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More from Walt46
Exploitation: Ninth Floor
© 2018, 2020 by Walter Reimer
Yeah, this series started two years ago. Follow the links to get caught up:
The Hotel: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26162247/
Tenth Floor: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/28425846/
Thumbnail art © Stock Footage
I had to be careful on the stairs. The treads were worn, and the risers were starting to sag in spots. Apart from a dim lamp here and there, there was very little light. It might have been more tedious than taking the elevator, but based on my previous encounter with it the stairs were a better option. Likely safer, too.
Of course, I didn’t dwell on the fact that when Old Man Lopanearov left with his nephew (“Take whatever you want, I’m not coming back for any of it” he’d said), they took the elevator, which responded promptly when called and emitted no odd sounds as it descended to the lobby.
I tried not to think that its earlier trouble was because it didn’t like Americans.
The ninth floor landing was in almost total darkness, so I fished out my flashlight and looked around before I took a stab at opening the door. Paint was peeling, the air smelled musty, and there was very crudely written graffiti on the walls. There was also – yech – a used condom lying in a corner, under a thick layer of dust.
Well, nothing for it. I have a job to do. So I put my shoulder to the door, turn the knob, and push.
Nothing.
Oh, it wasn’t locked; I could turn the knob, and my rabbit ears could hear the bolt move back. Something was up against the other side of the door, blocking it.
This time I backed up as far as I could, got a running start, and snap-kicked the thing. The bolt snapped as the door gave way, and I felt something heavy shift. Third time’s the charm, so I got another good run up and gave it my best shot.
The heavy something shifted about a foot, teetered, and crashed, and I emerged from the stairwell with a brilliantly bright spotlight dead in my face. “Gah!” My ears twitched as I heard a gabble of surprised and angry voices in Russian mingled with slow techno music.
I blinked, and there was a mink in my face, his face twisted into an angry mask. “What the fuck are you doing here? You spoiled the shot!”
“What?” I asked, bewildered for a moment and my tail flagging.
He grabbed me by my upper arm and I stumbled over the object that had been blocking the door as two bears lifted it. It was a bookcase, apparently, and when the mink let go of me I shook myself and looked around.
Bright lights, a video camera on a tripod with a porcine cameraman grinning greasily at me . . . and the two guys under the bookcase.
Of course, a porn studio.
The pair who’d been interrupted were a wolf wearing women’s underwear and a fox who was holding onto the back of his head while whimpering. The whole scene, as it played out in my imagination, reminded me a little about my high school days when I wrote a term paper trying to reconcile Huckleberry Finn with Deliverance. While the teacher had praised the effort, I got a failing grade for it.
Asshole.
The mink got in my face again. “What the hell are you doing here? You lot should be downstairs!”
Downstairs?
Oh, damn.
I explained myself and why I was there, and the mink asked irritably, “So this place is getting demolished, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He asked, “Is it getting demolished right now?”
“Er, no.”
He clapped his paws and turned away, dismissing me completely. “Horosha! We can still get this video done and posted on the Net – Vadim! What the fuck?”
“I hit my head,” the fox said.
“It’s not your damned head I care about!” the mink shouted. “How are you going to –“
I was already out of the room, the sound of the budding Stanley Zeblock yelling at his actors growing fainter as I made my through the building’s ninth floor. Most of the rooms had been rigged up as sets for the, er, ‘industry’ that I’d barged in on, and there wasn’t anything really worth tagging for salvage.
The building had another stairwell located at the opposite corner from the studio, and to my relief it wasn’t in an area that was being used. The door was locked, but I still had all of the keys, and after sorting through them I found the right one.
The stairwell, like the other one, was pitch black, so I switched on my flashlight and headed down to the eighth floor.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2018, 2020 by Walter Reimer
Yeah, this series started two years ago. Follow the links to get caught up:
The Hotel: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/26162247/
Tenth Floor: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/28425846/
Thumbnail art © Stock Footage
I had to be careful on the stairs. The treads were worn, and the risers were starting to sag in spots. Apart from a dim lamp here and there, there was very little light. It might have been more tedious than taking the elevator, but based on my previous encounter with it the stairs were a better option. Likely safer, too.
Of course, I didn’t dwell on the fact that when Old Man Lopanearov left with his nephew (“Take whatever you want, I’m not coming back for any of it” he’d said), they took the elevator, which responded promptly when called and emitted no odd sounds as it descended to the lobby.
I tried not to think that its earlier trouble was because it didn’t like Americans.
The ninth floor landing was in almost total darkness, so I fished out my flashlight and looked around before I took a stab at opening the door. Paint was peeling, the air smelled musty, and there was very crudely written graffiti on the walls. There was also – yech – a used condom lying in a corner, under a thick layer of dust.
Well, nothing for it. I have a job to do. So I put my shoulder to the door, turn the knob, and push.
Nothing.
Oh, it wasn’t locked; I could turn the knob, and my rabbit ears could hear the bolt move back. Something was up against the other side of the door, blocking it.
This time I backed up as far as I could, got a running start, and snap-kicked the thing. The bolt snapped as the door gave way, and I felt something heavy shift. Third time’s the charm, so I got another good run up and gave it my best shot.
The heavy something shifted about a foot, teetered, and crashed, and I emerged from the stairwell with a brilliantly bright spotlight dead in my face. “Gah!” My ears twitched as I heard a gabble of surprised and angry voices in Russian mingled with slow techno music.
I blinked, and there was a mink in my face, his face twisted into an angry mask. “What the fuck are you doing here? You spoiled the shot!”
“What?” I asked, bewildered for a moment and my tail flagging.
He grabbed me by my upper arm and I stumbled over the object that had been blocking the door as two bears lifted it. It was a bookcase, apparently, and when the mink let go of me I shook myself and looked around.
Bright lights, a video camera on a tripod with a porcine cameraman grinning greasily at me . . . and the two guys under the bookcase.
Of course, a porn studio.
The pair who’d been interrupted were a wolf wearing women’s underwear and a fox who was holding onto the back of his head while whimpering. The whole scene, as it played out in my imagination, reminded me a little about my high school days when I wrote a term paper trying to reconcile Huckleberry Finn with Deliverance. While the teacher had praised the effort, I got a failing grade for it.
Asshole.
The mink got in my face again. “What the hell are you doing here? You lot should be downstairs!”
Downstairs?
Oh, damn.
I explained myself and why I was there, and the mink asked irritably, “So this place is getting demolished, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He asked, “Is it getting demolished right now?”
“Er, no.”
He clapped his paws and turned away, dismissing me completely. “Horosha! We can still get this video done and posted on the Net – Vadim! What the fuck?”
“I hit my head,” the fox said.
“It’s not your damned head I care about!” the mink shouted. “How are you going to –“
I was already out of the room, the sound of the budding Stanley Zeblock yelling at his actors growing fainter as I made my through the building’s ninth floor. Most of the rooms had been rigged up as sets for the, er, ‘industry’ that I’d barged in on, and there wasn’t anything really worth tagging for salvage.
The building had another stairwell located at the opposite corner from the studio, and to my relief it wasn’t in an area that was being used. The door was locked, but I still had all of the keys, and after sorting through them I found the right one.
The stairwell, like the other one, was pitch black, so I switched on my flashlight and headed down to the eighth floor.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Rabbit / Hare
Size 75 x 120px
File Size 42.4 kB
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