Candice
I scooted over to the right side of the bed, swung my legs around, and sat up. My husband, Grant, was already huddled under the covers on the left side of the bed, his back to me. As I stood up and walked over to the dresser across from our bed, Grant mumbled from under the covers. "Where you going, Candy?"
"Thought I'd go down to the gym for a bit."
"Have fun." I opened the top drawer on the right side of the dresser and pulled out my loose jogging shorts, grey sports bra, and a loose grey tank top. By the time I closed the drawer, Grant was sound asleep.
I looked into the mirror above the dresser. It didn't make sense to me. Was I that unattractive to him? My red mane was short and a bit shaggy, but he always told me he liked my hair like that. I looked down at my chest and stomach. Okay, so I wasn't completely tone and washboard. You can't be a larger frame woman and 5'10" with DD cups and look like a skinny supermodel. But I took care of myself. I ate healthy foods. I jogged everyday. I went to the gym at least a couple of times a week.
I ran a paw across my stomach. Most of my fur was a husky grey, while my belly and under-muzzle was a soft white with just the lightest hint of auburn. It was then that I spotted it. A grey strand of fur, right below my left breast. I sighed. Maybe that explains why he only wants me when I'm in heat.
He wants a baby. He told me so himself.
Any other time, though, he sits on the recliner in the living room while I'm on the loveseat, alone. Our meals are eaten in silence or in front of the television. I'm 33. He wants a baby. But maybe he doesn't want me.
I shook the thoughts from my head and carried my clothes to the bathroom. Using some soap and a wet sponge, I wiped down my chest and legs, cleaning up the remnants of our sex. Grant calls it sex. I've started calling it "lying there until he's done," at least to myself. I dressed, put on my tennis shoes, slipped my keys into the pocket of my shorts, and stretched for a few minutes before going to the apartment complex's gym.
The cool midnight air pushed against my flesh and fur as I jogged. The smells of the approaching autumn and the sharp chill in the air invigorated me by the time I got to the gym. I used my apartment key to unlock the door, then scanned the room for signs of anyone else. I'd taken to going to the gym late at night when I'm in heat. Less chance of causing problems for me or anyone else.
I didn't see anyone. I did, however, pick up a strange scent in the air. It was very faint, just a hint of musk mixed in with the usual smell of air freshener and sweat. Shrugging it off as my imagination, I walked over to one of the treadmills, thinking only of doing that for a few minutes before I hit the small weights and the rowing machine.
The wall in front of the treadmills was almost entirely mirrors. I never understood why gyms did that. I really didn't want to see how good everyone else looked in comparison to me. Which is another good reason to come late at night, I told myself with a snicker.
And that was when I saw him. Apparently he'd been on one of the rowing machines in the back. Must have been why I missed seeing him when I came in. I quickly tore my eyes away, but the image of his body burned into my mind. He had to be about 6'4" or so, broad shoulders, and charcoal black-grey fur with a long matching mane that fell loosely against his naked chest. I'd seen him around the complex a few times, but never really took the time to notice him. I held my breath. I risked taking another glance.
He was wearing a pair of denim shorts but was otherwise naked. And it wasn't that he was a stud or muscular. In fact, he had a small little belly. But there was this aura about him...something soft and strong and commanding. His arms were well defined without looking grotesque or insane. And his paws...The moment I looked up, I saw his paws grab a towel, and all I could think about was how large and strong those paws looked.
And then he looked up and saw me. I glanced down immediately, praying he didn't say anything, hoping he would just walk away. Sweat beads slid down my face as I realized the source of the musk when I first got here - he was in rut! And me being here probably wasn't helping matters any. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him in the mirror looking at me. The lust was in his green eyes - that much was apparent. But there was something else. Interest? Desire? Attraction? He grinned. Oh, god...he thinks...I'm cute. I felt my hips swaying in time with each step I took. I looked down and closed my eyes, afraid my body would betray me further.
Aside from the sound of the treadmill, the room was silence. I turned off the treadmill and listened carefully, hoping to hear him leaving. His voice in my ear startled me as I realized he was standing to my side. "Hi. Name's Michael." His voice was a soft and soothing baritone with a slight growl.
I swallowed. "Candice."
I risked a glance in the mirror and saw him blushing. "Sorry, I don't usually do this. I just - I've seen you around the complex and just wanted to say hello." His paw touched my arm.
Shock waves traveled through me. I gripped the sides of the treadmill, afraid my knees were no longer trustworthy. I heard a slight metallic groan behind me. Then I felt Michael's strong paws resting on my hips. I moaned at his touch as I shivered. "Candice? Are you okay?" he asked, his breath warm on my ear.
Candice, I thought. He called me Candice. Most of my friends, even my husband, called me Candy. I didn't mind my friends calling me that; we'd known each other for so long that having nicknames for each other was inevitable. And usually I didn't mind Grant calling me that either. But I liked the name Candice. I thought it had a sweet, professional appeal to it. And now, this stranger, this person I knew only by sight, said it with such concern and emotion and just a touch of lust that I found myself leaning into him. "I'm fine."
I was more than fine. His strong arms wrapped around me to support me. And to this day I don't think it was his intention, but I could also feel his rather appreciative bulge against my thigh. "Michael," I heard my voice whisper as I leaned my head towards him. And he kissed me.
Just like his touch, there was no malice or demand, just pure electricity. He broke the kiss after a moment. "Sorry about that," he said with a sheepish chuckle.
Emboldened both by his kiss and the beautiful sound of his small, brief laugh, I kissed him in return, my tongue flicking briefly against his muzzle. The rational part of my head screamed for me to stop, yelled that I had a husband and a life and that this wasn't me, that I wasn't a cheap harlot or living in some romance novel where the stud seduces the heroine and the two of them live happily ever after humping like minks.
But at that moment all my insecurities seemed not to matter. Here was a person who wanted me as is, even if just for a moment. And I needed that. My body made the decision for me. I shifted a bit so that his bulge rubbed against my rump as my tongue slipped into his mouth of its own accord.
And that was it. Michael's body pulled for just a moment. I tried to turn around fully, but before I could I heard something fall to the floor. Michael's now naked body wrapped itself around me as his slowly kissed his way down to the nape of my neck. "Oh, Candice," he growled into my flesh and fur before lightly biting my neck.
My hands let go of their death grip on the treadmill as I tried to pull off my shirt, wanting nothing more than to feel as much of Michael's body against me as possible. He sensed my shift and let go of my neck. His charcoal paws rested on my grey ones, helping me pull off my shirt and bra. The moment my top was discarded, his paws enveloped my breasts as his mouth returned to my neck and shoulders.
Grant was not a small man, but he was only six feet and had rather small paws. I marveled at how perfectly Michael's hands held my breasts, massaging them as his leathery pads rubbed and teased my nipples. A bit of pre-cum dribbled from his erection on to my leg as it brushed against me. "Michael...please..." I moaned as I leaned a bit over the front of the treadmill.
Needing no further encouragement, his left paw fell from my breast and moved my loose shorts to the side. The fabric rubbed against my moist swollen labia as he pushed it aside. His right hand pulled against my breast, his left hand on my thigh to keep my shorts out of his way. Then Michael arched his back and slid himself inside me.
I moaned as he leaned against me, his weight pushing on my back. His hind paws moved inside of mine, keeping me spread open for his invasion. Once he was fully inside me, his left hand let go of my shorts to explore my hips, labia, and clit. My paws reached behind me, grabbing his hips to pull him deeper into me. Michael met me thrust for thrust, his weight keeping me bent over as his arms held me up and supported me.
My growls and groans echoed across the gym. I remember thinking briefly what the weight limit was for the treadmill, wondering if we would break it. Then Michael pushed his way into my womb and I no longer cared. Making sure I was adequately braced, Michael switched paws. His right paw massaged my clit in a circular motion while one of the claws from his left paw slowly traced a spiral from the outside of my left areola to the very tip of my nipple. The moment the claw caressed my nipple tip, my body bucked. My hands immediately let go of Michael's hips and grabbed the treadmill handholds. My back arched as a silent orgasm ripped through me.
As I came down from my orgasm, I could feel Michael start to cum. I heard myself growl at the feeling of his length pulsing and spraying inside me. But I craved more. It was then that I felt his knot pushing against the entrance to my body. Michael put his paws on mine and stopped, as if asking my permission. Then I suddenly felt him stiffen. He touched my paws for the first time...and felt my wedding and engagement rings. For the first time in my life, I berated myself for not taking them off. I wanted to explain that my marriage was a sham. I wanted to tell Michael that I enjoyed this moment with him more than the last two full years of my marriage. I wanted to make him understand that I needed this and wanted this and I would not hold him responsible. But all I could do was pant and push against him.
Michael's instincts kicked in and he pushed the knot inside me. The sheer force of the push and the way it stretched my opening made me cum again. And still he thrust into my canine body, my tail trapped between my back and his chest as he mounted me, his body claiming me as his own and my body tightening on him to claim him in return. Deep inside I knew our minds would never hold us to the claim our bodies made, but we made them all the same.
The knot finally erupted. My eyes nearly rolled into my head as I collapsed against the treadmill's deactivated console. Michael's back rested on top of me, his hot breath panting in my ear.
I don't know how long we stood there. The next thing I remember was Michael slowly pulling out of me and helping me down to the floor. Then I remember a damp cloth wiping my face and chest. "Candice? Are you alright?" Michael's concerned voice called to me.
"Yeah," I nodded. "It's just been a long time since I had an orgasm like that. I'll be fine." I felt a smile spread across my face as I looked into Michael's eyes.
He handed me a clean, damp cloth. "I thought you might want to...wash up a bit," he said, his face turning away from me a bit.
"Thank you." I took the rag from him.
"I cleaned up the treadmill and the floor, too, so that's taken care of." Then he paused, looking at me but avoiding my eyes. "Candice, I didn't know...I'm..."
I placed a claw against his mouth to silence him. "I know, Michael. I don't make a habit of this either. But it was consensual. Don't be so hard on yourself." He nodded. I frowned as I found myself saying "I just kinda wish I had found you first," as my face turned away from his.
To my surprise, his paw caressed my cheek. I turned to face him again, and Michael looked into my husky blue eyes. "Me too, Candice." Before I could reply, he bent down and kissed me. There was no demands, no promises, no questions. Just a tender kiss trapped in a moment in time. "You need any help getting home?" he asked after he finally broke the kiss.
I shook my head. "Naw, I'll be okay." I sat up and exhaled.
Michael nodded. "Guess I'll see you around then." He stood and put on his denim shorts. I looked up at him. "For what it's worth, Candice, I'm glad I met you."
"So am I, Michael." He waved shyly and left the gym.
For the second time that night I wiped off my chest and thighs. I dressed and strolled home. The cool air had become near arctic against my bare skin. By the time got home, undressed, and crawled into bed, I felt frozen. I remember dreaming that I was being hunted by gruff dogs across a frozen wasteland. They kept howling and nipping at my heels. Somehow I managed to shake them. So, naked, cold, and hungry, I darted deep into a cave with jagged rocks and icicles hanging over the opening. I went back into the cave as far as I could and curled up into a ball, trying to get warm and hide from whatever was hunting me.
Suddenly a burst of warmth filled me. My dream eyes flickered open just long enough to see Michael's strong, warm, naked body wrapping itself all the way around me. I could smell his musk clinging to my fur, filling my senses as my tail twitched happily.
That morning I awoke to find the pilot light on the furnace had gone out and Grant had hogged all of the covers. But the warmth still permeated me. And I couldn't help but smile as I slipped on my robe and went to the bathroom.
Once I finished in the bathroom, I let the furnace pilot light and made some cinnamon toast and coffee for breakfast. The smell of sugar and caffeine drug Grant out of bed. He poured a full mug of coffee, guzzled it down, then poured another mug. "Ah, my darling girl!" He kissed my cheek. "You're so good to me."
I just smiled at him. "I have to go to the school early today for bus duty. Gonna take a quick shower." He just nodded and demolished a piece of toast. I walked to the bathroom, closed the door, turned on the shower, and slipped off my robe. The warming water from the shower head rippled down my fur as I put a small drop of body wash on my bath sponge.
The moment the sponge touched my belly, I gasped. How would I explain to my husband that someone else may have given me the one thing he craved, and given it to me in such a wonderful and terrible way? And what would I say to Michael when I saw him again? We lived in the same complex, worked out at the same gym. It was at least conceivable that we would run into each other.
The sudden drop in water temperature snapped me back to my senses. "Sorry, babe!" Grant called from the kitchen. Apparently he turned the faucet on while I was in the shower. Again. I finished washing, turned off the shower, and grabbed my towel.
Grant knocked on the bathroom door. "Candy? Any hot water left for me?"
"Yeah," I called. He came in and kissed my cheek, then undressed and turned the shower back on. I walked to the bedroom, drying myself as I walked. By the time Grant finished his shower, I was dressed and had my notes in my bag.
Grant kissed my cheek again and gave me his customary "Have a good day, sweetie." I kissed his cheek in return and left for the high school.
***
When I arrived at the school, the first buses were already arriving to unload kids in their school clothes and Halloween costumes, ready for whatever party or plans they had for the weekend. On a holiday Friday like this, most teachers didn't even bother doing anything important. As for me, I was still young, cute, and idealistic, so I tried to use the day to my advantage.
"Does anyone know what Mischief Night is?" I asked my ninth-grade English class. Most of them either looked at their desks or gave me blank stares. Finally one of the shy kids in the back of the room raised his paw.
"Yes, Jordon?"
"Um, it's a night for mischief?" he asked. Several of my student chuckled.
I smiled. "Actually, that's right, Jordon. Mischief Night, or Devil's Night, is celebrated in many places on the night before Halloween. It's a time where people would get together for parties and revels. In many places it's also a time when teenagers would play pranks on each other."
"Aww, Mrs. Haverstrom, why didn't you tell us about that yesterday?" one kid piped up.
"Yeah, we could have toilet papered your house," another one chuckled. The rest of the students laughed along.
I chuckled for a moment, then raised my paws for quiet. When the noise died down, I continued. "I bring it up because in some places Mischief Night is celebrated on November the 4th."
Rachael, the inquisitive one in the class blurted out, "Why on November the 4th?"
Debbie, the class know-it-all, immediately shot her paw up in the air. I nodded to her. "Because of Guy Fawkes. He tried to blow up Parliament but was caught and executed."
"That's right, Debbie." She sat there, looking smug. A few of the other kids rolled their eyes at her. "See, at the time, England was ruled by people of the Protestant faith. The rulers often mistreated and abused people of other faiths, including Catholics. Guy Fawkes was sent to blow up Parliament while many of the government leaders were inside to protest the Protestant leadership. The authorities were tipped off and they found Fawkes in the early morning of November the 5th, just as he was setting up his gunpowder in the cellars under the Parliament building."
"What's that got to do with Halloween?"
"In many cultures, Halloween, All Saint's Eve, or Samhain, is a time when the past and present come together, when those who have died are allowed to roam the earth. It's also a time of death and rebirth. Winter is coming, the crops are being harvested, the nights are getting longer. Everyone is getting ready for winter and waiting for the rebirth of the spring. Revolutions work in the same way. One way of life or thinking dies so that another way can take its place." At that moment the bell rang. "Be sure to read Act One of The Dollhouse for Monday." I knew that most of them would forget or put it off. But a teacher's hope is always eternal.
With the school day over, I drove home, ignoring the DJs on the radio with their corny jokes and the fortieth replay today of "Monster Mash." The moment I got home, Grant called my phone. "Hey, babe, I just got an e-mail reminder for the Halloween party the apartment complex is hosting. We should dress up and go. It might be fun."
"Yeah, there's a flyer for it in the mailbox." I looked over the flyer. Hmmm...free food, free sodas, games for the kids, candy, and dancing from 6p to 9p. Oh, and a cash minibar for the adults. "Sounds like fun!" I couldn't hide in my apartment forever. I'd go and try to have a good time. And if Michael was there, I'd be polite. But nothing would happen beyond that point. I was going with my husband.
By the time Grant got home from the office I had finished putting on my Morticia Addams dress and wig and was applying just a hint of rouge and eyeliner. Grant dug out a flannel shirt, his torn jeans, an old pair of boots, and a battered straw hat my mother left here during her last visit. "What are you supposed to be?" I looked at him through the mirror as he put on the hat.
"I'm a scarecrow, silly." I shook my head. This was all Grant's idea. I spent over an hour trying to look nice for him. And this is all he could come up with? "Let's go, pretty girl," he said as he offered his arm to me. We walked down to the complex commons building, arriving just a few minutes after 6p.
Grant immediately went to the bar and ordered a beer. I wondered around for a while, chatting with a few of the neighbors and saying hello to the kids. Then I saw Michael. He stood at the far end of the room by a makeshift platform. He wore a cream colored peasant's shirt with a full Scottish tartan and kilt. A matching beret with a fake peacock feather, a thistle on his lapel, white socks, and faux skin boots completed the outfit.
He turned towards me and his eyes lit up as he waved. "Candice!" Before I knew what was happening, I was walking towards him as fast as my dress would allow. To my surprise, he was weaving through the crowd to get to me. He immediately gathered me in his arms and hugged me. "It's good to see you," he whispered.
"It's good to see you too," I told him as I wrapped my arms around his waist in return. "So what brings you to this shindig?"
He broke the hug and smiled at me. "Not a lot of money and boredom. And the secret hope of seeing you," he blushed. "I know we can't, well, you know. But I was hoping maybe you'd at least not hate me or something."
I smiled at him. "It's okay, Michael. Really." Our eyes met briefly. We smiled. "So, what's to drink around here? Aside from the beer."
Michael made a face. "Yeah, not a big fan myself." He led me over to a small refreshments table. "There's some water bottles, soda, and homemade fruit punch. I saw the landlord's son hovering over the punch with a small flask, so I'm pretty sure it's spiked."
I laughed and picked up a water bottle. Michael grabbed another bottle for himself. "I think I'm gonna sit down. Been a long time since I worn heels." Michael nodded and stood there by the table as I walked away. Surprising myself, I called to him. "Would you like to come sit with me for a moment?"
He nodded and smiled at me. We navigated our way to some chairs and sat. Michael held my bottle while I slipped off my shoes. He opened it before handing the bottle to me. "So, tell me about yourself."
I shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I've been married for five years. I teach English and Literature at the high school. I'm working on the ever elusive 'Great American Novel.' And I'm trying to enroll back in college so I can get my Ph.D."
"Wow! That's pretty impressive!"
I took a sip of my water. "What about you?"
Michael studied his drink for a moment. "Well, I'm 28 and was married once for a couple of years. We were young and stupid and thought our 'love' would outlast anything. It didn't. So I went back to school. I'm working on my Masters in English Literature, teaching a couple of classes at the community college, and editing a couple of online literary groups and magazines. I do some part-time handiwork at the complex for extra cash and cheap rent, and I sell drugs to afford my lavish garments." He raised his arms, modeling his outfit.
I giggled for a moment. "It's very lovely." I stroked the sash for a moment with my paw. "It must have cost a lot."
He blushes a bit. "Well, my last name is McKenzie. We're die-hard Scots, so most of this is either family made or passed down through the clan." He looked at me a bit sheepishly. "You know, I don't know your last name."
"Haverstrom. Candice Haverstrom."
He offered his paw to me, a goofy grin on his face. "Michael McKenzie. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." I laughed and shook his paw, marveling at how soft his pads were.
***
"So while Inferno is definitely my favorite of the three, I'm really fascinated by the character of Beatrice. In some ways I find her more intriguing a character than Dante." I paused to take a small bite of cake. "I mean, think about it. It's the thought of this glorified, deified woman that keeps Dante on his quest all the way to Paradise."
Michael nods as he swallows his last bite of cake. "I think the thing that always interested me was, in an age where women were thought to be below men, it's a woman - a beautiful, intelligent, self-assured woman - that works as Dante's muse, protection, and tour guide all throughout his journey. In fact, if she had not already been dead and ascended into Paradise, she would have been his guide through the Inferno as well."
Grant walked up to us, a lop-sided grin on his face. "Hey, Candy. I was wondering where you were."
"I've just been talking to Michael...one of our neighbors. Michael, this is my husband, Grant Haverstrom."
Michael juggled his plate of food to a nearby empty chair, stood and offered his paw. "Michael McKenzie."
"'s a pleasure," Grant nodded and shook the offered paw. "Can I get either of you a drink?"
"No, thanks. I'm good on water." Michael sat back down.
"I'm fine, thanks," I told my husband.
"Okay. I'm gonna go get some peanuts. Nice to meet you, Michael." With that, Grant walked towards the refreshments table.
I studied my water bottle for a moment when I felt Michael's hand on my knee. "Candice? You okay?"
I looked up to see that same expression on his face as when we were beside the treadmill. "Yeah, I'm fine," I smiled. "Just a bit awkward, that's all."
"I'm sorry. Here I am, talking your ear off when you've got a date and everything." He stood back up, his eyes still on me. "Thanks for a wonderful evening, Candice." He smiled, gathered his food and water, and walked away.
***
Nine o'clock finally arrived. I walked Grant home, helped him get undressed, and put him to bed. He dozed off immediately. I walked into the bathroom, washed off my make-up off my face, took off the wig, and looked into the mirror. "What am I doing?" I asked my reflection. It had no answer for me.
I crept to the bedroom and slipped out of my costume. After rummaging in the dresser for a few moments, I found my blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. I put them on, slipped on my tennis shoes, and went for a jog.
The moon was nearly full, the wind was light and warm, and the cars from the nearby highway seemed muted by the evening. I got halfway around the loop when I saw Michael sitting on the stone steps going up to the townhouses. He had changed from his costume to a t-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees. "Hey," I called as I slowed down a bit.
"Hey," he smiled and nodded. His smile seemed tired, a bit forced.
"You okay?" I asked him as I stopped and sat down beside him.
"Heh. I'm not sure." He half-smiled as he looked at the concrete in front of him. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"If I can ask you one." I tried to keep a jovial smile on my face.
"It's fine either way. I just need to know." Michael turned his head towards me, his eyes studying my face. "Can we just be friends? Or do I need to just go away somewhere and steer clear of you?"
It was my turn to look towards the concrete. "I honestly don't know."
Michael bowed his head again. "Me either." The sound of a car horn echoed in the distance. "So what did you want to ask me?"
My mind raced. I had meant it only as a joke. I hadn't considered that he'd hold me to it. Abruptly, I asked the first question that popped into my head. "Tonight, when you wore your kilt, how did you wear it?"
He turned to look at me again. Then his quizzical expression gave way to understanding. He waited until I looked up at him to answer. "I'm Scottish, Candice. Is there any other way to wear a kilt?"
We laughed. And laughed. It was a stupid question with a stupid answer. But it broke the tension. I leaned against him as our laughter died. Michael put his arm around me and we watched the stars twinkle, fade, and glow.
***
The rest of the weekend was quiet and uneventful. I didn't see Michael at the gym or in front of his apartment. I didn't dare knock on his door.
Then the school week started. And my days were like any other. I crawled out from the covers, showered, made breakfast, went to school, taught classes, came home, made dinner, wrote, graded papers, went to the gym, graded some more, then went to bed.
Ironically it was on November 5th that everything was turned upside down.
My Freshman English class was finishing Ibsen's The Dollhouse. As with most teachers, I made the mistake of having the kids take certain parts for part of the day and reading aloud.
We'd just gotten to the last act where Nora and Torval are having their big disagreement when Kyle raised his paw. "Yes, Kyle?"
"Today's November 5th. Why can't we be studying a revolution or something exciting?" Several students muttered their agreement.
And the words were out of me before I could stop them. "Well, Kyle, this is a revolution of sorts. At the time this was written, women were considered to be chattel and property of their fathers until they married. Then they became the property of their husbands. In many households, they were kept in the home, only allowed to bear children, cook, clean, or do what was necessary to please their husbands and family. Many of them were not allowed to read or write except as it might benefit the family or the family's needs. Many women weren't allowed to go to school or get a job. They didn't leave the house except under the supervision of their fathers or husbands, and were always introduced as 'my wife' or 'my daughter.' They had no property of their own. Whatever they had was given to them by their family. They had no identity except what was given to them."
Debbie the know-it-all gasped. "That's shameful!"
"The people of the time didn't know better. They didn't understand that women think and feel and understand things. To many men they were playthings, there for the amusement and benefit of the family. That's why Nora refers to her life as living in a doll house. That's why she tells Torval," I paused to try and find the quote, "'You have never loved me. You have only thought it pleasant to be in love with me.'"
The class, for once, watched me with rapt silence. I found myself pacing the room, the book in my left paw, becoming more animated. "That's why this play was such a revolution. Henrick Ibsen, a man, stood up and suggested that women should be allowed to have their own identities, their own jobs and thoughts and feelings. They should be able to marry whom they wished when they wished, if they wanted to marry at all. It was the first time that a woman ever said aloud, 'I must stand quite alone, if I am to understand myself and everything about me. It is for that reason that I cannot remain with you any longer.' The more Torval protests, the more Nora feels 'it makes it all the more certain that it must be done.'"
At that point the bell rang. The class gathered their books and left in relative silence. I didn't remind them we'd be finishing The Dollhouse tomorrow. I had too many other things on my mind.
***
As I was driving home, Grant called my cell phone. "Hey, baby. I'm gonna be late tonight. Got a meeting with the Board. If you just wanna put dinner in the fridge, I'll warm it up when I get home."
"When do you think you'll be home?"
"Really don't know, Candy. The boss really wants to nab this account so it'll be awhile. Don't wait up for me, okay? You need your beauty sleep." Then I heard another voice talking to Grant. "That's the boss, babe. Gotta go!"
The line disconnected. I put the phone down and moved to the turning lane. I turned left at the light on 71st Street and drove down to the Lanna Thai restaurant at 71st and Lewis. The moment I opened my car door, I could smell the coconut, cilantro, and spices. Grant never liked spices and was allergic to coconut. I grinned, thinking I might have to have the fried bananas and rice balls with coconut milk for dessert.
As I waited to be seated, school bag in my hand and cell phone in my pocket, I noticed a small booklet with local apartments and houses to rent. I picked it up. The waitress smiled at me and took me to a small table at the back of the room. I ordered Thai vegetables in coconut sauce and a spicy chicken salad with toasted rice, plus water with lime and an iced Thai tea to drink. As the waitress walked away with my order, I leafed through the apartment book. Grant had always insisted on a joint checking account, but I had a savings account in my name at a different bank. Part of my check and my personal funds went to that savings account. A quick call confirmed how much my account currently had.
I pulled the notebook out of my bag, took out my cell phone, and began to call the various apartments. By the time my dessert arrived, I had secured a viewing with an apartment complex by the school that was within my budget. As I finished my dessert, I called the local Motel 6 and got a room for the next few days.
I put up my phone and notebook just as I heard a familiar voice call to me. "Candice?" I looked up to see Michael wave at me, a bag of take out in his left paw.
"Hey!" I grinned.
He walked over to my table and looked down at me. "Candice? What is it?"
He knew something was wrong. How did he know? I was smiling, I was energetic, I was excited. How the hell did he know? "Will you be home tonight?" I asked after a heavy pause.
His voice lowered. "Of course. I have some essays to finish so I'll be at my apartment all night." He placed a paw lightly on mine. "Is there anything I can do?"
I looked into the lupine's soft eyes. "I don't know yet. But I'll know by tonight."
He nodded. "Okay. I'll be home." He gave my paw a quick, supportive squeeze, then left me there to my thoughts. The waitress came by with the check. I paid, left a nice tip, and went home.
***
Once I got to the apartment, I changed into jeans, sports bra, and my baggy sweatshirt. After riffling through the kitchen, I found some packing tape, a knife, and a Sharpie. A further search found a few empty boxes and my luggage from our honeymoon in the utility room.
The next two hours was spent listening to music while I packed up my clothes and what few belongings I wanted to take with me into my car. I finally got the last box into my car and had turned off the music when Grant walked into the door. "Hey, Candy girl! What's for dinner?"
"I had Thai."
"But what about me?"
I shrugged. "There's plenty of leftovers in the fridge along with some microwave meals in the freezer. You should be fine."
"Candy, I don't understand..."
My body started to tremble a bit. I sat down and took a breath. Viva la revolucion, I told myself. "I'm leaving, Grant."
"WHAT!" His briefcase fell to the floor, busting open. Grant knelt in front of me so he could look me in the eyes. "Why would you want to leave me?" He placed his paws on my knees.
"Because I'm a thing to you. Something to make you happy. Something to parade around the complex and the office. 'She's smart, she's cute, and she cooks!' Isn't that how you bragged about me to your boss at the Christmas party last year?"
"Candy, baby, that was a joke! It was all good fun!"
"Not for me." I moved his paws off my knees and stood up. "'You have never loved me. You have only thought it pleasant to be in love with me,'" I found myself quoting. "I was a young, pretty schoolteacher that wouldn't threaten your job, your life, or your libido. I wanted to be loved. You thought it would be fun. That's all there was to it."
"Candy..." Grant looked up at me from his kneeling position on the floor. "Candice...I don't understand..."
"'That makes it all the more certain that it must be done.'" I took the apartment key off my key chain and set the key on the table. "I'll call tomorrow and have my name taken off the apartment, the cell phone, and the insurance." With that I walked out, shutting the door behind me.
***
I checked in to the Motel 6 and unpacked my clothes. The belongings I didn't absolutely need for school stayed in the trunk of my car. I showered, put on some clean jeans, a t-shirt, my tennis shoes, and my jacket. Then I sat on the edge of the bed for fifteen minutes, looking at the clock.
Finally I stood up. "Let's get this over with," I said aloud.
A twenty minute drive took me back to the apartment complex. I walked up to Michael's apartment and knocked on the door. Michael answered almost immediately. "Candice!" He hugged me. "Come in!" I walked into his townhouse. While not immaculate, the place was well kept and dusted, the décor and lighting sparse yet tasteful. "I just made some cookies and put on water for some tea. Would you like some?"
"Sure."
"Have a seat in the living room," he indicated a small love seat with a raised table in front of it. I sat down at looked across the table. It was the only real clutter in the room, covered with a laptop, notebooks, pens, and wads of discarded paper. "I've got orange cinnamon, chamomile, cherry blossom, peppermint, and chai tea." He called to me from the kitchen.
"Chai is fine," I called back.
Within a few moments, Michael came back with a small tray of hot homemade chocolate chip cookies and two mugs of hot chai tea. He placed the tray on the edge of the table, then packed up his homework so it was out of the way. He passed one of the mugs to me. I took a sip of the tea. The warmth of the tea and the smell of the cookies soothed me. Michael sat down on the floor on the other side of the table and sipped his tea, giving me time to collect my thoughts.
Finally I placed the mug on the tray by the cookies. My eyes never left the table. "Michael, I'm leaving my husband and I'm leaving the apartments. I'll finish the school year here. After that, I may look for another job somewhere else."
Michael sat his mug down beside mine and placed his paws in his lap. "Is there anything I can do?"
I lifted my head. My eyes met his. And in that moment I wanted to say, "Yes." I wanted to sit beside him and eat cookies and sleep in his arms. I wanted to feel his body move against me as we mated, desperately, hungrily, lovingly. I wanted to make his tea and fix his breakfast...and then the words came to me.
"The first night we met, I dreamt I was being chased through an ice storm by something. I ran, wet and naked, into a cave and hid. I was frightened and alone. Then you came and wrapped your body around me. And I was warm and safe." I reached across the table and touched his cheek. His eyes never leaving mine, he nuzzled into the caress. "I was home."
Then I slowly lowered my paw. Michael let me move away. "But that's not what I need. And I'm not sure it's what I want. All I know is that I have to find my place. I have to be out in the storm." I felt the quote come from me again, but with tenderness and softness, rather than the malice I used on Grant. "'I must stand quite alone, if I am to understand myself, and everything about me.'"
Michael nodded. "'It is for that reason that I cannot remain with you any longer.'"
"You understand?"
"Yeah, I do," Michael answered.
"Maybe someday..." I told him.
Michael reached across the table and squeezed my paws lightly. Then he let go. "Maybe not." Michael looked at the floor. "You know I'm falling for you, don't you?"
"And I for you, Michael. But it's not time." I stood up. "I guess I should go."
Michael nodded, standing up as well. He walked around the table and hugged me. "Take care of yourself," he whispered in my ear.
"I promise." I whispered to him.
Then Michael let me go. He walked me to the doorway. I walked down the steps to my car. And Michael closed the door behind me.