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How does a dildo this big even fit in any holes?It would easily take me at least two hands to hold it.
You know what, I’m not even going to think about that.
Sucking in a breath, I focus on the task at hand: Getting the toy from the dog.
We’re standing in the kitchen of the Eaton’s home. I dog walk for them through a task assigning app, usually on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Miss. Dixie—who I affectionately call Miss. D—is a fifteenth month old ‘puppy’. I use that word loosely because this dog is too big and too powerful to be a baby. She puts fully grown dogs to shame with her strength.
She’s adorable, but right now I’d trade her in for a tea cup puppy. In fact, any type of dog that couldn’t have had the wherewithal to go rummaging for a toy in the back of the closet.
I’m more embarrassed about having to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Eaton how their bedroom toy became the dog's latest chew. A huge string of saliva falls from the corner of Miss. D’s mouth. Her tail wags playfully as she waits for our next move.
“Okay, we need a plan of attack,” Noah conspires, his eyes narrowing as he eyes up Miss. D.
Initially, when he arrived, Noah laughed at me, thinking his big muscles would be the solution. But we’re both breathing heavily after having spent a good thirty minutes chasing after the bundle of energy.
She thinks it’s a game, and every time I’ve gone to walk away, she starts chewing that darn thing before swinging it around, bashing it on the walls and cabinets.
“Maybe you can go around through the back gate, come in through the sliding doors and I’ll herd her towards you.”
Noah considers my idea for a moment. “I think it would be better if you went around the back. You can control the space of the door better and stop her from just running past you.”
He makes a good point.
Checking my watch, I do a quick calculation on whether I’ll have time to stop for lunch before my next job. I didn’t have time to grab anything at the bakery as I finished late—stupid temperamental ovens—and I’m starving. It’s eleven now, so I have three hours. Okay, that’s plenty of time. So long as it doesn’t take much longer to get her out the door. Every time I’ve tried to cajole her with a walk or a treat, Miss. D has been more interested in the dildo.
I can’t believe my morning has turned into this.
“Okay, I’ll head around now.” I walk past Miss. D, not taking my eyes off her as I move to the front door.
You’re going down doggo.
As I trudge around the side of the house and through the back gate, I pray that this plan works. I refuse to be taken down by a Great Dane with a giant pink dildo. It’s just not happening.
When I get to the back, my eyes connect with Noah through the glass window. I give him a nod and crouch like a quarterback getting ready to catch the ball.
He starts to shepherd Miss. D toward the door. Her bum is in the air, wagging her whipping tale as she anticipates his next move. When she’s close, I slide the door open, praying it doesn’t squeak or scrape loudly as I do.
Miss. D wiggles her behind toward me and when I think it might be the perfect time, I dive in, grabbing a hold of her neck, hoping to all that is heavenly that she doesn’t take off with me attached.
Of course she growls but then Noah, my knight in shining armor, puts a hand over her snout and pries her mouth open until she drops the plastic penis. He kicks it away, out of her reach.
“You got her for a second?”
My pulse is racing, and I swallow thickly as I look up at him, nodding. We’re close and for a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us seems to spark and crackle. My breath catches in my chest and I can’t help but look down at his mouth.
Please look away.
Noah clears his throat and straightens before walking over to the dildo. He picks it up and throws it in the kitchen sink. There is no way, I’m touching that. I sit up, turning Miss. D’s focus to me as I cuddle her and scratch behind her ears.
Now in place of the sparks, there’s an awkwardness in the air. And I can’t help but feel like my open ogling of Noah’s mouth caused it.Who am I kidding? Of course it did.
With a heavy sigh and the offending toy out of sight, I stand and walk to the front door. Picking up the collar and lead hanging on the hook, I call to Miss. D. Of course, she comes bounding down the hallway with bundles of energy that only a puppy could still have after hours of being chased around the house.
Noah follows behind at a much slower pace. I keep my eyes on the dog, afraid of what I might see in his gaze. Pity would no doubt be lingering there. At still harboring a crush on the guy who made it clear he had no interest years ago.
When Miss. D is leashed up, I’ve found my strength. I’m a twenty-seven year old woman now. I don’t need to be ashamed of having fallen prey to an intimate moment. And I certainly won’t be hiding from my feelings—I just need to have better control over them.
Turning to Noah, I paste a smile on my face, determined to brush off the insignificant moment as I ask, “Want to come on the walk with us?” When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “Unless you’ve got things to do. I’m sure you didn’t plan on spending your Saturday morning like this.”
