“No,” he says, that creepy smile plastered on his face again. “I’m a high value man. And you’re lucky I’m willing to give you another chance. Now. Go get changed so we can go. I don’t want to be in Tuft Swallow a minute longer than I have to be.” He looks around my tiny living space. “And we’ll be staying in my apartment tonight.”
Heavy footsteps on the stairs outside my apartment have me breathing an enormous sigh of relief. Milton, on the other hand, suddenly looks much less relaxed.
“What was that you were saying about Nick not coming back? Because it sure as hell sounds to me like he’s coming up the stairs right now.”
Milton’s eyes go comically wide as he looks from me to the apartment door. The apartment door he left wide open when he walked in here.
“Yeah, that’s a lesson I learned the hard way, too. When you leave your door open, sometimes you get unwanted guests.”
“Shit,” He mutters as he lunges for the open door, his fingers barely grazing the edge before my hero arrives in all his...white fleeced glory?
“Winston?” The name falls from my mouth in confusion as the goat bursts through the door with a triumphant screaming bleat.
“MAAAAAA!” he bleats as he rams his head horns first into Milton’s crotch. “Maaaa,” he bleats again before ramming Milton a second time.
“Mommy.” Milton’s high-pitched squeal is feeble as he crumples to the floor with his hands over his mashed testicles,the sound barely audible over Winston’s continued cries of triumph.
Winston looks at me with his sideways slitted eyes, offering a slight tilt of his head and one last, short bleat that seems to convey a sense of “you’re welcome.” He then tramples over Milton’s body, his hooves digging into all the prone man’s softest parts, as he makes his way to my bedroom, no doubt to ransack my underwear drawer again.
“Help yourself, Winston,” I call out, without taking my eyes off Milton. “I owe you. Take whatever you want. And I take it back, you totally have my vote in the next election.”
I watch as Milton continues mewling while he rocks side to side, my attention so fully occupied that I don’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until Nick and Chief Woodcock come bursting into my apartment, followed closely by Winston’s hot daddy. The sight of the three men almost tripping over Milton’s body as they frantically scan the room is enough to send me flying into a fit of giggles.
“Hey, Tina. I was walking into the station and heard a ruckus coming from over here. Is everything okay?” Chief Woodcock’s voice takes on the calming tone one uses when they’re talking someone down off a ledge. Placating. Soft.
I nod through my tears of laughter, forcing out, “Winston…Winston…he...” before succumbing to the giggles again, and waving my hand toward my bedroom. “Take it all, Winston,” I blurt between laughs. “You deserve it. I’ll buy more and you can take those, too.”
Nick’s eyes are wild with worry as steps over Milton’s body, kicking him as he goes by, forcing another little squeal from the so-called “high value alpha dom”. He wraps me in his arms and leads me to the couch, sitting down before pulling me into his lap. He smooths his hands up and down my back, whispering in my ear that everything will be okay, that he’s here now. Oncethe giggles are under control, I sag in his arms, the adrenaline of the last several minutes leaving me in a rush.
“Hey, Chief?” Nick says without taking his eyes off of me. “Can you do me a favor and get rid of that guy? And make sure he doesn’t come back to bother Tina again?”
I look up to see Chief Woodcock smiling down at Milton. “Oh, I think that could be arranged. Tina? Before I take him out of here, I need to know, will you be pressing charges?”
I stare at Milton. His eyes are wide, and somehow I can sense he’s finally scared enough that he won’t be back. Turning my attention to the chief, I shake my head. “No. I think we’re good here.” A snort of laughter works its way free. “You might want to get him some medical attention, though. Winston did a real number on his testicles.”
A single huff of deep laughter comes from Winston’s hot daddy, so short I might have imagined it. His eyes have a slight crinkle at the corners when I look at him, though, so maybe not?
“I think that can be arranged. I’ll have Dr. Cratchett meet us at the clinic.” He pulls a pair of handcuffs from his belt, rolls Milton to his stomach, then cuffs him. “Come on. Up you go,” he says, as he hoists Milton to his feet and shoves him toward the door. “Let me know if you change your mind about pressing charges, Tina. I’ll have him in custody for a little while, at least until he can see Dr. Cratchett.”
I nod, and he takes Milton out. Winston’s hot daddy gives a low whistle and Winston comes trotting out of my bedroom, a half-eaten pair of panties in his mouth and a bra hanging from a horn. Nick leans over to remove the panties before nodding to Winston’s owner and waving them both off. As soon as they’re out the door, Nick slides me off his lap, gets up, and locks the door behind them.
He looks at me, head tilted as his eyes fill with concern. He blows out a breath, allowing his shoulders to relax. “Jesus, Tina. Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low. “Tell me everything.”
The weight of everything that’s happened today, never mind just in the last twenty minutes, comes crashing down, and I burst into tears. Nick rushes back to the couch, dragging me back onto his lap, and encouraging me to rest my head on his shoulder. I cry, and cry, great hiccuping sobs that would be embarrassing if I had the capacity to feel shame right now. Nick lets me cry all over him, seemingly oblivious to the mess soaking his shirt, and it makes me like him even more.
There’s no way I’m giving him up without a fight now. But so much for cleaning myself up before begging Nick to give us a chance. Looks like he’s getting the defective tomato version of me, after all.
Daisy Duck Doesn't Even Wear Shorts
Nick
My heart tries toclaw its way out of my chest as I sit with Tina cuddled on my lap mere minutes after finding her standing over that Milton asshole. After what happened last night, I can’t believe he’d have it in him to come back. That guy is lucky he only has goat-inflicted groin injuries to contend with. If I’d gotten here before Winston, and if the chief of police hadn’t followed me in, I guarantee he wouldn’t have been so lucky. And he would have done more than spend the night in a dumpster this time, too.
As Tina relays the story to me, starting with her mistaking the sound of Milton coming up the stairs for me coming back, the anger grows until it threatens to burn a hole in my stomach. When she repeats what he said about her getting on her knees and apologizing properly, I’m ready to track the asshole down at the clinic and smash his face with my fists until it matches his balls, Chief Woodcock or no Chief Woodcock.
What pisses me off the most is this is my fault. I should kick my own ass for what happened. Better yet, maybe I should get Winston back here to teach me a lesson. Why didn’t I insist she lock the door behind me when I left? Instead, I closed it and trusted nothing bad would happen. And look where that got us.
I can tell Tina senses the direction my thoughts are heading when she places a hand on my cheek and turns my face to hers.
