Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
When Bradley walks away, I pull my phone back out to check out that collar when I see Frankie’s sent another message. This one’s a black tail with what looks like some sort of butt plug attached to it.
Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. That’s too much.
My face fills with heat, the way it did when I got embarrassed last night.
The way I’m reacting, it’s not like I’m just looking at the tail, but as though Bradley’s caught me looking at it.
Why do these things work me up like this?
No, never, I think, dismissing the idea of the tail before I read Frankie’s message beneath it: You’d look real cute in this. ;)
Suddenly, I’m tempted to consider it further.
I click the link to the tail, and it’s not much. Like forty dollars.
I should get it, but that’s not exactly cheap for me, so I talk myself out of it.
I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to take that step.
After I finish my shift, I meet up with Derek for dinner. I find I’m unusually talkative today, eager to tell him about my day…but making sure to omit the stuff about puppy play. Not that Derek would mind at all.
I’m just not ready for this to get out yet…or for him to tease me about it. Even if he is just joking, I’d rather find my bearings with this before he starts giving me a hard time…because the jokes…oh, I can already imagine all the jokes he’ll make.
After Derek and I finish eating dinner, I head back to the condo. Frankie texts that he just got off work, and I decide to take a quick shower. I’m hoping he has a chance to look at some more of this puppy-play stuff when he gets back.
When I get out of the shower, I dry off and put on a pair of jeans.
Before I know it, I’m on my laptop, rereading some of the articles Frankie and I were checking out yesterday—this time, I don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with me researching about being a pup, or like Frankie’s going to pull up something and freak out. There’s an ease about it, an excitement, an exhilaration.
But it could be even more fun.
I head to the closet and approach my shelving unit, sliding my pull-out shelf toward me, revealing rows of rolled up belts and my hood.
As I grab it, I realize I’m already grinning ear to ear.
I turn to the floor-length mirror on the inside of my closet door and change into it, studying myself with the hood on.
I assess the puppy face and snout…and then my eyes.
It’s still me under here, yet there’s something different about it…something I can’t quite put my finger on…something that feels so life-giving about this.
I reflect on what Frankie said about how I needed to be in puppy space when I put on the hood.
I need to get some practice in, and I’d probably feel better doing it on my own than while Frankie’s around.
It’d be less embarrassing, for sure.
Last night, I did feel awkward when I was trying to be my pup self with Frankie.
I growl a little bit, the way I did last night, the way that felt so right, and then impulsively, I yelp a little.
I laugh. Even though I’m by myself, I feel like an idiot—like there’s this whole audience watching me and laughing.
I’m about to try again, but if I’m going to do this, I shouldn’t be standing up.
I drop to my knees, putting my hands on the floor. I’m inspired to raise my hand to scratch at the snout of the hood. I let out a soft, whimpering sound, then another growl. I settle for a moment before offering a bark.
I laugh again.
There’s still this voice in the back of my head that tells me this is the stupidest thing in the world…and another of Peter making those barking and growling sounds at me.
I hear the door to the unit open.
Frankie’s home!
A burst of excitement courses through me.
Usually, I’m just excited because he’s home, but today, it’s also because I know I get to share this with him.
I want to tell him about some of the things I found online and see more of these toys he’s been looking up while he’s been at work.
That collar comes to mind, and Jesus, I want one so bad.
I consider tossing off the mask to greet Frankie, but having it on makes me feel a little silly, a little playful.
I dash out into the hall on all fours, my knees getting the brunt of the polished cement.
As he steps around the divider of the entryway, his eyes widen, a smile sweeping across his face.
When I reach him, I hop up and jump on him, the way I might after a particularly awesome karaoke set.