The Dog Whisperer

1. Introductions

I was on the trail early; the heat and inevitable sunburn of midday get unbearable here. I didn't see anyone for several minutes and hoped for a brisk pace, 6.5 miles in two hours, but my parents' dog Nicky would help; she pulls like a locomotive.

Nicky is a 4-year-old shorthaired pointer, rail thin with a big chest and ludicrously fast, tireless as long as she gets enough to drink. She has white fur with large orange-brown spots on her head and back, and smaller ones like freckles over her whole body. I often get compliments about her being as pretty as any show dog.

I came around a bend in the trail. Two women were chatting, three dogs between them. Both seemed older than my 38 years, one seemingly in her late 60s, the other early 40s. The younger woman wore a surgical mask, her eyes jewel-bright.

"Good morning," I said. The older woman returned my greeting.

"Such a beautiful creature," the younger woman said, before turning her eyes back to me.

She had a curly-haired labradoodle, taller and heavier than Nicky, sheared but for a shaggy topknot. I like to let Nicky socialize but many owners don't, so every trail greeting can be a negotiation. This woman's labradoodle was aggressive, sticking its nose in Nicky's butt as she and the older woman's smaller dog sniffed each other. Nicky jumped as if goosed. Both women laughed.

"Sorry about that," the younger woman said. "Chipper can be a bit ... assertive."

"He's definitely interested," the older woman said. "That must've been like a stick up your poor dog's butt. I know that look well."

The younger woman laughed again, more gently. I laughed with her. She wore her long hair in a ponytail, her legs and arms golden-tan. She was sinewy and petite, wearing shorts and a stretchy sparkly top under a translucent white blouse that was open to the waist. She had the most breathtaking legs I'd ever seen, the muscled skin around her knees almost gnarled.

"Your dog is one of those?" she asked, glancing at Nicky's leash.

"If she gets off-leash, she runs away," I said. The woman nodded thoughtfully.

Another woman walked up from the other direction with a dog of her own, then a fourth woman jogged up from behind with yet another, so we were suddenly five people and six dogs clumped into a small area, all but Nicky unleashed, with the dogs in something of a sensory frenzy. The first two women greeted the jogger in a way suggesting they knew each other well.

"I'd better keep on," I said, not wanting Nicky to get overstimulated. "Have a great morning."

"See you later," the younger woman said, her eyes intense. The older woman chuckled.

The jogger trotted past a minute later but her dog seemed content to walk alongside Nicky. "Come!" the jogger shouted, now a good 20 yards ahead and not looking back. I figured it would help to stop, so I did. Her dog dithered for two seconds before running ahead, obviously reluctant, catching up and quickly disappearing.

I continued on, reaching the turnaround in 59 minutes, knowing the return would be slower even though slightly downhill; I'm not in great shape and would be more tired, while Nicky wouldn't be pulling as much. I encountered several more older women with dogs along the way plus a female bicyclist I shortened Nicky's leash for, pulling to one side of the trail as the cyclist came up from behind. She thanked me as she passed. There were three more runners without dogs: a young woman toiling in what looked like a high-school shirt, a young man loping easily in a college cross-country jersey, and another young man with no shirt who looked like he got a lot of strength work in, running more slowly. His crotch had a bulge that was difficult to miss.

Coming back, I thought I glimpsed that shirtless man with the woman who had the labradoodle, walking away together on a cross street close to home. I was exhausted when I finished, not quite meeting my time goal. Nicky seemed tired, too. I cooled off with Gatorade and ice water in the shade, then showered and napped.

* * *

Two days later, after a day to recover, I was back on trail with Nicky but starting 45 minutes later, intending to walk the same distance as last time. The later start was a mistake; it got hot and Nicky was completely sapped as we neared home. Along the way, I recognized the two female runners. The one with the dog was tall and strongly built, not fast but very obviously fit. She wore sunglasses and when she passed, from the other direction this time, it was difficult to not notice that she was gorgeous. Her dog was smaller and wiry, and took another brief interest in Nicky. The smaller woman, the one who'd been toiling last time, didn't seem as young as I'd previously thought and had a tattoo covering much of one arm.

I saw the woman with the labradoodle near the end of our walk. Nicky was panting hard, and flagging.

"She needs water," the woman said.

"I know. We're only half a mile from home so we should be OK."

"I'm closer than that. Please come with us, I want to know your dog is all right." Her eyes were intense.

I nodded. "Nicky's not used to this; my parents can't walk her now. I'm Drew."

She smiled. "Carmen. Very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine." I couldn't see her smile under the mask, but her eyes crinkled in a way that suggested it was broad and genuine. I pulled my cloth mask up from my neck.

Her house wasn't much closer than my parents, but it was on the canyon's edge, with a lower level that felt secluded even if visible to homes on the other side, half a mile away. Lots of shady trees and hedges helped. She led me through her side yard to that lower level, then brought the dogs to Chipper's water bowl. It was a decadently pleasant spot.

"Chipper, stay," she said. Chipper whined a little, but stayed. "Let Nicky drink. I'll get you another bowl. Drew, anything for you?"

"Ice water and something like Gatorade if you have it, please." She nodded, disappeared inside, and emerged a minute later with a small blue bottle of Powerade and a dog bowl that was mostly full of water. She put it down near Chipper, a few feet from Nicky, said "Good boy," and Chipper drank.

"Thank you. He's remarkably well trained," I said.

"I'm a trainer."

"You seem to be very good."

"Thank you," she said. "Nicky is your parents' dog?"

"Yes. My Dad got her for bird hunting but my mother spoils her rotten. She doesn't get enough exercise. I try to help when I visit, which helps me, too. I'm pretty out of shape."

She nodded. "But you seem athletic."

"I was and probably could be again, if I gave it time and focus."

"It's good that you're walking. I have a weight room. A few others also use it. You'd be welcome."

The offer felt uncomfortably quick. "Thank you, that's very generous."

A young, shirtless man came out with glasses of ice and what looked like mineral water on a tray, plus a bowl of fruit and two small hand sanitizers. He was trim and muscular, with a noticeable bulge at his crotch. He placed everything on the small table next to me, then retreated inside with the tray. Carmen didn't acknowledge him.

"Family?"

Her eyes seemed intense again. "No. I'm a therapist." She removed her mask. We were sitting outside, more than six feet apart, both of us with drinks, neither of us breathing hard. I removed mine, too. If anything, her eyes seemed even brighter without the mask to hide her aquiline nose and the rest of her face, which was strikingly pretty.

"Where's home?" she asked.

"Denver. Boulder, actually"

"Do you have family there?"

"My wife and son. Well, ex-wife now."

"I'm sorry."

"No need. It was for the best."

"You didn't want the divorce?"

"By that point it was inevitable. She saw greener pastures."

"She was unfaithful?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"You?"

"No. Never tempted, actually."

"You're very good-looking. It's hard to imagine you not attracting interest. Some women are opportunists."

"Well, thank you. There's the occasional flirting, especially in this city, but I haven't felt ready."

"Here? Really? Who?"

"Last visit, there was an older woman at the supermarket. She complimented my Dad's old truck, but really, I think she was interested in me. We chatted for a bit, and yeah, it felt like flirting."

She smiled. "Interesting. I might know her. Light blonde? Outdoorsy?"

I smiled. "Yes."

"What kind of truck?"

"Are you a truck person?"

She paused. "No. A psychologist friend studies female-male interactions. Sometimes, like now, women and men use different vocabularies, which interests me. I studied under her."

"So you're definitely not just a dog trainer."

She shook her head, seeming annoyed that our conversation was straying, or perhaps that I was asking questions rather than just answering. She waited.

"It's a 1971 Chevy," I said. "Two-wheel drive."

"Details, please."

"It was Chevrolet's standard 1971 light-duty pickup, with fancy trim. I'm not really a truck person either, but I have enough background to give more detail if you were, the way that woman might've been."

"Try me."

I looked into her eyes, which were intent on mine. She seemed interested, if not so much in the truck as in how I might describe it. I searched for the right words.

"It's a C-30 one-ton, a C/K with the "C" meaning two-wheel drive. A 350 V-8. Custom Deluxe trim, blue and white paint, and a 3-speed automatic transmission. A big chrome toolbox in the open bed."

She smiled, shaking her head a little. "Do you like it?"

"It was a regular-sized truck for its day, but these days it seems small, maybe even cute. I can see how a female truck person might like it."

"Is it practical?"

I laughed. "Not at all, it's a total gas hog and doesn't have A/C, which matters more here than in Boulder. But I like that some might find it desirable, and it can be a conversation-starter."

She laughed, too. "Like now."

"Exactly."

She leaned back in her chair, gazing across the canyon. "You're easy to talk with."

"Not everyone agrees, and speaking of different vocabularies, I'm an engineer, which sometimes gets in the way, though I'm enjoying this conversation very much."

She seemed to flush slightly, and reached to sip her drink. "Me too," she said. "You're in Boulder, does that mean you teach engineering?"

"Adjunct professor at the University, yes. Which is a fancy way of saying I teach for two weeks every year. Not my usual thing but it stretches me in a way I enjoy."

She smiled, somewhat cryptically. "That usually implies a Ph.D."

"Guilty," I said, smiling. "Colorado School of Mines." Carmen's flush seemed to deepen.

The door opened behind us and an older woman came out, the same woman Carmen had been chatting with on the trail. She had her own drink in a highball glass.

"Well, isn't this nice?" she said.

"Drew, this is Nell. She's the psychologist friend I mentioned."

Nicky was lying torpid next to my chair. Nell reached down to caress her head. "Hello again, dear."

"Nice to meet you, Nell," I said, holding out my fist for a bump, but she didn't.

"Good morning, Drew," she said.

"Carmen tells me she studied under you."

The corners of Nell's lips turned up. "She still does, sometimes."

"She's a very good teacher," Carmen said, which made Nell smile and look into my eyes for the first time. Like Carmen, she had an intense gaze.

"Carmen is an excellent student, perhaps the best I've ever taught. She applies herself well." Nell sat in a chair on the opposite side from me as Carmen, with Nicky between us.

"Drew might join us in my workout room," Carmen said.

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Nell asked me, one eyebrow raised as if asking a very different question. "Carmen is demanding."

"Tomorrow, maybe. I'm out of shape and don't want to push myself too hard."

"Perhaps you'd like to see it now? Then we could make an appointment for ... tomorrow?" Carmen's smile was coquettish.

I exhaled. "I'd love to, thank you, it's beautiful here."

She reached for her hand sanitizer and applied it. I did the same, then rose, my legs creaking, and held out my hand to Carmen.

"Thank you," she said, taking it. Nicky groaned. She didn't seem to want to get up.

"Her name is Nicky," I said to Nell, who had her hand on Nicky's head.

"Seems like she pushed too hard, too. I'll stay with her while you two get ... better acquainted."

"Thank you," I said, and turned to Carmen, who still held my hand. Hers was small and cool.

She squeezed, her slender fingers rather strong. "I spend a lot of time in there," she whispered, winking.

We donned our maskshttps://id.techinasia.com/profile/chrismurray

and she led me into her house, still holding my hand. The wall was mostly glass, a kitchen just inside, then an open dining area, down stairs and past a closed, heavy-looking door, then to a well-appointed home gym with two multi-stations, a bench press, a leg press, and a mirrored wall of free weights with kettle balls of various sizes and what once might've been called medicine balls.

"Nice place," I said.

"Thanks. I would like for you to try a little now," she said. "I won't overtax you, just enough to get a feel for your limits."

"You sound like a physical trainer, too."

She smiled. "Physical, cognitive, and yes, behavioral. Sometimes there's a little carryover from my dogs."

"Do you have more than one?"

She pointed to the bench press. "Lift now, questions later."

She removed some weights from the bar. There were more of them than a slender, petite woman like her should've been able to manage, no matter how strong.

"100 pounds. You should be able to manage that without trouble. Give me two reps. If they're too easy I'll add more."

Two reps at 100 was easy, while 120 felt like the beginnings of work. She had me wipe down everything I touched.

"Good. Now, your legs. I know you're tired from walking, so we'll go easy."

Forward and backward lifts, then the press. She reduced those weights, too.

"Now, arm curls. I'll start you at 25 pounds." That was too easy, so she bumped me to 30 while picking up 15-pounders herself. I used to do reps at 45. I was seated but there was only the one bench. She faced me and bent over. "Give me 10 with each arm," she said, then started doing the same herself.

Six was easy, the next two were tougher, and the last two were a challenge. Her shapely breasts were pushing down into her top, which was stretchy so her bendover wasn't showing additional skin. The fine gold chain leading into her top stayed in place. She wasn't wearing a bra. I stirred. Her eyes were down as if inviting me to check out her body. She matched my curls one for one, and smiled knowingly when we finished.

"Good. Now your core. I want 20 crunches. I'll show you how; it's a really good exercise."

She lay down and crossed her arms over her belly, one hand holding her other wrist, raised her torso about 20 degrees while pulling her knees in, then back down again. It took a little getting used to since it required me to balance on my butt, but I caught on.

"Good. Now let's work your hands." She passed me a climber's rubber ring, a little larger in diameter than my palm. "Give me 20 with each hand, using your thumb. Then 20 without your thumb." She showed me what she meant.

I felt the last few, though not as much as with the curls. I flexed my hands several times after handing the ring back.

"Good. That's all for today. I want you to come back tomorrow morning, without Nicky, and I'll work you harder. And Drew?"

"Yes?"

"Get tested for Covid-19, for antibodies as well as the virus. Bring the test results. I want to do this without masks."

I smiled. "Nell was right, you ARE demanding. But I'll find a way."

"Excellent. Let's go upstairs and say goodbye."

Nell was waiting at the front door with Nicky, still on her leash. "Pleased to meet you, Drew," she said, and handed me the leash.

"The pleasure is mine," I said.

"Mine, too," Carmen said, then her voice dropped. "And Drew, if it's something you want, get yourself tested for HIV and other STIs."

That was sudden. I gulped, then nodded. My cock was stirring again.

"Very good. 10 o'clock sharp."

"I look forward to it."

She smiled and closed the door.

2. Tests

I took all the tests Carmen wanted and brought the results in a slim folio. I made sure to arrive early but didn't ring her doorbell until exactly 10:00 AM. The shirtless man with the crotch bulge answered a few seconds later and motioned me in. He led me to the dining room, where Carmen was at the table with some papers and a laptop. She was dressed in clothing similar to what she'd worn yesterday, minus the blouse, her hair damp, her color high and looking freshly scrubbed. Shorter shorts that emphasized her spectacular legs. She looked scrumptious.

"That'll be all, Lucey," she said. He bowed and left through the hallway.

She glanced at her phone and smiled, then at another chair about eight feet away. I took the hint and sat down. I laid my folio on the table between us. She opened it and scanned through everything.

"You're in excellent health, clean as a whistle. I approve."

"Just a bit out of shape."

"Yes. That's where I come in."

"Did you walk today?"

"Earlier than usual. An early workout gives me energy for the whole day."

"Sounds nice. I was always more of a night exerciser."

She smiled. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

She took my hand and caressed my palm, examining it. "I see better fitness in your future." Her caress felt very nice. She stood and I did, too. "You may remove your mask."

The heavy door in her basement was still closed, while her workout room looked and smelled freshly cleaned.

"How do you feel after yesterday?"

"My biceps and hands are a little sore."

"I worked those yesterday for a very good reason."

"Which is?"

"Lift first, questions later."

She ran me through every station in the room. She showed me an exercise to do with the kettle ball, standing with legs wide and swinging it down between them and up to horizontal. I alternated push-ups and planks, but the hardest new thing for me was lunges, where we would take long steps forward and dip down so our front upper legs were horizontal, then step forward with the other leg and repeat. I only made it across the room and back once. Then we did arm curls together, and the climber's ring, more of each than last time.

"Now for a demonstration. As I said, I spend a lot of time here, and as I'm sure you noticed yesterday, some of the weights aren't set for me. That would be Lucey, who brought your water. His time here is almost up. Stand."

I stood.

"Good." She reached one hand to cup my crotch, squeezing lightly, and with the other, brought the heel of one of my palms to her entrance, between her legs, and crossed them. Then she squeezed my fingers there. Hard. "I've just tired you out to the point where you'll have trouble extracting your hand. I want you to try."

She squeezed so hard it was like the hardest handshake I'd ever had. Her eyes were intense in mine. "I noticed you checking out my body. I wanted you to. I wanted it to lead to this. I keep myself very fit. It's important to me. And if you think this squeeze is hard, wait'll you learn what else I can do."

I wasn't trying very hard to extract my hand from between her legs, because right up against her vulva I could feel her heat, and combined with her hand on my package and the sight of her stunning smooth legs, it was making me lightheaded.

Instead, I moved my other hand to my lips, inserted my middle finger and coated it liberally with saliva, then reached behind her, slid my hand down her ass and under her shorts and panties, and pushed it more than one knuckle deep into her anus. She yelped, tensing around my finger, and relaxed her grip on my other hand. I pulled both hands away before she could trap either one again, giving her ass a little slap as I did. Her other hand was still on my crotch, where I was very obviously getting hard.

The Dog Whisperer

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