Rewards

"Stefie, are you playing with my silver fox stole?" The enquirer continued moving along the row of furs as she awaited the reply. She would occasionally stop and delve between two furs and check that the stole had not been placed under a coat, jacket, or cape. She was about to call out again when a movement brought her about to face a fur clad Stefie, a Stefie clad in a white fox hip length cape and blue jeans.

 "No Trina, I have not touched that one lately. In fact I can't recall seeing it at all in the last two weeks, since you went over to Harvey's." Whilst speaking, Stefie's hands were stroking the fur. "I must buy a coat of white fox one day... " a smile "or would it be another reward?"

Katarina's face had blushed at mention of Harvey's name, but it had been missed by Stefie, too interested in the sensations that fingers and palms were encountering from the silky guardhairs of the cape. She went to speak, then thought the better, and returned to seeking out something to wear, muttering softly to herself.

"Now Trina, you keep on with that muttering and I might start to believe that old age is catching up to you... hmmm Alzheimer's even." Laughter filled the room that was now serving as a closet for Katarina, who continued her search, finally stopping before two sable coats.

"Would sable be too much for tonight?" It was a rhetorical question, as Stefie had no idea what the occasion was. Katarina removed a golden sable coat and hung it from a convenient hook, opened it and slide from the cross bar a golden sable stole. "A stole should be sufficient." She replaced the coat and moved passed a still stroking Stefie into her bedroom. The stole was placed on the bed, and she walked into the bathroom, closing the door fractionally then turning back. "Stefie, do me a favour and check that the silver fox stole isn't in there. I could be losing it, but I would have sworn that I had brought it home from Harvey's." The door closed before Stefie could reply. Stefie smiled at the closed door and moved back into the other room.

So began a slow movement down the row of fur. The room was 12 foot by 15 foot, and at one time had been the main bedroom of the house, but that had been many years ago, before Stefie's birth. The furs were along the longer wall and then along the wall opposite the doorway until they reached the narrow floor to ceiling window, now filled with a frosted pane. The rail set at six foot from the ground so that the tips of even Katarina's longest stole would not touch the floor unless on purpose. On the opposite wall, non-fur items all neatly spaced along the racks with her shoes sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees to the floor. Stefie loved entering this room and now that an inspection was required, it was a task that would not be taken lightly. Every coat, jacket, stole, cape, stroller was stroked, opened, moved, brushed against and finally checked to ensure it wasn't harbouring the recalcitrant silver fox stole. After forty minutes, the stole had failed to reveal its presence.

Stefie left the room and sat down on the corner of the bed, waiting for Katarina to reappear. The door opened almost at the same instant, and Katarina's appearance drew a long whistle of appreciation.

"Harvey is going to get a nice surprise tonight." Katarina smiled, eyes bright, pirouetted and then walked slowly across to the bed, where she lifted the stole and draped it over her naked shoulders. Stefie's smile increased in intensity as Katarina went to the cheval mirror and inspected her reflection. "Yep, if he hasn't put the hard word on you before, he sure will tonight, or else he is as I have long suspected." 

"And what have you long suspected, Stefan?" She was facing him, and had taken the tip of the stole and was stroking it over her hand, smiling wickedly.

"That Harvey is as bent as a hairpin." Katarina's face hardened suddenly.

"Do you really think Harvey is gay?"  The laugh was not meant to please. "Stefan, you poor misguided fool, he is just as straight as you." She turned and gazed at her reflection, "You are straight, aren't you?"

"MOTHER!" Stefan's reply brooked no argument. He sat upon the bed, and glared at her. Not even a smile could change his expression, his hands falling to his sides. She approached the bed, flicked out the tip of the stole so it brushed his face and then sat down beside him.

"See, hon, sometimes one shouldn't presume." She stroked his cheek tenderly, and the anger dissipated. "Believe me when I say that Harvey is not gay. Far from it. He sometimes makes your father look like a wimp." At mention of his father, Stefan turned and looked at his mother. Her face had suddenly aged and a semblance of a tear had formed. Before it could gather momentum, she wiped her eyes, faced Stefan, kissed him on his cheek, her arms holding him close, and the white fox stirring her as had the sable before it. She released him and rose. "Now, just what do you intend to do with your Friday night?"

"Stay at home and "he stopped and smiled, "try not to stain any clothing."

"So I can expect to see you when I get home?"

"Not going to stay overnight?"

"Stefie, you have been home for three weeks and we have hardly talked, what with you running about catching up with your friends. I am surprised that you are not going out tonight though. Anything wrong?"

"No Trina, I just feel like a quiet night at home. I still have a bag I have to unpack. Europe was fun, but I suppose I should think about work. Tom Morgan's offer is still good, and I have decided that Albany is a nice place to start off my high-flying legal career." He rose. "Means I don't have to worry about finding a place to live in New York, and that is a definite blessing in disguise." His mother smiled, rose, and started for the hallway.

"I think you'll still make the odd trip to New York, though my dear." She looked at her watch, "Seven Fifteen. Where is that man?" Another peek on his cheek and she disappeared down the hall. He heard the doorbell, and seconds late the sound of the door opening and then closing. Left to his own devices, he again returned to the closet, and whiled away a pleasurable hour or so.

His mother did have a very impressive fur collection, one that had started when she was just eighteen. Thirty-five years on, and Steve (for that was his name, Steven Jonathon Viduka, his mother refusing or maybe honouring him by calling him Stefie after his great grandfather, could not remember a year when she had not added to the collection.

In his childhood, it was a common trip to go to New York in January for the post-Christmas sales. He remembered sitting quietly in the fur salon as the furrier and Katarina talked about various furs and what the future held. Now, what his future held was a career with Morgan Associates; a start there in the New Year, and maybe a finish like his father's, as senior partner. These and many other thoughts went through his mind as he moved along the furs. The white fox cape had been replaced on its hanger and he felt the chill of the night. He left the furs and made his way to the kitchen, sort out the coffee and brewed one.

Shivering slightly, he walked briskly back to his room, coffeemug in hand. He stopped at the doorway and looked about it, thinking back to the first time he had entered this room after his father's death. It had been then he had decided that the Law was what he wanted. The sight of the bookcase filled with law books and publications had caused the decision, and that bookcase resembled the clutter of a busy man as it did now. The room was much changed however.

That evening, the room had been as originally intentioned; a billiards room cum study, thirty feet long and eighteen feet wide; the south wall windows to get the winter sun. The bookcases and windows remained, as did the original doorway, but immediately to his right was another wall extending down fifteen feet with one doorway, for his bathroom. Around the corner, there was a set of sliding doors that gave entry to his closet. Between the bookcase and the wall, a double bed covered in a golden fox bedspread. Entry to the room allowed one to see only part of the bookcases and his desk, his father's desk actually, solid mahogany, six by four feet, leather inlay. The computer keyboard and monitor took up the left-hand side of the desk; the rest of the desk was covered in miscellaneous papers, and an unopened suitcase.

Steven placed the mug on the desk, walked to the double doors and opened them.  Unlike his mother's closet, the left-hand wall was not a row of furs stretching out fifteen feet, nor was the right wall. He stored his furs around the corner, in an area just 7 feet long. He moved to his furs and looked along the rack, the indirect light glinting off the rack and the hangers. From his father, he had inherited three coats and two jackets; Full length black diamond mink, Coyote and Fisher whilst the jackets were coyote again and Silver fox. Since his eighteenth birthday, he had added several other coats, jackets and capes.

For his eighteenth birthday, he and Katarina had gone down to New York and stayed a week at the Pierre. For the first time, they had separate suites. The idea had been to take in a week of shows and concerts. The reality was somewhat more enjoyable.

"So, Stefie, what do you want to do first?"

"I have no idea, Mum. Geezzzzz...." He struggled to undo his suitcase. "I wish I hadn't tried to get everything into this thing." The ripping of canvas brought forth a range of oaths followed immediately by a hurried "sorry mum" and a blush that nearly matched the colouring of the autumnal leaves they had seen in Central Park. Sheepishly, he removed his clothing and started putting it away.

"I shall return when you are fin.. No, you can come to my room when you are done." Katarina turned and left the room, closing the door quietly, and Steve could not help feeling that the laughter that permeated the air was a direct result of his cursing and actions. He continued with his unpacking and storage and then checked out the bar fridge, television, and radio. Nothing interested him, so he ambled across the corridor to her room, knocked, and entered.

"All done?"

"Yes. Sorry about the outburst."

"I understand completely." Laughing, she offered him a seat, while looking out the window onto a busy street. "I love the shopping, but I hate the traffic. So, what is on the agenda?"

"Haven't really thought about it, mum, either Phantom, Cats... whatever. I just want to look at a few things and shops." He shifted nervously in his chair.

"A few things and shops you say. Wouldn't have anything to do with your little stash, now would it?"

"Stash?" His face tensed followed by his body. Her gaze now centred on his eyes, and she could see the activity that was racing through his mind, a mind that was indeed racing. She decided to ease his pain.

"The furs you have hidden in the top of the old closet in the third bedroom?" His eyes widened. "Oh yes, mother knows all about them. It is a pity that only three of them are really worth any more care. Personally, I'd have thrown the others out long ago, and maybe I just will."

"How did you? When did you? How long?"

"Mother's secret." She walked from the window to the chair beside him, and sat down, her hand resting lightly on his. "I haven't told anyone, nor was I shocked and horrified at the discovery. And it occurred the first week you were at Harvard." He had been upright as she had spoken, and now he collapsed into the armchair. His head sagged.

"Not surprised?"

"No dear. I was almost delighted to see them. Much better that my son hides furs than hide drugs." She paused, looking at him, her silence forcing his eyes to meet hers; "You aren't into drugs are you?"

"No, mum, well, not illegal ones, anyway." He reached into his pocket and removed a pack of Camel, extracted a cigarette somewhat nervously, lit it, drew deeply on it and slowly exhaled. Katarina stared at him. "Stress relief takes varying forms."

"Yes, well, just as well your father isn't here to see that." Her nose wrinkled as the acrid smell reached her. She pulled back, and watched, silent in her thoughts 'til he rose and extinguished the cigarette in an ashtray beside the bed. "So, how did you manage to hide those furs?"

"Hide? Not get?"

"That too." He was seated again.

"It was simple really. I just brought them in while you were out, or in amongst other stuff I had bought. Not spending all my allowance every week, well, it builds up." She nodded, and then relaxed back into her chair. Her right hand rose and stroked the side of her nose. Their steady breathing became the only noise in the room as both awaited the other's next question. Katarina broke the silence.

"So adding to your stash is on your mind again today?" A thought occurred. "The suitcase, was that planned?"

"The ripping wasn't, but the over stuffed look was." He started to relax moreso. "Buy a few clothes, need another bag." He shrugged, Katarina laughed heartily.

"And outsmart mum again, eh?"

"Not now. Mum will probably do a bag search."

"How about mum goes with you and also maybe takes you to see her furrier." Steven sat up, stared at his mother, mouth open. "Something on your mind, Stefie?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. You know that your father wore a fur occasionally?" He nodded. "Well, I have retained a few of them, as a..." her voice faded away.  "Anyway, I shall give them to you. They might be too large, but, well, you might get some use from them." Her hand again rested on his. "Definitely more use than I have. I had intended having them restyled, but just didn't have the heart to do so." She thought for a minute. "However, you must never masturbate in them... no that's not right. You must not rub your cock in their fur, all right? I've seen what happens to your umm toys." He nodded. "Good. Now, shall we eat in, at the Rotunda, or go out?"

Steven wandered around the salon, he eyes not knowing where to linger longer. He hoped his breathing was even, because he felt his heart was racing faster than after a mile race. He had expected a visit later on in the week, but to be told after breakfast that she had made an appointment with Andre for 10.30, that had started his heart racing and now, he felt that his heart was about to burst. The shimmering reflections of subtlely placed lighting on the guardhairs, the aroma of perfume and fur, he was grateful that he had worn loose fitting slacks, because his penis was certainly growing with each passing moment at the thought that he would be wearing, would be wearing, damn, there were too many to chose from.

Katarina watched as Steven roved round the showroom, at the same time listening and replying to Andre's banalities. After years of practise, she had it down to a fine art. Unbeknownst to her, so had Andre, who also watched Steven as he walked around, occasionally reaching out and caressing a sleeve. Finally, both turned to face each other, Katarina knowing she need not worry, nor state the purpose of her visit.

"Stefie, come here." He approached and stood before them both, eyes struggling to remain on either one of them. The lure of the fur.... "I've an appointment at the beautician, so I shall leave you in Andre's capable arms." She bent forward and kissed him on the lips, then turned to Andre, "Remember, he's a virgin, so don't get him into the expensive ones, just yet." Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. Andre smiled graciously, and escorted Katarina to the door, kissed her on the cheek, and closed the door after she left. Steven's eyes had roamed around the salon again.

"Steven, see anything that you like?" Steven was amazed that he said it without a sarcastic smile, without a hint of laughter whilst all he could do, as a reply, was grin. Andre nodded, knowingly and then smiled broadly, his smooth face suddenly getting wrinkles, deep wrinkles, almost as a prune. The deep laugh was full of life. "After all these years, you suddenly want a fur." He shook his head in amazement. "I must be losing my touch at not having picked it up before. Then again, I might have not been interested in a skinny kid in jeans and sloppy joe." He reached out and took Steven's arm, "Come, time to see what will fit, and what it is that you want to fit."

Standing beside a table, Steven found himself being measured expertly. Andre held the pad, pen, and tape in alternate hands that whipped around his body, jotted, whipped, jotted. Finally, pen and tape were placed on the desk. Andre turned on his heels, went out through a curtain, and returned holding a white mink coat.

"Try this on for size." Steve went to remove his jacket; Andre shook his head and assisted in getting the coat on. "I want to make sure that I have at least one coat in stock that fits. Hmmm... "He tugged and pulled, adjusting the coat. Steve did not move until the pressure of tugs nearly unbalanced him. Andre stopped and cleared his throat. "So, do you prefer mink, fox, sable, marten, lynx, coyote, raccoon or something else?"

"Yes please." Steve chuckled. "Sorry, sir, but I've dreamt of saying that many a day and night. Mum didn't give any hints?" Andre again shook his head. "Well, I do have a preference for fox... and sable... and lynx."

Andre's forehead was now a prune, as his eyebrows rose in unison. A couple of blinks, then "Okay. A man with definite taste, if not broad descriptive powers. With the fox, do you prefer blue, red, white, silver, crystal, golden isle, or platinum? The sable; Russian, Canadian, Barguzin, or Golden? Lynx; American, Canadian or Russian?"

Steven smiled, and could feel his face reddening. He turned his gaze to his reflection in the corner of mirrors.

"Did mum set a budget?"

"Ah, a budget. Not specifically. Now, I know that you have some furs, "Steven blushed again, "but not of very good quality. If I understood Katarina correctly, they are mainly fox stoles and jackets, correct?" Steve nodded, still looking at the reflected image, his mind frantic about what else his mum had said and how detailed it had been. The white mink did seem to be a bit loose around the shoulders, but tight around the waist and hips. "So, I think we shall stay with the furs you know. Come with me." Steven followed Andre to the far corner of the salon. A rack of fox furs bending round the corner mirrors at either end, and between them, furs, fox furs, coats, jackets, strollers. His hand reached out and caressed the nearest sleeves. "Any particular fur take your eye?"

Steven carefully looked along the rack. Silver, blue, red, white, crystal, and a couple of colours that he did not know. He took a deep breath. "Are these Saga foxes?"

Steven trembled as he removed his purchase from the box. He felt the weight of the coat, breathed in its aroma, and buried his face into the deep fur. Andre had been right. It was the coat for him. After four hours, it had come down to two coats, and this one well, it just cried out to him. Katarina was in her room, preparing for supper, a task that he was also supposedly doing, but the fur kept on calling him. He went to the closet and took out a hanger, stopped, replaced it and laid the coat on the bed. In his tattered suitcase, he found the stole he had brought with him, and its hanger. He removed the stole, slipped the coat onto its new hanger, and then hung it from the top of the ensuite's doorjamb. He stroked the coat, opened his shirt, and rubbed his chest against the guardhairs. He could feel his nipples responding as was his penis as the thousands of fingers tickled and teased his flesh, seeking and finding each pore and damn, he wanted to bury his cock in that coat, feel the fur against his naked body.