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Pawford Ch 5: It's Just a Skin Flick copyright 2012 comidacomida

The two days CJ and I spent out camping was a godsend. I was able to focus all my attention on the outdoors, hiking, fishing (I hadn't brought a pole, but CJ had two), and just hanging out with the Dog that had quickly and unequivocally become my best friend. Something about the rottweiler just seemed to make him approachable in a way that I'd never found anyone else to be.

Hanging out with him in the outdoors did a world of good... so much so that the fact that the weekend was practically half over really didn't seem to get to me. The sun was setting that Saturday as we rolled into town but we were laughing as if it were still Friday night. CJ pulled into the parking lot of the garage just as the OPEN sign was switched off. A brown-furred-and-pink-nosed face stared out from the window at us, and offered a friendly wave.

"Not in a hurry to get home, are ya?" CJ questioned, getting out of the truck, "Come on in for a few."

I let the rottweiler walk ahead as I took some time to gather my gear and move everything back to my car; by the time I joined the three Dogs in the garage they were laughing at a joke I'd apparently missed.

"And then..." Locker spoke up between chuckles, "he said 'I do not quite care for your tone of voice.'." and I had to admit, the pitbull did a very good impression of what could have only been Carl Parker, the man I'd had the 'pleasure' of meeting the last time I was in the garage.

"Tell him what happened next." Hoss elbowed the pitbull.

"I'm getting to it, Jesus!" Locker gave him a shove, "Slow the wag, Hoss!" and the pit glanced my way, "If you're looking for a better tone that'll cost extra!" he announced loudly in my direction, before looking back to the other Dogs, "That's what I said ta him."

"I missed something." I added, identifying myself as a neutral third party to the discussion. I had a pretty good idea what it was about, but I wasn't interested in offering my own two cents... I've never been much for the customer service kind of jobs so I was honest with myself that I was out of my element.

"You'll end up losing clients if you do that with everyone, ya know, Locker." CJ announced, but, based on the smirk he wore it didn't seem that the idea bothered him.

"Hey... when it comes to that jackass C.P. Esquire I'd be doing you a favor if I could keep him from comin' in here again." Locker flicked his thumb claw against one of his teeth, "fuckin' prick."

"He's not like this with all humans, Derek." Hoss offered in a playfully apologetic manner, giving Locker another light elbow.

The pitbull returned it with another shove, "How would you know, Hoss? How often d'you see me with humans, huh?"

"Well..." the lab shrugged, "Haven't seen ya raise yer voice t'Derek yet," he raised a finger, "throw three or more four letter words at'im without stoppin' ta breathe," he raised another, "threatened his life or his family's," Hoss held up a third, "or suggested he try somethin' anatomically impossible." the brown Dog grinned wide.

"Anatomic--" I began, but Locker was quick enough to spell it out for me.

"He means I haven't told ya to go fuck yourself." the pitbull translated.

"An' that don't count neither." Hoss added, "I think Locker's sweet on ya, Derek." he winked at me.

"And I think you've been drinking anti-freeze." Locker countered, giving the lab another shove, "He's got my respect is all." the pitbull glanced at me and gave a nod.

"I... do?" I asked, not exactly sure how to take the statement.

"Sure." he acknowledged, "First human in town I can remember who hasn't acted like a sanctimonious prick."

"Now spell it." Hoss suggested to the pitbull, and received a straight-arm punch to the shoulder in response.

"Fuck you." Locker countered, picking up a grease rag.

"Come again?" I inquired, "Did I miss something?"

CJ chuckled, leaning on the counter, "Believe it or not, Locker's had a few years of college. Hoss gives him grief about it all the time."

"Just cause I tow cars doesn't mean I have to be a dumb shit." the pit responded, heading into the garage, wiping his grime-covered paws off on the rag he held.

"He just gets angry cuz I don't pick on CJ the same way." Hoss grinned wide.

"You went to college?" I asked. At that moment I realized that I didn't know as much about CJ as I'd thought; we never even discussed school.

"Just a few associate degrees." he shrugged, "Nothing big."

"See?" Hoss asked of me, motioning to CJ, "It's no big deal ta him... Locker, though... he goes off like a rocket any time you bring up him bein' a brainiac... heh heh." and the lab's tail began wagging anew.

The lights going out in the back caught my attention just a handful of seconds before Locker returned to the front office. He focused his attention on CJ, "Thinkin' about heading over to Arizona's tonight... Mae's watching the ankle-biter so that means I got some guy-time comin'. Hoss already signed up-- how about you?" he finished wiping most of the smudges off his paws.

Arizona's seemed to be one of CJ's favorite hang-out spots when it came to drinks and good times. I wasn't surprised in the least to see the rottweiler's nub start going immediately and, barely a second later he glanced my way, "What'cha think? Hang out at Arizona's for awhile then I'll take you home?"

"It'll give Locker more time t'prove he don't hate humans." Hoss offered with a smirk, and received a thrown grease rag to the face.

"I don't hate humans, numb-nuts... I just hate rude. Ain't my fault 99% of the humans in Pawford are--"

"Spell it!" Hoss quickly interjected.

"...rude." the pitbull finished his comment, providing a broad-muzzled grin back at the lab. He glanced to CJ, "Honest though, CJ... your human's a bit of a bad fit here, don'cha think?"

"Bad fit?" I asked.

"Yea." Locker answered back, "I mean... you're probably the only human ever to be in this shop without some kind of social defect."

"It'd be funnier if weren't so true." Hoss acknowledged, tail slowing faintly, "And Locker should know... he hates humans." the tail picked up speed, right until he was punched in the shoulder.

"Damn it, Hoss... I don't hate humans!" Locker exclaimed, "I mean, Jesus... Derek here's a good guy..." he glanced at CJ, "Right?"

CJ nodded, but made no further comment. The discussion's focus gave me just a hint of concern... which grew.

"So you like Derek?" Hoss inquired, tail eerily still; that fact was even more cause for worry.

"Yea." the pitbull agreed, "He's as good a guy as the rest of the usual ones here are pricks."

"I knew it... you're sweet on him." the chocolate lab's wag returned full force. I stepped back in time to avoid a full-fledged wrestling match with Hoss laughing the whole time.

"And they haven't even been drinking yet." CJ explained, walking me out of the office, pausing only long enough to shout over his shoulder, "You're covering repairs, Locker! It's part of the lease agreement!" The chaos quickly ground to a halt.

I followed CJ back out to his truck, pausing only long enough to make sure my car was locked. Once we were back on the road he glanced over at me. I caught sight of his look out of the corner of my eye, "What?" I asked.

"You've never been out drinking with Hoss, have you?" he asked me.

"No." I replied, "Pretty much the only time I've been out drinking since I got here has been with you."

"Well..." he nodded thoughtfully, eyes on the road, "If he suggests a drinking match, drinking games, or anything else having to do with a contest of drinking, say no."

"When have you ever seen me play a drinking game?" I asked candidly.

"Never." he acknowledged with a nod, "but that doesn't mean you don't." he pointed out, "Anyway, Hoss has a way about him when he's at a bar."

"So I need to resist the temptation... got it." I acknowledged; I couldn't resist accompanying it with an eye roll. With nothing more to say, we continued onward to Arizona's, taking a route I wasn't all that familiar with.

Arizona's is one of those traditional bars you hear about but never really see in the big city... of course, if you grew up in a small town like I did it's pretty much a straight-shot back to your childhood. The kind of place I'm talking about isn't a night club, and it's not a dance hall... it's an honest-to-goodness, wooden-walled, country-style bar.

When you drive up to Arizona's you choose a spot in the gravel parking lot. The front of the building has two neon signs in the windows and otherwise the only light comes from the traditional light bulbs ringing the oval, hand painted sign identifying the building as "ARIZONA'S". The first time CJ suggested we go I almost missed it... but, since then, I've come to appreciate the laid-back nature of the place.

Despite the fact that Locker and Hoss had left the garage after us, the Locker's Towing truck was already at the bar when we pulled in. "He must drive like a maniac." I commented as I got out.

"Nah." CJ smirked, his tail nub wagging as he went for the wooden steps leading up to the place, "I just took the long way... figured it'd give them a chance to get started."

"You keep acting like I'm a lightweight." I shook my head, "I can hold my own."

"Not against Hoss and Locker you can't." he answered casually, and held the door open for me.

I walked in, casually brushing my middle finger across the top of my ear in CJ's direction; he didn't miss the gesture, and only laughed while following me in. It was a busy night, as most Saturdays usually are in the summer. Since Pawford has never been a very big city you come to recognize everyone pretty fast so it was safe to say that I knew almost everyone I saw immediately. Of course, being the newcomer to town, and a human at that, everyone knew me right away.

"Evenin', Derek!" was the first actual greeting I got other than a nod of a head or a perk of an ear. The speaker was Arizona, a Carolina Dog who, according to word around town, really is from Arizona. His name, Arizona-Sunrise, based on the stories I've heard, was given to him because his fur when he was born was the same color of the sand in the Arizona desert at dawn. Since I've never been to Arizona the stories really were all I had to go by. Based on the reddish tan color he's been ever since I'd first met him, I suppose I could have seen his puppy fur being sun-on-the-sand red.

I gave a quick wave to Arizona and went to join Locker and Hoss; they were seated at one end of the bar, already part-way into their drinks. I took a seat next to Locker's left and CJ sat to my left. Arizona was behind the bar that night, but he was working the far side of the counter; the bartender handling our corner was a no-nonsense blue heeler named Matty. She wasn't the nicest Dog I'd ever met, but she was good at mixing drinks, and that was usually enough for the bar-goers. She was fast enough to take our orders (a couple of beers), and then she was on her way to see to everyone else.

"There's NO WAY you two dated in high school, I'm just not gonna believe it, Hoss." Locker noted, sticking the end of his beer bottle into his muzzle and taking a swig, "Matty was probably one of those girls that everybody talked about wanting to get with, but when it came to asking her out they were all neutered puppies."

"Nothin' a'the sort." Hoss responded. He casually tilted his head back and emptied the last drops of his beer into his muzzle before setting the bottle next to another one already situated by his elbow, "She was actually a quiet lil' thing... a bit pudgy, an' shy as all get-out."

"Matty?" Locker glanced at the lab next to him, "SHY?" he looked like he was about to spray beer out of his nose, "Now I KNOW you're lying sack a shit, Hoss..."

"Actually..." CJ spoke up from my left, glancing around me to the pitbull, "I'm pretty sure she was Hoss' date to prom."

"Now you're both pulling my tail." Locker stated gruffly.

"Nope." Hoss announced proudly, accepting another beer as Matty meandered by, "Heya, Matty..."

"Evenin, Hoss." she answered just as cooly as ever, pouring a drink for a cocker spaniel at the end of the bar. She paused as she passed by us again, "Evenin, boys." she looked at each of us, "You're all wearin the 'I just know she gonna knock me off my stool for sayin this but... here goes anyway' look." she shifted her weight onto one leg, "alright... out with it."

"Did you REALLY date Hoss in high school?" Locker asked.

"For awhile." she acknowledged, crossing her arms, "Why?"

"Cuz he didn't believe me." Hoss responded with a wide smirk.

"Eats-Like-a-Horse, if I hear you're tellin' stories, god help me I'll--"

"Knock him off his stool?" CJ inquired.

Matty glanced at the rottweiler with a scowl, but she couldn't hold it for long (CJ has that way with people), "I might just do it too." she acknowledged; I remember thinking at the time that I saw a hint of a blush to the insides of her ears when CJ responded with a warm smile (like I said-- a way with people).

"And on that note..." Hoss grabbed his newest beer bottle as he stood up, "Think I'm gonna see how the pool's goin ta'night."

"Ask Matty," Locker replied flatly, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind wracking your balls."

The lab wandered off to play a few games of pool. He told us not to worry and that he'd find a ride home. Locker hung out with us, casually chatting about his day. He spent almost a half hour telling a humorous story about "this one ass-hat" who brought his car into the shop looking to get his glow plugs replaced. The story was entirely for my benefit, I could tell, since both Dogs knew I wasn't car-savvy. In the end, it was CJ who sprang the apparent punchline of the event.

"See... gas engines don't have glow plugs..." the rottweiler explained "only diesels do."

"Ah..." I acknowledged, smiling politely, "So the guy didn't realize that."

"Nah... you're missin' the point, Derek." Locker smirked, showing his gold tooth, "See... the thing is, not only was this sheath-leakage so sure that he needed a new glow plug, he actually had the rocks to tell me that I didn't know what I was talking about." he rolled his eyes, "fuckin mook."

"So... not only was he wrong, he was VERY wrong." I offered.

"Yep." Locker's grin widened and I saw his tail start to pick up speed.

"....and?" I could tell there was more.

"I told him the closest place that'd be able to help him out was in Lewiston." and Locker slapped the bar with a hearty laugh at that.

"I thought you guys have glow plugs at the garage." I glanced to CJ for confirmation of my assessment.

"We do." Locker acknowledged, finishing off his drink to drown his chuckles. He wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw, "I sent him to Lewiston because they have a good psych clinic... and that's the kinda help he needs."

The pitbull's stories continued for a good hour. By that time he'd finished his third beer and, with a glance at his watch, Locker sighed, "Well... looks like I'm due back home here pretty soon."

CJ smirked, "So much for Mae handling Dot tonight, huh?"

"Hey... she's a pawful, amico..." Locker grinned, "'sides... if I come to her rescue then she'll owe me one." and he winked with a chuckle, "and lemme tell you... you-owe-me sex is the best kind."

"Hm..." I mused, "Everyone I heard always said make-up sex is the best kind."

"Nah..." Locker's grin widened, "you-owe-me sex is better because you don't have to piss her off first."

"Besides..." CJ took his turn to grin, "Make-up-sex is the norm for Thumb-Locker... it's good to change it up now and again."

"You're one lucky fucker, CJ." Locker snorted,"If you weren't my land lord... and if that weren't true..." we all shared a laugh at that one.

The rottweiler and I spent another hour at the bar, mingling, chatting, and reintroducing ourselves to the sights and sounds of being around others after our weekend in the woods. I'd finished off my fifth beer, but I figured I was doing pretty well since I'd also had an order of fish and chips and a few handfuls of pretzels. CJ had a few more than I had, and paused when I stared at him on the way to his truck, "What?" he asked.

"Are you drunk?" I demanded.

He rolled his eyes in response, "No... we were in there for almost three hours and we both ate..." he paused, giving me a once over, "Are you saying YOU'RE drunk?"

"No... but you drank more than I did." I pointed out.

"Alright, officer!" he chided, turning to regard me, "So are you suggesting we go find somewhere to get our blood alcohol levels checked?"

"Well..." I paused, "We could always give each other a sobriety test." I laughed.

"Jesus, Derek," CJ laughed, "How about we try even safer and we'll just walk back to my place."

"The reports say that walking drunk can be just as bad as--" I started to point out, but he interrupted.

"Damn it, Derek, we aren't even drunk!"

I laughed in response, "Alright... fine." I relented, "I don't work tomorrow and you'll probably wake up with a hangover--"

"Fuck you, monkey." We both laughed all the way back to his place.

CJ's house was a simple ranch-style home... maybe 1500 square feet total. The porch was one of the old style covered ones where the roof stretched out all along the front of the building. There were two steps leading up to the porch and then another step that led up to the door. He went ahead, having a better knack for negotiating the steps in the dark than I did, and he courteously turned on the porch light for me. He held the door open for me, and closed it behind us once I had entered.

The inside of CJ's place, I had learned, had been decorated by his mom and dad; he had inherited the house after they moved. The furniture looked like something out of a modern-western tv show including a tacky rearing-horse table lamp, but, all in all it wasn't bad... not that I'm an interior designer or anything, but it did have a distinct rustic feel.

"Feel free to hang out... I'm gonna change real fast." he offered, and headed down the hallway. I took the opportunity to look around the living room; the flat screen and his stereo system stuck out-- it was easy to tell what touches he made to the room compared to the late 1970s everything-else. I was just checking out the novelty of the combination VHS/DVD player when I heard a loud THUNK from the back room, followed by a growling explicative.

"Everything okay back there?" I called, glancing down the hall.

"Fine." CJ responded, "Some jerk left his dirty clothes basket on the edge of his bed when he left for camping at the beginning of the weekend." He passed by the half-open door and I turned away, but not before catching a momentary glimpse of the tan fur along his chest that was normally hidden beneath his clothing; I felt myself blush from the inadvertent peek. I'm not sure what it is, but something about seeking the less-often noticed fur color of a Dog has always had that effect on me. I busied myself inspecting a collection of small cowboy figurines in a knicknack cabinet until he came back out and joined me in the living room.

"So," he asked with a smirk, "Still drunk?"

"I'm not drunk!" I objected, and his grin widened, "You son of a bitch." I scowled.

"Not such a good insult when used on a Dog there, monkey." he smirked, smoothing out the plain white t-shirt he was wearing, "It's kinda a given."

The movement of his paw across his shirt suddenly reminded me, "I don't have any clothes... they're all back in your truck."

CJ shrugged in response, "No problem... I have some old shirts you can sleep in if you're one of those uptight people that have a problem passing out in the buff."

"I'm not uptight... I just don't want to be cold if I have to get up in the middle of the night." I countered.

"Good reason to grow more fur." he chided.

"Easy for you to say... you're a Dog." I pointed out, "Humans are a little more restricted in that department."

"Damn, Derek..." he grinned, "between the poor night-vision, the bad hearing, the poor sense of smell, AND being furless, you humans really DO have it bad."

In retaliation I punched his shoulder. He responded with a punch back. It escalated from there until I hurled myself right at him; I considered it was the ultimate checkmate move... it worked well enough for me in college... but at that point I had grossly misjudged not only our weight difference, but also CJ's wrestling skill (he showed me a wrestling trophy... after the fact, of course). I was held in the air for all of two seconds, my forward momentum completely stopped, and then he casually turned and chucked me onto the sofa.

I soared through the air with all the grace of a belly-flopping quadriplegic (no offense to any quadriplegic out there), bounced off the sofa and almost knocking it over in the process. I found myself launched back into the air where I hovered for nearly a half-second... and then fell down onto the carpet with enough of a thud that I was left stunned. It wasn't a knock-out by any means, and it wasn't as bad as having the wind knocked out of me, but CJ certainly was good at taking advantage of the few moments... and the fat bastard sat on me.

I was just about to object to being used as a stool when my attention suddenly shifted to a bright pink box situated on the carpet next to me. "What--?" I asked, reaching out to grab the VHS cassette box.

"Oh... that's-..." CJ choked atop me, "...nothing."

I rolled beneath him until I was laying on my back and brought the tape out into clearer view, "'Dr Stan's Hands on Guide: The Human Female'." I read the title and glanced to him, holding it up, "Dr Stan's Hands on Guide?" I asked, unable to stop my self, I continued, "The Human Female?"

CJ quickly avoided meeting my gaze as he rubbed the back of his head, "It's... nothing."

"Nothing?" I asked, pressing the advantage, "It certainly looks like something to me."

"It's just a skin flick." he explained.

"Yea... but I thought Dogs were more into Fur Flicks." I offered.

"There are plenty a fur flicks in there." he objected, "Tied Up in Knottingham... Bark-Back Mountin'... Doggie-Style Doggie-Style..."

"But this one is human porn." I pressed.

"I was..." he faltered, "...curious."

"God damn, CJ..." I chided, "I had no idea you were such a raunchy rotty."

"It's not that bad!" he defended himself, sliding off of me and getting back to his feet, "It's just erotica... it's barely even real porn."

"Just erotica... 'barely' even real porn..." I smirked from my place on the ground.

CJ snatched the tape out of my paws, "Off the floor... on the couch... I'll prove it." he announced, popping open the cover and pulling out the tape.

"Prove it?" I stood up.

"Yea." he acknowledged, turning on the movie player and sliding the tape in, "It's barely midnight... I'll show you... now take a seat."

Not exactly knowing what else to say, I sat. Once CJ had the tape in the VCR and pressed play, he came over and collapsed onto the couch. The sofa could fit three people, but the rottweiler didn't leave a cushion between us like I had expected; he sat right next to me. His television was skewed more toward my side of the room so I didn't really think much of it at the time. "It's not one of the four-X ones." he continued defending his choice in movies.

"Tastefully done, huh?" I asked, feeling just a little awkward when he leaned against me, throwing his legs up across the sofa.

"Well... it was an experiment... I mean, it's not like I'd seen a lot of naked humans and I was a little curious." His glances toward me were only casually noticed as the movie started playing and the paper-thin premise that was supposed to serve as a plot also failed to create ny real interest. Of course... what DID catch my attention was the rustling of CJ loosening his shorts and, after... well... by the time he casually slid his paws under them let's say that I honestly hadn't seen that plot twist coming. What came next was even more of a shock.