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If sneer's could be heard at my attempt of maintaining a good tone , this one was about as loud as the six o' clock train. Copious blobs of drool petaled the floor as I flushed it from my spit valve, the gurgling sound deafening anything else aside from the scrabbled claws of Ray.
"Disgustin'." He hissed, maintaining a good two feet from me.
"You're one to talk, Ray." I chuckled in good nature, shaking my trumpet in my paws and standing. "At least my saliva doesn't paralyze it's victims or put holes in the floor."
The large Komodo dragon only wrinkled his nose, emitting a menacing churrled growl- I guess he didn't like my joke.
"Yer lucky you haz a good pitch or smart ass remarks like dat'll get you on the street, lezbo..." he flashed his fangs and empty threat like the high beams on a Packard continuing,” or with a good chunk outta' yer throat!"
Coming up quickly to my rescue, a gold yellow weasel smacked a hard paw on Ray's shoulder. His beaming grin was enough to light the whole club alone if not the entire metro.
"Aw, let it go, Komodo. We got practice."
The club manager glared in my direction then back at the weasel and without a word waddled backstage. I sighed with relief, somewhat taking to heart his vow but the weasel doused those fears throwing a paw around my shoulder.
"Thanks Cody...I owe you one, man. I really need these gigs."
"Hey, what'er friends for, huh? Don't mind Ray- his old lady's been on him lately."
I smirked. "Oh, which?" With that, our tension was gone in hearty chorused laughter.
Wiping an eye, Cody turned to me. "So, you get to play one on one with Morgan tonight, eh? She's a great one, that gal. Gotta' nice voice."
I cocked an ear, taking out an old bandanna to smooth over the brass of my instrument. "Morgan? I don't think-"
"Ohhh! You haven't played with her yet! I forgot! Well," my quick tongued friend smiled, "yer gonna' be in for a treat!"
As though on cue, the murmur of the band died down in the empty hall around us and in walked a fireball.
The fur, from behind my ears down to the knot of spine behind my lower neck, stood completely bristled and my breath was taken as she made her way to the stage; unaware entirely of my wide eyed gaze.
I needed a cup- not only for the Pavlov instinct to salivate but she was a nice tall drink of water! Curves that went on farther than the windy roads of the Catskills, red orange fur crackling, bursting as though engulfed by an inferno of fire but her cool demeanor doused any tension, stress or stage anxiety she may have had.
Her eyes caught me off guard the most- amidst that flame of red, white and rusty brown, they reflected the utmost blue tranquility of a Bahamian ocean. I was lost.
A paw cupped my chin and in a clack of bottom fangs painfully clashing into the top, I grimaced and turned to a giggling Cody who pointed to our stone faced drummer, signaling with his sticks we had to start. As he snapped those sticks together, time seemed to slow down. With my drawing inhale hovering over the mouthpiece of my trumpet, the hypersensitivity of the moment had me second guessing as to whether she was stealing the air from my lungs for the first confident note.

Your blood pumps fast, but you can move faster

A wheezy blat barumped from the brass bell and I grimaced, embarrassed, into my tight embrasure; quickly regaining composure, I followed up the first sentence with a swarthy scale.

It's 2 AM and you've never asked her,
"Do you like me how I am?"
But you're just her paper jam


You sure fall fast for a name and a picture
With half a choice, you'd never have picked her
Off of 4th and Main
But they all seem the same9

Her voice was incredible. A complex mixture of operatic vibrato and the sensual simplicity of jazz- giving the people what they wanted while mingling a sound completely unexpected and making those lucky enough to have leant their ears plead for more. As it was, I felt my instinctual drive to beg turning my diaphragm upside down- but kept going I did as she needed something to outshine.

"Hold me close, say I'm your friend
I'll never talk to anyone else again
Just you and me
By the lights off the back streets
I knew you the day you spoke
Tried to tell you and only choked
Now close the door
It's just us and nothing..."

"Come on in, I swear I don't bite hun!"
Cuddle up, count three-two-one
No one can stand in your way
You just want to play!

Oh, if we could play… would she bestow me that sort of pleasure? Already this melody had swept me up into some sort of euphoric cloud nine as though I’d been given a non stop belly rub or endless game of fetch. We could only keep going. I stared at her from behind, not wanting to disrupt her song- suddenly she turned her head slightly and an eye that pooled the deepest blue green snatched up the breath in my throat. I buffered another note and moved the trumpet to lick my chops before resuming our duet. I could hear Cody sniggering behind me and I wanted to knock that silly hat oh his silly block.

Your hands get stuck in the mess of her hair
"I wouldn't have bothered if I knew you'd just lie there!"
She tells you not to call
You're gonna let her get down the hall?

"Don't try to say you didn't get what you were looking for!
Don't try and tell me that I dragged you to the floor!"
There was half a word on her bittersweet lips
But it couldn't be heard above the sound of her hips...

She crescendos’ the last note, squeezing those diamond eyes shut and letting the melody carry her bubbly tone. I throw my trumpet up in a boastful competition to match her but I find myself faltering again. Once the band gets going in it’s own set, I find the confidence to pick up again- only because she’s turned in the other direction and schmoozing over the pianist. Finally, with the smack of a cymbal, my piteous wail and bantering bass line, we drive the end into a smooth, but sultry submission; the few workers there cleaning up the club before doors open give appreciative claps and our singer curtseys politely
As they resume their work and my band mates discuss the technical elements of the piece, I muster up enough guts to approach the red panda, curled up around the edge of the stage and politely laughing with the grunts. I take a seat beside her which causes her attention to be directed precisely at me.
“Great set tonight…Morgan, was it?” I flash a grin- probably too subtle of a grin, but subtly be damned! I hold out a paw, which she takes. That smaller grip is like the spark of a cherry bomb in mine, “terrific pair of pipes you got there- really set me in a nice groove.”
Her eyebrow perks as she lowers her head, her gaze combusting. “Oh, did I?” Lifting her head haughtily- no, I should say confidently, she smoothed her eyes across the empty seats. “I should keep quiet next time then- by the sound of your winded trumpet…you had thoughts elsewhere..”
She caught me. The warm glow of my pride flushed straight from me, much like the air being lightly blown to clear a valve and she had to have noticed. In an almost surreal motion, her gloved paw directly smoothed over my stomach below my diaphragm and on cue, my foot paw by second nature began to kick and an idiotic, giddy grin slathered over my maw. She rose from her place on the stage, paw slowly dragged over my fluttering stomach, long striped tail flicking to and fro; then turned to me as I regained
consciousness
“Keep your eyes on the ball, dog,” she grinned, flashing her eyes once, “you should be good at that. Don’t trust a fire cat.”
She vanished behind the darkened stage- a feat I would assume nearly impossible by her flamboyant markings and I was left dumbstruck.
“So,” the flash of yellow and my weasel friend plunked beside me, “was that a treat or was that a treat, huh?”
I turned slowly, staring down at the dusty floor and my paws firmly gripping my knees.
“She got me to stay, sit, speak and beg all in the same night….I don’t know who was given more the pleasure…”
Though our bellowed guffaws echoing the parlor made our experience seem nonchalant, I could only wonder what kind of feat I would have to pull next just for my new question to be answered “Yes”.


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This is something I was drawing before my free sketch Christmas idea and just recently finished. It's for  songmaker the red panda, who is not readily involved with the fandom (yet ;3) but is a brilliant composer, vocaist and lyricist and I had to show my appreciation for our recent, engaging conversation!
Here is some of her work as well as the original song, "The Word Wasn't Yes"
http://www.myspace.com/wheninbedford

Enjoy!