Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

“You remember that little matter I brought up last night?” His voice was wary, as though he were afraid I'd explode all over the place.

“It's not easy to forget.”

“Did you talk it over with Amy?”

“I told her what you had on your mind. She's not too bright about that sort of fooling around, you know.” This was a test line I'd tossed out to see if he bit on it. He might know better than I how much Amy had fooled around. But he didn't tumble and I felt better, still hoping that my wife had gone bad only in the past twenty-four hours.

“What's your decision?”

Clearing my throat, I took on a senatorial tone. “We are not interested in your proposal at this time.”

“Then you're not closing the door altogether.”

“Well, that remains to be seen.” I wasn't being as strong as I'd sounded in my earlier morality lecture to Amy. “The situation is in doubt.”

His sigh came over the wires. “All right, partner, but you know where we are. Christ, that Alice keeps after me to find her some fresh meat. Can you beat that? The woman thinks I'm impotent and she rubs it in by wanting me to fix her up with our friends. A bitter pill, I can tell you.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you impotent?”

“Hell, no. Just because I can't pop my rocks every-time she'd like, she thinks I'm losing my steam. It's just too many years with the same old pair of legs, if you get my point. She's impotent enough around me, as far as that goes. We both need something new. Outside experience.”

“Good luck.”

“But not with you.”

“Not at this time.”

His sigh came just before he hung up and I stared at the instrument for several minutes. Was I getting hooked on sex outside the home? Why didn't I flatly tell him no, instead of horsing around with words? Not only was I interested in sexing it up with a flying bomb like Trudy, but now I was seriously considering trade-sies with Sam and Alice. Jesus, the next thing we knew I'd be propositioning the meter maids around the office downtown.

Come to think of it, there was one sergeant whose ass stuck out real fine when she was on the saddle of her motor bike, Shaking my head, I tossed my work aside and left the desk. Concentration was impossible with such erotic thoughts buzzing around in my head.

That afternoon we climbed into our bathing suits and settled around the pool, reading, having a drink, nibbling on something light and not fattening. I kept stealing glances over the top of my book at Amy, who was looking tremendous in a red bikini.

The thing set off her skin in spectacular fashion, accenting her golden tones and bringing out a chestnut sheen in her hair. She was lying on her stomach on the warm concrete, reading a woman's magazine, her feet idly dangling above her thighs, swaying back and forth. I could see her head-on, looking down into her bra, seeing the deep division between her breasts and the angle that accented the curve of her bottom.

It was quite a sight.

“You're looking at me.”

“You bet your sweet one I am,” I said, my voice gruff. “In that outfit you offer the best excuse I know for not playing around with anyone else.”

“You're loaded too, partner.” She pointed.

I looked down at my crotch, where things had been happening without my knowing. I'd come back to life, ready for more action, my snake uncoiled and pushing against my suit so that I carried a full sack of marbles in plain view.

“I'll be damned. It must have been the vitamins in that hearty breakfast,” I exclaimed.

“Whatever it was, it's catching.”

“You feel it, too?”

She curved her lips, her dazzling teeth breaking into view in the sunlight. “I think we can keep each other happy without resorting to outside agitators, don't you?”

I got up and hobbled to her side, dropping to my knees and running my hands over her back, masseur fashion. “You bet we can, honey, starting right now.”

“Go, brother. Go, sister. Everybody go.”

Working slowly, I kneaded her back, loving the feel of the sun-baked skin. It had a clean yet slightly oily scent and I could feel it loosen as her muscles relaxed under my insistent fingertips. I did a lazy and thorough job, working from her neck to the low-slung band of her bikini, not missing a muscle or a rib all the way.

“You're an expert.”

“Ah, so you've relaxed.”

“Uh huh,” she said lazily, her resting on her arms. “Relaxed but getting up tight in some ways. You know what I'm talking about, tiger.”

“Admit you're hot.”

“All right. I'm hot.”

“You do want to do it with me.”

“As Mr. Hemingway would say, I wish to lie with you, Roberto.”

“That's lay, not lie, rabbit.”

“Don't start getting smutty about it,” she snapped.

“He called her rabbit, I didn't.”

She giggled. “Bunnies do have fun, I guess.”

“Come on, roll over and I'll show you what real fun is all about.”

Her head rolled from side to side on her arms. “No, I'm a cold concrete statue and you've got to bring me to life.”

“That's a kid's game.”

“So? We're both under thirty.”

“Statues are supposed to stand up straight.”

“I'm a reclining statue. Take me as you find me, master.”

I wanted to take her and I knew it would be a sound thing if we could make love right away. It would help to turn off our memories of the night before and those two juvenile delinquents. If we were really finished with sampling sweets outside the family circle, it was time to prove it.

Again I kneaded her back, unsnapping the band of her bra as I did so and leaning hard against her shoulder blades. She took my weight easily, grunting in satisfaction and making other small noises that were hinting at a different kind of euphoria.

My hands drifted down her spine, counting the row of vertebrae one by one. With each little twist of my knuckle there was a twitching in her feet and I didn't know if I was manipulating her nervous system or if she were merely excited by my touch.

I reached the waist and went lower, out over the first curve of her buttocks until I approached the band of her bikini. Lord, but those things rode low, revealing acres of beautiful flesh in the process.

“You got a good butt, kid.”

“Your English is terrible,” she complained, but I knew she was eating it up. She loved it when I told her about herself. “Tell me about myself.”

“You've got a duff that could move nations, open frontiers and shake the moon from its orbit, if you shifted your pratt in the right way. Your waist is as thin as a beggar's wallet. Your knockers are like barrage balloons, always there, always ready, a safe haven for those in need of a place to hide and keep warm.”

“No. They're for you only.”

“Good. I was testing you.”

“No more talk.”

“All right.” I began to work at the knot at her hip, loosening her bottom garment so that my sea nymph could parade for me as she sometimes did. I had almost worked the first knot loose when the ringing came from the kitchen.

“It's the phone,” she wailed.

“Screw the phone.”

“It might be important.”

I sighed, blinking, shaking my head sadly. “All right. Go take the message and I'll mix us fresh drinks, okay?”

She sprang up, catching her bra and resnapping it. As she hurried inside she tugged at the knot on her hip so that her pants wouldn't fall away completely.

I followed slowly, knowing that the phone was bad news. We'd had our chance to be together again and now it was blown.

I wandered into the kitchen while she was in the corner, standing by the wall phone, the receiver tucked under her hair. Stopping, I watched her watching me as she spoke.