The catalog session ran a little long and maybe it was Mia’s fault. Certainly she was more than a little nervous, working with Becca for the first time, Becca so tall and cool and hot, and the famous Gordo doing the shoot, and one in particular, the one which had Becca twining Mia’s body, Becca’s legs impossibly long, impossibly sleek, impossibly bare.

“A little more snarl, a little more smolder.” Gordo coaxed. “Come on, Mia, think steamy pussy, think pudgy clit. Becca winked, and Mia tried to snarl, and they got through it.

After the makeup was scrubbed off Mia, caught a cab to the airport and the last plane back East and a cab to Don’s apartment where she let herself in. Her big old teddy bear guy. Snoring ever so lightly. Like a little boy. Mia slipped under the sheets and nuzzled up against him. Cold at first, but soon warm.

Toward morning she felt him twitching. Maybe a bad dream. She was having a hard time sleeping, herself. “What is it?” she whispered. “What is it, honey?”

Don stirred, mumbled.

“You having a bad dream, honey?”

“God,” he said. “I don’t know. I guess. My golf bag was stolen.”

“Mmm,” Mia said. She stroked the hair on his belly.

“These fucking Canadians. I couldn’t believe it. The marshals let them go through. Because they needed to get done in time for the Packer game. Why would Canadians give a fuck about the Packer game?”

Mia soothed the soft snarls of hair that surrounded Don’s belly button.

“I was so mad,” Don said. “I went to complain. But I couldn’t find anybody. And when I got back, my golf bag was gone.”

“Poor baby,” Mia cooed. Don had such a nice cock. It was already starting to fatten in her hand.

“Fucking Canadians.”

Mia scooched down. Licked up the length of the stalk. “I don’t understand,” she said after a few test sucks. “Was this a dream, or was this for real?”

“Oh, do that, baby,” Don said.

Mia did it. And all the while, right up until the final jolts, all she could think about was what Gordo had said, Becca’s steamy pussy, her pudgy clit.