Gus Stevens: Love Me, Love My Dog

Amy's head fell back and her eyes fluttered. I was sweating by now, my lips moving as I silently urged her to find strength from somewhere.

Amy whispered to Buddy, “Kiss me, you fool.”

My heart fell into my shoe as his leering mouth closed over her wide-open lips. An instant later his head jerked back, teeth marks all across his upper and lower lips, and I realized that for once the cobra had won. He leaped away, his fingers rubbing his mouth.

“What… what was that all about?”

“Keep your hands off me for good, Buddy Pipp,” Amy intoned. “Now you know my husband means what he says and that he speaks for the Brady family.”

The young people withdrew and, much as I wanted to sock Buddy Pipp in the jaw and turn Trudy Pipp over my knee, Amy vetoed my wish. “No, they're aware that we're not fooling any more,” my wife was saying. “Let's at least part like human beings. There's been too much physical contact already.”

Buddy, perhaps in a mild shock, looked at his sister. “What now?”

Trudy made a face, shrugging. “I guess Aunt Charlotte had a good idea, after all. We might as well all go together.”

I frowned, suspicious. “Go where?”

She looked at me. “To Miami. My folks hit it big at the track down there and called Charlotte and us. They said there's plenty of money and action for everybody, if we want to come down and play in the Florida sun.”

My smile was grim. “I hope you have a nice trip.”

Trudy nodded, taking her brother's arm as they backed toward the door. Freeing the lock, Buddy went outside at once, apparently afraid I was still going to paste him one. The little blonde who had showed me so many new erotic games to play looked at me one last time, her smile quite sad.

“So long, Mr. Brady.”

“Goodbye, Trudy.”

“Thanks for the baby-sitting jobs.”

“You're welcome.”

She began to close the door, but that pretty blonde head showed one last time.

“Mr. Brady?”

“Yes, Trudy?”

“No matter what they say about old folks, you were real good.”

It was evening and we were sitting in the front room, Amy on my lap, half spraining my hardened penis, which was jabbing against her backside. It was performing like a beggar out in the cold, knocking to get in.

“Honey?”

“Hm?” I answered, reaching into her blouse and extracting an overwarm breast.

“About Alexander.”

I glared at the dog, who lay in the middle of the carpet on his side, dead to the world. “What about him?” I asked, suspicious as hell.

“I don't think we're going to need him any more.”

Letting my fingers and my rod press on, I looked her in the eye. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Dr. Duncan gave me the news in his office this afternoon. The tests were positive.”

“Stop talking in riddles.”

“We're going to have a family, as the heroines say in the women's novels. A human family, not canine.”

I suppose I was still walking around on the ceiling, hog-calling, clapping my hands, stamping my feet, kissing Amy and screaming at the dog when the telephone rang. I hugged Amy one last time, dancing her about the room, before going to answer the thing.

I don't know why I bothered, except that I wanted to tell whoever it was the news-even if it was a wrong number.

“Hi, partner,” Sam drawled and, for some reason, I decided not to blurt it out right away.

“Samuel, my boy, how's tricks?”

He hesitated. “She's all right. In fact, that's why I called. Alice was wondering if you two wanted to play some bridge tonight. You know, kind of get reacquainted.”

I laughed, feeling mad as a March hare. “What you really, mean, partner, is can Amy and I come over so you can throw the blocks to my wife while I diddle Alice, correct?”

“Well… I hate to hear you put it quite that way, Don, but it's not a bad idea.”

I felt Amy come up behind me and reach around my hips, opening my fly and releasing my king cobra. I began to pant, but I was determined to finish the conversation.

“I'm afraid not, old fellow,” I replied, puffing like a fat man with a bad heart climbing Mount Whitney. “You might have an outside chance nine months from now, but I doubt it.”

“I don't get you,” Sam was stammering. “Right, and you don't get my wife, either.” I laughed, delighted with my idea, “Tell you what, though. There's a real friendly German shepherd in the living room. He's looking for a good home-somewhere else. Name's Alexander. Alice would love him.”

The rest is pretty hazy. I remember ringing off and then Amy was all over me, like a thousand electric needles and I knew our troubles were over-for good.

By the way, when the baby came, he looked just like me.