At the age of seventeen I apprenticed to a grocer not far from Stephen's Green, where Miss Henri' used to go sir. Her manners were sublime she set my heart a-twitchin' when she invited me to a party in the kitchen

Ok, so tears aren’t always ****. Sometimes they’re real. Sometimes they’re manipulative. Hell, if you watch a toddler without them noticing you, you’ll eventually see them practicing crying. The little beasts pick up that tears mean attention, so they teach themselves to turn on the waterworks whenever they choose to. Babies aren’t just unfinished people. They lack any sort of remorse, empathy, compassion, or care for anything outside of their own needs. They don’t love their mother. They recognize her as their buffet. They have no loyalty and will respond with affection to anyone who attends their selfish whims.

Babies aren’t just tiny people. They’re not people until they’re taught to be. Dogs have more humanity than newborns.

But I’m getting off topic. So, speaking of dogs…

“Bad girl! Bad Red!” The statuesque beauty looked like she was ready to rub her own nose in whatever she’d messed up and send herself to the kennel.

So of course I hugged her.

Her demeanor immediately changed, as she went from scolding herself to making little content whimpers while she snuggled into my embrace. I was, for the second time in a seventy-two hour period, comforting a crying beautiful woman. So, I fell back on the old standard sympathetic noises and stroking of her silky red hair (pelt?).

That last part must have been what set her off, because her leg started twitching. That lead to her snuggling becoming more… I dunno, aggressive? At least this time I was sort of ready when she licked me.

The dream was still pretty fresh in my mind, and that erection was starting to feel a little less awkward as she went from licking my neck to kissing it. “I’m sorry Mr. Donne. I can’t help it. You taste almost as good as you smell. I’m going crazy!”

Dogs, domesticated dogs, are descended from particularly intelligent wolves who decided to tie themselves to humans, probably for warmth from that newfangled fire thing that Ook and Ugg had figured out how to make. Eventually through centuries of breeding and such, you end up with an animal that’s more human than wolf.

“Sit down, Ms. Hood.” She immediately did so, looking up at me with wide eyes. What was that look in them? Confusion, yes, but also desire and… reverence?

A werewolf is a human that can turn into a wolf. Or a wolf that can turn into a human. A wolf that’s part human or a human that’s part wolf.

Just like a dog.

“What is going on with you, Ms. Hood? Speak!”

Yep. I went there.

“You… you act with such authority… like you’re talking to a part of my soul! I just want to… I just have to do what you say… Sir.”

Something moved me. I’m not an aggressive man. I’m not the kind of guy who goes all caveman on a woman. I don’t ever feel the need to dominate a partner sexually.

Which is why it came as a shock to me that I walked over to where she sat in the chair, grabbed a handful of her hair, and growled out, “lay down.”

She obeyed without question.

“Good girl.” I started to undo my belt.

(Title: “Captain Kelly’s Kitchen” by Dropkick Murphys)