by Pat Cunningham
Watching last week’s weather reports and seeing a lot of Lancaster County streets turning into rivers, it occurred to me not everyone would consider this a bad thing. To wit:
“C’mon in, babe! The water’s great!”
“Not in the front yard it isn’t,” Kelly said, but her retort broke on a giggle. She couldn’t help herself. Royer looked so funny sliding around on his belly across the sodden lawn. He could turn almost anything into a game, including a day-long, dreary storm. He had a knack for finding the fun in even the worst situations. His eternal optimism kept her spirits high. It was one of the reasons she’d married him.
Royer bounded up the steps and scooped her into his arms. The hot musk wafting off his rain-slicked, naked body enveloped her. The other reason she’d married him pressed like a hot prod against her thigh.
She giggled again. “At least put on a bathing suit. The neighbors – ”
“Screw ‘em.” His sinewy body wriggled against hers in lewd promise. “Y’know,” he purred in her ear, “screwing doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
The notion fired her own sense of mischief. “In the rain? Right out here in the yard?”
“Tempting,” he said. “But … “ He eyed the yard turned wading pool with undisguised longing, torn between his two greatest loves. “Tell you what. Give me five more minutes out here. Then I’ll come in and … ” He kissed her warmly. His whiskers tickled her nose. “Tell you all about it.”
She ground her hips against him. “Make it quick.”
Royer chuckled, then dove off the steps, shedding his human form as easily as he had his clothes. His sleek brown body flashed across the soggy grass like a rocket.
Kelly shook her head affectionately. “Otters.” She ducked inside to find a towel.
I'm really liking the new banner. Whose idea was that?