I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

The warm, golden glow of the tavern’s string lights danced across the polished wooden bar like spilled honey, casting long, hazy shadows that made the air feel thicker, sweeter, and a little dizzy. I leaned back against the worn leather stool, the faint creak of old wood beneath me mixing with the low, steady hum of the jukebox in the corner—some old jazz tune that crackled like distant stars. The rich, smoky scent of aged whiskey and grilled fries hung heavy in the air, sharp and intoxicating, curling around my nose and throat until it made my head spin just a little. Every few seconds a soft, fizzy *hic* echoed from the girl on the stool right beside me, turning into a trail of tiny white bubbles that popped like tiny fireworks above her fluffy orange tail.

She was everything I wasn’t expecting and everything I wanted—blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail that kept slipping over one eye, cat ears twitching lazily with inner fluff, and a tan body striped in warm orange stripes that caught the light like sunlight on warm sand. Her white muzzle was flushed deep pink, her brown eyes glassy and half-lidded with that special drunk sparkle, and her tail—oh gods, her tail—was a living flame: orange at the tip fading to snowy white, swishing slow and lazy behind her like it had its own heartbeat. She wore a black tank top that hugged her chest in a way that made the fabric stretch just enough to show the soft, warm curve of her cleavage every time she breathed, and pink frilly panties peeking out from under her blue denim shorts that had slid down just enough to sit low on her hips, the stitching already starting to strain against the generous swell of her hips and the big, round curve of her butt that rose proudly off the stool like an invitation the universe itself had written.

The fox behind the bar—orange fur, sharp ears, that cocky little smirk that said he’d seen this exact show a hundred times—watched her with one eyebrow raised, wiping the same spot on the counter over and over like he was trying to polish away her existence. His white shirt and black vest looked crisp even after hours of work, the black tie still perfectly knotted, but his tail flicked once behind him in clear irritation. The ice in her glass clinked softly as she lifted it, the sound like wind chimes in a quiet room, and she took a slow sip, amber liquid catching the light, a single drop trailing down her chin before she licked it away with a pink tongue that looked too soft and too warm.

“Pffft—Hey…” The word came out slurred, stretched like taffy pulled too slow, her voice a low, husky purr that vibrated straight through her chest and into the air between us. She leaned forward on her elbows, the motion making her striped arms flex and her tank top shift just enough to flash another teasing glimpse of pale fur beneath. Her tail curled higher, brushing the back of the stool with a soft *thump*, the long orange-and-white length waving like a banner. “See shummmthing… u like?” Another *hic*—this one bigger, bubbling out in a little cloud that floated up and popped near her ear. She blinked slowly, one eye half-closed, the other sparkling with mischief and something warmer. “Cauhse… you’re lookin’ at me like that, an’ I just… hnnngh… thought maybe you’d like to see a little more~”

Her free hand—soft, warm, with five little claws painted a soft pink—rested on her own thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles on the denim stretched tight over her thigh. The fabric of her shorts creaked faintly with every breath, the zipper only half-up, the hem riding up just enough to show the delicate pink stitching of her panties and the way the fabric cupped the heavy, plush curve of her ass cheeks. The scent of her hit me again—warm vanilla and honey mixed with the sharp bite of spilled whiskey, her own skin carrying the faint, sweet musk of arousal that made the air feel thicker, heavier, like the whole bar had been wrapped in silk. Every time she shifted, the stool creaked louder, her tail flicking faster, brushing against my leg in a teasing ghost of contact that sent sparks up my spine.

She giggled, the sound bright and bubbly, turning into a soft *hic* that made her whole body shake. “W-what was that? Oh—*HIC*—Hey, barkeep! Another drink for my new best fr-r-rriend?” She waggled the glass in my direction, the ice still clinking, golden liquid swirling inside like liquid sunlight. Her ears perked up, the inner fluff fluffy and adorable, and she tilted her head so her ponytail slid over one eye, revealing the full, flushed pink of her cheek and the tiny scar on her inner ear that made her look both tough and ridiculously cute. “You’re all… tall an’ striped like me, but you got the kinda look in your eyes like you know exactly what I’m tryin’ to say. An’ I’m sayin’ it real slow… ‘cusse I’m a little… hic… drunk. See shumthing you like?” Her voice dropped into a husky whisper that carried the warm breath of alcohol and honey, her brown eyes locking onto mine with that perfect, tipsy focus. “Cauhse I do… look at you. I do. An’ I think… mmm… maybe you like lookin’ back.”

The fox behind the bar sighed, long and dramatic, the sound cutting through the low jazz like a knife through warm butter. “Kid, I’ve heard that line a thousand times tonight,” he muttered, wiping the same spot again, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was fighting a smile. He reached for a fresh glass, the clink of ice against crystal echoing like a bell, and poured another amber liquid with a splash that sent droplets flying across the bar. “You’re gonna be trouble, you know that?”

The cat girl—my new best friend, apparently—only laughed, the sound turning into another bubbling *hic* that made her ears twitch wildly. She didn’t even glance back at him; her focus stayed locked on me, tail curling higher, brushing my knee with another soft, warm *thump-thump*. “Trouble? I’m the best kind of trouble, mister… whatever your name is. Hey—*HIC*—you don’t gotta tell me. I like the mystery. Makes it sweeter. Like… like this drink.” She took another slow sip, eyes fluttering half-closed, the ice clicking against her teeth, a tiny drop rolling down her chin and disappearing into the soft fur of her neck. “Mmm… warm. Sweet. Like you.” Her tail wrapped once around the stool leg, then unwound, leaving a faint, warm trail of scent on the wood that mixed with the whiskey and made the whole bar smell like her—honey, vanilla, and that intoxicating, sweet musk that made the air feel alive and heavy around me.

She shifted again, stretching her arms overhead in a slow, luxurious motion that made her tank top ride up just enough to flash the smooth white curve of her belly, the soft lines of muscle and fat that promised everything and nothing at the same time. Her butt wiggled once on the stool, a soft *thump* against the wood that sent another wave of that sweet, warm scent drifting my way. “See? I’m doin’ my part,” she purred, voice slurring thicker now, words running together like honey poured too fast. “Lookin’ back at you… raisin’ my tail just a little… givin’ you a good view of… hic… the best part.” Her grin widened, all teeth and blush, one ear flicking as she blew a tiny, fizzy *hic* bubble in my direction. It popped against my cheek like a kiss.

The jazz on the jukebox swelled for a moment, saxophone crying like a lover’s sigh, while outside the window the streetlights flickered on, painting the night in soft amber. Inside, the bar felt smaller, warmer, the walls closing in with every breath of her perfume and the soft creak of her stool as she leaned even closer. Her hand reached out—not quite touching, just hovering near my arm, fingers flexing like she wanted to trace the stripes on my own fur but didn’t dare. “You like it?” she whispered, the word dissolving into a long, drunken giggle that turned into *HIC*—*HIC*—*HIC*, three perfect bubbles floating up and popping in a sparkling halo around her head. Her tail lashed once, fast, then slowed, curling lazily around the stool again like a sleepy cat.

The fox bartender finally just shook his head, pouring another round without being asked, the clink of glasses mixing with the low laughter bubbling from the cat girl’s throat. She never took her eyes off me. “Cauhse you’re the only one here who’s lookin’… like you see me. All of me. The stripes… the ponytail… the way my tail moves when I’m… *hic*… happy. An’ right now? I’m real happy. Real, real drunk. So… see something you like?” Another slow sip, ice clinking softly, her voice dropping to a husky, slurred purr that wrapped around every word like warm silk. “Cauhse I sure do… an’ I think you do too. *HIC*~”

The night stretched on, the music playing, the whiskey flowing, and the sweet, hazy scent of her keeping me right there—trapped in the warm circle of her drunk, flirty light, every sense alive with the creak of wood, the clink of glass, the soft pop of bubbles, and the promise of whatever came next in the soft, amber glow of the bar.