Spot

By Paul Beckman

Lorna walked by the firehouse with her Dalmatian every day. Butch, the fireman, and Lorna nodded hellos.

Soon it became a “Hey” and “Hi.”

That led to dog petting and Butch and Lorna chatting plus exchanging phone numbers.

Which led to a dinner date with Butch picking up Lorna at her apartment where they hugged hello. Spot growled.

A good date, many good-night kisses, many promises. Lorna was turned on.

Lorna wanted. Lorna needed. She poured another glass of wine after undressing. They wrestled on the floor then Lorna rolled over. Spot sniffed her while Butch slept at home adone.

           
“I write to see what’s on my mind and in my deepest thoughts.” – the writer