Slipping into her four-inch Miss Sixty’s, Andrea didn’t notice that next to them the bathroom’s second entrance had a big square doggy door at the bottom with a well-disguised flap that swung open. If she had noticed it she would have assumed it was for one of J.J.’s unseen dogs. After all, from what she had witnessed traumatically out on the veranda, she knew he was a pet-lover, or at least some sort of a “pet freak.” Yet any normal guess would only have been half close, because this door was for a pet, all right, a freak pet.

“Well aren’t you the lonely dude,” Andrea said with a laugh.

John looked up transfixed. Her alluring figure glistened in the moonlight that streamed through their garden window.

“Yeah!” he huffed in mock irritation. “How long does a dude have to wait?”

Abruptly he pulled Andrea down and when she landed on him her sudden softness sent an electric rush through his entire body. He didn’t remember it then but once, in the eighth grade, he had gone to the public library in hopes of reading up on this same feeling that surged through his thirteen-year-old torso whenever he looked at a Playboy or saw a hot looking chick in a bikini. There, back in the Anthropology section, he found more than he expected in the book that changed his life. It was a book that opened his eyes to so much more than anything he learned in school. It had wisdom about real life, about needs people have, about why we are just sophisticated monkeys looking to eat, sleep, stay warm and get laid on a regular basis. It was called The Naked Ape and it said that from birth on, we are just one full-bodied, knuckle-dragging T.J,Maxx or True Religion-covered erogenous zone. It explained how it was our joy and our fate that when we got close to other erogenous zones we liked, our smooth, mostly hairless forms were like freight trains that screamed silent whistles and flashed scarlet appendages to eager passengers to jump on board and stoke our burning furnaces or maybe even our caboose.