The Great Dane
Page 2
She cuddled in the left corner—where the cushion had been worn into round-ass comfort—with the remote control in one hand and a cookie in the other. On the television a twenty-something couple was making love. She punched the button. The channel changed to a partially nude couple hugging. What the hell was going on tonight? Last thing she wanted to see was anyone—anyone—enjoying themselves. She hit the button three more times. Where were the kid shows tonight?
The doorbell rang. Rianna flung the remote across the room. It thunked off the edge of the coffee table and fell to the carpet. She leaped to her feet and stormed to the door.
Chapter Four
Jannick shifted from one foot to the other on Ryan’s doorstep. He wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. Ryan had a point with that no-fraternizing thing. But he’d been unable to put her, and her underpants-less ass out of his mind. He’d sported a hard-on all day long. He’d canceled all his meetings, except the ones he could do from the safety of his desk.
Still time to change his mind. He took a single step backward, but his body refused to go any further. As a matter of fact, it moved forward AND his right index finger poked the round, black doorbell. The damned thing chimed. Seemed like it echoed forever through her house.
Suddenly, he heard loud voices like people fighting. This time he did move off the stoop. He didn’t want to intrude. But if they were fighting, he didn’t want Ryan possibly getting hurt. More voices.
Wait, the people weren’t fighting. They were making love.
Man, this was getting really weird. One good thing came of the last few minutes’ events—the day-long boner disappeared. Jannick spun, tucked the giant-sized pizza box under one arm, and took one running step toward his car.
“What are you doing here!” came her voice.
He stopped so short he nearly toppled forward. Too late to run now. He turned around. She stood in the doorway, her silhouetted body backlit from the television. He stepped closer, preparing an explanation.
God, was she really wearing a Barry Manilow shirt?
“I asked what you’re doing here.”
“I brought pizza.” He held it out—as if she couldn’t see it for herself.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to tip the box sideways? All the cheese and stuff slides off.”
She was right; all the weight had definitely shifted, but he tipped the thing up anyway. Anything to delay the ultimate embarrassment—nothing worse than interrupting somebody while they’re making love.
“Stop standing there looking like a dork. Come in.” She stepped back and waited for him to pass.
Come in? At a time like this? No way.
But Ryan was yanking on his sleeve. “Come in.”
Nice place. Well kept. Then came the groaning, and moaning. What had he gotten into? Sounded like an orgy.
Then he burst into laughter. Not an orgy. She was watching porn. On the wide flat screen over the fireplace, two people were screwing like rabbits. Seeing where his gaze had focused, she squeaked and took off. She scurried under a coffee table, made a satisfied grunt and came up with the remote. The TV flashed off. She dropped the remote on the table and came toward him, face red as a fire truck.
“Would you believe the thing changed itself?”
He shook his head.
“I got mad when the doorbell rang and heaved it— Oh damn, doesn’t sound plausible, does it?”
He shook his head.
“Look, I appreciate you bringing the pizza, and I want to apologize for the way I acted on the phone, but you have to leave.”
“Why’d you let me in if you were just going—”
“I have nosy neighbors. I didn’t want them overhearing my business.”
He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter. “But you don’t mind the whole neighborhood knowing what you watch on television.”
“I told you…” She strode to the door and flung it open. “Time to go, Romeo.”
“Romeo?”
“Yes, he was—”
“I know who he was.” He sucked in a breath and took his time letting it out. Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good idea. Last night she’d seemed so normal.
He dropped the box on the coffee table, sighed again and headed for the door. Better cut his losses. Ryan stepped back a little more, as if she was afraid he might touch her on the way past.
“I’m not a Romeo.”
“I guess that was the wrong terminology. You’re not a Romeo, you’re a lying, cheating married bastard.” She must’ve seen his confused expression. “Does the name Ann Clausen ring a bell?”
“Ann?” Well, at least things made sense now. “Ann is my ex -wife.”
She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Sure she is.”
“She was out of town on a business trip and I was watching Denali.” He shot out his right arm, jerked her toward him and kicked the door shut. “I fell in love with you the moment we met.” He planted his lips on hers. He expected a fight or an argument, but there was absolutely none. Her left arm folded around him, her right hand wriggled down the back of his jeans.
Any restraint he had left dissolved as they turned into a squirming, thrashing mass of flesh. She tore off his shirt. He was sure some of the buttons would never be seen again. He wrenched Barry Manilow over her head as they spun away from the door. His foot caught the edge of the coffee table and he went down with Ryan on top of him. She unzipped and tugged his jeans and underwear down at the same time. The fabrics tangled at his knees. Rather than wrestle them the rest of the way off, she sank down on his cast-iron erection. Tight. So tight. Two pumps; one up, one down and she came with an earth-shattering clench around his cock. Fireworks blasted behind Jannick’s eyes. Tremors shook his body. He heard voices. Hers saying, “I love you too, my Great Dane.”
And voices much louder—on television.
God, what would the neighbors think?
**Liz**
To read more about the characters connected to this series, check out the following stories: An American Bulldog by Liz Stafford (Taryn and Dolf) and Long-Haired Persian (Tonya and Gaspar) by Liz Stafford
Liz Stafford
Liz Stafford is new to the world of short stories—and loving it. Being a pet lover and ex-dachshund breeder, introducing a clinic full of pets seemed only right, and natural. Adding men made it even more so…
Email Liz at: hotdog@nhvt.net
Table of Contents
Title page
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Liz Stafford