by K. F. Breene
Lump watched him flee sat in his seat. “Besides that first night, I cried once with him. I had to punch him in the stomach to get him to let me out of a bear hug. It’s because of the memories of his mother—“
“Lump, I know his history. What I need to know is about Gladis.”
“Oh right—sorry. Seriously, it’s not that bad. The chest pain was probably muscle related, not heart related, and the shortness of breath was just the way she was sitting. Which Gladis tried to say. She’d twisted wrong yesterday when she tried to hit me with a tennis ball, so that all makes sense. It was Lady and Adam that were freaking out. Lady took Gladis in to the doctor just to be sure.”
“You should probably stop that throwing game.”
“I suggested it, but I could tell it upset Gladis. Her spirits are low. She can’t move as liberally anymore.”
I nodded, feeling better. “Adam needs to learn how to break news to people a little better.”
“You think? Why’d you start crying? Just to get your way?”
“Shut up! I’m not that bad. No, he was getting all sentimental and it clicked that whatever you had to tell me about Gladis probably had something to do with it.”
“He’s a moron. I told him to keep his mouth shut on the whole deal until I saw you.”
“It was my fault. I asked what was troubling him.”
Lump snickered. “He’s too honest by half.”
“So anyway, what are you two up to? Wanna do something?”
“I’d prefer to have sex, actually.”
“Well, I’m not up for that. What about a little later? Movie? Shopping? Eating? Counting our toes?”
“Don’t you have any friends?” Lump laughed.
“Funny story, actually. I imported one of my very own. Found her a place to live, gave her some shopping money, introduced her to some really good people… We hung out a lot, but then she ditched me when she found a guy.”
“That’s because I’d finished using you, and you got too boring.”
“Yeah, I know. And now I have no friends again. I wonder if Jane is done with school.”
“One more year, actually, and she’d just hook up with Brad. She’s still talking to him.”
“What? She never told me that.”
“She didn’t want you to say anything.”
“Crap. Does that mean I can’t?”
Lump shrugged.
“Good. Then I will!”
“I think we are meeting everyone tonight. You in?”
“What else would I be doing?”
“Counting to the ninth toe, then getting stuck and having to start over…”
“Shut up.”
After an absurdly long night, where I’d sat next to Jasmine, not realizing Lump was avoiding her and why, I left the bar early and stopped in on Gladis on the way home to check on her. Lump had been right, she just had a sore muscle, but she was happy for the attention.
That done, I continued on to the cottage, happy to have a quiet second away from drama.
Turned out, Jasmine and Moose weren’t doing so well. She was spending more and more time with her girls, and he was on her case about it. They bickered and fought, not agreeing on much, but sitting next to each other in order to pick on the other. When Moose got fed up and walked away, Jasmine would try to talk all kinds of crap. She'd say things like he was smothering her, or how he just wasn’t cutting it anymore, and how he stopped being all that great in bed.
That was about when I tried to pull the ejection lever by going to the bathroom and getting lost. She followed, though. She hooked up to me like a trailer, not letting me disappear for any length of time. What’s worse; Lump wouldn’t break me out.
I did feel for Jasmine. She was looking for the courage to break it off. That much was obvious. Everyone but Moose saw it. But the bottom line was, Moose was my friend, and she was his girlfriend. My loyalties lied with him. I didn’t want to hear his faults because to me he didn’t have any. It was a hopeless situation.
I walked into the cottage and stepped aside as Fred took off, sprinting like the devil was on his tail. He needed to do a perimeter check, and I needed a glass of wine. And a book. Sucks that it was Saturday and I was home early, alone, but it was better than being stuck between a couple on the verge of breaking up.
I sighed and went to my shelves. I had a murder-mystery that Lump gave me that needed to be read. I usually hated that kind of story; there was one sure way to convince me that a boogey-man was in my house, and that was a book telling me it was true. By the end I’d be jumping at shadows and accusing Gladis of murdering one of the maids. But I had nothing else besides historical non-fiction, so murder it was.
My phone rang and my heart thumped. William!
“Hi babe!” I said excitedly.
“Wow, that was a better reception than this morning.” He sounded tired.
“You called at six o’clock this morning. No one gets a nice reception at six o'clock.”
He laughed through the phone. “I know. I just don’t have a lot of time during the day.”
“Are you on your way home now?”
“To my hotel, yeah. I have more to do—I’m trying to get everything done as quickly as possible. But I can do paperwork from there.”
“How’s it going?”
He gave me a big sigh. I had a feeling he was rubbing his eyes. “Slowly. We don’t have a great team of management out here. They aren’t in to working real hard. But I am pushing and they are responding. Slowly.”
“Do you think you’ll get to come home in another week?”
“Yes.” He said it so firmly I had a feeling he would play Russian roulette with whoever was holding up the show before he committed to stay longer.
“Well, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, baby. A lot. How’s Gladis?”
I told him about Adam botching the news that morning, and the actual outcome.
“She needs to take it easy, but there’s no telling her that,” he concluded. He was moving around—probably in his hotel room now, getting comfortable. Which gave me an idea.
“Phone sex?”
William laughed. “I want to but I can’t. I have a pile to get through tonight so I can make my meetings tomorrow. All goes well, which it will, I can make it home to you and have some real sex.”
“I bet we could be super quick.”
“Oh, it’d be quick. But then I’d fall asleep. I can’t fall asleep. Not for another few hours.”
“It’s already ten o’clock.”
“Speaking of, why are you home so early? Couldn’t find any single guys to hit on?”
“Brad was around. I could’ve hit on him if I wanted.”
“But then Jane would be after you.”
“Yeah, there’s that. No, Jasmine glued herself to my side and talked shit about Moose all night.”
“I heard about all that. Moose is pretty tore up about it. He doesn’t understand what the problem is. He’s trying to fix it.”
“He won’t. It’s a done deal. She just has to tell him.”
“Think so?”
“Know so.”
“Hmm.” I heard him shift. “It sucks. Glad I’m not him.”
“If I didn’t miss you so much, I’d play into that comment.”
“Where are you?”
“In my reading chair.”
“Fred?”
“Scouting the perimeter, just like you taught him.”
“Dobes do that naturally. What are you wearing?”
“Nothing but a pair of socks.”
I heard an intake of breath. Then, “Where is your left hand?”
Smiling to myself, and hurrying to get into position so he couldn’t back out, I reached my hand into my panties. “My middle finger is rubbing up my wet slit.”
He groaned. I faintly heard a zipper and more rustling. “Put it inside you.”
I did as instructed, laying back and spreading my legs, feeling more thoroughly.
“Now what?” he asked gruffly. His voice was already labored. It meant he wasn’t even getting time to masturbate over there. He’d be a ball of sexual frustration when he got home.
I smiled with that thought.
“I am putting my hand over my breast, teasing a nipple. My other hand is teasing my clit, pretending it is your tongue.”
“Hmmm.”
“I’m dipping one finger inside myself.”
“Talk dirty.”
Crap—I was terrible at talking dirty. I didn’t much like the p-word. Still, I wanted a happy ending so I gave it a try. “I’m rubbing my pu—pussy,” I said in a hushed voice, strangely embarrassed someone might overhear.
“Um hmmm.”
“I'm fu—finger fucking myself.”
“Yes, baby.”
I was actually turned on. I rubbed my clitoris harder, liking the build.
“I’m rubbing my hard nipple,” I lied.
“Where do you want my cock?” he navigated.
“Inside of me, William. I want you to pound your hard cock inside me.”
“Yes, Jess. More.”
“I want you to take me. To lay me on the bed and push into me. Hard.”
He was breathing fast now, his movement ringing through the phone.
“I want you to fuck my pu-pussy, William. Fuck me.”
“Jess—“ His voice was strained, my name cut off as he spilled his load.
I took a moment to myself, keeping the p-word out of my head so I could envision his body and find my climax. By the time he was finished cleaning up, I was shuttering in delight.
“Are you embarrassed?” he asked with a smile hidden through the phone.
“I’m good.”
“I like when you talk dirty.”
“I like when you are corporal.”
“Nice hedge.” He laughed. “I love you more than words.”
“I love you, too, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
“Not soon enough. Stay safe.”
I always got teary when I said goodbye to him. It was scary how much I missed the guy. How much I depended on him. It felt like he had one of my ribs and was pulling on it from the other side of the United States.
Unimpressed with the state of my Saturday night, I opened the cover of Lump’s book and started reading.
I startled awake with drool on my face and a crick in my neck. I was still in my reading chair, but the book was laying on the ground. I remembered taking a break when the heroine was walking into the house where the villain was waiting for her, and apparently my brain figured sleeping was better than being scared.
It took me a moment to realize that something was wrong. It took me another moment realize it was because Fred was standing three feet from me, hair bristled, looking toward the window across from me with a low, deep growl in his throat.
I had only ever heard this dog growl when I was playing with him, or the one time William was agitated in my vicinity. With a dog trained like Fred, growling meant warning.
The small hairs on my neck stood on end. I got up slowly and turned off the light. If someone was in the house Fred wouldn’t be looking at the window. If someone was outside, they would be able to see in if the light was on.
Those were logical thoughts that came slowly, which meant fear was trying to eat away at my senses.
First thing: make sure the doors are locked. I’d gotten lax since I moved to this cottage.
In the darkness I hastened out of the room and away from the windows to the stairwell. There were no other lights on, so I hurried down the stairs and to the front door, Fred shadowing me all the way. I grabbed the deadbolt and twisted—it didn’t move.
Good. Locked.
I let out a breath of relief. Back door would certainly be locked—I never used it.
So. I was in the locked house with a trained, hopefully lethal, Doberman Pincher. Things could be worse.
Next step: peep out the window and get a good laugh when I realized it was Lump needing…something. A chat, maybe. Perhaps she had a fight with Adam.
But Fred wouldn’t growl at Lump. Maybe some hair bristling until she got to the door, but no growl. Growl meant something was amiss.
Okay then, I need to peep out a window.
I really don’t want to.
Steeling my nerve, I tip-toed through the living room to a window facing away from the house. If there was someone out there, they would probably come through the trees and stuff, right?
There was no one there. It took me ten seconds to realize that I was stupid, and Fred was not turned this way. He was turned toward Gladis’s house. Which might be good news.
Oh God, what if Dusty got out?
Fred would eat him.
But what if he still had the gun?
Without further ado, I sprinted upstairs to my bedroom and nearly jumped into my running shoes. Whatever it was, I’d rather run like a chicken then stay and fight. I couldn’t get far in bare feet.
Shoes on, complimenting pajama bottoms and a hoodie, I tip-toed through the house—why am I tip-toeing?—to the side that Fred was still growling at. Hesitantly, I peeped through the side of the curtain.
It was dark. Because it was night.
C’mon brain, fire up!
The moon was slim, so not much light illuminated the pool or surrounding grass. Nothing moved, not even flowers. The night was still and quiet.
I really wished it would’ve been kids trying to drape toilette paper across my cottage.
Fred’s growl got louder.
I hurried back downstairs, trying not to tip-toe since it was hard in running shoes, and crossed the front door to the laundry room. I knew it had blinds and I didn’t want to go sticking my big head in the window for someone to see and shoot at. Or even know I was here.
I peeped again. Still and quiet. The darkness pressed down on the tree line.
How the hell could Fred know something was wrong unless he heard or saw it? Or smelt it? If he did any of those things, it was probably because the intruder was close. If the intruder was close, I should see the sucker.
As if in answer, he stopped growling.
I listened.
Suddenly the night was unnaturally quiet. It felt like the air was pressing in on me from all sides.
I took a big, steadying breath and stared at Fred. He was standing still, sniffing. He took a few steps toward me, then trotted out of the room.
Damn it Fred!
Trying to get my heart back to normal, I went back to the reading room and grabbed my phone. Why I thought running shoes were more important than a phone just showed how off-line my brain was.
Trying to dial with shaking hands, I got the line ringing, hoping Lump was at Gladis’s. It rang out. But then, it was close to twelve, and she didn’t answer the phone to me if she was sleeping unless I called a million times, so that wasn’t a big deal.
Deciding to head to bed, I walked down the hallway and into my room. A hulking shape jumped down from my bed.
I screamed and ran—into the door frame! I pushed myself off and got into the hallway when Fred ran past and waited for me at the top of the stairs.
My breath was ragged, my heart trying to escape the confines of my ribs. I gripped the banister with white-knuckles, seriously thinking about kicking the damn dog.
“You scared the God-damned shit out of me!”
Fred started growling again and ran downstairs.
“God damn Fred.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Maybe Fred just needed to poop really bad. A deeply potty trained dog could get really upset if he needed to poop and he was inside.
Right? I think I heard that somewhere…
Hands shaking harder, I dialed Adam as I made my way downstairs. Fred was in the living room at a window, growling louder than I had ever heard him. Ever.
Adam’s phone rang out.
To call Gladis or not to call Gladis—what the hell could she do? She couldn’t even
hit Lump with a tennis ball and all her people were 800 years old!
Police?
What would I say—Hello, officer, I’ve been reading mysteries without my boyfriend and my dog started growling. Could you come have a look? I’ll lock myself inside until you give the all-clear, mmmkay?
I called Adam again. Then Lump. Then Adam. Then Lump.
I figured if they were together I would be really, really annoying about now.
Fred stopped growling again. The silence was absolute. No crickets. No night birds. The people in Gladis’s house could probably hear my heart beating.
Where the hell are the crickets?
“Jessica, what the fuck do you want?” Lump asked angrily on the next call.
“Um, hi, not sure, but—“
“Are you drunk?”
“N-no.” My voice was shaking.
Fred sprinted through the house. I turned my body to face the back door, where he started growling in fluctuating, angry noises. Another jolt of pure terror flashed through my midsection.
“Can I talk to Adam?”
“Are you serious right now? Why do you want to talk to Adam?”
“I was just wondering how serious it is if Fred growls? I can’t remember exactly what William said.”
“Jess, he’s a damn dog. They growl. We’re right in the middle—“ Lump made a sound like a distant Ow!
“Jess.” It was Adam. “Did you say Fred was growling?”
“Y-yeah. Is that bad? Are you at the Big House?”
Fred came back to the living room, his growl taking up all the breathing room in the house. He leaned his lithe body against my legs, his back looking like a black, short-haired porcupine.
“I don’t know if there is someone there—I didn’t see anyone—but Fred has been growling off and on.” I took a breath. “I’m scared, a little.”
“You sound more than a little scared. Tell me what happened.”
I started to, but before I got very far Fred took off running. Halfway through the house, he dramatically changed directions, heading right back for me. If a dog could scream out a growl, Fred would’ve been doing it.
“Is that Fred?” Adam asked, fear ebbing his words.
“So it is bad,” I whined.