Dog Training The American Male (16 page)

“Yeah? So?”

“According to Wanda, Ruby was
coming on pretty strong the other day.”

“To Jacob, not to me.”
Oh
shit.

“Kleinhenz?” Nancy turned on him
like a hawk circling a pink-eyed bunny. “Isn’t that the woman who hired Jacob
to do the Ritz-Carlton gig?”

“Did she? I can’t remember.”

“And this woman wants to sleep
with Jacob?”

“Wade . . . Dylan . . . get
in the car!”

“Vin, answer her.”

“Nancy, Ruby Kleinhenz is
fifty-two years old.”

Helen interjected. “She has the
tits of a porn star and hasn’t looked a day over thirty-five since her face
lift. Wanda told me you have the Cougar scheduled for labia surgery.”

Vin picked up a piece of General
Tso’s chicken with his fingers and shoved it into his mouth. “Yes, Helen. Ruby
Kleinhenz is scheduled to get her lower lips tightened. I’m a vagina doctor.
Restoring outstretched labia is one of the surgical procedures I offer to women
who have birthed children.”

Helen’s face flushed red. “Are
you insinuating that
my
lips need tightening?”

Torpedo in the water! Launch
countermeasures!
“Of course not. If anything, your lips are too tight. And
why the hell is my RN talking to you about my patients? That’s a strict
violation of the doctor-patient code. You’re lucky I don’t report the two of
you.”

“And you’re lucky I offered you
half of my dinner!” Helen snatched Vin’s plate of Chinese food. “Go change your
clothes,
vagina doctor
, you’re going to be late.”

Vin started to say something . . . then
thought better of it and left. He made it halfway up the stairs before he
stopped.
Apologize. It’s a strategic surrender and it won’t get you laid,
but at least you’ll be able to watch Sports Center tonight in peace.

Vincent re-entered the kitchen.
“Helen, honey . . . I’m sorry.”

“Shut-up and get the boys to practice.
And stop encouraging Cougars like Ruby Kleinhenz to re-do their goolie lips!”

Forget the white flag . . . she’s
at Defcon One.
He trudged back up the steps, passing Dylan on the way down.
“Hey, kid—twenty bucks if you snag your old man an egg roll.”

OLD
SCHOOL

Sixty-six-year-old
Sandra Beach stretched out on a towel-covered lounge chair on the Lido deck of
the cruise ship beneath a cloudless cobalt blue sky. It has taken three days
and several mango Mojitos for the widow to finally loosen up enough to enjoy
the senior’s cruise. This morning the ship had arrived at their first port of
call along the “Mexican Riviera” but Sandy had no interest in leaving the sun
deck—now that her Chinese suitor had finally made his move.

A steward had introduced her to
Dr. Jun Dong two nights ago at a cocktail party. The wealthy acupuncturist from
Beijing was a slight but virile man a few years younger than Sandy, his shaved
head polished and tan, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Dong, as he preferred to be
called, was traveling in one of the more expensive suites on the ship and
claimed he had been keeping tabs on the Widow Beach since Sandy had boarded in
Los Angeles. They had eaten dinner together last night and she had been his
“arm candy” at the casino where he had lost over $3,000 playing blackjack as if
it were pocket change. A late night dance had led to their first kiss—the first
real kiss she had shared with a man not named Brian Beach in almost forty
years.

Her friends (two of whom were
also widows) had pushed her to take the cruise and be open-minded to “new
experiences.” Spending time with a divorced Asian man certainly qualified. They
had met again for breakfast early this morning, had played three games of
badminton (she had to stop when her calf muscle had cramped) and now they were
in bathing suits by the pool, Dong working up a sweat as he lovingly massaged
her sore calf and feet.

Brian had been a hairy man—hairy
back, hairy shoulders . . . hairy groin. As far as Sandy
could tell, Dong was hairless.
What if they ended up in bed together? Would
his hairless dong cause her to laugh or turn her on?
Recalling her late
husband’s hairy ass, she decided that a change might indeed be a good thing.

Her cat nap was interrupted by
her ringing cell phone. She checked the caller ID. “Nancy?”

“Hi, mom. How’s the cruise?”

“Wonderful. Tell your sister
there are lots of eligible men on board. Men with penises.” She winked at Dong,
who had produced a small packet of wooden acupuncture needles from his robe
pocket.

He nodded reassuringly, whispering,
“to help your leg pain.”

Sandra ignored him. “So, what’s
new darling?” She asked Nancy, twirling her badminton racket. “How’s Lawrence?”

“Jacob, mom. I want to know how
you did it. How did you manage to stay with the same man for thirty-seven
years?”

“Forty years. We lived together
for three years before Lana was born. Men are like clay, darling, they need to
be shaped in order to be good companions. It requires a lot of patience—
son
of a bitch!
” She whacked Dong across his sweaty bald skull with her
badminton racket. “That fucking hurt! Enough with the goddam needles!”

“So sorry.” Dong bowed, quickly
removing the needle protruding from the arch of her foot.

“Unbelievable . . . Where
was I? Oh yes, patience. It really is the key to molding the man. Nancy, be
honest, do you love Louis?”

“It’s Jacob, mother. And yes, I
love him.”

“As I remember, you said the same
thing about Dan and Sebi. My point, sweetheart, is that sometimes love isn’t
enough. That’s where behavior modification comes in. Of course, some women take
it too far. Why just last night I read a news report that said there were over
ten thousand battered husbands living in America. Ten thousand! And do you know
why?”

“No mother. Why?”

“Because, darling, they don’t
fucking listen. Hold the line.” She pulled her foot away from Dong. “That’s
enough with the massage. Why don’t you be a good boy and get us something to
drink?”

He offered her a thumbs-up, blew
her a kiss, then jaunted over to the bar, catching himself as he tripped over
an empty lounge chair.

Well, it was fun while it
lasted . . . 
“Nancy, are you still there?”

“Behavior modification. I’m
trying that.”

“It takes time. Try to be patient
with this one, darling. You’re not getting any younger and I’d really like some
grand-babies before I’m too old to enjoy them. Gotta run. Kisses to Louis.”

Sandra disconnected the call,
then stood and limped off to join a water aerobics class, lugging her bag with
her in the hopes of losing her would-be Chinese suitor.
It would have never
worked out. Going through my adult life as Sandy Beach was bad enough; I don’t
think I could handle Sandy Dong.

DOG
TRAINING THEAMERICAN MALE

Lesson Two: BALL PLAYING

Seated out back
on a partially-chewed patio chair, Anita Goodman kept a watchful eye on Nancy Beach
as she used a treat to bribe the exuberant male German Shepherd into a “sit”
position.

“Well done. I think you and Sam
have mastered the sit and paw; let’s move on, shall we? Dogs that eat shoes or
seat cushions are either lonely or bored. My English springer spaniel, Daisy,
used to drive me crazy chewing on my leather sofa—God, I could have strangled
her. Then I started tossing the Frisbee with her twice a day and . . . wah-la,
no more chewing. Sam is a big, frisky dog, and big frisky dogs love to play
fetch.”

Anita removed a tennis ball out
of her backpack and showed Sam the ball. “You like the ball, baby? Go get it!”
She tossed the ball off the back of the fence.

Sam chased after it, and then
brought it back, chewing on it.

“Wow, he did it.”

Sam nuzzled Anita with his mouth
but refused to let go of the ball.

“See how Sam wants me to engage
him, forcing me to physically remove the ball from his mouth? Only I don’t want
to engage in the game of tug-of-war . . . A, because Sam
may accidentally bite me, and B, because I just had these nails put on.”

“They do look great.”

“You don’t think the fuchsia is
too much for my toes?”

“I think you need it with the
white pants.”

“I agree. Sam . . . drop
the ball.
Draaaahp . . .
” She bribed the dog with a
treat.

Sam dropped the ball.

“Always remember to repeat the
desired behavior. Rinse and repeat, just like shampoo. Now you try.”

Nancy took the ball and tossed it
high into the air. “Get it, boy!”

Sam ran under it and leaped, snagging
it in mid-air.

“Did you see that? Good catch,
Sam. Now bring it here.”

Sam brought the ball to Nancy.

“Sam, drop!”

The dog dropped the ball, earning
his treat.

“Excellent mastery of the ball
toss.”

“Now if we could only train him
to put down the toilet seat.”

“Without an opposable thumb? Not
likely.”

“I meant my boyfriend. He’s not
as quick a learner as Sam.”

“Ah . . . gotcha.
Girlfriend, do you know the
real
difference between a man and a dog?”

“No opposable thumb?”

“No. The difference between a man
and dog is that a dog can lick its own balls.” Anita nodded coyly at Nancy.

* * * *
*

At precisely 5:57
p.m., Jacob Cope
entered his home. “Nance, I’m home.”

He placed the newspaper on the
shelf by the hall mirror . . .then thought better of it and tossed
it in the powder room trash can – forgetting to remove his sandals, which left
a trail of dirt. Hearing the dog leaping and barking at the glass sliding door,
he entered the kitchen to find Nancy standing by the refrigerator . . .wearing
a bathrobe and spiked heel shoes.

“Hey, Nance. Nice shoes. Are you
going out somewhere?”

“No. I’m staying right here so I
can fuck your brains out.” She opened her robe, flashing him a quick view of
her physique—her nipples and shaved groin just barely concealed beneath a red
g-string bikini.

“Holy shit . . .”
No longer exhausted, Jacob approached Nancy like a dog in heat.

“No!” She closed her robe again.
“Come with me.”

Jacob practically skipped behind
her to the front door.

“Jacob, do you know what gets me
wet?”

“No. I mean, of course I know . . . sure.
But I’d rather hear you tell me.”

“What really gets me horny is
when I walk into my house and I don’t have to trip over these smelly sandals . . .which
you’re still wearing – and have left dirt all over my clean floor.”

“I can fix that!” Removing his
sandals, he opened the door and tossed them outside, then – on his hands and
knees, swept the dirt into a neat pile. Using a wad of wet toilet tissue (the
anti-dingleberry brand worked best) he swept up the mess, tossed the dirty swab
in the toilet with a resounding
splash
, and proceeded to strip.

“Jacob, what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to get you wet and
wild, baby.”

“Get dressed.”

“Get dressed? Why?”

“Because tonight I’m going to get
you all wet and wild, er . . . hard and wild. But first I
need to use the powder room. Is there anything in the powder room that might
turn me off? Anything at all?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I haven’t even used it.”

“Be sure, because I’m really
horny and I thought I just heard a splash.”

Jacob climbed back into his
Bermuda shorts and entered the hall bathroom – the toilet seat covered in water.
Using another wad of toilet paper, he wiped down the seat, tossed the wet
tissue inside the bowl, and then closed the lid.

He found Nancy waiting for him in
the den. She was posing seductively, her open robe dangling halfway down her
back. “Very good boy. Come.”