“Amanda!” Cheska tried dragging her heels, but the soft carpet in the hallway didn’t help as she was tugged along by the red-headed rabbit; being dragged unerringly into the large, master bedroom of the apartment’s owner. “Will you stop man-handling me!” She eyed the simple decor in the room, complete with a wide bed, “Randall will-!”

“Oh, do not be so worried, cheri,” Clover said, her nose wrinkling as she smiled with mischief. “Our beau-chat won’t mind . . . much, that is.” She let the purple-haired mouse go, before twirling on one foot to face the open doors of the large wall closet across the way. “Just wait, right there! We shall find something adéquat for vous.” She began fingering the hung clothes inside the closet, humming brightly, pausing briefly as she considered every shirt and garment before her.

Cheska crossed one arm under her breasts, cupping her elbow as her eyes flicked nervously to the doorway, around the room and back to the spritely rabbit. “This is invades Randall’s privacy, rabbit.”

“Oh, do not worry. Randall does not mind when I borrow some of his Vêtements personnels,” Clover said. She paused to look over her shoulder, nodding at Cheska with wink. “After all, they are most comfortable, and smell of him, soooo...?”

Cheska glanced at the long, thick jersey-style shirt she wore -- which, aside from a fetching pair of black panties was all she had on -- and blinked in comprehension. “Still, why would I need to wear . . . his personables?”

“Because, tonight is our movie-watching get-together, cheri. You should have remember that, oui?”

“No, I did not forget.” Cheska said.

“Then, you know we usually don’t watch films in our work-togs.” Cheska grinned.

Cheska blushed a bit, because Clover had a point. Ever since the three of them had been . . . well, friends, of a sort, they’d been getting together on weekends to watch movies. Both Cheska and Randall had both a large collection of classic and modern-day films, so either her place or Randall split responsibility for providing the feature presentations. Though, because he had moved into a larger, more spacious bungalow, that they had agreed to get together there. The only caviat that had also been agreed on was that everyone be as comfortable as possible.

Cheska, however, had come straight from a long shift at her garage, and hadn’t thought to stop at her home to get her usual set of pajamas.

Turning back to her search, Clover resumed her rifling through Randall’s clothes, before she made a happy sound. “Ah! This will do most nicely!” She turned back, facing Cheska with a large, cable-knit, white fisherman’s sweater.

Blinking, Cheska dropped her hands, propping them on her hips as she said, “That!? Amanda, that is hardly the proper thing to be . . .comfortable in!”

Clover looked down at the sweater, then back at the mouse. “No? I think it would be perfect for vous, Cheska. After all, it is soft, will keep you warm--.”

“Provided I wear more than just my underthings,” Cheska huffed under her breath.

“The point, bête souris,” Clover said without breaking her verbal stride, “is that you will be comfortable, while we all are curled up on the big couch.” She gave Cheska a knowing smirk. “Plus, it is our beau-chat’s favorite sweater . . . and he will think it looks merveilleux on you.”

Cheska arched one eyebrow at that. “Really.”

With a mock pount, Clover asked, “Do I ever lie, cheri?”

Sighing, Cheska said, “No . . . exaggerate, perhaps. Embellish--.”

Now, Clover made a cross sound. “Myska! Just go along with moi, please?” She held out the sweater and added, “After all, would you not do this for our beau?”

At that, Cheska puffed out her cheeks and let out a slow, hiss of breath before she began fussing with her work shirt. “The things you make me do, rabbit....” Her words trailed off as the large, fluffy-soft garment sailed across the space between them, landing on her head to cover her like a blanket.

“You admit, you would not do it, if you did not like our beau-chat du’ soleil,” Clover said fondly, stepping over to sit on the edge of the bed to watch as Cheska attacked her work clothes. The rabbit watched unabashedly as she stripped down to her bare essentials -- a gray bandeau-bra and panty set -- before holding the sweater out in front of her and, with a resigned sigh, slipped it over her head. Clover giggled softly as she appeared to be wrestling with herself inside the large garment, before popping both arms and head out of the appropriate openings. “Ah, volia! I knew it would be perfect on you, cheri!”

Taking a moment to settle the sweater’s neck folds on her shoulders, Cheska looked down at herself. “Well . . . it is not, uncomfortable.” she admitted.

“Uh-hmmm?” Clover said, eyes bright with mirth.

“It does . . . make me feel, warm.” Cheska took a moment to side-step the pile of her work clothes, seeing a long, floor length mirror to the side of the closet. Stepping closer, she eyed her reflection; pursing her lips as she made note of the long, pattered cloth draping down her fit form. The hem of the sweater was long enough, barely breaking mid-thigh, so that it could’ve been a dress. “Yes . . . not too bad, actually.”

“As well, the most importaint part, cheri,” Clover said, folding her hands between her legs as she knelt on the bed. “It is Randall’s, which makes it all the better, oui?”

Unbidden, Cheska lifted one sleeve and sniffed, taking in the scent that could only come from the sweater’s owner. A small frission raced down Cheska’s spine, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, that is true.”

Clover gave her a smile, her nose wrinkling briefly, before she gave the mouse a wistful sigh. “Honestsly, Cheska, you’ve been harping on this for some time. Randall practically invites you to stay over all of the time now. He could practically be a boyfriend, oui?” She saw the sudden start in Cheska’s poise, so she asked, “How does that idea make you feel, cheri?”.

Blinking at her reflection, Cheska wrapped her arms around her middle and sighed. “Good,” she said softly; her cheeks turning pink, clearly surprised with herself with that admission. “I don’t know why . . . I did not seek any relationship with him. Or you,” she added, glancing back at Clover wryly before regarding her reflection again.

“Like it or not, cheri, you are stuck with the both of us,” Clover said, her tone gentle. “Besides, it is not as if mon beau has treated you terribly.”

At that, Cheska groaned with some good humor. “I know, and that is perhaps the one thing about this. I don’t encourage, yet he never stops treating me nice.” She turned and began ticking off points on one hand. “The lunches, dinners, offers to see things -- usually with you, too -- watching movies, too?” She chuckled softly. “Yet, he never asks for anything in return.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust at an old memory. “Unlike some males, I could name.”

“Un-huh,” Cheska said. Her eyes darted over Cheska’s shoulder, but moved back to stare at the mouse, while she quickly put both hands between her legs and sat on them.

“That is what makes Randall so . . . sweet, about this. He is like . . . big, fluffy friend you can be safe with.” Cheska smiled at the image her words evoked. “Never is afraid of what you might say, or think, yes?” She gradually took note of the gleeful expression on Clover’s face -- which was punctuated by several darting motions of her coffee-brown eyes -- and her talking alocades slowed to a stop as something loomed large in her realization. Going still as a statue, she closed her eyes slowly and whispered, “He, is, behind, me?” Not waiting for Clover to reply, she slowly turned her head and opened her eyes. A soft squeak of embarassment slipped past her lips as she saw Randall -- looming in the doorway, wearing an open robe and lounge pants, his hair looking damp -- and she suddenly dropped to the floor, reaching to tug the hem of the sweater down over her exposed legs.

Reaching up to tug at the towel draped around his neck, the tall, burly sun-leopard arched one eyebrow as he looked from Cheska to Clover. “Let, me guess. The Rabbit put you up to this?” Randall said, using Cheska’s oft-used moniker for Clover.

Cheska didn’t reply with words, but her darkening cheeks spoke volumes.

“Oh, mon beau! Do you think she would have thought of this on her own?” Clover leaned down to give the embarassed mouse a supportive hug. “Still, doesn’t she look lovely this way, out?”

Randall cocked his head, and gave them a half-smile. “Won’t deny that, but . . . why-?”

Clover was about to reply, when Cheska said in a rush, “She wanted us all to be comfortable, when we watch movies tonight.”

At that, Randall looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Clover nodded along with Cheska. “Indeed, Randall. Why not?”

At that, Randall pursed his lips in thought, before he shrugged and said, “Good point.” He flicked the damp towel off of his shoulders and stepped into the bed room, stepping over to the two women. “So, you don’t mind wearing . . . that, myska?”

Cheska tried not to blush too much, before she said, “Only if you do not.” She looked up at him. “Do you?” She was surprised when he suddenly dipped down and scooped her up off the floor, holding her briefly at arms lenght before he whirled around slowly in a circle. The move clearly wasn’t meant to alarm her, yet she couldh’t help herself from gripping his brawny arms.

Randall slowed to a stop, smiling as he said, “Mind? Nah. I like the way you look in my sweater.” His eyes nearly closed when his smile made his cheeks puff out. “Keep it, if you want. You can wear it whenever we have movie night.”

That clearly shocked Cheska, though the shock melted amid the delighted feeling that flowed through her. “Honestly . . . pooshok?” she asked, using her rarely used pet name for him. “Then,” she added almost shyly, “I accept.”

“Good,” Randall said. He glaced at Clover -- who was beaming like she’d just solved the world’s biggest problems -- and snorted. “Speaking of movies, Amanda . . . shouldn’t you go get the ‘box started?”

Hopping up onto her feet, Clover grinned and nodded as she headed to the door. “Oui, mon amant! I shall get the popcorn started, too. So to give you two time to get settled first!” Her flirty tone earned her a swat on the tush from Randall as she passed, and she squeaked with mock pain (though delighted all the same) as she dissapeared from sight.

Randall shook his head and sighed. “Damn that girl,” he said fondly. He glanced at Cheska, and said softly, “Sorry, Myska. I know she can be trying at times-?” His words died when Cheska pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Don’t be worried, Randall,” Cheska said. “The rabbit . . . well, I think she only wants the two of us to be as happy as she is.” She settled a bit in his arms, and blew out her cheeks. “She does make a point. We should be comfortable, when we get together, yes?’

Randall nodded, and said, “Still, that girl needs to show a little restraint sometimes. Ah, well.” He shifted her a bit, making to carry her out of the room. “Shall we set the example and go get on the couch?’

Cheska nodded, smiling more as she clung to his shoulders. “Yesh. I think that would be best, pooshok.”

# # #

Another PWYW Sketch from  pmoss featuring my dear  cheska , who's apparently gotten caught wearing the big Sun Leopard's favorite sweater. ^_^


Original Art by MossyFox / 2016
Cheska is owned by her Creator -- Cheska Mouse. Used with Her Permission.