"Good evening, Governor!"

Diane glanced towards the source of the voice as she made her way through the crowd of sharply-dressed well-to-dos. Not that she didn't fit in with them, wearing a navy blue, sleeveless, slitted cocktail dress that went down to just a few inches shy of her ankles, the same color as her elbow-length gloves. She also had pure white dress platform shoes matching the pearls featuring prominently in her assortment of jewelry, completing the look of a lavish partygoer.

Looking over the calico cat who had greeted her, it took her a moment to remember him. Once she had, the vixen nodded her head and replied with a small wave and a "Good evening, Councilor," in a polite tone, yet didn't slow her steps.

The party wasn't exactly large, per se, but all of the guests were packed into the mansion's ballroom, the walls painted a cream color while the carpets and curtains were a vibrant red. Diane and the other guests were present at the pleasure of the host, Hendrick Bullsworth, whom she could see standing upon the stage where the musicians were playing, talking with whoever was setting up the microphone there. The bull's imposing figure barely fit into his dress suit, but it was his influence and wealth as a stock trader that gave him his real power – enough to host a party like this just to garner more favor with the elites, certainly.

One of the staff of the host's mansion shuffled through the crowd past Diane, holding a serving dish of hors d'ouvres that was one lighter once Diane passed him by, with him none the wiser. She smirked to herself as she popped the appetizer into her mouth, swallowing it just in time to give another greeting on her way to the table with the drinks. She was certainly no stranger to this kind of shoulder-rubbing with influential members of the city, many of whom had more money than sense; she'd done it so many times that it was all routine to her now. A greeting here, a handshake and a more elaborate introduction there, just the right amount of small talk to make a good impression before moving on and keeping her sanity. It was all just part of the job, if a bit mentally exhausting.

At least the host wasn't skimping on the drinks, and she certainly didn't mind a brief wait in line as she got to admire the well-groomed arctic fox pouring for the guests, his fur just as pristine white as his suit jacket. Having a glass of fine red wine in one hand made all the schmoozing far more tolerable, enough that she didn't mind at all when an old goat in an older suit tried to get her attention, and she had to dredge her memory once again. A banker? A real estate owner? Insurance? Well, a simple 'How's the business going?' inquiry could tell her that without revealing that she couldn't quite recall...

"Ladies and gentlemen," came the host's voice after some time, bringing the attention of everyone present to the front of the stage. "Thank you all for coming here tonight..."

It was the perfect opportunity for Diane to slip away into the crowd unnoticed, taking advantage of the distraction to skip the line at the food table and abscond with another couple of bite-sized appetizers. She kept her ears pointed towards the stage on the off-chance that anything important was said, but for the most part, it was the usual platitudes for such an event, pretending that there was some other reason for the party beyond merely currying favor and influence.

The section of the ballroom closest to the entrance and furthest from the stage was substantially less crowded, so Diane made her way there to get a little breathing room. The doors to the ballroom were wide open, and she caught a glance into the lobby where the bathrooms were, both of which already had lines. Sipping from her wine, Diane was vaguely aware of a faint need to visit them herself, but she could wait – in all likelihood as time went on and more people left, the lines would be shorter.

"...so please, enjoy yourselves, and don't be afraid to come say hello," Mr. Bullsworth concluded, receiving a modest amount of applause in return that Diane couldn't join in with while one hand was holding her wineglass. The staff also took the opportunity to open the big glass doors leading out into the courtyard, which eased the crowding as people spilled out into it. With the announcement over, the crowd's attention turned away from the stage and the partygoers began to mingle once again; taking a deep breath to steel herself, Diane set off to do the same. Half of being the Governor was all about keeping up appearances, or at least, that was what it felt like some days.

She didn't get far before hearing an "Ah, Governor Foxington!" that caught her attention, and she turned to the pair of canine gentlemen to her left. She studied them each for a half-second, but after convincing herself that neither the coyote nor the golden retriever could possibly be Mr. Wolf in disguise, she put on her best smile and held out her free hand. One never could be too careful, especially when it came to him...

"Good evening, gentlemen," she greeted them, going through the usual motions: shaking hands, hearing their names and professions – venture capitalists, apparently – and the obligatory comment about how lovely the party was.

"You're looking wonderful tonight, Governor," the coyote complimented, raising his champagne glass towards her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were the hostess!"

She gave a wry chuckle and half-closed her eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere in a place like this," she remarked.

The two of them chortled and the coyote continued, "I merely speak the truth! Everywhere you go, you always look your best." Gesturing to her with his champagne glass, he rhetorically asked, "Is there ever a time where you aren't the very image of a respectable lady?"

A smirk crossed her face; oh, there certainly were. "Never," she replied coyly, prompting more chuckles from them. From there the conversation shifted to more mundane topics about business, the city, and so on, until Diane was able to slip away again for a refill on her wine.

And so on the night went, as Diane flitted like a butterfly from conversation to conversation, never staying too long, just enough to make a good impression before moving on. Naturally there were many political donors among the crowd she had to be particularly nice to, given her position, but it was all just part of the act. Even she could only take so much of it, though, and after escaping another encounter she made her way to the back of the ballroom once more. She needed some space, and the courtyard was far too busy for her to find a quiet spot, so she headed for the doors to find somewhere else. The lines for the bathrooms were no shorter, unfortunately, so she went straight through the lobby to the hallway beyond, wineglass in hand.

"Ah, Ms. Foxington, leaving already?" the staff member by the doors to the hallway asked her. "Shall I fetch your coat?"

"Not quite yet, I just need to step outside and take a call," she offered as an excuse.

He nodded to her and she stepped past him into the hallway. The difference was stark; already the noise of the party was muffled, and there wasn't a soul to be seen amongst all the doors leading to various other parts of the mansion. Ahead, the front doors and the grand window above them through which the moon was visible offered the promise of relative quiet outdoors, but who knew when some early leaver – or late arrival – might show up and bother her?

An idea came to her as she walked along the thick carpet going down the central hallway. Most of the doors were visible from the lobby, but close to the entrance a grand staircase at one side of the hall led up to the second floor, roped off to discourage anyone from wandering up there. It did, however, obscure the sight of the side doors closest to the front, and with a surreptitious glance back over her shoulder, Diane calmly walked over to the closest one and tried the handle.

It was unlocked, and she swiftly stepped through, tugging the door closed quietly behind her. It was another hallway, and though the lights were off, a window at the far end of the hall allowed enough moonlight in to allow her to see. A smirk came to her muzzle as she began to walk along the wood-paneled halls – it wasn't exactly a heist, but being some place she wasn't meant to be was a familiar thrill, and her tail flicked once as she began to explore, reveling in the near-silence that offered a very welcome break from the hustle and bustle of the party. She definitely needed the chance to clear her head, think back over the people she had met so far, and do her best to memorize the names of the ones that seemed most important. A far easier task when she had some peace and quiet, to be sure...

Though the doors she passed by were closed, many of them had panes, panels or squares of glass that let her glimpse inside. Living rooms, sitting rooms, drawing rooms, and all the other fancy sorts of rooms one would expect from a mansion were there, while the opaque doors merely closed off closets and other storage rooms, as she confirmed from quick curious glances into each. She came across another staircase, one that wasn't roped off since guests weren't meant to be here at all, and ascended, keeping her ears pricked up to listen out for any potential movement, detecting none.

Yet as she crept up the stairs silently on the thick carpet, the needs of her body she had ignored earlier made themselves known again, her bladder very unhappy with how high she was raising her legs to get up the staircase. She sighed softly in the silent hallway as she continued; she'd have to pass by the bathrooms again on her way back, and get in line there. As she reached a turn in the staircase, another thought came to her: there was probably another bathroom around here she could use that she could get all to herself, and nobody would ever find out.

But when her right foot reached the top of the stairs, she paused, and her tail flicked once again. If there truly was nobody around, and nobody would ever find out she had been there... why even go hunting for a bathroom?

The top of the stairs opened to an intersection of hallways, and she cautiously glanced down each, yet there was no sign of a single soul. Doubtlessly, all of the staff were helping with the party. She took just a brief moment to decide which path to take, settling on the right one, and headed for the nearest door, her eyes darting from side to side to confirm once more that she was completely alone before bringing her free hand to the doorknob. It hadn't been her intent when she picked them out, but by wearing gloves, she'd ensured she would leave no fingerprints.

The door was unlocked, and the room beyond unlit. Slipping inside, Diane carefully listened out for anyone else, but there was only silence, and she closed the door before flicking on the lights, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. It was clearly a study, with a few bookshelves on one wall, and from a quick glance over the spines they all seemed to be about finance. A stately, polished mahogany desk with many drawers was pushed up against the wall, a good portion of its surface taken up by a computer monitor and keyboard, with a fancy swivel chair pushed underneath. Filing cabinets stood beside the desk, as well as a display case holding bottles of rare and expensive liquors, along with equally expensive crystal glasses. An unlit fireplace was set into the wall opposite the bookshelves, close to a grand armchair...

When Diane's eyes fell on the chair, her mind, previously mulling over the possible targets for her deed, immediately was made up. It was very large and well-padded, no doubt chosen to accommodate Mr. Bullsworth's large frame, upholstered with a crimson and dark green tartan pattern that Diane found distasteful. A sly smile crept onto her face, and she approached it, one hand on her hip and her tail swaying, setting the almost-empty glass of wine she was still carrying down onto a side table alongside a lamp and a box of tissues. Yes, this would be perfect.

The slitted design of her dress was ideal for this, allowing her to reach underneath it and slide her white silk panties down halfway to her knees. Grabbing the back half of her dress, she pulled it around to her front to keep it up and out of the way, while backing up to the armchair and resting one hand on the armrest to brace herself while the other hand held the back part of her dress over her lap. Still smirking, she flagged her tail up as high as she could while bending her knees and sticking her hips back, positioning her rump above the armchair's seat cushion, and once she was in position, she took a heavy breath and began to relax without any hesitation.

It didn't take long for her full bladder to release, and her smirk became a full grin as she felt her urine spilling from her slit almost straight down onto the chair cushion. At first it was silent as she soaked the fabric with vixen pee, but as she saturated it heavily it began to make a pattering sound she could hear clearly in the otherwise quiet room. She gave a low hum, partly from relief, and partly from amusement: the respectable Governor Foxington, sneaking off from a party to use one of her own donors' chairs as her personal toilet... just for the thrill, because she felt like it on a whim! Imagine the tabloid headlines!

Grinning even wider, she began to sway her hips from side to side just a little, emphasizing exactly what it was she was doing as her stream of urine continued to splash and soak the fabric. Oh, what a scandal it would be if anyone found out... but they wouldn't. The Crimson Paw had never yet been found or identified, and she certainly wouldn't be busted over something so trivial. And who would suspect Governor Foxington, anyway? She bent her knees a bit more to stick her hips even further back at that thought. To the public, she was a proper lady, far too cultured and well-mannered for anyone to even think for a moment she could be the one drenching an armchair in urine. If anything, that made it even better!

Another pleased exhale escaped her lips as her stream quickly trickled off as her bladder emptied. It would have been nice to last longer, but it had still been an enjoyable experience. She chuckled quietly as she straightened up just enough to free up a hand to snatch a tissue from the box on the side table; using the host's own tissues to clean up after herself felt even more mischievous, somehow, and she folded it once before brushing it over her slit a couple of times to dry herself.

Straightening up, she turned and glanced at the mess. It was quite obvious, at least while still fresh and wet, with an enormous and almost but not quite circular wet patch staining the cushion. Smirking, she casually tossed the tissue onto it and pulled her panties back up as she admired the sight. Such a small thing, just a single wet cushion, and yet it would ruin her whole career if discovered – yet, it wouldn't be. It was the perfect crime.

Picking up her wineglass, she turned to head for the door, when her eyes fell on the desk once again. Perhaps she ought to leave a secondary mark to go with her calling card? Taking graceful steps over to the desk, she reached for the topmost drawer and tugged it open carefully. Not even bothering to look at what, if anything, was inside, she set the wineglass down on the desk to lower her panties once more, this time letting them drop to her ankles so that she could straddle the drawer.

Clenching her abdominal muscles, she forced out what little remained in her – just a few splashes, nothing more. They struck... something solid, but not the drawer itself, as best she could tell from the sound it made, her ears flicking. When her fourth clench yielded nothing, she paused briefly to consider whether or not to look, before turning and shoving the drawer closed with her hips with naught so much as a glance inside.

Bending down to tug her panties back up, she retrieved her wineglass and returned to the door, bending down towards the keyhole to listen carefully. Hearing nothing, she flicked off the lights, slowly and carefully opening the door and creeping back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

Retracting her steps, she casually drained the rest of her glass on her way back down the stairs, returning to the party, stopping again to listen carefully at the door to the front hall. Once she was on the other side of it with not a single soul having seen her, she made her way back to the ballroom confidently, hips swaying, tail swishing on each step.

"Ah, Ms. Foxington," the servant at the lobby door greeted her when she returned. "Is everything well?"

She gave him a wide smile and a nod. No need for him to know the call she had taken was the call of nature. "Wonderful, thank you," she told him, "Please give the host my regards for providing such an enjoyable night."
