Pawfection

Sunlight glinted off the gleaming metal worktops and bare tiled splashback. The drab motif of white and silver gave the room the clinical look of a surgery, softened by random pictures on the walls depicting lush green landscapes and mountain ranges. Not that the patrons could comprehend the starkness of the room, nor appreciate the attempt to cheer it up slightly.

A gentle breeze buffeted the ancient, gnarled oak tree that grew just outside the window. Swaying branches caused light and shadow to dance and frolic across the back wall. A single bead of water hung from the tap spout, catching the sunlight at just the right angle to display the full spectrum of colours across its surface.

Mark admired his handiwork with a satisfied smile. Half an hour with some J-Cloths and Mr Muscle; urged on by the jaunty, upbeat rhythm of Reel Big Fish and a tendency to sing with more passion than skill, and the austere room had recovered from another day in the exciting world of dog grooming.

Thankfully the aroma of wet dog had been replaced by the brisk zesty lemon cleaner, the smell complimenting the beautiful summers day outside and mingling with the fresh fragrance of cut grass that drifted through the open window. Most of the owners commented on the beauty of the day, how great it was to finally get an attempt at summer and how it was a shame he was stuck indoors. A few even hinted how 'nice' it would be if Mark could arrange home visits, with the meaningful wink and subtlety of a serial rapist. Same shit different day as the old adage went.

Mark, however, didn't like Summer. It was far too hot. He sweated like a Sabbat on a school bus (creepy bastards), and everyone else seemed to want it hotter!? Mark's personal thermometer went as high as 24°C. Afterwards, you found the self-explanatory increments such as Hot and Fucking Hot make an unwelcomed appearance. It made him bitchy, and he was already a bit of a bastard at the best of times.

Crossing the room to his laptop; agreeing that everyone was indeed 'an asshole' as he mangled the chorus, Mark turned off the music and glanced at the clock above the door. The numbers 3, 6, 9 and 12 had been replaced with brass paw prints. Why his friends and relatives got the idea that because he worked with dogs, everything in his life had to be dog-related, he didn't know? As thoughtful as they were, sometimes he'd settle for no thought at all and for them to just stop buying him tat he didn't need or want. Thankfully it was subtle and nowhere near as tasteless as some of the gaudy, brash pieces he had seen. Still, he didn't entirely trust the clock. It was a stupid notion, but he felt as if it was watching him.

4:50 pm Quick walk to the shops, grab something for supper; as there was no chance he was cooking tonight, then the rest of the evening was free.

"Better see if Bisgrove wants anything. Probably something carnivorously meaty with hot sauce." Mark mumbled to himself, a characteristic he had developed while working with creatures that couldn't talk and probably didn't care in the first place. He fished out his phone from the depths of his pocket while pitying Bisgrove's digestive system.

"Actually, if Bisgrove could be persuaded to get off his fat arse and do something that didn't involve sitting in front of a computer all night yelling abuse at people, we could go to The Moorings." Mark tapped his phone against his bottom lip while he pondered, still humming the annoyingly catchy song that refused to depart.

"I'd need to offer to buy his meal to prise that gelatinous arse of his out of the heavily strained computer chair, but his lack of self-respect makes for an excellent wingman!" Mark liked that idea. The Moorings had a decent menu for a pub, inclination to only play proper Rock/Metal and Dala, the stereotypical pirate-loving Mereshark that worked behind the bar. Hopefully, she was working tonight. Just the thought of her lewd toothy grin coupled by the immodestly tight and short blouses she wore that only just contained her heaving bosom. A wazzer pair of jugs, if ever he saw!

Mark hadn't forgotten her unsubtle advances from last weekend, even through the dizzying cider haze that had profoundly influenced his judgement. Why did he start; and then continue to participate in, a three-man mosh pit? Well, it was more like rambunctious loitering with intent. This day may be glorious after all! Though he wasn't dressing as a pirate again, even if they did offer 10% off.

Mark started sounding out the message as he typed, delicately tapping his touch screen with a stylus. His fingers had a tendency to mash three letters at once, which in turn would cause him to fall out with his predictive-text.

"I saved all these curse words to your dictionary, useless piece of crap!" Mark flung his head back with a throaty growl in an over-exaggerated show of frustration.

"Why would I want to call someone a fat barstool?"

The front door to reception opened then closed with hushed deliberation. It's strange how attempting to do something subtly seemed to make it more noticeable. Mark's dramatised rant stopped as he frowned, straining to listen. Mark found that frowning made your hearing better. Fact! He was sure he turned the sign from Open to Closed, a familiar ritual that seemed ingrained to anyone that owned an independent business.

Pad, pad, pad.

The sound of soft footsteps? Mark jumped as a petite figure appeared in the doorway leading from reception, too busy listening instead of looking. Luckily, he managed to stifle a girlish cry of surprise and merely grunted. Hopefully, he didn't make too much of an arse of himself, but Humiliation was an old friend. The bastard often turned up out of the blue, crashing on the couch and lingering around for a couple of days before leaving a trail of social destruction in its wake.

With her left arm raised as if to knock, a jovial-looking Kobold smiled at Mark. She hesitated; biting her lip, then lowered her paw as her hazel eyes focussed on his own. That was a dangerously disarming smile on such a cute creature. Mark took her in with a quick glance, taking a deep breath to settle his burst of adrenaline, his heart hammering in his chest. The pounding in his ear like his own personal drumbeat.

She wore a pair of tight, vibrant red sports shorts that cut off mid-thigh; showing off her fluffy knees, a white strappy top that was snug across her modest chest and a loose leather collar with a small silver tag in the shape of a bone. Her coat was the colour of golden wheat, peppered with streaks of black and white, and was shaggy around the knees, elbows, hips and shoulders. The fur poked out haphazardly in places, giving her a somewhat bedraggled appearance. Her floppy ears drooped against her thick mane of hair; a deeper yellow than her fur; which cascaded down her back, halting just above her taut backside which swayed slightly as her fluffy tail swished back and forth. All-in-all, Mark got the distinct impression that she had just gotten out of bed and added a cheeky little charm to her slovenly appearance.

"Uhh, hey!" Mark's voice sounded harsh in the awkward silence, but he felt it was weak and strained. Not one of his best or most confident greetings when faced by a cute girl. It really didn't help that her grin widened like she was privy to some joke that he had missed. Probably the dumb look on his face, followed by the realisation Mr Humiliation was knocking on the door. Excitement sparkled in her eyes. Mark found her beguiling. He also found it bloody unnerving like the capricious nature of a Cheshire Cat but refused to admit it to himself.

The Kobold, displaying all the characteristics of a coiled spring, turned to face him properly. Her right arm was tucked under her breasts, cradled in a sling, the paw hanging limply. How Mark didn't notice was beyond him, though he grudgingly confessed her delicate curves were quite the distraction.

"Um, you do walk-ins?" Her voice was chirpy, and her smile softened when confronted by his discomfort, yet an eagerness still lurked in her posture.

'I'd happily do them if they all looked like you!' breached Mark's initial defences, bypassing all checks for social acceptability and barrelled towards his tongue at a frightening speed. The brain kicked in just in time, throwing out a desperate plea to intercept Mark's honesty and was rewarded with a sharp cough. Having cleared the tickle in his throat, Mark glanced at the clock again, tucking his phone away. The half composed abusive message was forgotten as he gave a mental sigh.

"I do." His voice was hesitant, thoughts blundered about frantically as he brought himself to heel and under control.

"What would be the name of the customer?" Mark already had an idea where this was going but had decided to play ignorant. Partly because his potential plans for the evening were evaporating before him, partly because he was hungry and tired. This frequently made him grumpy. In fact, he should've just said no and sent her packing, but something stirred in his subconscious. A gut feeling as it were. Also, she was kind of cute. Even if she did make him feel like a naughty boy that had just been caught trying to look up girl's skirts.

"Lilly. Nice ta meetcha!" The words gushed from her mouth, enthusiasm causing them to jostle for position as they tumbled towards his ears. In contrast, her own ears perked slightly as she gave a lazy salute with her left paw.

Mark smiled in what he hoped was a friendly and reassuring manner. Trying not to appear like a rabbit in the headlights. She wielded cheerfulness like a sledgehammer!

"Well, I offer a range of... services. What do you need exactly?" Clearing his throat again, Mark walked towards Lilly, offering his right hand for a formal greeting, realised he was a dumbass and lowered his arm slowly, switching to his left hand.

"I'm Mark, by the way."

Lilly accepted his gesture, delicately grasping Mark's hand with her paw. The fur; despite its dishevelled appearance, was warm and soft to the touch. The black pads squishy and smooth. Friendliness twinkled in her gaze as tail and hips rolled enthusiastically. Mark's thoughts drifted to cold winter nights, sheltered from the bite of the icy air in the warm embrace of her silky soft fur while sharing one another's body heat...

Blinking, forcing himself to return from his impure, meandering thoughts, Mark ruefully released her paw. His face flushed as he waited for her response, feeling slightly awkward. Mark could only imagine the sexual tension between them. In that he felt tense, and she felt horny.

"I need help with this silly!" Lilly gestured to her limp arm before placing her paw on his chest. Mark's heart skipped then thundered into a higher gear at the unexpectedly friendly gesture.

"I really need a good bath and groom. I hear you just the man to sort out a dirty mutt!" Lilly's welcoming smile slid into an eager, lewd grin.

Referring to herself in such a crass manner threw Mark off balance. An uncomfortable silence descended, stretching out as Mark's face basked in the glow of another uncontrolled blush, cheeks in full bloom at the thought of helping her bathe. He'd started to wonder if some prick was recording this to make an arse out of him.

Mind reeling, overheating and overstimulated like Windows 95 trying to load a simple word program. Mark tried to salvage what little he could of his professional pride with a quick Ctrl, Alt, Del.

"Maybe not the most flattering terminology. How about a..." Mark frantically tried to jumble together the limited knowledge of Spa terminology he knew.

"Monster Care and Pamper Package?". He knew he should feel embarrassed at his bastardisation of the English language, but he was secretly pleased with himself.

Lilly grinned with a knowing glint in her eye. Mark believed she would've clapped her paws excitedly if able.

"Oh, like a Spa! I would love a facial!" Lilly chirped happily, her tail becoming more animated in her sudden burst of excitement.

Blue screen. An ancient, primal instinct from the analogue days crept out from the depths of Mark's mind and seized its opportunity; waving a club-like stick wildly and capering about, whooping in the sheer delight of freedom.

Oh, gods! Why, why, why? Surely she knew what she just implied? Or was he just being particularly lewd in the torrent of her naivety?

Aaargh! This was stupid! She's just a client. An attractive client no less, with a simplicity that may or may not be an act. He wasn't sure what he wanted to be true.

"That's a unique service that needs a prior arrangement. Over dinner is preferable." Mark no longer cared, he was playing for keeps or going down in a blaze of glory. Lilly paused before a coy smirk slowly crept across her face, tail twitching mid-swing. Once again, she seized an opportunity to pour considerable discomfort onto Mark's already fragile grip on the situation.

"Dinner!? You mean like meat? Like a tasty bone?"

That was it! Mark had officially checked out. If it had been an Anime, his nose would have burst like a torn jugular sending him into severe haemorrhagic shock. The sheer deluge of innocent innuendo had caused the small crack in his mental defences to shatter, and the viscous remains of his brain slowly dribbled out. Autopilot had engaged in a futile attempt to preserve the few lumps of cognitive thought that remained.

"Ugh, right. Water. Typically necessary for bathing." He started to turn from the flirtatious, grinning Kobold but paused.

"You didn't happen to bring along any shampoo, did you?"

Lilly shook her head, pointing to a jute bag sitting in the door frame which contained a few neatly folded clothes.

"Well, there's plenty of products to choose from on those shelves." Mark nodded towards the back wall where an array of bottles and tubes were stacked.

Mark didn't believe Lilly could become more animated. Happily, he was proven wrong as Lilly's eyes lit up, tail and ears twitching in delight at the sheer choice that confronted her before she bounded over excitedly with a soft giggle.

With Lilly displaying the attention span of an unfledged Harpy, this left Mark feeling a bit deflated. Yes, it was cute, but being outclassed by brightly coloured plastic receptacles dulled his warm fuzzy glow. Though the brief interlude gave his brain some much-needed respite. Mark closed the door to the reception and made his way to the small tiled pool that sat in the corner of the room. It had seemed an extravagance at first, getting what equated to a small Jacuzzi installed, but had proved its worth the first time he was handed a St Bernard. Cujo, the hulking yet gentle beast.

Such an original name for that breed. Mark smiled, reminiscing over the immature fun he had covering its muzzle in suds and the utter chaos when Cujo broke free and indiscriminately shook water across the entire salon. Seriously, he was like a furry bar of soap! That had been an experience he wasn't likely to forget. Just a shame it was such an arse to clean afterwards.

Turning on the taps, water flowed into the bath with a sharp slap as it hit the hard white tiles. Steam started to rise and billow while droplets of water splashed against Mark's bare arms. He watched Lilly as she ran her paw in front of the rows of bottles, humming to herself in an overly cheerful tone. It seemed as if she was always in motion as Lilly's tail caused the rest of her body to sway in its eager gyrations. She had already set aside a few bottles of shampoo and held another in her paw as she read the description intently. Her tail swished erratically as she poured over the promises on the back.

Mark found Lilly's glee at such a mundane pleasure delightful. An endearing quality like watching a puppy go off its nut in freshly fallen snow. In fact, he could just imagine her giddy wonder and whimsy when it snowed. He was also struck by the feeling that he'd like to see that.

"Would I actually consider dating her? I usually go for a bit more aggression. She's a fittie, has a cracking arse on her!" Shit! Mumbling to himself again. He really needed to rein that in. It already got him a few odd looks when he was out shopping. At least he didn't answer on his client's behalf using somewhat condescending tones like some groomers he had met. That had always worried him. A glimpse of a possible future he hoped to avoid.

Time to wade into this quandary of shampoo selection.

"You'll find they all promise a thick glossy coat with plenty of bounce and the entrancing scent of lavender." Mark had plastered on his friendliest if somewhat patronising smile while trying to emulate any number of cheesy, wooden adverts that were filled with sizzling terminological inexactitudes. And you couldn't sell a dubious sausage without plenty of sizzle!

Turning towards him with the bottle held up to her face while sporting a welcoming grin, she was the perfect model for dog shampoo on one of those annoyingly persistent shopping channels. The ones you know sell nothing you want but find yourself watching for about fifteen minutes until they start repeating themselves.

"I like lavender, it reminds me of my mother's garden." Lilly's musical voice was still affable, there seemed no end to her energy. Mark sighed to himself.

This was getting frustrating. Mark really couldn't sort himself out. It felt as if he was struck dumb when trying to answer her, his tongue like leather when he tried to speak. Similar to being a teenager on his first date again. The clumsy handling of the situation, unsure exactly how to approach any topic that strayed too close to his own emotions.

Well, it was time to bite the proverbial bullet.

"Do you mind if I..?" Mark let the sentence trail off as he gestured towards the hair that cascaded down her back.

"Sure, dive in!" Lilly practically threw herself into his arms as she stepped back, tilting her head, chin up, eyes closed.

Starting at the base of her ears, Mark ran his fingers through her luxuriously soft hair. Light and smooth as finely spun silk. Periodically, he would pause to rub a few strands between his thumb and forefinger before continuing downwards. It didn't actually help him come to any conclusion, but it made him feel a little more professional. Almost like those pretentious twats that sniffed wine and went on about 'Pebbles in the Rain' and other bollocks. Damn, she had beautiful hair. Mark knew people that'd kill for this.

Lilly's breathing had become shallow, more like panting actually, causing Mark to flush once more. He was beginning to feel like a warning light that blinked on and off. Did he continue downwards towards her backside or stop there? Well, it's not as if she was squirming under his touch, her ears were still perky, though her eyes were closed. In fact, he had an urge to tickle the tufts of fur that nestled around her ears, to call her a good girl. No, that would undoubtedly be sexual harassment. Or would it? Still, no!

With a sly smile, Mark continued downwards, tangling her hair between his fingers as he went. God, he could do this all day. It even had a slight floral scent to it. No doubt her own shampoo. Finally, he relented as his fingers neared her backside and grudgingly released the divinity from his grasp.

Crap, Mark was meant to help figure out what product would work best. Lilly's lovely smooth hair he could pet and caress all day, coupled with a mind easily distracted with anything feminine lured him away from his weak excuse to fondle her hair. Well, it was similar to a Bearded Collie. Mark made a leap of faith, assuming her fur would be likewise, though he decided not to investigate at the moment. He already felt a chubby coming on. It wouldn't do trying to act natural while pitching a tent. Mark doubted he'd get away with tucking it up into his waistband like he used to back in school. Why was it so embarrassingly easy for him to get aroused?