by Sharon Kleve
“Will there be licking, kissing, and orgasms involved in our celebration?”
“Oh yeah, lots of that.” This time he didn’t hang up. He said, “I miss you. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Hey, progress…
***
Pike Place Market was crazy busy. I squeezed my Mini Cooper into a motorcycle parking spot. I figured I wouldn’t be long. I crawled over my stick shift and out the passenger door. As my left leg cleared, I spotted a beautifully-styled head of platinum blonde hair. The last time I’s seen the widow, she had a martini in her hand.
Pike Place Market was famous for their fish throwers, called fishmongers. The widow had her lips glued to one of the young, hunky, fishmongers. I guess I wouldn’t have been shocked if it had been longer than thirty days since Mr. Langfield’s untimely death.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the young stud broke the hot kiss to kick a stray mutt. For cripes sakes, he must smell like fish—what was a dog to do? The little guy yelped ran down a nearby alley. I walked over to the alley, unnoticed by the widow and her boy-toy.
When the poor fella heard me, he hid behind a garbage can. “Hey buddy, are you okay?”
I saw two beady eyes emerge around the can. “You can understand me, lady?”
“Yeah, I’m lucky that way. Has that guy hurt you before?”
“That guy’s a jerk; most of the fish guys throw scraps our way, but he doesn’t. He usually waits until his girlfriend is gone before he kicks us, though.”
“She’s his girlfriend, huh? How long has she been coming around?”
“That guy has worked here as long as I’ve been coming around—about four years. She’s been coming to see him the whole time. They usually kiss in the backroom, not out in the open.”
That meant she’d dated the stud while she seduced a rich, horny, old man for his millions. She better not have had a hand in his death. Before I delved into that mystery, the pooch and I needed to get a little revenge on that fishmonger for kicking him. I developed a devious plan and when we were done with the fishmonger, he’d have a greater respect for animals.
“What’s your name, buddy?”
“Gus. What’s yours?”
“Corny. How do you feel about getting a little revenge on the jackass who kicked you?”
“I’m all for it. I’ve got a bunch of friends who would love to help. I’ll go get them.”
“Okay, the more the merrier. Meet me back here in thirty minutes.” This was my lucky day. The jerk left with the widow and she didn’t look happy.
I needed to find out where the jerk lived. I applied bubble gum lip gloss to my lips and undid a couple buttons on my blouse, for extra motivation. You get a lot of information from a guy when you show a little cleavage.
I walked up to the fish counter and spotted a young, severely buff fishmonger. I slowly bent over to admire the fresh scallops, and revealed a lot of my pink Victoria Secret push-up bra. Then, when his brain cells couldn’t take anymore visual stimulation, I started asking questions.”I’m a little embarrassed to ask this, but if I described a guy to you, could you tell me if he works here?”
“Sure, I’ll try.” He stared at my boobs—zero brain cells left.
“He resembles a linebacker for the 49ers and he’s a little rough around the edges— if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about. Why do you want his name? He’s already got a hot girlfriend.”
“Well, I met a sexy guy last month and we had a bunch of fun, after way too many beers. He said he was single and that he worked here. He gave me his phone number, but I forgot his name.” The poor guy’s brain cells were toast, because he told me exactly what I needed to know.
“Geez, if I had a girlfriend that looked like her, I wouldn’t be cheating on her, even though you’re hot too. His name is Mike Dickers, but his friends call him ‘the weasel.’ Do me a favor and don’t mention that I told you his name. In case you turn out to be a stalker, or worse, a psycho, okay?”
“Sure,” He also wrote down the weasel’s home address.
Thirty minute later, I spotted the large pack of dogs waiting for me in the alley. I might have bitten off more than I could chew. There were a lot of them and they wanted payback.
“Listen up guys and gals: I have a dinner date with a sexy guy; we need to make this quick. I found out where the jerk lives and I thought all of you could go leave your special mark on his doorstep.”
The Great Dane must have been the leader because he spoke for the whole pack. “I think that’s a great idea. How are we going to get to his home?”
“He only lives two blocks down on Alaskan Way. You smaller guys ride with me and you bigger dogs can meet us there. It’s that new red brick building and he lives on the second floor.”
“Come on guys; let’s show him what we think of him. We’ll leave a mark he’ll never forget.”
I piled all the smaller dogs in my car. A Cocker Spaniel spoke up, “Hey lady, I can’t make it to the apartment building.”
I pulled over quickly. He hopped over two beagles, lifted his leg, and peed on a nearby lamp post. “Sorry, I have a weak bladder, but I can poop as planned.”
“Good to know.”
When they all arrived, I counted the pack. Wow, ten large dogs and six smaller dogs. “Here’s the plan—its really simple. I’ll open the apartment building door; you guys run up the stairs to apartment 212. Let loose all your doggie frustration on his doorstep and then hightail it back downstairs. I’ll let you guys out, but you better scatter fast. Got it?”
The Great Dane gave a woof.”Baby, you better stand back. We’ve never done a group poop before—it could get messy.”
The Great Dane was flirting with me. How strange. I opened the door and all sixteen dogs ran up the stairs and proceeded to the weasel’s door. All of a sudden a horrendous odor floated down the stairs. They must have let loose a week’s worth of shit. The stench was unbearable. As they ran past me, I shrieked, “Holy crap.” I passed one of the poodles, as I headed for my car. I would’ve given up a month’s worth of cupcakes if I could’ve seen the weasel’s face when he arrived home to find sixteen piles of warm dog poop.
I still needed to pick up dinner and then try and act normal in front of Steve. It was definitely not a story I wanted to share with him.
“Hey Pete, are you okay? You haven’t said a word through this whole thing.”
“I take a bow. You are my absolute hero!”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
I was shocked and amazed, when I arrived at Steve’s. He was ready for me, naked and all his body parts singing a happy tune.
“Hi there, babe. Have you ever ridden through a spin cycle on a washer machine—naked?”
I had a pretty good idea what he meant and I was all for it. “Lead the way stud muffin. Show me what you can do with a Maytag.” Wow, and did he ever.
Steve kissed me and my toes curled. He said, “I’m starved, put the potatoes in the microwave and I’ll start the steaks. Can you turn on the news and see if anything interesting happened today, besides murder and mayhem?” He kissed me again.
After I flipped through the channels I noticed a couple of the smaller news stations had reported the same crime. Yikes. “Mr. Dickers has a lengthy record of drunken disorderly and threatening a police officer. This latest incident came as no surprise to law enforcement,” They reported from his apartment building. A guy in an Armani suit must have missed the action because he asked the reporter, “Did the guy have a bomb? Are we safe?”
The reporter got a silly grin on her face, as though she couldn’t contain her laughter, “Yes, you’re perfectly safe. Mr. Dickers was arrested for disorderly conduct.”
I was engrossed in the news and didn’t hear Steve behind me. “What are you watching? What’s going
on downtown?”
“They’re not giving any details on exactly what happened. All they’re saying is a guy’s been arrested for being stupid. Hey, are the steaks ready? My stomach is growling.”
“Corny, do you have information about this that you’re not telling me?” Steve had his cop face on.
“Oh, no.”
“Okay… let’s go eat. Remind me later that I have a treat for you.”
“I love treats. Are we turning on the spin cycle of the washing machine again?”
He kissed me behind the ear and I melted. “You liked that huh? I thought you would. No, but it’ll make you almost as happy.”
Stuffed full of meat and potatoes, I still wanted my treat, “Steve, show me, Show me my treat.”
He laughed. “Baby, look in the refrigerator.”
At first all I saw was cheese and lunch meat and then I spotted a bakery bag, way in the back. My ovaries contracted, and that could only mean one thing. I was about to start my period and there was sugar nearby. I reached in the bag and gently removed a dreamy red cupcake. The smell intoxicated me. I’d be surprised if I left any frosting behind on the inside of the bag. I vaguely remember when I turned the bag inside out and licked it. PMS had arrived, once again.
Steve walked into the kitchen and stared longingly at my cupcake. “It’s a red velvet cupcake,” he told me with awe in his voice. “They were giving out samples at Albertson’s.
He had the nerve to make a move toward it, as though he might take it from me. Hadn’t his mother taught him not to touch a woman’s pastry? He could lose a finger for that mistake. I smacked his hand and he retreated to the corner of the kitchen, like a smart man. “Hey, what was that for? Aren’t you going to share it with me?”
“Share a cupcake when I’m PMS-ing? What are you, crazy? You should’ve bought two.” Without another word, I dipped my finger in the icing and slid it onto my tongue. The flavor exploded in my mouth and a possessive growl escaped. Steve backed up a step. I grabbed the top, twisted it to the right, and popped it off. He backed up another step.
Steve talked, but I was in heaven and in heaven, men weren’t grumpy. He must have got disgusted and left because when I slipped out of my sugar hypnosis, he was gone. He should have listened more carefully when I told him what PMS and sugar did to me.
***
The next morning, I felt much better. Maybe Steve would forgive me if I made him a couple of frozen waffles. When they were golden brown, I sprinkled them with powdered sugar. That was a gourmet breakfast, by anyone’s standard. “Hi sexy, do you forgive me for growling at you last night? Look, I made you a nutritious breakfast.”
“Corny, I have to ask you something. I know this sounds nuts, but did you have anything to do with Mr. Dickers’s little surprise?”
Gulp, how did he figure that out? “Can I claim plausible deniability?”
His eyes dilated and then he put his hands over his ears, closed his eyes, and shook his head back and forth. After a moment, he smiled and said, “Breakfast looks as though it took hours to make; we better eat before it gets cold.”
And that was that.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
After my business had been open a week, I needed to hire someone to help with the day-to-day operations—mainly answer the phones and make me coffee.
Brenda had a niece, Halo, who was currently unemployed, previously worked at Starbucks, and loved animals. She would be perfect. Halo called me ten minutes after I hung up with Brenda. “Dude, I heard you need a girl-Friday, which would be me. I can start tomorrow. Is there, like, a dress code or anything? Because I’m like a free spirit and I never know what mood will strike me from day-to-day.”
“Well yes, you can start tomorrow and we’ll take it one day at a time on the dress code. How’s that?”
“Cool. See you tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. Oh, do you have an espresso machine or do I need to hit Starbucks on the way in?”
“Actually, I have a top-of-the-line espresso machine, but I haven’t mastered it yet. Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”
“Groovy!”
***
Halo showed up with multiple shades of purple in her hair, pierced nose and eyebrows. But boy, she could make an awesome latte. She made creative designs in the foam. The first one was a caramel latte with a Christmas tree in the foam and after lunch I had a large penis atop my espresso. Halo was cool. I kept finding myself wanting espresso, just to see what she would come up with. I wondered if she could cook.
The next few weeks were pretty much the same, busy during the day and busy with Steve at night. Then one day I picked up my mail and got a wonderful surprise—a jury summons. I was chosen to be on Mr. Dicker’s jury. What justice!
Books to Go Now at www.bookstogonow.com prides ourselve with representing great stories at low prices.
We want to take you into the digital age offering a market that will allow you to grow along with us in our journey through the new frontier of digital publishing.
Some of our favorite award-winning authors have now joined us. We welcome readers and writers into our community.
We want to make sure that as a reader you are supplied with never-ending great stories. As a company, Books to Go Now, wants its readers and writers supplied with positive experience and encouragement so they will return again and again.
Our prices are start at only .99 per story.
We want to hear from you. Our readers and writers are the cornerstone of our company. If there is something you would like to say or a genre that you would like to see, please email us at
bookstogonow @ gmail.com