Eric Anderson was lost in his own little world sitting in the back seat of the Stovall's car with the woman he loved.
Julie Stovall was holding his hands in hers. Their bodies were as close as physically possible without being sexually intimate.
What was even more important to him was that the possibility of Julie dumping him for fellow were-merman Arthur Curtis was just a huge misunderstanding on his part. A bit of loneliness mixed with a lot of jealousy, considering Arthur had several classes with Julie during the fall semester of their Freshman year at Moon Lake High School and all Eric had was just Freshman lunch and an occasional glimpse in the hallways of his fiance.
There was no doubt that Eric loved Julie with all his heart and soul, a fact not lost on her parents in the front seat.
They were going to dinner together (since Eric was part of their pod/family) to celebrate Melissa Stovall being pregnant with child.
Julie's mother was just a few days into the blessed event, with the baby not due until sometime next summer.
But this was a cause for celebration, and the Stovalls and Eric were going to enjoy the moment.
Eric was totally lost in Julie until Martin Stovall suddenly turned off the main highway onto a dirt road.
A quick glance out the back window revealed that there was no street sign or even road lamp. Unless you knew exactly where to turn, it was highly likely you would drive past the dirt road at night, which is just how the weres running their destination wanted things.
"We're almost there kids," announced Julie's father, as he started slowing down to park.
Eric looked over the rear of the front seat and saw nothing but a huge wooden structure in front of them.
"Have you been here before honey?" Eric asked Julie.
"Maybe, but it's been so long ago," admitted Julie, as uncertain of their current whereabouts as he was.
Once the car was parked, everyone undid their seat belts.
Martin was amazed at Eric's speed as he rushed out the car, circled around its rear and opened the other passenger door for his beloved before Martin had even cleared the vehicle.
The two younger were-mers just stood there, holding hands together until Martin held the front passenger door open for his wife.
"It looks just as quaint and charming as it did the last time we were here," said Melissa, staring at the place.
"I know," agreed Martin, taking her hand in his. "Just the sort of quiet solitude and private place weres need to kick back and relax."
"So, this place only caters to weres?" wondered Eric.
"No" answered Martin. "Being public, it's also open to normals, but they rely on word of mouth advertising more than anything else, so it's rare when there are any regular human beings staying here. This place still observes all the display regulations of Moon Lake though during the day, although there are private and very secluded areas where a were can let their fur or whatever hang out undisturbed and unnoticed. Just like we do for the major holiday picnics at the lake."*
"So, what's the name of this place?" asked Julie, not seeing any display signage.
"Shambala," answered Melissa, as Martin led the way to the main building.
Inside, the foursome saw an open, rustic lobby akin to any inn out in the wilderness, except it skipped all the cliched decorations like mounted animal heads and furry rugs in favor of nature portraits and a bare wooden floor.
A small fire blazed in the fire pit in the center of the lobby.
The only signs of civilization present were the electric lights and the computer sitting at the front counter in the rear next to a staircase and a door that led to parts unknown.
"Hello, and welcome to Shambala," said the lady behind the counter, spotting the new arrivals. "Did you need rooms?"
"No. We're just here for dinner. Have something special to celebrate," replied Martin.
"Okay. Our restaurant is open to 11," replied the lady, as Martin led his group through an open door to their right.
It didn't take more than a few steps for the ladies to appreciate their surroundings.
Linen covered tables with lit candles on most of them. Silverware wrapped in cloth, ringed napkins. Only the light over the entrance was bright, the rest were on a dimmer setting.
Suddenly, a maitre'd wearing a formal black tuxedo appeared as if out of nowhere.
"Mister and Mrs. Stovall. How wonderful it is to see you again!" he proclaimed, shaking Martin's hand before kissing Melissa's. "To what do we owe the honor? I see it is not time for another anniversary yet," he added, noting the necklace Melissa proudly wore around her neck.
Most weres didn't like or wore jewelry, because it usually got damaged transforming back and forth from their fursonas. But were-mermaids did wear necklaces like a combination of charm bracelet and wedding ring.
In Melissa's case, her necklace had a relatively large pearl to denote twenty years of marriage to Martin, next to another but slightly smaller pearl to indicate another five years of wedded bliss. Two regular size pearls were next to that to reflect the total of their married life to 27 years, while a somewhat pinkish pearl finished the string to indicate Julie.
"We're here to celebrate something very special Pierre," said Martin, as the maitre'd noticed the teenagers with them.
"This cannot be little Julie," he said in disbelief. "Why, the last time I saw her, she was still nothing more than ze rugrat."
Then Pierre noticed the single pearl on the necklace Julie proudly wore, indicating her engagement.
"Oh. You lucky fellow," Pierre said, reaching out to shake Eric's hand. "You be good to this woman, you hear?"
"I am, and I will," promised Eric, "but that's not why we're here."
"No?" asked Pierre, turning back to look at the adults again.
"Pierre," began Melissa, "I guess it isn't obvious yet, but the proverbial were-stork will be visiting us again next summer," she announced happily.
"Oh. Pardone madame. I should have realized that from the big smiles upon everyone's faces. Well, don't you worry. Pierre will make sure you get ze best table and the most wonderful meal you have ever experienced," he promised, before escorting them further into the dining room.
The Stovalls and Eric passed other, occupied tables along the way. Everyone was in their normal forms and fully dressed, but even the young Anderson's inexperienced nose could detect the subtle hint of were species from everyone present, including Pierre.
"Here we are, the best seats in the house," announced Pierre, showing them a table for 4 near the rear of the dining room. It was close to both the kitchen, the man in the corner playing dinner music on a small piano, and the restrooms.
The men held the chairs for their ladies as Pierre made sure everything was in place for 4 diners.
"I shall return shortly with ze menus and something appropriate but non-alcholic to celebrate this blessed event. On the house, of course," promised Pierre, before he disappeared into the kitchen.
"Well, what do you think of the place so far?" asked Martin.
"Just as I remember it," said Melissa, looking around before she waved at the piano player, a man they had met the last time they were there.
"Pierre said he knew me, but I don't remember him," confessed Julie.
"I'm afraid that's because you haven't been here since you were in diapers. The last time was the year we had to bring you because we couldn't find a sitter. Otherwise, this is our special place. I hope you don't mind," explained her father.
"I don't remember you two taking that many trips without me, but I guess adults need 'me' time too," realized Julie.
"It can be your special place too," said Melissa to her daughter, indicating Julie and Eric.
"It sure is fancy," observed Eric, "but they don't cater to children?"
"They do, but most weres usually don't bring their offspring because they like more... private getaways," said Martin, a statement to which both teenagers could swear he was blushing as he spoke.
"And everyone here is a were?" asked Eric.
"At least, everyone we've encountered so far. I don't know about the lady at the front desk though," admitted Martin, realizing they hadn't gotten close enough to say for sure, since a were-mer's sense of smell was much stronger underwater than it was on dry land.
"What kind of were is Pierre? I can't place the scent," said Eric, showing his inexperience, since it had been less than a month from when he and Julie professed their true love for each other and he entered were society as they each gave the other their virginity.
"Were... otter. I think," said Julie.
"Close. Were beaver," replied Martin. "French Canadian variety."
"In any event, we're going to enjoy this special dinner for 4 together as a family," said Melissa, looking lovingly at those with her.
"Five mom," said Julie.
"You're right," realized Melissa. "We can't forget your future brother or sister," she added, before affectionately caressing her clothed stomach again.
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*There is a private area at the lake the town is named after where a were can be a were during the daytime to celebrate Memorial Day, the 4th of July, and Labor Day. Otherwise, all public display rules apply.—tmw.