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Chapter One

Catch a sneaky, peaky puppy dog in action

So, my physician was right, the goodly doctor had diagnosed that I had a severe case of the swelling skin syndrome, and then he prescribed for me, or he at least suggested some random remedies which included me jumping off of, or into the deep end of something, what it was I can’t quite remember. I think it was into the deep end of some ice cold water or something like that. I particularly liked the “deep” part of the whole thing though, if nothing else. I think I'm beginning to like my mother's side of the family just a little too much for my own good.


Monday, August 6th, 2012. Downtown Montreal Quebec. Still got me twenty minutes to go before I get done with this job and be moving on to the next. She needs to get her welding done, and I? I have been putting off the oil change for way too long too, even a rickety old car needs its regular oil change right?

So there I was.

Still reeling from the loss of my marriage to Aylene, and flogging myself black and blue for having gone so badly off track in that arena. Life had suddenly begun to shine a light of hope in my direction again. My business was taking off, and I was, like, doing okay at the self-improvement thing one might say. But old habits die hard, so here am I, back down the road which leads right back to the lifestyle of my teenage past. I was back to my old ways, back to my old puppy dog ways, messing around with a girl I didn't know that well, didn't really like, and sure as hell, didn't want. But she did have something that I really wanted back then, and badly so.

On the way there, I stopped at the Caribbean Kitchen restaurant to grab myself a bite to eat, got to get her something special too, I knew she likes Rotti, so I picked up two, one for her, the other for me, I also grabbed two drinks, a soft one and a hard one. The soft was for her, the hard one for me, one can't have Rotti without something refreshing and cool to go down with it, can he? Something to wash it down. I needed something long and strong. Actually, she needed the something long, that’s why I was going there, I needed the strong one, the drink that is, it was a rather hard day at work that particular day but whenever she calls, I run to her. She had said that she was bored, which is always a code word for me to get there and get there fast. I've got the excitement which you need, I'd said in response, and I am coming to you babe, with wings on my feet. She, (Mira)' was at work, if one can call that sort of thing work, she was babysitting the kid, right at that moment when she called me, she was damn near asleep too, lying there on the couch. The baby was sleeping alright, and she, she was lying there alongside the baby half asleep herself, some kind of work it is. She did wake up well enough to open up the door and let me in when I got there, was mighty happy to have the Rotti and drink too, all of the red-eyed sleepy-look, quickly dissipated into a wide awake and alert Ms. Mira, name-calling me: sweetheart, darling baby. "My" sweetheart, my darling baby. Even if it's only in her delusional, demented way of thinking. If in the process of doing all that, it gets me what I want? I can be anything.

Meanwhile, I was quick in getting in and out of the shower, I had was to go and freshen myself up after the hard day at work, before moving on to the next stage. She was slightly hunched over the wash basin in the bathroom as I stepped out of the shower, she was brushing her teeth, I walked up behind her and kissed her neck, her plaited dirty brown hair was tied up in a ponytail there, of course, it was her hair. She bought it so it was hers right? My ready willing hand reached down and around the waist, sliding smoothly over her silky smooth chocolate brown skin and then back up to cup the plumb, warm begging mammary bulbs, caressing them with even purposeful strokes.

Man, what a lushus load, if I love them? Course I do.

The thumb and forefinger meanwhile were concentrating on the nippled spouts. The bathrobe was very cooperative too, it slid off of her shoulder and tumbled to the floor at her feet. As she turned around and cupped my face in her hands, and kiss me, I went to work on those lips, before she, pushing my head down where the hand was busily working moments before, now the right hand is gripping hard at the cheeks, the other cheeks. While pulling her up and in towards the real hard facts of the matter. Umm, she grunted, as she pulled slightly away, let's go into my room she said...

Your room? Sure. This may be the place where you crash and hang out whenever you are on the job, but this is not your room. This is the house and home of your mistress, your employer, your boss. So neither you nor I should be in this, or any other room here in this house for that matter, until that day when we actually bought and own the damn crib. Of course, I didn't say any of that to her, not then, not ever. This was just a little best-buddies exchange between Bubbles and me.

There was too much urgency in the task at hand for me to be thinking of anything beyond the obvious,

"Come on," I said, "let's not spoil this, the bathrobe on the bathroom floor will suffice."

She took a hold of one of the many strong limbs hanging off of this hunk of a strong tree, and drag me towards the bedroom, both of us butt-naked and heated up to fever pitch, this waggy-tailed puppy dog, willingly followed, heck, you are the boss here, I mused within, and will always be in said sorts of situations.


The baby cried and gyrate her hands and feet, as she rolled over and sat up, all of that moaning, groaning, bumping and grinding must have woke her up prematurely, and now she's the one who is needing all of the attention, she most certainly needed it more than me at this point, and sweet and kindly Ms. Mira, Is not one who is known to be withholding needed pleasures from anyone, not from me, and certainly not from a crying baby.

She picked the baby up and brought her right there into the bed with us, after filling out the tiny hands with the coveted prize, the bottle of warmed-up mother's breast milk. The kid seemed much more interested in figuring me out though, than in the task of nourishing herself with the bottled meal in her mouth, she just kept on twisting and turning around to stare at the stranger lying right there in the bed, the very same one which she usually crawl all over, without ever seeing such a face as this sneaky little puppy dog's anywhere around, until now. Huh, huh, I said to myself, I think that if I hang around this joint much longer, this kid might one day grow up to be calling me Papa. Hell no, I'm out of here.


Unbeknown to either of us, we were being watched, yep, our every move was being monitored and recorded by a private eye, or maybe it was a set of private eyes, as it was to be revealed later on, oh the wonders of technology. Mira had called again on the following day, "we are in trouble," she had said, "big trouble..."


"I want you to come upstairs right this minute Mira," Miss Kentise, (that's what Mira call her), Mrs. Kentise had said that she wants her upstairs right away.

Mrs. Addasa Kentise, her mistress wanted to talk to her, and it could not wait. So, she picked up the baby and hopped on up the stairs. There was no subtlety to the reveal, the screenshot was the first thing that hits her eyeballs as soon as she entered the living room, a picture-perfect portrait of the man standing there in the basement sitting room, right beside the baby there sleeping in the crib. There was no doubt as to who the person in the picture was, and further, no doubt as to what the purpose of the meeting with her mistress was either.

Mira swallowed hard, "I am in deep doo-doo," she said to herself.


Just a couple of quick questions for you Miss Mira, and just as quickly I'd like to get the truth from you, who is this person in my house, standing over my sleeping baby? And why is this person here, in-my-house? She punctuated each word. The words would not come when she tried to respond.

I, I, I don't know what to say. She stuttered. You don't know this person, who is with you in my house?

"Yes," she replied.


Yes, I know who he is...

Then who is he? Tell me.

He's my friend, a, a friend of mine, his name is Manley.

Why was he in my house? What was he doing here?

I was alone and bored, and when Sarah went to sleep, I, I, I just needed someone to talk to and...

So you invited him here?

Yes, ma'am.

That will be all for now, Mira, I'll have a lot of thinking to do before I decide my next move, now get out of my face.


Mira turned around and headed briskly back down the steps towards the basement apartment, she was shaking like a leaf against the rushing wind, and wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. What does this mean for her, is this the end of the job? She was wondering. She never did know how much, or even if she did like, or dislike the job before, but suddenly, she felt very scared, she didn't want to lose this job, at least not yet.

"One more thing Mira," Mrs. Kentise called out to her just before she closed the door at the bottom of the staircase behind her, on the way back to the basement apartment. I need the contact information for this person, your friend? I am going to have to talk to him too. "Okay ma'am," said Mira, as she finished closing the door.

Chapter Two

Love to die for.

Even though she knew that she couldn't love me, she still did want me, and I was going stone-cold out of my cotton-picking mind for wanting her too. Libby was 24, and me, I was 34 years of age.

The forces on either side of this socio-divide were unrelenting. Was this a love to die for? Maybe, but then again, maybe not.

Libby Dahoust is her name, I am Manley, Manley Jaxtan Woodhardt. I met her there at study hall, well, I saw her there for the very first time on the orientation evening, but we really only did meet and greet in a strange kind of way at the food counter, in the pizzeria across the street at Sherbrooke and McGill college not many days later. She is a straight-A medical student of Indian descent, straight shiny black hair and chocolate brown skin. And me, I'm just barely skimming my way through a course in computer programing and design. A West Indian-born dark-skinned dreadlock wanna-be at the time, my dreads was just beginning to take shape but I sure have got the physiques and the good looks to work it well. Well, so they say. I am the quintessential West Indian man. That’s what they also say.

She is very shy and reserved, or so it would seem at first sight to many, including me.

Her head is always in the books or the papers. Until I caught her eying me there that day. Or should I say, we were eying each other? I was looking at her over the pizza and coke in front of me on the table, she must have felt the burning, piercing gaze because, she looked up from the paper and flash a quick glance and a smile my way, then revert back to the paper before her on the table, the crushed-up paper plate and empty drink cannette also there on the table in front of her, suggested to me that she had already finished her meal and was using the rest of the time there studying.

Every now and then she would sneak other peaks my way, until, she was either done with the studies or she had had her fill of me. She picked up her belongings and shook her wide open Palm in a jolly and gay little wave at me on the way out, bye! She whispered. That was how it got started, think I may have ruined her studies for a brief moment there though. The only thing she seemed to be wanting to study there for a while after I walked in, was me. But...


What a difference a day can make sometimes. From mesmerizing eye deals on day one, to just hi, and not even so much as a goodbye on the next day.

On day two, she hurriedly finished off what was left of the meal which she was having and was gone before my order even came up.

I watched her as she crossed the street, mount up onto the sidewalk and continued on through the oval-shaped entry gate which leads into the park and onto the campus grounds, she never did even turn to look back. She must have had some sense talked into her last night I thought to myself, or maybe something even more sinister.


"One doesn't have time to be looking around or messing around just before sitting and passing an exam," she told me later after she had learned to confide in me.

I had asked her about the detached persona and the swift escape that afternoon. She said she had was to go sit an exam, and wasn't in the mood for a distraction.

Wow, is that what I am? a distraction?


Her father was a physician in his Asiatic homeland but had was to settle for driving a taxi cab here, in the new country of residence.

The family also owns and operate a grocery store in the Cote Des Neige area: D&D Tropical Produce. The elder Dahoust woman: Luba Dahoust and Kamal the son is the face of that business. When Kamal is not chauffeuring his sister, Libby, he can be found either in the store there or he would be driving the delivery truck, a cube-shaped white Isuzu truck.


They were nine and ten, her brother and her when he (the father), threaten to kill him (the brother) because, he caught him trying to make out with his sister, (her, Libby) in the basement sofa, he nearly killed the poor boy with licks, and then warned him that: "if I ever get wind of you even so much as getting close to her again, I swear to God (or Allah,) I'll kill you." Then the second round of licks came and did not stop until Kamal lay sprawled out on the floor, seemingly lifeless.

Panicking, their mother, Luba, sprang into action and picked him up, then went to work nursing him: back to life, back to health, and now? back to reality.

Libby, all the while, while that, (the murdering of his brother by his own dear father) was happening, she was slumped in a corner in a fetal position, barely daring even so much as to breathe.


"We were just experimenting she told me, we were nine and ten," "he was ten, I was nine." "And no," she said when I had asked her further, "dad didn't punish me for it, at least not in terms of the flagging, he laid all of the blame on Kamal, still isn't quite sure why but... For the next four to five years we were hardly ever seen in the same room together, or in any close proximity to each other.”

I’d took the risk and probed even further. I inquired of her, if she thought that she had any role to play in what had happened. At the time not so much, she said, but as the years went by, I became somewhat more and more self-conscious and started to wonder if I might have led him on. I was old enough to have known better, she acknowledged.

She did admit to me that it felt really good though and that she must have wanted it, she could have stopped it she said, but she didn't. "Did you do it?" I further asked, "I mean, how far did you managed to get into it?"

"Why am I sitting here pouring out my soul to you though?" She blurted out, "I don't even know you and..."

She pushed back the chair and got up, took up her bag and paper folder and walked out, without looking back.

That was the end of that conversation, for the time being at least.

She and her brother seemed to be very tight nowadays though, for want of a better term. He is the one who dropped her off at and picked her up from school almost every day. One of the rare exceptions to that routine was to become my greatest ally.

Chapter Three

Seeing things in black and white

It would eventually become necessary for me to come up with a plan to blackmail Mrs. Kentise into a surrender, in the selfsame manner as she had done it to me. That was after I got myself hooked on Libby, some of her very own tools of-the-trade would come in very handy in bringing that about too, such as the camera, the sound recorder, and the voice recording app on the phone. That was long after it became clear to me that: the only thing she was going to be doing with the evidence which she had on me being in her house, screwing around with her helper, was to use it to try and blackmail me into doing the exact same thing to her, and for her, and after my deciding that making this: her little shenanigans, and sexual rendezvous public knowledge, and shaming her would yield far greater results in getting her to quit than any legal pursuit would. I was able to wiggle out and break myself free from her dragnet.


She started soliciting action from me mere days after she first contacted me, and that was the following day after she had confronted Mira on the issue. Gosh, she smelled of breast milk for crying out loud, I thought we were bathing in the stuff.

A pretty little thing she was, and still is. I can easily see how she became Mrs. Kentise, so young and all, if pretty looks were everything, then the man who married her: Bob Kentise, would surely have gotten everything that the world has to offer the day he married her. But other than that, she is a dumbass nutcase and a freak.

To be fair to her though, I can't help but think that she has got some real potential here because, for her to put together a scheme like that after finding out about her helper and me, and then use it to get some action in her own partly retired sex life after her husband had done divorce her and remarry, was borderline genius. I do believe someone has sold her up short, somewhere along the way, her parents probably.

She had called me up the following evening after Mira gave her my contact information. Said it was important that I come see her and get some things straightened out before she goes to see her lawyer. Mira had already alerted me to what was up, so I was not the least bit surprised.

I hopped into my car and trek on over at the time appointed. Never did make much of the fact that Mira was not on the job there at the time. Mere coincidence? Or was it the result of careful planning? Anyway, I got there to find her home with her two children, the elder boy was home from school, and...

Just like Mira had relayed it to me how it happened when she was called upstairs to meet with the mistress. It was basically the same settings. The laptop was there on the kitchen table, active and ready, the screen though, unlike in her rendition of the story, the screen wasn't facing the front where I could see it. I was bending my neck somewhat to try and sneak a peek when she wasn't looking my way but, I still couldn't see anything. So, she said, as it turned out, this is not the first time that you have been in this house, is it?

As a matter of fact ma'am, it isn't. And am awfully sorry for my indiscretions and trespassing ma'am. So you are sorry? So you are sorry now? What makes you so sorry all of a sudden, because you now find that you are facing some charges like trespassing on private property, maybe? Breaking and entering and, and…

Like I said ma'am, I really am sorry, I meant no harm or disrespect. It was just a situation where...

A situation eh, that's what it was? a situation? So what can you say to me to make me not call the police right this minute and have you arrested? I, I really don't know, I don't have anything to say than to ask for your pardon ma'am. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for this, I'm not a bad person, or some evil person who has set out to do you, or anybody else harm, I just made a stupid mistake.

A miscalculation.

A mistake eh, that's what it is? a mistake? Tell you what, let me think about it for a while, maybe run it by my lawyer and see what he thinks about the whole thing. Then we will decide where we go from here.

I know I'm pushing my luck here ma’am but, could you leave the lawyer part out of it for me... Please.

No, you don't get to tell me what to, or not to do here Mister, I do the telling around here. You should be thanking your lucky stars right now as it is, that you have found me in a good mood or you would be negotiating with the cops by now. By then the baby could be heard whining, and the boy, her brother, he was mama, mama-calling from the playroom next door. Her full attention was sorely needed elsewhere. You may go now mister, but expect to hear from me again soon. Thank you, ma'am, and have a good evening. Go, go.

So, I did just that, I left.


Friday evening, almost exactly one week after that meeting with Mrs. Kentise, as I signed off of work at about five thirty, the phone rang, it was the madam for sure. I have a proposal for you Mr. Manley, she said, you need to get here as soon as possible. I point my nose in that direction, one can't afford to irritate any further, this person on whom so much of one’s future and freedom may depend, can he?

She opened up the door to me, so I walked in.

Have a seat, she said, as she turned the corner and went out of sight. I did not sit down, I scanned the room, just because. Wasn't looking for anything in particular, I was uncomfortable.

She came walking back into the living room, sit, sit, sit down, she said emphatically but rather calm and cool. I sat down in the very first chair that my hand could reach there at the table.

She pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat herself down in front of me. Look she said, I've been thinking about a lot of things, and I have come to the conclusion that, you are who you say you are, just someone who had made a stupid mistake and is awfully sorry for it. So... She paused, pushed back the chair and got up, I'm going to cut you some slack here she said over her shoulder as she again turned the corner and went back in the direction of the room where she had gone before. Again, I snuck another peak around, leaning towards the door which was slightly ajar, and which leads to the children's playroom. It had come to the attention that I haven't seen or heard anything of the children since I arrived there. Mrs. Kentise came back carrying the laptop, or maybe it was another laptop in her hands, I can’t say for sure. She placed it on the table and hit the power button. With the right hand still on the backrest of the chair which she was about to pull out further, as she was about to sit back down, she paused in the middle of the act, leaned across the table at me: "I think today is your lucky day," she said, and then completed that act of sitting down.

After sitting back down and shaking herself comfortable, she began to manipulate the keys on the laptop, progressively slowing down the act, hmm, she squeezed out the sound of satisfied discovery, or something closely akin to it.

For several minutes she was at it, leaving me there to wonder what she was up to. She must have found what it was that she was searching for because she shot me a lingering stare, over the top of the angled up computer screen, then sat back in the chair and stared at me again.

Her eyes slowly narrowed, her lips parted as a thin grin began to birth itself out on her face. How about you give me some? She asked as the grin widened on her face. Huh! What? I reacted with puzzlement. The already wide grin she was wearing gets bigger, as she slowly turned the screen towards me and...

Whoa. There I was, looking at, me, myself, right there on the screen, in the nude, in the presence of a strange woman, one who I was not there, in that state, in the nude, to do, anything with, Yet. I slid out the chair backward from underneath the table, turned slightly around to heave myself out of the chair. I think it's time for me to go, I said.

No, no, please, she said, I am being genuinely straight-forward with you here, I don't want you to leave, not this time. Forget all that, that thing about the lawyer and all the rest, she said this while pointing at the laptop. I really want to do this, you and me.

You really are sure about this? I asked. Couldn't be more sure, she replied, as her hands reach up and started to undo the buttons on the skimpy little sleeveless top which she was wearing. She came walking over to where I was sitting as she finished the undoing of the buttons, sat herself down on my knees. Look I said, I have already done some things that I am regretting, and is the very reason why I am here being quizzed and threatened by you, am I going to be regretting this too, coming here to talk to you?

No, that was not the reason why I called you here today, this is.

I can't do this, I protested, at least not with the threats of lawsuits hanging over my head. There are no lawsuits, there never was, yes I was angry and upset at the first when I saw the recordings, not even sure if it was at you, or at Mira. I think it was more at her for bringing you in here but, when I started going through the recordings, all I wanted was to be in her, (Mira's) place, and I just knew that I had was to give it a try, I really am sorry for the back-handed methods which I used but, you won't hold that against me, will you?

While she spoke, she was undoing the buttons on my shirt, I gazed at the firm and full round breast there just bouncing and begging, was just about to reach out and take a hold and a gluttonous bite out of em but then I recalled that she was nursing, it's probably why they were looking so damn lushus and inviting but I still would not take anything away from how beautiful the woman looked.

The upper half of me, the sensible half: my head, my heart, my mind told me to protest, not to be drawn into this dragnet, this trap. But my lower half, my over-actively sensual half wasn't cooperative, he just wanted to hop on the horse and go a-giddy-upping down the tracks, guess which half won out in the end?

Yep, you got it.

This dirty old puppy dog just hops on and went on riding along down the dead end track. This would become a regular routine over the next little while for us. Every time that the kids go off to their daddy's place, I hop on over to their place, where me… and… Mrs, Mrs. Jones, or was it Mrs. K? I mean, Mrs. Kentise, has done got this red hot chili peppers-like thing going on. Until...

Libby came into the picture and spoiled everything, or did she?

While all of this was going on with Mrs. Kentise and me, Mira and I was still having our regular rendezvous, only not at her workplace, we never did make that mistake again. So little by little the heat started to wear out of the potful of Mrs. Kentise and me, or so I wanted her to think of it, and Mira likewise was seeing less and less of me. Iis he getting tired of me she? Mira wondered. But it wasn't that at all. In a way, Mira was deluding herself into thinking that she and I were an item. I never did have much real interest in her from the start, beyond hitting the sack and burning some fat. If she was hoping and dreaming of something more than that, then I guess you could call it a bonus, everyone needs something to hold on to, a hope, a dream, in which case, I guess I'll always be her dream lover.


Libby stepped into the picture and everything changed, and no, I wasn't banging on her door, as you might be wondering. There was something different about the way how I felt about her, I had even seemed to have lost the desire for the "regular workouts" as I had grown accustomed to up until then. That's when both Mira and Mrs. Kentise started turning to pestering me: where are you, what are you up to, why have I not seen you in x amount of days? And on it went like that. Until, Mrs. Kentise got the fabulous ideas of going back to her old ways, her old redundant threatening ways.


They call me Manley the Techno man for a reason, I am the go-to guy for all things technical in electronics in general and computer in particular but somehow, it would seem as if madam Kentise did not inform herself well enough about who I was, to know that part. So when she changed from her threatening ways to start bedding down with me, I knew that that couldn't last, I didn't want it to last, and by then, I had also managed to see enough of her to know that she could be a two-edged sword, cutting both ways, I had already tasted a bit of both edges. So I started to prepare myself against that day when she would turn again from sweet to bitter.

I started to record our every encounter, conversations, phone calls, well, her phone calls not mine, since I never did call her. Ever.


Are you still fucking Mira? The voice blurted out in my ear. Wha... What... What? I asked while rubbing away at lingering sleep and trying to pry my eyes open. Are you still fucking around with that girl, Mira?

I cannot see how who I may or may not be fucking with is any of your business.

Well, you must be fucking her, or god knows who else why you don't want to fuck me, and if you are not getting it here, you must be getting it somewhere else, so who is it? Tell me, tell me.

So, you call my house at 2:30 AM to inquire as to who I am fucking why I'm not fucking you, well, looks like you are spot on in at least half of the equation here. I’m not fucking you, and that is because, I don't want to be fucking with you ever again, I never did want to at the start and I sure don't want to now, so go get a life and stop bothering me Ms. Kentise, I mean, Mrs. Addasa Kentise.

I hang up the phone and tucked my head back under my pillow.

Instantaneously the phone started ringing again. What now? I Answered.

You hang up on me madda fuckka, are you crazy? You know who you are fucking with? do you have any idea who you are fucking with?

Do you want an answer to any of those questions? I asked. Or is it that you just want to go a-rattling on, if I were you though, I would slow down and listen, because I too have got some things to say which may be beneficial for you to hear, and since you have done got me wide awake and alert now, I might as well tell you. You’ve got two choices here, what you want to do with the information I am about to divulge, is up to you.


About me

E Lloyd Kelly is an Author, poet, and blogger. Born in Jamaica West Indies, to Raglan and Alma Kelly. He now resides in Montreal Quebec where (when not writing) he drives a shuttle bus between campuses at McGill University. Other works by E Lloyd Kelly, includes; Some Shitty Vacation, Waters of Silver Springs and more.Find these on the Author’s page at Amazon.com/author/elloydkelly here: https://www.amazon.com/E.-LloydKelly/e/B01G7NYWL6/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Q. What was the hardest part of writing this book?
The hardest part was getting to fifty thousand words, I was just about done telling the story at about thirty-three thousand, or so I thought. but then...
Q. When did you decide to become a writer?
I'm a guy of many words, but whose tongue is slow and heavy, and my words tend to come out awkward and clumsy, I started writing because I always have something to say. Which always tends to get me into trouble but. The extra bonus though, in writing is that a pencil usually comes with an eraser.
Q. Where did the idea for this book come from?
From hearing it said one time too many: "All men are dogs"

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