Zale's Big Trip, Pt 1
by H. A. Kirsch
Copyright 2011

---

Harley's voice came over the phone just like it always did: deep, syrupy, ragged in a calculated
kind of way. "Mr. Sterling, I am going on vacation for two weeks, starting next Monday." I imagined
the lion in some huge leather high back chair in a fancy office, in a nice business suit, with a cat
purring in his lap, big rings on his fingers. You know, like a fat-cat businessman villain from a
cartoon show. Just not fat. The big chair and office? Totally real. Been there. Done that, under the
desk.

"Aww, that's too bad. I hope you have fun," I said. Sometimes his voice and attitude made me feel
worried and demure. Since vacations sound fun, I assumed he would take a little ribbing.

"You will accompany me."

When he called, I had rolled onto my stomach on the bed, legs up in the air, pillow cradled under my
chest. Just like a giggling schoolgirl! I rolled over and sat up when he dropped that little bomb.
"Uh, isn't this a little short notice? I kind of have a job."

"One full week and one day is enough notice for a trip, Mr. Sterling," he said, and I heard some
kind of sound in the background. A creak. Was it his office chair? Why would he be in his office on
Sunday? No, it was leather. Was he working out? Was he wearing leather? My mind wandered away and I
brought it back.

"Maybe in the land of business consulting or whatever you do, but I work retail. We have to arrange
these schedules around, I mean, someone's going to have to cover for me and there's always some sort
of bitchy shit about not having a car and oh I have homework or a test and hey we had a show last
night and I'm totally wasted still.."

"Mr. Sterling," Harley said, words slowing down. That meant he was angry. Angry and excited. Angrily
excited? "You and I have an agreement. I always honor my end of it. You will honor yours."

I swallowed. "Yes, Mr. Benson. Uh, so, where are you... we... going?"

"I have a four-day business meeting to sign a deal in Sydney. Then, I would like to spend some time
seeing what Australia has to offer." That angry tone shifted to amusement, although it was feline
amusement, big cat amusement, that kind of playful thing most cat-guys do. Thing is, cats play with
their prey before eating it. Still cute?

"Australia."

"Yes. This should not be a stressful trip for you, as I recall you are already familiar with at
least part of the territory. Please make arrangements for time off, two weeks starting next Monday.
Good day, Mr. Sterling." He hung up without letting me get in another word.

Australia? We're going to Australia!

I'm _from_ Australia.

---

Dilemma. On one hand: vacation. I could use a vacation. Weekends or nights at Harley's place,
playing with my kink-nerd fox friend Mike Jasek, hanging out with coworkers, that was fine. An
all-out vacation, though? I couldn't even remember the last time I had one. Probably back when I was
still in high school. No, definitely back when I was in high school, the last time I'd been to
Australia. Back home, if moving to America at four years old still meant it was 'home'.

On the other hand: vacation... with Harley. Would I even get to relax? Maybe he would treat me like
a professional escort the entire time, drag me to dinner parties, ask me to take care of things for
him. Maybe we'd fuck and then he'd roll over and go to sleep. No, we'd get a room with two beds and
he'd make me sleep in the other one. Maybe he'd even get me a second room! Plus, I'd never spent so
much time with Harley. He was not really easy to get along with, in the sense of totally easy going
and whatever, dude. That's me. Even when I get all horse-scared, I just kind of freeze up. I don't
buck or kick hard enough to do damage.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to sort out which of those two situations was more likely.
Fun vacation, or humiliating arduous vacation. I needed an outside opinion, so I phoned up Jasek to
see if he wanted to hang out and discuss things.

"Hey Zale," he said, although it was more like a H-hey, like he was nervous. Like I caught him doing
something.

"Are you doing something filthy? Did you answer your phone while fucking?" I chided him like he was
a child, except I laughed so he knew it was a joke. Sometimes, he didn't know it was a joke and
would get nervously upset.

He laughed, although there was a grunt to it, a huff. "Well, sort of. It was really just kind of
hard to answer the phone. I had to use my nose."

"Are you tied up?" I was playing around with my guitar while talking to him. I felt so casual,
considering I was talking to someone doing something totally filthy on the phone and caressing a
thirteen thousand dollar guitar. A wolf got it for me.

"Yeah. I have ice locks on, and my rubber suit, and this e-stim thing. It's on..." And he gasped.
"It's on random. It just kind of... kicks now and then..."

"Ice locks?"

"So, imagine that instead of being padlocked, you're restrained using some ice held in a chamber.
When it melts all the way, you can get out. Otherwise, you're stuck. Wrists behind my back, boots
back behind me and strapped up to the wrists, two locks. I'm in my Vader outfit, actually."

"I thought you sounded muf- wait, so who's there?" I could imagine only one person being over at
Jasek's place, and it wasn't someone I wanted to think about.

"No one, I tied myself up. This guy I've been talking to online told me to do it. It was my orders.
He programmed the e-stim thing. I... I I... ahhrh, ahm. Hff. It... it's not really random. I think
it's getting faster. Faster and harder." Jasek's nerdy even keel started turning into desperation,
like he had to go to the bathroom or sneeze.

"Aren't you worried?"

"Nah, the ice will melt in about fifteen minutes. If something terrible happens in fifteen minutes,
well, what if I was in the shower? Same diiiiii.. unh. So what's up?"

I looked at my phone. I could not believe I was having that conversation. I half expected Jasek to
start talking about the weather. "I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out so I could run
something past you, but it sounds like you're kind of.. you know. So anyway, Harley wants to take me
on vacation. Or rather, ahem, 'I will accompany him'." I mocked the lion's heavy, brusque voice.
"He's going on this business trip and then he's going to, I don't know, go camping or something."

"Camping? He doesn't..." Jasek inhaled and sounded, frankly, like he was taking a massive shit. "He
goes camping?"

"Maybe I should call back when you're not -"

"It's kind of embarrassing, in a hot way, although I'm not sure if that's good because if I come
right now, then this thing isn't really going to stop zapping me. I'm not sure, though, it's pretty
complicated. Maybe it can tell."

"I actually have no idea if he goes camping or not. He's going to Australia. That's just, that's
weird. He's going to near where I'm from! What if someone sees us?"

"You moved here when you were still wetting the bed, Zale. I doubt anyone there even remembers
you---uuuuuuuunf!" While he talked - barely - I imagined he was in some sort of cheap sci-fi
television show, and there was meaningless lighted fog and lasers around him as he was sexually
tortured by some dick-zapper.

"I never wet the bed!" That he knew about. "Well, whatever. What if he treats me weird? Like he just
acts like I'm a butler or something. That'd suck. I'd be trapped on the other side of the fucking
planet with a grouchy lion. I'm lion food, Mike!"

"Harley doesn't want to... to eat you." I don't think he was getting shocked when he stuttered that.

"Did he tell you that when you were over that one time, while I was tied up in his basement?"

"No, he just... he just doesn't. Don't be scared of people eating you. We're not wild animals."
Jasek's breath caught. "Zale, I ... I have to.. he's calling me and... and, okay, uh." He hung up.

Everyone fucking hangs up on me. What the hell was going on with Jasek? First it's letting some
psychotic ex-marine german shepherd do crazy stuff to him, now it's letting guys on the internet
convince him to tie himself up and shock his balls dry? That electro stuff is hardcore. Plus, he
said he was wearing his Vader outfit. That's Darth Vader. The head, the helmet, it's like
fox-shaped. What a nerd. Kind of lovable, though.

Jasek _did_ convince me that Harley wasn't going to eat me, though, even though it wasn't what I was
worried about. Maybe on some level, it really was. Plus, the fox's situation got my mind off my own
trip for a while. He'd been acting a bit strange. Strange for him. A guy who wears Cardassian
generals' outfits while shoving metal rods into his bladder is pretty strange as it is.

Still, I wasn't really sure about the trip...

---

"So you're actually going going?" Shane was standing by the lockers, acting like that high school
bully I never had. Well, leaning. Hand on the metal, to keep me from leaving.

"Yeah, I'm going going. Are you kidding? I wouldn't actually say no. He already has the tickets, the
hotel stuff, some various plans for this resort, I mean I can't just drop it. I just wasn't sure.
You know? I wanted people to tell me I was crazy for thinking that I was going to have a shitty
time." I stuffed my work clothes into the locker and pulled out a black plastic bag. "So how'd you
know? I mean I didn't really tell anyone I'd decided."

The raccoon kicked my carry-on. "Uh, well, you're not a yuppie so I assume this isn't just for
wheeling your yuppie swag around in. What's in there?"

I clutched the black bag up against myself. "It's uh, it's something." I crouched down and opened my
carry-on. I was just about to stuff it in when Shane snatched it away. "Hey quit that! Don't be a
fucking brat!"

"Don't be fucking secretive! First you're all not gonna tell us that you're going on vacation-"

"I told Sheri!" Of course I did, because _she's my boss_.

"Now you got some mystery bag thing. What the hell is this? It's fucking heavy-"

"Nonononono!"

When someone takes your stuff, and starts to go through it, and you wig out and try to get it away,
it guarantees that they're gonna look through it even harder. I probably knew that in my head. Maybe
that's even why I played it up. Shane was the guy you expected to see at a guitar store, piercings
everywhere, skinny, that 'sup bro?' quality that soothes the mostly male clientele. He was also
totally straight, and kind of vanilla from what I'd heard.

When he opened the bag and found a pair of heavy, black leather hoof chaps, that vanilla got a big
dash of dark chocolate. "Holy fucking shit. These are fucking hooves!"

I gimme-lunged at him, lips flared, ears flailing around, and probably whinnied. He clutched the
hooves away from me hard enough that he bumped his floor radio talk button. "Shane! Shane give them
back, I'm serious, I gotta pack those, they're going with me!"

"What do you have to pack? Zale, are you packing stuff again? You love to pack-" I still had my
radio on, since I had to turn it in up at the front desk. That, and I forgot. The voice was Shawna,
Sheri's cousin. She was this gum-snapping fox girl who checked people's bags on the way in and out.
Apparently, it was a sex appeal position. I'll be honest, The Music Box kind of caters to Rock Star
Wannabes, yeah dude! Devil horns! That usually means guys. "Oh my god. The fanciest car just pulled
up. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my gaaaaaaaaawd!" I could hear her breasts jiggle through the radio,
then the slam of a door as she flew into the break room and stopped keying the radio.

"Shane," I grabbed him by the wrist. "Give those back, or I will kick your nuts off your body."

He shoved them into my arms and I rammed them into their plastic bag, then wedged it into the
carry-on and zipped up. I took off out of the back room, heading for the other end of the break area
at break-neck speed. I arrived just as Shawna was catching her breath, hands planted on the table,
endless bracelets and bracers clattering against it. The radio crackled in my ear. "Zale, I think
your ride's here."

"Ride? Oh shit, are you going on that trip? I thought you said you weren't!" Bob said, leaning back
with a candy bar in his hand. Bob was a rat who did stock work and had the metabolism of a
racehorse. He weighed about fifty pounds. "You see any koalas, you kick their asses."

"Koalas? Koalas? Lion!" Shawna said, still panting. The front door and break room were at opposite
ends of the storefront and she had to have ran. Shane came in, looking around like something was
wrong, followed by Sheri.

I just leaned back against the wall. Scooted back. I'd have backed out the door if I could, but
there was wall instead of door. Whenever there were more than a couple people in a small room, I
started to get way antsy. Bars and clubs were kind of excluded. A few seconds later and everyone's
head snapped to the doorway. Cowboy boots. Expensive ones, from the nice, woody thump. I knew that
sound very, very well.

Jesus might as well have walked into the room. To me, it was just Harley. He commanded the attention
of pretty much anyone anywhere he went, but I was used to it. I almost felt like it was a joke and
no one else got it. Dark charcoal suit with subtle silver pinstripes, white dress shirt, deep
burgundy tie, charcoal slacks, and those expensive black cowboy boots. Black dress gloves. His mane
was ruffled up in a classic leonine masculine explosion. I guess it was kind of windy out, a nice
crisp November day. Leaf peeper season.

"I'm here to see Mr. Sterling," Harley said, slowly making eye contact with everyone in the room but
me. No one said a word. No one except candy-nibbling Bob, who seemed startled only because everyone
else was.

"He's right there," the rat pointed his finger at me, then gave a patronizing little nod when Harley
just kept staring on.

"Sssh, you shithead, he's a fucking lion, you're a snack!" Shawna hit him on the elbow.

"Male lions do not hunt," Harley said, slowly making his way around the room to me. I decided it was
a good time to take my radio off and surrender it onto the dining table. "I would only worry about a
lioness, and I assure you, I am not one of those. Mr. Sterling, I believe we have a plane to catch."
He came right up to me and grabbed onto my shoulder with that big vice-grip leathered hand. I almost
blew a hole in my jeans, and _everyone_ stared.

"Uh, sure. Hey guys, I'll be back in a couple weeks. Don't let Shane snarf all the commissions
again." Harley was trying to look gentle about it, but if I put up any resistance, he _would_
physically drag me along. I dragged my wheelie carry-on along and everyone gave me a wave, good
wishes, all that shit.

Out in the car: silence. From the car, from Harley. A good five minutes passed, and my phone buzzed.
"Omg I want his babies." It was Shawna.

"I don't think he likes foxes that much," I typed back. I guess I was telling the truth. He only
seemed to interact with Jasek to learn about strange kinks and to find things out about me, and he
never was too friendly with his old friend Miranda's girlfriend Sasha. They were both Russian foxes
thou-

"Which one of them are you texting, Mr. Sterling?"

I prickled and heated up. "Uhh. Shawna." No reaction. "The fox." No reaction. "Uh, the trashy
looking one."

His response was only a grunt.

"Aren't we a little early?"

"You will enjoy spending time at the airport, Mr. Sterling, and not only because you get to sit next
to me. " ---