======== Path: news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!news.texas.net!news.frontiernet.net!news.his.com!news2.cais.net!news.cais.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!news.ios.com!ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net!user From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Breeders (8/9) "The Breeders" Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 08:05:06 -0700 Organization: Internet Online Services Lines: 556 Message-ID: <grobert-1904960805060001@ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: ppp-11.ts-3.la.idt.net Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:146998 Chapter 12 "Tamarack," Carolyn enunciated as clearly as possible for the ticket agent. "Tamarack, West Virginia. It's just a little place, just below Charlestown about twenty or thirty miles." The ticket agent ran a stubby finger down the list of stops on his bus schedule, flipped over the page and ran down a second line of numbers. "Oh yeah, here it is. Tamarack, West Virginia. Well, if you take the next bus ‹ that's at 7:30 tomorrow morning ‹ you will get in there about 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. It's not a regular stop, you understand, but the driver will let you off if you ask him to." "Isn't there a bus tonight?" Carolyn asked hopefully. "I sure don't want to sit in the depot all night." "Sorry, lady," the fat little man answered, "only one bus going that way a'tall. It's only a secondary highway, you know, t'ain't no highspeed toll road. It's 7:30 tomorrow or nothing. Less you want to take the plane into Charlestown and then a bus out of there maybe?" "No," she frowned, "No, I'll wait for the bus. Thank you anyway." "Yes ma'am." Carolyn turned abruptly and bumped into the man standing behind her, apologized without looking up, and went into the Ladies Lounge. A few minutes later, she pushed her way through the squeaking door of the women's room and walked slowly into the lobby of the half-deserted bus depot once more. Well, it was going to be a long night. She had better find a restaurant before she settled in for the night. It had been hours since she had eaten ‹ not since early morning before Jason and the dogs and the opportunity for escape ‹ and she was feeling a little queasy in her stomach. She wondered fleetingly if it was from lack of food or the let down after her flight to freedom. Whatever it was, she could sure do without it. She walked over to the cigarette counter. A tall attractive man in a business suit walked up beside her. Together they waited for the clerk to finish the word on his crossword puzzle and notice them. "Oh," he finally realized he was not alone, "Can I help you, mister?" "The lady was first." He smiled at Carolyn and touched his hat. She smiled back. "I only wanted to ask if there was a restaurant near here that might be open this time of night?" She was looking at the counter man but her mind was on the handsome stranger. How pleasant to meet a man without a dog by his side, she thought bitterly, a man who isn't interested in your sex. "I was going to ask the same thing," the handsome man laughed. He turned to the clerk and smiled. "Maybe you should be selling sandwiches instead of cigarettes." "Matter o'fact I do," came his monotoned reply and he reached beneath the counter and came up with a pair of mangled sandwiches. "Lessee, I got one boloney with mustard and one salami 'n cheese. I make 'em up myself at home." The tall man looked at the sandwiches then at Carolyn and smiled as if they shared a big secret. He put his hand on her elbow and turned her away from the counter. "I do thank you," he chuckled, "but what we really had in mind was something more along the order of a nice medium rare steak. Isn't that right?" Carolyn was caught up in his ready smile and nodded in agreement. "Is there some place ...???" "Well now," the clerk sat back down on his stool and picked up the crossword puzzle, "There's always the Pickwick Hotel down the street if ya don't mind paying fancy hotel prices??" "Thank you." He turned to Carolyn and guided her toward the door, his firm hand still on her arm. "You will let me take you to dinner, won't you? Somehow I can't envision a lovely girl like you eating salami and cheese." "Well, I really don't know ... I'm just waiting for my bus change," Carolyn was reluctant. After all, he was an absolute stranger. "... and we haven't been properly introduced?" He smiled. "Something like that," she smiled back. "It's really quite proper, you know," he said frowning with exaggerated concern. "We've run into each other before." "We have?" "Of course! Don't you remember ... you stepped on my toe at the ticket counter, Miss Tamarack West Virginia." "Oh, that was you. I'm sorry. I just didn't notice who it was." Carolyn laughed an apology. "I really am sorry, you know." "If you're really sorry, then you must let me take you to dinner to prove it." "I'm afraid I don't look much like going out to dinner anywhere," she apologized. "You see, I left ... where I was ... in rather a hurry and I didn't take time to pack a bag or anything. This is all I have and, well, I don't look very presentable." "You look charming!" He smiled down at her. Yes, he had noticed that she had no luggage. That was why he had followed her to the counter, why he had invited her to dinner. This was a central transfer point for all major bus lines out of New York City. There were many pretty girls who arrived on the New York bus without luggage, down on their luck and usually pretty hungry. Pretty girls who left their small home towns with stars in their eyes and their brags of success still ringing in their ears ... Pretty girls who came home eventually when all else failed, tired, hungry and broke. But still pretty ... It was the desperate pretty girls who were easy prey for Paul J. Price. "Just long enough to get enough money to go home in style." That's how he always put it to them. "At a hundred dollars a night, honey, you can go home like a Queen!" Carolyn Vance didn't care about going home a queen. She didn't even care about going home. Tamarack, West Virginia, wasn't her home. It was only a small town with a pretty name on a map. She had done a childish thing ‹ closed her eyes and pointed blindly at a spot on a map. And the spot had been Tamarack. She had only wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, where no one knew her. She wanted to start over fresh and clean and smelling of Chantilly instead of dog. But most of all, Carolyn wanted to learn to make love to a man ... to many men, perhaps ... not to dogs. Mr. Paul J Price, for all his continental manner and experience, was surprised when the pretty girl he had met but moments before answered his proposition to become a high-priced prostitute with a simple chaste "all right." But then Mr. Price didn't know about dogs ... Or why it was so vitally important for her to know about men ... * * * "You're very generous," Carolyn smiled at the balding conventioneer, and tucked the folded bills into her bra. "Think nothing of it, honey, when Henry Pippen's in town, the sky's the limit! How about a little nightcap, baby?" His pudgy fingers poked at her ribs and Carolyn winced. "We been having us a time for over an hour. I'll just bet you could use a little 100 proof courage. Bet you don't run into many men my age who can keep a pretty young girl like you busy for an hour, huh? Huh?" Carolyn smiled and lowered her eyes naively. No, she thought and fought to keep from yawning openly, not many, not more than fifteen or twenty a week ... and most of them make love just as poorly as you. She opened the door and leaned against the sill. "Not tonight, Mr. Pippen." She declined as gracefully as possible. "I'm awfully tired. Perhaps next time you're in town, hmmmm?" "Sure thing, little girl." He reached into his inside coat pocket and handed her a business card. "You ever get down my way now, you give me a call, ya hear?" Carolyn nodded and smiled ... and closed the door on him. She leaned her back against the door and sighed, slowly tearing the business card into small even pieces. They fell to the floor in a flutter of white cardboard snow. Another dismal failure. Her guts felt like they were spread out in a frying pan. There was the same old burning sensation in her loins, it never seemed to go away any more. She leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes. How many had it been? Fifty, seventy-five? A hundred? At least. A hundred male bodies had paid their money and poked at her with a hundred eager cocks. A penis paradise for an insatiable female! Only it wasn't paradise. It was hell! 'Cause it never worked for her. A hundred strangers pumped her full of semen and were satisfied ... and still she ached. She had nearly three thousand dollars in the bank now. It represented three months on her back and it was enough to put her back on her feet again. She would tell him right now. Carolyn walked to the rumpled bed and sat down by the telephone. Slowly, carefully, she dialed the private number of Paul Price. It rang, then rang a second time. "Hello, Price here," came the deep masculine tone. "It's me, Paul ... Carolyn." "Through already, doll? Good!" his voice said he was pleased. "I've got another bunch from the Convention that should be good for a real bundle, kid. I'll send 'em up." "No," Carolyn said firmly. "No, don't send them up. I'm through, Paul. I'm going home." "What'dya mean, kid?" He growled over the phone. "You can't stand me up with a goddam Convention in town." "I'm not standing you up, Paul." She was trying to be patient, but patience weighed a lot on your shoulders when you were dead tired. "I told you when I started this thing that it was only for a little while. I had to prove something to myself. Or maybe it was un-prove something. I'm not quite sure. But I know when I've had enough. I'm going home." "To Tamany or wherever it was?" he said with disgust. "You won't be satisfied in a hick town, Carolyn, you won't even be able to have a good screw without the neighbors talking about it! How you gonna satisfy that hot mouse of yours in a hick town like Tamany?" "Tamarack," Carolyn said, "And I don't expect to satisfy it, if its any business of yours. I haven't been satisfied in months! Not once in months! I'm sick and tired of coming up with somebody else's kicks, Paul. I'm getting out. I'll leave your money in an envelope with the clerk downstairs ... and I'm catching the next bus out. Good bye, Paul." She laid the phone back in the cradle quickly before she could hear his crackling objections. It was over and done with. She would call the bus depot and find out when the next bus went to Tamarack. She ran her fingers across her aching stomach, scratched gently in the tangled mass of curls and massaged the hungry button in her wet crotch. She wondered fleetingly how the dogs were. Had they gotten safely away? Was someone taking care of them, exercising them, enjoying them? Eyes closed, she worried the needy flesh of her loins and remembered how it had felt to have one of the big Danes between her legs ... his thick rough tongue rubbing life into her, endlessly, tirelessly, until she couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed his harness and pulled him hard into her kneading hole where he would hump her into orgasm after orgasm ... and leave her weak and satisfied. Satisfied. Oh god, how she wished she could be satisfied that way again! How she would sleep! The brassy ring of the telephone shattered her memories. She reached over for the phone listlessly, sighed and answered its impatient jangle. "Hello?" "Don't hang up, kid. I just want to talk to you a minute." "What is it, Paul?" she sighed into the phone. "Answer me honestly now. I've done alright by you, haven't I, kid? I did what I said I'd do for you I sent you lots of guys, clean guys, guys with money to pay the tab. Right?" "Yes." "Then how about doing me fair? How about turning just one more trick tonight, kid? Just one more before you leave. I'm in a real bind. I promised these guys a real looker ... and you know how the word gets around. If I don't come up with something special, the word will get out that I don't have a good stable and it'll kill me for the rest of the conventions this year. Maybe even next year. How about it, kid? Come on, huh? Please?" Carolyn took the phone down from her ear, stared into the mouthpiece as if she could see Paul J. Price with his feigned hurt look, and shook her head. She returned the receiver to her ear in time to hear the last of his impassioned plea. "... won't ask you again, I promise!" She sighed. What was one more, really? It didn't matter. "Alright, Paul. One more. One more and I'll hold you to your word." "Thanks, kid," she could hear the relief in his voice. "I'll tell 'em to come on over. Five minutes okay? Fifteen?" "Make it fifteen, I need a shower," and then she remembered his exact words 'tell them to come over' ... "aaaa ... wait a minute ... did you say 'them'?" "Yeah ... aaa ... that's what I said. You know how Conventioneers are? Ha, ha, anything for a laugh?" "What's with the 'them' business?" she pinned him down. "Well, you know how it is. I got a call for a little group action. Three guys is all it is, just three. Probably reading a dirty book between meetings and it gave 'em ideas. They want to gang-bang a pretty girl. You know, watch each other do it to her. Nothing to it, kid. Just lay there and collect three times the fee." Carolyn listened to his playdown of the facts. She smiled to herself. Paul was scared she wasn't going to go along with the gang bit. Let him worry, damn him, would do him good. "Oh, I don't know about that ..." she purposely let her voice trail off. Let him sweat. Three at a time. It might be fun. It had been fun with the dogs! Hot, hotter and begging! She ran her finger across the little button box again and felt its answering twinge. Maybe that's why she hadn't made it with all those men in the past three months. Because they didn't last as long as the dogs. Maybe that was the trouble. Three men working her one after the other, or even all at once, might turn the trick. She had always had at least three, maybe four dogs in each training session and by the last one she was hotter than french fried nuts. She smiled wishfully. Never say die. She'd give it one more chance. "Come on, baby?" Paul was still pleading on the phone. "They're real nice Joes, good looking too. Why, you'll have a real blast. How about it, kid?" "Welllll, alright, Paul ... but just for you." She purred at him, then made a face into the phone. "And just this one last time. You understand that part of it." "Sure, kid, sure." He agreed readily. "Any thing you say. I'll send 'em over in about fifteen minutes, okay?" "Okay." She agreed. "... and Paul ... goodbye!" "So long, kid. Have fun in your hick town. Screw all those farmer boys silly." Carolyn replaced the telephone on the cradle. He just didn't understand. No one understood. And what was worse, she couldn't explain it. Not even to herself. How do you explain to a civilized socialized square-cornered world that you can only seem to cum under a dog? You don't! Your guts ache and you grit your teeth and pretend it doesn't matter ... while the rest of the world screw themselves sideways with their fellow man. Carolyn got up slowly and straightened up the bed, smoothing the sheets and plumping up the pillows. She took the folded bills from her bra and tucked them under the pile of lacy brassieres in the second drawer, then hurried into the little bathroom and turned on the shower. After the last rollicking romeo who graced her bed, she really needed a hot shower. Henry Pippen could sweat like a pig. She tucked her long hair into the shower cap and stepped in. Hmmmmmm, it felt good. Chapter 13 Ten minutes later, a pretty young girl was stretched out on the bed on her stomach casually flipping the pages of Glamour magazine. She was shaved, showered and foo-foo'd ... and bare ass naked. It always got things off to a fast start when a customer walked into a room smelling of faintly sexy perfume and found a nude woman already on the bed. Psychological, perhaps, but it was like 'instant hard-on' and it always worked. Especially if her clothes were hung up out of sight and the room was free of clutter and coverings. Just a big wall-to-wall bed ... and a bare body in the middle of it. Good business. A guy was hard put to get his pants off before the size of his dong got stuck in the zipper. It was a subtle production line technique. It netted her nearly twice the profit in a night as her fellow workers who opened the door chastely wrapped in a robe. After all, she was in it for profit, not pleasure. She smiled to herself and chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Tonight, perhaps, there would be a little pleasure too. She sure hoped so. It had been so long. She turned a page, then another and another, and then she saw it. The magazine advertisement ... 'some people do everything in a big way' it said ... a lovely blonde girl stood before the big new model Cadillac, one hand on the car door, the other resting on the shoulder saddle of a huge harlequin Dane ... 'big dog, big car, big savings' it said in great glaring print 'why not have the very best?' Carolyn looked at the ad with a look of gentle longing. It was a magnificent animal, a truly fine male. When the soft knock sounded at her hotel room door, the voice from within brought raised eyebrows and learing smiles to the faces of the three men who stood there. "Come in ..." a honeyed voice purred from within, "Come innnn ... the door's open." There was a fumbling at the knob and three tall rather embarrassed looking faces peered down at her naked body on the bed. Languidly, Carolyn rolled over on her back and looked straight up into three pair of surprised wide eyes, one knee bent and waving gently over her body. She waited till they closed the door. "Hellloooo," she whispered hoarsely up at them. "Aaa ... aaa ... hello." One of the men stammered "Aaa ... I'm Bill ... and that's Harry ... and that's, that's??? What's his name?" he whispered to Harry. "Hello whats-his-name!" Carolyn looked up at him with deliberately wide innocent eyes. It was hard not to smile when the man gulped noisily and nodded his head. "Aaa ... what can we call you?" the first man said. Carolyn turned her head to stare up into his red face. "You can call me ... in time for seconds ... all around!" She purred in the much practiced professional voice which had put $3,000 in the bank for her in the past months. She stretched luxuriously, spreading her naked body into a wide ivory-bodies X upon the deep red bedspread. "Jesus!" someone said reverently. Carolyn crooked her finger suggestively at the nearest man, the tall older man they referred to as Harry, and patted the bed beside her. "Aren't you sort of uncomfortable with all those clothes on ... Harry???" she purred again. "I'll just bet you all look better without them." She let her eyes roam between the three men, starting on their surprised faces and sliding suggestively down over their padded shoulders to the virtuously zipped flies of their dark blue suits, pausing a moment to stare at the growing bulges, to purse her full lips and lick them with her tongue. Slowly. The men seemed frozen to the floor. Good grief, she thought, real country bumpkins. She'd take care of that. She stretched once more, then let one hand slide down over her flat stomach and play with the dark curls of her crotch. "I wish you'd all hurrrry ..." she sighed and let her middle finger slide in and out between the hairy lips. Clothes began to fly. She heard the sound of one, no two, buttons ripped from the cloth and rattle across the floor. She watched the spider-veined arms appear out of shirt sleeves, flabby muscles shake in their hurry, skinny legs and knobby knees, fat soft stomachs and hairy flopping balls. Carolyn watched without expression. They were a far cry from the lean hard-muscled animals with their sleek well-groomed coats and their bright honest eyes. Suddenly she was surrounded by white sunless buttocks and grasping hands, and she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to the slack lips and probing cigar-tasting tongues. "Beautiful tits," she heard a voice say and felt a squeezing hand and a hot wet mouth. "Hey, d'ja see this? She shaves!" and a callused working man's hand rubbed hard across the inner lips of her tender flesh. "She's got hair out where it shows ... and she shaves between her legs! Isn't that a crazy idea?" "You know what that means, don't ya?" Another male voice chuckled in response. "That means she's one of the ones that likes it all the way. You know, french!" "You mean she likes to ... to ..." "Yeah, ya dumb bastard. She'll even let ya eat it!" "Jesus!" Carolyn felt the hot breath on her legs first. Even with her eyes closed, she could follow his faltering progress on his virgin trip into the interior. He was on his knees at the end of the bed, she could tell, and he had very gently pressed her legs apart and was poking experimentally at the parted lips. She deliberately snapped them at him, and was instantly rewarded by a gasp as he sucked in his breath. She felt the hot breath come closer and closer. Spreading her legs as far as her position would allow, she waited for the wonderful feel of a warm tongue between her legs. There was a light brush of his lips and he pulled away. What in the hell, she thought, oh please don't let him quit already. She moaned softly and wriggled her hips invitingly. There was no other way to ask for it, one of the men had buried his thick tongue in her mouth and the other was licking all over her breasts. Her arms were pinned beneath them. She couldn't say anything or reach out and pull his face between her legs. She wriggled the hairy little hole again. There was a harsh groan from the vicinity of her parted legs and the feel of his five o'clock shadow rubbing hard against the tender flesh. His short stiff tongue made quick exploring stabs into her hole. Ohhhh it did feel good. Not so good as the long hot thick tongues of the Danes who used to lick her from anus to button. But it felt good. She began to suck on the probing tongue in her mouth. It tasted of stale tobacco and bourbon but it was stiff and it was eager and responded instantly to her sucking invitation. It buried itself deeper into her welcoming mouth, making crude wet sounds as he gasped occasionally for air, groaning when she sucked hard and moved her puckered mouth up and down over it like a working penis in her feathery hole. The man at her breasts had stopped kissing them and was watching his friend's extended tongue screwing in and out of the prostitute's sucking mouth. God, it made him hot! He looked down at the man between her open legs and watched him bury his face in her wet crotch and come up damp and shiny from her hot cunt. Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! He never knew anything like this went on. Leastwise he never took part in it before ... or watched it right before his eyes. His own hot cock was throbbing so he thought it would burst. He wanted to shove it in her paid-for pussy but it was full of mouth. His friend's stiff tongue was still screwing the other end. God. He was gonna bust, sure as billy hell. He looked desperately at her rolling body, and the big breasts which rolled and pitched with their own full weight. Suddenly he raised up to his knees and straddled her body, burying his aching rod between the fat breasts, holding them tight together with his hands and began to thrust into them. The head of his fat penis peered out the other side of her compressed boobs and pointed straight at her face. In and out it went, back and forth between the firm heavy globes. It wasn't wet like a woman's cunt but it was exciting. Exciting. He watched the man's tongue still pummeling her mouth, watched her cheeks suck in and pull at it. He watched the man's swinging prick as it rocked between his knees. He turned his head as far as he could and saw that the pussy eater had raised to his knees and was skinning back his hard cock ready to throw it to her. She knew it had begun. After a hundred cocks in heat, she knew all the symptoms. She could feel the jarring rhythm of the man squatting over her breasts and the leaking warning that spewed forth in small droplets on her white skin. It was too late for him to stop now, he would spill out his sperm and waste it ... and she had not begun to cum. Now the man at her thighs began the regular pumping which meant the beginning of the end. So soon? She cried silently. Not so soon! She began a frantic thrusting of her own heated pelvis. Maybe she could make it before it was too late ... but the desperate heaving of her body against his was like a fuse to his ramming penis and he came in short, jabbing, jerking movements, filling her with the evidence of his own satisfaction but leaving her brimful of need. No, she thought. No! No! No! She tried to pull her mouth away from the hot tongue of the excited man who kneeled beside her. He thought she was trying to get away from him because she was nearing the point of orgasm ... and he had done this to a professional prostitute with only his tongue. How exciting! Too exciting, he felt the beginning rush of hot semen in his dangling balls, racing up the heavy vein beneath his short fat penis and there it was, jerking its wet wonders out on to the girl's arm pinned between his legs and on the red bedspread. Christ, he thought, what a waste of money. He'd have to pay the broad fifty bucks each for the three of them and all he got was a bedspread fuck while she frenched his tongue. Damn bitch probably did it on purpose. She probably got him hot so he'd do it that way and she wouldn't have to clean up afterwards. Christ. Fifty bucks apiece. He looked at his friend and saw his sperm running in slow trails across the woman's chest. He'd got screwed out of any cunt too. The other guy, whats-his- name from Charing, Oklahoma, was squatting over her hairy twat, and looking sorta embarrassed and silly about it. Well, maybe he got a little tail but that was probably only cause she was so busy fuckin' the two of them out of their just desserts. Christ, he repeated out loud, Christ. He eased back off the girl's arm, careful not to smear up his own legs with the cum that wet the spread. He looked down at her in disgust. She lay still, breathing hard, her face turned to the wall. She looked almost like she might be ready to cry or something. What'd she have to bawl about? He was the one who got screwed out of a hundred and fifty bucks cold cash. He could'a jacked off on the John and still had the hundred and fifty. Christ. He pulled his pants on and zipped up his fly angrily. "Come on, you guys. Stick it back in your pants and let's get the hell out of this clip joint." He grumbled and watched the two men raise organs on the edge of the spread. He looked at his watch and shook his head. "Not quite twenty minutes. Can you imagine that? Not even twenty minutes and this fuckin' broad makes a hundred and fifty bucks for just laying there and making us do all the work. That's Atlantic City for ya. Next year I'm gonna insist they hold it in Hoboken like we said. Christ." He pulled three fifty dollar bills from his money clip and slammed them on the bare dresser top. "There ya are, chippy. A hundred and fifty smackeroos and you got three good screws to boot. What a racket!" he pulled open the door. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here. Why waste any more time on her?" Carolyn didn't move. She didn't open her eyes or move away from the thick white puddles of semen that ran down her sides and made wet spots on the dark red spread. It had happened again. Nothing. Nothing. Three normal men had paid to have sex with her and she should have been excited and she should have cum and she should have ... should have ... she should have gone home to Tamarack on the early bus like she planned to do. It wasn't any use. It was her. There was something wrong with her. She raised up and sat on the edge of the bed and her eyes fell upon the open magazine lying on the floor a few feet beyond where one of the men had thrown it. It was still open to the advertisement for the big new Cadillac Convertible ... and the picture of the big harlequin Dane. Carolyn stared at the picture for several minutes. A single tear welled in her eye, slipped over the brim and made a wet train down over her tender tit with its teeth marks and blood burns. * * * "Where'd you say you lived, Miss?" the man behind the long counter asked curiously. "The old Martindale place?" "Yes, I believe that was the name the real estate man said would be on the escrow papers, Martindale or something like that." She smiled up at him. "Hmmmm," he shook his head dubiously. "Kind of a lonely old place for a pretty young lady like you, seems to me." Carolyn smiled tolerantly. Tamarack was a friendly town, and a curious one as well, but then most small towns were. It was all part of being friendly. "Will that be cash or check, Miss?" he asked when no further information was forthcoming. "Cash." Carolyn answered quietly, counting out the bills. "Four, five, six hundred dollars and ... what did you say was the tax? Three dollars? Six hundred and three dollars. There you are. You can just mail the pedigrees to me when they're ready." She picked up the two heavy choke chain collars and walked over to the viewing runs. "Oh, we'll have them delivered to you, Miss. Just - as soon as the Missus gets back from Charlestown with the big station wagon." The kennel man said anxiously. "They're pretty big animals, even if they are pups. Must weigh all of eighty, maybe even a hundred pounds each! You just don't know how big them Great Danes get, little lady. You couldn't handle them all by yourself." Carolyn smiled. "I forgot to tell you, Mr. Norris," she smiled up at him. "I'm a professional dog trainer. I have a great deal of ... of experience ... with Great Danes." "You?" the kennel man said incredulously, "A pretty little thing like you train Great Danes???" Carolyn nodded. "But ... but you're so small and delicate like," he stammered, finding it hard to believe, "Aren't you afraid of them?" "Mr. Norris," Carolyn smiled a little sadly, "I'd be afraid to try and get along without them." She walked back to the runs, slipped the gate hasp and swung it wide open. As the first playful pup jostled his way through the opening, Carolyn slid the heavy choke chain about his neck and pulled him down firmly on his haunches. He looked up at her with surprise. She walked up close before him, pressed his massive head against her legs and scratched him behind the ears. "Good boy. Sit! Sit!" She smiled down at the inquisitive big eyes and pressed his head hard against her legs again. He sniffed, and let his head remain against her tight capri pants. "Good boy. I think I'll call you Monarch." Holding Monarch's chain securely in one hand, she moved to the other run and released the gate catch. A moment later, another huge beast rested against her leg and lowered his head between her legs to have his ears scratched. "Samson," she said slowly. "You are built like a Samson,