Blogging from A to Z: Q is for Quiet

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“I don’t have a puppy,” Gia purred the words through a pair of ruby lips.

Evelyn clenched her jaw, reminding herself of the need for patience. She was a good person and she was trying hard not to resent her new neighbor. It had been difficult, to say the least, even before all the nighttime noise had started. The woman had skyscrapers for legs, perfect breasts and an amazing wardrobe: the definitive look of a socialite who happily ate other women for breakfast.

“Gia.” Evelyn pushed a strand of runaway copper hair hair behind one ear. She propped a hand on her denim-clad hip and frowned at the elegant brunette. “I’m sorry to call you out on this, but you’re lying. I know you’re keeping a dog in your apartment at night. And you know the superintendent doesn’t allow it.

“Tell me, dear.” Gia licked her lips and leaned into the door jamb, staring back at the other woman thoughtfully. “What makes you think I have a dog?”

Evelyn sighed. “I can hear you through the wall.”

“Go on.”

“All the whimpering.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And the commands.”

“Yes … such as?”

“Bad girl. Sit. Stay.”

“So, let me ask you again, dear … what makes you think I have a dog?”

“I …” Evelyn’s eyes widened into saucers, her cheeks flushing red. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing; I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Gia smiled, cupping Evelyn’s chin. “It doesn’t work that way, dear. If you’re truly sorry, you’ll come over tonight and you will show me.”

“Gia…” Evelyn’s voice held a hint of uncertainty.

“You’ll sleep well when I’m done; I promise—and, if you’re very good, I might let you stay for breakfast.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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