The mansion was meant to be unoccupied.
Your client had assured you it would be, given explicit instructions for your target, even an optimal route through the air vents, where you now lay, looking down into a warm and stately room that was most definitely occupied! Compared to the dull metal of your surroundings the room looks positively decadent, golden firelight illuminating lush red carpets, a large round bed made up in glossy red silks and surrounded by sumptuous burgundy couches, the dark leather contrasting the bare skin of the seated and very naked women.
You can feel yourself blushing hotly under your facemask, your embarrassment rather ironic given you’re wearing black climbing gear and a grey beanie in the vent of a mansion you are definitely not supposed to be in. But it was meant to be empty, so why is there a room full of naked people! Several of them have glasses of wine, one mug of beer held in the hand of a tall woman with short black hair and large feline ears… wait. You lean closer, placing one gloved hand on the vent, which immediately crashes open.
You’re lucky the bed is underneath the vent, the mattress thick enough to cushion your sudden and violent landing. You hear gasps of shock, realise you have mere moments to take advantage of it. You open your mouth, look forward, and find yourself staring up into the slitted, amber eyes of a woman so radiantly beautiful she takes your breath away.
She’s reclining in a leather armchair between the sofas, the gleaming red of her dress and the glossy black of her long hair matching the glossy black fur of her ears and the gleaming red of her full lips, their corners smiling around the white tips of fangs.
“Good evening,” she remarks with bemused interest.
“Uh…” you manage. You sense movement around you, and realise with a sinking feeling that you’ve missed your chance. But still you try.
“Well, that concludes our annual security check!” Your tone is one of bold confidence, not a hint of panic as you start to rise with painfully measured ease. “You should receive our full security report in the morn-”
You make it to your knees, but no further, your nonchalant attempt to stand stopped by a very firm hand on your shoulder. You look up, find yourself pinned under the icy glare of the tall woman with short black hair, her jaw set and her slitted blue eyes freezing you in place.
You sigh, “Yeah I didn’t think that would work.”
You feel another hand settle on your other shoulder, look the other way to gaze not as far up into the hazel eyes of a curvy blonde woman. Her large round glasses and freckles look indecently cute amidst her short fringe and tossled golden ringlets. She’s smiling warmly down at you, and it takes you a moment to notice the white tips of her canines or the shaggy white fluff inside her blonde ears.
Her voice is warm and earnest. “It was a spirited attempt.”
You tear your gaze away, look forward to the singularly dressed woman, still reclining in her chair, regarding you with patient curiosity. Without looking she reaches to the small round table beside her chair, her black claws clinking around the crystal of a stemless wine glass. The liquid looks a richer red than you’d expect, with a hint of brown. Fortified wine maybe, you hope, as she brings it to her scarlet lips and takes a luxuriously slow sip, closing her eyes and inclining her head as she joyfully swallows. Her lips part, and she lowers her gaze on you again.
You swallow too, but manage to keep your voice level as you remark, “You seem busy. I can come back later if - ow -” your second attempt to stand stopped by the black-haired woman tightening her grip like a vice, her claws digging into your shoulder.
The seated woman glares up at her. “Kana. We do not hurt guests in this house.”
The tall woman, Kana apparently, relaxes her grip. She says nothing, though her black ears are perked and one dark eyebrow is raised, a shadow of movement flashing behind her as her fluffy black tail swishes in annoyance.
She’s a kitsune! Or a vulpawere, you aren’t sure which word is right. You’ve met nekowere before, spent a truly amazing night with one discovering just how inhumanly strong and enthusiastic they could be, so viscerally enjoying every scent and taste of you. But this is your first time meeting a kitsune, several in fact, the couches still holding a strikingly beautiful orange haired woman with warm blue eyes and a knowing smile that makes your heart leap, and on the other coach a pair of lithe twins with short caramel hair and very large white ears both sitting on the edge of their shared seat, intensely dark eyes staring hungrily at you. Six kitsune, five very visibly naked, a fact you are deliberately not examining further, even as your treacherous mind wonders if the same traits applied here, both the strength and the…
“I do apologise,” the seated woman’s voice draws you back to her world, “pain is such a callous way to get someone to obey, especially when there are such,” she takes a long and meaningful sniff of her ‘wine’, staring at you over the glass, “sweeter alternatives.”
You swallow. “Delicious baked goods?”
You feel Kana’s hand tense on your shoulder, as does the blonde woman’s in time with a barely stifled laugh.
The seated woman raises an elegantly shaped eyebrow. “However. If you are to be treated as a guest in my house, I think it’s only fair we see your face.”
You breathe in sharply through your mask. “Um, well actually I have a rare skin condition that prevents me from -” Kana pulls the mask from your face “- aaand never mind.”
The twins gasp, the orange-haired woman biting her lip in a way that undoes you, even more than the steady gaze of the seated woman and the way the corner of her lips raises with interest.
They’re all staring at your bare face, and you try not to shrink before their gaze, feigning polite interest as you ask, “What? Did the mask smudge my lipstick again?” You don’t ask if your five o-click shadow is showing through your concealer, nor any of the other self doubts their gaze is bringing to the surface.
A gentle but firm hand takes your chin, pressing underneath to lift your suddenly unresisting gaze up to face the blonde-haired woman. Her glasses make her eyes look bigger, the flecks of green shifting as her slitted pupils swell. She smiles with earnest interest. “Why do you wear lipstick under your mask?”
“I, um,” you struggle to think with her fingertips holding under your chin, pressing into a point that seems to have turned off your spine. You take a defiant breath. “To make me feel pretty, why else?”
She just keeps smiling warmly down at you as she strokes her thumb over your chin. “Not just feel pretty.” She raises her other hand to slide your beanie off the back of your head. You try not to shrink again, knowing your messy and cheaply bleached pink hair must look -
“Beautiful,” the blonde says with an earnest smile.
Oh no, gendered complements, your one weakness! You can feel the swell of gender euphoria, intense and exhilarating, try in vain to push it down even as she stares directly into your eyes, really seeing you, and saying with absolute honesty, “You’re gorgeous! What’s your name.”
“Vili,” you hear yourself say. Your eyes widen. Why did you just give your real name?!
“Vili,” the blonde smiles, making you breathe in sharply at the thrill of your chosen name in her mouth, “Such a pretty name.”
“Th-thanks,” you stammer, adding on automatic, “I picked it out myself.” You mentally kick yourself - you’re so used to making that joke you didn’t even think if it would be safe to do so here! What is wrong with you?!
The blonde laughs sweetly. “Wonderful choice. I’m Amelia by the way. It’s lovely to meet you Vili.”
You breathe out shakily, the anxiety in your heart melting into the warmest joy. Stop falling in love with her you idiot!
Amelia lets go of your chin, letting you turn forwards with a carefully calm expression. The seated woman is still regarding you as she takes another sip of her drink, her black tail swishing behind her shoulders.
“So then,” she places her glass down with a meaningful clink, before turning back to you, pinning you under her golden stare. “What, Miss Vili, are you doing in my house?”
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