Julie Taylor - The landlady's dog

He sipped at his martini, then popped a whole small cracker with cheese into his mouth. They'd told him the acid had never noticeably damaged the actual eyeball, only destroyed the thin lids, which plastic surgery had restored… plus his sight, but he had no way of knowing that was true.

Shit, that was hardly important anymore! In three years, a man learns to live with a horror, just as he accustoms himself to the loss of his wife after seven years, the girl he comes to believe is a part of him, for richer or poorer, through sickness and in health, till death…! Malarkey! Goddamn, what had gotten him off onto this tangent? He didn't want to think of that shallow bitch ever again! She was gone, on the other side of the continent, back in her Boston environment where she belonged, and he was well rid of her. More important things had suddenly, and so unexpectedly, happened to him!

The sound of Carol Dorsett's almost sensual voice and the delicate scent of her perfume shouldn't play any part in the picture, Mark knew, but he couldn't exactly get them out of him mind. Being sightless didn't destroy a man's desire… and he'd still bet his life she was a beauty! All the same, he had a job to do, and he intended to do that first and foremost! Besides, she was probably only being sympathetic… lonely too, no doubt. But he'd hate to put up a man with good eyes as competition and let her make a choice!

To hell with that crap! It was just sheer luck that he'd met her, and not to take advantage of it would be stupid! She sounded trustworthy enough, but he'd have to probe that deeper tomorrow night. Either she had told him the truth, or she was one slick operating chick… and if she was that, she damn sure wouldn't be wasting her time down in this end of town! No, she was for real, all right, and above all, he didn't want to get her marked! Christ, he couldn't protect her… couldn't even protect himself, but his end hardly mattered. Maybe, he better think about it a little bit… not be hasty and just get her uselessly involved… She sounded like a dream, almost too out of date to be true! He smiled. Imagine that, he reminded himself, Mark Cannon having a dinner date after all these years? And with what had to be a very lovely young girl! Damn, he could hardly believe it! The lingering sound of her soft warm voice taunted his memory. He drained his glass, flicking the savory olive inside his mouth. What the hell, he realized, his stupid cock had begun to stir…

Carol made herself a strong gin and tonic, poured a little Coke for Sultan and eased down into the only decent living room chair. She had to think things over. So much had happened to her in the last few hours that each unexpected, overwhelming incident seemed like a milestone in her too-uneventful life! Her lewd little episode with the handsome German shepherd beside her hardly seemed as if it had ever happened now, but she knew it really had… and only hours before! Again, she examined her conscience as she sipped at her drink! No! No, she wasn't sorry… nor ashamed… and she wasn't about to tell herself it might not happen again!

And then there was Mark Cannon! He certainly was a very striking, desirable man, and seemed untouched by the self-sympathy his affliction could cause. Instead, he acted alive and young, quite aggressive in fact, ready to ignore his handicap if she would. Carol hoped she'd shown him it made absolutely no difference to her, and guessed that she had done just that by inviting him to dinner. She really wanted him to come. There was something about him… appealing in every respect. It was difficult to think of a man like him never to have been married. He had to be thirty-two or three. Maybe, he'd tell her… and she would tell him her own sorry story… they would confide in each other…

Then the memory of Ed White's frightening appearance in the park marred her pleasant revery, and Carol drank heavily from her glass. Why had he so suddenly loomed up? She hadn't rid herself yet of the thought that he must have been following her! There was something terrifying about that ugly man! She couldn't bring herself to believe that his being in the park was just coincidental! Yet, in broad daylight, even with Sultan beside her, he scared her.

God! Carol hardly knew what to think, except that she wanted to keep as much distance as possible between her and the landlord. How his wife Peg could ever stand him was beyond her…! And then she again thought of her shapely brunette neighbor, and the almost incredible conclusions she'd come to earlier concerning Peg's lewd exploitation of Sultan. They seemed outlandish now… cruel and hasty accusations she'd readily whipped up to lessen her own immediate guilt. No… it was impossible… not Peggy! She just wasn't that sort of person… was she?

Carol wasn't hungry. She fed Sultan and made herself another drink, her third… or was it her fourth? It hardly mattered, she decided, the liquor's effects causing a warm, buoyant feeling to glow inside her, a pleasurable diversion she had almost forgotten existed. It had been a very eventful day, she thought, reviewing individually once more all the things that had happened, as she sipped her gin and tonic. For a change, there'd been a few happy things! She smiled down at the big German shepherd resting at her feet, a stimulated little tingle rippling in her belly when she remembered the lewd hour they'd spent together. Then, Mark Cannon came excitedly to mind, adding to those provocative stirrings…

Suddenly the door buzzer sounded. For a moment, Carol hesitated as Sultan's throaty growl gave warning, mental reflections of Ed White racing through her mind. Again the buzzer sounded, and with a staccato urgency this time that she couldn't ignore. Carol set down her drink and answered it with her dog close beside her.

It was Peg White and she was crying, her face flushed and crumbled, one cheek noticeably redder than the other. Clutched against her breast she held a purse, and a sob choked from her throat as she charged into the room!

"Close the door and lock it, please, Carol! Hurry, before he knows where I've gone!" Peggy White gasped in a terrified voice… locking the door herself when the blonde girl didn't react quick enough. "If he finds me, he'll kill me! I–I just know it! I've never seen him so raving drunk!"

Without asking, Carol knew that the almost hysterical girl was referring to her husband. "Wh-Where is he now?" she quickly questioned hoping to God he hadn't seen his wife come in there.

"I-in the apartment, still looking for this, I suppose!" Peggy whispered in a shaking voice holding up her purse. "I–I keep the rent money in here for the bank deposit. It's not ours, you know… we have no right to use it, but that makes damned little difference to Ed! It's money… and that's all he cares! Money to throw around in bars… and to buy those slutty teenage bitches…!"

Trembling, the distraught wife began to cry again and Carol tried to comfort her, putting an arm around Peg's shoulder and walking her toward the couch. "Here, dear, you sit down and let me get you something to steady you. You're safe here…"

"As… as tong as… he doesn't know where I am…!" Peggy sobbed.

"Don't worry. He can't get beyond that door, not with Sultan here!" Carol assured her. "Now you sit right there while I get you a drink, honey. Then, we'll see what to do about this!"

The ugly brute had obviously slapped her, Carol thought, trembling herself as she poured straight whiskey into a small glass. The red welts from his big fingers were still embossed on the poor girl's cheek.

"Here, drink this, hon," Carol said, dropping down beside Peg to gently place a hand on the shivering brunette's shoulder as she handed her the glass. "Just sip at it… would you like some water…?"