Cats and Dogs - Part 2Cats and Dogs, Part 2
“You needn’t worry, Lieutenant Reed. If any of the patrons
get out of line, they will be dealt with. The Ensign is quite safe,” assured
Mr. Wans as she poured Malcolm a drink.
Malcolm looked at the drink then across the table to Hoshi
who was grinning like a cat.
He said a quick, “No, thank you,” and pushed the drink away.
Shrugging his shoulders, Mr. Wans motioned to the woman who
was going to make him a lot of money. “Are you ready, Ensign?”
Hoshi looked up at the absurdly stout cat man and stifled an
excited giggle. “I’m about as ready as I’m going to be.” She looked nervously
at Malcolm then to the drink he had pushed away.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant.” She leaned over him and grabbed his
drink, downing it in one gulp.
“Nothing like a bit of nip,” purred Hoshi, as she took the
clip out of her hair. She flipped her head and teased
her hair then flipped it back up. “How do I look?”
Malcolm had turned in his seat and
was taking in the sight. His mouth opened to say something meaningful but all
that came out was a squeak. His eyes fell to her breasts and he thanked the
heavens she could not see his state of alertness under the table. The
exaggerated sway to her hips as she walked away didn’t help his state and he
shifted uncomfortably.
Just then a hush fell over the
establishment and the lights dimmed. The only sounds were an occasional mew and
the clanking of payments to view the alien dancer.
“Pussies and Gentle-Toms, Mr. Wan’s
Whiskers Productions is pleased to present a one-time exotic treasure from
afar. She hails from a milky galaxy. May I present Ensign Hoshi Sato?”
The music thrummed throughout the
room, mimicking the rhythm of an animalistic frenzy. Catcalls for the alien to
strut her stuff soon ensued.
But Hoshi simply leaned against
the cool metal bar in the center of the stage. Ever since she had swigged
Malcolm’s drink she had been feeling hot and itchy. She closed her eyes,
letting the pulse of the sounds around her influence her movements. Reaching up
with both hands, she grasped the metal bar firmly.
She rolled her head and neck in
circles as if stretching the kinks from a long slumber. In doing so Hoshi
started to sway her hips in time with the music. As she swayed her hips, she
sank down onto the floor, all the while holding onto the pole and thrusting her
chest forward.
When she got closer to the ground
she let go of the pole and fell forward onto her knees. She arched her back
like she had observed Nanet do. The hoots and whistles increased and the patrons
offered deuterium tips for the alien woman to dance for them. She crawled
toward one of them, determined to collect the offering, but the other patrons
demanded more of a public performance. So she turned quickly on one of her
knees and kicked one of her legs out, swinging it to stand up.
The intended patron fell back into
his seat hissing at her for teasing.
Malcolm watched with his hand
hovering over his phase pistol. She was still decent. She was still in control.
Mr. Wans had bouncers. She was safe. Somehow he managed to keep from letting
his eyes roll back into his head as he observed her movements. She was bendy.
His eyes went wide. And she was
rubbing up against the pole in a manner that left little to the imagination. He
watched as her leg wrapped around the pole, bringing the apex of her thighs in
direct contact to the lucky metal.
The caterwauling was deafening as
she rubbed her face against the metal as well.
Hoshi moved to the front of the
stage gyrating her hips in a circular motion and running her hands through the
ends of her hair as if she were petting herself.
"Oh yeah, Minx! That's it!
Pet yourself for Big Tom!" yelled one scraggily, stripped cat man.
If looks could kill, Big Tom would
have cashed in all of his nine lives by the way Malcolm looked at him.
Hoshi noticed how uncomfortable
Malcolm had become and grinned the kind of grin that would have made the
Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland envious. Getting down on all fours she strutted
her wares toward Big Tom intent on letting him pet her.
Her hair had fallen into her face,
but she paid it no mind, climbing down the stage like a feline who was
receptive. Various paws patted her, causing her blood to boil higher, and
inhibiting her to crawl to Big Tom.
“What the hell does she think she
is doing?” asked Malcolm to no one in particular as Mr. Wans leaned forward,
his tail sticking up in the air with a loud purr sounding from his throat.
Malcolm started to walk toward the
spectacle and stopped. Hoshi was sitting on the Tom’s lap, and pouring a drink
down her tank top. His mouth went dry and his
feet refused to move from the spot they were planted in.
She rubbed her cheek against Big
Tom’s whiskers and the overgrown cat went perfectly still, immersed in the
alien woman’s scent. Turning in his lap, she kicked herself up somehow holding
onto the bulk of raw unrefined deuterium chips.
She went down the line of patrons,
collecting the tokens of appreciation, scratching some of them behind their
overgrown ears and tweaking some of their whiskers.
Just then Malcolm overheard a loud
grotesque meow. “Boy is the going to busy tonight. I thought she was for
dancing only. Look at how many Toms she’s inviting. Surely, she must be in
heat.”
Slowly but surely the mechanic
cogs started clicking in Malcolm’s brain and he reacted to the news that Hoshi
had crossed from exotic dancer to prostitute. He pushed through the crowd and
stood over her and the lion-like patron she was tormenting. She was straddling
‘Leo’s’ hips and giving him an up close view of fur as she shook her hair in
his face. Then she stroked his whiskers, earning a purr that could be heard
over the throbbing beat of the music.
“This performance is finished,
Ensign.” Malcolm’s voice was a little more high-pitched then we would have
preferred, but that is how it came out nonetheless.
Hoshi turned to him with a glare
to her eye and glanced at the monitor that held the amount she was fifty
percent entitled to. “I’ve just started warming up, Lieutenant. . Don’t
be such a ‘fraidy-cat. I’m fine. The customer’s are happy and we’ll be swimming
in deuterium before you know it,” she hiccupped.
He grabbed her wrists and lifted
her off of the very disappointed Leo the Lion’s lap. She stuck her bottom lip
out in a pout and looked like she was going to cry.
Malcolm would not relent, tugging
on her wrists and pulling her off balance and into direct contact with his
chest. The hisses and yowls were deafening and the bouncers moved in on their
position.
Hoshi cried as though she were in
pain. Malcolm started and loosened the grip he maintained on her wrist.
Taking advantage of the weakened
grip, she twisted away from him, using one of the self-defense moves he taught
her. After gaining her freedom, she hopped back up onto the stage, quickly
finding the rhythm of the music to finish out her performance.
Malcolm stumbled up onto the stage
rubbing his chin in frustration, and finally realizing that the woman grinding
against the pole was inebriated. Bloody hell! How am I going to explain
this to the Captain?
The beat of the music slowed,
signifying the nearing end of Hoshi's stint as a dancer, but Malcolm would not
deterred.
She saw him coming and screeched.
But it was too late as he grabbed her wrists then her waist, and hefted her
over his shoulder.
Most of the patrons were not
happy, as their exotic form of entertainment was spirited away. Others
applauded the performance; having realized it had gotten out of hand. The
bouncers cleared a path and Malcolm struggled to maintain control of the
wriggling backside that was pressed so firmly against his cheek. He didn't see
the large, tan and white wall of furry muscular chest as he ran into Leo.
The fireman's hold Malcolm held
her in afforded the large Felins lion the luxury of assessing Hoshi's
receptiveness, and he leaned forward sniffing around her greedily.
Malcolm backed away like a greedy
child who didn't want to share, hugging her still struggling form to him. He
saw the Felinis's tail wrap around one of her ankles.
"Just where do you think
you're going with my mate for the night?" roared the deep timbre.
Just as Malcolm was getting ready
to answer, one of the bodyguards intervened. "Move aside, Leo! We have
plenty of pussies that will service you. Ensign Hoshi Sato was for
entertainment services only and not prostitution services."
A collective sigh of
disappointment came from several of the Toms who were hoping to service her.
But, Leo remained firmly planted in his stance, intent of having the exotic
woman from afar. Baring his teeth, he hissed in warning to those around him.
Several of the bodyguards backed
down, but the one to Malcolm’s right stood his ground.
The coal black cat raised a baton
between the lion and Hoshi’s bottom and growled, “She is not for you, now move
on. You can have your pick of the prostitutes free of charge.”
Leo weighed his decision
thoughtfully and stepped aside.
Malcolm hurried outside, listening
to Hoshi’s muffled protests about missing her curtain call. It wasn’t long
before he found the Captain and Trip, who stood watching a replay of Hoshi’s
performance on a public viewing monitor. Apparently the Felinis government had
bought the rights to the performance, feeling it necessary when the deuterium
credits started approaching the stores in their treasury.
Malcolm set her down awkwardly,
and started stretching the kinks out of his shoulder. Hoshi spat every
imaginable curse in every language she knew, even though most of it was slurred
due to her condition. She directed her rant toward Malcolm and wondered why he
didn’t respond, his eyes wide with shock and looking past her.
She turned slowly and her eyes
went from the vid screen, which clearly reflected her decadent performance, to
the backs of her superior officers. To make matters worse, the video looped to
one particular moment during her performance where she turned it into a wet
t-shirt contest.
Her head was buzzing and her
stomach roiled. She turned slowly, reaching a hand out to whoever was next to
her. Luckily, it wasn’t some smelly Tom, but Malcolm, who looked at her pale
green complexion and hugged her to him.
He didn’t hear it, but he sure did
feel it – the warm gush of vomit, which coated the front of his uniform. Then
the smell assailed his senses and he took a large gulp of air and held his
breath. He would be damn if he would join her and toss his cookies.
Hoshi looked up at Malcolm and
smiled. Then she went slack in his arms. Luckily the temptation to drop her
didn’t outweigh the desire to hold her up. He cleared his throat loudly, trying
to attract the attention of the Captain and Trip. Finally Trip turned around
and rushed to help him hold the now complete dead weight of Hoshi.
Trip held her back to his chest,
pulling her away from Malcolm and got a good whiff of what ailed Hoshi. “Oh my Gawd!
What did they give her? She smells like she’s been swimming in cat pee and
booze!”
Just then he noticed Malcolm’s
uniform covered in the liquid that Hoshi had been sipping. The armory officer
took a step back and started to strip the offensive material off his shoulders,
and down his body. It looked like Hoshi wasn’t going to be the only one that
returns to Enterprise sans uniform.
Mr. Wans strutted up to them,
palming the data chip that contained the information for them to pick their
deuterium at. “M-m- marvelous performance! Er, is she going to be okay?” He was
so excited over becoming the second richest Felinis on the planet that he had
hardly noticed Hoshi’s condition.
“She’s gonna be awright, once we
get ‘er back to the ship and she gets a shot of the hair of the dog that bit
her,” Trip huffed, dragging her dead weight toward the shuttle pod.
Mr. Wans became alarmed at the
mention of the word dog, but smiled as he realized it was only an expression. “Here
is the pick up point for your deuterium. It was a pleasure doing business with
you.” He nodded to Jon. “Are you certain that she isn’t for sale?”
Jon took the pad from the furry
paw and coughed. “I’m quite certain that she isn’t for sale.”
Mr. Wans tsked, turned on his heel
and with a flick of his tail walked away.