 table.  "Jimmee!"  It seemed everyone was here tonight.  Kirk spun around just in time to catch Prrghh at the height of her leap. It wasn't one of her more spectacular jumps - Kirk would never forget watching her pounce from the second-floor bannister to land on her feet amid a particularly rousing discussion - but she still contacted him almost chest-high and entwined legs and arms around his torso in lithe, feline abandon. Kirk felt himself blush with pleasure when she stroked her own sleekly furred cheek against his. Acutely aware of all the other eyes in the bar, he resisted an impulse to wind his hands in her long primrose mane.  "James!" The bartender's roar collided with the low ceiling and ricocheted all over the room. "How in hell are you? Long time gone, boy-o!"  At least seven years, Kirk admitted to himself. But not a damned thing about the place had changed. Not so much as a dust mote.  "Don'