ and couldn’t return? Then hooking her in a conversation? Ask her to sit with us? Yeah, there’s another girl on the table, so it is safe, yeah? Why. I am right here. Why do you need that? She’s not even that pretty.
She could hear his voice through the crowd. Thankful she couldn’t make out his words if she didn’t try. Deep breaths. You can do this. You did it all the other times.
The last bits of warmth she had remembered cooled off and with a little flick of her ear, the old, yellow tag scraped her cheek, pulling her back out of her fantasy. Staring forward, focusing on relaxing her joints, she would wait. Right here.