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He likes to smoke, drink, and admire beautiful women that dance at the nightclub. One, in particular, Charlotte, is the glimmer of his eye. He cannot help but be drawn to her charm, a gem smoothed by life's challenges, and he means to take her back for some personal time.\n\nThumbnail art was provided by Duskwing (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/duskwing), and you can find the original here. https://www.furaffinity.net/view/23258744/\n\nStory is property of Me\n\nMature for nudity.","description_bbcode_parsed":"Fascal is a coyote of simple tastes. He likes to smoke, drink, and admire beautiful women that dance at the nightclub. One, in particular, Charlotte, is the glimmer of his eye. He cannot help but be drawn to her charm, a gem smoothed by life's challenges, and he means to take her back for some personal time.

Thumbnail art was provided by Duskwing (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/duskwing), and you can find the original here. https://www.furaffinity.net/view/23258744/

Story is property of Me

Mature for nudity.","writing":"Fascal was early for his weekly ritual at the gentleman's club, and he hated it. Everything in life always requires punctuality or better, but this was one place he absolutely hated the better. The smell was always more musty than usual, because the air conditioner had yet to move the air, and it was so eerily silent that he could hear his footsteps upon the carpet. The atmosphere was just too real and always made the illusion he came for take that much longer to establish its magic.\n\n\tWith a great sigh the coyote pulled a small paper box from his jacket pocket and with two firm shakes of his wrist managed to charm a cigarette from the hole in the top. It didn't take very long for the back end of it to find its way to his lips as he produced a lighter from his opposite pocket. With the kiss of butane and a brilliant flash below his nose, his maw filled with the familiar bite of smoke while his nose produced plumes of gray.\n\n\tFinding a seat at the bar, Fascal juggled the butt of his cigarette from one side of his lips to the other. He clasped his hands together and sat there with his back hunched while he examined the familiar patterns in the wood of the bar counter. The silence of the darkened place made him so self-conscious that he could almost feel his clothes around his fur.\n\n\t``You know this place turned into a non-smoking establishment about two months ago,'' said a voice Fascal had become all too familiar with. A brown and white ferret came out from behind the wall, around the other side of the bar. He began to put on a black apron.\n\n\t``Relax, Dennis. It will be gone before everyone else gets here,'' Fascal replied in a voice as dismal as his mood.\n\n\tThe ferret continued to look at the floor for a moment while his hands stayed behind his back. ``Yeah, but I don't own this place. Sooner or later we're going to have to enforce the rules full time.''\n\n\tFascal just sat there, pensive, for a moment. He finally broke his gaze on the smooth wood patterns and looked up at the drinks of the bar. He could barely make himself out in the mirror beyond all the bottles of cheap booze. It was tough to even make out his own image among all of the drink bottles that were filled with liquid as brown as his own fur. The fur on his muzzle, peeking out from behind a bottle of gin, was beginning to show signs of turning grey, and his nose was a dry black. His frame seemed thinner than usual, but he knew he carried that extra globe above his belt.\n\n\tA glass slid into the coyote's clasped hands and woke him up a little bit. The smell of whiskey nibbled the inner recesses of his nose. Two cubes of ice sang their jingle with each other while they enjoyed the sloshy end of their ride.\n\n\tPicking up the glass and tipping it in a half-assed toast toward the bartender, the coyote put the liquid to his lips and allowed the burning sensation to wake up his body slightly. He didn't bother to take the cigarette from his lips, instead allowing the lingering smoke in his mouth to make its choice between his nose and his belly as he drank.\n\n``Don't worry about it. You know I never smoke once the show starts,'' Fascal said.\n\n``And all the other times you show up before the show?''\n\n``Don't fuck with me, Dennis. Let me have my smoke.''\n\nDennis just shook his head and went back to preparing for the rest of the night, leaving Fascal to his own mind.\n\nAnother half hour passed without the brown coyote noticing. His mind wandered to his day at work, his money, and his broken life choices. Each journey into his memories made him take another sip. It didn't take long for one glass to turn into two. The cigarette that was in his maw turned to ash, and since there were no trays for him to discard his butt, he simply opted to feign putting it in his pocket and instead let it drop from his fingers to the floor below his stool.\n\nIt was probably harder to notice the amount of time and the slowly growing population when none of the bar stools next to him were being taken up by the furs entering in the front door. Almost everyone chose one of the tables, and the few that sat at the bar usually followed the two-seat-plus rule. The waitresses, as beautiful as they were supposed to be, were starting to come in and get to work talking to each other at the edge of the bar or taking some newcomer's order across the room.\n\nThere was a blue carpeted elevated catwalk in the center with a walkway that disappeared behind a black curtain in the back. It was your normal ``budget'' gentleman's club layout. Fitting for its sinful nature, the walkway split into two perpendicular half-walkways at about a third of the way down the center line, giving it the look of an upside-down cross that extended from the back of the room. It was for this reason that the place was aptly named ``Devil's Love''.\n\n``Back for another night of fun, sweetie?'' A familiar soft voice inquired close by. Fascal turned his head to see the familiar gray and white patched face of a floppy-eared bunny waitress, aged with eyes that had seen their share of sins. Her pink nose wiggled in what was probably the faint smell of smoke that still lingered on the front of the coyote's shirt. She was wearing the usual short purple skirt and shirt that was required of all the girls that worked there.\n\n``Yeah. Here for my weekly,'' he replied. Perhaps the darker atmosphere was making him tired. He certainly noticed it in his own voice, and forcefully cleared his throat to shake it.\n\n``Ok then! You just tell `ol Nadaline if you need anything, alright Fas?''\n\n``Sure thing.''\n\nShe walked away, leaving Fascal to almost feel his eyes sink back into his head with melancholy. He twisted in his seat with a turn that would let his backside meet the bar table. Before he knew it the muscle memory attached to his dark thoughts caused his hands to reach back into his pockets and produce another cigarette. Two flashes later and he was taking a long drag as if the stick would grant his deepest desire.\n\n``Put it out or get out! Last warning!'' Dennis shouted from behind the coyote, causing Fascal's tail to fluff in surprise.\n\n``Goddamn it, Dennis, fine,'' the coyote growled, almost slamming the cigarette in the glass behind him. The ashes hissed and swirled among what was left of the ice cubes. He slid off the stool onto his feet. ``I'm going to go look for a table before this show starts.''\n\n``Don't smoke there, either,'' the ferret quipped.\n\nFascal only held up his middle finger behind him as he stormed off toward the opposite end of the room. He was annoyed and his temper was flaring as much as his nostrils. It never took him long to get annoyed with Dennis, despite the fact that they seemed to spend at least some time together every week.\n\n\tAs if some divine power overhead empathized with his thoughts, the room began to dim as the lights were turned down. All of the social noise in the room began to quiet down in anticipation as the gentle sound of rushing air began to permeate the room. Fog began to rise up from the base of the catwalk in the center, and it didn't take long for the tendrils of smoke to begin reaching out to the chairs and feet that decorated the base of the room. The coyote found himself a seat at the very opposite corner of the room from the bar, where there was an empty table. His hands reached for a third cigarette almost out of habit, but then he stopped himself.\n\n\t``Gentleman! We thank you for coming to enjoy tonight's show,'' started the announced over the loudspeakers. \n\nFascal wasted no time drowning out the rest of the introduction. He was too busy watching all of the patrons in the room. It became a tradition for him to pick out the new guys, because they were always the first ones to look around for the ``DJ'', ``host'', or ``mixer'', or whatever else it was called. It was of high amusement to him, partially because he remembered his first time coming into a gentleman's club and doing the same thing. Seeing the inexperience, in a small way, made him feel younger, and made him smile a little to himself. It was also the enjoyment of knowing something they didn't, since the beginning announcer was just a recording.\n\n\t``Please put your hands together for Charlotte, Velvet, and Zera, everyone'' said Dennis from behind the bar, who was now holding a microphone and squirreling it somewhere below the bar the moment he was done. All of the swiveling heads quickly went still again, likely to have figured out the difference between a recording and a live message now that the voices had changed halfway through.\n\n\tIt didn't stop the cheering as soon as the first lady appeared out from behind the curtain.\n\n\tThis is what Fascal had been waiting for. He leaned back with a stupid grin as soon as the ladies came out, one behind the other. They all wore the same lace bras and bikinis that were only separate by color, and all of them as easily seen through as a store window covered in raindrops. \n\nCharlotte, a white feline with long hair that matched her body, wore crimson. One could almost mistake her for an albino if it wasn't for her green eyes. Everything else on her was pink. She was followed by Velvet, a sweet-looking smooth auburn vixen that wore blue and had all of the regular markings associated with her species. At the end came Zera, the exotic one of the bunch wearing green, who made a few eyes widen with there now being a literal elephant in the room.\n\nThe girls confidently strut their way down the walkway, their lips in sly smiles at the men who came to see their bodies unfold like morning flowers. It was clear that this was a party that they were used to participating in. The coyote knew their faces for the weeks they had been doing the same show on repeat for at least three nights every week for months. The only things that changed were the outfits.\n\nThings seemed to hesitate for a very brief moment when Charlotte took a hard left turn, leaving Velvet to take an ad-libbed step further into the center lane with a temporary gleam of confusion in her eyes. The men in the room likely didn't notice, save for Fascal. They were too busy cheering for the show they were about to be given with many a tongue rolled out for the visual banquet the eyes were ready to receive. Fascal was not above them, however.\n\nAll three girls waited for a moment, measuring the room below them. The audience collectively held their breath in preparation. Charlotte's green eyes scouted over all the faces, but lingered for a moment upon the coyote before continuing. \n\nFascal smiled almost devilishly. His prey noticed him, and somewhere in his gut a few butterflies fluttered to life. He leaned back in his chair with growing satisfaction, raking over the feline's body with his eyes. She was so beautiful.\n\nAs the loud boom of music erupted over the room, everything began to fade away. Fascal could not hold himself from sliding away from his environment. The music, as loud as it was, was just background noise. The occasional cheers from others in the room was a simple hiss to the coyote. The environment began to shift to a watercolor mural behind this lovely feline.\n\nCharlotte started her dance with a slow and seductive twisting squat upon the stage. Her slender arms reached behind her as she closed her eyes and licked her lips with that pink tongue. A few seconds later and her bra hung loose upon her breasts. It lingered for a moment, only allowing the nipples underneath to hold the lingerie in place as she rose with a slow wiggle from side to side.\n\nFascal's eyes pried apart every movement and every muscle of the feline. He barely noticed himself leaning forward in his chair, his elbows meeting the table, as the white feline did a slow twirl and the loose bra fell upon the stage behind her. With an arm she obscured her mounds while the other floated in the air beside her, facing her audience once more.\n\nThe tempo of the music increased. A song the coyote did not know. The girls on the stage began to increase their swaying dance to time with the rhythm. All he could see was the feline leaning her head back so that her hair fell behind her, and her obscuring arm finally laying bare her pink nipples. \n\nThe butterflies fluttered in his stomach again.\n\nCharlotte squatted and leaned back, her arms falling behind to catch her. Her legs still bent, it allowed every man in the room to see the curves between her thighs. Fascal could see that familiar sliver of shadow between the bumps obscured by the fabric.\n\nEvery woman on the stage was choreographed in unison. It was clear that even though this gentleman's club wasn't one of the best, the girls at least took some care with their work. They gyrated together in such a way that every audience member got the same show from a different perspective. The coyote barely noticed some of the men shifting around to get a better glimpse of their preferred entertainer. He, however, had no intention of moving yet.\n\nCharlotte lay herself down upon the stage with her back flat for a moment. She lifted one leg high into the air and her torso up, reaching forward to allow her paws to slowly caress her ankle down to her slowly bending knee as her foot floated back down. She repeated the action with the other leg, and then slowly raised both. Her breasts lay relaxed upon her, nipples rigidly pointing at the ceiling, as she splayed herself out to the audience before her.\n\nIt did not come without gratuity, of course.\n\n\tAs the ladies did their dance the others in their room were getting restless. A few men would come up and slip some money into the straps when they saw something they particularly liked. The waitresses were busy going to and fro around the room with their drink orders. The lights pulsed and the slight mist around the base of the stage made the room glow and flash a myriad of colors with a seemingly random selection. It made the floor almost seem watercolor.\n\nThe coyote could feel his cheeks grow hot as his eyes drank in Charlotte's performance, however. Despite all of the noise and buzzing, his eyes knew only her. He leaned back in his seat to rediscover the tightness of his pants. While everything had seemed to melt away for a brief moment, the rise at his crotched throbbed off beat to the music in the room.\n\nA few fancy moves later, ones that Fascal could only dream of performing with such flexibility, and Charlotte had risen from the floor. The straps of her panties were already being lined with money as she bounced. \n\nHe smiled a bit more smugly than he should have.\n\nCharlotte lowered herself down on the stage and soon lay upon her belly, squishing her bare breasts beneath her. Her rear remained high up in the air, and her tail flagged with that slight feline curl at the end. The men on the same side of the room let out a cheer so loud it sounded like overly loud television static, and a few of them immediately got up to give more money to those straps that kept her lower half somewhat covered and mysterious.\n\nThe white feline let her hair droop over her shoulders as she made the motion of crawling to the end of the stage like the predator that she was. As soon as she got to the end she looked directly at Fascal with bright eyes and gave him a slow wink. Her lips curled into a smirk that could melt the most confident of men, and she extended one hand so that she could curl her index finger toward the coyote. A few of the others in the vicinity gave a short `ooh' before cheering once more. It was apparent that the coyote was singled out.\n\nHowever, for Fascal, that was his moment to swallow whatever he had left in his maw and get up from his table. He scooted his chair behind him with the backs of his knees and left without a word, walking away from Charlotte and her show of seduction. He barely made out a ``I'd never do that to ya, baby'' from one of the men as he set his new goal.\n\nHis vision tunneled as the coyote walked across the room to the bar, where he had started his night in this place. His plan was for a drink of a different kind, this time. He had his eyes set on the two hallways that hid in the corner of the room next to the bartender's counter.\n\n``Bathroom?'' The bartender stood there, cleaning a glass and looking rather cliche. He had a noticeable smirk on his face.\n\n``No, Dennis.''\n\n ``Have your sights set, already?''\n\n``Been here for a while. I think you already know the answer to that.''\n\n``Of course.''\n\nFascal started reaching for his wallet when Dennis held up an open-faced palm, shaking his head.\n\n``You've been coming here for weeks. I can let you have this one on the house, tonight, since you've become such a familiar face,'' said the ferret, putting away his freshly cleaned glass.\n\n``You offering reward points now?'' Fascal left his wallet to fall back into his pocket as he stood there. It was odd for Dennis to refuse money.\n\n``Nope. But I may start as long as you don't light up in here anymore.''\n\nFascal paused for a moment, recognizing the little verbal jab. Yet in the end he just sighed and shook his head. ``Fine. You got me.''\n\nThe ferret picked up another glass and began cleaning its rim. ``Charlotte will be in as soon as her dance is finished. I'll send her to the second room.''\n\nThe coyote gave a nod and headed for the first archway to the left. Along the left side were two arches, their contents beyond obscured by drawn black curtains. The roar of the cheers behind him became more funneled by the hallway as he passed by the first. At the end he pushed through the curtain to enter the second room, where he knew his prize would come see him.\n\nThe room was padded in faux red leather, and matched the movie tropes a little too closely. It was a simple square. About eight feet across, at Fascal's guess. It wasn't too fancy and well reflected the budget the rest of the building was on. ``Do with what you can'', he often thought to himself when he entered these now-familiar rooms.\n\nCurtains don't provide perfect obscurity from the rest of the world, and when the noise was particularly loud in the club he could hear it. It was both a curse and a benefit, considering he always knew when he should be expecting his ``private dance''. While somewhat garbled, he could always pick out Dennis's voice announcing the end of one show and the beginning of another.\n\nThe brown canid began to fidget in a mixture of anticipation and boredom. He thought about Charlotte's dance and, before he knew it, his pants began to tighten once more. Cheers from beyond announced the arrival of more entertainment, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he had his prey.\n\n``One of my favorite regulars, huh?'' came a sultry female voice from the other side of the curtain.\n\nCharlotte quickly jerked the curtain from the door's frame and then let it flutter back into place as she stepped into the room. She was face to face with her private party. ``Another show for you, honey? You never seem to get tired of me.''\n\n``And I never will,'' Fascal retorted with a smirk, grabbing the feline by the hand and pulling her close to him. It was a long-practiced ``movie move'' he liked to perform, like the hero with his damsel. She may be his prey, but she at least deserved a little respect. \n\nHe reached into his pocket and, before she could regain herself, took out a small gold band and placed it around her ring finger.\n\n``Mmf, must you insist on that here?'' Charlotte asked with a smirk, pressing into the coyote a little more to pin him back against his seat. She squished her still-naked breasts upon him. Her perked nipples tickled his fur from the other side of his shirt fabric.\n\n``Honestly? I wish you'd wear it when you danced.''\n\n``But you know I'd make less money if I did. Those boys don't like a claimed girl on the stage.''\n\n``Yeah, and I know they paid you half of their usual last time you wore it. But maybe you could wear it when I'm in the house?''\n\n``Every night is a better night when I don't. Even when you're here.''\n\nFascal sighed and wrapped his arms tightly around his prize. She leaned against him while her legs straddled his lap slowly until her knees bore her weight on the faux leather cushions to either side of him. They both just stayed with each other for a moment, enjoying the smells and warmth of the other. Minutes passed without a word.\n\n``Still think this is better?'' Fascal asked in a gentle whisper into Charlotte's ear.\n\n``It's what I'm good at right now,'' Charlotte replied in an equally hushed tone, and began to lean back so that they two could face each other once more.\n\nThe brown coyote could not help himself a gentle peck upon the lips of the feline in front of him. She was so different up close. She had the lines of tiredness below her eyes, and the pink of her nose was a little less so now than when they first met. Her hair showed evidence of fraying at the tips as he brushed through it with his fingers. She always brushed it so well before a show.\n\n``I would rather you in this life than the one we left,'' Fascal replied, looking into Charlotte's eyes.\n\nCharlotte, however, could not keep her gaze for very long. Whether it was shame or guilt, perhaps both which led her astray from Fascal's face, he did not know. Whatever the case was she let the bright eyes he knew fade into a memory for a moment.\n\n``We, the only two,'' she replied after a few more seconds.\n\nFascal was quick to snap her back to reality with a finger upon her chin. ``Fate set upon us by our friends.''\n\n``By our friends,'' Charlotte repeated quietly.\n\n``And now I'm working over at the lumber yard. You're here making five times more in twenty minutes than I can in a whole day. At least both of us work with wood. Yours is just a little different than mine.''\n\nCharlotte let out a chuckle and shook her head. Her smile brought back every bit of life that Fascal lost during the day.\n\n``Besides, you're so much cuter when you're sober,'' the coyote finished with a smile that was quickly rewarded with another kiss.\n\nAs their lips met, Fascal's thoughts were in the memory that he and Charlotte shared. His mind flashed to the junkies that he and Charlotte once were. They both loved the friends, and opioids that were ruining their lives.\n\n``It's not normal for us to have this discussion here, you know,'' Charlotte said to snap him out of his memory. She rescued him as often as he rescued her, in these moments.\n\n``I know, baby,'' he said, and smiled.\n\n``You pay for a dance, but-``\n\n``Dennis let me have one for free tonight. And besides, I would pay as much as I needed to get to see you. We work on different schedules, half the time.''\n\n``That bastard,'' the white feline said with a wide smirk upon her lips.\n\n``Tell me about it,'' he replied with a chuckle. ``Besides, I know I can have as many dances I want at home, as long as our little girl isn't around.''\n\n``Which she always is.''\n\n``Hmm, well, she's proof that I get more of you than any guy in this place ever will.''\n\nCharlotte let out another one of her cute chuckles and simply began to sway with Fascal there in the seat. They enjoyed each other's company, with few words, for another half hour before Charlotte had to leave. She kept the ring on as she exited beyond the curtain, leaving Fascal to follow her shortly after he allowed himself a little more room in his pants to move.\n\nThe dances were still going on as Fascal rounded the corner at the bar. He simply gave a nod to Dennis, who returned in kind, before he made for the exit. He only recognized the girls on the stage as those who came before or after his favorite.\n\nAs soon as the coyote found himself out in the open air once more he gave a sigh. He conjured up another cigarette and quickly lit it, and stared out into the darkened parking lot with a wandering mind.\n\n``Dwayne-boy, thank you,'' Fascal uttered to himself with a soft breath. He took a puff on his cigarette and let his mind wander to the morning he and Charlotte woke to find each other. Dwayne never woke up, and neither did Charlotte's friend Vivian. A junky party that ended with lives taken made way for the survivors to find one another.\n\nThe smoke in the coyote's mouth twirled around his cheeks as he shook his head free. Those times were gone, and while thankful he could only wish things were different. Would things be as bright for Vivian and Dwayne if the places had swapped?\n\nFascal walked into the gaze of the street lamps that led his way down the sidewalk. His mind would forever be occupied, and yet, he hoped, so would the home that he and his wife had created together from the ashes of the life they left behind.\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Fascal was early for his weekly ritual at the gentleman's club, and he hated it. Everything in life always requires punctuality or better, but this was one place he absolutely hated the better. The smell was always more musty than usual, because the air conditioner had yet to move the air, and it was so eerily silent that he could hear his footsteps upon the carpet. The atmosphere was just too real and always made the illusion he came for take that much longer to establish its magic.

\tWith a great sigh the coyote pulled a small paper box from his jacket pocket and with two firm shakes of his wrist managed to charm a cigarette from the hole in the top. It didn't take very long for the back end of it to find its way to his lips as he produced a lighter from his opposite pocket. With the kiss of butane and a brilliant flash below his nose, his maw filled with the familiar bite of smoke while his nose produced plumes of gray.

\tFinding a seat at the bar, Fascal juggled the butt of his cigarette from one side of his lips to the other. He clasped his hands together and sat there with his back hunched while he examined the familiar patterns in the wood of the bar counter. The silence of the darkened place made him so self-conscious that he could almost feel his clothes around his fur.

\t``You know this place turned into a non-smoking establishment about two months ago,'' said a voice Fascal had become all too familiar with. A brown and white ferret came out from behind the wall, around the other side of the bar. He began to put on a black apron.

\t``Relax, Dennis. It will be gone before everyone else gets here,'' Fascal replied in a voice as dismal as his mood.

\tThe ferret continued to look at the floor for a moment while his hands stayed behind his back. ``Yeah, but I don't own this place. Sooner or later we're going to have to enforce the rules full time.''

\tFascal just sat there, pensive, for a moment. He finally broke his gaze on the smooth wood patterns and looked up at the drinks of the bar. He could barely make himself out in the mirror beyond all the bottles of cheap booze. It was tough to even make out his own image among all of the drink bottles that were filled with liquid as brown as his own fur. The fur on his muzzle, peeking out from behind a bottle of gin, was beginning to show signs of turning grey, and his nose was a dry black. His frame seemed thinner than usual, but he knew he carried that extra globe above his belt.

\tA glass slid into the coyote's clasped hands and woke him up a little bit. The smell of whiskey nibbled the inner recesses of his nose. Two cubes of ice sang their jingle with each other while they enjoyed the sloshy end of their ride.

\tPicking up the glass and tipping it in a half-assed toast toward the bartender, the coyote put the liquid to his lips and allowed the burning sensation to wake up his body slightly. He didn't bother to take the cigarette from his lips, instead allowing the lingering smoke in his mouth to make its choice between his nose and his belly as he drank.

``Don't worry about it. You know I never smoke once the show starts,'' Fascal said.

``And all the other times you show up before the show?''

``Don't fuck with me, Dennis. Let me have my smoke.''

Dennis just shook his head and went back to preparing for the rest of the night, leaving Fascal to his own mind.

Another half hour passed without the brown coyote noticing. His mind wandered to his day at work, his money, and his broken life choices. Each journey into his memories made him take another sip. It didn't take long for one glass to turn into two. The cigarette that was in his maw turned to ash, and since there were no trays for him to discard his butt, he simply opted to feign putting it in his pocket and instead let it drop from his fingers to the floor below his stool.

It was probably harder to notice the amount of time and the slowly growing population when none of the bar stools next to him were being taken up by the furs entering in the front door. Almost everyone chose one of the tables, and the few that sat at the bar usually followed the two-seat-plus rule. The waitresses, as beautiful as they were supposed to be, were starting to come in and get to work talking to each other at the edge of the bar or taking some newcomer's order across the room.

There was a blue carpeted elevated catwalk in the center with a walkway that disappeared behind a black curtain in the back. It was your normal ``budget'' gentleman's club layout. Fitting for its sinful nature, the walkway split into two perpendicular half-walkways at about a third of the way down the center line, giving it the look of an upside-down cross that extended from the back of the room. It was for this reason that the place was aptly named ``Devil's Love''.

``Back for another night of fun, sweetie?'' A familiar soft voice inquired close by. Fascal turned his head to see the familiar gray and white patched face of a floppy-eared bunny waitress, aged with eyes that had seen their share of sins. Her pink nose wiggled in what was probably the faint smell of smoke that still lingered on the front of the coyote's shirt. She was wearing the usual short purple skirt and shirt that was required of all the girls that worked there.

``Yeah. Here for my weekly,'' he replied. Perhaps the darker atmosphere was making him tired. He certainly noticed it in his own voice, and forcefully cleared his throat to shake it.

``Ok then! You just tell `ol Nadaline if you need anything, alright Fas?''

``Sure thing.''

She walked away, leaving Fascal to almost feel his eyes sink back into his head with melancholy. He twisted in his seat with a turn that would let his backside meet the bar table. Before he knew it the muscle memory attached to his dark thoughts caused his hands to reach back into his pockets and produce another cigarette. Two flashes later and he was taking a long drag as if the stick would grant his deepest desire.

``Put it out or get out! Last warning!'' Dennis shouted from behind the coyote, causing Fascal's tail to fluff in surprise.

``Goddamn it, Dennis, fine,'' the coyote growled, almost slamming the cigarette in the glass behind him. The ashes hissed and swirled among what was left of the ice cubes. He slid off the stool onto his feet. ``I'm going to go look for a table before this show starts.''

``Don't smoke there, either,'' the ferret quipped.

Fascal only held up his middle finger behind him as he stormed off toward the opposite end of the room. He was annoyed and his temper was flaring as much as his nostrils. It never took him long to get annoyed with Dennis, despite the fact that they seemed to spend at least some time together every week.

\tAs if some divine power overhead empathized with his thoughts, the room began to dim as the lights were turned down. All of the social noise in the room began to quiet down in anticipation as the gentle sound of rushing air began to permeate the room. Fog began to rise up from the base of the catwalk in the center, and it didn't take long for the tendrils of smoke to begin reaching out to the chairs and feet that decorated the base of the room. The coyote found himself a seat at the very opposite corner of the room from the bar, where there was an empty table. His hands reached for a third cigarette almost out of habit, but then he stopped himself.

\t``Gentleman! We thank you for coming to enjoy tonight's show,'' started the announced over the loudspeakers.

Fascal wasted no time drowning out the rest of the introduction. He was too busy watching all of the patrons in the room. It became a tradition for him to pick out the new guys, because they were always the first ones to look around for the ``DJ'', ``host'', or ``mixer'', or whatever else it was called. It was of high amusement to him, partially because he remembered his first time coming into a gentleman's club and doing the same thing. Seeing the inexperience, in a small way, made him feel younger, and made him smile a little to himself. It was also the enjoyment of knowing something they didn't, since the beginning announcer was just a recording.

\t``Please put your hands together for Charlotte, Velvet, and Zera, everyone'' said Dennis from behind the bar, who was now holding a microphone and squirreling it somewhere below the bar the moment he was done. All of the swiveling heads quickly went still again, likely to have figured out the difference between a recording and a live message now that the voices had changed halfway through.

\tIt didn't stop the cheering as soon as the first lady appeared out from behind the curtain.

\tThis is what Fascal had been waiting for. He leaned back with a stupid grin as soon as the ladies came out, one behind the other. They all wore the same lace bras and bikinis that were only separate by color, and all of them as easily seen through as a store window covered in raindrops.

Charlotte, a white feline with long hair that matched her body, wore crimson. One could almost mistake her for an albino if it wasn't for her green eyes. Everything else on her was pink. She was followed by Velvet, a sweet-looking smooth auburn vixen that wore blue and had all of the regular markings associated with her species. At the end came Zera, the exotic one of the bunch wearing green, who made a few eyes widen with there now being a literal elephant in the room.

The girls confidently strut their way down the walkway, their lips in sly smiles at the men who came to see their bodies unfold like morning flowers. It was clear that this was a party that they were used to participating in. The coyote knew their faces for the weeks they had been doing the same show on repeat for at least three nights every week for months. The only things that changed were the outfits.

Things seemed to hesitate for a very brief moment when Charlotte took a hard left turn, leaving Velvet to take an ad-libbed step further into the center lane with a temporary gleam of confusion in her eyes.  The men in the room likely didn't notice, save for Fascal. They were too busy cheering for the show they were about to be given with many a tongue rolled out for the visual banquet the eyes were ready to receive. Fascal was not above them, however.

All three girls waited for a moment, measuring the room below them. The audience collectively held their breath in preparation. Charlotte's green eyes scouted over all the faces, but lingered for a moment upon the coyote before continuing.

Fascal smiled almost devilishly. His prey noticed him, and somewhere in his gut a few butterflies fluttered to life. He leaned back in his chair with growing satisfaction, raking over the feline's body with his eyes. She was so beautiful.

As the loud boom of music erupted over the room, everything began to fade away. Fascal could not hold himself from sliding away from his environment. The music, as loud as it was, was just background noise. The occasional cheers from others in the room was a simple hiss to the coyote. The environment began to shift to a watercolor mural behind this lovely feline.

Charlotte started her dance with a slow and seductive twisting squat upon the stage. Her slender arms reached behind her as she closed her eyes and licked her lips with that pink tongue. A few seconds later and her bra hung loose upon her breasts. It lingered for a moment, only allowing the nipples underneath to hold the lingerie in place as she rose with a slow wiggle from side to side.

Fascal's eyes pried apart every movement and every muscle of the feline. He barely noticed himself leaning forward in his chair, his elbows meeting the table, as the white feline did a slow twirl and the loose bra fell upon the stage behind her. With an arm she obscured her mounds while the other floated in the air beside her, facing her audience once more.

The tempo of the music increased. A song the coyote did not know. The girls on the stage began to increase their swaying dance to time with the rhythm. All he could see was the feline leaning her head back so that her hair fell behind her, and her obscuring arm finally laying bare her pink nipples.

The butterflies fluttered in his stomach again.

Charlotte squatted and leaned back, her arms falling behind to catch her. Her legs still bent, it allowed every man in the room to see the curves between her thighs. Fascal could see that familiar sliver of shadow between the bumps obscured by the fabric.

Every woman on the stage was choreographed in unison. It was clear that even though this gentleman's club wasn't one of the best, the girls at least took some care with their work. They gyrated together in such a way that every audience member got the same show from a different perspective. The coyote barely noticed some of the men shifting around to get a better glimpse of their preferred entertainer. He, however, had no intention of moving yet.

Charlotte lay herself down upon the stage with her back flat for a moment. She lifted one leg high into the air and her torso up, reaching forward to allow her paws to slowly caress her ankle down to her slowly bending knee as her foot floated back down. She repeated the action with the other leg, and then slowly raised both. Her breasts lay relaxed upon her, nipples rigidly pointing at the ceiling, as she splayed herself out to the audience before her.

It did not come without gratuity, of course.

\tAs the ladies did their dance the others in their room were getting restless. A few men would come up and slip some money into the straps when they saw something they particularly liked. The waitresses were busy going to and fro around the room with their drink orders. The lights pulsed and the slight mist around the base of the stage made the room glow and flash a myriad of colors with a seemingly random selection. It made the floor almost seem watercolor.

The coyote could feel his cheeks grow hot as his eyes drank in Charlotte's performance, however. Despite all of the noise and buzzing, his eyes knew only her. He leaned back in his seat to rediscover the tightness of his pants. While everything had seemed to melt away for a brief moment, the rise at his crotched throbbed off beat to the music in the room.

A few fancy moves later, ones that Fascal could only dream of performing with such flexibility, and Charlotte had risen from the floor. The straps of her panties were already being lined with money as she bounced.

He smiled a bit more smugly than he should have.

Charlotte lowered herself down on the stage and soon lay upon her belly, squishing her bare breasts beneath her. Her rear remained high up in the air, and her tail flagged with that slight feline curl at the end. The men on the same side of the room let out a cheer so loud it sounded like overly loud television static, and a few of them immediately got up to give more money to those straps that kept her lower half somewhat covered and mysterious.

The white feline let her hair droop over her shoulders as she made the motion of crawling to the end of the stage like the predator that she was. As soon as she got to the end she looked directly at Fascal with bright eyes and gave him a slow wink. Her lips curled into a smirk that could melt the most confident of men, and she extended one hand so that she could curl her index finger toward the coyote. A few of the others in the vicinity gave a short `ooh' before cheering once more. It was apparent that the coyote was singled out.

However, for Fascal, that was his moment to swallow whatever he had left in his maw and get up from his table. He scooted his chair behind him with the backs of his knees and left without a word, walking away from Charlotte and her show of seduction. He barely made out a ``I'd never do that to ya, baby'' from one of the men as he set his new goal.

His vision tunneled as the coyote walked across the room to the bar, where he had started his night in this place. His plan was for a drink of a different kind, this time. He had his eyes set on the two hallways that hid in the corner of the room next to the bartender's counter.

``Bathroom?'' The bartender stood there, cleaning a glass and looking rather cliche. He had a noticeable smirk on his face.

``No, Dennis.''

 ``Have your sights set, already?''

``Been here for a while. I think you already know the answer to that.''

``Of course.''

Fascal started reaching for his wallet when Dennis held up an open-faced palm, shaking his head.

``You've been coming here for weeks. I can let you have this one on the house, tonight, since you've become such a familiar face,'' said the ferret, putting away his freshly cleaned glass.

``You offering reward points now?'' Fascal left his wallet to fall back into his pocket as he stood there. It was odd for Dennis to refuse money.

``Nope. But I may start as long as you don't light up in here anymore.''

Fascal paused for a moment, recognizing the little verbal jab. Yet in the end he just sighed and shook his head. ``Fine. You got me.''

The ferret picked up another glass and began cleaning its rim. ``Charlotte will be in as soon as her dance is finished. I'll send her to the second room.''

The coyote gave a nod and headed for the first archway to the left. Along the left side were two arches, their contents beyond obscured by drawn black curtains. The roar of the cheers behind him became more funneled by the hallway as he passed by the first. At the end he pushed through the curtain to enter the second room, where he knew his prize would come see him.

The room was padded in faux red leather, and matched the movie tropes a little too closely. It was a simple square. About eight feet across, at Fascal's guess. It wasn't too fancy and well reflected the budget the rest of the building was on. ``Do with what you can'', he often thought to himself when he entered these now-familiar rooms.

Curtains don't provide perfect obscurity from the rest of the world, and when the noise was particularly loud in the club he could hear it. It was both a curse and a benefit, considering he always knew when he should be expecting his ``private dance''. While somewhat garbled, he could always pick out Dennis's voice announcing the end of one show and the beginning of another.

The brown canid began to fidget in a mixture of anticipation and boredom. He thought about Charlotte's dance and, before he knew it, his pants began to tighten once more. Cheers from beyond announced the arrival of more entertainment, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he had his prey.

``One of my favorite regulars, huh?'' came a sultry female voice from the other side of the curtain.

Charlotte quickly jerked the curtain from the door's frame and then let it flutter back into place as she stepped into the room. She was face to face with her private party. ``Another show for you, honey? You never seem to get tired of me.''

``And I never will,'' Fascal retorted with a smirk, grabbing the feline by the hand and pulling her close to him. It was a long-practiced ``movie move'' he liked to perform, like the hero with his damsel. She may be his prey, but she at least deserved a little respect.

He reached into his pocket and, before she could regain herself, took out a small gold band and placed it around her ring finger.

``Mmf, must you insist on that here?'' Charlotte asked with a smirk, pressing into the coyote a little more to pin him back against his seat. She squished her still-naked breasts upon him. Her perked nipples tickled his fur from the other side of his shirt fabric.

``Honestly? I wish you'd wear it when you danced.''

``But you know I'd make less money if I did. Those boys don't like a claimed girl on the stage.''

``Yeah, and I know they paid you half of their usual last time you wore it. But maybe you could wear it when I'm in the house?''

``Every night is a better night when I don't. Even when you're here.''

Fascal sighed and wrapped his arms tightly around his prize. She leaned against him while her legs straddled his lap slowly until her knees bore her weight on the faux leather cushions to either side of him. They both just stayed with each other for a moment, enjoying the smells and warmth of the other. Minutes passed without a word.

``Still think this is better?'' Fascal asked in a gentle whisper into Charlotte's ear.

``It's what I'm good at right now,'' Charlotte replied in an equally hushed tone, and began to lean back so that they two could face each other once more.

The brown coyote could not help himself a gentle peck upon the lips of the feline in front of him. She was so different up close. She had the lines of tiredness below her eyes, and the pink of her nose was a little less so now than when they first met. Her hair showed evidence of fraying at the tips as he brushed through it with his fingers. She always brushed it so well before a show.

``I would rather you in this life than the one we left,'' Fascal replied, looking into Charlotte's eyes.

Charlotte, however, could not keep her gaze for very long. Whether it was shame or guilt, perhaps both which led her astray from Fascal's face, he did not know. Whatever the case was she let the bright eyes he knew fade into a memory for a moment.

``We, the only two,'' she replied after a few more seconds.

Fascal was quick to snap her back to reality with a finger upon her chin. ``Fate set upon us by our friends.''

``By our friends,'' Charlotte repeated quietly.

``And now I'm working over at the lumber yard. You're here making five times more in twenty minutes than I can in a whole day. At least both of us work with wood. Yours is just a little different than mine.''

Charlotte let out a chuckle and shook her head. Her smile brought back every bit of life that Fascal lost during the day.

``Besides, you're so much cuter when you're sober,'' the coyote finished with a smile that was quickly rewarded with another kiss.

As their lips met, Fascal's thoughts were in the memory that he and Charlotte shared. His mind flashed to the junkies that he and Charlotte once were. They both loved the friends, and opioids that were ruining their lives.

``It's not normal for us to have this discussion here, you know,'' Charlotte said to snap him out of his memory. She rescued him as often as he rescued her, in these moments.

``I know, baby,'' he said, and smiled.

``You pay for a dance, but-``

``Dennis let me have one for free tonight. And besides, I would pay as much as I needed to get to see you. We work on different schedules, half the time.''

``That bastard,'' the white feline said with a wide smirk upon her lips.

``Tell me about it,'' he replied with a chuckle. ``Besides, I know I can have as many dances I want at home, as long as our little girl isn't around.''

``Which she always is.''

``Hmm, well, she's proof that I get more of you than any guy in this place ever will.''

Charlotte let out another one of her cute chuckles and simply began to sway with Fascal there in the seat. They enjoyed each other's company, with few words, for another half hour before Charlotte had to leave. She kept the ring on as she exited beyond the curtain, leaving Fascal to follow her shortly after he allowed himself a little more room in his pants to move.

The dances were still going on as Fascal rounded the corner at the bar. He simply gave a nod to Dennis, who returned in kind, before he made for the exit. He only recognized the girls on the stage as those who came before or after his favorite.

As soon as the coyote found himself out in the open air once more he gave a sigh. He conjured up another cigarette and quickly lit it, and stared out into the darkened parking lot with a wandering mind.

``Dwayne-boy, thank you,'' Fascal uttered to himself with a soft breath. He took a puff on his cigarette and let his mind wander to the morning he and Charlotte woke to find each other. Dwayne never woke up, and neither did Charlotte's friend Vivian. A junky party that ended with lives taken made way for the survivors to find one another.

The smoke in the coyote's mouth twirled around his cheeks as he shook his head free. Those times were gone, and while thankful he could only wish things were different. Would things be as bright for Vivian and Dwayne if the places had swapped?

Fascal walked into the gaze of the street lamps that led his way down the sidewalk. His mind would forever be occupied, and yet, he hoped, so would the home that he and his wife had created together from the ashes of the life they left behind.

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