Fu**ing Like Bunnies

Clayton Webb once again found himself attending a society gala thrown by a friend of his mother’s. This particular party, thrown every year by the Bakers, was especially distasteful to Clay. Their annual Passover/Easter/Equinox/St. Patrick’s Day bash – the Bakers were equal opportunity party throwers – indulged in an odd and unsettling mix of holiday decorations, themed food, and music. Clay firmly believed that matzo ball soup and gefilte fish just didn’t go with green beer and corned beef and cabbage.

Adding to his displeasure this evening was that for once the National Weather Service had forecast correctly: torrential rain. Clay turned the windshield wipers on high as he sped down the windy road leading to the Baker estate. Pulling up into the circular drive of the expansive home, Clay was forced to stop in a line of cars waiting for the valet to take care their vehicles for the evening. He at last reached the head of the line and left the engine running as the valet handed him his ticket stub through the small opening he’d cracked in the window.

Clay hated the rain. He was loath to get his hair wet. It always became so unruly after being exposed to the moisture; and he was not looking forward to spending the rest of the evening making small talk in a sopping wet or even damp suit.

As if on cue, just as the valet opened the car door for him to depart, Clay looked up to find an umbrella being placed over his head. Tracing his eyes down the shaft of the umbrella, he was perplexed to see a furry white paw holding the handle.

“Paw” wasn’t exactly an accurate description. Oh it was a paw all right, just not a real one. As Clay continued to move his gaze past the paw and up the white furry arm, he discovered that the individual holding said umbrella was actually a person in a bunny costume.

Clay rolled his eyes and mentally intoned ‘oh brother’ at the sight. But he had to acquiesce, a rabbit escorting you from your car in the rain sure beat getting drenched.

Sarah MacKenzie had groaned out loud when Harriet revealed just exactly what her last-minute “small favor” entailed. It was for a friend of a friend and she promised Sarah that she’d make it up to her some how.

In spite of the seemingly humiliating circumstances, Sarah had found herself having a surprisingly fun time. Completely disguised in her bunny costume – consisting of a furry white but bulky body suit, big rabbit feet and hands, and a giant rabbit head, complete with ears that could be adjusted at any angle – she felt a certain freedom in the anonymity.

Sheltered from the rain by the costume and a monstrous umbrella, Sarah was warm and dry. And she’d discovered that even without talking, which she was strictly forbidden to do, she could interact quite well with her charges as they walked from the driveway to the door.

She flirted and played the coquette with the men, and put on a masculine show of “protector” for the women. Both sexes lapped up the attention; with everyone assuming the white rabbit was whichever gender they were most inclined to be attracted to.

When Sarah spotted Clayton Webb’s little red sports car pull into the valet line, Sarah was glad to have time to ponder a course of action to best take advantage of her disguised identity.

While escorting the two elderly couples, three Congressmen, and one single socialite ahead of Clay, she contemplated the spy’s appearance at the party. Ever since he’d faked his own death years back, Sarah had held conflicting feelings about Clay. Up until that time she’d never quite been able trust him to be honest about the operations he’d involved her in, but after his “death” she found within herself a surprising respect and fondness for the man. So she decided on a plan of blatant sexual overtures to see if she could rattle the unflappable and often arrogant agent, Sarah smiled to herself inside the giant bunny head. She was going to get him where men were the most vulnerable: in the libido.

Watching Clay’s eyes focus on her furry hand and travel up her arm to her bunny head nearly sent her into fits of giggles. Sarah did her best to wait for his final assessment of his rabbit escort. With a brief roll of his eyes Sarah saw him accept the situation for what it was, a dryer way to get from here to there, no matter how ludicrous.

Clay’s initial surprise at seeing the bunny was quickly replaced by a strange feeling that he’d encountered the creature before. She was familiar to him and while he scolded himself for making the automatic assumption that the rabbit was a woman, he some how knew his gut instinct was correct. This was someone he’d met before.

So he did what every gentleman is supposed to do in the company of a familiar woman, he offered his arm to her. Sarah looked at Clay, tilted her bunny-disguised head in a coy gesture and took his arm. He responded with a nod of the head and a brief, “Ma’am.”

‘Hmmm, he already assumes I’m a female rabbit.’ That made Sarah’s task a bit easier, he was giving her a head start.

Clay even went so far as to hold the umbrella for them as they made their way up the brick-lined walk. As he took the umbrella from her, Sarah pretended a shy bunny giggle by placing a paw over her mouth, angling her head, and shaking her shoulders.

Clay smiled in reply. He was warming up to the rabbit and liked the way she was so appreciative of his etiquette. Most women either took it for granted or were offended. But he soon was mentally reprimanding himself for being so flattered by the attentions of a person in an animal costume, and one who was no doubt being paid to flirt with y guy guest.

When they reached the door at last, Sarah took the umbrella back from Clay and blew him a kiss from her free paw. Clay smiled in spite of himself and Sarah waved goodbye, before kicking up a heel in a girl-ish way as she turned back to her duties.

Clay watched, impressed with the ability of whoever was inside the outfit to so completely and convincingly become the charming and flirty character. As he watched her retreat down the path, the well-trained spy thought he recognized the brisk walk and economy of step in her gait.

‘Military, that’s for sure,’ he assessed.

With a shiver, Clay prayed that it wasn’t that cold and kniving Lt. Singer he’d been happy to share the umbrella with. He let himself imagine someone more like the sexy Sarah MacKenzie. ‘A much better image to begin the eve wit with,’ he mused.

Sarah continued her task of keeping guests dry and happy as they arrived, and Clay began mingling and greeting his Mother’s friends, making apologies for her absence, as she was in Staad for the month.

When the final guest had made his way into the home, bunny by his side, Sarah took a break. She found a guest bathroom off the main foyer and locked the door behind her. Lifting the rabbit head from her shoulders, Sarah shook her hair out and managed to wriggle out of enough of the outfit to relieve herself. Donning the costume again, she gave herself a last look in thrrorrror and cocked her right ear into what she hoped was an adorable angle.

Clay had about all he could stand of Senator Campbell’s rantings over the Homeland Security budget – as if Clay could do anything about it – and prayed for some means of escape as he listened to the old windbag launch into another diatribe.

He found no convenient way to un-entangle himself from the conversation, but did notice the white rabbit waving at him from the doorway across the room. She held her paw up, leaned her head against the frame of the door, and waved slowly – ‘longingly,’ he though – at him. And darn it, he liked it.

“Clay, are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Senator Campbell grouched.

“Of course Senator. You think we should be able to track terrorists - foreign and domestic, keep tabs on all other radical political and militia groups in the world, and ensure global political stability all within a budget of half the size of the highway bill you’re hoping to pass for the fat cats in the tri-state area.”

“Hrumph,” was all replreply the Senator gave.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Clay stated in his most genteel voice as he took his leave of the disgruntled legislator.

Hoping to chase the rabbit down and find out if she was indeed flirting with him, and precisely who she was in the first place, Clay ran right into Mary Ann Baker, his hosts’ daughter who seemed forever to be trying to impress him. This evening was no different. She subjected Clay to a long-winded and nasal-toned narrative of hetesttest trip to Paris. Clay couldn’t have cared less.

When Sarah had emerged from the bathroom, she immediately spotted Clay and an older man she assumed was a politician. Watching the way Clay stood listening to the gentleman, she could tell he was only half paying attention. Sarah knew that Clay was probably also thinking about some operation he was in the middle of planning or de-briefing, and was likely taking note of every person in the room and what they were doing. But she also knew that she was the only guest he wouldn’t be able to place the identity of.

Watching him stand in the company of this society gala, Sarah admired Clay’s versatility and she remembered how well he’d handled himself in Afghanistan. As the minutes ticked by, she found herself unexplainably focused on his right hand, which held a sturdy tumbler of what she assumed was scotch. She was transfixed with the way his fingers held the glass as he manipulated it in circles in his grip. The way he was handling the object took a delicate touch of balance and dexterity. Sarah smiled as she thought of a few better uses for those agile hands.

When Clay looked over the shoulder of his Senatorial companion, Sarah grabbed his attention with her wave and head tilt, ensuring his continued interest.

‘Come get me,’ she projected across the room, and Sarah wad hid him try just that.

When she saw Clay get caught in another presumably inane conversation she thought, ‘Oh well, all the more fun to milk this for a while.’ And she simply skirted the room, bestowing friendly gestures on all she came into contact with, but keeping an eye on Clay all the while.

Clay blushed slightly as the rabbit blew him a kiss from a spot near the fireplace; that’s when he was hooked for sure. He *had* to find out who she was and exactly what she wanted with him. Because frankly, Clay was starting to imaging doing the most naughty things with that bunny.

Through Mary Ann’s detailed descriptions of the latest renovations to the Louvre, Clay kept his attention on the rabbit as she hopped from one place to the next, beckoning three separate times for him to follow her: once while standing next to the bartender; once from the side of the grand piano where she suggestively stroked the smooth polished curve of the lid with her paw; and once final time from the doorway to the service entrance next to the kitchen. That was all he could take.

“’Scuse me,” was the only thing Mary Ann heard as a blur of Clayton Webb left her broken hearted again. ‘Will that man ever take notice of me?’ she pouted.

Sarah was getting quite a charge out of the power she was wielding over Clay. She’d never had the chance to see him in a social situation and she was soaking up the opportunity to observe his demeanor. She was beginning to love the complexity of this man. His professional dedication impressed her and hisial ial graces appealed to her romantic side. And damn, he was sexy.

She knew her last summoning call would be thel-mal-maker. Sarah was getting really good at exuding blatant sexuality through the heavy bunny costume. And as Clay passed through the service passageway and into the quarters formerly used for the “help,” he felt a sharp on on his suit sleeve and was jerked into one of the bedrooms.

“Hey!”

Before Clay could form another sentence, he found himself face to face with the rabbit of his dreams - at least the day dreams he’d been having for the past hour or so. Sarah had spun him around, slammed the door behind them, and had his back up against it in no time. She held him to the closed door with her bunny paws on his shoulders as she cocked her head and waited for his reaction.

A stunned Clay Webb finally spoke. “Definitely military.”

Sarah dropped her hands, stood at attention, and delivered a crisp salute to confirm his statement.

“Female, I hope.”

In reply, she ran the back of one paw down his cheek and nodded “yes.”

“I feel like I know you.”

This time, Sarah let her paw drop from Clay’s cheek to his chest, caressed the length of his suit lapel with her palm of her paw, and nodded again in the affirmative.

Stepping back from him now, she placed her paws on her hips, which were cocked to one side, and waited for him to figure out who she was.

“I’m praying you’re Sarah MacKenzie. But if you turn out to be Harriet Sims, I’m going to owe Bud one hell of a good bottle of scotch for the thoughts I’ve been having about getting into that idiotic rabbit costume of yours.”

Sarah couldn’t help herself, she let out a laugh. She loved Clay’s dry humor and was feeling giddy with the excitement of turning him on with her antics.

Clay in turn cherished the sound of her laugh, and had been saddened in the past that he wasn’t privileged to hear it very often, and never on account of something he’d said to delight her.

“I love the way you laugh Sarah. Now take that damn bunny head off and let me see you.”

Sarah complied, was pleased that he was able to din hen her identity, and was happy that he’d wanted the flirtatious rabbit to be her. Grabbing the rabbit head from her hands the second she removed it, Clay placed it on the chest of drawers next to him. Divesting herself of the bunny paws Sarah tossed her hair and ran a hand through her locks, relieved to have the heavy rabbit head off. And there they stood, staring at each other.

Clay finally broke the silence, “What’ve you got on underneath that thing, Sarah?” He stepped forward and hooked his index finger into the collar of the costume.

“You’re supposed to be the super-spy. You tell me.” Sarah spoke for the first time that night, her mood immediately shifting from playful to sultry.

“I might have to do some investigative work to find out. Are you prepared for that?”

“I’m counting on it.”

His finger still crooked in the neck of her outfit, Clay pulled Sarah close and struggled to peer down the front of the bunny suit.

“You want to lock that door first, Mr. Webb?” Sarah motioned to the door, distracting Cfromfrom his pursuit of her undergarments.

“If you put that bunny head back on, no one will know who you are if we’re interrupted,” he teased as he turned to secure the lock on the door.

“But I have a feeling I’d be missing out on something good.” Sarah once again pinned Clay to the door, this time with the force of her body rather than her hands, and she let her lips fall to his in an exploratory kiss, illustrating just what she didn’t want to miss.

Finding himself pushed against the door by the delightful weight of Sarah MacKenzie’s body, Clay surrendered to her and opened his mouth to her tongue, which rolled around his own teasing, testing, and tasting.

Small moans of pleasure broke the silence of their kisses. Clay’s hands quickly found the zipper at the back of Sarah’s costume and he practically ripped it down in anxious haste to touch her bare skin.

Sarah felt his warm smooth hands on her back and broke their kiss to throw her head back in delight as he caressed her.

“You do realize that you don’t actually have anything on under this bunny suit, don’t you?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Sarah hummed, confirming his suspicions as she continued to stand with her body pressed into his, with her head lolled back, eyes closed, simply enjoying his attentions.

“You have *anything* on under this thing?”ay’say’s hands wandered lower and lower under the white material.

“Nope.”

“Oooh,” was all he could manage as his fingers finally reached the top of the curve of her ass, which he could now clearly feel, was completely bare.

Turning her around in his arms, Clay tugged the top half of the suit down from Sarah’s torso. She pulled her arms out from the constraints of the costume and reached one hand up to run her fingers through Clay’s hair as he bent his head to place nips and kisses on her neck.

Clay wasy muy multi-tasking, as his hands discovered the sensual curves of her breasts, waist, and hips, only to return to her breasts, massaging one, while tugging at the nipple of the other. Sarah was content for the moment to be under his control, since she’d been the one doing the manipulating so far this evening.

“You go ‘commando’ often Colonel?” Clay murmured into her neck as his hand found her curls and wandered farther south to dip into her hot wet center.

“Not when I’m in uniform, but as often as I can. You ought to try it sometime.” Sarah admitted as she ground herself harder against his touches at her sex.

“You’re definitely inspiring me,” he groaned as he pushed his erection against her backside.

“Let’s see if we can’t take care of some of those clothes right now,” Sarah stated matter-of-factly as she turned around to face the spy, whose skin was now flushed with the heat of his rising passion.

Sarah unbuttoned his gray suit jacket, slid it down his shoulders, and took a moment to hang it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. His raging erection aside, Clay was quite happy to be undressed by Sarah MacKenzie in this leisurely manner. It was a private fantasy of his come true. ‘There’s nothing like a sexy woman undressing you,’ he thought as he watched, nearly dumbfounded at his luck.

“No vest tonight…going casual?” Sarah teased as she slid his maroon striped tie from the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton his white dress shirt.

“Only when I’m planning on doing nasty things with a sexy woman in a rabbit suit.” Clay grinned devilishly at Sarah.

No longer satisfied with the slow pace of their odd but fortuitous coupling, as soon as Sarah had Clay’s shirt un-tucked from his trousers, he took over and finished the job himself. Making quick work of his shirt, undershirt, belt, pants, shoes and socks, Clay went back to work oddindding Sarah of that infernal bunny costume.

Shoving her to the bed, he tugged at the feet of the costume and toppled backwards when the first one came loose at last. Sarah laughed and Clay had to smile at the absurd situation.

“Please tell me Rabb and Chegwidden aren’t hiding in the closet ready to come out shouting, ‘smile you’re on Candid Camera!’”

“God I hope not. Now get back up here and let’s fuck like bunnies, Clay.” Sarah demanded as she shed the final pi of of her costume.

“My pleasure.” He smirked and hopped up to the bed to lay his body over Sarah’s, which was at last completely rabbit-free.

The feeling of skin against skin renewed their passion and as they kissed and caressed, nibbled and sucked, Sarah and Clay felt their bodies merging towards the dual purposes of pleasure and release. They reveled in the body-awakening touches each was bestowing upon the other, and amid cries of “God Sarah” and “Oh Clay” their union was consummated.

For the next several hours, until they could successfully sneak out of the house without discovery by their hosts or the other guests, Sarah and Clay did indeed fuck like bunnies.

END