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| A QUIET NIGHT IN This is a work of fiction by gamma_1963@yahoo.co.uk. All rights reserved. This work can only be re-printed by permission of the author. I've just got in from work, not even taken my jacket off, when the phone rings. I'm tempted to let the machine pick up, but what the hell. I answer. "Hello?" "Hiya, this is Ruth." "Ruth! It's been weeks - how are you?" I've known Ruth for a couple of years now, she's a great lady. Friendly but tough, takes no crap from anyone. She works as some sort of counsellor or therapist or whatever, so I guess she has to be able to handle herself. We normally get together two or three times a month. Nothing sexual, she's got a boyfriend, it's just that we enjoy each other's company. A bottle of wine and a pizza in front of the TV then we go our separate ways. Ruth and I chat for a little, then she says: "Are you doing anything tonight? My boyfriend's away and I'm bored." "Nope, nothing planned. Just a quiet night in. Fancy coming over and sharing a pizza?" "I thought you'd never ask. Do I need to bring some wine?" "No, I've got a couple of bottles in." "That's good. Very good. It'll be relaxing. So relaxing. So peaceful." I feel myself unwinding just listening to her voice, feel myself losing concentration as she says: "You know how much you like to relax, you remember it so well." I can't think straight, but part of me knows what I'm going to hear next. I mustn't hear those words, but I want to hear them - need to hear them. What words? I'm confused, I don't know any words. Please say the words. Silence for a long second, then she says: "Puppy Time." Sleepy now, mind drifting, not really sure what I'm doing. I just mumble "Yes, Mistress" and hang up the phone. I walk over and open a kitchen drawer. Inside at the back is a leather collar. It's always in the drawer, but normally I just don't see it. I strap the collar around my throat and things start to make sense again, it feels so good. Next I start to remove these silly clothes. Getting the shirt off is fairly easy, but the trousers are difficult. There's that complicated belt thing around them, I cant really remember how that works. Why do people wear these things? Much nicer to be naked, much more natural. Sitting on the floor, I remove my shoes and manage to struggle out of the trousers. They are followed by my socks and underwear, all my clothes just thrown into a pile. It's a good job I don't want to put them back on, I haven't the faintest idea what goes where. And I can't remember how to use fingers any more. At least I'm on the floor now, standing on two legs felt strange. Down here is where I belong. Mistress will be here soon. The thought of her smell and her touch is the only thing in my mind. I crawl over to a rug and lie down, waiting for her. Some while later I hear the sound of the door opening. I jump up onto all fours and bark happily then pad out into the hallway. There is Mistress, just closing the door behind her. I trot up and start licking her boots. I feel her hand reach down and stroke my hair. "Good boy," she says and this puppy could not be happier. Later. Mistress is sitting in a chair, a small table by her side. She is watching the box in the corner. It has strange moving pictures and makes loud sounds. It frightens me a little, but Mistress is here. I'm safe, laying here at her feet. And she is laughing, she is happy. Which makes me happy. She is eating and every so often she passes something down to me, a piece of something with sticky red stuff on top, and I eat it gratefully from her hand. Then something dreadful happens. The box suddenly makes a very loud noise. I jump and bump into the table, something falls to the floor and liquid splashes out. Mistress leaps out of the chair and towers over me. "Bad puppy!" she shouts, "You've spilt my drink!" I begin to whimper. I know I've been bad, I've let Mistress down. I'm sorry, so sorry. She starts pulling a strap from around her waist and I know I will be punished. Mistress raises the strap and I quiver. This will hurt but I'm a bad puppy and I deserve it. As she strikes my rear end I howl. Once she has finished she sits down again but she is no longer laughing. I crawl wretchedly to her feet and whimper, hoping she will forgive me. Later. Mistress has forgiven me. Sometimes if I've been very bad she locks me into a small room for the night. But tonight I'm allowed into her bedroom. I sleep on a blanket on the floor at the end of her bed. It's so good to be this near to her, to be able to hear her breathing. I fall asleep happily and dream of running through long grass, of playing fetch with Mistress, of her smile. Next morning. Mistress gets out of bed and I leap up, padding over to her. She gives me a quick stroke, then points to my blanket and says "Stay". I go back and curl up again and wait. For a while I hear her moving around. Then she returns, stands in the doorway and looks at me. "One day," she says "I'm going to leave without doing this: Human Time." The bedroom door closes, and I hear the front door shut behind her as I stand up and stretch. I feel stiff, I can't have slept well. I walk out to the kitchen, take off something from around my neck and put it into a drawer. Why was I wearing that? Wearing what? Forget it, it's too confusing. I head for the shower. The hot water eases my sore muscles, though my backside stings - I must have spent too long sitting down. That's what happens when Ruth comes around. We get on so well, we just sit and chat and before I know it the evening's over and she's going home. We usually watch a movie, but we enjoy chatting so much that I can never remember anything about the film. We must have watched at least fifty movies together in the last two years. I don't remember a single one of those evenings |
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