Snuggling up to him blissfully, Vesta let him lead her into the crowd. She of course was a superb dancer; so much so that she made him think himself a much better dancer than he really was. After a few minutes, when he was beginning to relax, he felt an itchy, tickling touch—something almost impalpable was creeping up his naked back—the fine, soft fur of the extreme tip of Vesta’s ubiquitous tail!
He grabbed for it, but, fast as he was, Vesta was faster, and she shrieked with glee as he missed the snatch.
“See here, young lady,” he said, with mock sternness, “if you don’t keep your tail where it belongs I’m going to wrap it around your lovely neck and tie it into a bow-knot.”
Vesta sobered instantly. “Oh . . . do you really think I’m lovely, Captain Nealcloud—my neck, I mean?”
“No doubt about it,” Cloud declared. “Not only your neck—all of you. You are most certainly one of the most beautiful things I ever saw.”
“Oh, thanks . . . I hadn’t. . . .” she stared into his eyes for moments, as if trying to decide whether he really meant it or was merely being polite; then, deciding that he did mean it, she closed her eyes, let her head sink down onto his shoulder, and began to purr blissfully; still matching perfectly whatever motions he chose to make.
In a few minutes, however, they heard a partially-stifled shriek and a soprano voice, struggling with laughter, rang out.
“Vesta!”
“Yes, Babs?”
“What do you do about this tail-tickling business? I never had to cope with anything like that before!”