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Carrie Prim created by Waverly Pierre III and used with permission. Artwork inked by Terrie Smith.
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When Tomorrow Comes
An erotic story plotted by Waverly Pierre and Dave Bryant
and written by Dave Bryant
This work is copyright 1998 and is not in the public domain.
Last night while you were lying in my arms
And I was wondering where you were,
Y’know you looked just like a baby
Fast asleep in this dangerous world . . .. . . And you know that I’m gonna be the one
Who’ll be there when you need someone
To depend upon—
When tomorrow comes.—“When Tomorrow Comes”, Eurythmics
“Kitten” Tom Clowder shivered, not from the chill of the early spring evening, but in anticipation. Behind him, the ancient taxi that had fetched him from the waterfront wheezed away back down Main Street. He spared it only the briefest glance, then hefted his shoulder bag and started up the walk, toward the warm beacon of lit windows in the rambling two-story house before him.
Granny Prim’s Bed and Board was acknowledged throughout the small port of Hepzibah as the best lodgings in the city. Tom knew better; for him, it had become the best lodgings in the world—no small consideration, given his interminably migrant lifestyle. He limped wearily and gratefully toward the front door, his heavy walking stick thumping on the porch.
A cheery chiming greeted his entrance, as it had every time since he’d first walked in nearly two years before. The cozy front parlor-cum-lobby was as green with plants as ever. The lanky black cat looked hopefully across the room at a prominent alcove hemmed in by the registration counter. His gaze was rewarded a moment later when a buxom female skunk popped into view behind the counter.
“Kitten!” Carrie Prim cried. “I’m so glad to see you.” She disappeared again, only to reappear from a side door, rushing to his waiting embrace. They kissed soundly, and when she drew back again, she continued, “I was getting a little worried. You’re so late.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry, Carrie. My plane was held up—fuel line trouble. It was . . . pretty exciting for a while, there.”
The perceptive young woman’s expression became concerned. “You’re saying the plane could’ve crashed.”
Tom’s eyes sheepishly avoided hers. She brushed a hand across his cheek ruff and sighed. “Well, you’re here now, thank goodness. Are you hungry?”
The tall man shook his head. “I picked up a quick supper while the plane was getting serviced.”
His hostess nodded. “Good. You look exhausted, and I didn’t want you falling asleep in your food or something. As a matter of fact, I think you should go on up to bed right now.” She stepped back and, with mock sternness, pointed at the door she’d come through. Too tired to argue, Tom essayed a wan smile and obediently headed off for Carrie’s waiting suite.
After seeing him down the hall, Carrie went back to the large kitchen to resume helping Alyson Prim—the boarding house’s co-proprietress—with dinner preparations. She was greeted by the older woman’s full voice. “Carrie dear, who was it? Tom?”
“Yes, mama. His plane had some trouble—that’s why he was late.” The silvery-haired young woman shook her head as she came up to the counter where her mother fussed over some vegetables.
As her daughter took up her interrupted task of slicing, Alyson asked half-teasingly, “What did you do with him, honey? You didn’t leave him standing around, did you?”
Carrie giggled. “Oh, mama! No, I didn’t. He looked half-dead, so I sent him straight to bed. By now, he’s probably face-down on the bedspread, still in his khakis.” Both of them laughed gently and chatted on—mostly about the vagaries of men—speeding the time spent in tedious chores.
Dinner was, as usual, a large affair, with neighbors and dinner customers as well as guests in attendance. Many of those around the table were regulars, so conversation was lively and casual. Carrie took part with her normal vivacity, though her sharp-eyed mother noted that the younger woman seemed a bit distracted.
It was well into the evening as the two skunks finished cleaning up the remains of the meal. Both were tired, but Alyson smiled as she caught her daughter’s surreptitious glance at the door opening on the hall serving the owners’ suites. “We’re almost done here, dear—I can get the rest, all right?”
Carrie flashed a broad smile and replied, “Oh, thank you, mama!” before trotting for the door. She paused briefly as her mother spoke again, admonishingly this time.
“Now don’t you tire him out all over again, you hear? . . . And the two of you be sure to get plenty of sleep tonight. It’ll be a busy day for you both tomorrow.”
“Yes, mama. Good night.” She barely heard her mother’s reply as she left.
Her rooms were mostly dark when she entered, only the light nearest the door still on. Her prediction that Tom had bedded down still dressed, she saw, was wrong: he had obviously made an effort to hang his clothes up neatly, but his exhaustion had betrayed him. Carrie dumped most of the dusty garments into the bathroom hamper, then re-hung the cracked leather aviator’s jacket. She pensively ran a finger over the less faded places where the leather had once proudly borne the brightly colored patches of Tom’s employer.
He’d been a hot courier pilot before a nearly fatal crash and subsequent firing for incompetence, all precipitated by the lies of a jealous fellow pilot. That and the mounting medical costs stemming from being permanently lamed by the accident had forced him into a nomadic existence as a freelance cargo broker.
The young woman shook her head to clear it of the depressing reverie, then slipped out of her simple dress and the slip under it. Her black and white fur glittered in the moonlight filtering through the bedroom curtains as she glided to the bed. She spotted the faint gleam of metal from her companion’s leg-brace, placed conveniently on a chair near the queen-size four-poster.
Tom stirred and mumbled quietly as she slid under the comforter and snuggled up to his back. Her strong, soft hand stroked his long, wavy hair briefly before going around his waist reassuringly. His restlessness subsided, and she smiled as her hand encountered his warm, ready phallus.
Even asleep, he knows where he is and who he’s with, she reflected, her hand sliding up his narrow, black-furred chest to rest near his collarbone. Her fingers felt his fluttering pulse, too fast to be healthy. She shook her head sadly and sighed.
Her intent had been to let him sleep, just as Alyson had suggested. But lying there, with his rough fur tickling her and his male scent heavy in her nosepad, she felt a familiar tingling urge. Well, she rationalized, it always seems to relax him. . . .
Carrie’s muzzle probed through his mane of brown hair, and she nibbled and licked at the neck beneath where it met his shoulder. Her body pressed against his back, and her hand roamed across his torso, stopping occasionally at nipple or erection. He awakened gradually, with soft moans and tensing limbs.
Tom’s head went back as she raised herself on the other elbow, leaning over him to run her tongue to the base of his throat. Finally, she moved her muzzle to his, and they kissed deeply. He melted under her lips and tongue, his arousal growing.
The skunk used her free hand to gently roll her lover onto his back. Then, in a leisurely fashion, she worked her way back down his body, stopping to lavish some attention on his now-hardened nipples. When she reached her destination, she teased around it, chuckling as he arched his back and shivered. Then she puffed a few breaths over the tip before abruptly opening her lips and sliding her mouth over him.
The thin cat choked out a short cry, his fists gripping the sheets. Carrie concentrated on his shaft, working her tongue and lips along it slowly. With her wide, long muzzle, she could take him all the way in, feeling the surface veins pulsing in counterpoint to the heartbeat-induced vibration of the whole.
She stroked him steadily with mouth and fingers, breathing in his scent. Only a few minutes of this was enough to bring him to the breaking point. He mewed and stiffened, his muscles locking, his orgasm fiercely intense—just as the first one always was during his visits.
Carrie tasted him suddenly and smelled their mingled scents. By now, she was more than ready. Letting him slide from her lips slowly, she rested a moment on all fours, giving him a short breather before moving to sit on her haunches next to his head.
She leaned down to kiss him again, sharing his flavor, then whispered, “Please?” He nodded and rolled on his side facing her as she lay back. Tom ran his hands over her for a few moments, delighting in the firm, round breasts and sizable nipples, before moving to return the pleasure she’d given.
His long hands caressed her full hips as his muzzle brushed across her lower body from navel to pubis. He settled into a steady licking and almost-nursing at the front of her neat pink slit, holding her steady as she began to wriggle slightly, unable to stay still under the half-tickling sensations.
It took him much longer, as it normally did, before Carrie began to let out a succession of squeaks, her hips rising and her bushy tail shaking uncontrollably. An ecstatic bubble of intense warmth burst just inside her, flooding through her body. The skunk went limp, her fingers still tangled in Tom’s hair.
The black cat let her rest, stroking her belly as she caught her breath. Both were silent, enjoying the mood of the moment and one another’s presence. After untracked minutes, she spread her arms toward him invitingly. Tom moved on hands and knees up her body, then lay down, letting her clasp him close with arms and legs. She slid one hand down to guide him, gasping with his gentle, gradual entry.
Tom moved slowly, at first interested more in Carrie’s closeness than in the actual sex. She giggled in amused pleasure as he nuzzled and nursed at her breasts. Each felt the other’s warmth as they moved together langorously, she snug around him, he firm inside her. Sensation built until at last the familiar wave of heat shot through him from extremities to tip, and she felt his stream deep within her as he cried out. His breath rasped and he shuddered as he recovered from the wash of adrenalin.
Still inside, he lowered his slim torso onto hers, resting most of his weight on his elbows, and kissed her once more. After a few minutes of companionable silence, they rolled onto their sides. Tom caressed the pretty skunk’s face.
“Tell me about the world,” she asked softly. She always asked, never tiring of his stories of the places he’d been and the things he’d seen. He chuckled and nodded.
She listened, enraptured, as he whispered of his adventures of the last few months, his tone only occasionally hinting at the pain that she knew he felt. Neither of them spoke of it; it was enough that they both knew, and the first night was a time for happiness. More than an hour passed this way, and he wound down, his words softening and becoming confused. Finally, she hushed him and held him close, singing him a quiet lullabye as his grey eyes closed and his head drooped.
They awoke the next morning to a sharp rapping at the door, followed by Alyson’s musical voice. “Wake-up time! You two have a full day ahead of you, so you’d best hurry. Breakfast’ll be ready directly.”
Tom galvanized and gasped loudly, as he always did when awakened too suddenly. Carrie spared a few moments to soothe him before leaping out of bed to begin the day. He followed suit a few moments later, moving more slowly—she was more the morning person than he.
They bathed and dressed hastily, rushing into the dining room about half an hour later. Alyson smiled at them welcomingly as she bustled around the table, serving the handful of breakfasters already present. As Tom sat, Carrie quickly kissed him on the top of his head before moving to assist her mother.
Breakfast was not as lively as the dinners tended to be; conversation was more relaxed. When Alyson finally sat down herself, the talk turned to the day’s plans. Both Tom and Carrie were headed for nearby Moorehead College, he to talk dollars with some of the staff looking to have some supplies shipped in, she to attend some pre-semester faculty meetings.
“How about lunch, Kitten? We could go down to one of the restaurants over there during the day,” Carrie suggested.
Tom nodded. “Sure. Do you have one in mind?”
The older skunk broke in. “There’s a new place, just opened up, called The Front Porch. It’s supposed to be very nice. It’s also easy for you to get to, dear,” she finished, looking at Tom.
He nodded. “Sounds good to me. Carrie?”
She agreed. “I should be free at about two. Let’s meet in front of Blackstone Hall—you know, the sidewalk that goes from there to the street?”
“Well, there he is. Right on time, too,” observed the petite white fox in a surprised tone.
Carrie glanced at her sidelong. “What did you expect, Jennifer? His living depends on being punctual—and he never keeps me waiting if he can help it. He’s very considerate.”
“Uh, sure. Where did you say you were eating? That new place, right? MacDougal’s isn’t very romantic,” Jennifer observed doubtfully.
“Heavens, no! We’re eating at The Front Porch. I don’t see what attraction this ‘fast food’ nonsense has.”
The shorter girl shrugged. “It is fast. And cheap. That makes it real popular with the students.”
They, and the two other women with them, stood in the sunlit quad in front of Blackstone Hall, chatting while the thirtyish skunk had waited for her lunch date. The topic of discussion, naturally enough, was the man she awaited. Her friends’ attitude toward him, Carrie noticed, was dubious, and they had repeatedly asked her why she’d let such a man into her bed, even after she’d told them the story of his first visit. She sighed, realizing that they probably still didn’t understand.
When he finally limped up, grinning, the other girls murmured goodbyes and withdrew quickly. Carrie felt a momentary annoyance with them for “avoiding the cripple” before putting it out of her mind and returning Tom’s smile. He offered the arm in which he held his ubiquitous clipboard, and she took it warmly. They turned to leave, oblivious to the stares they attracted from Carrie’s erstwhile companions.
“I just don’t understand what she sees in a washed-up, broken-down old ex-pilot with a bum leg,” lamented the rabbit, Elisa.
Linda, a taller, leaner skunk than Carrie, shook her head. “She’s got it bad. And she doesn’t even know it.”
The black-furred couple strolled across Moorehead Park, which adjoined the campus, heading for the restaurant they’d selected, located on the far side of Bayview some way down the street. The day was cool, but pleasant.
“Kitten, do you need to rest?” Carrie asked with some concern as she noted Tom’s slightly dragging pace.
“Um, well . . . yeah. But I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I guess I should know better than that, though.”
She chided him. “Tom, you know I’ve told you to be careful with that ankle. If you’re sore, then we’ll sit down for a few minutes.” With that, she pulled him to a tree growing at the top of a small rise. There they sat down and leaned against the tree’s trunk.
After a minute or two, a giant ball bounded toward them, small furry forms pelting after it. Carrie stood and picked up the huge toy, carrying it back to the children. She knelt and talked with a few of the bolder ones while the shyer children took the ball away with them. She smiled, enjoying the birdlike chatter of their piping voices.
Minutes later, she abruptly realized that time was passing, and glanced back at Tom. He still sat where she’d left him, gazing back at her, his expression sadly wistful. The skunk blinked and turned back to the children, excusing herself. She trotted back to the cat, asking, “Feeling better now?”
He nodded and stood, using his walking stick to help himself up. “Let’s go.” A wry grin crossed his face. “If we dally too much longer, we’ll be eating dinner instead of lunch.”
As promised, the new restaurant served excellent food. The two ate in relative silence, both lost in thought. Finally, Carrie asked the question she always dreaded, but had to bring up. “When are you leaving?”
“Hmmm. Well, I’ve got some other business in town which should keep me around for another day or two. . . .”
“So soon?” she interrupted in distress.
“No, now, I thought I’d also take a break and just spend a couple of days with you. How does that sound?”
Her sudden, radiant smile was all the answer he needed.
They spent the evening on the town, watching a play and then a movie, returning to the Prims’ for a late supper and much-needed rest. Everywhere, it seemed to Carrie, they had seen couples and families having a good time. As they sat in bed, Tom caressed her, running his hands lightly over her breasts and down her sides. She smiled and shook her head.
Tom’s disappointment was evident, and she felt a pang of guilt for withholding what he had so little opportunity to enjoy, but she was too preoccupied to be interested. When she lay down, he curled up beside her, respecting her mood despite his own. They both fell asleep quickly, worn out from their busy day.
For once, Carrie’s sleep was more troubled than her bedmate’s. What do you want? a voice whispered in her mind.
I don’t know. . . . she replied to herself uncertainly.
You’re just past thirty, dear. Even Mother was twenty when she had you. You liked talking to those children, didn’t you? Is it children you want?
Maybe I do.
Then how about a man? You’ve certainly had your share, but you’ve never found anyone, have you? Someone always to be there, someone to be there for. And there’s the business, too: you need help, if nothing else. Mama’s strong, and not old yet, but someday. . . .
If I’ve never found one before—where will I find a man like that now?
There’s one lying right next to you, girl.
She woke abruptly, sitting straight up, the last thought echoing in her mind. Tom? She looked down at the thin figure and drawn face. Every time you see him again, he looks more and more tired. How much longer is he going to last in that kind of life? She bit her lip. He’s only here for a few days every three or four months, then he’s off to who knows where, getting into who knows what kind of trouble.
If this keeps up, he could just . . . disappear some day. And you’d never know. He’d just never show up again. A cold wind blew through Carrie’s soul, and she shook her head fiercely. She wouldn’t let that happen.
She reached a hand tentatively to his shoulder, then, with more conviction, shook him firmly. Her mind was made up as he stiffened, his eyes snapping open—his usual reaction to a sudden awakening.
The determined skunk quieted him patiently, stroking his long hair and letting him come fully awake. His first coherent words were, “What’s wrong, Carrie? Why did you . . . ?”
“Hush. Are you awake? Can you answer a question for me?”
“Uh, yeh. I think so. It’s important, isn’t it?” His expression was bewildered, but concerned.
She nodded. “Kitten, have you ever thought about . . . settling down? Living somewhere permanently?”
“Have I? Carrie, sometimes I think of nothing else.”
“Tom . . . would you like to live . . . here?”
He looked poleaxed. “Uhh—well, I don’t know, Carrie. I mean, wouldn’t I get in the way? I don’t want to deadhead—”
“No! That’s not . . . I mean . . . Tom, marry me.”
The thin cat’s voice dropped. “Oh. Well.” His brow furrowed in thought. She held her breath. Finally, he closed his eyes, and his entire face relaxed.
In a tone barely above a whisper, he replied, “Yes, Carrie dearest. I will marry you, and I will live with you all my life.”
The wedding was modest, not because it was sudden or because the Prims did not have the means for more extravagance, but because that was all the couple desired. The guest list was small, but did include Carrie’s father—a huge, bluff bear seaman half again as tall as his wife—and Tom’s estranged parents, as well as Alyson and several of Carrie’s friends.
The reception was equally brief and informal. The elder couple deftly distracted attention away from the newlyweds’ eventual retreat to Carrie’s rooms by turning the affair into a casual dinner party for their guests—who would be staying overnight before returning to their scattered homes in any case.
As Tom doffed his jacket, Carrie grabbed him, turned him around, and pulled his muzzle to hers, kissing him passionately. “Now,” she said throatily when she released him. He looked a bit startled at her unusually fiery desire, but nodded and sat down on the bed to finish removing his tux.
She didn’t let him. Once she’d gotten her skirts off, she knelt on the bed behind him and leaned against his back, running her hands down his chest to his belt. There, she fumbled to open it, letting his hands run over her bared flanks and tail root. “Why?” he whispered curiously, but was answered only by a shake of the head and a lick on the ear.
Her hand moved into the opened fly, seeking his phallus. He shifted, pulling the trousers down and kicking them off as his wife stroked him gently. She pulled away suddenly, nearly overbalancing him. When Tom looked around, Carrie stared back at him over a shoulder, her hips toward him, her body braced on all fours. He let out a silent “Oh” and moved onto the bed behind her.
His fingers explored her first, and he was not surprised to find her very ready. He held her luxuriant tail in one hand, delighting in the long fur, and moved his hips to hers, letting her guide him as she usually did. Her brilliant green eyes closed as he slipped into her easily.
He began to move slowly, but she shook her head again. “Take me. . . .” she breathed, pushing back against him and wriggling just a bit. He obliged, leaning forward and increasing his pace. She reached back with one hand, digging her heavy nails into his hip. He got the message, and shoved at her more insistently.
They rocked together, fast and hard, and Carrie felt his warm shaft from base to tip as he nearly lost her at one extreme and their hips met at the other. Tom’s world had narrowed to the voluptuous body he caressed and the passage within it. Both of them let out small cries between raspy breaths.
Her back shivered and she whimpered as a climax washed through her. Balance lost, her shoulders fell to the mattress, her cheek against the pillow, as Tom continued to move within her firmly. Her ears and tail twitched and she shuddered as the exquisitely heightened sensations inside her seemed nearly painful.
With one last strong thrust, she felt his momentary jerk as he too finished with a low, hoarse cry. Then came the timeless moment when neither moved, both recovering from their deep passion. When it ended, he withdrew, drawing a gasp from her.
There was a brief rustling, then his quiet voice telling her to lie down. When she did, he helped her remove the bodice she had not bothered to take off before. That task finished, he lay down beside her, pulling her close and nuzzling her softly. “Why so forceful, love?”
She looked at the ceiling above them thoughtfully before answering, “I want children. Very much.”
“Oh.”
A look of alarm flitted across her face. “You want them too, don’t you, dearest?”
“Yes, Carrie, I do,” he reassured her. “I understand. Then you’ve removed . . .”
A nod confirmed his guess. They lay in silence for a long while, each lost in thoughts of the future.
Finally Tom murmured, “Do you think we’ll live happily ever after?”
Carrie smiled softly and responded, “No. But I think we’ll live contentedly ever after. And in the long run, that’s more important.” Ω
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