They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Others add, "then cut upwards through the sternum," but enough of bayonet drill.

In any event, there are a few things that deer especially like. Long-stemmed roses and salted acorns are among these.

However, there can be way too much of a good thing.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I think Reggie Buckhorn is cute.  And he seems to be...well, I'm not sure, really.  I mean, a can of salted acorns and a bouquet of roses would have been a sweet gesture.  But cases and cases of acorns and bushel upon bushel of roses?  It's a bit much.

Les has gone out to "have a word" with Reggie about his, er, generosity.  I've asked him not to get too violent.  (smile)

(Later)

Well, the rose problem is solved, for the nonce.  It turns out that there is a small but competent perfumerie on Spontoon (the place is remarkably well self-contained) and I've struck a deal for Mr. Hakatooie (an unfortunate name for a perfumer, but he's the only game in town) to render the bushels of blooms down into perfume.  In fact, I should actually turn a profit on the deal.  Hooray for my side! The workers from "Chez Puanteur" have finished loading the roses into a truck, leaving only a few bouquets around.  Think I'll take a can of acorns and a bouquet of roses out for a walk and a snack.

(next day)

Um.

Well, the walk and snack went well.  I alternated mouthfuls of roses and acorns.  Yummy!  And it was a delightful evening for a stroll. The acorns had made me a bit thirsty, so I cast about for a suitable watering hole.  A well-lit sign advertised a bistro called "The Double Lotus", so I headed over.  The doorman was a litle unusual, being a tall and tough looking jaguar fem, but the sign next to the door (a mock-crudely lettered "BOYZ NOT ALLOWD") tickled my fancy and I went in.  Frankly, the idea of getting away from males for a bit appealed to me.

Now, I'm not totally inexperienced, but...well, I was expecting something of a social club atmosphere and...well, some of the customers were getting a bit more cosy with each other than I'd find...Oh, well.  Live and let live, I say.  Not my cup of tea, but with some of the things I've done in my life, who am I to judge?

I seated myself at the bar.  "Pink gin, please."

The barkeep, a dark haired cheetah who could be described as "pleasantly plump" (the proper term in Gnu York City is "zaftig") smiled and served me a tall, cold glass of iced gin.  "Welcome to the Double Lotus!  Don't think I've seen you here before..."

I grinned.  "Nope.  It's my first time."

The cheetah grinned, not showing teeth. "I'll be gentle, then..."  I must have blushed furiously, as she backpedaled a bit.   "Whups!  Sorry.  Just kidding."

"Oh, that's..." I took a sip of gin and smiled again.  "Not a problem."

The barkeep looked relieved.  "Whew!  I'm glad."  She extended a paw. "Rosalie Baumgartner.  Call me Rosie. And you are...?"

I shook her paw, still smiling.  "Fawnsworthy.  Willow Fawnsworthy."

At this point, for some odd reason, the piano player started playing a rather jaunty chord progression that might be associated with, say, a cinematic super secret agent. Rosie shot her a look.  "Toni! Knoggitoff, awready!"  The slender tigress at the piano snickered and went back to tinkling pleasant background music.

Rosie shrugged.  "My partner."  I shot her a look, and she hastened, "Vaudeville and burlesque, I mean.  We're not...never mind.  You may have heard of us?  Rosie Palmer and Toni DePantera?  Spots and Stripes Forever?"

I giggled.  "Great stage name, but I've never been to a burlesque show."

Rosie grinned.  "Eh, it was a good living. We decided to hang it up after... what was it, Tone, twelve years?"

Toni nodded.  "Yeah, five in vaudeville and seven in burlesque, more or less.  Rosie played the piano and I danced."

I raised an eyebrow.  "You're a good pianist, too."

"We would switch off on occasion," Rosie said.  I felt my ears go red again.  Rosie shot me a look.  "Piano and dancing, silly."

Toni started playing some booming chords and sang, "Oh, take your mind from the gutter, dear/For my snorkel you do block..." She snickered again and resumed her ivory-tickling.

I laughed, and Rosie looked pleased.  "So, what brings you to the Lotus?"

Over the course of a few gins, I explained about Reggie and the roses and acorns and some of my other adventures with Les since leaving the States.  Others at the bar chimed in with some of their "war stories" and a nice little party ensued, with the result that I got pleasantly sloshed.

I don't recall too many more details of that evening, but apparently, despite the sign out front, some handsome fellow with spots showed up because I remember having a VERY pleasurable time in one of the upstairs bedrooms...and falling asleep without any of my semi-regular nightmares.

The next morning, I woke up to a gentle cool breeze blowing in through a screened verandah.  Looking around, I saw that I was in a strange (but very pleasant and airy) bedroom.

Let's see.

Went out for a walk and a snack.  Check.
Got thirsty.  Check.
Went into the Double Lotus.  Check.
Had several gins and a nice little bull session.  Check.
Went upstairs and had a very good time.  Um.
Glance over at bed partner.  Er.
Notice that bed partner is Rosie.  Uh-oh.

I slumped back on the pillow and muttered, "Did we do what I think we did?"

Rosie looked over, a sly grin on her face.  "Are we...awake?"

I looked down.  "Are we...naked?"

Rosie nodded.  "We are." I raised the bedclothes.  We were both in the fur.

I sighed and looked up.  "Then we're awake, but we're very, very confused."

Rosie chuckled.  I glared at her.  "It's not funny.  I'll have you know I'm a good Catholic girl."

"Good, hell, you were GREAT!" Rosie assured me.  I must have looked utterly stricken.  "Don't worry," she said, looking concerned. "Nothing serious happened.  Little tickling, little heavy petting, lotta smooching.  I think you needed the attention."  Rosie snickered a bit.  "Your honor is as intact as it was when you came in.  No zucchini were harmed in the production of last night's entertainment."

"I...don't think I want to know about zucchini," I said slowly. "Except, maybe, as an entree."

Rosie nodded.  "That's for the advanced classes anyway.  You're still an inspired beginner."

I yawned. "Okay, okay.  I'll take your word for it.  You seem to be an honest sort, if vaguely depraved."

Rosie grinned.  "And I'm cute, too!"

And cuddly.  I recommend Rosie for a good snuggle, as we drifted off for another few winks, an arm around each other.

An hour or so later, we had breakfast on the verandah.  The Lotus is run like a good hotel; all of my clothes (which, according to Rosie, I had broken some speed records in removing.  I have my doubts.) had been cleaned, pressed and folded and, after breakfast, a shower (which took a bit longer than it might have, thanks to Rosie's ingenuity with a loofah) and a warm smooch from Rosie, I was on my way back to my hotel, a spring in my step and a smile on my face.  I arrived just in time to see a rather disheveled and malodorous Les entering the lobby.

"Morning, Willow," he said with somewhat hungover cheer.  "The acorn situation has been solved."

"Great!" I said.  "Looks like you were celebrating."

Les nodded.  "You could say that."  He yawned.  "The local drunk tank is definitely...well, never mind.  You look chipper.  Sleep well?"

I nodded.  "Like a top.  Stayed with a friend.  No-one you know, I think."

"Well," Les said, holding the elevator opening for me, "Seems to have done you a world of good."

"Yes," I said, deadpan, "you could say that Rosie was the quicker picker-upper."

I shall cherish the expression on Les' face to the end of my days.