Her apartments were at the end of the hallway. She inserted her right thumb into the small recess at the left of the room number. The door registered her with the central computer and it slid back with the slightest hiss from the pneumatic guiderail.

She had a small suite. It was tastefully decorated, just extravagant enough to be in keeping with her supposed income. A well-stuffed conversation round was at one end of the greeting room, facing a broad ocean-view window. The being perched on it was the only thing out of place in the room.

That worthy stared back at her evenly. It . . . he . . . was just over a meter and a third in height. He looked remarkably like an oversized, portly raccoon. The major differences from the tiny terran mammal consisted of six long, dexterous fingers, more massive forearms, and a high, intelligent brow. There was no mask, the ears were sharply pointed and proportionately larger than the terran look-alike, and the rear feet were webbed.

It also possessed a biting tenor voice. This it used at her entrance, with practiced effect.

“Where the conceptualized clam excretement have you BEEN?”

Kitten tossed her thighbag on a small table holding local magazines and a vase of dampish green flowers.

“Conceptualized clam excretement . . . I like that one, Pors. Your knowledge of arcane invective is always stimulating.” She walked across the room to the bedroom portal and peeked in. “I see, wonder of wonders, that my luggage arrived reasonably intact and together. Did you overtip the bellhop again?”

“I was not here at the time they were deposited. Doubtless they were transported by a mechanism.”

“On this planet, in this metropolis? Don’t bet on it.” She began undoing the long braid. “This place has all the feel of a world that could still make a profit on slave labor. Oh, stop trying to burn holes in me! I was late because one of the local playboys, convinced of his masculine irresistibility, attempted to abduct me. He had visions of performing odd things on my precious body.” The last gold band slid off and she shook her head, generating an obsidian waterfall at her back.

Porsupah said nothing, continued to stare at her. She reached over suddenly and tickled his nose. “Now, wouldn’t that have upset you?”

Porsupah sneezed, attempted to slap her hand, but she drew back too quickly. “I begin to think not.” She moved close again and tried to cuddle, stroking the fur on his spine.

Lieutenant Porsupah was tolerant, but being regarded as cuddlesome was one thing he couldn’t quite put up with.

“Have you no shame, woman! We’re not even of the same species!”

She ruffled his fur again. “You’d have a hard time, by now, convincing the hotel staff of that. Besides, you’re as mammalian as I.”

He couldn’t help a slight smile. “Not by several points.”

“Anyhow,” she whispered huskily, “we could manage a little something, you know . . .”