He knocked on the door with excitement.  It was room 6 b, but the "b" was missing a nail on the top of the letter, and it had fallen to look like a 9.  He took it as a good omen, although she still hadn't answered the door.  Had he arrived at the right time?  It was ten to midnight, just a few minutes short of the hour of assignation.   His costume was very warm and he couldn't wait to get it off and on to the night of steamy sex she had promised.  

Both were staying at the Moonshine Inn, a little motor inn not far from the convention center outside of Louisville where they had met a few hours before.  He was dressed as a cat, spiked leather collar and a leather Hell's Angels vest, biking goggles and a leather Red Baron cap with cutouts for the ears.  Tink von Hellsing, his stage name at these events.  He rode up on his hog in full glory, usually after most had arrived, to maximize the effect of his arrival.  A giant orange and white furry cat, one of many of the furries that congregated regularly to consort with likeminded "friends".  There were one or two other toms, but he was the only one with a more developed persona.  He was as reknowned for his sexy jokes as he was for his pull with the lady furries.  He got it on with all the species.  

She was dressed as something like a circus performer, not a furry.  The Halloween party was a mixed venture of several of the roleplay groups.  Most of them already knew each other well, too well... and they decided to liven the evening by inviting the Society for Creative Anachronisms and an S&M meetup.  The invitations had been met with a resounding "Hell yeah!" and the party was a smash success, maybe 200 guests. He didn't recognize her at all, which was great.  He had more than once been burned by making a new conquest only to find a spurned lover wearing another outfit.  Lydia was a fresh new face, or body, in this case.  And she showed it off fantastically.  

The costume was unusual, it seemed almost as if it was crafted from felted hair and feathers of black and grey, with iridesence of blue.  He had never seen material like that before,  and he couldn't get a feel of it through his costume's paws.  It gave her the look of both animal and tamer, with style elements taken from the classic Rockettes to PT Barnum.  She wore a tall top hat, also covered with the same fabric, and a pink patent leather kitty collar studded with large rhinestones.  A nameplate hung from it, silver, heart shaped medallion, that read "Lydia" and her phone number underneath.  She carried a long riding crop that had a string attached to the end, dangling the colored feathers, ribbons and bells of the cat toy section.  From her tail end sprung a bouncing  sprig of catnip, waving back and forth when she walked by.  Her knee high boots matched the rest of the dress, and split into four cat toes.  They had a stiletto heel.  Trimming the top of the bodice, the hem of the little majorette skirt, and the tops of the boots was a edge of soft white fur.  He figured it was probably rabbit, since ermine was so rare these days.  It looked like the white of Santa's hat or the Queen's crown.  

Naturally, he knew she would leave with him, so he decided to hold back and watch her work the room.  He'd catch her gaze on him, and he could tell she was acting out for his attention.  It was as if she had been made for him.  He imagined them as the super couple of future parties, maybe even some of the national events.   Her face was mostly covered with a sequined mask and whiskers, but what he could see was a beautiful woman who walked with lithe and almost preternatural movements.  He watched as she tickled and teased the other toms and bulls and sires of the clan.  Her feather stick waved, her catnip tail wiggled with delight as they sniffed and yipped and performed animal tricks.  In a little side purse, she pulled out Animal Crackers and fed them for their antics.  He held off from approaching her, until the initial excitement of the new crowd shifted to drunken debauchery.  

He didn't drink, but he didn't let on that he stayed sober at these events.  He had a reputation to protect, including the many excuses of alcoholic amnesia he had to pull off.  He also didn't need another DUI, or worse, an accident.  He was in the prime of his life right now, the top of his game.  He hoped to be seen riding off with her on his bike.  Maybe someone would take pictures that he could make the Facebook group page.  Tink's wife Pam didn't know of his double life with the Furries.  She worked night shift as a nurse, and they only had rare days off together which he held sacred.  He worshipped her, she was the one and only love of his life.  The Furry girls...  that was just part of the game.  She knew he was part of a biking group.  He spent so many hours on the computer blogging, photoshopping and designing webpages for clubs and groups that she never took a closer work at his "work".  And they had an understanding.  Some might call it an open marriage, he just called it discreet.  He kept his costumes in a locker at a self storage he owned.  He didn't think she'd understand. 

He knocked at the door again and it opened, Lydia peering around the edge of the door.  He had offered her a ride back to the motel, but she had insisted on meeting him here, needed a little time to freshen up.  

"Somebody's getting a lot of pussy tonight!"  he announced as he stepped in the door, thrilled he could use this line again.  Lydia hadn't taken off any part of her outfit and stood facing him by the bed.  

"I couldn't keep my eyes off you all night," she said, running her hands through his chest fur.  "You are magnificent."  She reached up and played with the ears, and then put one of her manicured fingertips into his mouth.  Behind the cat mask, his tongue leaped out to lick it, and she pulled away quickly.  "I want you to fuck me with your catsuit on," she said, reaching down and grabbing his crotch.  Tink was a little disappointed, because it was really getting warm in here and the suit was heavy.  He wanted to push his face into her breasts, to run his hands along her gams.  But he aimed to please, and perhaps would get his turn as he wished when he was done.  He unzipped his crotch flap, and then unsnapped the band of his ball buster briefs.  He had learned from past errors in judgment that the underwear needed to be completely removable through the costume, not just pushed aside.  This wasn't the first time he had had this request.  It just meant another trip to the drycleaners, and he would had to drive to Owensboro to do that.  

Lydia pushed him to sit on the bed, and pushed his knees apart, as she knelt in between his legs and went down on him.  She wore bright pink lipgloss that matched her collar, and he loved the feeling of its smooth and sticky coating on his hard dick.  She was very good, using her hands and tongue in a well matched rhythm that pushed and pushed him to the edge, and them pulled him back just before he climaxed.  He had caught a glimpse of little feline fangs in her smile, but she managed to avoid any bad tooth contact.  Her tongue felt raspy against his skin, and he wondered how she did that.  He kept up on the newest innovations in sex toys and mood enhancers, and he hadn't run across this before.  Tink lay back and let go, while Lydia worked her magic.  He tried to pull her onto him, but she resisted, instead straddling him.  He reached his hands up between her legs, but she pushed them away.  She held his cock in her hands and worked the shaft a little. 

"Let's wrap this big boy and get it on!" She pulled a condom out of her little side purse, and had it on him in a flash.  Then she reached under her skirt, unsnapped the leotard, and mounted him.  He couldn't believe it, it was incredible.  Different, he usually liked a good view of the goods, but the sex was amazing.  She grabbed and pulled his fur, worked his costume and hers, it was like a sex show at the Magic Kingdom.  Disney Does Dallas... no, he'd have to work on a better one than that.   She started to moan as her rhythms sped up, and he could feel her squeeze him with the ins and outs of her breath.  It was almost like panting, and she let out some yelps that sounded a bit like a cat in heat.  He couldn't believe he hadn't seen her before, she was definitely a pro.  He'd have to start searching the national sites for her, see where she'd come in from.  

Lydia stopped again, just short of both climaxes, and climbed off of Tink with a deep purr.   "Okay, it's your turn, big boy." She crawled across the bed on her knees, and grasped the headboard, sticking her ass out towards him.  The catnip spring wiggled and the skirt barely covered her ass.  He was wild with desire, so close to the edge, but not ready to finish.  The costume was getting to be a drag, so he started to unzip it and climb out.  He was only wearing a thin white tank top, his briefs already removed, and he pulled his arms and legs out.  He couldn't wait to get his hands on her breasts, and touch her skin.  As he reached for her, she turned around and saw him coming towards her without the costume on and she shrieked. 

"What did you do?" she cried out.  He had taken the cat head off, and placed it on the bed beside him, kicking the skin away.  He was on his knees in full naked glory, his belly hanging before him and his hairy chest and bald head revealed.  He had a shiny pate, with a thin brown ponytail, and the obscenely white skin of a man who spent his time at a computer all day.  "Why did you take the catsuit off?"  She pulled herself back, and scrambled off the bed, heading for the bathroom.  Her stiletto caught on the fur of his discarded costume and she faceplanted into the carpet of the motel room.  Tink leapt off the bed to help her up, but she hissed and growled, striking out her hand like a cat's paw.  He pulled back startled.  As she got to her feet, he could hear a ripping sound.  The zipper on the back of her costume had gotten embedded in the fur of his catsuit, and instead of pulling the suit with her, the weight of it ripped the fabric.  A look of horror came across her face, and she tried helplessly to keep the edges of her costume together.  

But to no avail.  It had been sewn together as a onepiece, and the tear had sheared across the seams of the waist.  Gravity did the rest, pulling down the lower half of her majorette outfit, exposing her lower body completely.  Tink stared in horror, as her legs were revealed.  The thick black and white fur of a tuxedo cat showed before him, a long twitching tail unfurled and fell behind her.  She mewed in dismay, and then pulled the rest of the bodysuit off.  She peeled of the skin of her arms and head, finally removing the facemask.  Standing before him again, she was completely feline, head to toe.  Her face was a checkerboard of black and white squares, her chest the soft white fur he had seen on her costume, her back a jacket of black that ended in a long black tail, tipped in white.  Lydia lifted a pink padded paw toward him, and he backed away with a screech.  

"You're a cat?  What the fuck?  I just fucked a cat?  Oh my god, what the fuck, what the fuck?"  He grabbed his temples with his fingers, and scanned the room for his things.  He had only brought up his costume and his keys. He grabbed what he could, finding the keys in the pocket of his vest, and ran out of the room completely naked.  He'd bother putting clothes on when he was far, far away. 

Lydia closed the door a few minutes after Tink left, and went to over to the mirror and sink at the side of the room.  She reached up behind her neck, and started to unzip, but it was harder with her catpaws on.  Soon she had worked her hands free, and then could easily undo the rest of the cat costume she had so carefully sewn to her body.  It fit like a skin.  With her arms free, she pulled off the cat head, and shook loose her long hair.  In the mirror's reflection, Pam smiled at herself for a job well done.  "That'll teach him."  Then she saw the goggles of his cat helmet lying on the floor by the bed.  She'd gotten a trophy of sorts for her conquest tonight.  She'd have to make sure to leave it at his doorstep.  A gift from any good cat to her owner.  

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(NB:  This post was written with the permission and informed consent of those named.  Creative license has been taken with reality).