Page 7 of Tropical Heat

Was living with him turning me gay? I know it doesn't work that way and felt ridiculous for even thinking it. I served with multiple gay and bisexual men in Afghanistan and never thought of them as anything other than buddies. Sure, I loved them, but not in that way. Not once had I imagined any of them with their muscular arms wrapped around my waist. Holding me close. Kissing me with their strong lips.

It was a line of thought that would only lead to more confusion. I chased it from my mind and picked up the pace. When I reached the end of the island, I was breathing hard. Giving a wave to the moon, I turned and started back the way I had come. After going only a few yards, I realized I was being followed and turned around.

The tan and white dog was no more than a foot tall. His ears flopped as he tilted his head to the left and stared up at me with big, round, dark eyes. Thinking he’d escaped his yard, I looked up and down the street, sure that his owner must be out looking for him, but there was no one in sight. “Hey boy. Do you live around here?”

By way of response, his bushy tail wagged, and he began to bark. There was no mistaking that yap. It was the same dog I heard earlier. If he lived in the neighborhood, surely his owner would have heard him by now. His bark was loud and unrelenting, but his bushy tail continued to wag, so I figured he was harmless.

When he raised up on his hind legs and danced around, begging to be picked up, I obliged. Then checked under his matted fur for a collar and some form of identification.

“Oh my God, you smell horrible.” The unmistakable odor of rotten eggs told me he had been rolling in sargassum. I had a beagle named Ash when I was a boy that did the same thing. Dang dog would find the stinkiest scents imaginable and roll around in them. Mom wouldn’t let him back in the house until I gave him a bath.

I tried not to gag and checked again for identification. But if he once had a collar, it was gone now. My eyes watered and I put him back down on the ground, knowing I would need a shower when I got home.

Although he smelled incredibly unpleasant, the way he stared up at me with those big dark eyes convinced me I couldn’t just leave him there without attempting to find the owner. But it was close to midnight, and knocking on doors that late would be a bad idea.

I took out my phone and snapped a couple pics of the dog and uploaded them to the Turtle Key lost and found page on Facebook. That's when I saw I had a missed text from a 412 number I did not recognize. Assuming it was another scam message, I was about to hit delete without opening it, when I remembered I had given my number to Morgan earlier in the evening.

I silently read the message twice and once out loud. “‘I can’t wait to see everything you have to show me. With a winky face emoji at the end. It sounds like she’s flirting. Right Stinky?” He looked up at me, cocked his head, and appeared to shrug his shoulders.

When I started moving again, Stinky trotted alongside, taking four steps to my every one. I slowed to a brisk walk. “I'm not the smoothest guy when it comes to romance, but the message sure sounded like an innuendo to me. The problem is, she sent it right after I gave her my number. Four hours ago.”

Stinky looked up at me as if waiting for further explanation. “If I answer with something witty or sexy, she might assume it’s taken me this long to come up with a response. But if I do nothing, she’s going to think I’m not interested. What should I do?

I really liked Morgan and didn't want to blow it. After giving it more thought, I decided honesty was the best policy and sent her a text message explaining that I had not seen her message until just now and was also looking forward to our date. I was fairly sure at this point she considered it a date.

Morgan would be at work by now, so I did not expect to hear back from her right away. When we reached the house, the dog followed me up the steps and onto the porch. His pink tongue was out, and he was panting. I checked that the gate had latched behind me and went inside to get us both something to drink.

When I came out the side door, off the kitchen, Stinky was there waiting. I put a cereal bowl down and filled it with a bottle of Aquafina. He eagerly lapped up the water. Once he had his fill, he walked to the railing, sniffed, and lifted his leg. When he finished urinating, he jumped up onto Dante’s favorite deck chair and immediately fell asleep.

I considered knocking on Dante’s door and making him aware of our overnight guest, but the thought of his bare torso, only partially covered by a sheet, made me decide to leave a note instead. But this did not stop the image which had already formed in my mind from becoming even more clear. Tousled hair, smoldering eyes blinking away the sleepiness, tongue moving over his lips to moisten them before speaking. Then pulling back the sheet and inviting me into his bed.

Yep, leaving a note was a much better idea. I took a three-month-old flyer from the refrigerator and turned it over.

There is a dog on the deck. Answers to the name Stinky. When you get a whiff, you will understand why.

He followed me home last night. If no one claims him by tomorrow, I will take him to the shelter so they can scan him for a chip and notify the owner.

I put it on top of the coffeemaker, where he would be sure to see it. Then went upstairs to my bedroom. By the time I finished showering, a quick check of my phone revealed no one had responded to my Facebook post yet, nor had Morgan texted me back.

It was a restless night, and I woke several times with a painful erection, courtesy of a series of escalating dreams involving Morgan and Dante. The dreams were not exactly X-rated, but nor were they suitable viewing by anyone under the age of eighteen. I am ashamed to admit that after waking a third time; I rubbed one off and slept through the rest of the night.

The next morning, I saw Dante had left a response to my note.

Cute dog. We should keep him.

BTW-I gave him a bath, so you need to come up with a new name.

D

He gave him a bath? We should keep him? Dante never ceased to surprise me.

Six

Morgan

Still a newbie and enthusiastic about my job, I arrived at work a half an hour early. Once I had exchanged my street clothes for scrubs, I took one more look at my phone before putting it in my locker. There was still no response from Zak.

If he hadn’t texted back by now, he probably wasn’t going to, I thought. It would not be the first time I had turned off a man with my directness. But I believed it best to lay your cards on the table. That way, everyone knew what to expect. And if Zak was interested in more than a sexual relationship, it was better I found out before things got messy. Like they had with Carl.

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