* * *
He set a large, furry hand on the doorknob, and steeled himself for the encounter with whomever was in the room. He resolved that if they truly were ashamed of him, he'd have to face their disappointment sooner or later, and opened the door. His hands dropped to his sides and his eyes widened with wonder and astonishment. "OH...my...!..." The first thing he noticed was the orange fur. The second thing was the orange and black striped tail. Both were dancing and shimmying around the room, oblivious to his presence. The fur's owner spun around, and he saw that her eyes were closed and she was mouthing the words to whatever song was playing on the discman tucked into the waistband of her high-cut denim shorts. She had a feather duster in one hand and a broom in the other, the handle of which she was using as a microphone. He tried to act, to think, but discovered that his mind had suddenly gone on an unauthorized vacation to somewhere a zillion miles away. Long, dark orange hair surrounded her face, which was a mixture of human and tiger features (and was not at all unattractive). Her chest was ample and he felt his eyes being helplessly drawn down to the curvaceous hips that swung from side to side in time with the music. Based on the way she was moving, Hank surmised that she had to be an exotic dancer of some kind. Or maybe it was just her feline influence coming through. He couldn't stop himself as his eyes followed her every sensuous movement around the room. She was completely uninhibited, simply enjoying the movement of her body as she danced to the music. A stern voice struggled through the fog in McCoy's brain. Say something, you fatuous oaf! Don't just stand there staring at her like some perverted, blue-furred cretin! He was about to open his mouth and attempt to say something intelligent when she suddenly lunged to the floor and slid on her knees toward him, legs stretched wide apart and holding the 'microphone' to her mouth. He looked down at her and was unwittingly treated to a full view down the front of her tanktop, right to her navel. Her eyelids lifted a crack. They widened immensely when she saw the pair of large blue feet in front of her. Slowly, she looked up...waaaaay up. By the time her eyes had reached his face, they were almost bursting their sockets. Hank blinked. Then he blinked again. "Um....hi?" was all that he could manage to say. Yes, that was extreeeeeeemly intelligent, Hank. A muted, embarrassed whimper escaped her lips which Hank unfortunately mistook for terror. She swung her knees together with a resounding 'SLAP!'. Both broom and feather duster clattered to the floor as she jumped up onto her feet in a tremendous effort to right herself and bolt out the other door before she died of embarrassment. * * * |