Chasing Her Tail (26 page)

Title

been in last. An hour? Two? How close was it to morning, when Carlson would return, intent on torturing Sam if she didn’t perform for him?

He was walking closer this time, pretending to be inspecting the medical equipment across the room while sneaking glances at Bridget. When he looked her way, she cocked her head and offered a paw.

The man started and stared, taking three steps toward her before stopping. Bridget sat up and begged. Starting to smile, the man walked closer, stopping ten feet from her cage. Turning over onto her back, she let her legs and ears flop where they would while she kept an upside-down eye on the man.

With a grin, he walked the rest of the way over until only four feet and the clear wall separated them.

“You’re supposed to be some crazy werewolf?” he asked her.

Encouraged by the skepticism in his voice, Bridget sat up and offered her paw again. It had worked well enough on Hammer at their first meeting.

“Look like just a big, dumb mutt to me.”

Swallowing back a growl at his description, Bridget wagged her tail and pawed at the wall, cocking her head in the most entreating way she could manage.

“Can’t. The boss’d kill me.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Really kill me.”

I could live with that
, Bridget thought, still annoyed that he’d broken into her home.

You might be my only hope of getting out of here but you’re still an asshole.

“Better get back to my rounds,” the guard told her, turning away. Bridget whined and he looked at her over his shoulder. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

She watched as he left the lab. Frustrated, she plopped down, resting her muzzle on her paws, settling in for another hour of boredom. Glancing idly over at Night, she caught his scent and stiffened.

He smelled…odd. Different than the dog that had chased her away from the farm, different than Micah, definitely different from Sam. Raising her head, she concentrated on his scent, mentally cursing her inexperience.

Could he be human? Is he like us? If so, why does he smell so…strange?

She stared at him through the dim light but he was just a circle of blackness, as dark as his name suggested.

An hour later, the guard stopped by with his evening snack. Bridget’s mouth watered at the smell of his roast beef sandwich, so much that she was humiliated to realize she was literally drooling on the floor. Swallowing, she tried to restrain herself.

“Want half?” the guard offered. At Bridget’s eager whine, he opened a narrow panel next to the door and slid it through. She ate it in two bites. Somehow, the taste of the sandwich made the guard seem almost bearable. Then she remembered his fascination with hookers and he lost the few points the sandwich had earned him.

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The man laughed. “Enjoy it, mutt. That’s the last beef you’re getting for a long time.

The boss likes to give the kid dog food and the dog people food, milk in a carton and cans of peaches—you know, that kind with the pull-off lid? Shit that only people can open up. Thinks it’ll encourage you to do that changing thing.”

Sitting with his back propped against her cage, he chewed on his half of the sandwich. Bridget lay down next to the wall serving as his backrest, pretending to herself that her motive was purely to get information. In no way was she hoping for another sliver or two of beef.

“The thing is,” he said under his breath between bites, “that all this guy thinks about are dog people. I mean, what kind of obsession is that? I get obsessions about tits or ass or things like that, but dog people?” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if they even exist.”

Bridget’s ears perked up at that.

Shoving the last bite into his mouth, he said with his mouth full, “That one’s been here for a week,” he jerked his head toward Night’s cage, “and nothing. So I’m thinking, why are we guarding two dogs and a little kid?” The guard waved a hand toward Sam’s sleeping form but didn’t look at the boy. Instead, he stared at the floor silently for several seconds.

Bridget’s brain raced. What should she do? How could she use this guy’s lukewarm attack of conscience to her advantage? Before she could compile her thoughts into an actual plan of action, the guard climbed to his feet.

“But whatever,” he said with a shrug. “It pays the bills so why should I care whether some old guy is totally wacko? Thanks for hanging out with me though, mutt.

Graveyard shift gets a little lonely around here.”

He walked out of the lab whistling, leaving Bridget wild with frustration.

She hated to do it. It went against every instinct she had. Bridget
knew
her plan could backfire in the worst way but it was her only chance. The guard had done his lab walk three more times, stopping by to chat at Bridget each time. She was assuming his visits were hourly, which meant his shift was probably nearing its end. She knew this guard. She knew his, as he called it, “obsession”.

Just suck it up and do it!
Taking a deep breath, Bridget changed.

Minutes ticked by and Bridget was beginning to worry that she’d missed her window of opportunity, that the guard’s shift had ended and it would be Carlson walking in on her in all her naked glory. She began to shiver. Carlson wouldn’t care that she was a woman or naked or anything like that. He would just be thrilled that she’d changed—and in front of cameras, no less.

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Shit.
What had she done? What a horrible mistake. Now there was a recorded image of her changing. Could the guard have been watching? She quickly dismissed the possibility. He would have come running in the second he saw that.

Shivering, her nipples prickled into hard points, Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and began to turn away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the guard walk in and she whipped back around, forcing herself to drop her arms and take the pose she’d been practicing since she changed. Bridget had no idea whether this was a sexy pose or not but it was the best she had. She taught first graders, for God’s sake! Sexy poses were not part of the elementary education curriculum.

The guard took three steps into the lab and froze.

“Hi,” she said in what she’d hoped would be a sexy, throaty voice but came out sounding more like the croak of a dying frog.

“Wha…” He stared, his mouth open. “How…?”

Bridget didn’t know what to say next. Her plan had been wiped completely from her mind. She just stared back, naked and shivering and horrified that she was standing bare-assed in front of a stranger—a house-breaking stranger!

He made a sound that wasn’t a word or even related to a word and took a step back. Panic rose in Bridget. He was going to run out of the room and call Carlson! She couldn’t let him do that.

“Wait!” she called. He actually did stop and she almost fell over with relief. “Come over and talk.” She shot a quick glance over to Sam and was grateful he was still asleep.

The poor kid didn’t need any additional trauma, especially in the form of seeing his teacher naked.

The guard hesitated and she held her breath. When he took a slow step toward her, she smiled, lightheaded with relief.

“It’s okay,” she encouraged him. “I don’t bite.”

Her teasing tone must have pricked his ego because he straightened his shoulders and walked toward her, stopping in front of her cage. His eyes ran up and down her body before flicking back to her face, his expression a mix of disbelief and fear and a heavy portion of lust. The lust gave her hope.

“You never told me your name,” she said, attempting a purr and feeling fairly satisfied with the result.

“R-Ricky,” he said, flushing at the slight stutter.

“Ricky,” she murmured. “Thank you for the sandwich, Ricky.”

His eyes bulged as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping. “No, ah, no problem.

You really…? It was you that…?” He trailed off, gulping again.

Bridget smiled, not answering.

“So the boss was right?” the guard asked.

She just shrugged. “All I know, Ricky, is that changing always makes me really, really horny.” Hoping that he couldn’t see how her hands were shaking, she caught her 139

Katie Allen

nipples and pinched them, half-closing her eyes in what she hoped looked like mindless desire and not complete terror.

His breath hissed out and she focused on him. Ricky’s eyes were locked on her breasts as if he were hypnotized. She felt a surge of power laced with utter disgust for this man who was so easily controlled and she wondered if this was how strippers felt on a regular basis.

“Can you do anything for me, Ricky?” she breathed.

His head came up and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You just want me to let you out.”

“You could always come in here,” she suggested, running her fingertips across her belly. “I
need
you, Ricky. Please?” The last word came out with a baby-talk lilt and Bridget caught herself. He was already suspicious. She couldn’t go over the top.

Glancing at Ricky, Bridget realized she needn’t have worried. The wary expression was gone and his face had gone slack, his gaze following the trail of her fingers as she caressed the skin immediately above the triangle of hair.

“I can’t.” He licked his lips, gesturing at the camera without looking away from the movement of her hand. “It’s being filmed. My boss would see.”

“And a smart guy like you can’t find a way around that?” She cupped her breasts.

“Create some kind of…technical difficulty?” She could almost see his brain working as he digested that.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, licking his lips again. “But I don’t have the key to open the cage.”

Bridget dropped her hands and stared at him. “What do you mean you can’t open the door?” she demanded.

His face flushed. “I don’t have the security clearance,” he muttered. Bridget wanted to reach through the wall and strangle the bastard.
After all this…
She hesitated, examining his face closely. Something in his expression, a look of indecision, made her wonder if all was lost after all.

“Please, Ricky.” She turned the sex kitten voice on again as her hands returned to her breasts. “Isn’t there some way you could get in here?”

“Well…” He rubbed the bulge tenting his uniform pants.

Yes!
Bridget knew it—he did know a way to open her cell. She just had to push him a little more. “You don’t understand how hot I get when I change, Ricky,” she said, feeling like an actress in a really cheesy porno flick. “Any way you want it and I’ll be wet and ready for you. Tell me how you like it, Ricky.”

He opened his mouth and shut it, then swallowed hard.

“Do you want your c-cock in my mouth?” she guessed, tripping a little over the word “cock”. She didn’t think she’d ever said it out loud before. “Me on my knees in front of you while you fuck my mouth until I choke?”

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Ricky was actually panting, his mouth open as he sucked in air. Sweat beaded on his cheeks and glued his hair to his forehead in greasy tendrils.

Bridget figured he needed another nudge. “Or maybe you’d rather fuck my pussy.

Will you take me up against a wall or on the bed?” She walked over to the narrow cot and lounged on the mattress, trying to hold a seductive pose on her side without falling off. “Will you fuck me like this?” She turned over and pushed up to her hands and knees. Ricky made a gargling sound that Bridget assumed meant yes.

She slid off the bed and walked back toward him, noting how red his face was. “Or maybe,” she purred, moving so close to the glass that her nipples barely touched the cool, smooth surface, “you’d shove my face into the pillow and fuck my ass, would you like that?”

His face turned almost purple as his gaze darted to her face. He looked slightly guilty as the hand on his crotch moved faster.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Bridget lied, her lips so close to the Plexiglas that she fogged the surface with steam. “You could fuck my ass until I scream.”

He jerked, doubling over.

Did he just come?
Bridget wondered, worried that she’d pushed him over the edge.

She wanted him to get her
out
, not get himself off. When he straightened, though, she saw that the bulge in his pants was as big as ever.

He opened his mouth and it took a few tries before he managed to get some words out. “There’s…ah…there’s an automatic release mechanism that’s tripped by the fire alarm. So that…whatever’s in the cages wouldn’t be trapped if there’s a fire.”

Jackpot!
Bridget restrained the urge to jump up and down. “That’s it then,” she said, fighting to keep the triumph out of her voice. “Just start a tiny fire in a garbage can and I’m yours.”

Ricky looked doubtful. “How am I supposed to explain that to the firemen when they arrive?”

“Just call it in right after the alarm goes off,” Bridget told him, thinking fast. “Say it’s a false alarm. That’ll give us the rest of your shift. We’ll have hours together.”

Glancing at his watch, Ricky shook his head. “Forty-five minutes. How’ll I explain it to my boss?”

Oh for God’s sake
,
do I have to plan this whole thing? Isn’t it enough that I’m standing here
naked in front of your sleazy ass?
Bridget bit back her impatience and forced a sultry smile.

“False alarm works for him too. Won’t it be worth it to have almost an hour to do whatever you want with me? To have your cock buried in my ass, so tight and hot and,” she racked her brain for another adjective and came up empty, “tight?”

He didn’t seem to notice her lack of imagination since he was staring at her breasts again.

“You know those letters in
Penthouse
?” she asked, knowing that she had only forty-five minutes before her opportunity for escape walked right out the door.

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“Yeah?”

“Instead of being a guy who reads those letters and wishes it was him, you could be one who writes them,” she told him. “And this letter would actually be true.”

“What do you mean?” He scowled. “They don’t make up those letters.”