Vixens Ch. 01

Olivia lived a quiet life for the most part, just outside the city in the home built by her grandfather. An eccentric artist, the home he had fashioned for himself was anything but 'conventional'. Built on a hillside, far enough from the road to be unseen, one might never even realize it existed.

The daily commute to the concrete jungle of her workday reality could be tedious, but she loved this home where she had grown up and the idea of selling or renting it out in favor of moving into a templated box inside a steel tower of similar boxes full of nameless faces rising each morning to march off like lemmings to work each day, and then back each night to lock themselves inside again until the whistle blew the next morning had never even crossed her mind.

Grandfather Miles had lived fairly modestly, selling his paintings to a bit of a limited clientele in the local community. It wasn't until several years after he died that a man had contacted his daughter, Olivia's mother, inquiring about the possibility that there could be a lost painting or two. Indeed there had. The cellar was a literal gallery of works that had stored carefully by the old man.

Olivia vaguely remembered the excitement in the following weeks as her mother and father agreed to allow the forgotten paintings to be shown in an up and coming urban gallery and the flurry as her grandfather posthumously made them all very wealthy with the curious paintings she had grown to love.

She did remember quite clearly, her sadness as a young girl that so many of those paintings which she had spent hours secretly running a finger over while she imagined all sorts of stories explaining the expressions on the faces of the soft faces to typical to the magical little 'people' her grandfather painted. Hours of private entertainment in that cool cellar, seated in front of one of those magical paintings that seemed to draw her inside close enough to feel the softness of the half animal, half humans. All those magical creatures with soft and fluffy, strong and lean, tall and muscular bodies with animal faces and features dressed in various periodic attire posed sometimes upright, sometimes crouched or crawling in a forest or bartering for a loaf of bread and a jug of wine....merry 'men-tigers, lusty wench does, soft and innocent kitten girls....all of them with a story for her to imagine as she wrapped her arms around her young legs and dreamed the day away.... just gone to hang in the homes of wealthy strangers, library hallways, sterile office corridors......all over the world, her childhood memories had been snatched up in a flurry.

After that, her mother and father had enjoyed great wealth, grateful to have the odd paintings of what her mother called "a crazy old man" out of the cellar. She was heartbroken and the paintings, all of them, but one that she had tearfully stolen away and hidden in one of the 'secret' cubbies of her bedroom and then long forgotten. Her parents were delighted, of course. They enjoyed great wealth after that and great relief that these curious paintings were out of their hair.

Olivia had been plucked from her grammar school and sent to private school. She was groomed and educated and refined. Years later, a respected prosecutor for the city, she returned home to live after her parents died of old age.

One summer afternoon, having a light docket that particular week, Olivia drove along the winding road to her home after lunch. She had cleared her calendar and smiled at her assistant as she announced that she would be back the following Monday. Enough was enough and she had made up her mind to tend to her own neglected gardens, get some long-overdue domestic chores done, and basically reap the benefits of her own freedoms afforded by position.

Now, speeding along the winding, evergreen lined road home, she basked in the sun as her long, red hair blew wildly in the breeze as she zoomed along, top down, in her little white sports car. It was a lovely August afternoon and the heat of summer was gradually beginning to yield to the promise of the coming autumn days. The warmth of the sunshine on her shoulders and face as she stretched a toned thigh sheathed in stocking and smiled as the hem of her proper navy skirt slid ever so slightly.

She pulled over, exited the car along the deserted road long enough to remove her jacket, fold it neatly and drape it over the passenger seat, and hopped back in just her skirt and sleeveless ivory silk and lace camisole to continue on with the warmth of mid-day sun on her shoulders. Life was good.

As she sped along, and the drone of the mid-day news on NPR lulled in the background, the announcer's voice suddenly plucked from her mental list-making to slow just a bit and turn the volume up.

"A long thought lost work of Cedric Miles titled "Urisk" resurfaced last week and sold for a surprising quarter million dollars as the works of this turn of the century artist gain in popularity again."

Olivia blinked, not quite sure if she had heard correctly. It was the match to the painting she had squirreled away so many years ago and, until this day, long forgotten. Surely, after all these years, that painting wasn't still there. Was it? She pressed the accelerator, felt the car lunge foreword and her heart raced as her mind swirled in a sudden cyclone of long forgotten memories.

Rounding the bend, clicking the remote and waiting for the iron gates to roll open, she could feel her heart slamming against her throat. It had been years and years and she hadn't thought of those afternoons in the woods down by the secluded little pond for as long as she could remember. Now, trembling, she wasn't quite sure she was ready to revist those long afternoons as a young woman....a creative, imaginative woman trapped in the expectations of a corporate father and a 'proper' mother. Were those afternoons fantasy? She had been troubled by them and, over time, successfully shoved the memories deep into the recesses of her subconscious and the flood of them now surfacing on a dime was dizzying.

She couldn't stop the avalanche, however, and the vision of that cherished painting...."Iris", stowed secretly away drove her to roar up the winding road to the house waiting like something plucked right out of a Charles Dickens novel, leaving a trail of dust behind her.

The house was odd even for today. Despite all the architect's in the world attempting something avant-guarde and unique, this home stood out. It was as if it had been plucked from a delightful fairy tale and plopped right in the middle of affluent suburbia. Between the palatial and grandiose homes of the Nuevo-riche, sat her beloved family home.

Tucked in the hillside, overlooking the 200+ acres retained by her family, was this cottage her grandfather had built. Like his paintings, it had a magical feel to it and seemed to have a 'life' of its own. It was small-ish, with lots of rounded angles. Built tucked into the side of a rise and looked out over the rolling hills of evergreen and willow trees and beyond so that the main road could be seen from the home, but the home couldn't be seen from the road.

There were hidden gardens and acres of heavily wooded land. A quiet pond fed by a babbling stream running through the property lay down the hill to the west of the house about half a mile. Huge oak, willow and spruce trees shaded the home itself and, on a still night, you could hear all sorts of wildlife off in the distance. It was a magical place.

Olivia parked the car hastily and clipped along the stone walkway. Pausing only long enough to reach and pet King, her faithful companion of many years...a big friendly chocolate lab, she was trembling as she put the key in the lock and pushed open the old heavy mahogany door.

Sunshine streamed in through the stained glass window in the entryway, spilling a pattern of color on to the mirror-like oak floor and she hurried past the old hat tree, leaving the door open and King trotting along behind her, his tail wagging gleefully.

One childhood memory after another now rushing back as if an internal VCR was set on fast forward, Olivia crossed the entry and made her way up the half flight of stairs, around the corner to the bedroom she occupied as a young girl.

Throwing the door open, she crossed to open the drapes and let some light into the room shaded by the massive willow tree shaded this part of the house and under which she had spent hours playing with one of her 'imaginary' friends. In a small nook at one end of the room, stood an antique ladies' writing desk and chair surrounded on three sides by built in bookcases.

Children's books, Nancy Drew novels, teen age romance novels, and undergraduate texts along with dolls, stuffed animals, dried corsages and the like served as a mini-archive to her childhood.

With a deep breath, she slid her hand along the inside of one end of the bookcase facing the desk and felt for the small latch recessed into the hand-tooled wood. For a split second, not finding her mark, Olivia held her breath until she felt her fingers slide over a little wooden slot with a crudely fashioned toggle. Carefully, she pressed and heard a soft 'click' as the latch opened and she pushed tentatively.

One end of the bookcase moved inward, the other toward her and she pushed harder. Slowly, the bookcase turned and she moved to enter into the small, hidden cubby behind the case.

Squinting, in the musky darkness, she waved the cobwebs away as the coolness enveloped her, giving rise to already growing gooseflesh and she shivered. Memory flooding back, her hand rose instinctively, waving in search of a single, dangling string until she felt it dangle against her hand and her pulse quickened as she pulled gently on the string. The tiny room was filled with dim light now and she looked around as she held her breath.

Little cupboards and shelves lined the walls. An old braided rug lay on the floor just as it had thirty years prior and the tape 'whirred' in her mind as she recalled many hot summer days spent curled up in here, escaping the summer heat and the world outside. Her girlhood inner- sanctum, long abandon but never quite forgotten.

As if not to disturb anything, she tiptoed now to the opposing wall and squatted in front of a little-girl height door, turning the small glass doorknob slowly and pulling the small cupboard door open.

Even in the dim light, she could see the back of the cupboard and the Framed canvas wrapped in an old flannel 'doll blanket' propped up against the wall. Her heart thudded in her chest as she pulled it out and, with trembling hands, she walked slowly, carrying it out of the hidden room into the bedroom.

Leaving the bookcase ajar, she crossed the room and sat down upon the sweet canopy bed next to the window. She pulled at the old flannel and let it fall to the floor.

There she was...after all those years.

Gazing at her from the canvas was one of her grandfather's now famed creatures. The setting was the pond just down the hill from where she sat. The soft morning light streamed through the trees and one could almost hear the chirping, gentle sounds of a forest waking up. Sunlight danced off the ripples in the otherwise glass-like water in the background as if a pebble had just been cast into the pond, getting the attention of the beautiful red fox now looking with a coy look of amused expectation right into her eyes.

This was far from any 'ordinary' fox.

She was emerging from the water....but not, as one might expect, on all fours. She was walking upright and water rippled away from her hind legs just above her knees as she moved foreword. As if caught in a very private morning bath, one 'arm' was bent upward in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal her chest to which a soaked vintage camisole clung to her obviously famine form. Shadowed, but clear, her firm pink nipples were just covered by the scooped lace and cotton and the fabric clung to the curve of her ribcage on down her tummy where the camisole ended, water streaming downward, matting her beautiful red fur between and over her firm thighs.

She had beautiful, emerald green eyes that seemed to whisper a message of quiet sensuality touched with modest amusement. A mane of curly red hair framed her face and the sun behind her created a halo-like glow, framing her face in a softness that simply took Olivia's breath away.

She simply stared for a good long while. At some point, she pulled her legs up on to the bed and slid back to come to rest against the pile of assorted, feminine pillows piled in random perfection against the headboard and leaned back with the painting propped upon her knees as she 'gave in' to the cavalcade of memories now rushing foreword.

It was the first day of summer and Olivia had, in her excitement, been unable to sleep. She had arrived home after her first year of undergraduate school and simply couldn't wait to re-acquaint herself with a life of leisure and the surroundings she had missed so after a year away. So many things had happened to her over that year and her life had changed in so many ways.

She rose at dawn, and had slipped outside into the cool morning to enjoy the solitude of an unspoiled morning. "Her time"...that lovely time of day before she must share the day with anyone else and she was free to think and to dream.

She wandered down the path, between the towering evergreens and basked in the sounds of the breeze whispering in the pine and the forest waking up.

Still dressed in the thin white Canterbury style night dress and barefoot, she padded silently to the water's edge and wrapped her arms around her as she stood next to the big old oak tree she had climbed and sat in for hours, hidden by the foliage, young girl.

As the sun crept over the rise behind the pond in front of her, she smiled. She had spent so many hours right here and what an imagination she had! It was not unusual to see any one of many species of wildlife at this pond. Deer, squirrels, rabbits, even an occasional fox.

As the light began to illuminate the pond, the sounds of splashing caught her attention and she turned to look. She blinked in disbelief. There they were! She must still be dreaming and the very idea of one of her childhood 'dreams' almost amused her as she moved to conceal herself behind the tree...just as she had many times before...and to peer around at the two foxes in the pond.

A male and a female, the foxes stood thigh deep in the water. They were just as her grandfather painted, part fox, part human. Curious. They laughed and they cooed at each other this morning and they were obviously quite fond of each other.

Olivia watched with growing interest as the strange and exciting scene unfolded before her. Many times, she had watched them...they never really aged and yet she felt she had 'grown up' with them. Iris and Urisk. But never, never had she seen them behave quite this way. They were standing, their arms were about each other, mouths joined, and they seemed lost in the affectionate embrace. Then their lips parted and they stood for a long moment staring into each other's eyes. He whispered to her as he lowered his trousers and his excitement was obvious.

Glistening in the sunshine, his swollen cock sprung up and slapped against his belly as it seemed near bursting. He placed her hand upon it as he clutched her then, in a tighter embrace. His lips met hers again in another clinging kiss and her hand began to work its way slowly up and down his excitement. His arms now slid down, clutching the firm cheeks of her naked bottom and slid up, pulling the thin cotton of her under dress up and up to expose her.

In disbelief, Olivia watched as these anthromorphic creatures cooed and caressed. She felt the perspiration burst from her face. Her lips grew hot and dry while the sensations of arousal took possession of her. The foxes moved, still locked in embrace, to move from the water and the sandy bank nearby.

He turned her around, but her hand continued stroking him as she reached now behind herself and her shoulders flattened against his huge furry chest. Olivia felt her own stirrings roar as she admired the female fox's upturned breasts and the sunshine seemed to create little stars right at her pebbled nipples.

One of his hands slid up her belly and over a breast to toy with her, while the other slid down her flank, then back up a parted thigh until his massive paw cover her sex!

Olivia bit her lip as her own hand slid under her gown and she felt her own heat rise.

The vixen's legs fell apart as his fingers pushed between her cleft and Olivia sighed as both females seemed to sigh "in unison". He bit her neck, and Olivia could see his hand toy and push and rub until she gasped so loudly she could be heard where Olivia stood. Her hips were moving and her hand fell from his groin as she became lost in his attentions.

Abruptly, but not harshly, he grasped her shoulders, spun her around and dropped to his knees. While Olivia stood watching in disbelief, he plunged his face forward as the fox steadied herself with her hands upon his shoulders and he nuzzled right in between her legs. Her head fell back on her shoulders and her hips pushed foreword as he kissed and licked her into a frenzy. When her hands tightened on his shoulders and she writhed, back arched and gasping, he eased her down to the ground and she drew her knees up as her thighs fell apart and he growled as he lowered his body over hers and their bodies moved slowly at first and then picked up speed and he plunged into her again and again and again.

Finally, bodies stiffened and she gave a startled cry as her hips jerked violently and her back arched. He growled loudly, slamming now into her until he threw his head back and his body stiffened before he collapsed in a heap atop her.

Unable to contain herself, watching and thinking of stolen gropes and kisses of the past year and the young men she had occasionally kept company with, Olivia's own toying made her shudder and slide against the rough bark of the tree. She cried out, and her body slid down until she was crumpled in front of the tree and she fainted.

When she awoke at the foot of the tree on the soft cool moss, the fox was standing above her, a look of kind amusement on his face. His trousers had been once again fastened and his matted wet chest ruff dripped upon her exposed, slick thighs. The female stood behind him, cotton clinging to her wet body and she peered around her mate with her face pressed against his side, equally concerned.

She blinked her eyes open. "Well, hello, Olivia. Welcome home, the fox smiled.

That summer proved far different than any before. She had been so embarrassed at witnessing her two 'old friends' in such a private act, yet she crept down to the pond each morning in secret hope of, again, being privy to such an erotic scene. Nighttimes, she would replay the scene in her mind as she slowly worked herself over and rubbed herself into a quivering ball of satisfaction. She had experimented with sex at school, had a handful of sexual encounters that were, for the most part, exciting yet unfulfilling. Something about watching the way the two foxes had excited her but yet.....she wasn't sure why.

One afternoon, late in the day, her parents had tried unsuccessfully to coax her into accompanying them to the city for some shopping, dinner, and the theater. Begging off with a fabricated headache, she had waved to them as they disappeared down the lane in her father's boxy Mercedes.

She simply felt like an afternoon of solitude and found herself lying on her back atop the old wooden picnic table in the Victorian picnic table near the pond.

It was a steamy July afternoon and she was dressed in a thin cotton sundress. She lay there silently, and daydreamed of nothing in particular.