"Your place, or mine?" Anthony asked in return.
He liked the weasel; he was cute and sweet. Even though he looked no more than 18,
the tiger figured that was probably just part of his transformation. After all, FurCruise
didn't allow underage customers. Regardless of what Wes looked like off the island,
Anthony liked him and wanted to make his last night memorable.
"How about my hotel room?" Wes said. "I have a suite in the Ziter, so there's plenty of
room, and I can have room service bring us something to eat."
Anthony was impressed; the Ziter was the most expensive and upscale hotel on
Pleasure Island. It was rumored that whoever owned the island lived in the Ziter's
presidential suite, but that was just a rumor. Whoever Wesley was off the island, he
had to be fairly rich.
So he followed the weasel down mainstreet and into the hotel. He had been in the
lobby before, and it hadn't become any less fancy. Elegant decor and state-of-the-art
technology made it the most coveted hotel on the island—and perhaps the world. Wes
led him to the elevator and punched in the 28th floor. Down a short hallway was
Wesley's suite. There were only a handful of other doors on the floor, so the suite had
to be pretty big.
"Here we are," Wes announced as he unlocked the door. Anthony didn't notice that his
keychain held two key cards for the Ziter, he was too busy staring at the room.
The suite was bigger than his apartment! It had a full kitchenette, a luxury bathroom, a
separate bedroom, and a fully-furnished living/dining room with a large flatscreen TV.
The French doors opposite the entryway led out to a covered patio overlooking the
harbor. Anthony could see the FurCruise ship docked and sporting the few lights of
those who couldn't afford a room on the island other than a seedy inn; and on
Pleasure Island those were the last places you'd want to spend the night.
"What do you want for supper?" Wesley asked, snapping Anthony out of his stupor.
"They have prime rib, lobster, and lambchops listed as their specials tonight, but I
could ask the chef to make something special if you want."
"I don't want you to spend that kind of money on me," Anthony objected. "We just met,
after all."
"I insist, it's no problem. What'll it be?"
"Uh, steak, I guess. It really doesn't matter to me."
"Suit yourself. I'm going for the lobster. How do you like your steak?"
"Rare, very rare." His transformation had come with a minor side effect: Anthony ate
like a real tiger. Before coming on the island, he always had his steaks well-done; now
he liked his meat practically raw. Wes chuckled softly, guessing the reasons for the
tiger's order.
Anthony sat on the couch which was surprisingly sturdy. It held his massive body
without so much as a creak. This was probably to compensate for people to change
themselves into forms like his. Wesley came over and sat down on the couch with
Anthony.
"So, how long have you worked on the island?" he asked.
"Seven years," Anthony replied, eagerly allowing small talk to break the awkward
silence. "When did you guys get here?"
"About a week ago. I worked my way from one side of the island to another so I
wouldn't miss anything. Although now I'm wishing I'd started at your end."
Anthony smiled. It was obvious that Wes was hitting on him, and he didn't exactly try
to stop it. The weasel continued asking him about his job and life on the island, and
the tiger readily told him how great it was.
"Maybe I should consider staying here, too," Wes said after Anthony told him how he'd
stayed here after his cruise. "What do you think?"
"I think that'd be great if you could," Anthony told him, flirting back. "Although, you'll
have to get a job here if you want to stay. And you probably won't be living here."
"Oh, I already have a job in mind," Wes said in a seductive voice.
Wesley was having a hard time holding himself back. He wanted this tiger now, but he
didn't want to be too forward and scare him off. His slow seduction seemed to be
working well, so he kept going.
"Oh yeah?" Anthony purred, "And what would that be?"
"I was thinking you probably have the best job here, so why not try for that?"
Before Anthony could comment that most of the visitors liked much bigger strippers
than the weasel was, a knock on the door alerted them that room service was there.
Wesley paid and tipped the waiter in cash then brought Anthony his dinner. The two
sat across the coffee table from each other, Anthony eating his bloody steak and Wes
his lobster. Anthony looked over during his meal and saw Wesley holding the tail up to
his mouth and sucking the meat out—he was staring at Anthony and smiling lustfully.
Anthony couldn't take it anymore. He swallowed the last of his steak and walked
behind the weasel. He guided his arms to put the lobster down and made him stand
up and face him.
"Couldn't wait for me to finish dinner?" Wes asked, though he clearly didn't care about
the shellfish on his plate.
"Nope, I've got something better for you to put in your mouth. It's got a stronger flavor"
"It'd better be as good as you say, that was imported lobster."
"Wait, this is an island, they don't need to import lobsters."
"You're right, they don't need to. And nobody needs a sports car, but they're a lot more
fun, aren't they? Now let's see if you ride as nice as you look, you big mustang."