Dog Training The American Male (24 page)

“Up and over the Teeter Totter . . .”

The dog walked up, then down the
kid’s toy, maintaining its balance.

“And finally we end with our
reward—a dip in the wading pool.”

Wagging his tail, Sam climbed
inside the foot-deep, plastic kiddie pool and rolled in the water, cooling
himself off.

Jacob clapped. “That’s awesome.
We should enter you guys in
America’s Got Talent
.”

Nancy wiped sweat from her face.
“Pretty wild, huh? Spencer says it builds the dog’s confidence and self-esteem,
plus Sam will be a lot healthier if he loses ten pounds. And he loves it, don’t
you boy?”

The dog wagged its tail from
inside the pool, waiting for Nancy’s next command.

“How much did all this cost?”

“Nothing. Spencer is lending it
to us while Sam gets over his separation anxiety. Speaking of which, I have a
surprise for you inside.”

She led Jacob back inside the
house to the spare bedroom.

Nancy’s home office was gone,
replaced with a treadmill, bench press, and assorted dumbbells.

“You set up a gym?”

“I’d rather you joined a gym, but
I know you don’t like crowds. Jeanne’s friend had the equipment in her garage
and wasn’t using it, so it didn’t cost us a thing. And I’ll use it, too.”

“Um, thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Is this your way of saying I
need to lose weight?”

“It’s my way of saying you don’t
seem happy. By working out regularly you’ll feel better about yourself, less
anxious. Exercise stimulates your brain to release endorphins, engaging your
pleasure centers.”

“I’d rather just have sex.”

“We’ll have sex after you walk a
mile and do a few lifting exercises.”

“A mile?”

“Okay, half a mile. But do it at
a brisk pace.”

“You know, Nancy, this sounds
really great—but I don’t have any running shoes.”

“Check the closet. Size 10½
Nikes.”

“Thought of everything, did ya?”

Nancy kissed him. “I love you, Jacob,
and I want you to be happy. I gave Sam a chance. Try this. For me.”

He opened the closet door. Slipped
off his sandals and put on the white athletic socks and running shoes.

Unsure, he stepped onto the
treadmill.

Nancy started the machine, showing
him how to set his speed and incline. “How does it feel?”

“Feels pretty good.”
Like a
hamster on a wheel . . .

“You look great. Remember, half a
mile without stopping. I need to freshen up, Helen asked me out to dinner. Back
in a second!”

Nancy hurried into the master
bedroom, her adrenaline pumping.
This is great . . . we
can work out together, lose weight, stay in shape. He’ll be less anxious,
easier to deal with—plus he’s gained a good ten pounds since we’ve been living
together, so a little exercise can go a long way. Maybe he’ll get his confidence
back . . . get a job again with a major investment firm.
This is a win—win.

Nancy changed into a skirt,
heels, and a blouse. She brushed her teeth, touched up her make-up, spritzed a
shot of perfume across her shoulders, and then emerged from the master bedroom
to check on Jacob, three minutes and fifty seconds having elapsed.

He was gone.

“Jacob?” She hurried into the
kitchen, suddenly fearful.
He’s been depressed—is he suicidal?
She searched
the house . . .then found him lying in the kiddie pool—

—drinking a beer.

DOG
TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE

Lesson Eight: TOYS & ACCESSORIES

Helen Cope stared
at her reflection in the lighted passenger visor mirror. “Look at my eyes,
Nancy, it’s like they’re permanently bloodshot.”

“I didn’t want to say anything,
but you look exhausted.”

“Who wouldn’t be with my schedule?
Up at six every day to get the boys off to school, followed by four hours at
the real estate office. Then it’s grocery shopping and running errands before
picking the boys up at two. Clean the house; yell at them to do their homework
while I make dinner before driving them to another baseball game or hockey
practice or karate lesson. And weekends are just as bad. If it wasn’t for
caffeine and Vivance . . .”

“What about your social life?”

“Social life? You’re kidding,
right? Vinnie and I used to have a mandatory date night every Saturday, now we
come home from the boys’ games and fall asleep on the couch. Don’t get me
wrong, I love watching my sons’ compete, but tonight’s the first time in four
months I ate dinner with someone who wasn’t wearing a uniform.”

“What about . . . you
know—”

“Sex? Who has the time? I’m
usually in bed by nine-thirty, while Vin stays up all night watching
Netflix
.
Wanna know my biggest fear? In ten years Austin will be off to college, and
then it’ll be just me and Vin—except I’ll be going through menopause while
younger women continue to spread their legs in front of my husband, who by that
time should be going through his own mid-life crisis.”

Helen’s lower lip quivered.

“Hey, come on now. A double-X
never crawls back into her womb; a double-X attacks the problem. You’re a
beautiful woman, Helen Cope. What’s missing in your life is your Y.”

“I’m sorry; I’m not getting the
whole X -Y- Z deal.”

“The Y is You and your own
purpose for being. The Y is the man in your life who has forsaken his marital
commitment. Instead of treating you like a princess, Vin’s turned you into the
castle wench, the chauffeur and chef . . . the team
manager. Tonight, we’re going to change all that.”

“We are? How?”

“Behavior modification.”

“This is more of your dog
training stuff, isn’t it? That crap may work with your boyfriend, but Vincent
and I have been married fifteen years. Even a Twinkie has an expiration date.”

“Vin’s still a man, Helen, and
like most men he’s a creature of habit.”

“You got the creature right.”

“I’m serious. We need to shake
things up; we need to get Vin to look at you as his own personal sex
goddess—someone who’s suddenly come into possession of a forbidden carnal
knowledge that will ignite his loins. By the time we’re through, he’ll be chasing
you around the house like a panting dog begging for its master’s attention.”

“You’ve got me panting. So how do
we do all this?”

“Prong collars.”
* * * * *

Twenty minutes later
, Nancy turned off
the main road into a parking lot, a flashing pink neon sign reading:
SEX
EMPORIUM.

Helen followed her inside,
slipping on sunglasses to prevent someone from recognizing her. “I can’t
believe you actually brought us here.”

They walked through aisles of
triple-X DVDs, past display racks filled with inflatable dolls, vibrators,
dildos, and contraptions that dated back to the Renaissance.

Helen stared at a glass gizmo which
was equipped with a two pronged penis-shaped insertion. “Oh my God, do women
actually use these devices on themselves?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” A black
saleswoman approached, the masked female dressed in a leather Bat Girl outfit
and spiked heels. “Welcome to the world-famous Sex Emporium, home of the whopper
with sleaze. Can I interest you ladies in Dr. Z’s latest dual Nipple Pleaser?
The convenient Y-converter allows for simultaneous vacuum control and . . . 
Mrs.
C.?
”

“Wanda? You work here?”

“I’m one of the minority owners.
And no, that ain’t a black thing . . . well, actually I
guess it is, since it got me a small business loan.”

“Does Vin know about this?”

“Hell, yes. Who do you think he
comes to for the latest DVDs?”

“So, it’s not enough that my
husband dabbles in strange women’s vaginas all day, now he has to watch porn
too?”

“Listen, ya’ll don’t have to
worry about Dr. C., he’s what we call a sniffer.”

“I’m afraid to ask . . . but
what’s a sniffer?”

“Ever see a dog sniff another
dog’s ass? Looking at strange buck-naked old women with leaky vaginas all day
can affect a man’s libido. Watching porn helps Dr. C. achieve hootie balance
after sniffing dogs’ asses all day. It’s the quiet ones, like his brother Jacob
that you got to watch out for.” She turned to Nancy. “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

“I’m Nancy. The quiet one’s
girlfriend.”

“For real? Well . . . 
oh
shit.
” Wanda looked over Nancy’s shoulder. “Can I help you, Mrs. K?”

Helen and Nancy turned to find
Ruby Kleinhenz standing outside a dressing room. The Cougar was wearing a black
see-thru baby-doll negligee, her bra-covered breasts protruding through the
outfit’s open cups.

“Wanda, do you have this in red?
I need it for . . . 
Helen?
”

“Ruby?” Helen feigned being
pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here every week. The
question is—what are
you
doing here?”

“You know . . . this
and that. Have you seen Dr. C’s latest dual Nipple Pleaser? The convenient
Y-converter allows for simultaneous vacuum control.”

“You mean Dr. Z. Your husband’s
Dr. C., and I own two of them.”

Wanda stepped between them. “We
don’t have the teddie in red, but we just got in something hot—a Chemise with
nipple clamps and clit and anal loops, and I’m pretty sure it comes in red. Why
don’t ya’ll wait in the dressing room and I’ll bring you one to try on.”

“Perfect. Size 36-D.” She winked
at Nancy, then sashayed back to the dressing room.

Nancy’s face flushed bright red.
“Wanda, we’re gonna need a shopping cart.”

* * * *
*

At precisely 9:36
p.m., Vincent Cope
arrived home, having completed his one late night office shift for the week. Parking
his Lexus in the garage, he entered the kitchen carrying his briefcase and an
aching lower back.

“Hello?” He hung his keys on
their peg by the coffee maker. Checked the stack of mail on the counter.

“Helen? Boys?”

No reply.

Any empty house? Is it possible?

Heart pounding, he opened his
briefcase and removed the new DVD from its brown paper wrapper. “
Mary
Todd-Lincoln: Lesbian Hunter
. Probably more historically accurate than they
know.”

He dashed upstairs to the master
bedroom. Opened the door—and screamed!

Helen, dressed in a leather S
& M outfit, was lying above the four-post bed in a love swing.

“Helen? Have you lost your mind?”

“This
is
what you want,
isn’t it Vincent? To live out your fantasies?”

It’s a trap, it’s a trap don’t
say a word. Sweet Jesus, look at her tits! Propped up like ripe melons . . .

“Well? Don’t just stand there
gawking at me with your mouth hanging open, say something.”

“I, uh . . . nice
outfit. Is that new?”

“It came with the love swing.
Come closer, I won’t bite.”

His heart beating wildly, his
trousers tightening, Vincent Cope inched closer. “Love swing, huh? Good color.
Goes with the lamp shades.”
Jesus F-ing Christ, she shaved!

“Silly, it’s not a throw pillow,
it’s an accessory that allows you to move me while you thrust in and out . . . in
and out of my hot . . . wet . . . pussy.”

Vinnie broke into a cold sweat,
his voice high-pitched and stuttering. “Love swing . . . what
a great idea.”

“I hope you like it. Wanda tells
me it’s endorsed by Dr. Ruth.”

“Wa . . . Wanda?”

“You remember Wanda. Your own
personal
porn dealer
!”

He pivoted, attempting to hide
the DVD behind his back. “I . . . I . . . I
don’t know what you mean.”

“Lying to momma, huh? Just for
that, I’m going to beat your ass raw.” Wielding a leather riding crop from behind
her hip, Helen snapped it across Vinnie’s right hip.

“Ow! Are you crazy?”

“Shut-up and take off your
clothes.”

“Wait . . . for
real? Please say it’s for real, because if this is a joke—”

“The boys are sleeping over my
sister’s. Now get over here and ride me like a mule, you big dumb hairy
orangutan.”

“Oh, hell yes!” Vinnie kicked off
his shoes . . . “baby, you look unbelievable.” He quickly pulled
down his pants and underwear without unbuckling his belt. “God, I love you, I
love you so much. And I respect you. Totally.”

“Tonight you get to disrespect
me.”

“Oh dear God.” He tore off his
shirt without unbuttoning it—“Wanda’s definitely getting that raise, no pun
intended.”

—and rushed into his goddess’s
outstretched legs.

* * * *
*

“Come on, fat
boy, work up a good
lather! I want you nice and sweaty when you fuck me from behind.”