Dogs Chase Squirrels 8 - Tracks

“ -- so I told that prick, ‘Oh, yeah?  Well, how ‘bout I shove my guitar up yer arse?  Ya paid for the ticket, and you get what you pay for!”  A raucous peal of laughter burst out from between Zara and Irene alike as the dingo slapped her palm against the table.  Camelia, lost in thought, flinched at the loud thumps that followed, looking incredibly small in her seat.

In all fairness, she wasn’t just out of her depth -- the club itself did a lot to distract her from both her date and the third wheel that stuck around.  Tracks was like nothing she had seen before.  The entire nightclub looked much larger than the outside let on, its roof rising a good two stories up, almost pressing on three.  A series of spotlights were installed across the walls, casting a myriad of colored lights across a tiled dance stage that covered well over half of the floor, designed with pressure-sensitive lighting that left an imprint with every step anyone took on the floor.  

Across the length of the second story ran a set of fluorescent black-lights, casting everything in a dark purple glow, adding to the club's surrealism.  The stage itself was packed with a variety of twenty-somethings, all of them dancing to the beat, and enjoying more than just the music -- all arranged by a DJ that sat in a booth, also on the second story of the structure.  They appeared to be a cute androgynous skunk, wearing baggy clothing and a pair of sunglasses, much to Camelia’s confusion, but their ability to operate their panel was nothing short of impressive.

It was all a little much for the Labrador -- something Zara picked up on rather quickly as she decided to lighten the mood.

“So!  What are you two drinkin’?” Zara shouted as the DJ spun up the next track -- a mixture of techno and a nostalgic pop song from the late 80's.

“Could you get me a Jack and Coke?  Double up the shots!” Irene replied, raising her voice over the noise from the numerous speakers installed across the entire building.  “How about you, Camelia?”

“I...uh...I don’t really drink.”

Irene and Zara shared a look with each other at Camelia’s timid response  The former was confused, if not a little dubious.  The latter, however, looked as if someone had run up to her and punched her straight in the jaw.  She leaned forward, closing the distance between herself and the smaller canine.

“Awright, I’ve never met a single person that didn’t like getting knackered on a Friday night!  What are you, twelve?”  Camelia’s face contorted at Zara’s accusation -- there was a hint of sarcasm in the dingo’s jab, yet the bite behind her words were still painfully sharp.

“Hey, none of that, Zara.  Remember our deal!” Irene quipped, causing the dingo to grumble something to herself, taking her seat.  “You sure you don’t want something, Camelia?  I mean, this is a night club.  Would be kind of strange if you were the only one sober!”

“It’s not that I don’t like alcohol.”  Camelia rubbed one of her ears, smiling a little sheepishly.  “I just...don’t handle alcohol very well.  I usually save it for special occasions, and only in small amounts.”

“So what yer saying is that yer a lightweight,” Zara said, a devious smirk on her face.  “Well!  All the more reason we need to get you pissed drunk!  Tell you what, I’ll buy the first round!”

“N-no, you really don’t --”  Camelia felt a hand clamp down her shoulder, causing her to yelp.

“Just...let it happen, Camelia.  Trust me, once Zara’s set on something, you’re better off getting out of her way.”  Irene shot Zara a glance, speaking with her eyes more than her lips.  Don’t you dare go overboard with this, dingo.

Zara’s eyes widened at the squirrel woman’s intense stare.  “Uh.  Well, what do ya like to drink?  I can see if the bar can make something for ya.”

“Um, I don’t really like anything too heavy.  Something fruity?  Or bubbly, maybe?”

“Say no more, I know just the thing!  Wait right here!”  Zara shot up from her chair, nearly knocking it over as she crossed the dance floor to the bar on the opposite end, earning herself more than a few glances of interest -- ones she returned with earnestness, even giving a rather perky ferret a suggestive wink as she passed by.  Irene watched the dingo as she waded through the crowd, shaking her head.

“Ugh, I don’t know what I’m going to do with her,” Irene complained.  She returned her attention to the Labrador -- she had been browsing her surroundings apprehensively, her shoulders raised.  “Are you sure you’re alright?  You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Yes.  Yes, I’m fine.  I promise.  It’s just...well, you said it yourself.  It’s a lot to take in.  I didn’t expect this place to be so...so large!”

“Told ya so!  Like I said, they don’t mind shifters here, as long as you’re well-behaved.  The rest of the city might look down on us giants, but as far as Tracks is concerned, we’re people, just the same as anyone else!”

“But...Zara’s the tallest one here,” Camelia countered.  “And everyone’s staring at her!”

“Oh, Zara’s always been one to stand out, giant or not.  Wait, I told you she was a shifter, right?”

“You didn’t have to.  I felt it.”

“Oh.  Yeah, figured you would have, heh.  Still can’t figure out how that works between us.  It’s almost like our own secret handshake!”

Camelia smiled at Irene -- this one genuine.  “Well, everyone’s a little different.  Zara felt...explosive.  Overflowing with energy.”

“Yeah, that’s her alright!  Um...how about me?  How did I feel?”  Irene leaned in, her face close to Camelia’s.  Her eyes darted away, her smile widening sheepishly.

“Exotic, yet...gentle.  There’s a playfulness to you.  It’s almost --”

“Electric?” Irene jumped ahead of Camelia’s reply.  The canine’s ears reddened as she nodded.  Irene leaned in even closer, enough to feel Camelia’s breath on her lips.  “I felt the same way.  About you, I mean.  And I must say, I like what I’ve felt so far.”

“Oh.  I...um...I feel the sa --”

“Drinks are on, fellas!”  Zara’s voice bellowed as she placed a large glass in front of Camelia, inadvertently separating the squirrel and Labrador from each other.  Her arm was wrapped around another glass, which she took in her now-free hand and placed in front of Irene, the smell of whiskey apparent to her well before Zara set the glass down.

“Geez, they’re not playing around with the drinks tonight.  There’s more booze than soda in this!” Irene lifted the glass, sniffing at it before taking a sip, reeling back in shock.  She coughed once.  “Whew.  Yep.  Definitely got all Jack on that one.”

Camelia did the same with her glass, sniffing at its contents.  The glass was filled to the brim with a light brown liquid and packed with ice, a myriad of scents bombarding her sense of smell.  “What is this?”

“Long Island iced tea,” Zara proclaimed, returning to her seat with a gigantic glass of beer in her hand.  The smell of hops tickled the pair’s noses over their own drinks; an IPA of some sort, possibly a double.  “Figured it would have a lot of what you'd like.  Told them to add more cola so it would be more bubbly for ya!”

“You got me an iced tea?  Not that I don’t enjoy tea, but, who adds soda to tea?”

“No, it’s not tea, they just call it that because -- y’know what, just try it, you’ll love it!  I promise!”  

Zara chuckled, taking a long draw out of her glass.  Camelia brought her glass up as well, taking a small sip.  The flavor was strong, but oddly sweet.  She could make out several flavors, but couldn’t put a name to any of them, aside from the cola.  Zara was right -- it didn’t taste like any tea she’d ever had before, and if there was any mixed in, the other ingredient completely overpowered it.  Her cheeks felt hot as she swallowed.  

“Whatcha think?” Zara asked.

“You’re right.  This is...spectacular!”  She smiled, taking a much larger drink of her cocktail, her tail wagging faster.

“Um, maybe you shouldn’t drink that so fast,” Irene cautioned.

“Oh, it’s alright.  This isn’t as bad as I thought!”  Camelia’s tone had softened in a very short time, giggling between sips as more of her drink vanished with each second.  The music grew louder as the trio relaxed, taking in the scenery.  The DJ switched to something more modern, mixing a recent radio hit with a hint of disco; it was a strange combination, but it worked in its own way.  Irene couldn’t help but ponder what a DJ might do with a bit of jazz in their repertoire; perhaps she’d have to pester them about adding her first CD to their mix.  Whenever Frank got around to setting up a recording session and wasn’t blowing smoke out of his ass, anyway.

Zara, on the other hand, grimaced as she drained what remained of her cup, wincing at the bitter taste.  “Gah, this music is absolute crap.  Don’t they have anything good?  I’d kill to have some Anarchy right now.”

Irene chuckled at her companion.  So did Camelia -- rather loudly.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure Anarchy would scare half the kids off here, and the other half wouldn’t get it,” Irene said.  “Besides, I don’t mind the selection.”

“God, you’re making us sound old,” Zara said with a playful sneer, chiding the squirrel.  “Then again, I do miss the ol’ days of punk music.  Good punk.”

“You weren’t even born then,” Irene commented, smiling wryly.  “Not that I’m saying you’re a poser.  You’re more punk than anyone I know.”

“Damn straight I am, and don’t ya forget it,” Zara replied, holding her empty glass with the tips of her fingers.

Another burst of laughter followed as the Labrador leaned back in her chair, her own glass completely empty.  Her tail wagged to and fro at a lazy pace as she pressed the palm of her hand against the side of her head.  Apparently, she found what Zara said highly amusing.

“Man, you want to talk about old?” Camelia said, her speech slurred.  “You should come to my library.  We’ve got...books so old, they’ve got wrinkles…on their covers!”  Another burst of belly-shaking laughter caused Camelia to slap the table with her palm repeatedly, making the entire thing shake hard enough to make her glass tip over, ice and all.  Zara and Irene exchanged looks with one another as Camelia struggled to compose herself.

“Um...you doing okay?” Irene asked.

“Oh, I’m great.  I’m...great.”  Camelia’s eyes were half-lidded behind her glasses as she lifted up her cup to bring it upright, only succeeding to make a mess in the process.  “And you know what else is great?  Whatever the hell was in this glass!  Speaking of, I…I think I want another one.  Who wants another one?”

Zara laughed.  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!  You know what?  I’ve got this round too.  Sit tight!”  Taking Camelia’s cup, she made her way back across the bar, mostly disappearing into the crowd.  Irene slid her chair next to Camelia, who gazed dreamily ahead.

“You know, that wall isn’t nearly as interesting as the rest of this place, I promise.”

Camelia slowly turned her head, laughing once more.  “I love this place.  I’m so glad I came.”

“You’re really enjoying yourself.  I hope it’s not just the booze talking.”

“Oh, no, I’m always like this!  I just need...a little push, that’s all.  Juuuust a push.”  Camelia thrust her hands forward, mimicking a pushing motion as she leaned back in her seat -- far enough that she nearly toppled backward.  Quick on her feet, Irene rose up to catch the Labrador and the back of the chair before she tumbled over it completely, giggling to herself all the while.

“You were not kidding about handling your alcohol,” Irene said.  “Not that you’re not incredibly cute when you’re drunk.”

Camelia just grinned as Irene’s fingers tangled themselves in the blonde portion of her hair, helping to keep her upright.  “Careful now.  I might just want to kiss you if you keep flattering me.”

“Yep, you’re hammered.  But, I’ll never turn down a compliment.” Irene helped bring the chair, Labrador and all, back up, gently poking the Labrador on the tip of her nose with a finger once she did.  “Just go a little easy on the drinks, yeah?  Long Islands are no joke.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.  I’m fiiiiiine.  Just…”  Camelia let out a hiccup, before another debilitating giggle disrupted her train of thought.  She didn’t have to wait long, as Zara returned with another glass full of liquor.  Her glass didn’t say full for long, either -- Camelia took it in both hands, drinking it down entirely with a few deep swallows.

“Damn,” Zara complimented before she even reached her seat.  “Color me impressed!  Wanna go for three?”

“Okay, time out.”  Irene shot up out of her chair.  “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but...why don’t we let her work off the first two?”

Camelia shot up out of her chair as well, her cheeks red underneath her golden fur.  “I want to dance.  Who wants to dance?”

Zara grinned, downing more of her beer.  “The music sucks, but I’d love to see what moves ya got.  You’re on!”

Irene looked at Camelia, unable to hide her concern.  Zara walked behind her, leaning down to whisper into her ear.

“She’s all yours,” Zara said, her voice between a growl and a hiss.  “Just don’t have too much fun.  The night’s still young.”  The dingo gave Irene a knowing wink before she took to the dance floor, its lighted tiles illuminating her every step as she began to move to the beat, if somewhat stilted.  Irene gazed returned to Camelia, who stared into her eyes pleadingly.

Zara’s right.  This is what I wanted -- Camelia’s finally loosened up and ready to party.  There’s no way I can waste this chance.

Irene grasped Camelia’s hand tightly.  “Shall I have this dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Camelia replied, her speech more slurred than before.  Irene grinned as she guided Camelia towards the dance floor just as the music changed again -- this time a mixture of two songs straight out of the nineties.  Camelia beamed as her ears waggled.

“Oh, I love this song!  Well...one of these songs, but I love it anyway!” she shouted as she suddenly passed by the squirrel, much to her surprise.  Heading straight for the center of the dance floor, she began to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips as she closed her eyes, losing herself to the beat.  Irene watched as Camelia began to dance in rhythmic motion, whistling to herself.

“Wow, you’ve got some moves on you, girl!” she exclaimed.  Not one to let someone else have all the fun, Irene joined in, matching the Labrador’s moves, step-for-step, watching those hips gyrate against the short hem of her pink skirt as she raised her arms up, losing herself to the beat.  Irene’s face felt hot as she watched the canine strut her stuff.  If she wasn’t already smitten with the dog before, she certainly was, now.  As the neon spotlights bore down on her, illuminating her in every color underneath the sun, the squirrel’s heart raced faster, losing herself in her the dog woman’s natural beauty.

Damn, she was ravishing.

Suddenly, a strand of Camelia’s dress -- one that wrapped around her side, keeping the front and rear pieces of her outfit intact -- snapped away, dangling off of her.  Irene’s eyes caught the snap.  “Hey, babe, your dress --”

Another snap followed as her steps grew heavier.  A deep, throaty laugh escaped the Labrador’s throat as her dancing continued.  The hem of her dress began to ride up her legs as she appeared to stretch herself taller.

Wait.  That was more than a stretch.

Another snap.  And another.  Her dress was starting to literally come apart at the seams as she rose as tall as the squirrel...and then grew even taller.  Irene watched in awe as her date began to grow, unable to contain her excitement.

There we go.  Atta girl.

More and more eyes fell on the canine as she rose taller and taller by the second.  Her dress began to squeeze against her figure as she began to tax the straining fabric as she grew another foot taller...and then another.  She laughed again, before that laugh turned into a quiet, sultry moan; her tongue lapped across her lips as she tilted her head back, raising her arms towards the approaching ceiling.  Even for as tall as the building was, she was quickly approaching the surface with increasing fervor.  Irene’s tail frizzed outward as she took a step back, giving the growing Labrador more room.

That smile.  Those moans.  That sultry turn of her head, and the licking of her lips.  This wasn’t just mere expansion for Camelia.  There was an eroticism to her actions.  Her growth was more than just a change in size -- it was downright sexual.  And Irene couldn’t get enough of it.  In fact, she could feel her own clothing starting to feel tight against her body.  She wanted to join in, badly.

Irene wouldn’t get the chance, as all twenty-five feet of canine began to sway her hips back and forth, her steps growing sloppy as the alcohol did its damage.  Still caught in the throes of the music, her hip swung a little further than she intended, slamming hard into the wall and leaving a sizable dent in its wake.  A chunk of debris fell out, dropping onto a table situated underneath, causing the couple sitting around it to scramble to avoid its impact.

Despite her clumsy steps, Camelia was barely able to avoid the light fixtures, despite having her eyes closed.  Her shoulders were rubbing dangerously close to the black lights -- they were hung up by thin fiber wiring, allowing them to take some degree of abuse, but it wouldn’t be long before those would go flying, too.

Several dancers began to maneuver around the Labrador to avoid her wild footfalls, the fragile glass shielding the dance floor’s lighting system beginning to crack underneath her.  She was oblivious to everyone and everything -- and having the time of her life doing so.

“Hell yeah!” a shout erupted out; Zara cupped her hands, cheering the canine on among the scattered crowd as she seemed just about to expand a second time.  “Show everyone how it’s done!”

Camelia’s eyes fluttered open at Zara’s cry as she noticed the ceiling approaching her -- and her body shuddered to a stop.  Her vision was slightly blurred; her glasses dangled off the tip of her nose, finally sliding off and falling to the ground with a crack, the lenses shattering on impact.  She looked around the club -- everyone’s eyes were on her, not just Irene’s and Zara’s.  The music had droned to an anticlimactic halt as the skunk DJ stared at her in shock.  Much of the crowd did as well, giving her a wide berth as she became the literal center of attention.

“Oh...oh, God,” she whispered, terrified as she noticed the tatters of her clothing gathered at her feet.  Her arms immediately hugged around her breasts, squeezing her legs together as she attempted in vain to hide her indecency.

“Whoa, it’s okay, Camelia!” Irene shouted up.  Camelia looked down at Irene in horror, sobering up instantly.  “Don’t stop now!”

“No...n-no, this isn’t...this isn’t right,” Camelia whimpered, her voice rising in pitch as she stumbled backward across the cracked floor.  A scream followed as an otter move out of her way at the last minute, barely avoiding being crushed underneath.  Camelia saw the otter’s reaction as she looked up at the taller canine -- a palpable mixture of surprise and fear.  And she wasn’t the only one.  Everyone was staring at her.  Only at her.  Her chest tightened as she began to hyperventilate, her eyes shooting towards the service door, far off to her right.  Going down on all fours, she bolted for the exit at a panicked pace, grasping at it with both hands.  With little effort, she lifted the shutter open with a screech of metal, making her way outside.  Despite the door being designed specifically for someone large enough to need it, having to go out on all fours made Camelia feel undignified, made all the more worse as the gravity of what she had just done hit her like a stone.

“Camelia!  Wait!” Irene shouted as the Labrador made her retreat outside.  She shot a look at Zara, throwing her hands out as if to say ‘What the hell?’ before rushing back to the table, grabbing Camelia’s coat before pursuing her out of the ruined shutter door.  

A cold wind took her breath away as she noticed a light show had started falling, covering the ground in a thin layer of white.  It made following the canine’s path easy; the further away those footprints went, the smaller they became as they led toward a residential area a few blocks away -- a cul-de-sac of quaint homes encircling a rounded dead-end.  Camelia stood in the middle of the street, holding her arms around her naked body, shivering slightly.  When she looked over her shoulder at the squirrel, she appeared to shrink further, stepping back.

“Whoa.  It’s okay.  I brought your coat.  God, you must be freezing.”  Irene held the Labrador’s coat out to her.  She looked at it with a guilty expression before reaching out, draping it over her shoulders.  It didn’t do much to protect her from the elements, but it did keep her from shivering.

“Please…don’t make me go back.”  Camelia’s voice wavered; she sounded on the verge of tears.

“I...I wasn’t going to,” Irene replied, equal parts concerned and confused.  “Why did you run off like that?”

“You saw them, didn’t you?  All those eyes, staring at me...they thought I was a monster.  You saw what I did.”  Camelia held herself tighter.

“No one thought that, Camelia!  I told you Tracks was cool!  Everyone was just surprised, that’s all!  Trust me, they’ve gone through worse.”

“Then why were they all staring at me like I was going to kill them?”  Camelia's voice rose, to the point of shouting.  “You kept going on about how they’d accept me, but that’s not what acceptance looks like to me!  Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea.  I shouldn’t have come, but you just kept insisting, but I didn’t want to say no, and look what happened --”

“Okay, stop.  Just...just stop.”  Irene’s voice began to raise as well, unable to conceal her own anger.  “I don’t know what the hell your deal is right now, but I’m not going to let you sit there and guilt-trip me like that.  I just wanted you to have fun!”

“I never asked you to do that!!  What the hell is the matter with you?”  Camelia suddenly realized she was shouting, and all at once, her composure broke down.  She pressed her head into her hands.  “Oh God.  I’m sorry, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to y-yell…”

Irene hung her head.  “No.  You’re right.  I did push you.  I just...I don’t get it.  Why are you so afraid?  This isn’t like you.  I mean, you had no problem being a giant in the park.”

“That’s because everyone there knows me.  They accept me for who I am -- what I am.  But Denver isn’t Pinewood, Irene.”

“So what?”

Camelia looked up, as if to reply, but fell silent instead.  “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You...you just wouldn’t, okay?  Look, I don’t want to talk about it.  I just want to go home.”  Camelia began to walk forward, but as she did, she lost her footing, stumbling forward.  Irene was quick to catch her before she hit the ground, her head spinning.  “I...don’t feel well.”

Irene helped Camelia to steady herself.  “Shit, you’re wasted.  At least let me take you home.  I’m not letting you behind the wheel tonight.”  Camelia hesitated, but gave the squirrel woman a fractional nod.  “Good.  Come on.  Stay close to me.”

Camelia held herself against the squirrel’s body as they walked back toward the club.  Accessing the parking lot wasn’t difficult and didn’t require going back into the club.  Irene wouldn’t be able to tell Zara she’d be leaving early -- she’d send a text when she had the chance.  Hopefully, the dingo would understand.  She didn’t blame Zara for what happened -- there was no way either of them could have known the direction tonight would have taken, and leaving Camelia by herself was too dangerous.

Irene cleaned off the seat of her moped, climbing on top as Camelia joined her, pressing her head between the squirrel’s shoulder blades, arms wrapped around her midsection.  The squirrel started up her scooter, revving the engine briefly before driving off into the night with her companion in an awkward silence.