“Is this Spanky?” She moves from behind the counter and bends at the knees to give him a good rubbing down. “He’s so cute.”
I’ve never wanted to be a dog more than I do right now. Of course, Spanky loves the attention, lapping Kiki’s arms and hands with his wet sloppy tongue. I’d like to lick her too. Oh, the places I would lick.
“Yeah, this is him.”
“Are you a good boy?” she asks the dog, and he nips out a little yelp as an answer.
Suck up.
Thankfully, she doesn’t ask me, because I’d have to tell her in graphic detail what a bad boy I could be.
She gives him a scratch behind the ears, stands back up, and returns to her spot behind the counter. “Ok, let me just get you guys signed in, and I’ll take you both back.”
“Oh, I’m gonna go with him?” To be honest, I’ve never taken a dog to the groomer, but I always thought it was more of a drop off thing.
“Yes, you’re both getting the Spawesome Pamper Package.” Her grin is big. A little too big, like she’s holding back a laugh.
“Wait, am I missing something?”
She waves her hand to the wall behind her where a sign hangs, showcasing the details of this so-called Spawesome Pamper Package.
I read the first line to myself, and it’s a ‘doggy and me’ grooming package. An owner and dog manicure/pawdicure complete with a blueberry facial.
Nope.
Not today.
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was a joint thing.” I glance down at my trimmed nails. “I think I’m all good.”
Kiki looks at Spanky and parks both hands on her hips, looking sexy as hell. “Do you want a pawdicure with your daddy?”
He yelps out that same barking sound and wags his tail.
Traitor.
“Don’t you have some sort of drop off package thing?”
“Oh, come on. where’s the fun in that?” She gives me this slow smile that she hasn’t given me before, and I find myself whipping out my wallet to buy anything this girl is offering.
Next thing I know, I’m wearing a paw-print robe over my clothes and reclined in a leather chair with Spanky sitting on a smaller version next to me.
He looks like those dogs on the internet getting the complete spa package, all he’s missing is the cucumber slices over his eyes.
He’s loving this.
Kiss ass.
“I’m going to do the blueberry facial for you, while Spanky relaxes for a bit.”
Music plays in the room at a low volume as Kiki moves to a tall white cabinet, rattles some things around, and returns with a small bowl.
“Be gentle with me,” I tell her. And immediately, I envision hard and rough sex. Her bent over this chair with that little sundress pushed up over her ass and my dick sinking deep inside her pussy.
Fuck.
“I have the softest touch in town.” I’ll bet she does. She sets the bowl on a mini table beside me. “This will be a little cold at first,” she says, pressing her hands on my cheeks.
I jolt a little, and not because of the temperature of the paste, but because she’s touching me. And it feels fucking phenomenal.
Whisper-soft, she rubs the lotion into my skin, and I close my eyes, because if I keep gazing into hers right now, I may do something we’d both regret—like kiss her.
She massages my face, across my cheekbones and forehead, along the jaw, and I have to say, this is definitely spawesome. It’s like a perfectly crafted dance. Ever see Karate Kid?
The original ones, not the one with Will Smith’s kid. Daniel and the girl do this tea ceremony, and it’s like the slowest form of foreplay ever known to man.
That’s what this is. This is achingly slow foreplay.
But, I’m totally digging it.
I don’t dare say a word. I don’t even breathe until she stops rubbing and then places a warm cloth over my face.
“Your skin is so smooth,” she murmurs, removing the cloth from my face and reaching out to ghost her hand from my forehead to my jaw.
Our eyes connect and there’s really nothing in this moment that could make me break this connection.
Except, Spanky. He does that annoying little bark/yelp thing to interrupt the moment and she quickly pulls away.
Jackass.
“So when is the big day?” she asks, moving to a porcelain sink and washing her hands. “We should probably start planning.”
“Fuck. Listen, I have a confession.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “I don’t have a dog.”
“Are you ok?” She nearly has a unibrow at this point, but if anyone can rock it, she can. “I’m pretty sure that’s a dog beside you.”
“He’s not mine.” And then I keep going, “I kind of borrowed him.”
Hopefully, the wrinkle between Kiki’s brow is not an indication she's about to bolt from this room. There’s no way I can keep up the charade, though. I hate lying to her. I’d have to find a German Shepherd to marry Spanky and it’s just easier to come clean. Based on the way Spanky humps everything, I’m not sure he’s the marrying type anyway.