Fucked by a Faun
By Alastair Anders
Author’s notes: I do not own Miss Kitty’s or Fred 62 or any other place mentioned in this story, or any trademark thereof (unfortunately). Say hi to the cute bartenders for me.
Copyright 2012 Alastair Anders
Smashwords Edition
Nobody really knew when the faun had started appearing at Miss Kitty’s. But every Friday night he’d show up on the dance floor, shaking his horns and stomping his hooves to the beat. In true Kitty’s form, he’d end up in the center of a group dance-floor grope-fest, making out with a guy and a girl at the same time. And sometimes after the party ended, he’d accompany a group of people to Fred 62 in Los Feliz for drunk pancakes. At the end of the night, after turning down every offer to hang out again sometime, he’d always sproing away into the bushes.
At first most people thought he was a regular guy with a really awesome Halloween costume, the kind you can sometimes borrow from friends who work in the movie industry. But then one night, a drunk alterna-girl porn star in a corset and tutu cried “Omigod, I love your horns! Did you make them yourself? Can I touch them?” and then recoiled, squealing “Omigod, THEY’RE REAL!”
After that, the faun became a fixture at Kitty’s, and Kitty herself even invited him up onstage for birthday spankings one night. “You’re HOW OLD?” she insisted, after he attempted to stomp out a number with his hoof. “No, brother. You’re twenty-nine.”