organized chaos faded to a murmur of anticipation spotted with occasional roars
of comment, usually lewd in nature.
Mudge had shifted his seat, now sat close to Jon-Tom. His eyes were on the fake
tree as he elbowed his companion repeatedly in the ribs.
"Eyes at the alert now, mate. There's not a fairer nor more supple sight in all
Lynchbany."
An animal appeared at the dark opening in the ceiling, prompting a bellow from
the crowd. It vanished, then teasingly reappeared. It was slight, slim, and made
its way very slowly from the hidden chamber above down into the branches of the
ersatz conifer. About three and a half feet in length, it displayed another half
foot of active tail and was completely, almost blindingly covered in snow-white
fur save for a few inches of black at the tip of the tail.
Its costume, if such so lithe a wrapping could be called, consisted of many
layers of black veils of some chiffonlike material through which the brilliant
white fur showed faintly. Its face was streaked with red painted on in intricate
curlicues and patterns that ran from face and snout down onto shoulders, chest,
and back before vanishing beneath the airy folds. A turban of matching black was
studded with jewels. The final touch, Jon-Tom noted with fascination, were long
false eyelashes.
So absorbing was this glittering mammalian vision that for several moments
identification escaped him. That slim form and muscular torso could only belong
to some member of the weasel family. When the apparition smiled and displayed
tiny sharp teeth he was certain of it. This was an ermine, still in full
winter-white coat. That confirmed the time of year he'd arrived, though he
hadn't thought to ask anyone. About the creature's femininity he had no doubt
whatsoever.
A hush of interspecies expectancy had settled over the crowd. All attention was
focused overhead as the ermine ecdysiast began to toy with the clasps securing
one veil. She unsnapped one, then its companion. Cries of appreciation started
to rise from the patrons, an amazing assortment of hoots, whistles, squeaks,
yowls, and barks. She began to uncoil the first veil with snakelike motions.
Jon-Tom had never had occasion to imagine an animal executing anything as erotic
as a striptease. After all, beneath any clothing lay another layer of solid fur
and not the bare flesh of a human.
But eroticism has little to do with nudity, as he soon discovered. It was the
movement of the creature, a supple twisting and turning that no human female
could possibly match, that was stimulating. He found himself thoroughly
engrossed by the mechanics of the dance alone.
To rising cries of appreciation from the crowd one veil followed another. The
cool indifference Jon-Tom had intended to affect had long since given way to a
distinct tingling. He was no more immune to beauty than any other animal. The
ermine executed a series of movements beyond the grasp of the most talented
double-jointed human, and did so with the grace and demeanor of a countess.
There was also the manner in which she oozed around the branches and leaves of
the tree, caressing them with hands and body in a way only a chunk of cold
granite could have ignored. The room was heavy with musk now, the suggestiveness
of motion and gesture affecting every male within sight.
The last veil dropped free, floated featherlike to the floor. The music was
moving almost as fast as the performer. That white-furred derriere had become a
gravity-defying metronome, a passionate pendulum sometimes concealed, sometimes
revealed by the position of the twitching tail, all vibrating in time to the
music.
The music rose to a climax as the ermine, hanging by her arms from the lowermost
branches, executed an absolutely impossible series of movements which
incidentally revealed to Jon-Tom the reason for the circular, central nature of
the main serving counter. It served now as fortress wall behind which the
heavily armed cooks and bartenders were able to fend off the hysterical advances
of the overheated patrons.
One long-eared rabbit which Jon-Tom supposed to be a jack actually managed to
grab a handful of black-tipped tail which was coyly but firmly pulled out of
reach. A burly bobcat dumped the rabbit back among the surging patrons as the
ermine blew a last kiss to her audience. Then she slithered back through
branches and leaves to disappear inside the ceiling with a last fluid bump and
grind.
Shades and tree were promptly rolled up. Conversation resumed and normality
returned to the restaurant. Waitresses and waiters continued to wend their way
through the crowd like oxygen in the bloodstream.
"D'you see now wot I mean, mate?" Mudge said with the contentment of one who'd
just cashed a very large check, "when I say that there's no one who--" He
stopped, stared strangely across the table.
"What's wrong?" asked Jon-Tom uncomfortably.
" 'Ave me for breakfast," was the startled reply, "if you ain't blushin'! You
'umans..."
"Bull," muttered Jon-Tom, turning angrily away.
"Nope." The otter leaned over the table, peering closely at Jon-Tom despite his
attempts to keep his face concealed. "Blimey but it's true... you're as red as a
baboon's behind, lad." He nodded upward, toward the peak of the roof." 'Ave you
ne'er seen such a performance before, then?"
"Of course I have." He turned forcefully back to face his guardian, rocked a
little unsteadily. It seeped into his brain that he might have become a little
bit tipsy. How much of that black booze had he downed?
"That is, I have... on film."
"What be that?"
"A magic apparition," Jon-Tom explained facilely.
"Well if you've gazed upon such, though not, I dare to say," and he gazed
admiringly ceilingward, "of such elegance and skill, then why the red face?"
"It's just that," he searched for the right words to explain his confusion, "I
shouldn't find the actions of..." How could he say, "another animal" without
offending his companion? Desperately he hunted for an alternate explanation.
"I've never seen anything done with quite that... well, with quite that degree
of perverse dexterity."
"Ah, I understand now. Though perverse I wouldn't call it. Crikey, but that was
a thing of great beauty."
"If you say so, I guess it was." Jon-Tom was grateful for the out.
"Aye." Mudge growled softly and smiled. "And if I could once get my paws on that
supple little mother-dear, I'd show 'er a thing of beauty."
The thick, warm atmosphere of the restaurant had combined with the rich food and
drink to make Jon-Tom decidedly woozy. He was determined not to pass out. Mudge
already did not think much of him, and Clothahump's warnings or no, he wasn't
ready to bet that the otter would stay with him if he made a total ass of
himself.
Determinedly he shoved the mug away, rose, and glanced around.
"What be you searchin' for now, mate?"
"Some of my own kind." His eyes scanned the crowd for the sight of bare flesh.
"What, 'umans?" The otter shrugged. "Aw well, never 'ave I understood your
peculiar affinity for each other's company, but you're free enough to choose
your own. Espy some, do you?"
Jon-Tom's gaze settled on a pair of familiar bald faces in a booth near the rear
of the room. "There's a couple over that way. Two men, I think."
"As you will, then."
He turned his attention down to the otter. "It's not that I'm not enjoying your
companionship, Mudge. It's just that I'd like one of my own kind to talk to for