Based on the short story: Mrs. Smith Gets Busted by Just A Girl
I had just pulled into the driveway when I noticed the neighbor's black Lab was outside. I frowned, thinking Max had probably knocked out a window screen again. Dr. Singh left his upstairs open during nice weather--though today, in the high eighties and uncomfortably sticky, it wasn't particularly nice--and Max had twice now knocked a screen out and escaped. Sure enough, looking at the second floor windows, I saw a curtain protruding over a windowsill.
"Mia," I sighed. "We have to get the dog."
Mia immediately perked up. "Max is outside again?"
"Yes," I acknowledged, watching Max watching us. "Time to play good neighbor again."
Leaving my purse and the shopping bags in the car, I took Mia by the hand and lead her across the lawn into the neighbor's yard. Max liked me well enough, but he adored 10-year-old Mia. He immediately rose and loped over to meet us.
"Maxie!" Mia squealed excitedly. She rubbed his head and down both sides of his flank, giving him a big hug that Max responded to with a loud bark. Mia giggled, which made me roll my eyes and grin.
"Come on, trouble-maker," I said, scratching Max's ears before sliding a finger beneath his collar. "You come play with Mia, while I go leave your pain in the ass owner a note on the door."
"Mama!" Mia responded disapprovingly.
"Pardon my French," I said, grinning ruefully. I had forgotten myself again. Ten points.
Retrieving my purse for the car, I extracted a pen and a torn-in-half piece of notepaper, which I further decimated by tearing in half again. I jotted down the particulars of Max's latest escape, and then stuck the note between the brass knocker and the strike pad on Dr. Singh's front door. A bark from inside told me that Thor, his German Shepard, was behaving himself. I returned to the car and took my purse and the three bags of new purchases into the house.
"Can we keep him until Dr. Singh gets home?" Mia pleaded excitedly.
A pediatrician, Dr. Singh had a large clientele of Pakistani children. He also volunteered at the local clinic, which meant that he sometimes didn't turn up until eight o'clock at night or later. Frowning, I bet myself tonight was one of those nights.
"I suppose so," I grumbled irritably. Max was a big dog with a big dog's appetite. His last visit had seen the disappearance of two cans of Chef Boyardee Beef Ravioli, and a large can of smoked salmon. I wondered what injury to my pantry I'd see tonight. It wouldn't be so bad, if the good doctor (I say this entirely in jest, as there is no way I'd ever let him near my daughter as a pedestrian) would deem to pay me back for the expenditures; instead, he'd actually gotten a little rude concerning my choice of dinner for Max. Seems he's on a tightly controlled diet. Seething inside, I had nonetheless remained entirely pleasant to the man.
"I wish we could keep him," Mia opined, wrapping so tightly around Max's neck as to make him emit faint choking sounds.
"Easy, sweetie," I cautioned.
Frank, my ex-husband and Mia's father had a severe allergy to animal dander. Any pet had been out of the question while Frank was in residence. But, having seen her father only once in the last six months, I had promised Mia I'd think about getting her a dog. A small dog, nothing like this energetic black monster she was doing her best to strangle.
While I prepared a deep-dish pizza for Mia and I, she set out a bowl of water, as well as an empty bowl for whatever treat I might select from the pantry. She squealed with glee when Max licked her from chin to hairline, but earned a slap on the fanny for trying to lick him back.
"Dog's are not clean, young lady. One of the dirtiest things on the face of the earth is a dog's tongue. Don't let me catch you trying to swap spit with him again." Frank would have simply snatched Mia up from the floor and paddled her bare behind, another reason I was glad to see him gone. Mia immediately giggled and smiled widely.
While Mia and I ate pizza and a salad--well, I had the salad--Max pigged out on a double helping of Beefaroni and a can of Star-Kist tuna. Afterward, we all three of us retired to the family room to watch some TV. It was just after six o'clock.
Around eight, my cell phone rang. Digging it out of my pocket, I set aside my glass of Diet Coke, not really cognizant of what I was doing, wondering if Dr. Singh was calling about his dog. I said "Hello?" in the same instant the glass tottered off the far edge of the end table and plummeted to the floor. "Oh, shit!" I exclaimed, jumping up.
"Donna? Is that you, Donna?"
"Hold on a minute, Mom," I pleaded, rolling my eyes and silently cursing the puddle of fizzy brown liquid soaking into my carpet.
"Go!" I ordered, pointing Mia toward the kitchen. "Get a couple of towels out of the laundry basket. Dirty ones if there are any," I added as she disappeared at a run. Phone clamped between my shoulder and ear, I told Mom to hold on while I picked up what visible ice cubes there were, and then moved the table away from the now-mostly absorbed puddle.
"Mia!" I called out angrily. "Just get anything! I don't care what it is!" An instant later she dashed into the room clutching two folded bath towels to her chest.
"Sorry," she panted. "There weren't any dirty ones."
"It's all right. Just help me get this up."
Leaving the first towel folded, I pressed down on the stain. Mia added her two smaller hands to the towel.
"Is it gonna be okay?" she asked worriedly. She knew I hated stains on the carpet.
"It'll be just fine," I assured her. Turning my head, I called to the phone "I'll be with you in a moment, Mom! We're having a soda emergency here!"
Mia giggled, and I laughed right alongside her.
Being Diet Coke, there was no sticky residue to collect dirt, and the stain was virtually the same color as the carpeting. I'd let it dry and tomorrow evening attack the area with Resolve.
"That OK? Mia asked.
Liquid had spread into a shallow table leg footprint. Though it sat inconveniently in the way--dangerously so, if you valued your shinbones--I left the end table where it was. It was a decision I'd come to regret--deeply.
Snatching up the phone, I shooed Mia away then spent the next half hour gabbing and gossiping with the most notorious busybody in Ft. Lauderdale.
At nine o'clock, there was still no sigh of Dr. Singh. I clapped my hands together and announced that it was time for all small children to go to bed.
"But Mom!" Mia protested stridently. "It's only nine o'clock!"
"And it's only a school night," I pointed out. "Which means that Max goes out one more time for the evening and then you go to bed."
Grumbling fitfully about the injustices in her life, Mia hauled Max to his feet and accompanied him to the back door while I turned off the TV and the lights, and went upstairs to lay out her pajamas and turn down the covers on her bed. Out back, I could hear Max barking and Mia yodeling at him. It made me grin. A dog, even a small one, would be good for my little girl.
While Max sat obediently at the foot of the bed, I peeled Mia's top off over her head and helped her out of her training bra. She really didn't need the damned thing, but she insisted, and wearing one made her happy, so I was happy along with her. When she shinnied out of her panties, I turned away, preserving her modesty.
"Can Maxie sleep with me?" she asked.
I almost said yes, but knew I'd find her still awake at eleven o'clock. "Absolutely not," I scolded, softening it with a grin and a kiss on the forehead. "Maxie will stay with me in my bedroom until Dr. Singh decides to show up."
Pouting, but resigned to the idea, Mia said: "How come he's so late?"
"I have no idea," I admitted, tucking her in and pulling the covers under her chin.
"Can I sleep with the light on?" she pleaded, her voice retreating two octaves in pitch to that of a six-year old.
"Absolutely not," I said, kissing her on the forehead again. "There's no scaredycats in this house."
She pouted, sticking out her lower lip, which I pinched between my thumb and forefinger, which only made her pout more.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," I said.
"Goodnight," she grumbled, turning onto her right side away from me. I sighed, wondering if letting Max stay in the room with her wasn't such a bad idea after all. In retrospect, I wish I had let him.
By ten-thirty I was intensely irritated. Twice in the past fifteen minutes I had peeked out the window blind, each time discovering the house next door dark and no car in the driveway. I had not yet changed my clothes and was disgruntled to be sitting on the bed still clothed in my stupid black slacks and white blouse.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered. I thought momentarily about just shooing Max out of the house, or tying him to a tree in Dr. Singh's yard, but knew what kind of outrage that would spark in my ten year old in the morning. Grumbling, I began to undo the buttons on my blouse. I could just as easily meet Dr. Singh in my dressing gown.
Naked, I discovered Max no longer sitting at the foot of my bed, but standing right before me. I blinked, taken by surprised.
"What? You like the looks of me naked?" I teased.
At thirty-four, I was too broad across the hips and a teensy bit thick through the middle. My weight was one hundred and twenty-six pounds, carried on a 5'6" tall frame. My breasts were only average in size, but so far showed no sign of sag. Neither, thankfully, did my behind. Striking a pose, I batted my eyes and made an exaggeratedly feminine gesture with my right hand. To my horror, Max raised his snout and sniffed me.
"Stop that!" I croaked, smacking him sharply on the nose and stepping back. To my horror, I realized that I had backed myself into the corner between the closet door and that of the bathroom, my legs coming into sudden contact with the top edge of the wicker hamper. I sat down hard, to keep from falling down. My spread legs and exposed labia were an open invitation.
"Oh!" I gasped, shuddering. Max had licked me between the legs, his long, coarse tongue lapping my entire length, halfway to my belly button. I was clean-shaven, completely bare, unprotected. I shuddered again violently and snapped my legs firmly closed.
"You get out of here," I ordered harshly. I pushed against his snout, but he simply returned to sniffing the air with his upturned nose and whined quietly. "What has your master been teaching you, anyway?" I said angrily. I tried to move and was thwarted when Max jammed his snout between my thighs, trying to force them open again. "Will you stop that?" I hissed, smacking him a third time. His only reaction was to continue sniffing.
The situation grew more ridiculous when I realized a standoff had developed. Max had no intention of letting me get by; I had no intention of opening my legs for him. I shuddered, imagining what Mia would think of this were she to walk in. It occurred to me suddenly that this scenario could very well take place should the errant Dr. Singh happen to ring my doorbell and I couldn't go downstairs to answer it. The possibility--the certainty--of it gave me a stab of panic. I moaned, knowing what I had to do.
"Please don't make me do this," I whispered miserably. Even as I said it, I inched my knees apart in preparation of being attacked. A pitiful mewling sound built in my throat as I allowed Max to nudge my thighs apart. Grimacing, I closed my eyes and turned my head away, baring my teeth as first his cold nose, and then his hot tongue made contact. The first lick up my delicate flesh brought an involuntary gasp and a violent shudder. The second extracted a moan that made me want to burst into tears from the shear misery of it. Each lap of his tongue brought an answering moan, a violent spasm down my back, and an involuntary wrenching closed of my thighs. Within ten seconds he had me ready to scream in frustration.
And then suddenly he stopped. Trembling feverishly, I looked down and discovered Max sitting back on his haunches, tongue lolling from his lower jaw, panting mechanically. He coughed once in that peculiar way dogs cough, then looked around as though expecting to find someone else in the room. If the episode had caused him any physical reaction, I saw no sign of it. He might as well have been licking my hand as my bare genitals. He showed no signs of even being sexually aroused--for which, of course, I was supremely grateful.
Rising awkwardly to my feet, I shuffled sideways around him and away. He showed no more interest in me now than he had when I was completely dressed. Half terrified-half-hysterical, I snatched my dressing gown off the bed and hurriedly shrugged it on. I cinched the belt as tightly around my waist as I could stand, and then pulled the lower half into a far-overlapping position with one hand, clutched the neckline closed with the other. All the while, Max took in my actions with an over-the-shoulder glance, seeming almost disinterested. Finally he spun around to face the room rather than the corner. Even this non-threatening movement made me nearly jump out of my skin. Trembling, afraid to move, I simply stood there and watched.
My heart lurched and I choked out a high-pitched squeak. I whipped my head around to find a sleepy-eyed Mia standing in my bedroom doorway. Oh, Dear God, I thought, as nausea washed over me in a tidal wave. Knees failing, I collapsed onto the edge of the bed to keep from falling.
One minute! Sixty seconds! That's all that stood between my daughter rubbing her eyes tiredly in my doorway and discovering her mommy being sodomized by a dog. The breath rushed out of me as though punched out by a fist. Consciousness played touch and go with a faint; it was touch and go for a moment, which state of mind would win out: Panic or hysteria.
Finally, control of my lungs returned and with the return of oxygen the faintness retreated. Thank you, God, I thought shakily. You have my Sunday mornings for the rest of my life.
Gathering my faculties, I smiled weakly at Mia and, rising from the bed on rubbery legs, shuffled over to her in the doorway.
"What are you doing up?" I inquired in a cracking voice.
Still rubbing her eyes, she looked up at me, concern obvious in her expression. "I thought I heard something," she said, stifling a yawn. "I thought maybe it was Dr. Singh coming to get Max."
Wobbly, I crossed the room and shifted two of the window slats to peer out. No lights, no car in the driveway. Looking at the bedside cock, I was both surprised and chagrined to see that it was only 10:38 PM. I had thought for certain it was later. The ordeal with Max and his tongue had seemed to last hours.
"No Dr. Singh," I sighed. Where was the bastard, anyway? How dare he leave me alone with this renegade dog, this vicious monster? I shuddered, realizing that I was not alone at all, that another human female lay in danger from this beast. In a panic again, I flew over to where Mia stood, grasped her by the shoulders and bustled her down the hallway to her room.
"Mommy!" she complained. "That hurts!"
I eased my grip and tried to unclench the bunched muscles in my shoulders. Guiding Mia to the bed, I hustled her beneath the sheets and yanked them up to her chin, all the while, she looking at me worriedly.
"Mommy, something is wrong," she said anxiously
"Nothing is wrong," I lied. "You just need to go to sleep right now, sweetie." I tucked the covers in tightly around her, kissed her forehead and nose. Then I kissed both of her precious cheeks, her dimpled chin, the slight widows peak at the top of her forehead. Praise God, she had not woken up a minute earlier.
Disgruntled, but too tired to stay awake, Mia rolled over onto her left side and snuggled up to me. What I wanted was to lie down beside her and envelop her small body in my protective arms, to whisper into her hair reassurances I didn't believe in, shelter her from any danger this world--or this house--might present her. But knowing what sat on its haunches in my room twelve feet away, knowing that any moment that animal could decide to come investigate, discover what other treasures might be hidden away, got me up and off that bed in a heartbeat.
"Mommy?" Mia complained thickly. She was 99% asleep; I rubbed her shoulder until I sensed her slip into her own special dreamland. A dreamland free of dogs, hopefully, and any other kind of peril.
On tiptoes, I sneaked across to the door and closed it quietly behind me. Then, taking a deep breath first, I clenched my hands and marched up the hall to my bedroom and went through the doorway. This bugger was not staying in this house one moment longer.
"Get your--!" I broke off as I realized Max was no longer sitting at the foot of my bed. A quick glance told me he was nowhere in the room that I could see, but I instinctively checked the other side of the bed, beneath the bed, the inside of the closet and inside the bathroom, even yanking back the shower curtain to expose the tub. No dog. No Max anywhere.
In sudden panic, I flew out of my room and down the hall and threw open the door to Mia's bedroom. Panting, on the verge of either hyperventilation or hysteria, I don't know which, I searched frantically in the darkness for a large black shape, then chanced turning on the overhead light when I saw nothing unfamiliar. Though Mia flinched and buried her eyes beneath the covers, she didn't wake up. Crosing to the bed, I dropped to my knees and searched quickly for a malingerer waiting beneath, then went over and opened the closet door and looked inside. There was nothing but a pile of dirty clothes on the floor--she'd hear about that little faux pas in the morning—so I let out a deep breath and went back to the bedroom door, kissing Mia on the forehead as I went. For the second time in two minutes, I closed the door safely behind me and went in search of the dog.
He was nowhere to be found. I searched the entire upstairs, then descended to the main level and searched everywhere there as well. I was becoming really frustrated, beginning to imagine the dog somehow alone in the bedroom upstairs with Mia after all, the conviction growing steadily with every futile step I took. I was just about to fly back upstairs when I heard a scratching noise coming from the kitchen. I found him in the connecting mudroom, determinedly pawing the bottom of the door with his huge right paw, whining anxiously.
"I'll be only to happy to let you out," I muttered bitterly. Stomping into the room, involuntarily clutching the front of my gown and walking with my thighs scraping together, I twisted the deadlock sharply to the left, flipped back the slide lock, opened the door and yanked it open for him. "Go!" I ordered, pushing open the screen door.
He looked outside uncertainly, then glanced uncertainly up at me, then eyed the darkness outside again.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" I asked bitingly. "Too bad. You aren't staying in here." To my surprise, he sneezed/coughed violently, shook his head to clear it and trotted back down the mudroom into the kitchen door.
"Hey!" I objected. Standing there a moment, holding the screen door uselessly open, I blinked my eyes and then stomped off after him, leaving the back door standing wide open. I intended that dog out of this house within the next ten seconds; I wanted no locks getting in my way. Undeniably, this was the worst mistake of my life.
"Get you ass back out in this room," I growled, stopping in the doorway with fists planted on my hips. He wasn't there. Fuming now, I marched from the kitchen into the dining room, discovered that room empty as well, and continued my search out in the living room.
"God damn it!" I muttered angrily. He was not in the kitchen, the dining room or the living room; the door to the basement was closed, which left only one place left for him to go. Scowling mightily, I headed for the stairs, having no idea that he was right there with me until I reached the end of the couch and he darted forward right between my legs. I pitched forward with a startled shriek, managed to get my hands out before me but not in time to keep from bashing my forehead on the edge of the out-of-place, disastrously placed, end table. A brief but intense flash of light, a searing pain at my scalp line, and then I was on my hands and knees, groggily shaking my head back and forth, trying unsuccessfully to get it clear.
"What the fuck?" I remember getting out in feeble protestation, and then the floor came up to hit my face and I was gone.
"Na-ugh," I grunted. Forcing my eyes open, left eye first, followed by the right eye, I tried to make them focus while at the same time tried to make sense of the carpet under my cheek. I could not fathom why my backside felt wet, nor why the back of my dressing gown seemed to be clumped in a pile at the small of my back. Bleary-eyed, I tried lifting my head to investigate. Max licked my face.
"Oh, yuck, no! Don't you do that!" I protested, spitting disgustedly. He licked me again from chin to my hairline, a long slobbery lick that made me cringe away, appalled. It dawned on me slowly why the back of my gown was out of place and my rear end appallingly wet.
"Oh, please, no!" I groaned. "Tell me you didn't." An experimental shifting of my legs told me they were splayed invitingly. No wonder the skin of my butt cheeks and labia tingled. Max had been at me.
Groaning, I forced my legs closed and attempted to kneel. My shaky arms and legs were having none of that. I looked at my watch and was horrified to discover the hands set at five minutes past twelve. I had lost an hour. More than an hour. The knowledge of what Max had been doing to me during that hour made me want to shrink to the size of a box turtle and draw myself into my shell.
"Noooo," I groaned miserably. But Max wasn't finished with me yet.
Even as I tried to struggle off the floor, Max excitedly sniffed my face, my shoulder and right flank, my right hip, then sneaked cunningly between my legs as my rear end presented itself as a target. I mewled frightenedly and tried crawling away on my elbows and knees, getting no more than two feet before bumping my head hard on the side of the end table. Compounding matters, I swung my head right instead of left and found myself trying to crawl under the end table instead of around it. Max, meantime, took advantage of my confusion and muddle-headedness to thoroughly assault my backside. Trapped momentarily as I was, he took the opportunity to lick me from clitoris to the very top of my butt cheeks, his rough tongue maddeningly wet, hot and insistent. Each swipe penetrated to some depth between my spread lips, across and into the mouth of my vagina, over the clenched bud of my anus, and the entire valley between my butt cheeks. This went on and on as I struggled to extricate myself from the tight space between the table legs; each backward thrust counteracted by a butt-forward from the dog's head, shoulders or snout. Max literally had me trapped head and shoulders under the end table.
"Stop it" I wailed softly. I could not afford to wake my daughter, but neither could I afford to stay here and let this dog do whatever it felt like with me. Equally alarming was the realization that the assault on my genitals and backside had begun having a horrifying effect: No longer was I squirming and shaking my ass simply from horror and anxiety. Max was triggering a sexual response almost as powerful as the ones my husband and various boyfriends triggered working my backside. Worse, the roughness of his tongue, the sheer size, the maddening insistence of it, the acreage covered with each swipe was beginning to make me very, very horrifyingly aroused. I found that I was no longer fighting as hard to escape from my prison as I had been.
No! I told myself. This isn't happening!
But the more Max licked, the more energetic he became, the more forcefully I responded, until finally my runaway flood of hormones rested control of my rear end away from me and offered it to Max, which he gladly accepted. Suddenly, instead of trying to back out of the end table I was clutching the legs tightly with both hands, banging my forehead on the veneered bottom as I fought back furiously against his maddening tongue, becoming more maddened by the instant. An orgasm ignited and a soft but furiously pitched ululation escaped my throat, growing louder and more insistent with the ferocity of my orgasm. I found myself not simply twisting and jerking my ass, but bucking it up and down and trusting back against his tongue and snout so aggressively that he growled, nipped me on the right buttock, and told me I was out of control.
Being growled at and chastised did nothing but intensify my already screaming orgasm. I began to rhythmically bang my forehead on the bottom of the end table to keep myself from moaning hysterically. As crazed as I was, I wanted more. I wanted Max off all fours atop me with his forepaws wrapping my middle and something hot and thick and slimy in my vagina. I wanted him trusting inside me, pounding so hard that my shoulders would bruise purple and black from the wooden legs I wanted my vagina slammed so hard I wouldn't walk for two days, the pain to be excruciating, and the results wretchedly sloppy. I wanted my cunt filled to overflowing with dog cum ... and I wanted to drink it.
My insides burst into million-degree heat like an exploding star. I banged forward convulsively as the orgasm cramped every muscle in my already cramping midsection. I gasped, stifling a wail sure to wake neighbors as far as ten blocks away. I bit down hard on the meaty part of my right thumb, a groaning sound like timbers in a collapsing coal mine rumbling in my chest, a brilliant white starburst of light exploding against my eyelids. Never in my life had I ignited in ecstasy like this; never had I wanted to shriek until my vocal cords tore, never had I wanted anyone, much less a species other than my own to so totally and completely own me. A moment later, I was mounted and fucked.
Some time later, I lay panting on the floor, collapsed as thoroughly as the 695 bridge. Saliva leaked onto the carpet; every muscle was useless. Max had disengaged from me finally, and was alternately licking my thoroughly disgusting backside, and his own swollen penis.
"Unngggg," I moaned. Lifting his head, Max sniffed at me a moment, then went back to licking himself.