Pawford Personalities, Ch 2: Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hoss
Pawford Personalities Ch 2: Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hoss
Arizona's had always been one of Hoss' favorite bars or, at least, ever since it had opened. Despite Arizona-Sunrise being a non-native, his place didn't seem to suffer at all for it and, as far as anyone was concerned, was the primary hang-out for any Dogs looking to blow off some steam, wet their whistle, enjoy the night, and have a good time. Hoss was definitely one of those dogs, and he certainly preferred Arizona's over any other option.
It was a Monday night, which meant there wasn't any problem with staying late because Hoss had Tuesdays and Wednesdays off at the garage. As the place slowly emptied of the usual midnight patrons the Labrador changed his hang-out style from casual banter and laughs to a few games of pool. Three of them he played by himself, and the fourth he joined two other Dogs: Jack-in-the-Pulpit and his girlfriend Missed-the-Spring.
Jack and Missy were more of a distraction during the game than part of it since they had their paws on one another more often than the pool sticks. Hoss wasn't seeing anyone, but he wasn't exactly jealous of Jack... after all, he'd already tapped that keg. Missy had been a good time and, as far as the Labrador knew, she thought the same thing about him... there certainly hadn't been any hard feelings when they each went their separate way. It was his usual story: quick fling-- sometimes a repeat performance, and then off to the next one.
Hoss had experienced a good number of flings, in fact. He prided himself on 'knowing' most of the bitches in town and, despite the fact that he wasn't the kind of Dog to settle down, he even managed to remain on good terms with them.... well... a lot of them, anyway. The Labrador slid through his teens and early twenties with a good amount of fun and very few consequences... but those two consequences, one five years old and the other three years old were what ruined his "ending it on good terms" streak.
Neither of his pups lived in Pawford anymore; the mothers in each case had chosen other towns for very different reasons, and only the five year old was anywhere close enough to visit. Although Hoss never really considered himself fatherhood material, mother number one encouraged visits (despite hating Hoss' guts, she thought her son should have SOMETHING resembling a father figure), and his little boy always got a kick out of his dad. Mother number two... well... she went to Texas, and promised to do unpleasant things to Hoss if he even so much as tried to call... but she sure didn't mind that the child support kept flowing.
Regardless, Hoss wasn't bitter about it-- she got the hard job of raising the pup alone, and all he had to do was sacrifice part of his paycheck. True, it didn't feel quite right being kept out of his little one's life, but he was too easy going to mess with the arrangement; besides, he reasoned, it seemed to suit everyone just fine. Although the Dog should have wiped the floor with the two 'love birds' at pool, his mind ended up thinking through all the twists and turns his life had taken... so he only won by a little.
By that time it was late enough (and the two other Dogs were more than horny enough), that they declined another game and excused themselves. Hoss was content to call it quits as well; it was only about ten minutes til 2 and Arizona was close enough to closing that it didn't make much sense to hang around, "Have a gnight, Matty!" he called to the bartending blue-heeler.
"Eats-Like-A-Horse!" she shouted after him, "You better not be plannin' on drivin' yourself home, or so help me god, I'll kill you if you don't kill yerself!"
The Labrador waved away her objection as he grinned, "Ah, don't go poppin' a blood vessel, darlin'. I'll come pick my truck up in the mornin'." his tail wagged as he made his way toward the door, "Not like it's a long walk home anyway." He also waved to the owner as he passed by, "Night, 'zona.
Arizona-Sunrise, the Carolina Dog gave him a pat on the shoulder as he exited the bar, "Night, Hoss."
Although Hoss's farewell to Matty was one he'd heard other Dogs use on more than one occasion, HIS home actually WAS close by: across the street and up one lot. It wasn't as up-to-date as a lot of the more modern houses... and it didn't have as much storage space as the ones in the manufactured home parks across the way... and it CERTAINLY wasn't as spacious as the numerous houses around town that didn't have wheels, Hoss' trailer was his... and that, as far as the Labrador was concerned, was probably the most important thing about it.
Hoss always wore his trailer key on a leather strap around his neck, not just because he hated the jingling keys in his pockets, but usually because he usually ended up having too many work-related parts stuck in them. The Dog was just drunk enough to realize that he wasn't handling his homemade lanyard as well as he could have, and it took nearly a minute for him to get the key into the door. "Heh..." he chuckled lightly, "like a monkey tryin to fuck a football." Hoss was not above making fun of himself.
The Labrador pulled off the leather strap from around his neck and set it on the counter next to the door. He took one step to the small ice box and pulled out beer. Sure, he just got finished drinking the night away, but he didn't consider that a reason to stop just yet. Taking two more steps he settled down into the arm chair situated in front of the small tv set and searched around for the remote. A good thirty seconds of searching and half a beer later, Hoss finally located it, and turned on the TV.
It wasn't that Hoss was really a fan of television, in fact, he really only had it on because it was something to do to pass the time. Between the white noise of early morning television and the chaotic swirl of colors cast in long beams across the trailer's interior, it was more than enough to keep his busy mind from reflecting too much on how little actually happened in his life during his downtime. When he was at work or at the bar, or even out on the street, he felt in his element... but when he was alone he felt the least comfortable-- he really didn't like being his own company... and his tail slowly stopped wagging.
Two beers later and Hoss realized he'd finally had his fill of alcohol for the night; his mind had slowed just enough that it was no longer racing with everything that wasn't going right with his life. He was able to sit back and simply bask in the blurry haze that was drunken warmth. At some point, he even managed to fall asleep.
He awoke to the sound of his trailer's only sliding window opening. Peeking through one blurry eye, the Dog could tell it was still dark out. Hoss' television was still on and blaring some pre-dawn laundry detergent infomercial, providing the only light in the place, but it was more than enough for him to see the black clad, skinny human climbing in. The Labrador opened the other eye so he could look at his guest, "Door wasn't locked, Sosh."
The human finally pulled himself all the way in then fell onto the floor, laughing, "You were awake the WHOLE time, Elah?" While everyone else called the Labrador 'Hoss', Sasha was the only person the Dog knew who referred to him as an abbreviation of his full name. Hoss hated it at first, but it had slowly grown on him over the years.
"Didn't think you'd be out this way til later in the week." the Dog said, holding off a yawn just long enough for him to get the words out. As one of very few humans Hoss had ever met, Sasha was the ONLY human he'd ever had a chance to really get to know.
Sasha took off his backpack and set it on the carpet next to the window, "How're things going at the garage?" Before Hoss answered, the human had a bottle in hand, and tossed it toward the Dog, "Catch!"
Hoss' reflexes had always been quick, and even being drunk was no exception; the chocolate lab snatched the container out of the air, and slowly turned it around so he could look at the label, "Bourbon."
The human took a seat on the floor next to his bag and began rummaging around in it again, "I remember you said you like anything over eighty proof."
"Yep." Hoss responded, running his thumb across the black JB label, "So what's the special occasion? This's the first time y'ever brought me a drink."
"I'm a year older, so now it wouldn't be illegal for me to buy anymore."
Hoss paused at the comment, "Wait a minute... yer only 21?"
"And three days." Sasha acknowledged, still searching in his backpack.
"So... when I first met ya in Arizona's..."
The human shrugged, "Nobody carded me."
The Dog set the bottle on the folding TV tray next to his chair, "Sosh... that was more'n four years ago."
Sasha paused in his search, "Four years and... almost three months." he finally found what he was looking for and pulled a pill bottle out from the bag's side pouch then looked up to Hoss, "Mind if I get some water?"
"G'head." Hoss replied. The human stood up and took a few steps into the trailer's 'kitchen'.
The dog's alcohol-addled mind suddenly settled on his next realization, "That means ya weren't even eighteen when--" his comment was cut short as Sasha started laughing.
"Oh come on, Elah, it's not like it was the ONLY thing you made a mistake about that night." the human said; Hoss' ears began blushing immediately. The Labrador had been drunk... very VERY drunk... and had taken Sasha back to his trailer without even knowing that the human was NOT a female. Hoss got head that night from a very eager participant, only to later find out that he'd been sucked off by a male.
"Yer name's 'Sasha', Sosh... that's a girls name, dammit."
Sasha's laugh renewed, "It was my grandfather's name, Elah... Sasha isn't a girl's name in Russia."
"Well this ain't Russia." the Labrador responded, his tail wagging slightly, though it slowed when the human downed a small handful of pills along with a swig of water, "How you doin' anyway.?"
"Eh." Sasha replied with a shrug, "Some days are better than others, but for the most part I'm a lot better than I COULD be, thank God."
The human's illness was something that always ended up coming to Hoss' mind every time he visited. AIDS wasn't something Dogs had to worry about, but Hoss still worried for Sasha. Even though the two had met under what the Labrador eternally referred to as 'questionable circumstances', he had to admit that he cared about the human as a friend and didn't want to see him ill. "Glad t'see you got some pills this time."
"Me too." Sasha, from what Hoss had learned during their time together, had been on his own since fifteen when his parents kicked him out for being gay. Just to survive, the boy had turned to prostitution at rest stops, and that was where he'd been infected. Forced to handle things for himself ever since, the teen hadn't always had the money for the medicine needed to help him control the virus.
As far as the AIDS, Hoss had learned about it during their first night together, when Sasha had asked the Dog point blank if he had sex with humans on a regular basis; Dogs couldn't be infected, but they could carry the disease and pass it to other humans for over a month after exposure. It wasn't until a few years later that the Dog had learned just what Sasha had done in his early years alone to survive.
Hoss was brought out of his reverie as the slight human took a seat on the arm rest of the Dog's chair, "So... you end up getting anything other than some beers at the bar?" It was a straight-forward question but there were many ways to answer it... Sasha, however had asked it often enough over the course of several years that the Labrador knew just what he was asking.
"Nope." the Dog responded calmly, "Not even a nibble."
"Okay then." Sasha's hand went straight to Hoss' crotch, caressing the contents beneath the Dog's pants. Years ago, after their first time together, the human had somehow convinced Hoss to consider him a back-up on lonely nights. Hoss wasn't interested in males, and wasn't particularly inclined to seek out a human partner even if it was a female, but that original mistake had revealed that Sasha gave the best blow jobs he'd ever had.
Hoss laid back in his chair, closing his eyes as his flesh was firmed up within its sheath by the skilled ministrations of his partner-of-convenience. There wasn't a time when he was with Sasha that he didn't feel at least a little guilty; he got off, and all the human got was a face full of Dog spunk... and yet, somehow Sasha seemed all the more appreciative for it. The Labrador let out a soft growl at the feel of two soft lips coaxing his member out of its home, and Hoss heard the sound of his own toes popping as they curled in response to the sensation.
It used to be that the Dog had no trouble finding company any night of the week... but that came to an end once his reputation got the better of him. Jumping from partner to partner was never done with any intent to hurt anyone, and all the bitches in town knew that he wasn't someone who was looking to settle down. He never mislead or lied or tricked or deceived... the only real fault of his lifestyle was one he realized far too late: while he was busy celebrating freedom and partying, everyone else had grown up.
When Hoss finally started to look at life in a mature manner everyone else had already passed him by. The damage, however, had finally been done. The Labrador had a certain reputation in town, and it defined who he was... it probably would forever. Everyone in Pawford liked Hoss because he was simple, straight-forward, and predictable; he was a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day and his tail could wag fast enough to churn butter. It was a good feeling being the cause of so many smiles, but that meant fitting into a role that did so little for him personally; he was a comedic sidekick, and that was one way where life mirrored the movies: comedic sidekicks never got the girl.
The hand sliding up through his belly fur made the Labrador shudder; Sasha knew every trick in the book and, while even the Dog's near-drunken stupor couldn't banish the understanding that it was a male giving him head, the pure prowess with which the human performed made it almost impossible to care. Hoss gripped the arms of his chair as his thighs twitched, stomach muscles cramping from the erotic feel of fingernails scraping through his fur. All it took was Sasha's free hand to grip his knot and the Dog came... hard.
Hoss fought back an entirely embarrassing whimper as the human licked his length clean before withdrawing.. and then proceeded to do the same with the hand that had held the Dog's knot. Unable to will his still-bobbing member back into its sheath while his knot was hard, Hoss just sat there while it ran its course, "Y'know, Sosh..." the Dog murmured, "Sometimes I'm not sure why ya bother with me..."
"Because it feels nice to be needed?"
Hoss smoothed out his belly fur and slid his shirt back down into place, "Y'ken find that anywhere... probably from someone who'd appreciate it more."
The human's smile could have looked perfect on any stripper Hoss had ever known, "You don't appreciate it?"
Still sauced, and newly tired, the Dog's response was slurred, "S'not what ah ment."
Sasha's smile became a little more genuine. "Story of your life... right?" The human moved over and slowly pulled Hoss' pants down a little further, loosening his own shorts with his other hand, "If you want to go again, I can think of another way I-"
"Stop."
Sasha complied immediately, "I know you're not into the idea of it, Elah, but if--"
"I said no." the rebuke came out a little gruffer than Hoss had planned, and the human immediately disengaged.
"Relax, Old Man." it was a casual response... almost playful... but the Dog realized that it wasn't taken as lightly as Sasha let on.
Regardless, Hoss was willing to play along for the sake of the human's pride, and he kept his response chiding, "I'm only a few years older than you."
Sasha zipped up his own shorts, "Yea... by, like, half a decade."
The Dog wasn't able to keep up the charade, "I'm sorry I'm not better for ya."
The human turned at that and appeared almost about to say something. Hoss watched the expressions shift into one far more neutral, and Sasha's mouth closed. The Dog heard his own heart beat twice before the young man spoke up, "It's alright... good thing about hanging out with a drunk... I can make a fool of myself and you won't remember anything about it when you wake up."
The Labrador saw through Sasha's easy smile and shrug just then in a moment of clarity, strangely out-of-character from his usual drunken binges. He saw a strong façade hiding a crumbling interior, and something his father had told him suddenly struck home: it's always easier to see your own flaws when you're looking at them in someone else. "Not you." the Dog spoke.
The comment caused the human to pause, "Huh?"
"Y'said I'll forget everythin'."
Sasha nodded,"Yea... you're drunk... really drunk."
"Even if ah forget everythin else 'bout tonight, ah won't forget you." Whether it was the right thing or the wrong thing for Hoss to say, he never knew... what he DID know was that Sasha broke down into tears.. The human ended up in his lap, but there wasn't anything sexual about it. He stayed there longer than it took for the Labrador's erection to subside... longer than it took for the moon to set... longer than he ever had.
They'd discussed it endlessly: Sasha was able to visit, but only when it was dark... which meant that he had to be gone by daybreak. True to his promise, the human disengaged when the first signs of the sun started to hint at the coming dawn. "I'm sorry I can't be a bitch for you, Elah," Sasha kissed him on the forehead.
Hoss, just barely hanging on to consciousness pressed his nose to the human's, "I'm sorry I can't be gay for you, Sosh."
The human smiled, his demeanor cracking just enough that his single bleat of a laugh sounded entirely too much like he was ready to cry, "You said you'll remember me... right?'
Hoss nodded groggily, "Couldn't ever get me drunk enough to forget you, Sosh."
"Then that's good enough."
There was silence between them for several seconds; Hoss didn't move from his place on the chair and Sasha didn't move from his place in front of it. With a great amount of effort, the Labrador managed to get his thoroughly exhausted body to force a few more words out of his muzzle, "Where you headin' next?"
Sasha's practiced smile returned, "Somewhere north."
Hoss was too drunk and too close to passing out by that point to realize what the young man meant. Considering the cooling weather, anyone without a home would have been stupid to head NORTH in the winter... but Sasha, despite everything in his life that'd happened to him, had always been religious, and he didn't mean upstate... he meant up. They exchanged their goodbyes, and then Sasha was gone. It was barely two months later when the obituary listed Sasha's name.
Hoss called in sick the day of the publication... and the next two. He told his bosses that his tail didn't have its usual wag. Everyone who knew Hoss knew he was the town clown, and if he wasn't wagging then there was something seriously wrong... of course, only the Labrador was aware that they couldn't even begin to know the truth of just how wrong things were.