Wednesday, June 15, 2011



Every Dog Has It's Day

In Wayne's world, apparently Dominating the Dominatrix was some sort of rite of passage. As evidenced by his increasingly sinister and greasy behavior. In all the movies I've seen or the thousand of books that I have read, the villainous degenerate that got inside the walled garden always worked themselves up into a fever pitch before they struck. I saw no reason why I would be any exception to history. To my best recollection as soon as the protagonist asks the inevitable question of WHY ME, the anguished cry of the baffled victim is soon answered by torture and death. So I chose to break with tradition and instead threw out a wild card. I behaved as though it had hardly registered that Wayne had me on the hunt.

"So do you have any animals"? I asked offhandedly as though we were on a blind date. His black, wiry eyebrows ruched together in scorn.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I have two cats, though you seem like a dog man. Am I right?"

"Yeah I had a dog. So what?"

"So what happened to it?" I pressed my back to the wall, stretching my legs straight in front of me running my hands along my own legs as though admiring them. His eyes followed along avidly, tracking the length of them. Then he looked straight at me. Oh how he hated me. Although I sensed it was in the abstract and nothing personal. Maybe in another time and place when he got off his chemical ride and purged himself we could have even been friends. I bet that would be the sort of thoughts he would coach himself with, as he wiped the blood from the blade. Regretfully he would shake his head as he came down with a crash and would flee the scene sloppily. He took all this trouble to set me up with the phone scam but what about the ISP on the computer and the e-mails? They would find him but a fat lot it would do me. I'd be splayed on the floor, long dead.

"I think my neighbors took it." Wayne answered sullenly filling his glass to the brim again. He stared petulantly into his wine and continued with his whining parade of injustices that a jealous world was inflicting upon him. A world that deeply envied his many trucks and all his special social charms.

"Yeah. They called the animal control on me before cause they are fuckin nosy and they have no idea what they are talkin about. I work all day and I leave the dog out in the kennel. They complained said I wasn't giving it water, said it was to hot to be left out there alone all the time. Animal control came but there was nothin they could do. It's not like I beat it or anything, they just came out and gave me a verbal warning. I told them to get off my fucking property or I'd blast their yammering heads off and they left quick quick."

"So how did it get taken away?" I asked shifting on the tall stool. I was trying to discreetly feel for the bulge in my boot as I wanted to have the mace near at hand. He was still agitated but for a moment less focused on me.

"Well this time it was Winter and I came home from work sat in front of the TV and had some drinks. I fell asleep and when I woke up it was pretty late around four am. It was cold and had snowed allot. It was hard to open up the kennel gate but the dog wasn't there. The dog was smart and everything but not that smart it could get itself out the kennel. Course the snow covered up any prints. I called some places and lodged some complaints but nobody owned up of course. I still look for that dog when I drive into town sometimes but its long gone." After this unexpected monologue Wayne stared mournfully through me. Inwardly I cheered for the dogs escape and the good souls who moved it along the under ground railroad of sanity. They are out there. I sometimes forget. This was a sweet reminder although I was still afraid I might die. I wrapped my hand around the mace and pulled it upward from the inside of the boot until it was waiting at the lip of the opening, still hidden.

With all the moving around, pouring wine and plotting feverishly, I noticed about fifty minutes had already passed. I openly checked the cell phone for the time and announced matter-of-factly that our time together was almost over. As I said this I stood up and pulled the mace from my boot palming it in my hand in case I really needed to use it. My heart was racing and the muscles in my legs were tensed to kick, the coppery taste of adrenaline swimming in my mouth. Wayne's eyes narrowed dangerously as he considered what I had said with visible contempt.

"I'm sorry Wayne, I feel like we just didn't click. I did explain to you what I did and didn't do, but perhaps as a novice you were just to nervous to make note of it. Maybe another time. However, I'd be happy to give you half of your money back. I think that is fair, don't you?" I was trying to casually move toward the door as I said this. Wayne stood stubbornly with his bearded chin stuck out.

"No I don't think so. I want all of it back. I work hard for my money and I didn't get nuthin. I didn't get kinky sex, I didn't get shit but some wine and I don't even like wine." He dumped the rest of the liquid into the sink and let the glass drop. I heard the delicate tinkle as it broke. The sound seemed to set Wayne free as he raggedly made his way toward me. I flung the front door to my apartment wide open so it crashed against the wall.

"Get out." I said steadily, trying to stare him down. I circled around edging him toward the door. At this point I was holding the can of mace in front of me, like a vampire hunter clutching a cross. He was heedlessly high, perhaps near sighted as well because he took no notice as he moved toward me hissing "You dumb, dumb bitch. Are you kicking me out?"

He stood planted in front of the open door, his back facing the hallway and glass front foyer that was street level. I saw with dawning dread a very thin person about getting ready to step inside my apartment building. I was hit with waves of ambivalence as I was relieved to have a witness and possible help yet did not want any of my neighbors being dragged into this for obvious reasons.

Although I did not recognize the cadaverous young man fumbling at the door, I was getting ready to call to him if need be. I hoped he had a flicker of humanity and would at least dial 911. I gave Wayne one more chance, still loath to make a scene and said evenly.

"Wayne get out now or I will spray this mace in your face. If you want your money, send me an e-mail with your address and I will send it in full. Right now I want you out."

He snickered and made as though to move closer. Just then, the neighbor stepped inside his apartment glancing over noncommittally. He was as stooped as a comma and looked like a pen and ink drawing, all black and white with one long dark bang that obscured one inscrutable eye.

I realized that finally I was seeing who Bunny and I called the the X Factor. We had never laid eyes on him although he was said to have lived here for years. He did not drive a car, not so unusual in the city. He had no name on the mailbox but we could often hear faint sounds of industrial sounding music playing somewhere in his apartment and the familiar scent of killer bud wafting around his door. When I took out the trash around back, I could see light from the slanted blinds so I knew someone lived there. They didn't bother anyone and no one bothered them as far as I could tell. The best sort of neighbors to have, the invisible ones. The X Factor slipped silently into his apartment, shutting the door softly behind him. Wayne made a sudden lunge toward me. I wished suddenly for friendlier neighbors.

I went with my instincts, over riding the insipid good girl voice. The one that was wheedling maybe I could talk him out of this craziness - somehow appease it. Well sometimes appeasing was really feeding the problem so I did what I felt was right and shoved him as hard as I could out the door. He fell and landed half in and half out of my apartment, kicking at me as he crabbed his way back inside. I sprayed him straight in his face and he hesitated a split second before he laughed. Nothing had come out. It had been so long since I had it, it must have dried up. I threw the empty can at his head and braced against the door jam with both arms and began to stomp him with my boots in earnest. The reptilian part of my brain must have taken over as I felt no fear as I aimed at his throat with my metal edged heels. I would have preferred that he left on his own accord but some people just can't take a hint.

We both stopped suddenly, hearing the same unmistakable sound. Even if you didn't know what it was, you would know what it was, almost on a cellular level.It was a twelve gauge shot gun being pumped and it cut through the cloud of blood lust that was gathering over us. I looked up sharply as did Wayne who had managed to flip over on his stomach. My laconic and mysterious neighbor, The X Factor was leaning casually against his door jam, the shot gun trained on Wayne.

"Get out and don't come back. You drive a red 2002 Ford Harley-Davidson F-150 pick up truck. Your license plate is from New Hampshire, I wrote it down. If something happens to this building or anyone in it you will have a world of trouble. Believe that. Now get up".

I believed him and so did Wayne as he got to his feet, returning to his early posture of cringing submission. If he had a cap he would have been wringing it in his hands as he he carefully edged past The X Factor who was nonchalantly tracking him with the gun. Wayne hastened out the door never looking back. I sighed in relief as I turned toward my neighbor who had lowered the gun and was moving back inside his apartment.

"Wait!Thank you and I'm so sorry. I can't begin to explain but it will never happen again. Thank you so much! You were amazing!" I gushed. The X factor gazed at me dispassionately for a moment and shrugged.

"Cool" He answered, went inside and shut the door.

I double checked the locks and sat on the sofa. I realized my legs were trembling. Cool indeed. I could not believe what had just happened. My first thought was to immediately call the police and tell them everything. But of course I couldn't. I had just recently found out that I was dabbling in ( innocent ways in the great scheme of things, but there ya go. That's why some are friend and some are foe.)was considered illegal in the vaguest of ways.

Life was odd, I mused. I was paid well to have my feet kissed and fondled or to spank a repressed man all wound up over something. I also really listened to these people and wished them well. I truly did feel I was a fantasy facilitator but how can you qualify such a thing? And why should we have to?

I struggled because although cheerfully cynical about most things, I felt with every fiber of my being that it would be the right thing, perhaps the cosmic thing, to contact the authority's and give them Wayne's information. He was a very dangerous man, I had no doubt of that. Now that I was dwelling in the land of the demi-monde, I found I had little legal recourse. My toe hold in society was precarious at best and although I seemed to be on the upswing, something like a vengeful killer or rapist on my ass would be a HUGE inconvenience. Then again I could be helping other women (and animals for that matter)in the future, dodge the freak. Ideals are so easy to have until they are tested.

I was in a quandary and until I thought on it further, I wanted to somehow thank the X factor. He was my paper thin hero, my sliver of ice rescuer and like all lone cow boys I knew he wanted to be left alone. Still I had to acknowledge his act of courage so I flattened a very generous amount of smoke and sealed it in a sky blue envelope. I laid on my belly, carefully wedging it under the old door. I continued this practice more or less, for as long as I lived there but I never saw him again. However, my tribute was always silently accepted. Last I heard, he was living there still.