Jon Reskind: The hungry pet

"Yes, Miss Eve?" the buxom, black-haired woman questioned, her handsome, dark-eyed face emotionless.

"Bring me a gin-tonic, Conchita… and tell Manuel I dropped a glass in the pool," Eve said, sitting up on the raft to let her long, shapely legs dangle in the water, her naked breasts swaying with the effort. "He can fish it out in the morning when he cleans it."

"Yes, Ma'm."

"And… tell me once more, Conchita, what did Mr. Garrett, our next door neighbor have to say yesterday when he came?"

"Well, he was quite put out, Miss Eve, that you hadn't called him," Conchita replied, her clear brown-eyes level with the wide, sultry green ones of her employer. "I-I told him you were ill, but at first thought you could still set for his sketches."

Eve smiled. "That was clever of you, Conchita. Was he angry when he left?"

"He didn't show it if he was. I believe he understood, Ma'm… or at least, accepted my word for truth," her maid, cook, and priceless nurse of a half-dozen years replied, dropping her eyes. "But as you know, I don't like to tell lies."

Eve continued to smile. "Sometimes they're not only necessary, but pay dividends, Conchita," the near-naked, blonde girl advised. "For instance, there'll be a bonus included in your check this month. Now… please get me my drink."

"Yes, Ma'm."

Eve absently watched her matronly stride as she moved away toward the house, her mind rapidly occupying itself with the young, Romanesque faced artist, whom, with his vivacious new wife of six months, she had met at a cocktail party pre-Bo-Bo… the day before, in fact. His rangy, awkward appearance belied his grace of movement, and there was a sensitivity in his hands as well as his eyes which more than just appealed to her; it had sensuously excited her. At that very moment, she imaginatively sensed those gentle hands smoothing exploringly, lovingly over her naked flesh… and God knows, that was what she needed in the wake of the heartless, filthy animal she was actually well rid of… damn him!

Besides, there had been something about that onyx-eyed, dollie-pure wife of Kevin Garrett which had struck Eve as a challenge, and even more so now in her present state. Yes, she'd call the talented Mr. Garrett this afternoon and offer her apologies. Perhaps, they could get together this evening for the first sketches, or tomorrow at the latest… He'd want daylight to work by, no doubt about that, she finally reasoned…

"Thank you, Conchita," Eve said, taking her drink from the offered tray, once more absently watching the other's silent, matronly departure. She wondered if Manuel still fucked her… or if the pious, handsome-faced woman had ever sucked his cock. Probably not; she was too busy burning candles and hoarding indulgences, though sometimes it was the saintly ones who fooled you, she well knew, like the effervescent Laura Garrett with the curvaceous young body and disgustingly chaste air…

Eve smiled calculatingly to herself, her suggestive, sensuous eyes gleaming as she sipped at her drink and gazed at the green, wooded area separating their properties. It should be fun, as well as sexually stimulating to compete with a younger broad and new wife for temporary control of the talented young husband's cock. It'd been a long time since she'd vented her wrath that way…

She saw it then, loping easily through the wood toward her, open-jawed and long, pink tongue visible, the ears of its great head standing erect. He paused on the edge of her lawn staring at her and Eve's breathing caught in her throat. A wolf! My God…! But no, that was ridiculous! There were no wolves in Big Sur country! He was a dog… German shepherd undoubtedly, the real depths of his beauty hidden beneath the mud and filth dried over hi coat of fur. She heard him whimper, and he own breaths leveled off once more as he began to hesitantly move toward her.

The short-haired, blonde girl in her next to nakedness could only stare at the uninvited caller invading her privacy, her brain subconsciously drawing a crazy parallel between the cruel human-animal who had just walked out on her and the handsome, bedraggled beast moving whiningly across the lawn with undecided steps in her direction.

My God, he was huge… and those eyes, glowing as if they contained all the wisdom of the wild… yet, so pathetic…!

"Well… hello, stranger! Where did you come from…?"

"Who was that?" Laura questioned, hardly looking up from her canvas as her young, angularly built husband returned from answering the telephone.

"That, my love, was the sexy Eve Novack," Kevin replied, squatting onto the stool before his work as he picked up his palette. "She requests that I please come over in the morning for sketches."

"What did you say?"

"That I would," he answered, leaning back to perspectively observe his reproduction of the President, which was due to appear on a news magazine cover in two weeks. There was still something wrong.

"What did she say about yesterday?" Laura asked, the fact that he'd agreed to go tomorrow for a sketch-setting irked her. She didn't like the girl… no, that was not it at all! She didn't trust her! And why should she, with a reputation such as she had…?

"That she was sorry. I told you, doll, she was sorry about that. Her maid was very apologetic. Miss Novack was ill but thought she could set anyway… etcetra… etcetra."

"Hmmmmm… maybe. I would be more inclined to think she was suffering from a hangover."

"Oh, for Chris' sake, Laura," her twenty-five year old husband edgily responded. "That's certainly a catty viewpoint."

"Maybe it is… but I'd almost bet that I'm closer to it than you are, darling," the young, extremely attractive girl in her paint-splotched smock lightly added. "Eve Novack is a cold and calculating bitch."

"What…? Wow! Hearing that come out of your gentle lips, baby, is like napalm!" Kevin said, gaping over at his curvaceous young wife whose beautiful black eyes never stopped setting him afire. "Y-You don't usually toss out opinions like that. What's the bit?"

"No bit, Kevin… just observant facts," Laura replied, trying very much to maintain a light tone, while inside, she was churning; yet she wasn't quite sure why. Outside of the fact that she loved her handsome new husband with a passion… but a particular passion of her own… and that the likes of Eve Novack claiming his privacy for even a minute… damn, she wasn't quite sure what she meant…

"Well, I'll give her a couple of hours… maybe three," Kevin Garrett informed, pleasurefully sensing what he thought might be a strain of jealousy in his luscious, twenty-two year old wife of six month's, voice. Christ, maybe that was what they needed, she climbing onto a jealous kick! They needed something, all right, before it all drizzled away like soiled water… never dirtied and only barely used…!

"So, you're going tomorrow, is that it?" Laura pressed, unable to shake her feelings.

"Yes, in the morning… close to noon. Miss Novack doesn't get up until then," he replied, remembering the husky lilt of her voice and the way she'd made him promise he would be there… "Look, darling, if I'm not up… but I will be… you come right in and slap me on the bottom! Everyone should be awake and at their thing by noon… shouldn't they?"

"Why… why yes, I guess they should! I'll be there."

"Wonderful! I'm looking forward to it so much, Kevin! And it should be fun for us… I mean, it doesn't have to be a drag, does it…?"

"No… no, of course not! I-It should be fun."

"I'll be waiting, dear… and I just know we're going to have a wonderful time…!"

Christ, he couldn't work! The canvas before him had lost all perspective. His cock was actually stirring inside his pants! Her Goddamned voice… that's what it was, her voice! If only Laura…? Maybe, if he began now… it was early enough to work into it… slowly, methodically, gradually sweeping over her and breaking down some of those barriers…! Damnit, he had to keep trying! She was his wife and he loved her! There really could never be anyone else… could there…?