Okay, You all know that I am a writer today because of Dara Joy and her list on E groups (long story that most of you already know), but I made some of my best friends on that loop and later on Christine Feehan’s. She became something of a writing mommy for me and I adore her and her family. It’s been years since I’ve gotten a chance to speak with her, but a lot of friends I made on her list stilllike me for some strange reason. LOL I started this story a while ago for them. I recently dusted it off and want to finish it this year… sometime! LOL Without further ado, here is a bit of Aramis!
I will not!
IT’S because you are a chicken!
I am not!
You are such a big baby! That is exactly what you are!
I am not!
I don’t have to! I am an adult!
Say it! Say it! Say it! Say it!
“Fine! Pussy! There I said it! Pussy, pussy, pussy!”
The startled hush that overcame the people on the transport was the first clue that he had screwed up…big time!
He turned startled gray eyes to Silva and wanted to either bury his face in his hands, scream, or cry.
Instead, he sat there, that shocked expression on his face, and glared at the amazon sitting beside him that brought it all to a head.
“Thank you, Aramis,” she breathed, blinking back big silvery crocodile tears from her black eyes.
She turned to the people around them and opened her mouth to explain, just as a huge silver mink streaked across the transport and leapt onto her lap.
“Putzie,” she explained, using some weird accent that for some strange reason sounded perfectly normal. “This is my Putzie. English is not my first language and I was a bit embarrassed to call for her. She escaped her pen.”
Then with a thought, she was holding up her previously empty hand to show a small pocketbook looking pet carrier.
“I don’t know what I would do without my Putzie. She is my favorite pet.”
The faces around them began to clear up, some even smiled, at the sight of the woman stoking her Putzie.
“Aramis loves Putzie, does he not?” she dimpled, holding the creature that really didn’t exist up to his face.
“Aramis strokes his Putzie every night. She is soft, as a mink is supposed to be, but she is so resilient. Aramis knows how to stroke Putzie right.”
At this point, a huge blush spread across his face, that the people in Transport eight took to be embarrassment over such a strong looking fellow petting a small silver mink.
“What do you feed it?” a woman asked, peering closer at the creature who was now winding it sway across Aramis’ face.
“Hard things. Putzie likes hard things.”
THE woman’s face crinkled in confusion.
“You know,” Silva continued, artless and innocent appearing. “Cucumbers, carrots, celery, though it goes limp much too easily if my Putzie doesn’t take them into her mouth and swallow right away. Still, hard things are good for Putzie.”
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, something of her thoughts clarifying in her head. “Hard vegetables must be good for her teeth.”
“Yes, my Putzie likes hard things. It is good for her teeth. And lot of water. My Putzie love being wet.”
“Yeah,” Aramis smiled, thorough clenched teeth, as he faced the grinning woman. “Surprising thing to find in a mink, but she is just a big weasel after all.”
“No! Aramis pretends that he doesn’t like Putzie, but he loves Putzie. He stokes her, and cuddles her, and loves her for hours. Putzie is Aramis’ favorite pet. Why, lays on his back in our bed and allows Putzie to run all over his face! She would sit there all the time if he allowed it, but Aramis always pushers her lower. My Putzie loves Aramis to death! They are perfect for each other and are fast friends. I don’t know what Aramis would do without my Putzie!”
The woman, and several people giggled at the blush that stole over the big man’s face.
It was so at odds with his powerful build, but his visage was one of tenderness and caring. He must really be a sensitive man.
“Hey buddy,” one beer gutted man called out. “It’s okay to like Putzie there. It just shows your softer side. Hell man, if I had a Putzie, I’d play with her all the time. She is really adorable! I bet her fur is so soft.”
“See, Aramis!” Silva giggled as she picked up the mink and placed it back into the carrier. “Lots of people like Putzie. It’s okay to show that you love my Putzie. She loves you back, even more that you love her!”
Before that farce could continue, there was a ringing and the transport announced the stop.
‘This is us,” Aramis sighed as he rose to his feet and held his hand out to the tall woman who confidently took his hand and gracefully stood at his side. “Bring your Putzie and come on.”
“You know, darling Aramis, that where I go, my Putzie goes! And admit that you love her as much as I do.”
Saying nothing, Silva, led by Aramis, made their way to the doors.
“Keep your Putzie warm!” a lady called out, a smile in her eyes. “It’s not good for them to get too cold!”
“Yes Ma’am!” Silva called as she stepped off the huge bus after Aramis. “I’ll keep her good and warm. Aramis will help!”
Then with a jaunty wave, she watched as the doors closed and the busload of people waved back.
“Finally,” she snorted, her accent gone as quickly as it came.
With one last wave, that morphed into a one-fingered salute, the carrier on her arm, the Putzie, and the bubble headed joy that surrounded her disappeared. “I thought we would never survive the boredom of that trip.”
Turning back to Aramis, who was rolling his eyes at her antics, she smiled, a slow sinister smile.
“Will you stroke my pussy baby?” she whispered as she took a step closer to his towering form. “Will you feed it lots of hard things and keep it warm?”
“You are impossible.”
“No, what beer gut was thinking about doing to my Putzie,” she sneered in that accented voice, “Would be impossible. Or at least very painful for him and the mink. Possibly requiring several tetanus shots, stitches, and an anal probe, but you get all kinds on this run.”
“I don’t believe you did that?”
“Well you didn’t believe in much of anything…but me,”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I always believed in you Silva.”
“And that is good enough for me!” she crowed as she turned and stated to walk away, her long black plats swinging over her shoulders, her rounded rear wiggling away as she navigated the rocky road in five inch heels. “And for the record,” she called back, never turning around, confident that her mate would be following, “I always believed in you.”
A slow smile spread across Aramis’ face as he watched the woman of his soul, his heartbeat, his savior, his lover, walk away.
She knew he would follow. And damned if she wasn’t right.
It was hard to believe that a few short days ago, he was locked in his apartment, cowering form the world, and feeling trapped, relying on his one touchstone to keep him sane.
And then his touchstone came to life.