"Lawrence Watt - Evans - Foxy Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

breastbone that stood out a good three inches, had fascinated him. The fur was longer again between her
legs, providing a discreet cover-- she really didn't need clothes.
Except, perhaps, to cover her nipples, which were exposed and hairless.
She had tidied up the hotel room while he lay on the bed, resting and watching her. Since the maid had
been in that morning, there hadn't been much tidying to be done, but she had done her best, hanging up
her tunic, straightening the shirts in Al's suitcase, and so on.
She really was shaped almost exactly like a woman, Al had seen. Except for the fur, and the long
bushy tail, and her head, she could have been human.
They'd done an amazing job, starting with a fox and producing her!
When she was satisfied with the room's condition she had come and sat beside him.
"What should I do now, Master?" she had asked.
He had reached up and done what he had not had the nerve to do up until then, and had stroked the
fur on her arm. It was soft and sleek.
She had taken this as a cue, and had responded by stroking him back, and then unbuttoning his shirt.
He'd made a vague attempt at expressing his doubts and reservations about the propriety of this, since
they were different species. He had said something about voiding the warranty, about physical
compatibility, but she had swept that aside.
"Oh, they knew it would happen," she had said as she crouched over him, tail waving. "It was one of
the things they designed us for, right from the start, and they trained us for it, too. They can't advertise it,
of course, but I think everybody knows."
Her fingers were amazing, and he was delighted by how little her tail got in the way. The fur added a
whole new element.
Even so, she made love like a woman, rather than a fox, which was just as well. Al did not care for
any nipping, and was pleased to have her on top and facing him.
Of course, those pointed little teeth and the shape of her mouth did limit things somewhat, and he
would want to keep her claws filed down, but all in all, it was quite an experience.
He remembered that on the flight home, and decided that she was definitely worth the extra airfare.

She settled in quickly. His apartment achieved and maintained a degree of cleanliness he hadn't
believed possible; she answered the phone when he was out, and took messages flawlessly.
He was rather surprised, as he had been so often by her, when he realized she could read and write.
"It's useful," she said, "So they taught us."
The woman he had been dating, one Mandy Charpentier, dumped him because of Sally-- she didn't
make a big scene, but she did call him a pervert.
"Hey, I didn't go out and buy her, I won her, on TV!" he protested.
"And you kept her, didn't you?" Mandy shot back. "Are you trying to tell me you couldn't have traded
her in, or sold her somewhere?"
Al was basically a truthful person; he let Mandy go.
He worried about it, briefly-- was he a pervert? The new term that was being used by the inevitable
campaigners against the immoral use of anthropomorphs was "furvert." Was he a furvert?
He eventually decided it really didn't matter whether he was or not. He dated other women, took
some of them to bed-- and when they weren't there, Sally was.
His friends met Sally, marveled at her. A few were offended; a few were intrigued. For reasons he
couldn't explain, he never let anyone else touch her-- except once, after a particularly wild date, when he
brought the woman home and the three of them wound up in bed together. The human woman had
seemed almost obsessed with Sally's fur; Sally, for her part, had been fascinated by the woman's smooth
hairlessness.
That particular woman wanted nothing to do with Al after that night.
His food bills more or less doubled, which left him with less disposable income than he was used to,
but he got by. He went to fewer shows, bought cheaper clothes.