This is my first week doing romantic Mondays. I was invited to add a little spice to the line-up! You can find the full list here.
I wanted to do something sweet and sultry, instead of just red hot. I’m afraid you’ll have to stick with it to get to the juicy bits.
I have to be honest, there were times I wanted to take him back. He was 85 lbs. of dog muscle with a bit more to grow. While he was well mannered, he had serious separation anxiety issues. I can’t imagine having him and not working from home. As is, when I left for the store I came back to a foamy mess. He slavered all over his paws and chest. Released from the welded steel kennel, he dashed from room to room, his entire ass wagging.
“Sasha, come, sit.” An American bulldog named Sasha. I shook my head and wiped him down.
My friends and family harassed me when I adopted such a huge dog. Nate took one look at him and said, “So Kerry, you’ve got the vibrator, you’ve got the warm mass to snuggle with. Should you register somewhere, since this is as married as you’re getting?”
Sasha, sensing my irritation, gave him the stink eye.
Nate and I had dated, a long long long time ago. He’d been with his current girlfriend for three years and was planning to propose on Valentine’s day at some fancy restaurant, “‘Cuz she gets all squishy for crap like that.” We went ring shopping, as he felt it was important to get the feminine perspective. I talked him out of a tiny diamond and into a big honking citrine. From what I knew about Veronica, she’d want something a little different that had some oomph. She’d squeal, say yes, then ask Nate if he took Kerry shopping with him.
I liked her, so it felt weird that I was jealous. I didn’t want Nate back, but I wanted something. Everyone thought it was funny, the erotica writer with no love life.
My eyes flicked over to the clock and I realized I’d been staring at my wall for ten minutes, thinking. Sasha nudged my knees and gave me some puppy dog eyes set to: melt mortal soul with warm gooey caramel.
“Wanna go for walk boy?”
He stamped and wagged his tail. Sometimes he reminded me more of a horse than a dog. He whimpered and gamboled as I stuffed a few plastic grocery bags in my pocket and got his collar. I had one of those spiky mean looking ones. People thought it was cruel, but I thought it was in Sasha’s best interest that he be under my control at all times.
We started toward the dog park. Some people gave Sasha a wide berth, others patted him while he politely sat, his tail thumping on the ground.
The main lawn of the dog park was a mass of energetic mutts in flagrant violation of the leash laws. It was one of those things where everybody looked the other way. Sasha and I skirted the edge and said “hello” to the friendly dogs and owners.
A French bulldog trotted up to us, and pretty reverse brindle. Her owner was two steps behind the little dog, yelling, “Shoe!”
Sasha wagged his tail like mad as he sniffed the new dog. It must be a girl.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he said. His voice was warm and masculine, and he had a crinkled Cheshire cat grin. My heart stopped at his beautiful blue eyes.
You’ll have to wait until next week for more!