*creeREAAK*

>The rickety door swings open. In pops wifwolf, with a passive smile spread across her muzzle. Behind her stands a wall of paper grocery bags, held up precariously by an overconfident Anon. 

>Wifwolf steps out of the way, while her wheezing Anon rushes in, headed straight for the kitchen. His muscles are shaking, about to give out as he dumps 100 pounds of groceries onto the granite countertop.

>"We're here! Do you like it?" the woman squeaks.

>"Gah... hah... it's pretty nice." Replied Anon, still gasping for air. "But don't your parents live here?"

>"Those old snowbirds? They're still down in Georgia." she explained. "Won't be back till June, so I figured we can spend some time *quality time* at the Summerhouse."

>"What!?" Anon was dumbfounded. "I thought you were kidding! You expected me to believe in wolves that prefer hot weather?" 

>"Oh, they're crazy." She opened one of the paper bags and pulled out a package of frozen chicken breasts. "Don't even know what they want half the time. Of course, don't tell them we were here of they'll freak." 

>"Ooh, we're eating like kings tonight, Sandra! This beats the hell out of Tendie Tuesday!" Anon belted, staring ravenously at what the wolf was opening.

>"You bet. I'll get started on cooking, you go put the rest of the food away." Cassandra pointed towards the fridge and pantry with her free hand.

>"You've got it!" The thought of home-cooked chicken was all the encouragement he needed. 

>Within 5 minutes, he was unloading the last of the groceries, some canned vegetables, into a cabinet adjacent to the fridge. 

>"Thank you, honey." Sandra chimed from over by the stove. By now she was already in her element. A pile of bread crumbs sat on a large plate, the milk and eggs were well mixed in a porcelain bowl and , a healthy dose of olive oil coated the teflon pan in front of her. 

>"No, thank you, babe. You're about to make me a very happy man with this one."

>Cassandra only smiled at the compliment. God damn, she looked irresistible when she was focused on cooking. Even something as casual as her Jeans and penny tee served to fit her bulky form. And boy, did it fit perfectly.

>Male fantasies aside, Anon was starting to sweat. "I'm gonna hang up my jacket and take a look around." he articulated. 

>Cassandra nodded, rolling a dripping cutlet around in the breading pile. "Okay sweetie. Just don't go into my parents' bedroom." 

>The living room and kitchen were essentially one room, only separated by waist-level countertop. Anon could still see Sandra as he perched his coat on a hanger behind the front door. 

>While he was there, Anon took the liberty of turning on the lamp that sat on a nearby table. 

>The living room lit up. It was something homely, yet as clean as if it had been left untouched for a decade. 

>A few nail heads peeked from the hardwood floor. The coffee tables were wooden, and a beautiful crimson sofa sat facing the hearth. 

>As Anon's eyes explored the depth of the room, he was fascinated by what he saw along the wall opposite the house's entrance. 

>"Your folks have a piano in here?" Anon stood mouth agape, like a kid in a candy shop. 

>"Huh?" Sandra called over the sizzling olive oil. "Oh yeah, my pops always liked to play it for momma. It didn't matter what kinda mood she was in, he would just play a few bars and she'd st-"

>"What was that last part?" Asked Anon. "I couldn't hear you over the food."

>"I forgot what I was going to say. But maybe you shouldn't play that thing..." she trailed off. "It's old and I don't want anything to break." 

>"Oh relax, nothing's gonna break." Anon rolled his eyes and sat down on the bench in front of the instrument. "what's wrong with a little atmosphere?" 

>"I just-" 

*DINnnnnng*

>Middle C sounded from over in the living room, albeit a little out of tune. 

>"Fine, whatever."

*Dng* *Dnnng* *Dng*

>Some more stray notes came from under Anon's fingers.

>"Maan, I haven't played one of these in forever!" He reminisced. "I wonder if I still remember any tunes..." 

>Anon lined up the fingers in his left hand and played a few octaves. He kept it basic, creating a progression in A major that sounded like it belonged to an obscure pop song. It was only 4 bars, but that's all Anon needed to start cooking.

>Pretty soon his right hand had a nice little accompaniment going, some suspended eighth note pattern within an octave. 

>all of the ingredients were in place. Time to improvise the lyrics.

>Anon waited for the loop to reset, and began slowly. 

*Dnnng* 

>D major resonated out throughout the space.

>From the kitchen, a chicken cutlet slapped the pan and gave a loud sizzle on impact. 

>"She's cookin up some chicken..." he sang raspily. 

>Anon cleared his throat and tickled the next chord. 

>"Something real divine..." he continued, more confident this time. 

>Unbeknownst to him, Sandra's ears were going crazy, two satellites that had picked up an alien signal. 

>Back on the piano, Anon made the next two lines flow like water.

>"I don't know what she's thinking..."

>"I only know she's mine." 

>Satisfied, Anon played the next loop without vocals. 

*Dnnnngdnggdngggg*

*ooooooooo*

>"Wow," thought Anon. "Maybe I did break something, the D major sounded way better the first time."

*Dnnnnn-*

>Anon muted the piano, scratching his head.

>*oooooooooo*

>"OKAY, what the hell was that!? My fingers weren't even on the keys that time." He whispered to himself, hoping that Cassandra didn't hear the obvious problem with the piano.

>"Let me just see what key is giving me trouble." Anon told himself.

*Dnnnng* *Dnnng* *Dnnng* 

>*oooooooooooooooo*

>Anon panicked. Maybe he could pretend that the piano was haunted... 

>"nah, she doesn't believe in any of that crap." He reasoned 

>Anon swiveled around, hoping that Sandra wouldn't be giving him a death stare. 

>As he raised his eyes to meet his fate, all he saw above the stove was a muzzle pointed directly at the sky. 

>"*awoooooould you stop that?" Sandra covered her mouth with one hand, blushing so hard that it could be seen through the fur on her cheeks.

>Anon's eyebrows shot through the roof, while his jaw touched the floor. 

>"OH MY GOD, were you just howling there?" Anon had the cheekiest smile.

>"Quit it, I'm cooking!" Sandra returned her eyes to the stove. 

>Anon was NOT letting this moment go. Not a chance in hell. "That's incredible! You've never howled in front of me before!"

>"...Maybe it would happen more often if you were better at foreplay." She snapped. 

>Anon scowled right back. "Now you're putting my manhood on the line? You're really asking for it, aren't ya?" 

>He wasted no time getting his fingers on the ivory.

*DNNNNNNNNG*

>"She's cookin' up some chicken!" He belted. "Somethin' real divine!"

>"AwooOooOoo" Like a background singer, she instinctively joined the fray of pitches 

>"I don't know what she's thinking, I only know she's mine, HAHA!"

>Anon paused to see the wolf's reaction.

>"AroooOOOOOOOOOOOOooooo" the sound came straight from her diaphragm, and lasted 15 seconds before dying down. 

>Anon was ecstatic. "You're adorable. Let me do this more often, and I'll give you all the foreplay you want!" He shouted into the kitchen.

>"Keep doing this, and you won't be gettin' nothin' to play with tonight!" She sneered.

>Anon went on to play a few more choruses before realizing that the chicken was probably burning. 

>20 minutes later, he downed 6 cutlets like a champ, while Sandra gave him a glare that could pierce steel. 

>Needless to say, he did not get to practice his foreplay that night. 

The end