#Note to reader, two words are emphasized like _this_ they would be italics. There is a footnote, you may leave it out or simply read it or do as you wish.
The fox resists the urge to shake until he gets well into the hall, droplets of water flying from his fur and forming globules on the polished pine floor. He peeps into the carrier for a moment, then turning as he brings the towel up to his snout and begins drying, realizes that as the double front doors are flanked by large glass panels his nudity is on display to anyone walking up the path - "I don't think I mentioned clothes" she had said - and he was suddenly conscious from that moment of feeling terribly exposed and vulnerable, as much as he had felt totally unconcerned about being stripped from the moment she had distracted him with the comment about his under-ware - almost unaware of it except when her fingers had worked the lather under his tail and around his fox parts. His paws move the towel absently though his head fur as he recalls the sensation of her hands - actually Miss's wonderful immaculate hands - touching him - a feral fox - intimately. He looks down as if seeing his cock will confirm that she really touched it - a sign of the reality of the experience he is almost beginning to doubt, and to his horror there _is_ a sign, a small red sign that is becoming larger and more of a sign post than a sign with every passing second.
He whines softly, bringing the towel down to his parts and trying to push his cock down between his legs, as he saw a human once do, but without success, and he is now standing with his paws holding the white fluffy towel against the pulsing shaft, aware that someone is coming to the door soon, and Miss will be changed and coming into the hall and he is still wet, and he can smell the mint but also his own natural musk returning and the scent of Miss coming from her coat on the hooks, and the shoes and the whole house, reminding him of her soft but capable hands, her hazel eyes, the gentle voice that sometimes carries a steely yet amused edge that can make a small fox feel a lot smaller, and he is panting, hearing her move in her room, and he is still not dry, and his cock won't go down and ...
The fox closes his eyes for a moment, aware that they had begun to search for escape routes an breathes deeply to try and calm himself, he must, he thinks, at least dry himself, and perhaps she won't notice his erection. He looks down, scooping a small drop of clear fluid from the tip and licking his finger. "As if.." he mutters to himself - Miss was displeased enough by a protruding tongue, let alone.. he checks the thought, and concentrates on drying, though his natural body heat is already drying the shorter softer tufted white fur on his belly, he works on his limbs gives his head fur and chest fur a vigorous rub after they are nearly dry to bring them to maximum fluffiness and settles down on the floor to work on his tail, which he knows will take a little time.
Just as he is finishing he hears a bike - an old Honda - sputter to a stop in the distance. Maybe this is the delivery - remembering Miss pushing buttons on her phone while he concentrated on balancing the shopping and his bundle and his bag for a few moments, still finding enough attention to watch her nimble fingers, but not really listening to what she said. (1) "The usual" he thinks ... could mean anything. Footsteps start to come nearer and he barks a short alerting bark, then remembering his nudity wraps his towel around his middle, and moves closer to the window , looking out to where the path emerges from the trees, into the clearing surrounding the house. As a figure emerges from the trees, the foxes eyes grow wild with alarm, taking in the peaked cap and the button down shirt, the jacket with epaulets and he growls, diving under the hall table, alternately barking and growling as the figure approaches the door.
Miss, alerted by his noise, is already in the hallway and moving towards the door when the bell rings, her head turning towards him as her hand reaches for the latch "Hush fox." she says puzzled by his reaction, maybe putting the barking and growling down to his territorial instinct, but not the hiding. The fox, however, jumps out, loosing his towel in the process and hurls himself against the door.
"It's .. not the delivery Miss it's police!" his eyes are wide with fear, ears back, lips pulled back over his white sharp teeth as he turns to face the door, he seems as ready to fight to protect her, as he was to run or hide.
Miss looks down, concern on her face, reassurance in her voice, "Look again, fierce fox! " she says, with that hint of amusement coming though the concern, that could so easily be wounding if it was just a tone different - focused at the mistake, not the one who made it - and he sticks his head to the side of the door, looking through the glass panel, seeing that while the visitor is dressed in a uniform, it is not the dark blue he has come to fear, but a warm brown, and carries an embroidered logo he recognizes.
"Pizza! he shouts, relieved and pleased in the same instant, then, slightly embarassed at his outburst "Sorry MIss.... " though he's not really sure if he's apologizing for shouting or for his mistake, as he moves back and she opens the door.
"Thank you Bob", she says, taking the box the from the delivery boy.
"You're welcome Ma'am." he says touching his cap per company policy, and looking down "You got a fox? Nice!"
"Well 'nice' remains to be seen, Bob, but I have got a fox - down there somewhere. " she says, eyes twinkling as she feels him edging slightly behind her, still not at ease with the uniformed male, and, seeing Bob's gaze - his paws move in front of his foxhood, trying to look as if they just happened to be there, but certain Bob was looking at that area. "Here you go Bob." she slips him a tip almost invisibly, moving back and passing the box to the fox, dismissing the delivery boy with her movement and closing the door as he turns. "Put that on the table and I'll show you where we keep the tableware - you might as well start to make yourself useful. You _do_ like pizza?" she asks.
"Oh yes MIss!" the fox replies enthusiastically.
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(1) A common habit among foxes.
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