venice beach puppy caper
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Venice Beach Puppy CaperPussy Willow Series -1
by
XTICKS
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copyright 2012
-disclaimer-
This story is a work of fiction. Anyresemblance to actual events, places,
or persons is strictly coincidental.
This title contains subject mattersuitable for-adults only-
Please ensure you are over the age of 18years old before reading this title. Also, be
sure to check the laws, in your localjurisdiction, applicable to the reading or
consuming of materials intended for adults,before reading this title.
XAMBooks | Toronto, Canada
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One
Maybelle was an old school chum, andI hadnt seen her for a few months.
When she moved onto the mainland it
was really to get away from me.
Shed seen my place in Nassau more
than a few times, and we both felt thenext time she wouldnt want to leave.
So she packed up her belongings,
most of which she would only see
months at a time when she returned
home to mom and pop, and got her
own life started in the Venice Beach
area of Florida. The move didnt work
for more than a month or two. I did
my part, but Maybelle making allkinds of excuses for me to come to
visit is why we failed. The excuses
were usually based in my work as a
private-I, and so after a while they
had to be quite colorful to even getme to pretend to believe she really
wanted anything other than meat. I
didnt mind giving meat to her, not at
all, I had long realized she wanted
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more than that from me though, and
just plain didnt have more to give.
Maybelle and I had been doing bad
things to each other for more than a
few years. Not long into our teenage
friendship we realized this amazing
thing happened each time our flesh
would connect. And we promptly got
to connecting regularly. When she
wasnt crossing the causeway to myparents place in Portmore, spending
days there at a time on Daddas
second floor retreat, I was crossing
the other way and up into the Stoney
Hill area of St. Andrews where herfamily had a sprawling rural-ish gem
where we could watch her wild horses
all afternoon long after being some
wild horses ourselves in Maybelles
cool basement room. The second
floor of my home was a virtual
hideaway as ours was the only house
within the natural eye with an upper
floor. Dadda cast it himself out of
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steel and cement, and then thinking it
fell slightly short of perfection he
never visited.
The house up the mountain was a
remnant of the Islands slavery past. I
dont know how her people acquired
it, what they did to be able to afford it.
It did however make up, much as
Maybelle herself did, a significant part
of my memories of my own flesh
awakening, and I loved both the houseand Maybelle for that. The first time
she laid lips on me I arrived not far
from where they say you go when
hard drugs slam you wicked. I guess
she was for a while there kind of like adrug to me. I hit that wall and rode
that train daily, sometimes oft in a
day, wanting to get all there is to get
from female human surrender. When
your teenage chum gives herself to
you, wishing with her eyes you will do
any, everything with her, you rise to
this challenge. Days you feel youve
exceeded what this type of gift was
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ever meant to be. And times you wish
to, seek out how to make it more.
Like to be offered up the flesh withoutreservation need not end at the
borders of physicality. And you find
yourselves as you walk the
boardwalks of Anytown hand in hand,
you discover youve transcended the
known universe to places beyond this,
to new, sweeter places where only
you and she exist, asking yourself; is
this that itthat ultimate.
Love needs to be free though to be
that. If it isnt free it isnt love its
commitment. Maybe someday I would
want that too, but I was too young..too free. So Maybelle moved to the
mainland to get away from me. Pretty
soon my work had me all over the
Caribbean, and her and my thing just
kind of faded into whomever else she
was doing and all else I was trying to
forget. Whenever my teenage
sweetheart called I would pretend to
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believe she needed me for something
other than meat, and run to her.
So what was it this time?
She bought a new puppy.. a Terrier.
The dog spent the first few days
laying and defecating all over her
Italian carpet, and on day 3 when
Maybelle stepped from the shower the
pup just wasnt there any more. Up
and vanished. She didnt even make
a sound. I knew from experienceMaybelles place was mainly open.
Between the giant bay window
opening her giant bedroom onto the
beach below, and the French doors
opening onto the balcony she neverclosed, I just assumed when she told
me the tale on the air-phone, the little
shit had just jumped to freedom. That
was kind of what I did, and well, I
guess I was looking at the thing solely
from my own perspective.
Miamis heat hit me.
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I was barely back in Nassau from
Hariettes Kingston heat when
Maybelle rang my line. Her pup wasmissing and she sounded desperate.
The one had nothing to do with the
other despite what she really
believed, but I play the game of
pretend. I was a little desperate
myself. The Queen of Harbour View if
nothing else had awoken my sex
animal again. Our brief tryst had
stroked and tamed the lion, did whatit could while we lay there, but as
suddenly as that bliss was interrupted
is as undying as my revisiting that
part of me was. If Maybelle wanted to
play reminisce, I was amplymotivated.
Watching her emerge from the haze
rising from the cement walk skirting
the arrivals deck was like buying a
gun. Releasing hot metal and
watching them sail through the air has
a promise you rarely get anywhere
else. When fresh slugs make their
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mark its a mixed bag. You see the
destruction even as the metal tries to
connect with the flesh -burning.Youre remorseful for the lead, for you
know it will never be flesh, never join
it. A bullet touching flesh does one
thing burn and destroy it forever.
Concurrently you feel the flesh dying
even as the bullet electrifies it. The
searing energy of hot lead, roasting,
turning to ashes any flesh it meets is
in an instance promise, then death.When you witness the connection you
wish for once the flesh could become
more alive from its meeting gun-
energy. You wish their union could go
someplace good wanted. Myconnecting with Maybelle was going
to be this promise, then death. If she
let me I was going to caress the
promise for as long as the promise
allowed.
She didnt want to wait. I didnt
either. I fell on top of her as we fell on
top of the Divan bed, and the room
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took us in. There was shiny porcelain
everywhere. They watched me pull
the strap of her dress south. Maybellehad a collection of expensive dolls
since childhood, she couldnt stand
not having them around her. I wanted
to individually close all their eyes. I
felt the eyes on me as I slid her thin
summer dress past her thighs and up.
The want you feel, your meat feels,
watching fabric caress skin youre
about to wet is a place I want to diein. The brown of Maybelles eyes hit
me.. then the fullness of her lips. I
have known immense heat to rise out
of this womans flesh, but Florida
somehow gave her more of it to puton me. Her heat made my want come
in fully. When she was wearing
nothing but the fragrant mist my meat
got up fully. It didnt want to wait. My
eyes strained about Maybelles pretty,
perfect bedroom, but my rod on its
own found her centre wet. I got up in
her the savour of it a mental line
from my groin to the charge flowing
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behind my skull and to my brain.
When the mix of the grip of her flesh
and the scent so sweet of theChevrefeuille bit me, I was lost. I
wanted to look into her eyes and see
the thing I had seen there before, that
thing that makes the heart weak. Its
not that am narcissistic and wanted to
stir things in her that there is no room
for in our contract. But rather that I
believe that this is what we are love
at its pinnacle where there is nothingmore where we can be this magic,
and not wish for anything else from
each other. She had taught me a lot
about smell. Her skin and flesh taught
me many things too, about how tomake them chant, how to use them
and have them sooth me to bliss. My
meat was using the walls of her. They
in turn the walls- were gripping,
urging from me touch euphoric, and in
her eyes I saw it heart-magic. I
ground deeper if slower into her.
Maybelles skin, her arms around me,
took hold of my senses and the heat
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of her shot me to mars briefly. My
return was met by the whisper of her
breath.Feel me. I was truly feeling all
there is to feel. Feel me? I knew
what she was asking that
metaphysical thing that some say
survives the fleshs demise, did I
connect with it was I basking in her
essence, the thing at the centre of us
some feel it is our purpose to meet.
Well I have never met metaphysicalme, nor have I ever even tried, but as
I nodded my reply to Maybelle, I was
sure I was locked in an embrace with
hers. It spoke to me then. And
electric me understood the language.It said erupt.. and release and bathe
Maybelle with your milk. It said give
to her bits of you, leave with her parts
of yourself. Her walls urging you to
descend in their midst will hold you
much better when you do.
When the idea released me I had
already broke. Her whimper in my ear
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said she did too. Our waters were
mixing one with the other and heat
dancing off each of us to mix in theair. Maybelle embraced me sweetly
but I was fine with it.. for now I was
fine with it.
That first night there in bed made her
fears real to me, for I swore I heard
her Terrier barking in the walls.
Maybelle had been sitting on the edge
of her bed when I stirred, and withonly her eyes asked if I believed her
now. There had to be a hundred dogs
in the complex housing her
apartment. But something about the
direction of the barking made mewant to believe. The dog couldnt fit
in the walls. Could it? The first thing
she had done was have the buildings
management scan the walls of her
condo with infrared. There was no
sign of her pet. The barking had a
here-and-now reverb. I wanted to
believe it was nearby.
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Did you check with the
neighbours? She lowered her head
as I asked.No ones seen her. I hugged
Maybelle close to me. If we could just
fall back asleep, in the morning I
would get on the case.
Venice Beach in the early morning is
like New Years once a day. You can
smell the previous nights celebration
as you walk the sands or theboardwalk, and high above the line of
the beach, in the windows of each
condo, you can almost see its
remnants. Maybelle and I werent
able to get back to sleep well mainlyher. Her cries would slice each of my
descents into sleep, and after the
third or fourth time I gave in and sat
up in the bed next to her. Her face is
the same face Ive known for many
years -her soft regard for my internal
rants a fixture. When she smiled as I
was stared into space still wrapping
my mind around the case I had left
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behind in Kingston, I felt like in a way
she was reading my mind. I really
wasnt done with the case in Jamaica.At least my brain wasnt done trying
to makes sense of the details. Hariette
Donavons marrying her groom only to
rob him seemed like such an extreme
way to steal a stone.
Jack. She had been staring
steadfast into my elsewhere eyes.
You know I love you? I gave her my
eyes fully. More than whomever it isstealing your presence from me right
now. I could only smile.. and hug my
high-school sweetheart close to me,
thinking I can still hear her missing
pup crying nearby.
Im sure I saw it before she did.
It would take me much longer than
her to accept it though. The beach
below Maybelles place curved inland
near the edge of the long row of
hotels on the south side of the beach.
Coming around this curve, I could
have sworn I saw a well-dressed
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Cuban walking quite briskly towards
us. When my eyes directed
Maybelles towards the spectacle, shealmost immediately picked up her
pace towards the man. By the time
Maybelle started running, 20 yards
separated her from me. I wanted to
stop her, but knew even a sharp
command couldnt stop her as the
man carried a dog I guessed she
thought was hers. Something told me
to uncase my blix, and when I did thestranger pulled his from in back of his
waist shooting towards Maybelle and
I. That stopped Maybelle dead in her
tracks.
Hit the deck, I said, beforereleasing my gun twice at the Cuban.
He only changed routes, but kept
coming at us. The lead kept coming
too, several cascading to the sand
around Maybelle. I let him have it
then. The first hit his gun-shoulder
spinning him half round, two more
made their mark in his chest, and he
fell first to knees, then to one side,
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still clutching the dog under his good
arm. I advanced past Maybelle, her
filing in behind me. I approached thedying Cuban, still aiming the blix.
Blood bubbled from his lips.
I only wanted to talk, he
gurgled, the dog scurrying from his
limp arm and jumping into Maybelles.
You drew on me. I only shrugged.
Find the other, he said before dying
his eyes darting right and left in his
head.
Who wanted to have to deal with
police on the beach? Not me. I
suppose it could have been later in
the morning. This incident certainlywould have ruined my day in that
case. This early in the morning
though meant after answering all of
the expected questions I could go
home and sleep it all off wake up
again and start over pretend its a
new day. I particularly disliked
dealing with detectives on the
mainland simply because my Private-I
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I.D. really didnt get very much
respect here. I spent half the time
explaining why I was mixed up inwhatever I was mixed up in, then once
we got down to the actual
circumstances I usually had to
demonstrate I knew what I was doing
before they let me leave. In this
instance I had shot to death a well-
dressed local. It almost seemed like
there was still smoke rising through
the 3 perfect holes in his rayon bush-shirt. And really I shot him on
speculation. According to the
deceased he only shot because I
pulled my tool. Well guess what? I
shot back because he was shooting. Ishot better when he started shooting
at my girlfriend. It doesnt get any
more cut and dry than that. The
faultless female detective, once she
dug the slugs from the Cubans piece
out of the sand, saw that as well as
she sees her gorgeous face in the
mirror each morning as she gets
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ready to come out onto these mean
streets.
Theyre blanks, she said,holding one of the shell-casings up to
my face. I just shrugged. She let
Maybelle and I go after that.. with the
usual warning. Dont leave town.
Maybelle wasnt doing too well. She
knew what I did for work. But I dont
believe she ever saw it so up close
and personal. Really I think she wasworried about spot the way you would
worry about a child witnessing
violence like maybe the dog saw too
much. She had told me the dogs
name the night prior, but I hadforgotten. Spot suited the pup fine as
far as I was concerned, cause she
didnt have any. I wanted to reassure
Maybelle tell her spot was fine.
Really I didnt know much about dog
psychology. If it was a child I would
have told her to have the child take a
nap and then love and cherish the
child for life when it woke from that
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J3Z3B3L
I was glad the buff was gone. It made
me not want to get out of bed. And I
knew I had to. The tattoo didnt make
sense to me. I rubbed the sleep from
my eyes and took another look.
That Spots name or a licence
plate?
Fergie! She corrected me.
And the tattoo says Jezebel. Inodded, getting it as I read the
inscription again. Why would
someone do something like that?
She looks to my eyes . Is it that hard
to remember a dogs name? I rosefrom the bed. It was time to take this
more seriously. You first of all have
people shooting at my loved-ones,
and then committing animal cruelty.
If I understood the Cubans dying
words there is another one of these
pups.. probably with a similar tattoo.
Maybelle saw the name Jezebel. What
I saw was code. I wanted to find the
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balance of it. She had her pup back.
So that case was closed. The code
etched in the dogs skin opened a newone for me. Shed only owned the
thing a few days before it
disappeared.
Whered you buy the dog
exactly? She looked to my eyes
wondering what I was up to.
Out of town, she said. I was
driving in from up the coast. I saw a
sign. My eyes widened. The signled me to a farm. And I bought 1 of 3
Terriers they had there that day.
When we got to the spot Maybelle saw
the sign days earlier, there was nolonger one there. That was ok. I
didnt expect it to still be there. There
was a sign there advertising fresh
tomatoes. That was good enough.
We descended the dirt lane to the
farmhouse expecting to be greeted as
Maybelle was and soon realized we
were entering a ghost town. The front
door of the small house swung from
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creaky hinges. The breeze blew the
door open till the limits of the hinges
forced them back into the breezeagain. There were innumerable
chimes hanging from the veranda
ceiling, and the music they made said
it all. Sunlight shone into the house
from in back of it, but the rays shined
on no one. When we circled to the
back of the house there were
comfortable chairs on a recently
constructed deck, but no oneoccupied the chairs. As far as you
could see into the ample orange
orchard there was neither man nor
machine. It was obvious Maybelle and
I were alone. I quickly got tired of themusic of the chimes, audible even
from the edge of the orchard, and
headed back to the car. Maybelle
took her time joining me.
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