I half expected to wake up tied up somewhere without any clothes on. Well the clothes part is about right, but I'm not tied up. I'm at home, the sun is cruelly invading my room, reflecting off every shimmering surface right into my face. The mask is dangling from the knob of the bedside table and I am still wearing that ridiculous outfit, well outfit, strip of cloth. I head for the showers, losing the garment that clings to everything and tossing it in the hamper. What on earth do they put in those drinks? I turn on the water. In a flash the image of two brilliant blue eyes staring at me through a veil of emerald overcomes me. What did I do last night? I run my tongue through my mouth. That taste. It is faint, but still there. I start washing. Ghostly fingers move along the same paths they did yesterday. I close my eyes. I would not be surprised if someone would suddenly speak. 

	Like this, floating in a cloud of warmth and water that spectral presence is still with me. My paw slides down, but despite the warmth it is not the same. I open my eyes and turn the water off. Drying myself, I knowingly wipe away any trace of him that might still remain. Almost mournfully I clean myself up. Someone is knocking on my door, no not knocking, practically pounding interrupting my slow ritual. I grab a pair of boxers and some jeans I quickly slip on. 

	"Marv, what are you doing here?" 
"What am I doing here, what are you doing here? You're an hour late." As is his custom he simply walks past me into the room. "Wei is not going to be happy with that." He seems awfully chipper. I check my watch. 
"No I am not."
"Yes, you are. We were to arrive an hour earlier today to help with the setup of the stage? It's the price for leaving early last night."
"You didn't tell me." 
"Yes I did!"
"No... you didn't." Because if he did I would be sure to have pummelled the life out of him.
"Oh. It must have slipped my mind then." I roll my eyes. Too bad murder is a class A felony. 
He turns and looks at me. "Well?"
"What?" 
"We need to get going." For heaven's sake. 
"Let me get my shirt."


	For the first time in weeks there is not a moment I am thinking about Anne and what she is doing. I do not check MuzzleMag and that night I'm not scoping the club, or paying any real attention to the people on the other side of the bar. I ignore the girl who tries to pass me her phone number, but instead toss the slip of paper in the jar with all the others, which we mockingly call the 'tipping jar'. I do not reply to the doe who is giving me looks, gently motioning her head suggesting a quick walk out back, nor do I notice vixen who is trying to strike up a conversation. I serve drinks, pass around smiles and take in the cash. At the end of the night I can honestly say I have done nothing but my job. 

	Wei isn't satisfied however. "You were late." 
"I did not know I was supposed to come in early today."
"Doesn't matter, you were late." There is just no reasoning with this guy. 
"Fine." I have to do my best not to roll my eyes and aggravate him further. He has me stay longer and clean up all the beer bottles and spills from the dance floor. The whole place is empty and I'm still tired. Wei will have my head if I don't do a proper job, so I grit my teeth and keep on gathering bottles. I hear the jingling of glass and I notice Marv at the other side of the hall carrying stacks of glasses towards the kitchens. "I think that was intended as my job." I call after him. His head pops up from the kitchen. 
"Can't I just be a friend and help?"
I open my mouth to tell him that he doesn't do 'just being helpful as a friend', however if I don't accept it I'll be here till the crack of dawn, so I snap my mouth shut and just accept his help. Quietly we work alongside each other gathering all the crap people leave behind. Things would be a lot easier for us if they just cleaned up after themselves. 

	"Marv?"
"Yes, Rusky?"
I hesitate, trying carefully to formulate my question. "How do you know the people in The Glee Club?"
"You don't." Silence. "That's the point."
"So no-one ever finds out someone else's identity?"
"Never... well not unless they take of their mask."
"Has that happened?"
"Not with me. Most people go there exactly because they do not want to be recognised."
I gather more bottles which I toss into the large brown waste bin. Marv in the meantime moves over the dance floor with the giant mop leaving traces of mostly wetness that kind of cleans the floor. "How often do you go?" I try to sound casual, not at all interested in going again. Which I am not, well, not because I just want to have sex, but to... well you can figure that one out yourself. 
"I go whenever I feel like going, why?" I see the corners of his mouth creeping up in that tale tell smirk of his, revealing he has already figured out where I am going with this.
"But do they organise it every night or every week, or what?"
"You get an invite when the club is gathering for a... meeting."
"And how... did you find out about it?" 
"Same as you, a member took me... over there I mean." My ears are pushed back, and I feel that familiar burning sense. 
"How did you become a member?"
He stops what he is doing and looks at me, amusement making his eyes positively sparkle. "Why, were you interested in becoming a member?" I stay silent, unsure how to reply to that question. "Well, well, well, Mr Swiff Roderick Ostanoi, who would have thought!" Tucking my tail between my legs I lower my head, feeling myself blushing, a thing I haven't done since I was a pup.
"I was just wondering... being curious."
"Ah." But his eyes do not stop twinkling. "Well since you are 'just' asking me, being curious and all, I left a message saying I wanted to join."
"Left a message?"
"Of course, didn't you see those small cards being passed by those silver masked figures?"
I had seen the folks in the silver masks, but had figured them to be just a part of the collection of masked males and females. "They bring around messages. Like... postmen. You pass them a message and they pass it along to whomever you are sending it. Just name the person, or the colour of his mask, his position, anything. I left a card asking to join; telling them to give it to whomever was in charge, figuring he would pass it along."
"Is there a requirement?"
"Requirement?"
"Yeah like, I dunno, entrance fees or whatever?" 
He chuckles. "Well it is an exclusively male on male and female on female club, though there are the crossovers when things get heated. But mostly each sex stays on their own side. So, other than registering your preferences, favourite positions, and breed... no not really."
"So anyone can join?"
"Anyone who is interested..."
"No name or anything."
"Completely anonymous. Well apart from your references. As you might have noticed it is kind of an 'invite only' kind of group."

	In my mind the gears are spinning, as a road with hundreds of possibilities open. A part of me screams to slow down, to grant myself some time to figure things out, but something tugs at me, urges me on. This is absolutely ridiculous. I have one sexual encounter, and a hurried one at that, and I am already considering joining this club, that clearly revolves just around sex and other men, just to relive that one encounter, to stare once again into those unique blue eyes, to feel that gentle touch and that body moving under my fingertips. "Rusky, what is going on?"
I look up. He looks somewhat concerned at my silence, his eyes searching mine. 
"Nothing." I swallow the words that were just on the tip of my tongue. I shake my head giving him a small smile. "Just... Nothing."


	It is late in the afternoon and I need to leave for work in an hour or so. I'm nipping at my coffee that tastes like I dredged it out of the sewer. Must be something wrong with the machine, but I do not feel like replacing it. I don't know why. It is not like I feel any attachment to the damn thing. It's not the first coffeemaker I bought when I went out to live on my own; it's not a gift from my first girlfriend, nor is it anything special, just some crummy device I bought for 19,99 'cause I wanted coffee in the mornings. Why do I keep drinking this horrible coffee? It has been awful and disgusting for the last year or so, yet I still keep poisoning myself with it until I feel sick. It is not like all of the sudden it is going to produce good coffee because it won't, never truly has; never will. I dump the last bit of coffee into the sink. For a long moment I stand there staring at the coffeemaker. I yank out the plug and with a sweep of my arm wipe it into the garbage bin, glass carafe and all. Perhaps I'll try some tea tomorrow. I look at the bin. Either that or I'll just get myself a better coffeemaker. My tail swishes with satisfaction as I grab my coat. I'll guess I'll start with tea, that coffeemaker can come later.

	Wei eyes me suspiciously when I arrive about twenty minutes early. "You seem awfully satisfied with yourself. And... you are... early."
"Disappointed?" That is the first time I believe I see a genuine smirk grace that panda's face, which he, of course, quickly supresses, can't let the staff know what you are thinking and all. 
"Just get to work." I wave him off and head on in, the stacks of crates already waiting for me. Humming some tune I heard on the radio, and which has gotten stuck in my head, I set to work and am already halfway done when Sigrund arrives, who keeps her distance and eyes me suspiciously. "Afternoon."
"G'd Afternoon." She replies, taking her usual seat at the bar, taking out her binder with the V.I.P. guest list for that evening. While she goes over it, she keeps casting weary glances in my direction as I start stacking the bar for that evening. 

	"Hidey Hey, Hidey Ho! Whaddap Sistah?" Twist holds up her hand for a high five from Sigrund, who doesn't even look up from her papers. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging!" 
"Not gonna happen."
"Awww, don't be like that. Sistah needs some love!"
"You are talking like an idiot."
"What crawled up your ass and died?"
"You want fun and happy, talk to him, I'm busy."
I just re-emerged from the back room, fresh case of bourbon in my paws, finding Twist's eyes lock on me. Almost immediately her eyes narrow, scanning me. 
"What?"
"Ears up, tail swaying, smile playing around the lips... What has gotten you all perked up today?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"No, no, no, you are not fooling me. Something is up. For the first time in, what, weeks, I haven't seen you moping or pining for something. So spill it."
"Hi everyone!"
"Hey Marv."
"Hi."
"Hiya."
"So what we doing?"
"Interrogating Swiff here."
"Sounds like fun, what we trying to find out?"
"Guys nothing is wrong, I am just having a good day."
"Hah, LIAR!" I'm happy the bar is between me and her, because if it hadn't been, I might have lost an eye. 
"Be careful where you point that." I say, pushing her hand away from my face. 
"Then spill the beans, what made you so damn smug this morning." 
"Fine, you want to know, I got rid of the coffeemaker."
"What, you're happy 'cause you threw out your coffeemaker?"
"Wait is that a euphemism?"
"Yeah. Damn thing was brewing poison, tossed it out, made my freaking day."
"What you gonna drink in the mornings?"
"I dunno, tea, get a latte over on the way to work, maybe buy another coffeemaker, hell if I know. Just enjoying the fact I tossed the damn thing and I might do something different tomorrow."
Twist seems really disappointed with my revelation, while the others just chuckle at it. I don't care, I simply return to my work.

	"Oh before I forget," Marv stops me. The others look over his shoulder. "Someone gave this to me. I think they wrongly delivered it. I think it was meant for you." He hands me a small package. It's wrapped in brown paper. I take a whiff. Instantly my tail wiggles. I recognise that smell. He is observing me with a certain amount of amusement in his eyes. 
"Thanks Marv."
"You're welcome." He says, and completely unlike his normal self does not go into prying what it is or who it is from. The others, however, do not show me that courtesy. In fact the both of them look ready to rip it out of my paws if it was not so utterly unseemly to do so. Instead they wait for me to do it. I hesitate. That familiar feeling tugs at me, the same feeling I had when I was a pup and it was Christmas morning and I would rush down stairs and see the presents strewn out under the tree. I supress the urge with all my might, much to the disappointment of my co-workers, including Marv. 

	I take it home with me, carrying it under my arm while in my mind the same images keep playing over and over again. I remember everything, unlike countless other times I remember everything, every little detail as if someone etched it on the inside of my brain. His smell, the feeling of his fur against mine, his touch, his taste, it's all still there, and right now I am sure that, until I die, I will remember it. And I realize I am oddly at peace with all of this. I'm not suffering from some greater inside turmoil. I admit I am nervous, a feeling that digs its way into the pit of my stomach and squeezes, but not because of the fact he is a he, but more the fact that he is he, if that makes any sense. I feel stupid, having a crush on a guy I have only seen one time before, having talked with and kissed with, but it seems as irrational as the crush I had on Lucy, the cougar from primary school to whom I confessed my love after only having seen her once from across the schoolyard. She laughed, by the way, and pushed me to the floor, making me scrape my knee and cry.

	The question that remained, however, is how did he find Marv, or how did Marv get the package. It seems that the 'postmen' deliver things even after office hours. I had intended to ask Marv about it, but I didn't get the chance, or rather I forgot. I snatched up the package and practically fled the club with it as soon as I was able. I rummage in my pocket for my keys. My paws are shaking. Stop it! I tell myself. Relax, take a deep breath. I jam the key into the lock. That familiar click of the door springing open, I butt open the door. Kicking it shut behind me, I immediately head for the couch. The package is placed on the centre of the coffee table. Do I dare and open it? What would be in it? I know it is from him, or at least I think it is. The traces are faint but I am sure it is his smell. Perhaps it's just another guy using the same cologne, or shampoo or whatever. 

	For an excruciating moment I am torn between hope and doubt. Finding the courage I tear off the wrapper. The box is simple, plain, no adornments, white, cardboard. I open it. Carefully I reach in and take out its content. It is a mask, much like the one currently lying in the drawer of my nightstand, next to the stack of condoms and a jar of glycerine I use to keep my pads from tearing in the wintertime. The only difference between them is the colour; this one is a deep Prussian blue, while the other is a brighter shade of scarlet. And on this one there is a small stone, the same colour blue, set just between the eyes. My heart is beating in my throat. I lean forward taking a long whiff. He's there, stronger. He has touched this. My tail gives a joyful flick. But what does he want me to... A small card flutters down from where it had been wedged between the mask and its fastenings. I pick it up. It contains an address, and a time. I recognise it as being in the fancier parts of town. The card is typed and scentless, so no help there. Slowly I sink down back on the couch, both items in my paws. I turn the card over in my paws, but it contains no other hint. I stare at the message. Wednesday, 21.00h, Wheelerdrive, Number 12.
