Chapter 4

5 minutes to 10 minutes

Ruth

The yellowish glow of the street lamp outside seeped through the grimy windows, casting distorted shadows across the gritty hotel room. The stench of cheap cologne and the lingering odor of bodily fluids permeated the air, mixing with the damp, musty scent of the worn-out carpet. The room was small and sparse, with unassuming wallpaper and a bed that groaned with every movement. I lay there, my russet fur matted and sticky from the night’s work, feeling hollow, used and utterly alone.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, the mattress springs protesting under my slight weight. My amber eyes, dulled by fatigue and resignation, scanned the room. I reached over to the small nightstand and pulled open the drawer, retrieving a small baggy of powder lying beside the punisher. I had told myself I’d only use it when I had enough money to keep this roof over my head, but tonight, that promise felt empty. Survival wasn’t enough I needed to escape, to forget, if only for a little while.

I laid out a line of the sparkly powder on the nightstand with practiced hands, though they trembled slightly. It wasn’t withdrawal that made them shake, but the desperate anticipation of the high that would pull me away from this grim reality. Leaning down, my nose close to the surface, I inhaled deeply. The burn was sharp and immediate, but it was quickly replaced by a creeping warmth, the euphoria began to spread through my body like a soft, comforting wave. I exhaled slowly, letting the drug take hold, feeling my muscles loosen as my mind began to drift.

I leaned back onto the stained bed, eyes half-closed as the drug washed over me. My hands slid down my sides, tracing the curves of my slender body, enjoying the softness of my fur. This wasn’t like the cold, indifferent touch of a client it was mine, searching for something real, something that had been missing for so long. My encounters with clients were mechanical, devoid of any true feeling. But now, in this haze, I sought something pure, something I could control. My hand slipped between my legs, desperate to reclaim the pleasure that my choices had denied me.

As the sensations built within me, a memory surfaced, unbidden and unwanted, it was of him my father. A handsome silver fox, I had once revered and respected, a charismatic leader of a megachurch that thousands flocked to every Sunday. He had made me feel special once like I was the center of his universe. But it wasn’t love; it was control, a twisted game of power masked as affection. I hated him for what he had done, for the way he had twisted my mind and my heart. Yet, even now, the memory of him sent a jolt of arousal through me, a sickening mix of shame and desire that only intensified the climax building within me.

The orgasm hit me hard, ripping through my body with a force that left me whimpering and gasping, my intimate parts pulsing with a satisfaction that, even now, was one of the best sensations I’d ever had. But it wasn’t just the physical release that made me tremble the bitter aftertaste of shame, the overwhelming disgust with myself for finding so much pleasure in a fraught memory. I Wrapped my bushy tail around my body as if I could hide from the reality of who I was.

The silence of the room was accusing, pressing in on me from all sides. I needed to escape it, to drown it out. My hand reached for the remote on the nightstand and I clicked the HV on. The screen flickered to life and there he was my father, my first love and my first hate, standing before a massive crowd in his immaculate gray suit. His voice, so smooth and commanding, filled the sanctuary as he spoke to the congregation, his words dripping with false righteousness. They hung on his every word, nodding and agreeing, oblivious to the wolf in sheep’s clothing that stood before them.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest, that familiar warmth beginning to spread from my core, turning my shame into that familiar arousal. How could he stand there, preaching about morality, about sin, when he was the worst sinner of them all? The image on the screen blurred with the memory of that day in the church the day he had called me out, branded me a whore in front of the entire congregation. He hadn’t done it because I was guilty of anything, but because I had dared to seek something more, from someone around my own age, someone who could love me in the light of day, someone who wasn’t him.

I remembered the humiliation, the way I had fled the church, my face burning with shame, my triangular ears slumped in embarrassment as the congregation’s eyes bored into my back. But the worst part wasn’t the public shaming it was the realization that he had done it out of jealousy, out of a twisted need to keep me for himself, hidden away from the world. The hypocrisy of it all made my blood boil. As I watched him now, standing there as the embodiment of virtue, my traitorous fingers expertly but roughly began to coax me to another needed orgasm. I knew I couldn’t let him get away with it. Not anymore. The time for revenge had come, I thought, as another blissful sensation racked my body.

Pastor Moses LightFur sat at his large, mahogany desk, his fingers lightly drumming on the leather-bound book in front of him. The office was serene, a sanctuary within the church. Sunlight streamed in from the windows behind him, reflecting off a brass religious emblem on his desk and glinting in the mirror mounted above the windows. His moment of peace was interrupted by the soft click of the intercom on his desk.” Pastor Moses?” came the voice of his secretary, smooth and familiar. “There’s a woman here who’s interested in joining the church. She’d like to meet with you.”

He pressed the button to respond, his tone warm yet commanding. “Please, send her in.”

The door to his office opened slowly, revealing a tiger woman. She was striking, her movements graceful as she stepped into the room with an air of confidence. Pastor Moses’ sharp amber eyes immediately noticed the details that spoke of wealth and sophistication. She was wearing a body harness and it hugged her figure in a way that was both bold and elegant. The jewelry adorning her wrists and ankles delicate but clearly expensive only added to the aura of someone accustomed to luxury.

“Pastor Moses, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she said with a smile, extending her well-manicured hand toward him. “My name is Vivian StoneClaw. I attended your sermon last Sunday and I found it deeply moving. I’ve been searching for a congregation like this.”

Pastor Moses stood to greet her, shaking her hand firmly but politely. “Welcome, Ms. StoneClaw. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the plush chair opposite his desk, maintaining his professional demeanor, though he couldn’t help but notice the subtle flirtatious energy she projected.

She sat down gracefully, adjusting her body harness as she crossed her shapely legs. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she continued, “Your words really touched me, Pastor. I’ve been looking for a place where I can find spiritual fulfillment and I believe this is it. I’d like to become a part of this congregation. I think it could help me grow spiritually.”

Moses leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together, watching her carefully. “We are always pleased to welcome those who are seeking a deeper connection with God. It’s heartening to hear that my sermon spoke to you in such a personal way.”

Vivian smiled, her gaze lingering on him. “You are truly a man of God. I’ve been to many churches, but yours ... I felt something special here. I’m sure I’ll find what I’ve been looking for.”

Pastor Moses nodded, maintaining his composure despite her somewhat flirtatious tone. “I’m glad to hear that, Ms. StoneClaw. I believe you will find our congregation to be a welcoming community and I look forward to you joining us in our mission to serve and grow spiritually.”

As their conversation continued, Vivian’s body language remained poised, but there was a hint of something more in her eyes a subtle flirtation. Her movements were slow and deliberate and the pastor, though professional, was not immune to her charms. Still, he kept the interaction cordial, his voice steady. After a few more exchanges, she stood to leave.

“Thank you for your time, Pastor. I’ll be in touch soon,” she said, her voice soft and warm. She extended her hand again and as Moses took it, he felt a brief but undeniable connection. He watched her leave, her stride confident and graceful, the expensive body harness emphasizing the curve of her hips.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Moses exhaled quietly. The air in the room felt lighter now. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and pressed the intercom button. “Please Ms. Jane, could you come into my office,” he asked?

Moments later, Jane walked into the room. She was an older fox, her reddish fur streaked with silver, dressed in a simple but neat blouse and skirt. There was a familiarity in her posture and the way she closed the door behind her. Without a word, she moved behind his chair and began massaging his shoulders as he leaned back slightly.

“That woman, Vivian StoneClaw,” Pastor Moses began, his voice steady as he allowed Jane’s experienced hands to work over the tension in his muscles. “I want you to prepare a care package for her. Make sure it’s something that reflects our community’s warmth include the membership form and a copy of our latest charity outreach.”

“Of course, Pastor,” Jane replied, her voice soft as her fingers kneaded into the muscles of his neck. “She seemed ... quite interested.”

Moses nodded slowly, his eyes closing for a moment as he relaxed under her touch. “Yes, she was. Wealthy, too. Someone we could definitely use in our congregation Jane.”

Jane’s fingers lingered a little longer, her touch becoming intimate as they worked over his shoulders. “I’ll make sure she’s welcomed properly, Pastor. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

There was a brief silence, his muscles relaxing under her careful hands. Their familiarity with one another was evident, unspoken but clear. Moses smiled slightly. “Just the care package, for now, Jane. And after that ... we can talk about the upcoming fundraiser.”

Jane’s hands paused for just a moment, then resumed their careful massage. “As you wish,” she murmured, her tone holding a subtle warmth and disappointment that spoke of her longing. With a final rub, she stepped back, her fingers trailing off his shoulders, leaving the room with the quiet efficiency of someone who knew exactly where she stood in his life.

The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows against the beige walls of the hotel. Ruth stood outside her door, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the key card. She was in a rush to freshen up as she had to meet another client. She cursed under her breath, trying once again to slide the card through the reader. The red light blinked stubbornly, refusing her entry.

“Dammit,” she muttered, brushing a few strands of her russet hair out of her eyes. It was just past ten o’clock and the exhaustion from the evening’s work had left her frayed and irritable. Ruth was no stranger to frustration, but something about being locked out of her own room set her teeth on edge.

After another failed attempt, she let out a sigh of defeat, leaning against the door as if the weight of the day had finally caught up to her. There was no choice but to ask for help.

She cast a glance to her left, the door of the room where she’d heard faint whispers and muffled sounds over the past couple of days. They were a couple, probably fresh in love. Ruth had noticed them in passing, but she’d kept her distance. She wasn’t the type to make friends, especially not with people like them. But tonight, her pride would have to take a backseat.