The Personal Assistant

He caught my eye as soon as he entered the classroom. Most of the other students were women and seemed to be comfortable with each other and their dogs. It was a night-class dog grooming class. He—his name turned out to be Cal—stuck out like a sore thumb. For one thing he was somewhat of a bruiser. He was good looking enough—in fact very good looking in a bodybuilder, square jaw, dark looks way. But he was tattooed like a biker and had that rough look about him in other ways. For another he brought a large, black poodle with him, and he handled the dog like it wasn't his and like he didn't have the foggiest idea why the poodle had come in with him.

I never got a last name for him because he wasn't even registered for the class.

"Look under Jim Causey," he said when I approached him with a clipboard. I trembled a bit as I approached, because he both intimidated and aroused me. This was just the sort of man I sought out when I was between boyfriends. I was always on the lookout for a longer-termed relationship in a boyfriend, but when I was between these relationships, none of which had worked out for me, I found myself seeking out one-night stands with a bigger man. At those times I wanted a man who would manhandle me and leave me panting and moaning and unable to close my legs. I wanted to know I'd been totally fucked.

"Yes, I have a Jim Causey," I said. "Is that also you?"

He gave me a look that started mean, like he didn't like to be challenged, but then softened when it seemed like he actually looked at me for the first time. "No, that's Jim Causey rolling in now. I'm just Cal, his personal attendant."

"His personal attendant?" I asked, as I now saw that, indeed, a middle-aged man in a wheelchair had rolled into the classroom and moved over to the side.

"Yeah, I do pretty much everything for Mr. Causey. He's got the money to continue to live alone. And it looks like I'm going to be doing Sid for him too, just like I do him."

I took a quick look at the man in the wheelchair. He was trim despite apparently have no use of his legs. When Cal's look had softened when he gave me the once over I was sure I recognized that look. I'd gotten it often enough—the look of sexual interest. So, was he telling me that Causey was his sugar daddy? That Causey paid Cal's way and Cal took care of Causey in all ways—and of this Sid too, whoever he was?

"Sid?" I asked.

"The pooch," Cal said. "This fancy dog, whatever kind it is. This is Sid."

The poodle was crouched by Cal, looking as scared of Cal as I thought Cal had been of the dog when they came in.

"Have you handled dogs before?" I asked.

"I thought I'd handled just about everything," Cal said, giving me a searching look again—a look of checking out possibilities?—"but I ain't ever done a dog before."

The first thing that came to mind was, well, that's good. You could go to jail for doing a dog. I nearly laughed at that, but then it struck me that Cal presented just like the inmates had in the special class I'd taught at a prison, a vocational class in giving inmates skills they could use on the outside. A slightly touchy demeanor with more than a touch of challenge and bad ass to it.

"You sure you want to do this, then?"

"You teachin' the class?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I want to do this." I took that as confirmation of his interest—but maybe more in me than the class. I wondered if his sugar daddy knew he was on the make with other men. It sort of gave me a jolt, though, that it might be me. He was just the kind of bruiser I was in the mood for—in a temporary, one-night way. Or one afternoon. Or just a half hour on top of the table here after the rest of the class had left.

Cal surprised me in the class. He had an intimidating demeanor and big hands, but his hands weren't clumsy, and over the two-hour class both he and Sid became comfortable with each other. Sid seemed apprehensive about the whole situation, but the dog was thoroughly cowed by Cal, and when Cal put his hands on the dog and moved it into this position or that as the grooming required, the dog obeyed. It would be skittish right up until Cal put his hands on it and then it would settle down, trembling slightly.

I trembled slightly myself at seeing Cal do that, and I'll readily admit that I thought of the big bruiser of a tattooed man doing that to me as well. He was prime one-night-stand material.

Jim Causey didn't just sit back and watch during the session. He was right up there with Cal, watching his every move and giving him encouragement and talking to the dog. The two men obviously had a relationship going, one that I envied.

"You got dogs too?" Cal asked me near the end of the class.

"Yes," I answered. "I have a few Maltese. I show those. I have a poodle bitch too. Smaller than Sid. I don't show her, but I breed her. She's good stock."

"Seems strange to have those two kinds, even if both are of the limp-wristed variety," he said. "Aren't Maltese a yappy little dog. And poodles—"

"Maltese can be a bit yappy, yes, but poodles are smart dogs which started out as hunting dogs," I answered, resisting noting that he himself had come in with a poodle. "The poodle was left behind after a relationship that went bad. I didn't mind. I liked the dog much more than I liked him." I nearly froze when the "him" came out. I was revealing more than I had intended to.

I looked up to see a slight smirk on Cal's face. "I knew I was right," he said in a low voice.

I just blushed. There didn't seem to be anything to say to either try to cover up or expand on the slip about having had a relationship with a male.

"Know a good place to exercise them on Saturday mornings?" he asked, smoothly switching gears. "I don't like the thought of Sid being cooped up all the time. He's a big dog; he needs to be able to run regularly. All big animals need to be able to run free."

I felt a bit of a chill going up my back, my first thought being of a hunk like him running free—running naked. I tried to concentrate on the canine aspect of what he'd said. I was surprised that he showed such concern for the dog and, before thinking better of it, said so.

"No one—man nor animal—should be cooped up," he repeated, with an edge of vehemence. "It just ain't right."

This only made me think again about that class I taught at the prison.

"I take my dogs to West Side Park occasionally on Saturday mornings," I answered. "They have an off-the-leash area at that time."

"You'll be there next Saturday?"

"I suppose I might."

"And bring the poodle bitch."

One of the other students broke in to ask a question before I could answer or ask about that, and when I finished talking to her, Cal was wheeling Jim Causey out of the room, with Sid trotting beside him, both Cal and the dog seeming much less skittish than when they'd come into the classroom.

I went home humming. I don't know whether it was because I considered any class where a master and dog had melded as well as Cal and Sid had a victory or it was because Cal was my ideal image of a one-night stand and had shown interest to me.

I didn't, of course, have any intention of going to the park with Starbright, the zany name my spaced-out, once-significant other had tagged the poodle bitch with, but almost like a zombie, I loaded her up and drove out to the park on Saturday morning.

Cal and Sid were there, in West Park, Sid already off the leash and running around the dog run area, when we got there. We were the only ones who showed up.

The day was hot, the sun beating down on us, and I found Cal sitting on a blanket under some trees at the verge of the meadow Sid was cavorting in. He was wearing shorts and sandals. He'd taken off his T-shirt. My impression that he was a bodybuilder was borne out by his muscular and cut torso. The tattooing I had seen running up his arms continued on the chest and back and down onto his legs in a riot of color.

"Let her off the leash and sit down here with me," he said when I arrived.

It no longer was the teacher, me, giving instruction to him. He was in command. I fell right in with this change. It was, after all, what I had dreamed of in the four days since the class, while all along I was telling myself I wouldn't show up on Saturday—that he had my telephone number through the school and could pursue me a bit if he really was interested.

But I wasn't kidding myself. I knew all along that if he wanted me, he could have me, and that I melted to a man who took control. This, I was only beginning to realize, was the problem with the long-term boyfriends I had tried. They related to me as equals and all were attentive to my needs. That was all well and fine, but it paled against my arousal to a man who just took me because he wanted me—and who had the cock to keep me pinned down.

I let Starbright off the leash, and she took off into the meadow and was tearing around with Sid in no time at all.

I sat down beside Cal, and he leaned in close to me. We spoke for a few minutes about I knew not what—something to do with the class and pointers he wanted to understand better. It was just nervous small talk—on my part at least. I kept looking around for other dogs and owners to show up, but none did. Cal didn't seem nearly as nervous as I was. He just crept closer until he had an arm around me.

I couldn't even have told where the transition was in his putting his hands on me—in a possessive way—pulling my T-shirt over my head, and turning my mouth to his for a controlling kiss that took my breath away. I was trembling at the strong grip of his hand on my waist and then inner thigh, and then cock. He was stroking me hard and still possessing me with a kiss, and I was breathing hard. It was all him, controlling me. Just as I wanted in a one-night stand.

When we pulled out of the kiss, with me already pulled over into his lap and able to feel the insistent hardness of him, I looked out into the meadow.

Starbright was standing perfectly still and Sid had mounted her and was breeding her.

"Look, Cal, we've got to stop that!" I cried, struggling to get up. But Cal was holding me fast in his lap.

"Let them have their fun. She obviously wants it," Cal answered. "All creatures should be free to do what makes them happy. Just like you and I are gonna do. You see that. See how big and pink that stud's cock is? I'm gonna do you just like Sid is doin' that bitch of yours."

I didn't deny that he was. I just moaned.

He pushed me forward on all fours then, pulled my shorts down low on my thighs, had his cock out and crowned, and mounted and slid into me. I moaned and groaned as he became fully saddled. He held there, not moving, but deeply sheathed, until I started panting hard and begging him to fuck me. Then he laughed and set the cock in motion, fucking me hard and deep as we watched Sid breeding Starbright.

I breathed hard but held steady, just as Starbright did, knowing full well that this was exactly what I wanted, a hard-bodied man who knew who he was and what he wanted, moving a long, thick cock inside me. Taking me roughly, naturally, fully, in total control.

* * * *

I was panting hard, lying on my back at the edge of my bed, with Cal between my thighs, holding my legs up and out, his pelvis making rapid undulations as he fucked me. I had already come, spouting up onto my belly, and he was working on it. He was looking intensely down into my face, but I was watching the play of his tattoos with the expanding and contracting of the muscles of his chest during his exertions. He was deep inside me, throbbing and pistoning me. I contracted the muscles of my channel in his cock, arched my back, and cried out "Now, now, now!"

I could feel him jerk and come, filling out the bulb of the condom. He pulled out of me immediately and turned and sat on the bed next to me. My own legs reached for the floor at the foot of the bed. He looked down at me and gave me a smirk.

"That was good. I like what you did there—to make me come." He bent down, messed around in the pockets of the trousers he'd dropped on the floor below the bed, and came up with a pack of cigarettes and some matches. He lit up, sitting there, legs spread and elbows on knees, and inhaled and exhaled a couple of times. My instinct was to make a comment about the cancer he was exhaling into the air in my place with that smoke, but I didn't say anything. It all went with the package that made me melt to him.

He'd left me there on the ground Saturday morning, just two days earlier, zipping up his shorts and padding out onto the field to retrieve Sid, who had also finished breeding Starbright. Hadn't said a thing. He'd taken hold of me and fucked me as naturally as Sid had mounted Starbright—just like it was the most natural thing to do. No emotional entanglements at all. Knowing that I wanted him and would just hold steady on all fours while he breeded me too.

I sat up half dazed, but well fucked, and watched him go to the parking lot, get into a black Escalade that had been parked there when I drove in in my Camarro, and peel out of the park. I thought that would be the last I'd see of him, him fulfilling my idea of a tough-guy one-night stand.

The first thing I'd done when I got home was to go online trying to find the pedigree of his poodle. It hadn't been that zany that I'd let him fuck me in the park. I had practically rolled over and begged for it back in class. What had been zany was letting his dog fuck mine. I bred her for the money her pedigree pups brought in. I found, though, that the lines for Jim Causey's poodle were as good as Starbright's own, so I wasn't fucked there, if the breeding had taken. I'd saved a stud fee.

I thought briefly that I should have paid Cal a stud fee because he had taken care of me so well. I almost regretted that he was one-night-stand material.

But then I'd answered a ring at the door of my house on Tuesday afternoon, and there he was.

"Been thinkin' of you since Saturday," he said.

I looked past him to the driveway. He was driving a beat-up old Dodge Ram today. I decided the Escalade must have been Jim Causey's car.

"I didn't expect to see you again," I said.

"I didn't expect it either," he replied.

"So," I said.

"So, do you want me to fuck you here in the doorway, or do you have a bed?"

When he put it that way, how could I refuse? We kissed and groped each other in my bedroom, at the foot of my bed. The dogs had watched us with curiosity as he followed me through the house to the bedroom, but I shut them out. They were used to watching my boyfriends fuck me, but that had never been rough play. I expected this to be rough, and I didn't want any of them to get the wrong idea and to take a chunk out of Cal's buttocks when I was screaming and squirming under him.

He had pushed me down hard on the foot of the bed with a shove of the heel of his hand to my sternum, and I'd watched him strip his clothes off. I was just wearing shorts, and he had no trouble jerking them and my briefs off my legs. He was more than half hard. And, with him, half hard was breathtakingly enough.

With no discussion or preliminaries of any type, he came up on the bed, straddled my chest; grabbed my wrists with his fists, forcing my arms above my head and wide; and arched his chest over my head, pressing the bulb of his cock at my lips. I opened my mouth to him, and he face fucked me, making me gag and groan while he stroked and filled out.

Again, without saying anything, he moved right into crouching between my thighs, with one hand on my throat, holding me to the bed, and the fingers of the other one opening my channel up with the help of spit. My legs were running up his chest. I was gasping for breath, my eyes bugging out, and staring into his face. He let loose of my throat and pulled his fingers out of my hole, grabbed my ankles, raised and jerked my legs painfully spread wide, and went right to fucking me. I had no idea when he'd rolled the condom on.

He fucked me hard, forcing himself right inside me and pistoning hard and deep. He pumped my legs back and forth, in to his hips and then brutally wide out as he punched his cock up into me, to the rhythm of his stroke. I jerked and grunted, my torso coming off the surface of the bed with each thrust, and I wondered if I'd be able to walk the next day. But I didn't care. I was vocal enough that the dogs were barking and scratching at the bedroom door. I was glad I'd closed them out.

"Do you always fuck this way?" I asked him after he was done and was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, as I lay behind him, my arm around his waist, my hand encasing the root of his cock.

"You learn to be quick about it in prison. It goes on all over the place, but mostly on the sly."

I nearly gasped. I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't prepared to have been right.

He turned toward me and leaned over, his eyes searching my face for my reaction to that revelation. I reached up with a hand and traced the tattooing on his chest.

"Is that where you got the tattoos too?"

"You have plenty of time to collect those in prison," he answered.

"How long have you been out?"

"Two months. I was in more for who I was associated with than for what I did."

"And Jim Causey waited for you?"

"Just hooked up with him. He's my work release arrangement. I'm his personal attendant. Like I told you."

"I thought he was your sugar daddy or something. That personal attendant was something very personally applied."

"I don't fuck him, if that's what you mean. I jack him off when he needs it and let him blow me when he wants."

Somehow I didn't see the difference. Causey kept him for sex.

"Look. He was the work release situation I was assigned to for my probation."

"And you take care of all of his personal needs, plus you groom his poodle for him."

"The grooming was part of the deal. I have to do community service for six months, while I'm on probation. Causey hooked me up with a no-kill dog rescue center. I can do my community service by grooming dogs there. He said it would be one of the easier ways to do community service and it seems right to me. I'd rather deal with pooches than with people. I haven't been very good in dealing with people."

"But Causey would like you to stay on with him after the six months, I'll bet, and I'll also bet that you're willing to do that."

"Listen, I came here to fuck, not to play twenty questions. You tired of doin' that? I have other places I could be."

"You know I'm not tired of it—well, I am; you've worn me out. But that doesn't mean I want it to stop. But you don't have to leave at all. I can offer you the same deal as Causey is doing for this six months. I can hook you up with dog grooming credits for community service. You can be my personal attendant."

"I can attend you right now," he growled. "Pull up onto the bed on your belly."

I did so as he put his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand and rolled on another condom.

Once more he showed me both that he didn't much care for conversation and that I was weak enough to take his fucking anyway I could get it, as he straddled my buttocks, slid back into me, and, leaning his chest over my back with his weight on the heels of hands placed on either side of my shoulders, began to pump me hard and deep again.

After he'd ejaculated again, I was still so half blotto from the hard fucking he'd given me that I just laid there and watched him light up the cigarette again and then, when he'd finished it, pull on his shorts and sandals and move over to and open the bedroom door. My dogs rushed right past him to ensure I was OK, and by the time I got them off me, he was gone.

And he was gone for six months. He not only had doubled the one-night stands I had with big, dominating bruisers like him, but he also had taken a chunk of my heart. Maybe one night was all I could afford with someone like him. Perhaps I grew too attached to and needy for men who could give me what Cal did. Anyway I moped for a couple of months, tried to forget about him for a couple of months, and slowly was on the way to do so for a couple of months.