Chapter 6

Friday afternoon, August 24th {Bob}

Obviously my days of trying to find Miss Perfect at the grocery store were over. I was well known there by now, and was pretty sure that whenever I entered the place I’d get more help than the Governor would have, had he showed up to do a little shopping.

I thought about parking next door and watching people come and go into the parking lot, using binoculars to look for a woman with a big dog in the car. The store had a lot of Police traffic in and out, though. It was like they were at orange alert on the Homeland Security scale and I decided that, innocent or not, I had better things to do than get a cell put on standby for me at the County Jail.

It was while I was taking Bandit for a walk that I got another one of those bolts out of the blue. She had to walk her dog too! All I had to do was hang around places where people walked their dogs, and look for her there!

There were only about a couple of hundred things about that idea that made it stupid. A hundred and seventy or so of them were all the different places a person can walk a dog in a city of sixty thousand. And then there was the possibility that she lived in a house with a back yard, where the dog could frisk and poop at will, not necessarily in that order. And, of course, there is the fact that dog-walking doesn’t exactly take up hours of each day and that, even if she did take her dog out and walk him, it might take a whopping five minutes. Meanwhile I could be across town, watching ten other dogs poop. And then, of course, there was the sheer number of women walking dogs, many of them big dogs. In the three hours I sat on the bench in the park, I must have seen thirty women with big dogs.

I finally thought of all those things when Bandit, tired of being on a leash and being forced to sit beside me instead of playing with all those other dogs that were frisking and pooping all around him, bit me on the calf. It was a playful bite, which meant the bleeding stopped in five minutes or so, but I began to see the difficulties inherent in pursuing plan D.

To put the icing on the cake, so to speak, I had kept Bandit out so long, that when I finally limped back in the house with him, he had to go again. I didn’t notice, of course, as he sat beside the door. He ended up pooping on the welcome mat.

“Bad dog!” I growled, as I picked up his gift to me.

He sat there, wagging his tail and grinning. He barked at me once. It was that special bark he has, that I just know means “Idiot!” or maybe “Loser!” in dog language.

Friday morning, August 24th [Chris]

I mentioned my date at the AA meeting on Friday morning and the men wanted to know where I would be. They wanted to be there inconspicuously to make sure I was safe. Trying to imagine just how inconspicuous fifteen older gentlemen could be, following me all over town, I assured them I would be safe. I explained that the man I was going out with was a police officer. When they scoffed at how naive I was being, I told them he was Grandma approved and they decided I would be safe enough, but I had to promise to call Ed if I ended up needing rescuing, so they could all come on the run.

To say I was a nervous wreck before James arrived to pick me up that evening is an understatement. I could have been declared a disaster area. Everything I touched either wanted to break, spill or go flying out of my hands. Lady decided to stay as far away from me as possible, lying in her chair in the kitchen, which was a good thing. She would have gotten sprayed with the shower head, which somehow managed to be aiming toward the door of the shower when I turned it on.

Of course, my hair decided to do everything but what I wanted, and I finally just pulled it back on the sides with combs and let my bangs do whatever the heck they wanted, which meant they curled under on one side and on the other, curled in all directions.

The phone rang half a million times during all this fun, my sisters, Grandma and Dad giving me enough advice to fill a book, which I was considering writing -- Family Advice on Dating: 101 Things to Do if He’s a Dud and 200 Things Not to Do so You Get Asked Out a Second Time. Thus, I only had time to change clothes five times.

Yeah, I know I bought the red blouse, but I wasn’t happy when I put it on. Then I wasn’t happy with the black dress, or the blue silk skirt with matching blouse, or the white dress with the spaghetti straps, or the fluorescent pink rhinestone dress Grandma had insisted on buying me one day when we were out shopping.

When James called to let me know he was five minutes away, I grabbed the red blouse and put it on with a black silky-looking flowing skirt that came to my calves and shoved my silk-stocking-clad feet into my red one inch pumps.

I was still arguing with Lady over whether or not to wear the top button undone on the blouse when the door bell rang. She won because, as I hurried to the door, all the oxygen in my brain vanished and I forgot to fasten the button.

James was obviously in agreement with Lady on the button debate. As we made our way through dinner at Heaven’s Gate, one of the swankiest places in town, he kept glancing at my cleavage, which usually irritates me no end when I’m having conversations with guys. James, though, could do whatever the hell he pleased. Part of my mind gave him a point on the score card for that.

And miracle of miracles, he got me to dance with him. I have three left feet and avoid any sort of dancing requiring any sort of style, but I let him pull me out on the floor and hold me close. I felt his cock pressing against me through his suit pants and still somehow managed not to permanently damage him. I honestly don’t think he would have cared if I’d broken his leg; and I doubt I would have noticed if I had.

Afterwards we went putt-putt golfing, where we able to help each other swing the putter. Our scores were gosh awful, but the intimacy was priceless -- as was the kiss he gave me when we got back to the house and were standing on my front porch. He got another point on his score card for that.

Our tongues locked together in a dual, and his hands rubbed up and my back as his cock pressed into me, causing my pussy juices once again to flow down my thighs, as they’d been doing all evening.

When we came up for air, he gasped, “Meet me for breakfast in the park?”

Lady woofed from the other side of the door and I giggled and said, “It’s unanimous.”

After kissing me again, for ten minutes rather than an hour, he opened my glass door and I unlocked the wooden door. The second it was open, Lady bounded out and insisted on attention from the both of us.

It was during this time I remembered to ask about the incident in the parking lot the day before. I was so bumfuzzled when he’d called I’d forgotten to ask. He told me he’d gotten a call about some guy trying to steal cars, but he’d actually been a harmless pain in the ass who, in James’ opinion, needed a keeper. Remembering, how he’d been about the olives, I thought he could use a bit of training, myself.

When Lady and I finally got in bed, I yawned and said, “I’m still not sure if James is my toad, but it’s gonna’ be worth it, even if he ain’t.”

She woofed her agreement.

Monday morning, August 27th {Bob}

Plans B, C and D having not worked out well at all, I tried to think up Plan E. I was so besotted with this mystery woman that I totally screwed up the drawing I was supposed to be putting the final touches on at work. It was supposed to be a scale drawing, and it was off an entire thirty-secondth of an inch when I got done! When you can’t pay attention enough to notice a thirty-secondth of an inch in what’s supposed to be a twenty-four and seven sixty-fourths inch line on a simple piece of paper, you’ve got it bad, my friend.

I had to find this woman soon or I was going to have a criminal record and be unemployed.

Not that my employer would notice those extra two sixty-fourths of an inch on the drawing, not to mention the contractor, who would probably build the wall an entire quarter inch too long or short. But I noticed, and it stung, I’m telling you.

But I couldn’t get her out of my mind. All I could think about was that chocolate sauce, smeared on one of her stiff, pink (or brown) nipples, and my mouth just watered. Not that I knew what a nipple tasted like, of course ... but I knew what chocolate sauce tasted like and that was good enough. And I wanted to share a can of black olives with this woman in the worst way! I’d even bring one of my cans ... all six if she was as passionate as I thought she was going to be.

So, while I paid more attention to the rest of the drawing I had already screwed up, I tried to think of ways to find her that didn’t involve lurking anywhere that Mr. Nice Policeman might observe, and get all official on me again.

In the end, plan E didn’t come to me until I got home, and picked up the newspaper that Bandit was supposed to use when I wasn’t there and he just had to tinkle. The paper was pristine, of course, lying there by the yellow puddle of pee on the linoleum by the back door. Not for the first time, I gave serious consideration to getting a cat. At least cats know how to use a littler box.

I picked up the paper and took Bandit outside, where he pranced and humped my leg and barked and did everything in the world but pee or poop. I just knew he was saving it up for while I was fixing dinner and would leave me two presents somewhere in the house, so I would be delightfully surprised when I was walking around in my bare feet that night.

So, while I tried to wait him out, and shook him off my leg three or four times, I glanced at the paper. The classifieds page was what Bandit had decided not to soil.

WANTED: SWM seeks loving partner, race unimportant, 23-34 YO, to spend life with. Marriage negotiable.