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It was just another night spent at the bar, a commonality for me at this point. It was almost funny in a way, considering my attire and profession, its surprising I had not picked up the habit sooner, maybe it was because I didn’t care that much about the flavor of liquor, or because I didn't like the idea of going to a pub, but being honest to myself, it was because I had no reason to drink before. But now I did, a great reason too.
“Hey buddy, I think you've had enough,” the bartender speaking brought me out of my internal monologue. This man knew me well, sure, he didn't know my name, but he knew what my usual was (whiskey on the rocks, stereotypical) and could tell when I looked like I was about to vomit it back out, and that was more than enough for me.
“You're probably right,” I slurred, trying to count in my head how many drinks I've had today, somewhere around 10? Potentially more, god knew I was thirsty, and the devil knew it never went away, but I knew better than to argue against the one man who could knock me back to sobriety if he wanted.
After tossing a few dollars into the counter I stood up from the barstool, stumbling over my own feet back to the streets. The night was cold and quiet, almost too quiet, would be surprised if there weren't any thugs getting up to no good at this hour, but I wasn't on the clock, and certainly wasn't in any condition to get involved. I was a lucky man, having my apartment so close to a cheap watering hole, if only I had luck with anything else that went on in my life.
Leaning over the wall for balance I fumbled over the keys, taking longer than I'd want to get the door to open. Finally able to go in I locked the door back on, checked twice for it to be actually locked, and then tripped over to my couch.
The place was small, a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen, all crammed into the space of what might as well be an office, with the lack of windows not helping with the claustrophobia, but I still remembered a time when it felt like a palace. It was back when I didn't have a home to call my own, when I would have been lucky if I found a half eaten burger on the garbage for me to eat, when I had to hide in shadows to make sure no one found me, and of course, she was here.
I slapped myself at that thought, it was a trap, I knew damn well how I spiraled when I even did as much as think about her, it was the reason why I went to the bar in the first place.
But she's difficult to get off my mind, isn't she? You'd get me if you had met her, probably the most beautiful dame to touch this earth, a literal goddess that graced me with her presence and kindness, who took care of me, who made me into the man I am today. And who left.
*“You've let yourself go since I left didn't you?”*
I turned around in shock, my eye filled with tears, that was her voice, I could recognize it in an instant. Where was she? Was she back? Was she finally back?
*“I wanted you to be a good man, detective, not some miserable drunk, what happened to you?”*
“You left, that's what happened,” I replied, a sob escaping my lips.
She didn't seem to be in the room, was she trying to play a prank on me? Was she in our bed? She must be, that's where we spent most of our time, in bed, her petting my fur as I laid on her thighs and forgot of the world around us. It was just the two of us, it will always be just the two of us.
I stumbled into our bed, I had refused to even touch it since she left, it still felt warm, still felt safe, I could feel my hands touching her skin in pleading.
*“You're quite the pathetic mutt, you know that, right?”*
“I know,” I felt her hands reach to my belt and taking it off roughly, just like the old times, I knew she'd be tying up my hands with that later. She slowly took down my pants, taking her sweet time, she always liked to take as long as she could with it, she liked to see me desperate.
*“There you are, you've been waiting for this, haven't you?”*
I could feel my human mask slipping as I barked for a reply, her hands moving to my knees and up to my crotch, she knew how much I loved that, how her mere touch made me go insane. I loved it when she touched me, when she pet me, when she pushed me, when she shoved her hands into my manhood and made me squeal, anytime she laid my hands on me it reminded me I was hers. I'm hers and only hers.
*“You're my cute little mutt, don't you forget that”*
*Yes, I'm yours, I'm yours and only yours, I was born to please you, to serve you, to be your loyal dog. I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours.*
Coming into the sheets I felt myself touch heaven, a sense of euphoria washing over me, one I had missed so deeply. It was only me and her, again, together.
But the buzz died down, as everything does, and I found myself looking around the room to see her again, finding nothing but my hand covered in my own filth.
I screamed in agony, and smashed my head into the nearest wall, the poor thing breaking with the impact, leaving my forehead bleeding as revenge for my attack. I was going insane, wasn't I?