FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Uma walks back behind Arya as the larger serpentine woman slithers through the masked, and entirely underdressed, crowd of the Pleasure Society. The mousey girl dresses nice, expecting an upper-crust establishment. While the building itself is quite nice, with exquisite paintings on the wall, delicate plants tended with care, and a bar larger and stocked with many more labels than she had ever seen before, the people that are there are not what she expected at all. But what should she have expected? Ever since Arya brought these people up, Uma was a little nervous. After all, Tobias had mentioned them before.

"Yeah, I crossed paths with them once or twice," the tiger had said. "Once, a collector wanted someone to pay up for some extravagant something or the other, but when I got to their place, it turns out it was some kind of recruitment thing."

"Did you join?"

"Hell, no, I didn't. But I did take up some freelance work."

Uma bites her lip, scooting in. "What sort?"

Tobias raises an eyebrow at that and puts his drink down. "Yeah, yeah, Arya's got ya thinking about if these people are trustworthy or not. Well, you know where I stand on that. But do you really want to know what I did for 'em?"

Uma nods.

Sighing, Tobias begins, saying, "They had this guy, real twink. A pussy cat, you know? He was just standing in that room, naked as the day he was born. The butler-lookin' punk who led me to him said that this was my client, but the cat didn't speak. I think he was foreign. Siamese, maybe? I know, I know, 'wow racist,' don't look at me like that. So Jeeves tells me that fancy boy over there wanted to experience the pleasure of fighting a real warrior and told me not to hold back. Oh, and I had to fight him only with what my momma gave me."

"What did you do?"

"I gave 'em what he wanted... you want all the lurid details? Let's say I didn't get any blood on my clothes and leave it at that, alright? By the time I was done with him, he was a mess, but he had a smile on his face and a stiffy between his legs. Funny, he left me a little sore, too."

"So... you liked it?" She asks.

"Hell yes! I got to kick someone's ass without having to worry about the cops, and I got paid handsomely. No way in hell I was gonna dress in briefs and service the punk, though. I like freelancing, and I wasn't going to wait around for him to ask to be butt buddies."

The description seems pretty accurate, as men and women all dress down in just that one piece of clothing and in masks that cover their identities. Through this sea of naked bodies, Uma feels the most exposed, despite her modest dress.

"I'll go on ahead. Just be careful," Arya says, slithering up into the sea of skin an fur.

"That's fine," Uma says, rolling her eyes. "Just leave me behind, you know, the one you're supposed to be helping?" She sighs, and glances around the den of debauchery. What is she going to do? She could sit on a couch, but risk a couple or two plopping down to make out on it. Not to mention who knows what stains are already on the thing. Going down to the dance floor would only get her pressed up against sweating, heaving bodies.

There is the bar, however. Probably the best way to make herself inconspicuous was to hang out in the one spot in the entire establishment that looked like any form of 'normal.'

She sits down, grumbling to herself about Arya's 180. That strong, wonderful woman just loses herself when it comes to these new friends of hers. "These people better be worth it..." she mutters .

"First time here?" comes a silky voice from across the bar. Standing there is a horse with a lean, strong build and with her tits hanging out. On top of her left breast, she has a tattoo in the shape of the symbol for Mars, but its subtly different-the circle replaced with a heart. Uma can't believe what she sees.

"Eyes up here, sister," the horse says, a smirk upon her face. "Though, I can't blame you for 'miring."

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry!" She says, burying her head in her hands. "Guuh, I just... I thought I recognized..."

The horse quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah? What."

"Your, uh..." she points to her own chest.

The horse smiles. "Ah, so, you're in 'the know.' She says, giving her a wink. I get ya, Sailor. Here... have a free one on me," she says. "From one with discerning taste to another." She pours Uma a drink, but she glances upwards at the top shelf stuff. Half of them have names she's never even seen before. Things like "Bodegase Torrres Jaime" and "Gerard Bertrand." These are drinks so upper crust, their crust has crust, and the price must be ludicrous to boot. The way many of those are locked behind a keypad and thumbprint scanner means that they are serious business.

The bartender whistles. "Someone's got her eye on the prize. Let me guess, wino?"

"N... no, not really, but..." she reaches up and points towards one of the bottles. "I read about that. That's... That's Auvergne, yeah?"

The bartender looks over her shoulder and nods. "1925 Auvergne Hills Chardonnay, to be precise. It'll cost ya $27,000 for a glass, and if I spill it, I'm as good as glue. Don't tell me you got that kind of money."

"Oh, n-no, but... geeze..." Uma's eyes wander over towards another bottle--one with a golden-hued with a simple name etched upon it. "Dolor." A pretentious name, to be sure, but Uma's mind floods back to a time where she totally flubbed her first presentation to a powerful woman, standing behind a dark wooden desk with an office overlooking the entire city. A glass of this ambrosia swirled in her hand as she looked back to Uma with powerful, scrutinizing eyes.