Chapter 2

Carol dressed in a somewhat numbed state, slipping on a white skirt and pullover, still refusing to believe that it had happened the way it had! She brushed her long ash-blonde tresses more than usual, studying her own face in the vanity mirror as if trying to detect some hidden demon. Sultan had trotted off after his obscene seduction, then returned to sit beside her as devotedly as ever. She petted him, but didn't speak. God, how could she? The precious darling... and he'd been so beautiful... ! But never before had he even done the ordinary animal things, such as curiously sniffing up between her thighs, or climbing onto her leg in the usual ruttish fashion.

Why now? Why had this happened? Carol had been asking herself that question ever since their forbidden performance ended and her wits had slowly returned. And above everything, she didn't like the answer her still unsteady mind kept coming up with. There had never been anything like this, not even an approach, before... before she'd started leaving the dog with Peggy! God, was it possible? She just couldn't believe it... but where else had he suddenly gotten such a lustful education?

The young divorcee found herself mentally picturing the attractive Peggy White in her mind, but she was visualizing her as never before. Instead, she was inwardly calculating the older brunette's curvaceousness, her sultry face, the shape of her voluptuously up-thrust breasts and full rounded hips... Lord! What in God's name had suddenly come over her, anyway... to be thinking along these lines? She pushed back her vanity stool and jerked upright to her feet. She needed air, or something to clear her head!

"Come on, Sully... l think we could both use a good walk in this sunshine," Carol said, leading the way to the kitchen where she kept his leash. "I thought I was tired... but I guess I wasn't tired enough," she added in a soft tone to herself, though she couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling of release her formerly tense young body was enjoying. And in truth, she wasn't really ashamed for having let him lick her pussy, not really, as she might have been had a man done it, but admittedly she would have been at least red-faced had she and Sultan been discovered in the middle of their obscene little escapade.

Carol tried to shake from her mind the lewd image of Peggy White "training" her dog, but she couldn't do it. On the street with Sultan walking valiantly beside her, her brain continued to form lurid mental scenes of the pretty brunette nakedly seducing her handsome pet... showing and teaching him how to... Oh God! Those lewd imaginings were sensuously stirring her even as her anger mounted. Of course, she could never prove such a thing, nor would she even hint at it to the super's wife, but her mind was made up. Sultan had stayed his last day in the White's apartment. She hardly knew what she was going to do with him while she job- hunted, but she had the weekend to decide on something.

Unafraid with the massive German shepherd at her side, and hardly aware of the ogling and shifty pairs of eyes, the suggestive whistles, or under-the-breath propositions directed at her from passing and loitering characters, the appealing young blonde girl made her way toward the open park, which was the last remaining thing of beauty to her in the Westland area. At least once a day she had tried to walk Sultan there, but unfortunately she didn't dare let him off the leash to romp a little; it just wasn't safe around there for a girl without obvious protection. Anyway, when she could, she allowed the dog a couple of hours of freedom in the walled backyard of the apartment building where he could get some measure of exercise.

For a while, Carol strolled along the cinder paths, waiting while Sultan sniffed and examined certain poles, bushes, and trees, until finally they found an empty bench in the shade and she sat down. Sultan saw them first, the other harnessed German shepherd immediately drawing his attention. The dark glasses and type of leash made Carol aware of the young man's blindness. They moved along the cinder path toward where she sat with Sultan on the ground beside her, the skilled seeing-eye dog carefully guiding its master.

He was a handsome man, Carol thought as they drew closer-- tall, with broad shoulders and proud bearings. His hair was dark and waved, carefully groomed, and his neat, casual dress stylishly simple. She guessed him to be somewhere in his early thirties and found herself wondering how he had lost his sight... or had he been born that way?

Sultan whimpered as the other German shepherd drew closer, while totally ignoring his existence. Carol saw then that the dedicated animal was female and demanded Sultan behave himself...

"What is it, Queenie? Is our bench gone?" Carol heard the young man question when his animal-guide seemed reluctant to let him move toward the seat.

Carol spoke, then, "I think it's because we're here... my dog and I," she said, hardly knowing how to put it.

"Oh... I'm sorry," he said, turning toward her voice and smiling. "Usually it's empty this time of day. Excuse us..."

"There's plenty of room," Carol quickly replied, "if you'd care to join us?"

"Thanks... we will," he accepted, still smiling. With the limited hand movements of a man adjusted to his affliction, he confidently seated himself, his dog waiting and watching before lying down at his feet. "I couldn't understand it at first, Queenie's not wanting to lead me over here," he said. "But when you mentioned your dog I knew. They're trained to avoid other animals."

"I see," Carol said. "Y-Your Queenie, she's a beautiful dog."

"Yes... my eyes, companion, and protection," he said, with a certain bitterness accenting the last word. "Afraid I'd be lost without her."

"I believe I understand what you mean," Carol replied. "I know I'd be lost without Sultan."

"Sultan... that's an impressive name. What breed is he?"

"German shepherd, like Queenie... and about the same age, I'd say. He's three."

"Well, you're a pretty fair judge of dogs, Miss... ?"

"Dorsett... Carol Dorsett."

"Mark Cannon," he replied. "As I was saying, you seem to know dogs, Miss Dorsett. Queenie's almost three, but I've had her for only a year. They have to be fairly mature before they start training them, and that takes quite a while, as well as teaching the person they're going to be seeing for," he smiled. "Do you live in this area?"

"A couple of blocks from here. We have a small apartment on Fellows Street," she answered with a little smile of her own, the young man's warmth and good looks giving her a pleasant uplift. She wondered if he was married.

"Really? I live on Fellows too, number 1322," he said. "What's your address?"

"1315. We've only been here a week."

"Well, we're neighbors! I'm almost directly across the way from you!" Mark Cannon informed, inwardly weighing what might be a stroke of luck. Beyond that, she had a very pleasing voice, young and gentle, not the hard, expected type that inhabited this grubby area. Down on her luck, maybe... or perhaps, just a smoother operating whore. Whatever she was made little difference for his purposes... if she was cooperative... and if he could trust her. That could take time to determine... maybe too much time... Christ, if he could only see her... !

"It's not a very nice neighborhood, is it, Mr. Cannon," Carol said.

He grinned. "Not exactly the place where I'd let my wife walk the streets unescorted... if I had one. You said you've only been here a week. You mean in Westland, or Los Angeles?"

"Both. I'm from San Francisco. I rented the apartment sight unseen from a newspaper ad, never dreaming that the Westland section could be like this," Carol replied, simultaneously clocking in her mind the fact that he was not married. "It fit my budget... but as soon as I'm lucky enough to find a job, I intend to move. Like you said, I wouldn't dare walk these streets without Sultan beside me."

Hearing his name mentioned, the big animal looked up toward his mistress, then back to the female of his own kind who was completely ignoring him. If only he dared move closer and explore the smell of her, but instinctively he knew that for some reason this would not he right. There was something different about her which he could not understand, and again he whined in perplexity.

"Shhh, Sultan," Carol ordered, well aware of his interest and the natural reasons behind it. "I'm afraid you'll have to resign yourself to being snubbed. The young lady isn't interested in your attentions..."

"Does he want to get acquainted?" Mark asked. "It's perfectly okay, except Queenie won't respond unless I tell her she can. Up, Queenie! Come here, Sultan! Come on, boy! Come over here and meet my friend. That's a boy..." he said, Carol watching as he took both animals' heads and brought their noses together, Queenie immediately wagging her tail in reception.

Fascinated, the young divorcee watched Mark Cannon's strong, gentle hands manipulate the two massive dogs with obvious, inbred ability, until the usual animal-type exploration of intimate parts began and Carol sensed a tiny twinge of ridiculous jealousy ripple through her.