 
CONDOM ASSOCIATION

By

Ricardo Aardal

©2016

ONE

Woof! I give my good friend Cam Stalk a warm welcome bark and an extra wag of my furry tail on this beautiful Southern California Monday morning.

The bulging muscled surfer strides out of the front door of our condominium complex with surfboard in hand heading for the sandy beach and wicked waves. "How's the Prince of Peach Palace?"

Woof! I grace the kind-hearted condo owner with a thumbs up bark.

"How about you come with me later in the week?" the wave riding stoner asks. For every so often he takes me on the board with him. Wow! That is cool. Even though I hate water, I love me some surfing with Cam!

Woof! Woof! I give the sandy-haired dude a couple of good luck barks, and assume my early morning ritual of sunning myself on the front steps of Peach Palace.

The beachfront Peach Palace is a four story, 50 unit condominium building at 69 Pacific Road In Huntington Beach, California. It is a cool condominium complex with lots of crazy-ass humans. We hug the border of the uppity community of Newport Beach. And many of our residents attempt to pretend they really live in Newport Beach. But not a chance, we are Huntington Beach through and through.

Although I live in this beachfront paradise in Orange County, I do not live in any particular unit. My doggy charms are shared by all the residents in this place. Well, maybe not all. Nevertheless, I like this gig. Pays not so good. But plenty of benefits. I get three squares a day, plenty of unhealthy doggy treats, lots of petting, a bath once a month which sucks, and endless entertainment as each condo owner in this nut house is a horror show or comedy on their own.

On top of the picturesque ocean views from each condo, this complex has some pretty sweet amenities to entertain the humans. It boasts of a sprawling salt-water swimming pool, even though a world-class sandy beach awaits across the street. Also, Peach Palace possesses a twelve-seater hot tub, sauna, gym, games room, putting green, tennis courts, conference room and common room. The common room is where I live. I have my little doggy bed in the corner.

Overall, the common room makes a cool doggy pad— works magic on my doggy dates. It has a bar, big screen TV, kitchen and beautiful leather couch and chairs which I am not allowed to sleep on. Piss on that, I sleep on the soft Italian leather when the lights go out. That hoarding busybody Mrs. Winkles has attempted to catch me. However, the crazy old bag, who only wears a thirty year old house coat and pair of slippers, is just too slow.

The Home Owners Association built me a little doggy door in that common room. That way, I can come and go as I please. Plan my dates with the doggy ladies. Meet my canine buddies to run the streets, and sometimes I sneak out to see where one of our upstanding condo owners is heading. Oh, and the sort of places they sneak and slither.

I am one of those smart-ass perky pomeranian dogs. One of those cute fluffy white cuddly toys that looks like a puppy. But I am five years old. I am a feisty man dog, with man dog desires. And if you think I have crazy ass desires. Wow! You should see some of the desires our condo owners harbour. I know everyone, and I know everything that transpires in this bastion of sin, sex and scandal.

So, how did I come to live in this want-to-be upscale condominium complex which does not allow dogs? Well, back a few years ago, they found me on their doorstep. I flashed my sparkling dark eyes, wriggled my cute puppy ears, whined, nuzzled and licked. Then to top it off, I did a couple of basic puppy dog tricks, and voila! I had a home. That was an easy con job!

However, the HOA executive decided to name me Snowflake. That is the stupidest name for a dog. Just because I am part of the snowflake pedigree of pomeranian dogs — no reason to punish me with that sissy name. I wanted a big dog name like Killer, Bowser or Chopper — or better yet, Stud! But they went with a powder puff name. Let me say it loud and clear — I hate Snowflake for a handle.

Oh boy, here comes Olivia Roads, wife of the President of the Home Owners Association, and all around Queen Bee of Peach Palace. Her and her husband, Bill Roads, retired here on the beach. This condo complex is their entire live.

"Snowflake the mutt!" she snaps as I avoid her attempt to kick me.

Ruff! That is my fuck you bark, and anyone who calls me Snowflake gets it. I have worked on this big boy bark for years. Finally perfected it. It now sounds much deeper than one would ever imagine from a dog of my stature.

I dodge a stone she throws at me. "I hate dogs!" The crabby old lady wearing an ugly billowing bag dress plants her fat ass on the bench. That tacky bench which was set up for smokers to enjoy the ocean view, spread their disgusting smoke and spread their nasty gossip. "Get off the steps!" Olivia yells with her melancholy distain poisoning the air.

Ruff! Ruff! That is a double fuck you bark, and I stand my ground. This bag of bones makes my skin turn. It has been one continuous battle between us since I arrived.

"If I had my way, you'd be on the street."

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Triple fuck you. And if I had my way, I'd run your wrinkled body right into that ocean across the street. She does not know it, but when I found her sandals left by the Peach Palace swimming pool, I just had to personally water them. That was payback, for she caught me with one of her big-foot kicks yesterday while I was dozing in this very spot.

"You wait!" She lights up a smoke. "I'm the real power here. And I'll bury you, the way you bury your bones. Then I'll bury your friends!"

Now this scheming bag of lard can threaten me all she wants, but not my friends. Err! That is my last chance growl. If she pisses me off any more, a little nip will follow. And that one is much too slow to catch me when I am awake. My growl works extremely well in scaring the cats too. For they think it is some sort of dangerous dog.

Yes, Peach Palace does let cats live here. They are a fucking pain in the ass. I gotta watch those whining witches with their sharp claws. I also catch those horny tomcats trying to sneak in through my doggy door, and bang one of Peach Palace's pussy's in heat. And man, do we have a ton of those mean slutty felines. And they never let me live down the fact I'm named Snowflake.

It is the morning of the big Home Owners Association meeting. And I mean big, for one month ago we had one of Southern California's many earthquakes. However, this was a real shaker. It rattled the foundation of this building. I pissed my doggy bed. One of the few times I actually slept there.

The entire Peach Palace complex went to rocking and rolling. My bed ended up on the other side of the room. I was still in it, upside down, wet and frightened. And a coffee table leg almost stuck up my little ass.

Unfortunately, this building did quite the structural dance during that quake. The assessment of damages has been completed by an engineering firm. The report is to be communicated at tonight's HOA meeting. And woe boy, just how much cash will this cost to fix that structural tango?

Enough of inhaling Queen Olivia's second hand smoke, I head to hang out around the hot tub. That is where all the good gossip flows. Oh great! Our President of the Home Owners Association, Bill Roads, enjoys a morning soak in the chlorine laden boiling water.

"Snowflake!" Bill splashes me. "You little pecker!"

Ruff! I give him my fuck you bark! This potent aftershave wearing jerk not only irritates my sense of smell, he makes my skin crawl, makes my inside churn.

"Hello Snowflake, Peach Palace's little live toy," said the pretentious VP of the HOA, the middle aged Whitney Thorn-berg. The local wine distributor soaks in the hot tub right next to Bill.

Ruff! Ruff! I give her a double fuck you bark for she is the snob who suggested my name. I sprawl out and enjoy the sun. I listen in on what their plan is, amazed with their sense of self importance.

"Whitney," the stocky Bill said in his low voice, "we'll have no trouble winning this battle." The former military man wishes to run the Home Owners Association in a similar manner as the army.

"But I insist my upgrades are completed as well," demands the gangly ostrich-like Whitney. "The undesirables will not interfere with my attempt to bring some sophistication to this building."

Another form of sophistication the hook nosed Whitney has pressed on us is that on the first Friday night of every month she attempts to sing opera in the common room while serving wine. Very few attend, and those only for the free booze. Most irritating is when her screeching commences, all the cats wail, weep and urinate right on the spot. The combination of hideous racket blows my little doggy eardrums. While the cat piss gags me, and waters my eyes.

"If we make a surprise offensive push," Bill declares. "Putting forward the vote tonight. No notice! I can assure victory! Got the deck stacked." He thumps his chest. "Then, depending on the mood of our enemy, we push on with your vote."

The pixie hair styled woman taps Bill on the arm. "Aren't we supposed to give some sort of notice?"

He glares at Whitney. He slaps the bubbling hot water. "Yes, I'm a stickler for rules. However, there are times in the heat of battle, a leader must abandoned the rules. If there is no major opposition, we push forward."

Wow! This former sergeant makes it interesting. I may have to do some digging, and I do not mean for bones. Oh shit! I glimpse a condom under the chair a few feet over from me. Can these humans ever stop tossing those filthy sex protection tools anywhere and everywhere? The other day I found one in my doggy bed. Yuk!

"Fortunately, I called the meeting today as some of the enemy will not attend." Bill chuckles confidently. "And when we have the vote tonight, I discretely coerced a few proxies from the gullible crowd to ensure victory."

Fifteen minutes before this evenings HOA meeting, I stroll by Trisha Rai's condo. She is the VP Finance for the Home Owners Association. Hmm. That's funny her door is slightly open. Let me peak in. Oh hell, let me just nose my way in, and check out what is going on. Holy shit! The generous lipped beauty is blowing some dude right there on her couch. She catches me out of the corner of her eye, giving me the thumbs up.

The raven haired Trisha takes a break. "Hi big dog!" She winks and shares a fleeting smile.

Woof! I give her my carry on bark. I like Trisha, she's flaky, but funny and cool.

She grabs a condom from her coffee table. Slaps the extra large on the moaning gent, not that he needs that size. She proceeds to mount Reverend Wallis from 408. Trisha is a professional Life Coach, and Reverend Wallis is a helper of those suffering. So, maybe, these two people helpers are giving each other some well-needed support? The kind Mrs. Wallis cannot give the local church leader.

Or possibly, the elderly Paster is on one of his missionary kicks determined to convert all pretty young sinners. Except there is no missionary position here — ride em girl. The permanently chatting and smiling sweetheart brings a life-changing smile to the bible thumper as they head down the home stretch. She picks up the pace, be careful Trisha. He has a weak ticker.

Reverend Wallis yells, "Praise the Lord!" Smack! The dedicated pulpit pounder slaps Trisha's perfectly designed backend as he trots across the finish line.

TWO

I am not going to be late for the meeting. So, I head off shaking my head, knowing the organ playing Mrs. Wallis cannot keep up to Trisha's talents in that area. I scut down to the main floor. I slip into the conference room behind our sure-of-himself President, Bill Roads. The grey-haired Sargent Bill wears his dress uniform. I am surprised the former army man does not insist on sharp salutes. When he barks out an order, he sure expects action. Except he sucks when it comes to actually balancing the Peach Palace books.

I settle nicely in the corner, no one notices me. Except, oh damn! There is one of the four cats Mrs. Winkles owns. The cunning cat sits smugly on the wacky bat's lap. Mrs. Winkles appears as if in a trans while she pets her purring pussy. Will that hunch-backed lady ever wear anything but that hideous housecoat and slippers? Will that cat ever stop giving me the evil eye?

Hiss! I ignore the snarly puss. For that is the one that has not been enjoying any tail lately. No wonder she is so bitchy. Is there such a thing as a pussy vibrator?

"My good amigo," Jose Hernandez leans over, pets me and whispers in my ear. "Grande You could kick her ass. But you are too much the gentle-dog!" I love this guy and his wife, Vanessa. They always make me feel loved. I gaze round the room. I scan the condo owners. Most shake like leaves, for just how much is the damage?

Blah blah blah. The meeting rambles on with the preliminary crap. Better late then never, as in walks our happy-go-lucky VP Finance, Trisha. She supports some kind of smoking hot well-shaped body that keeps every males eyes glued to it. Also, the hostile expressions on the faces of some of the ladies towards the sensual gal are quite evident.

The former Miss Calcutta flashes her dazzling smile and wiggles to the front of the room where the HOA executive sit. Oh yes, Trisha does not know a fucking thing about finance or accounting. But woe, does the scantily dressed exotic delight liven up the executive meetings. And I hope she didn't give Reverend Wallis a heart attack when she road the bible-thumper.

"The cost to fix the structural damages is approximately 5 million dollars," Bill said in a self assured voice announcing every syllable for effect.

"No way!" the tall heavy-set Bucky Barns shouts in his deep voice as he hammers the table numerous times. "Just no way!" Bucky is an early fifties giant who is a starving comedian. However, thanks to his sister, he is able to live at Peach Palace.

"Relax Bucky," assures Anna Romanov. "The HOA has insurance. It'll all be covered."

Bill shoots daggers at Anna and clears his voice, "There appears to be a slight obstacle in regard to the insurance."

"What do you mean?" inquires Anna who is a local realtor and Russian immigrant? She ventured to Hollywood to make her mark. And like so many beautiful girls from all over the world, they are forced to find a real job. Anna selected real-estate — done okay for herself. Oh yeah, she hates Bill and his chain-smoking wife, Olivia with a passion. And they feel exactly the same about Anna.

"Minor obstacle." Bill stares straight ahead. "The building was not insured for earthquake damage."

"Has to be!" insists Anna. "We have two policies, one for regular insurance, and the second for earthquake."

"Yes, that was last year," Bill said tonelessly. "However, this year, only the regular insurance was renewed."

"Who is responsible?" Anna asks in her slight Russian accent. "And this is a huge issue! Not a minor obstacle!"

"The cheque was mailed for the earth quake insurance," Bill explains. "But never reached its destination."

"Wouldn't someone follow up on this?" Anna gives Trisha a scathing look. "Why do we have a VP of Finance?"

Trisha looks up from staring at her nails and giggles. "Oh come on guys. You know that numbers aren't really my thing."

Moans and groans from everyone. I can vouch for that, trying to put a condom on a six inch cock, on an old guy who had no more than three to four going for him.

"Then you're responsible Bill," Bucky accuses.

Bill shakes his head. "Not a President's role. We must accept this mishap and move on!"

"Holy shit!" Anna stands and screams. "This will cost us big time!"

Bill scowls and motions Anna to sit. "Show some discipline! Now the engineering firm has provided detailed estimates. The building did suffer major damage. But if we contract the repair job to them, they will also re-service the tennis courts for us as a throw in."

"Yes!" the short Bubbles Heart jumps up and lets her humongous bosoms shake and jiggle for all to see. Bubbles is the secretary for the HOA, and happens to be sitting next to the President. She squeals and shimmies with delight. "Those tennis courts need to be fixed. This works out great."

"Thanks Bubbles!" Bill winks at the attractive blonde bimbo who is a fixture in the hot tub. The two-piece wearing, continuous chatting and fidgeting lady sets records for the amount of gossip sessions she is involved in. Only Olivia Roads can rival the bouncy-breasted Bubbles.

Anna sits back down, slumps and sighs. Others in the crowd share in that heavy sigh.

"Oh my God!" Vanessa Hernandez exclaims. "So we each have to pay 100,000 if we want the building to stay standing; and all because of the HOA executive incompetence."

"Hey!" A slurring Olivia Roads stands shakily and defends her husband. "No need for that kind of talk. An innocent mistake. It was the US Postal Service's fault anyway." The overweight lady plunks back in her chair with a huge thump.

"Why are we not paying our insurance electronically?" Vanessa inquires.

"Security is paramount to me. I don't trust electronic payments," Bill said curtly.

Vanessa chuckles. "But you trust the Postal Service?"

Anna slaps the table. "I can't bare this. These poor folks being hung out to dry." The room appears as if someone collectively kicked them all in the kahunas, except for smiling Bubbles and Trisha.

The other condo owner who does not look phased is my buddy Cam. The gorgeously sculpted surfer smoked a couple of joints before he hit the meeting. His glazed look tells me he is dreaming of his next big wave. And the hungry wide-eyes directed at Cam's muscles from the impeccably tailored Larry Larson, our gay travel agent, makes me think he is dreaming of something more erotic involving Cam.

The Vice President of the HOA, Whitney Thorn-berg stands, poses with a superior tilt of her head, and addresses the group in her fake aristocratic tone, "I think we can all step up to the financial challenge. For it is not too onerous a sum."

"Please!" Vanessa sighs in disgust.

Whitney flashes Vanessa a lethal look. "And I believe it is an excellent opportunity to throw in some additional funds on each of our behalf's. That way we can tile all common floors and hallways in marble, eliminating the tacky excuse for flooring we currently suffer with." Grumbling from the crowd sparks the VP to raise her voice in anger. "People! The cheap tile, and stained carpet will not do!"

Anna moans and whispers, "And who did that?" Chuckles sound from those around the Realtor as it is common knowledge that the wine club ladies are notorious for their hallway carpet spills and throw up sessions. However, the four wine club ladies are protected by President Bill cause his wife, Olivia, is a founding member.

A glow of excitement fills Whitney's face as she carries on oblivious to the mockery, "We can paint all the hallways and ceilings — hang elegant chandeliers throughout." She claps her hands in excitement. "Plus, we must significantly upgrade the pool, hot tub, sauna, and re-landscape the entire grounds of Peach Palace." Her voice hits another level of excitement. "And you'll love this, build four giant marble four-tiered fountains in the front, along with re-facing the entire front of our building in matching marble. Oh, and there is some to-die-for art work and statues that would go splendidly in our entrance and hallways as well. And of course, only one of a kinds will do."

"Get fucking real," Anna shouts.

"No need for that type of language," Whitney protests in her nasal voice. "Besides, if we want to keep up with the Newport crowd, we need our building to be chic."

"We live in Huntington Beach," the excitable Vanessa yells. "We do not live in Newport Beach. When will you get that through your snobby head?"

Whitney hoists her surgically altered nose in the air. "We practically live in Newport. We are just over the boundary line."

"What happens if we don't fix the structural damage?" Chuck Stone asks. Chuck is the jovial, overweight, over-friendly husband of Bubbles Heart. I got to think that was a planted question for Chuck is not the sharpest tack in the box.

"Good question." Bill responds. " The engineering firm emphatically indicated we will have to move out of Peach Palace. In other words, fix it, or leave!"

Mumbling and grumbling increases in volume. They are starting to hurt my sensitive ears. Look at the certified life coach, Trisha, she texts away on her phone, probably lining up a client right now. And look at bald-headed Chuck, his leering eyes cannot get enough of her.

The lascivious Chuck is the resident peeking Tom. He skulks and slithers around Peach Palace, eyes constantly fixated on the young girls windows. Praying he catches them parading around in their beachwear, evening wear, bras, panties, thongs or nude. In fact, a few of the residents enjoy cleaning naked, or just tanning on their balcony in the nude. And creepy crawler Chuck is right there straining his neck, gawking, savouring the sight. Also, Chuck has a nasty habit of scratching his ass. Wow! From my low vantage point, I can clearly see, he satisfies that itch right now.

The mumbling continues until the slow speaking Cam asks, "Are there any other options?"

Bill barks in a condescending tone, "Please keep up with us private, I mean Cam." The President rolls his eyes. "We either pay the 5 million, or move out. I order we vote right now. And next meeting I demand we vote for an additional amount to cover what Whitney recommended."

Vanessa steps in to re-enforce Cam's point. "Are you sure we have exhausted all possibilities?" I can always tell when Vanessa is thinking hard for she tucks on her ear unconsciously. Oops! That earring just popped off. I nudge Jose. I point my nose at the runaway earring. He snaps it up, giving me a grateful pat on the head.

Anna jumps on the theme. "I agree, maybe there is something else we can do?"

Olivia frowns and growls. "Like what?"

"Look at selling the building," suggests Anna.

Whitney lets out a high-pitched chortle. "Preposterous! Fellow owners, let's attempt to show some semblance of reality."

"At least it is an option," Vanessa said. "I think before the next meeting we should look at that option, and any other options, before we vote on anything."

Affirmations sound from many in the crowd.

"Please people!" Whitney huffs. "No use prolonging the inevitable. Let's take the vote, and be done with the issue."

"Good thinking!" supports Chuck. "Hand out the ballots."

"Let's move civilians!" commands Bill.

"Sorry!" Anna holds up her hands. "No vote on money can be taken unless proper notice is given. And it has not been given."

Bill flushes. For this is his area of expertise. He attempts to speak, nothing comes out.

"Ah, but they were going to fix the tennis courts," whines Bubbles.

Bill touches his metals, and tries one last time, "People, We need to move forward now!"

"No, we don't! There will be no vote until next meeting," Vanessa asserts with several nods from the room.

Bill clinches his jaw, turns purple in anger. Will he attack someone? Whitney waves a well manicured hand in a dismissive manner and said cattily, "Let the unrefined have their moment."

Anna rises to leave. "Rules will not allow a vote tonight. The executive must go away and do this right for the next meeting."

Bill glares bazookas at Anna and Vanessa. He swallows hard, looks down and grimaces. "Next meeting it is. One week from tonight." And is that Bubbles' hand slipping under the table, stroking Bill's knee comfortingly? Or is that something else she is stroking?

Immediately after the meeting breaks up, the various factions head their separate ways. Who will I follow? I think I'll trail after Anna Romanov who is sending a text. That tall dark-haired beauty owns an incredible set of legs. She shows them off to the fullest. Wears the shortest of skirts, and when this model thin human puts on her thigh high leather boots which she walks in right now. Bow! Wow! Some kind of sizzling sight!

Where is she going? Cause she lives on the fourth floor, and she is heading out the front of the building. One thing about Anna when she walks, she always appears as if she is scared. She carries that ever searching skittish look as if someone is following her. She also has numerous locks, security devices in her condo and on her car.

Oh, look here, she makes her way cautiously over to a huge limo parked off to the side. I sneak a little closer so my doggy ears hear all. The window from the limo lowers.

"Anna," a voice with a thick Russian accent whispers. "Did it go according to plan?"

Anna peers about to ensure no one is watching. She sees me, she motions me to come. So I do. "Yes, it went according to plan."

I jump into her arms. She holds me tight. I love when Anna cuttles me into her perky breasts. Such a heavenly place for a horny dog like me.

"Excellent!" Echoes from the gruff guttural voice. "Wait for our next instructions. And..."

Anna sticks her hand threw the window, and passes an envelope. The window rises. The car speeds off. Woe! If she hangs around with this type of crowd, I see why security is paramount.

She smothers me in an extra warm hug. "Oh my friend; and I sometimes think you are my only real friend. What kind of mess am I in?"

THREE

After that perplexing episode with Anna I had a restless sleep on my favourite leather couch. In addition, the Hernandez's were at it again last night. No, not fighting! But love making — roaring rapturous love making. When gorgeous Vanessa and handsome Jose go at it,their sexual sounds hit new heights. They live on the second floor, directly above the common room. I tried to sleep. However, they were lust-making loud. Both were hot and horny last night. And have they got stamina. The Latino lovers should, they both work out, eat healthy and take care of themselves.

Many in the complex hate them cause of their incredible statures. Numerous have attempted to lure one or both into some sort of pleasure packed game, either in the hot tub, sauna, pool, or whatever. And no way! They only fuck each other, and man do they do it well. I bet the entire building hears the massive multiples when that passionate goddess, Vanessa, gets to belting out her exclamations of elation.

The next morning I make my rounds at Peach Palace. All seems to be in order. Except, another used condom, this time laying outside the door of the two seater sauna. Gross! Who is leaving these disease ridden things everywhere? Hmm. I bet it is that swinging couple, Chuck Stone and Bubbles Heart. Time for me to take corrective action.

So, I scurry back to my doggy bed. Underneath that uncomfortable bed, I hide my stack of HOA warning tickets. These are only to be issued by the President. But, a resourceful dog like me scammed a few. I can acquire more if necessary. I also bring along a napkin I will utilize to wrap and carry that filthy condom — want them to understand why they were issued the HOA warning slip — but this canine will never directly touch one of those sperm-filled contraceptives.

Race by the sauna, Grab that condom, and I am off to play doggy cop. Bubbles and Chuck reside on the third floor. Here I go, not a human insight. I put the warning slip down, and attempt to shove it under their door. Good enough! Also, leave the napkin with the condom hidden inside. Now to exit stage right.

Time for me to head to the centre of all gossip at Peach Palace. The hot tub where buckets of booze are consumed daily. Many innocent flirtations have literarily erupted into steamy intercourse sessions, or a knock down drag em out fight — and sometimes both.

The ring leader Olivia perches on a chair outside the hot tub puffing on a cigarette talking to Whitney, Bubbles and Mrs. Winkles. This uninspiring back-stabbing gossip gang of four calls themselves the Peach Palace wine club. There is no shortage of wine consumed and whining words spewed out by this gang.

Mrs. Winkles sits beside Olivia with her ugly beige housecoat and slippers on. Does the nut job wear anything under the garment? There is no cat on her lap to pet today. Except her hand ventures down lower every few minutes to stroke her other pussy. Gross! Otherwise, the sixty-five year old, Mrs. Winkles, puffs on a smoke flicking her ashes in the hot tub, guzzling her wine. This crack pop totally looses it when the alcohol hits her. Scary!

Only two of the wine club enjoy the swirling bubbles in the hot tub. Bubbles and Whitney soak while playing on their phones. These two are obsessed with all forms of social media. The amount of selfies and narcissistic tweets they produce extend beyond belief. They even co-ordinate a page for Peach Palace news. The self promoting pic cluster is 90% about themselves. The remainder is senseless gossip. Seldom do they go more than a few minutes without snapping some sort of pic. They never soak without their phones.

Now Mrs. Winkles never enters the water, thank goodness for that. Also, Queen Olivia never dips a toe in — never shows her body in public. Her weight is the reason I think. However, the way she sits in that luxurious throne, looking down on anyone soaking — it gives her a definite aura of Queen Olivia, Queen of the gossip, Queen of Peach Palace. Well, let me find out what the quarrelsome Queen is saying today?

Olivia pounds the arm of her chair. "That Anna is such a bitch!"

"Totally!" The forty-four year old Bubbles agrees. "Not even from this country."

"Young tart!" Olivia drains her wine glass, lets out a rip-roaring belch, and pours another glass. "Needs to be taught a lesson." They have already polished off a large bottle, and this is just their breakfast session.

"I would have had my tennis courts fixed," Bubbles complains. "But, that Anna, and that other bitch, Vanessa, screwed that up."

"I would have had my upgrades." Whitney snorts. "If not for those two commoners."

"They are cheap trash," Bubbles snipes as her bikini top slides off her breast. "Look how slutty they dress." The issue is not so much how they dress, but how the wine club ladies have the attention diverted from them when the young beauties are near.

"And I've reprimanded them for their inappropriate clothing," Olivia boasts with Mrs. Winkles nodding her head vehemently in agreement. The Queen sticks our her chest, carries on with her authoritarian tone, "I have demanded the Swedish slut put on appropriate clothing as well."

One of the part time gardeners is a young fanatical social justice warrior. This blonde bombshell supports one deadly body. When she prunes the plants around the complex, or more often protests some new social issue in front of the building, Bill and Chuck cannot get enough of her youthful effervescent jiggling. However, the wine club have no issue with the muscular bare shirted male gardener who flirts endlessly with the ladies. Many wonder if he has trimmed any of their bushes? This dog knows the truth on that one.

"Finally, Miss Sweden is dealt with." Bubbles shakes her jealous fist. " Now Anna and Vanessa must be put in their place."

"Quite so!" Whitney agrees.

Olivia elevates her nose in the air. "My Bill will get it done next time."

I am positioned in such a manner as to see the screen on Bubbles' phone. I spot a pic of a naked Bill with a huge hard-on. "Your Bill is great at getting it done," the perky Bubbles giggles and savours a long drink.

"Time for us as the leaders of the wine club, to show just who runs this building," Olivia grinds her teeth. "We need some dirt!"

"We're masters at that sleaze game," brags Bubbles. "Time to get down and dirty!"

I do not like where this is going. For if these four scum bags begin some sort of sleaze campaign with my good-hearted friends — it could get nasty. Therefore, I may have to play a few nasty tricks to aid with the fight. Later this afternoon I will place a dearly departed mouse on Queen Olivia's bench just a few minutes before she drops her sorry ass down. And that is my formal declaration of war against the wicked witches of the wine club. But for now I let fly with some nose-wrinkling canine farts that will send the wine club scampering from this area.

Olivia's face floods with a dark sinister look. "Putting those trash in their place will be enjoyable." She sniffs the contaminating air. All the ladies eyes begin to water. They rise and cough.

"I know my list," Olivia sputters and hacks. She hands pieces of paper to Bubbles and Whitney. "Here is your list of people to screw over. And screw them good!"

An hour later I'm out front when Cam, the surfer man, strolls back from the beach carrying his board. "Tomorrow morning, Buddy! We hit the waves!"

Woof! Woof! I give a double affirmative bark. I love this guy. I race out eagerly to greet him, tongue hanging out, tail wagging.

I am not the only one waiting for Cam. For out of the front door sashays Larry Larson. His tongue hangs out too. Oh, his tail wags welcomingly as well. The tall impeccably dressed late thirties globetrotter seizes every opportunity to chat with well sculpted Cam who is ten years his junior.

"Cam!" Larry strides forward giving the surfer a huge hug. This guys gay radar is off. Cause it is clear that Cam is not interested. But, I give this successful travel agent credit, he never gives up. "You must be upset about the meeting yesterday?"

"No! I'm cool!" Cam attempts to move on.

"No use you putting on that front with me." Larry taps Cam on the shoulder. "I know the financial setback could break my surfer friend."

"I'll be okay Larry," Cam said confidently. "But thanks for your concern."

"Well, just to show I am concerned." Larry pulls out a brand new gold iWatch. "I got you a little something."

Cam shakes his head. "No, I don't need."

"Oh come on silly." Larry holds out his wrist to show off his shiny new iWatch. "Look, we'll have matching."

"I can't accept this gift."

"Oh don't be so proud. I'll just keep it for another day."

Thank you for the gesture, but..."

"It'll be there for when we better know each other." Larry steps in a little closer. "And you won't have to be proud when it comes to your humongous upcoming condo bill." He places his arm around the squirming surfer. "You know that I'm here to help my special friend." Larry gives Cam's rippling bicep a meaningful squeeze.

A lovely warm night when I notice Chuck Stone and Bubbles Heart lurking behind a thick bushy tree spying on the empty hot tub. This peaks my interest for what are those two sex seeking condo owners up to? I make my way to that hot tub to investigate.

"Hi Grande!" Jose calls out as he and his voluptuous wife slip up to the well lit hot tub area. They throw off their robes, pet me, and hop in. Man! That Vanessa wears a killer two piece. She has one curvaceous body, and her luminous smile can light up the night sky.

"Hey Grande!" She purrs in that sexy Latino accent. "I'm going to set you up with a shapely little Cocker Spaniel I know."

Woof! Woof! Woof! Anytime Vanessa! For if she's half as delicious as you, she'll be a ten. These two busy professionals are polite, but keep to themselves. Both enjoy successful careers. Vanessa as an Accountant in one of the big firms. Jose is a High School Principal. So, their public image is important to them.

Here come Chuck and Bubbles. So, that's what is going on. They know the Hernandez's come the same time every Tuesday for a soothing soak. It is their time to pounce.

"Oh fancy meeting you two here." Bubbles hops in with tits a flopping, cuddling close to Jose. While Chuck, with his wolfish grin and roving hands, steps in practically sitting on Vanessa's knee.

The Hernandez's struggle to move away. However, the two lecherous losers keep on creeping closer. This could become nasty. Then out of the corner of my eye, I spy Olivia with a smoke in one hand, phone in the other. She hides behind a bush and large chair, attempting to line up to snap a picture. With her big black cat named Claws standing right beside her levelling those evil cat eyes at me.

I thought Olivia would have had enough today, for the mouse trick worked to perfection. Her screams could be heard up in Northern California. Unfortunately, poor Claws took the blame — do I sense revenge in that pusses glare?

"Stay a while." The lecherous Chuck endeavours to pull Vanessa closer. "Let's get all cosy!" He grasps at her bikini top. Bubbles has already slid her top off, and attempts to rub her huge offerings up against Jose, flashing that I-want-to-defile-you smile. Jose's eye commences to twitch. For any time the Principal becomes nervous, that unconscious habit fires up.

Smack! Vanessa slaps Chuck's hand away. "We are leaving," she struggles to rise as clammy hands Chuck holds her back. His lust filled eyes are about to pop. He is about to cream his speedo. Yes, Chuck wears this red ultra-tight speedo that shows all. And it is enough to make all humans and dogs vomit.

I move quickly for it does not take a genius to figure out what is going down. How this pic could be used as some sort of blackmail. I race straight for Claws. Err! Sending the hair on that monster cat straight in the air. It snarls, lines up a swipe with its sharp nails. However, I swerve at the last second. Those racer sharps graze my fur — only a small booboo. I am able to swish narrowly by Olivia's leg. Except the lunging cat falls into the pic taking Queen. A crash and scream fill the evening. I snicker as I turn and survey the damage.

Queen Olivia is flat on her ass. Chair turned over. Clumsy cat is woozy from a knock on the head from the chair. The phone lays on the ground. No way, that pic got taken. Watch where you fall Claws as you wobble around! Eek! Too bad, that cat plunked its ass on that lit cigarette. That pussy will not stop running for a week.

Jose and Vanessa storm out of the hot tub, and call me to their side. "Let's go Grande." Jose rubs my head appreciatively. "You deserve a treat!" Thank goodness his out-of-control eye decided to calmed down.

Vanessa straightens with pride, shoots her sharp eyes at each culprit. "I don't know what the fuck was going on here," she clinches her fist. "But if you ever pull something like that again. I will use my fifth degree black belt and kick your ass, one by one."

Jose chuckles. "And she will!"

Olivia mutters under her breath, "I'll kill you first!"

I totally enjoy my tasty treat at the Hernandez's condo. They keep the most flavourful doggy delights for me. And if they ever serve up a sexy Cocker Spaniel, that would be the ultimate mind-blowing delight. Yummy!

I am to sleep on their couch. So comfy! And getting to watch the vivacious Vanessa flaunt flirtatiously about the condo in her skimpy black silk lingerie and her high heels is like icing on the treat. When she gives me a good night kiss and cuttle — I think I have died and went to doggy heaven — being smothered in her gargantuan bosoms.

Their bedroom door gapes wide open for me to check in on the action. The real show is about to begin. Last night I only heard the intercourse exclamations — tonight I get to witness the sex explosion first hand.

Jose speaks in his playful Latino voice, "Maybe we should let Grande see we can perform in his preferred style?"

"Ooh Jose!" Vanessa drops on all fours in front of the mirror, spreads invitingly, arches her back preparing for a smooth deep penetrating entry. "Woof! Woof!" she's said playfully as she wriggles her jaw-dropping ass. "Give your girl a bone."

A male musky smell permeates from an alter aroused Jose. He goes down on his knees, settles in behind her, grasps Vanessa by her hips, commences to slide that monstrous shaft into her welcoming vagina. Woe! If I had a tool like that, I could give that sizeable streamlined great Dane over at the Sandy Towers condo complex next door a proper shagging. That gentle giant goddess that leans way down to lick my balls, sniff my ass and begs to be humped. But, first I need a sturdy stool to stand on, even then I am not sure I have the heavy duty equipment to ensure her satisfaction.

A wide eyed Vanessa gasps as that endless thick penis enters. "Wow! Jose, you fill me," she purrs in a steamy sultry voice. She glimpses me in the mirror, graces me with her radiant smile, giggles and winks. "Grande, you take notes."

Jose initiates a slow and rhythmic stroke. I can see both of their expressions of ecstasy in the mirror. Vanessa moans as she shoves her awesome ass to meet every one of Jose's thrilling thrusts. Jose feasts on her sounds of pure passion. Her huge jugs bounce in time with Jose's masculine stroke. One of those quarter sized dark nipples protrudes out of her tight lingerie. Jose's handsome facial features tighten. His back and thigh muscles ripple, playing this steamy session like a conductor of a well-tuned orchestra. Maximizing the pleasure from each exhilarating, yet controlled stroke.

Vanessa skillfully reaches back and massages Jose's bursting testicles. "Fuck me hard baby!" Jose's ecstatic eyes practically leap out of his head!

Now the intensity increases. The stroke rate increases. The heavy panting increases. Here comes the mega-loud groaning, then comes the lengthy shrieking and screaming.

Suddenly, when the well-timed orgasm erupts from both lovers. I try to cover my ears with my paws for the decimal level is off the charts.

Except, I do not cover my eyes. For I gaze at Vanessa's rosy cheeks which glow of sweet bliss. Her expressive eyes tell the entire ecstasy story. While Jose's sparkling smile tells his own pleasure packed tale. The sexual satisfaction surrounding both their panting perspiring bodies is astonishing!

I slump back down on the couch. My cock stands to attention knowing where my dreams will head. I am fast asleep in a second — ready for lust-filled REM sleep.

FOUR

A wind-packed Wednesday morning and I am out front waiting eagerly. I slept like a rock, even though I had some wild fantasies involving riding a certain great Dane — human style. Their Cam comes, big smile on his face, and board waxed and ready. "Time to ride some waves, Prince?"

Woof! That is my let's get at it bark. I feel frisky and strong. I love going down to the beach. Lots of hot sexy dogs wiggling around with their practically nude owners. The closer humans venture to the beach, the less they like to wear. The closer we dogs get to the beach — the more we like to run, splash and fornicate. Although, banging a lovely pooch, who has been rolling about on the sand, can be a challenge. With those grains of the fine stuff plastered in and around her snatch — it does take a bit of fun away from the frolicking. Unless we take our cavorting into the shallow water.

We arrive at the beach — I am ready to ride that board. We hit a few short runs — all were awesome! We head back in one hour, drenched and happy. Except the entire time, Cam did seem a bit preoccupied. Although he did share a couple of important bits of info.

He said while paddling out to a small wave, "That Anna is chill." I think the two would be great together. Many would think the hard working ambitious Anna and the laid-back, hardcore-gamer Cam are complete opposites. Then he confessed, "Although Prince, until I get my little problem down under fixed, there'll be none of that action."

As we approach Peach Palace who else but the luscious legged Anna steps out of the front door setting out for a walk. Cam waves, that sparks a scintillating smile reflecting the sun, and an I-am-interested return wave. Their eyes lock for just that I-lust-for-you second, then break quickly. She holds out her hands and I take the cue to race into her arms and snuggle in for a hug.

"I can see he's got you hooked as well," Cam said.

"He is a special one." The high hem wearing lady rubs my belly.

Ooh, that feels so good. Look at how they light up around each other. Why cannot humans be more like dogs? When it is obvious, us canines leave no doubt. Saving all that silly romance, wine and dine time. We head straight to the dirty dance — straight to the sweaty sex. But, these two will play that ridiculous pre-sex game.

"Can I borrow my friend?" Anna asks with wide bright eyes staring at Cam's handsome face.

"Absolutely!" Cam drinks in her stunning features. "He's all yours." Except he fidgets like a school boy.

"How was the surfing?" Anna inquires, clearly, attempting to prolong the conversation.

"Ah! Ah!" He pulls on his ear. "It was awesome!" This usually cool dude seems so awkward around the former Russian model.

"Sometime, you'll have to take me?" Anna inquires sweetly.

"Ah! Well, I'm not sure if you'd like it." Cam looks down. "But..."

I can see I need to help him out. Woof! Woof!

Anna chuckles and hugs me. "I think our mutual friend just made us a surfing date."

"Ah, I think so."

"How about tomorrow, early afternoon?"

"Great!"

Anna touches his bicep lightly and flashes a mega smile. "Can't wait!"

Cam turns a bright red and said uncertainly, "For, for sure." He reaches down and brushes his crotch unconsciously, but only for a second, nothing obnoxious. However, this doggy now knows something is amiss.

Cam looks down sheepishly, and heads inside. Anna snuggles me closer to her chest as we head out to enjoy the Huntington Beach ocean air.

She moves at a brisk pace, continually peering about anxiously. "He's a nice guy."

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! You better believe that, I tell her in multiple barks.

Anna laughs nervously. "Although I wonder if he likes me?"

Woof! I tell her yes with my deepest of doggy barks, and an affirmative lick of her hand.

Suddenly, tears begin flowing down her cheeks. "But if Sergey knew." She shutters and scans all bout. "Cam's a dead man!"

That afternoon I watch Bucky shoot pool in the games room. Bucky is one funny guy. He does have a nasty temper that on occasion he has difficulty controlling. However, the vast majority of the time, he is the nicest man you will meet. Give the shirt off his back for a friend.

"Hey, watch this combination," Bucky said. Plop! Nice shot indeed.

Woof! I give the jovial fellow a cheer. Then I spot another condom under the pool table. Somebody was screwing on the green felt. Hope he got it in the hole, or it will be sticky felt. I wonder if I could talk one of my doggy ladies up there to play some Snowflake stick.

"Hey, got a new joke for you big fella." The Comedian proceeds to tell me a really great rib tickler.

Woof! Woof! I sound my stamp of approval.

"Yeah! I like it too. Want to use it in my new monologue I'm working on." He lines up for another shot. "Doing a one-night gig over at the Sand Pile next week."

The always-welcoming Sand Pile is our neighbourhood bar down the street. The eighty year old owner rocks. He gives Bucky work when he can, but his cash is tight. Except the kind hearted gent always has a special doggy dish for me. He fills it with Bud. And no lite beer for this party-pooch.

"Hello Bucky," said Olivia utilizing a creepy tone. The slippery snake slithers into the games room. Mrs. Winkles shuffles right behind her wearing her housecoat and her favourite slippers that are in rags. Why are they in rags? I discovered them laying outside her door along with all the other junk she transports in and out of her hoarder-paradise. So, I worked them dinosaur slippers over with my razor sharp teeth, right there in front of two of her cats. And I hope the pain-in-the-ass pussy cats receive the blame.

"Hello ladies! Hope you're having a nice day."

"We're having a great day," Olivia hisses. "However, you may not be after we have a chat with you."

Bucky wipes his brow. "What, what do you mean?"

"Do you remember last year when you punched those guys out in front of our building?"

Bucky hangs his head, shifts his weight from side to side, clearly apprehensive.

Olivia slips closer like a poisonous snake ready to strike. "As I thought. Let me remind you. Four Caucasian guys were coming home from our local pub. You attacked them, sending them away bloody and bruised."

I was right there. Those drunk thugs were making racial slurs directed at Bucky's African American ancestry. It was obvious they were going to attack him. They took the first swing. I squared off with one of them. Bucky addressed the rest. Attempted to talk some sense into the scum — they wanted none of that. So, an angry Bucky and I teamed up to rough the trash up. Unfortunately, when Bucky loses his temper, he does not remember a thing.

"Well, Bucky, I happen to have a couple of pics from that altercation." She shows a pic on her phone. "And this one shows you standing over a kid, about to kick him."

Bucky attempts to defend himself. "But..."

Err! I endeavour to defend my pal. Olivia leans down to slap me. I bare my teeth, hold my ground. She steps back in surprise. My anger towards this lady goes way back. For she reminds me of my very first owner who was extremely abusive. Finally, after one severe beating — threw me out on the street. It is like reliving the nightmare when Olivia whines up to strike.

"So very obvious you assaulted these innocent kids," Olivia said smugly.

That pic does not show that that thug had a knife in his hand, and was about to take a slash at Bucky. I saw it all. Bucky kicked the knife out of the creep's hand.

"I have since learned that this poor child was under age at the time," Olivia pokes Bucky in the chest. "And you could be charged with assault of a minor."

I know that punk was part of one of our local gangs. He is one dangerous street-rat. Bucky was just defending himself and I. They were the aggressors that night.

"So, Bucky, unless you see things my way from now on."

Immediately after all the humans cleared out of the games room. I executed yesterday's HOA warning slip along with condom drop off routine. However, this time I let Whitney and her husband get the message. Then I went off to check on Trisha. Except she had a visitor. But the Life Coach welcomed me in anyway.

Trisha has me sitting on her lap while she plays on her phone. A uniform wearing Bill reviews the financial statements while he sits next to Trisha on her couch. He receives a text on his cell. He whips it out, begins to smirk.

I slip around to give myself a better view of what the wide eyed Sergeant is engrossed in. Wow! It is a photoshopped pic of Bubbles with absolutely nothing on.

After a long silence Bill puts his phone away. "Official HOA business." He slides closer to Trisha. He leans back, puts his arm around her. "All seems to be in order." He lets out a lecherous chuckle. " Once again, you've done a fine job as VP Finance."

"Thanks!" She moves away, and continues to play on her cell.

"Time for you to give me a different type of life coaching session," Bill unzips his pants. He likes to whip out things. This time, he whips out his penis. "I took a blue pill. It's starting to kick in." He then brings out his phone again. Snaps a pic of his dick, and fires it off. I am guessing that Bubbles received that gruesome gift.

Trisha raises an eyebrow in shock. She tightens her lips. "Ah!" She shifts over on the couch even more. "But..."

"Come on Honey! Do what you do best."

"No way, Bill!"

"I insist! After all, your culture wrote the book on the art of sex."

She stands up and shakes her head. "I will not!"

Err! I growl at Bill. He takes a swipe at me. But I am too fast for the retired sergeant.

"It's an order!" An impassive faced Bill leans over and grasps her wrist. "Olivia is an ugly alcoholic. I go elsewhere for my action."

"No action here!" Trisha states firmly, breaks free from his hold, and steps back.

"Then I cannot guarantee your secret is safe with me."

Trisha turns white with fear. She drops her gaze. Bill grins maliciously.

Err! Err! I jump between Bill and Trisha with my fangs bared and ready to rip Mr. President flesh.

"No, my protector," Trisha said dejectedly. She sighs in defeat. "It's okay." She removes her top, kicks her shoes off. The Life Coach removes her bra slowly, revealing her prominent dark nipples as the tears of shame tumble from her eyes.

A slow Wednesday night as I sit on Anna's lap while she works at her home office. I had been down at the Sand Pile for a couple of Buds. But, the band played all jazz. I only party to rock. So, I stumbled over to Anna's.

She is one busy realtor. Lining up appointments, closing deals, and so on. I am proud of Anna. Her cell rings. She places it on speaker.

The Russian accent echoes throughout the room, "Sergey here."

Anna tenses immediately. She grips the desk with white knuckles.

"Here is what I will offer for Peach Palace. It is 60% of what you suggested."

"I've done extensive market analysis, and the price I recommended is more than fare."

"Fuck being fare!"

She gulps. "But why would they sell?"

"That's your problem," Sergey scoffs.

Anna shakes uncontrollably and said quietly, "They will never!"

"Then your father in Moscow will lose one finger!"

FIVE

Mid morning on a cloudy Thursday as I stare through the window of the sauna, and watch Cam attempt to relax in the steamy heat. My buddy seems worried. I do not do saunas. I went in once to give it a go. Never again! I shrilled up to half my size. Not for a dog who wants to be bigger. And I mean bigger all over.

Here slinks Bubbles. "Out of the way Snowflake!" I swear she was lurking around the corner waiting for Cam to settled himself in the sauna.

Ruff! I give her my fuck off you piece of trash bark.

Bubbles Heart claims she was an accomplished actress. Except all she actually scored were a couple of low-budget hardcore porn videos. When in a drunken stupor, I heard her revealing to Olivia, how many BJ's she delivered, and how many casting couch fucks she performed. As well as her proudest moment, a big names star she banged. Yet, she never landed one real part, just low budget fuck flicks.

"Oh Cam!" She purrs, ready to strike. Wow! She may as well not have a bikini on, everything is showing. "You handsome devil," comes seductively from the Secretary of the HOA. "Let me join you." Her bikini top and bottom are discarded as she enters. "Ooh! This will be fun!" She flitters in close, wearing an I-will-ravish-you look.

Cam visibly tenses, shrinks into the corner, giving the conniving cougar plenty of room. However, the sauna is a small two seater. Intimacy is guaranteed. And Bubbles silicon breasts are right there for Cam's enjoyment. He sweats profusely — not from the sauna. "I, I was just leaving." He begins to rise, but those bountiful breasts block any escape.

"Relax! Enjoy the view!" Bubbles said sweetly as she begins to pinch her nipples turning them into pink volcanos. She stares directly into Cam's eyes, and lets out a series of long intense porn-actress moans.

Cam swallows hard. His face overflows with red alert distress. "Ah, ah."

She cuttles in even closer. "Cam, you and I need to talk." She lays a hand on his knee. "Now before we get to know each other a little better." She leans over and murmurs mischievously in his ear, "Well, a lot better." Her hand slides up his thigh. "How do you feel about the upcoming vote?"

"What, what do you mean?"

"Well, big boy! How are you going to pay for it? Are you worried? I was talking to Larry..."

"I'll be fine," replies the much younger nervous fellow.

"Really! But how?" She touches him on the cheek. "Is it true. That you are selling illegal substances? Oh come on, you can tell Bubbles. We're gonna be real close." She squeezes his massive thigh — next squeeze will be his tool.

Cam shakes his head.

"Oh! Come on! Just between you and me Sweetie!"

"No Bubbles!"

"Well, you sure toke a lot. Is that legal?"

"Have a medical certificate making it legal? I have to go!" Cam begins to rise again.

Bubbles grasps his hand. "You're not going anywhere." She kisses him on the cheek. "Wish we had a line. It makes fucking unreal!"

He pushes her hand away. She assumes a sulking expression. "Don't you want me?"

Cam shakes his head. "Sorry!"

She flares her nostrils, juts out her chin and ample bosom. "Listen Cam!" Her face is consumed in a horrid fierce look. "If you don't stay and play, I will start yelling rape."

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! I make a major fuss. So major that Bucky walking past hears and hurries to my side. Bubbles levels a scathing look at Bucky and myself. She has no time to manufacture any further trouble for there is now a human witness. Fortunately, Cam utilizes my distraction to escape that sauna without any of Bubbles scratch marks. And I snatch up her bikini top and bottom. I will run and hide them quickly, leaving a frustrated Bubbles to make her way home naked.

Cam pets me, wipes his brow. His tight muscles contract as he relaxes. "You two saved me in more ways then one."

An hour later I spot President Bill and Vice President Whitney over on our lavish putting green. I am not allowed to walk on the plush grass. So, I do not. Except, late one night, just to spice it up, I waltzed my spicy chihuahua date on to the green, and made some sweet screaming sex magic. I ensured I sunk it in all the difficult holes.

I stretch out on the fringe, listening to the two executives.

"Our cleaning company wants to hike their rates," states Bill.

"Well, they do a wonderful job," replies Whitney. "And they do a champion job of cleaning each of our condos as a throw in."

He smirks. "Perks for being on the HOA executive." I have my suspicions that the President forces other perks out of the workers. For he schedules the obliging Columbian cleaning lady and the save-the-world hot young Swedish gardener on separate days — in order to have long private conversations with them. Sure Bill! This dog can smell sneak-around President screwing a mile away.

"You and I deserve the perks!"

Bill putts the ball, misses horribly. "Estimates are in. An additional 2 million dollars for your upgrades."

"Money well spent! Remember, if some can't afford it. Then they don't belong."

"Very true!" Bill attempts another putt, misses by even more. "And all money must be collected, and in our bank account one week after the approval is granted."

"That's quick!"

"We as an executive have the right to determine payment timing," Bill said firmly. "One of those small never read clauses. But we won't reveal that plan until after the vote is approved."

"Sure! Sure! That's more your area of expertise. I think we're ready for the meeting." She sniggers. "Some vote-assuring to do yet, if you know what I mean. But the wine club has ample time to work our magic."

"Okay, but, you know there will be Anna's proposal."

"I think we handled that Russian tart rather well when she gave us her initial pitch."

He grins evilly. "She'll be dealt with accordingly when we get to the meeting."

"Great we are on the same page. Got to go. Must eat my delectable croissant I left at the pool." Whitney drops her putter and struts off in a lofty manner. Go ahead honey, enjoy that delicious croissant that I smothered in a big old doggy lick a few minutes ago. And right after giving my privates a thrilling tongue washing.

Bill continues to putt. He looks over at me, enjoys a long mischievous laugh. "Great my estimates are never questioned!"

Finally, the long awaited moment rolls around. I am off-the-charts excited about Anna and Cam's afternoon surfing date. Clouds have vanished. We have a sun-drenched postcard paradise day. I tag along to ensure that this human mating game proceeds as it should. I am not sure Cam slept last night. The tense surfer stammers and sputters in the initial stages. However, I play the goof, and lighten up the mood. Anna also possesses some kind of charm skills. Her delightful disposition takes the edge off Cam as well.

"This has been so much fun," Anna exclaims as we all take a break, sprawling out on the warm sandy beach. The waves pound in filling the air with that soothing relaxing sound. This sets up perfectly for more of my match making.

I nudge Cam, point my nose at Anna. Woof! That means time to complement the lady.

"You did great Anna!"

"Thank you Cam," Anna touches him on the hand. "I think it was your instructions."

Woof! I remind her of my part.

She rubs me on the head. "And we can't forget your role out there."

He clears his voice. "Ah! well Anna. Would you like to..."

The slender lovely gifts a glowing smile, Touches Cam on the hand again, holding that meaningful contact for an extra second, and said enthusiastically. "I would love to go out for lunch with you. Just pick a day!"

I am on cloud nine. I do a dance in the sand, sending the two young folks to laughing hysterically.

We make our way back to Peach Palace. At the front door I stand back, giving the want-to-be couple some privacy.

Anna leans over and kisses Cam on the cheek. "Can't wait for our lunch date!"

Who do I see witnessing the kissing event? It is quite a group scattered in various locations: a jealous Larry — a fuming Bubbles — a leering Chuck — a snarling Olivia — a smirking Bill — and a clued out Mrs. Winkles.

I walk up to Anna's condo with her. We plunk ourselves on the couch. I see an urgent text that shows up on her cell from Sergey. "No more Cam! Or Else!"

Two hours later I watch the selfie sisters. The lazy Bubbles and awkward Whitney attempt to lob the tennis ball back and forth casually. Once again, a condom lays on the court. I am surprised one of the ladies has not seen it. Time for me to perform my HOA warning trick again. I think I will hit Mrs. Winkles just for fun. For who would want to screw a whacked-out bag of bones such as that?

These two so called tennis players are not exerting themselves at all. Sometimes, I think these two parade out more to be seen playing tennis, then actually wanting to play tennis. They are quite the sight, both wiggling around the court in their short ultra-tight outfits. These two have not broken a sweat. They spend more time looking around to see who is watching them, then stroking that ball. Oh and let us not forget the dozens of pics they snap. And the dozens of items they find to complain about.

"Those annoying cats!" Whitney bitches. "First, they sabotage my monthly opera event. Now they destroy the lovely peonies we had the gardeners plant."

"Oh no! I loved those!"

And that is why I purposely did a highland fling with a hardy Scottish terrier, making your pretty flowers into pulp. This is war ladies, so get use to it!

"I could kill those cats," Whitney said as she slams her racket on the ground. At least she can hit the ground, cause that ball sure is not seeing much action.

"Time for a cocktail," Bubbles declares as she wipes her brow with her fancy pink tennis towel.

"Yes, darling!" The VP stops and drops her racket. "Time for refreshments." I swear Whitney thinks she is at a country club. When she is done utilizing any item whether golf club, tennis racket, towel, or whatever. She drops it, as if Peach Palace has staff to attend to it. We do not. She carries on, "And we must have a gala event to celebrate the upcoming victorious vote."

"For sure!"

"Something tasteful." Whitney lifts her chin. "Something elegant, something expensive."

"For the entire complex?"

"Oh yes, must include the peasants as well," Whitney said with a smug tone. "However, you and I will organize. Not Olivia, if you know what I mean."

The selfie sisters share a conspiratorial chuckle. Bubbles then flashes a sly smile as she inquires, "How do you think Bill and Olivia are getting on?"

The VP tosses her towel to the ground. "Oh splendidly, I'm sure!"

"That Olivia has a mean streak," remarks the former porn actress. "I've known some jealous wives in my time." The blonde bats her lashes, and giggles in that knowing manner. "But I could see her being nasty."

Whitney raises an eye brow in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Bubbles sniggers. "Means watch your back!"

Whitney's eyes widen. "Must, must take a rain check on the cocktail. Must go!" She heads off with an awkward nervous walk in her step, waving as she departs. "Ta-Ta!"

Bubbles stands there thinking hard, turns to me, gazes at me ironically. "I wonder if she's banging horny Bill too?" She winks at me. "I bet her husband doesn't know about it like mine." She flings her towel away with a cocky grin. "But what choice does Chuck have?"

It is 11:00 PM on a never-ending Thursday. I am returning back from a spicy session with a promiscuous pug. Well, she became a lot more promiscuous after we lapped up a dish of Bud at the Sand Pile. I smell smoke so I race to the parkade where the smoke leads me. At the same time, Jose enters the parkade returning from his regular PTA meeting which like clock work ends the same time every month.

He steps out of his car. "Hey buddy! What's that smell?"

Suddenly, the automatic fire alarm sounds. We follow the trail to the storage area. We open the door, peek in to that storage area, choking on the smoke. Smoke billows out from one of the empty lockers at the far end of the storage area. Jose steps in to take a closer look and yells, "Let me get the fire extinguisher!"

Olivia and Mrs. Winkles burst into the parkade. They spot Jose exiting the storage area. Olivia snaps a head shot, clearly nailing down the time, and making sure they can fill in the rest of the pic with what ever they want.

Right then, the sprinkler system activates, soaking Jose and myself. Olivia dials on her phone and shouts, "Jose, you did this! I'm calling the police."

Twenty minutes later emergency response people of all shapes and sizes invade the complex. The small fire is out. Police are questioning an eye-twitching Jose. I scamper to the front of the building where all the residence congregate after the alarm sounded.

I spot Anna standing off to the side, conversing on her phone. I prance up to her, and lick her shoe to give her support for I can sense her incredible unease.

"As I told you yesterday Sergey. I ran your low number by Bill and Whitney. They laughed at me. They will fight it every step of the way."

Anna tightens her lips. I hear a long loud chuckle from Sergey. Then some muffled words in Russian.

Anna lets out a mournful cry. She grimaces, clenches her fist and then shouts, "You bastard! You took a finger already!"

SIX

A bright sunny friday afternoon, and I know where the wine club laze about. It is time to listen in on another one of their scheming sessions. Three days to the monumental vote— how much progress have the wine witches made? So, off to the hot tub I venture.

Of course, Olivia holds court sitting on her throne. Right next to her, Mrs. Winkles massages her own pussy periodically. While Bubbles and Whitney enjoy the soothing hot water with phones in hand.

All wine glasses are full, three empty bottles lay scattered about. One is broken. Dangerous sharp glass gleaming in the sun. Since President Bill will never slap these rule breakers with a fine. I take matters into my own paws. When Olivia slips to the washroom, unnoticed by the other drunks, I sample a few laps of her wine. Yuk! I am a beer dog through and through. Then I tinkle a few squirts in her wine glass to mix with what was there.

The Queen returns fresh and ready to inhale more vino. "The plan is unfolding well." She savours a satisfying slurp of urine-enhanced wine. "Going very well." She smacks her lips, partakes in another gulp. "Oh my, this wine has a delightful tingle to it!"

Glad you enjoy my offering Olivia — for the next time I will drop a dog turd in your food to flavour it up a bit.

"Yeah, things are going okay." Bubbles sighs. "Except for a couple of incidents."

Olivia scratches a bandage on her arm. And that gift is thanks to my quick doggy thinking. "Minor set back. But we scored big last night. We have Jose over a barrel."

"Wish that broad-shouldered Latino lover would put me over a barrel," Bubbles utilizes a fake British accent and snickers. "Ooh, then give me a right proper spanking!" She groans longingly. "And then a right proper shagging with that huge cock! Multiple times!"

A few seconds pass as sighs of hot desire filter out from all the ladies. For they each flush and reek of lust when imagining that erotic event, and Jose's massive member.

Olivia coughs, breaking the individual fornication fantasies. "Focus wenches!" She smiles like the cat that swallowed one huge bird. "The police have not taken our statements yet. We'll embellish, if the Hernandez's don't get on side. Don't think that hunky Principal can afford an arson charge." Mrs. Winkles nods in agreement while wine dribbles from her mouth.

Bubbles chugs from her aquarium sized wine glass. She assumes a lustful grin. "Excellent! Next time we're in the hot tub, he can't afford to run from these." She juts out her mammoth mammies.

Whitney rolls her aristocratic eyes. "Is that all you think of?"

"Besides this!" Bubbles grabs a bottle and fills her glass. "What else is there?"

"Well, Bubbles!" Whitney sniffs in derision. "There is bringing some needed elegance into Peach Palace. I'm contemplating adding more items to the list of upgrades."

Bubbles flashes the VP an inquisitive glance. "Like what?"

Whitney drains her glass. "Well, Bubbles darling, for starters, some rather expensive antique furniture for the front entrance. New oak table and leather chairs for the conference room. And one more thing, we must have brass handles and door knockers installed on every door in the place."

"Oh goody!" Bubbles jumps up and down in the hot tub spilling her wine. "So exciting!"

"Sounds great!" Olivia agrees. "How much?"

"Doesn't matter." Whitney waves her hand in a dismissive manner. "It's the fact, we'll be stepping up in life."

"Oh yeah!" Bubbles shouts. "Let's get it all now!"

"Good point!" Whitney rubs her pointy chin, and thinks for a moment. "There are more items, but..."

"Let's go for it!" Bubbles encourages.

Whitney strikes a determined pose. "Okay! I want all the windows in the entrance replaced with stain glass imported from Italy. And that front door must go. Additional fountains and sculptures at the pool. We simply must renovate that common room. Having a dog in there." Up turns her pretentious nose.

Err! That is my fuck you growl.

"Another touch of class we could entertain," Whitney continues. "Turn that tacky games room into a sophisticated bridge parlour."

Olivia's hairy eyebrow rises in surprise. "But none of us play bridge."

"Who cares?" Bubbles exclaims. "Let's do it! Anything else Whitney?"

"And finally, I want Peach Palace to have a top of the line wine cellar constructed."

"Let's do that too!" Bubbles squeals with delight. All the wine gang join in, cheering long and loud.

"All right!" The VP utilizes her pink phone to text President Bill the additional items. "Now we'll be able to look down on our Sandy Tower neighbours."

"Sandy Towers Losers," Bubbles makes a disgusted face as she stares at her phone. "Think their somebody cause of their fancy Facebook page. I don't like them, and myself when I view their cool pics."

"All jerks!" Olivia rages. "I hate them all over there! Wish someone would burn their building down."

"Or destroy their social media presence," Bubbles adds.

"That does it!" Whitney declares. I'm going to push our HOA executive to spend money on a professional campaign to improve Peach Palace's social media image.

"Yes!" Bubbles shrieks. "And I'll be the star of the campaign."

Whitney winces. "Back to our plan. Where are we at?"

"Well, the good Reverend is taken care of," shares Bubbles. I overheard that conversation where the Secretary of the HOA alluded to knowing about Trisha playing horsey with Reverend Wallis. The good Reverend gasped and clutched his Bible while the blackmail chat occurred.

"Bucky is seeing things clearly," boasts Olivia.

"I attempted to work over Cam," admits Bubbles. "But it was as if I was way off the mark."

"What do you mean?" Whitney asks.

A confused look fills the Secretary's face. "Maybe he isn't a drug dealer."

Olivia strikes the chair violently. "Has to be! How can he afford to live here?" Bubbles shrugs her shoulders. Olivia scrunches up her inflamed face."I have to know."

"Yes, we do need to know," Bubbles concurs. "Who else do we need to screw?"

"I will do everything to thwart Anna," Whitney promises.

Olivia tosses her lit cigarette on the grass. "I'll help you crush that skinny bitch."

Whitney tops off everyones wine glasses. "Well, I took care of Nancy Wong. Informed her I was concerned about her legal status to remain in this country. She was so scared. I had her right at that moment."

"And I let Mr. Draper in 209 know that I hope he is square with the IRS, since he runs that shady import/export business down the street." Olivia cackles evilly. "We now have an understanding."

"And let's just say that hunk in 402 is definitely voting our way." Bubbles giggles and adjusts her bikini top.

"Our friend Larry took no convincing." Olivia sniggers. "He was just worried about his friend, Cam."

"Now there's a surprise," Bubbles said sarcastically.

"His only concern was how soon him and Cam would have to pay up." Olivia takes a gulp and belches. "And was so excited when I informed him it would be promptly."

"That Larry is a sneaky one." Bubbles smirks. "But as long as he votes our way, I don't care."

Olivia raises her glass in the air. "To us! The wine club strikes again." The ladies all laugh and drain their glasses.

Saturday evening Cam treats me to a late evening walk. We proceed down to the beach,

enjoy the smell of the fresh salt air, bask in the warm evening breeze, and plunk ourselves down on the soft silky sand.

"My lunch date with Anna went great," Cam admits excitedly. "She is fantastic!"

Woof! I re-enforce his Anna point.

"I confessed my little problem." Cam rubs my head. "Told her the Doc said I'll be fine," he sucks in a breath. "Just have to give it time to heel. That rogue board hit me right in the crotch."

Yip! I bury my head in his shirt.

"I know! Us guys, cringe at the thought."

Woof! Not me I bark out, I am too much the dog to be taken down by a surf board.

"Nothing would slow a stud like you." Cam chuckles. "But I'm worried. Anna seemed on edge about something."

Suddenly, four heavy set thugs dressed in cheap baggy suits surround us. They move in fast. Three of the muscle heads pin Cam to the ground. Cam gives them one hell of a ride, but he cannot break free.

Err! Err! I step into the fracas. A scar-faced creep smacks me with a baseball bat, sending my body hurling, and every fibre to hurting. I am dazed and confused. I wobble and weave, attempt to come back with a sickly snarl.

The baseball goon kicks sand in Cam's face and utters in a Russian accent, "Stay away from Anna!" I try one last time to defend Cam. My woozy efforts are pitiful. They proceed to beat the crap out of him. And I mean bone breaking, blood spilling crap.

Later that evening I limp and shuffle to Anna's condo — everything hurts. I scratch on the door. Even the simple act of scratching sends shock waves through my body. It takes a couple minutes by the time she unlocks her numerous deadbolts and chains. She scoops me up. She has been crying, Clearly disconcerted. For the slim beauty hugs me for all she is worth. I whine and whimper. Please do not hug too tight, for these doggy ribs are fragile.

"Oh my friend. Sergey sent me an ugly pic. How is Cam?"

Woof! I give her the okay bark. He is badly bruised with a broken arm and two broken ribs. But thank goodness he is alive.

"I'm so scared to go see him." She shivers. "Someone is telling Sergey my every move." She releases a river of tears and blubbers, "And I don't want to cause Cam any more trouble."

Her cell rings. She puts it on speaker. That same Russian accent flows threw. "Anna, I will not be so gentle the next time."

"Sergey, you cannot do that to my friend."

"I own you! You cannot refuse me any longer."

"I will not marry you Sergey! Never! You're over forty years older than me."

His creepy chortle scares me to the bone. "I am tired of this game. If there is no deal for me to purchase Peach Palace at the next meeting, another finger!" A long eery pause unfolds. "And you will finally marry me."

A quiet Sunday morning, the day before the vote, and I decide to slip around to the swimming pool. I'm not allowed in that sparkling blue pool. However, I have broken that rule a few times. Like the late night skinny dip with a sophisticated french poodle. That snooty coquet and I sure spoke the language of love that memorable night. Oh, and how that pretentious poodle turned into a horny alley mongrel when my seduction charms kicked into high gear.

There is that conniving cat, Claws. Bill and Olivia's pain-in-the-ass pet stands at the edge of the pool, concentrating intensely on a shiny floating object. This is unusual, for this feline is seldom caught off guard. Yeah, Claws is one uptight cat. I know some large vicious dogs in the neighbourhood who would love to catch this ultra-mean puss in this vulnerable position, and eat this pussy. And I do not mean in the sexual sense. However, I will merely play a juvenile prank.

Woof! Woof! Woof! The unexpected scary barks results in a four foot vertical jump for Claws, and a downward plunge into the unaccustomed water. I have not seen that much panic radiating from this pussy before. But she somehow makes it to the edge. I thought cats could not swim. Claws drags herself out of the water, hisses at me, and shuffles off with her wet tail between her legs.

Here struts a black speedo wearing Bill and a teeny-weeny bikini wearing Bubbles. Bubbles can pull off that outfit. But Bill and his bulge are gross. I swear the old-timers, Bill and Chuck, have a competition underway to determine who can gross out more folks with their tight show-it-all speedos.

The two touch and flirt as they make their way to the pool. Bill claims a luxurious lounge chair, Bubbles sprawls out on a large floating mattress. The Sergeants' eyes pop out of their sockets as Bubbles whips her top off, letting the world inhale her greatest artificially enhanced assets.

"Whitney has played into our hands," Bubbles laughs and splashes in the water.

"Certainly has! Every item was added to the list. An extra 500,000 bringing her total cost to 2.5 million dollars for her attempt at buying status."

"What a fool!" Bubbles sticks out her silver dollar sized nipples. She licks her lips. "How about you join me? Lots of room here." She touches her barely hidden pussy teasingly. "You would enjoy a quick dip in Bubbles."

"Right here?"

She blows him a kiss. "Why not?" She rubs her thighs gently, slips off her bikini bottom. "Makes it that much more exciting." The two do not notice as I snatch up that bikini again, planning to leave Bubbles with another embarrassing naked walk when she finishes her seduction show. Although I ponder just how embarrassed Bubbles truly is — in fact, I think she loves the attention.

Bill peers around to see if anyone is watching. However, he does not notice Chuck observing the sight. "I, I haven't taken my blue pill."

"Maybe I can get your engine fired up without." She makes a sucking motion with her injected red lips.

Bill blushes. "Ah, well, I need my pill." He is right about that. For I have labelled him Blue Bill as I often spot the man popping a penis perk up pill.

She commences to make light circles around each of her swelling breasts. "I know how much you like my girls." She winks and said huskily, "And how much you like to suck on them." She grasps her plump oversized tits roughly. "And how you love to rub your big cock between them!"

Bill swallows hard. "Sure do."

Bubbles arches her back, spreads her legs and displays her sex. "Oh come on Bill. Fuck me right here." She begins to massage her vagina slowly at first. Her face illuminates with lust as she proceeds. "Woe! I'm getting so hot!"

Bill's face turns a bright scarlet. He clutches for his crotch.

"I love the way you fuck me!" Bubbles increases the pace, working herself more frantically. "Oh yeah!" She finds her clitoris, masterfully building up the tension. She utilizes the other hand to move back up to circle and pinch her stirring nips, moaning and groaning. Those massive mouth-watering red nipples quickly stand to attention. "I want your man shaft! Not like my husband's. It's probably no bigger than Snowflake's over there!"

Err! That was my low fuck you growl with your bikini clenched between my teeth. And I bet my pecker is bigger than Chuck's. For I have unfortunately seen his tiny tool before.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride the Bubbles express?"

"I'll pass this time."

"Then capture it," she orders. He begins filming: Bubbles does herself — act one.

She then slides two fingers in and works herself fast and furious. "Oo, Bill! I love the way you drool over me!"

He sucks in a breath. "I do enjoy this Bubbles show."

She fingers herself to the brink, face floods with that pre-orgasmic look, feverishly works herself over the top, and lets fly with a shrill scream.

Bill wipes his brow. "Wow! Quite a production!"

Chuck grumbles very quietly, anger forming on his face. I hear a low growl emanating from his throat as the rage increases.

Bubbles pants and puffs, finally regaining her breath and asks with a huge satisfying smirk, "Have you ever told your wife about..."

Bill laughs long and hard. "She is not the push over your husband is."

With a bikini in my possession, I follow a scarlet-faced frustrated Chuck around the side of the building. I feel a bit sorry for the goof, as the weak soul has been humiliated by his wife again. Last night, I spied through their window one of the weirdest sex games. Bubbles leading Chuck around on a dog leash. I have never worn one of those tools of canine oppression. To make matters worse, he was panting, barking and sniffing her ass.

Chuck edges along an obscure path lined with a number of leafy trees and thick shrubs, arriving at the front of Peach Palace. The way Chuck creeps through the underbrush, I get the distinct feeling that he utilizes this secret path often. Of course, as I follow he scratches his ass thoroughly. And they complain when I pleasure myself. They should watch this Chuck scratch fest while sporting his red speedo. It would make any civilized human or dog's stomach churn.

We come upon Queen Olivia. She sits smugly on her bench. Her back is towards us, she does not realize we are there skulking in the foliage. She proudly puffs on her cigarette like royalty surveying her kingdom. The Queen strains her ears to detect any scandalous info. For the bench is positioned in such a manner that if condo windows are open, the sound filters down to her prying ears.

Last year, when attempting to pick up some juicy gossip from one of the windows, she fell off this very bench. She leaned over much too far, teetered for that second, and took a tumble down the front steps. Off to the hospital she was rushed. The gossip game can be a rough one.

So, Chuck squats down quietly to listen to Olivia, who sits there listening to others. And I listen to all the nosy humans. Does that make me a nosy dog?

Olivia's cell rings. She snatches it up and growls, "What is it?" She proceeds to have an intense conversation. I can see the back of her neck inflaming, her odour becomes more aggressive. "I disagree!" A second passes as her breathing becomes heavy, her anger intensifies. "You are an incompetent brother!" She ends the call, and takes a drag from her smoke.

Chuck walks over to Olivia, firmly places his hand on her boiling neck, startling her. "Queen Olivia, its time for you and I to talk."

SEVEN

The tension in the air on this Monday evening feels off the charts. All 50 owners pack into the conference room. Standing room only, lucky I arrived early enabling me to hide in the corner. Excruciatingly hot in here already — when this doggy overheats he heads to the Sand Pile. But I will not miss this human circus for anything.

There are important items to address. Each effect the other. First, we will hear the proposal for the outright sale of the building. Obviously, if Anna can blow the owners away, the restoration vote will not be taken. Other avenues were investigated, however, only Anna's proposal has been brought forward.

The second item is the big restoration vote. The HOA executive has lumped all money into one. I sense the confidence exuding from the executive team — figuring they have the vote locked down. The project demands a total of 7.5 million — The 5.0 million to repair the earth quake damage, plus the 2.5 million for Whitney's upgrades. By combining the two projects into one — each condo owner will owe $150,000.

Bill in a sharply pressed uniform opens the meeting. A low-top wearing Bubbles squishes right up against the President. How can he think with those breasts right there, touching him teasingly, being offered up? How can he not notice Chuck's murderess look?

"We have a proposal, comes from Anna Romanov. Whitney and myself have reviewed the offer. We are 100% opposed to this option."

"Absolutely!" Whitney confirms the President's statement.

"The floor is yours Anna," Bill snaps. "Make it quick!"

Anna appears beat before she speaks. I do not think she slept a wink last night. Her voice quivers and cracks. "I, I represent an organization."

"Speak up!" Larry yells. "Can't hear you." I know he can hear Anna as he sits right next to the Realtor. However, this is clearly a distraction tactic.

Anna's lips tremble. She stares into space for a second, refocuses and continues with determination in her voice, "Sorry! The organization I represent has offered us a generous amount considering the circumstances." Anna proceeds to lay out the benefits of the offer in a most professional manner. I am impressed. She is extremely polished, once she overcame her initial nervousness. I peek over at a bruised and bandaged Cam with his arm in a sling, catching a smile of pride on his face.

Anna flashes a dollar amount on the big screen. "A detailed market analysis indicates this is more then reasonable."

Bubbles waves her hand in disgust. "This offer is a joke!"

Her husband Chuck shakes his head in confusion. " Considering what Anna has indicated. It is not bad."

"Shut up Chuck!" Bubbles scolds. "We are not voting for this proposal."

"But honey!" Chuck pleads.

Bill laughs in a condescending manner. "Chuck, not your area of expertise."

"And what's yours?" Chuck snarls.

The two men glare at each other for a long moment. I can smell the testosterone in the air. Chuck clenches his fleshy fist. Is he going to take a swing at the President? Bill touches the metals on his uniform, speaks in his intimidating sergeant voice, "You have something to say?"

It seems like an eternity, but finally the red speedo wearing Chuck lowers his eyes in defeat. "I just thought maybe..."

"I do the thinking for us." Bubbles points her finger at her husband. "So just shut the fuck up!"

"But..." Chuck whispers.

Quiet groans of disgust from a few in the crowd. Disgust at Bubbles for how she abuses her husband — disgust at Chuck for allowing it. And an extra helping of disgust for Chuck supporting a microscopic speedo in a meeting.

Bubbles smacks the table. "I'll decide how we vote." Chuck drops his head to his chest in total surrender. She fires one more shot, "So glad I kept my stage name. I'm embarrassed to be married to a pussy like you." Olivia lets out a mocking chuckle directed at the pussy-whipped man. Not just pussy whipped, but leather whipped. For one night I viewed through their window, Bubbles delivering the lash to her husband. And he was begging for more.

It appears as if others have been beaten as well. Many of the regular owners who would speak up are being unusually quiet. I look at Vanessa who nervously bites her lip. Jose who hangs his head. Bucky stares straight ahead as if in a daze, Larry keeps smiling at Cam. A few have their head down in shame. And many are deep in thought.

Whitney elevates her chin in a condescending manner. "Well, people, I think it is time for the vote on Anna's proposal." She snorts. "Her rather poor proposal!"

"Yes, This is too low an offer," Olivia agrees. "I would rather do the restoration and upgrades. And many of you need to realize, it is in your best interest to agree with me." Woe! Could you be any more obvious that the wine club have squeezed a few votes?

There is limited discussion. Some spiritless comments for and against. The room becomes silent.

"Let's get to the vote," Bill orders as he hammers the table. "Whitney hand out the ballots. Majority wins."

The voting process commences. Many votes cast with tense bodies, noticeable apprehension weighing on faces, and three of the married couples are not speaking to each other. Chuck wears a whipped puppy look, but deep down I sense a deep seething inside the man, a definite revenge stirring.

Process complete, Bill rises, utilizes his satisfied tone, "The proposal to purchase by Anna has not been approved by a vote of 31 votes against, 19 votes for."

Bubbles pumps her fist. "Go suck it Anna!"

A sigh of relief from the crowd with some murmurs of disappointment. Cam reaches over and takes Anna's hand. The colour drains from her face, a tear slides down her cheek.

"On to the real vote," commands Bill. "Hand out the ballots."

Again, there is limited discussion. The more vocal group are extremely quiet.

"Enough talk!" Bill grunts. "Let's move to the vote to approve the 7.5 million restoration and upgrade project."

The vote unfolds. Sweat pours from many. I have never experienced this degree of human anxiety in one room. Votes are counted, results handed to Bill.

"With 26 votes for, and 24 votes against, the 7.5 million dollar restoration and upgrade project has passed," Bill executes a double fist pump. "Excellent decision group!"

The wine club cheer, clap and high five each other. The selfie sisters are celebrating with one hand, capturing the momentous event with the other hand.

Whitney rises, gazes down on the crowd, and addresses them in a pompous manner, "We are moving up people!"

Bill barks out another order, "All money must be paid in full within one week of today."

"What?" Bucky roars.

"You can't do that!" Anna protests with other objections ringing out from the room.

"Our executive authorized it in an earlier meeting today." Bill pounds the table. "Within our power. There will be a meeting next Monday." He smirks. "Any one not having paid, we will take immediate legal action to put a lien against your property. And a 2% interest charge will occur for each month." The crowd gasps, murmurs of concern.

"Come on people!" Whitney said sardonically, "Anyone who is anyone, can find the necessary funds."

"Let's get this restoration going," yells Bubbles as she does a slutty shimmy for the room with Bill sliding his hand up her skirt in celebration.

Vanessa sighs in surrender, slumps in her chair and sheds a tear. A wild eye-quivering Jose consoles his wife. A caring Reverend Wallis walks over to check in on Trisha. A put-in-his-place Chuck plays footsie with Mrs. Wong. Poor Anna cries uncontrollably. Cam holds Anna's hand. While a concerned and jealous Larry leans over and places a comforting hand on Cam's shoulder.

Immediately after the meeting breaks up, I follow the wine club. They mambo their raucous celebration to the hot tub. They decided their victory celebration would be a private event after all. The four ladies assume their regular positions in or out of the steaming swirling water, each drinking from a mega sized bottle of wine. The first twenty minutes are spent consuming the vino as if it is their last. Wow! Can they guzzle any faster? They do enjoy high fives, fist pumps, and pass gas. I feel as if I am in a locker room.

"We showed those losers," slurs Bubbles. "Let the good times roll!"

"Finally, we are Newport sophisticates," Whitney toasts the sky with an exaggerated grand gesture. "No more Huntington Beach scum."

"And we did it," Olivia brags. "If we'd have left it to the men, not a chance."

"Bill was a big, big part of it!" Bubbles sings the praises of the President.

"Bill is my pawn," Queen Olivia holds her nose in the air. "He's nothing without me."

Bubbles scowls at the Queen. "Are you the one who left the HOA Presidential warning slip along with a used condom at my door?" She splashes water at Olivia. "Is that part of your Queen duties?"

Mrs. Winkles halts rubbing herself in the crotch. Her lips twist awkwardly. She spits at Olivia in disgust. For the cat lover has had her passion present delivered by myself as well.

"Those germ invested condoms were terribly disgusting!" Whitney declares in a hoity-toity tone.

Now the condom drop-offs is my low down doggy work. However, Olivia does not automatically deny her involvement in those deliveries.

"Call me Queen Olivia! If I order Bill to jump, he jumps!" She states smugly. "He's just a simple minded pawn." She huffs. "Who can't stop picking his nose when he's nervous."

A drunk, demented and incoherent Mrs. Winkles rages wildly. She screams and shakes her fist at Olivia.

I take this opportunity to slip up behind the inebriated Bubbles. Woof! Woof! I deliver a mega big dog bark, scaring her silly, sending her cell to the bottom of the hot tub.

Eardrum shattering screams from Bubbles fill the night. Those shrill screams from Bubbles launch an unbent Mrs. Winkles after Olivia who sits on her throne, knocking her to the ground, sending punches and kicks at the Queen of Peach Palace.

I flee the slobbering fools and their fight. For I have had enough of craziness for one night. I slip up to the Hernandez's condo. They sit sombrely around the table, picking at their late-night dinner. I feel for these two caring people. Jose has aged a couple of years since the threat of blackmail by Olivia.

"I never imagined I'd cave in," admits the Principal with his out-of-control trembling eye working overtime.

"What could we do?" Vanessa grasps his hand comfortingly. "They would have ruined you."

Jose receives an email from Anna. "Just found this on my car security."

He opens up the attached video, begins to watch. "Wow! Look at this."

She peers over. "What?"

"Look at the time stamp. It was the night of the fire." He leans in closer. "It's from a car security camera. Funny angle! But it shows what really happened."

"They can't blackmail us," Vanessa stands excitedly, embracing her man.

"Thank you Anna!" A none-twitching Jose turns to Vanessa and smiles. "And maybe it is time to go on the offensive."

Late that night, I am sleeping soundly on the forbidden leather couch in the common room. I am startled awake by this horrible waling from the third floor. I scamper up there to find two emergency response workers wheeling a stretcher. On that stretcher lay a bloody Chuck in his signature speedo.

"No, No, Chuck." A drunk Bubbles babbles with Olivia attempting to calm her down. "Why? Oh Why?"

A Police Officer shakes his head. "Don't know Ma'am. But we'll do our best to catch his killer."

What an exhausting night? I finally returned to sleep after the murder episode. I was so upset, I paced the grounds for a couple of hours after. The blood pouring from Chuck's knife wounds gave me doggy nightmares.

Early the next morning, I am finally back sleeping soundly on the leather couch in the common room. Cam nudges me. "Wake up Prince." When my eyes open I see the bruised face.

"Up we go my friend," he whispers. "We are going to pay a visit to Anna." He scoops me up, winces, for my buddy's pain fills his face. He carries me to Anna's condo.

"At this hour, it's much less likely we will be seen. And you can be like a watch dog, listening for anyone coming."

I perk up my ears. I can do that. I can hear someone coming well before a human. Except that day on the beach when those thugs snuck up on us. Oh yeah! And that one time Queen Olivia caught me with a kick when I was sleeping. Both direct hits were due to my earlier visits to the Sand Pile and my Bud dish. Beer puts me off my game. No more! Between that baseball bat and the Queen's kick, both shots rippled right threw my body, rattling every bone. From now on, I am one sober red-alert canine. Well, at least until this condo crisis passes.

Tap! Tap ! Tap! Multiple locks are turned, chains undone. Anna opens the door. She was expecting us. She hugs both of us. It is clear she has not slept a wink. We settle in on the couch.

"Okay Anna. I want the entire story. What is going on?"

Anna shakes her head. "I can't tell."

"Yes, you can. You are obviously involved with some kind of..."

She cringes and utilizes a stern tone, "You must not see me again. Or they will kill you."

"Why?"

"I can't..."

Cam takes her hand. "I really like you."

She pulls her hand away tentatively. "Forget about me!"

"I'll forget about you, if you want me to." He turns to her, and gazes into her eyes. "But, if you have feelings for me, then no way."

Woof! It is so apparent that Anna hungers for Cam. Her eyes do not lie.

She looks down. "I've had a thing for you for quite a while. But..."

Cam smiles. "All I needed to hear. So, let's hear the story, and let's fix it."

Woof! And that bark means spit it out Anna.

She sucks in her breath. "Okay. Okay. My father accumulated a half million dollar gambling debt back in Russia. He owes that debt to Sergey."

"Who is Sergey?"

"Organized crime. He runs a local Orange County operation for a dangerous Moscow syndicate. The one my father owes the money to."

"Bring in the police."

"They know where my father lives. They have already taken two of his fingers." She moans sorrowfully. "I have managed to pay the interest, but nothing of the half million he owes."

"How much have you paid?"

She lets out a tormented groan. "I've paid two hundred grand. All interest." She slumps into the couch. "And now I need $150,000 to keep this condo."

"Wow!" Cam rubs his chin. "Have you heard of S.U? It is an App."

She shakes her head.

"It just sold to a conglomerate of banks for 300 million dollars."

Where is this going? What has this surfer got to do with that?

"I built that App. I am filthy rich. But let's keep that between us three for now."

Woof! You bet, my rich friend.

He reaches over gently, taking Anna's hand again. "I have the money to fix your problem."

"I am happy for you Cam. But I can't take your money."

"Oh, yes you will." He leans over and kisses her. "Cause I've been in love with you for months."

This time Anna pulls her hand away abruptly as if she has been scalded. She rests her head on the couch, inhales a long breath and said harshly, "Please leave!"

EIGHT

Tk.Tk.Tk.Tk. Wednesday evening my noisy nails speed down the tiled front entrance of Peach Palace when a drunk Olivia spots Jose entering the front door. The Queen bellows. "How's the arson?" She produces an ear piercing cackle. It is clear she is inebriated. She reeks of alcohol, swaying and spilling the vino in the glass she carries. Another permanent stain present from the wine club.

Jose halts, turns and eyes her wearily. "Have you given your statement yet?"

"The Police are coming back next week." Olivia wobbles. "And you better behave."

"And I hope you tell the truth," the Principal warns.

Olivia levels her shredding eyes, and points a threatening finger. She slurs in a screeching tone, "Are you calling me a liar?" The nerve racking noise attracts a crowd, so there will be plenty of witnesses to this showdown.

Jose eyes the swaying lady coldly. "So are you going to tell the truth?"

Olivia fires her glass of wine at the wall. "You bastard! I, I am not a liar!"

Right then Bill marches in, sticks out his chest, shakes his fist in Jose's face. "Did you call my wife a liar?"

"No, I'm asking her to tell what really happened." I am curious why Jose does not say something about the video he received. But maybe he is waiting for the right moment.

Bill takes a swing at Jose. Surprisingly, Jose blocks that punch, and smiles calmly at the grey haired older man. Has Jose been taking lessons from his black belt wife?

"You insolent pup." Bill attempts another swing. Jose blocks it.

This time Bill ventures to knee Jose in the groin. Except, Jose side steps that attack rather smoothly. An enraged Bill strives to wrestle Jose. However, after rolling around on the floor for a few seconds, Jose sits on top of the former Sergeant. Bill fights to free himself with Olivia beating on Jose's head and screaming, "You attacked my Bill!" Her granny glasses fly off her face in the ruckus, clattering to the floor behind her.

Err! I let her know whose side I am on. She endeavours to kick me. I dodge her attack. She tries one more time, misses again. I know if I can go on the offensive her glasses are well positioned.

Woof! Woof! Woof! I throw my big dog bark at her while executing a lightening lunge at her ankle, snapping my sharp teeth a fraction from her skin. She staggers back. Teeters for a moment, and falls flat on her fat ass. Crushing those century old spectacles.

Bill continues to rage, straining to escape Jose's grip. Although his efforts are futile resulting in a stream of inept profanities directed at his conquerer.

Olivia wails and attempts to rise. However, she tumbles right back down, ensuring the glasses fate. She turns, glass crunching underneath her, glares at Jose and threatens, "We'll sue, and you're going to prison for this."

Trisha slips out of the shadows, holding up her phone. "Don't think so! I sent the video to Vanessa already."

A struggling Bill spits at Jose. He turns to Trisha and mutters, "I'll ruin you."

Thursday evening Anna and I enjoy a short leisurely walk. However, I am not getting caught off guard again. So, the pack of toughs I run with follow at a discrete distance. My posse includes a Rottweiler, Pit Bull, and big goofy Saint Bernard. Our pack runs these beach streets, and we are on high alert.

Sure enough, a couple of muscle bound thugs step in behind us. Anna spots them, freezes, panic floods her face, tears roll from her disconcerted eyes. "Oh my God!"

I vault out of her arms, speed straight for the gorillas. Err! Err! Err! That signals the pack to move. And wow do they move. Those two Russian mobsters do not know what hit them. They flee the scene with shredded clothes, torn flesh, and blood spewing from multiple bites. Our fun loving Saint Bernard even gives them both a germ laden face wash as a parting present. The present they left Anna is one of their bulging wallets.

We escort the upset Anna home, ensuring she arrives safe and sound. Then the boys and I decide to raise a little more hell. However, no Bud induced hell. No pitstop at the Sand Pile tonight. For this posse must be on constant guard for my friends.

That just means we can entertain our small brains in other ways. We heard some of the cats from Peach Palace were having a backyard wailing session — so off we go. The four pussies owned by Mrs Winkles are there as is Claws. Their combined screeching, squealing and squawking ensures no sleep for any of the Peach Palace residence.

We surround them silently. Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! Our simultaneous deep barks ignite feline chaos. Each of those shell shocked pusses urinate immediately, and utilize one of their nine cats lives. We fill the night with our doggy laughter. Our work here is done. I call it a night, and head to check on Anna.

The night was a long agonizing sleepless nightmare for Miss Romanov. I stayed with her to greet the sunrise. The thug fight had obviously upset the Russian lady. However, that was not all. For she had wrestled with herself, back and forth, Cam or no Cam. All night I watched and sensed this person drag herself through such love and lust torture. Her pained expressions, her confused energy, told all to this canine.

My doggy radar recognizes a decision has been reached. She proceeds to her room, dresses quickly and returns with a determined look. "I must put closure on this situation." She picks me up and we exit, making our way quietly to the surfer's pad.

Cam opens the door in a daze. Does not look like my surfing friend enjoyed many winks either.

"Come in," he said meekly. We settle in with me sitting between these two tormented souls. I grace them with my cute wide-eyed puppy look. I peer at one, then turn my head and look at the other. They both return me a pensive grin. However, a couple of rounds of this puppy dog cuteness, and the two finally let fly with a genuine laugh. The tension deflates.

"Okay! Cam, I, I didn't handle what you said very well."

"I shouldn't have. That was..."

"It's just I'm in such a mess. I can't bring anyone down with me." She shrinks into herself. "And you are such a nice guy." I jump into her lap. She hugs me. "And you..." She rubs me under the chin.

"Thanks for being honest."

"Not being totally honest," Anna sets me aside, stands and drops her trench coat.

He lets out an involuntary gasp.

The goddess like Anna wets her lips, winks at Cam, looks deeply into his eyes. "So you like?"

Cam nods nervously. His tongue hangs out and eyes bug out. For what an outfit, she has her black, thigh high boots on, and black lingerie hugging her figure revealing plenty of inviting cleavage and curves. This lady is one sizzling knock out.

"Ah, Ah, I."

Her eyes shine as she sits on his knee perkily. She plants a passionate kiss on his lips, and runs her hands over those huge biceps, ensuring not to put pressure on his arm that is in a sling. However, there is extensive pressure occurring down below. Except, can Cam respond?

She lowers her lashes and whispers, "I love you Cam! I should have told you when you said those magic words to me." She brushes her hair from her forehead and sighs. "But I was scared, really scared!"

"But together we can..."

"We'll talk later!" Anna's hungry eyes gleam with desire. She presses her finger to Cam's lips. "For now, we have our guard dog here to keep us safe. You and I may go into the bedroom. But first..." She kisses him on the lips, moves to his earlobe, and then his neck. Meanwhile, her hands are skillfully relaxing Cam's tense body. For I can see the concern on his face. He is wondering if he has healed enough. Can he rise to the challenge? She takes a break and said soothingly, "Only if you are ready." She hugs him. "we can just cuddle if you want."

Cam appears apprehensive and vulnerable, yet still determined. He gulps. "I, I want to try, but..."

"Then just relax and enjoy," she said in her seductive Russian accent. Anna continues to caress, kiss and lick provocatively, and yet clearly ensuring Cam feels no pressure to dive deeper into the hot sex inferno.

However, I think there is a spark of pressure, or is that a raging fire brewing, below the belt. For Cam's eyes widen, sweat commences to pour off his brow, and he mutters, "Anna!"

She did not need more encouragement. For there goes the zipper. She puckers her lips. "Wow Cam!" She runs her tongue around her ripe and plump mouth in anticipation.

He forms a hopeful smile of sex expectation.

She begins her delicate dance with Cam's injured penis. Oh Anna, you are an expert at the love game. Her fingers play it like a Russian pianist. Her lips suck gracefully like a Russian ballerina. Finally, Cam's penis stands up straight like a good Russian soldier ready to take orders. I need to find me a sweet Russian terrier with these super-skills to play this exhilarating game.

Anna raises her head slowly. Her eyes gleam with anticipation. She takes Cam's hand. "Its time! But I am going to be very gentle." She touches his injured arm lightly. "Very gentle indeed."

He lets out a long breath. "Wow!" He strokes her flowing long hair softly. "You're amazing!"

She delivers a peck on the cheek. "With your arm and ribs being broken." She giggles knottily. "You're going to lay back and enjoy!" She kisses him more passionately. "While I play nurse." She grips his penis tenderly. "This is how we heal a soldier in Russia."

Early on a relaxing Friday afternoon, I lay in Trisha's bedroom watching the scantily dressed lovely immersed in her yoga in front of the window. She is one graceful and supple gal. Look at her bend and stretch in those crazy positions. Wow! My eyes widen in shock. I need to hook up with a doggy lady who can perform in these positions. Are there doggy yoga classes?

She looks at me in between poses and giggles. "What are you looking at you dirty dog?"

Yip! That means you caught me. Trisha also caught me one late night doing the doggy-style dance with a delightful miniature collie. I snuck the shy sweetheart into the common room, and was making sweet sex magic on the leather couch when Trisha happened to walk in. She winked. I barked, and kept on ensuring that squealing collie maximized her sexual delight.

"Got to keep this body in shape."

Woof! That bark means you carry one hot form. If Trisha only knew how many people I caught with their tongues hanging out while peeking up into her window while she works her agile form. And when she commences to do her jazzercise in front of the window — I swear some of the old cronies almost have a heart attack.

She leans over and pets me on the head. "You are so smart. Too smart for this building. And I love you."

Woof! That bark means I love you too.

"Besides a couple of people, do you ever think the building will figure out I am not a Life Coach?"

Yip! That bark means, I did not know that.

"Never thought I'd become a hooker."

Yip! Yip! All this time those men and women parading in and out of here were coming for sex. And was Reverend Wallis paying for it?

"The one good thing I realized about hooking." She lights up like a christmas tree. "I definitely prefer women."

Woof! That means I am so very happy for you. The thought of it gets me horny.

"And I'm crazy in love with one of my clients." Trisha takes on a pained expression. "But she'll never return the feelings." She groans with regret. "Cause I'm a fucking whore."

I whimper to show my support.

Her mouth moves anxiously. "To top it off, Bill is going to expose me."

Err! I let her know what I think of Mr. President.

She hugs me lovingly. "My big hero! I'll probably have to leave."

I whine and give her my sad puppy dog eyes. Oh how I feel Trisha's pain.

Woof! That bark means you cannot leave. How can this canine help?

She takes on a wistful look. "Hard to believe, I am a certified Life Coach and have a Masters in Psychology." Her shoulders slump. "But, business was slow. So, I started doing tricks." A tear rolls down her eye. "And I couldn't stop."

I place my head on her lap, attempting to console the poor girl, Nn...nn...nn!

A quiet knock on the door sounds. Tk.Tk.Tk.Tk. I race across the tile floor to the door. Trisha drys her eyes and opens up.

"Hi Trisha!" Vanessa said in a friendly manner. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Woof! I ingratiate Vanessa with a warm welcome. Trisha continues to dry her eyes and sniffle. "Come on in."

"I'm sorry! Was this a bad time?"

"No! This little rascal and I were just chatting. Please come in and sit down."

We all settle on the couch and I sit between these two special ladies. I love low cut tops as I drool over the two exquisite sets of glistening bosoms. If I were a man, I'd be begging for a threesome. Reminds me of my rendezvous with a set of wild and adventurous Boston Terrier twins. The frisky females ravaged and road my dog-shaft down to a pencil by night's end.

"First thing, I want to thank you again for sending that video of the fight." Vanessa lets out a long breath. "Saved Jose's ass."

"You're very welcome."

Vanessa clears her throat. "Ah Trisha! Could I have a look at the HOA detailed financial statements for a minute?"

Trisha furrows her brow. "Bill gave me strict instructions that no one but him was to see those detailed statements."

"Why?"

Trisha shrugs her shoulders.

"Do you have electronic statements?"

Trisha shakes her head. "Bill did all the accounting himself. Then once a year, he had Budget Accounting audit whatever he had prepared. And there's only one paper copy which I have."

"That's odd!"

"Wish they wouldn't have made me VP Finance. I know absolutely nothing about accounting."

"Then why did you accept the role?"

Trisha looks down in shame. "I, I..."

Woof! That means please be understanding Vanessa. I cuttle in on Trisha's lap.

"Do you ever look at the statements?"

Trisha shakes her head.

"Or sign a cheque?"

"All I do is sign whatever Bill puts in front of me."

"But that could get you in trouble," Vanessa said with concern in her voice.

"I, I know." Trisha lets the flood gates open. "But, but..."

Vanessa takes Trisha's hand comfortingly. "Jose mentioned that Bill threatened you the other day. What is going on?" She inquires in a soft voice. "We want to help."

Thirty minutes later Vanessa has the detailed statements audited by Budget Accounting which she desired, and we have Trisha's entire story.

Later that afternoon I sprawl out relaxingly on the grass at the front of the building. I savour the calm, listening to the gentle ocean waves across the street. I reflect back — remembering fondly my first dip into the pool of puppy sex. An older and much more worldly shitzu introduced me to the delights of lust. Oh, that oriental seductress graced me with many tantalizing tricks and treats. I was enraptured by the tender and considerate lover — but it was only puppy-love.

The sound of a motor interrupts my magic memory. A black limo pulls up with Bill and the wine club exiting. They are all dressed in black. They have returned from Chuck's funeral. Bubbles does not appear all that distraught. In fact, it is as if the widow has returned from being the bell of the ball. Glowing and holding onto Bill for support.

Olivia scowls and snaps at me, "Get off the grass!" She lets fly with a lethal kick, but that queen moves just too slow.

Err. Err! I would take a big chunk out of you lady, not just a nip. But, I would most likely get poisoned. And anyway, I got you good last night when you forgot your hat on the bench. So, I shit in it. It was double the fun when witnessing her return to claim it. She popped that waste-enhanced hat on her head. Her horrified look sparked me to roll and howl in doggy hysteria.

Olivia, Whitney and Mrs. Winkles give Bubbles hugs and proceed ahead. Bill and Bubbles hold back. Bill now gives the widow a comforting hug. Is that Bill's over-friendly hand groping her ass? Except he appears a bit nervous with Olivia so close, so what does he do? Yes, he shoves that finger in his nose. Quickly removes it, realizing his mistake, but, not before he mined a bit of gross.

Bubbles touches him longingly. "What would I do without you?"

"I'll take care of Chuck's insurance," Bill assures.

Bubbles lays her head on his shoulder and whispers seductively, "I wore no panties — just for you." Her lingering hand slips downward, pinches his ass and snickers. "Oh Bill, you've been such a big comfort."

However, with all these tender moment hugs, my sharp doggy eyes see that someones cell phone has fallen into a nearby flower bed.

"I'll be up shortly to ensure you're all right," Blue Bill whispers suggestively.

Bubbles winks invitingly. "I'll be waiting with open arms." She brushes her breast up against him. "And with open legs."

An eery cloud covered Saturday night as only the front lights of Peach Palace penetrate the darkness. I have been instructed to stay cuddly and cute as Anna holds me on the outside steps. Here comes the limo. Anna shivers. I am so damn excited. Sergey's limo stops in front, exactly as planned.

Anna does not move. She waits, does not proceed to the car. Her phone rings. The hulking driver exits the limo scowling at Miss Romanov. He beckons her to come. Anna shakes her head defiantly. His door remains open as he begins to lumber impatiently in our direction. The action unfolds quickly.

Two huge security guards jump out of the car in front of the limo. Two security guards leap out of the car parked behind, and two security guys hop out of the bushes lining the street. As well, my canine posse steps quietly out of the shadows. They are just there as back up, just in case.

Sergey's driver is man handled and slammed up against the limo. While two of the security guards enter the limo through the open driver door with guns drawn. They take complete control — leaving Sergey powerless. The remainder of the security guards and my bone-burying buddies surround the limo.

Cam steps out from the bush, and strides up to Sergey who is dragged unceremoniously out of the limo. The repulsive Russian mobster's voice sounds tougher then he looks. "What the fuck do you think you fools are doing?"

Out of the front door of Peach Palace limps Anna's father. Cam had him flown here from Moscow yesterday. Anna sets me down as her and her father stroll slowly up to Sergey.

Anna pulls out a cell phone, and begins filming the discussion.

Sergey growls with his deformed mouth. "I'll only ask one more time, what the fuck do you think you are doing?" He struggles to get away from a vice like grip a security guard has on him.

"Here's how it's going to work," Cam said firmly. "Here is a certified cheque." He places it in Sergey's pocket. "A cheque for 500,000."

Sergey lets out a guttural scream. "I want more."

"You get what I owe you, and the interest Anna has paid," Anna's Father said. "That was the deal."

"I will kill you all," Sergey spits on Cam's arm. A security guard smacks the old man.

"I can see you're going to be a problem," Cam said as he wipes his arm. "So, let's end this here." The multi-millionaire surfer waves beckoningly at the front door, out marches Vanessa.

Cam grabs Sergey by the collar. "Now you two bit thug. You are going to listen. A fortunate lost wallet put us on to a particular laundry mat you own. This expert Accountant had a look at some of your records from that local laundry mat."

The Russian mobster shakes his head. "No fucking way you got..."

Cam nods. "Oh yeah. Those records conveniently fell into our hands." One of the Security Guards enjoys a chuckle as Cam carries on, "These records clearly show this business is used for money laundering."

"Fuck off!" Sergey snarls and struggles. He is slapped.

"Let's cut to the chase," Vanessa said. "Any authority could see this is a front for money laundering."

"That means, if you stay in this country any longer — I will turn the records over to the authorities," Cam said.

"Never stick!" Sergey bellows.

Right then Sergey's driver breaks free of the Security Guard hold. My Rottweiler pal sinks his teeth into the thug's leg. However, the hero is Vanessa who only requires two lightening kicks and two pinpoint punches and the thug is out cold. All stare in wide eyed amazement.

Sergey utilizes the distraction to free one hand, grasp his gun in his pocket and whip it out. He casts his deadly dark eyes at Anna and aims at her head. I clamp my jaws around Sergey's fleshy ankle at the exact moment the hideous monster fires. A split second later one of the security guards shoots Sergey right between his beady eyes. Sergey is dead before he hits the ground.

Cam looks back at Anna. "Oh my God!" He races to her side as she lay on the ground.

She smiles as she gazes upward. "I hit the deck when the lead starting flying." She looks at me. "You threw off his aim." I run to her side for hugs.

Cam pets me affectionately. "Prince, you saved Anna's life."

I look up spotting a no glasses wearing Olivia, squinting her cold-hearted eyes as she watches the Sergey disaster unfold from her balcony. She shakes her head in disgust. My super-sonic ears catch her mutter, "Oh Sergey. Such a fool. We were running such a successful operation. If only you'd have listened to your sister."

Late Sunday night drags on as I sit next to the fastidious Vanessa on their couch while she pours over the Peach Palace financial statements Trisha handed her. She has wracked her brain over these. Unfortunately, she has discovered nothing out of the ordinary. She pulls violently on her ear as she concentrates. I bet that earring will be diving to the floor soon.

"Time to go to bed Honey," Jose said sleepily. "You're just getting more frustrated."

The meticulous Accountant groans. "I know something is wrong with these statements. I can't put my finger on it."

"Maybe it'll be clear in the morning."

She scrunches up her face. "But I'm so close."

Woof! Woof! That means keep digging. You're almost there. I can sense when a human brain is about to put the last piece in the puzzle. I hop off the couch, pull out the cell phone I had wrapped in a napkin. I had slid it under the couch when I first came in. I carry it over to Jose.

"I wondered what Grande was hiding under there." Jose takes the napkin and unwraps it.

Woof! That means maybe this can help.

Vanessa snatches the phone. Turns it on, plays for a minute. "Oh my God!"

"What is it?"

"One minute! Let me check something." Vanessa flips through the phone, whistles as she reads emails. She then types into her lap top. She stares at the screen for a long minute. The grandfather clock strikes twelve. She rubs her eyes, then zeros back in on the financial statements. Turns back to the cell with a horrified look, slaps the table top sharply. "That fucking..."

NINE

The rarest of rain storms blew in on this Monday morning. This is the day of the HOA meeting where all cash is due. There have been a ton of bank visits, tears and worry throughout the week. One fellow who has gone through hell shakes like a leaf as he sits on the front bench. Bucky is a study in sadness and frustration as tears and rain slide down his cheek.

The forlorn Bucky looks over at me, "How am I going to pay for it?" He slams his fist into his palm.

Woof! That bark means I understand how tough it is for you.

"My sister won't answer my calls."

Cam shuffles out of the building, and spots the upset Comedian. "Hey Bucky, what is it?"

"I don't have the money, the bank said no. I'm fucked!"

"Bucky, you've been a good friend over the years."

Bucky nods and forces a slight smile. "You bet surfer man!"

"So, how about I cover your restoration amount?" Cam pats Bucky on the shoulder. "But in the meeting I need you to..."

Two hours from the HOA meeting, I hear moaning from unit 103 as I do my rounds. What the hell is that? It sounds like one of the cats at Mrs. Winkles is in heat. I scamper to the door just in case there is a problem. The door sits wide open.

The irritating wailing continues. A putrid smell flows from the condo. I poke my head in, take a few steps into the piles-of-junk unit. Oh my God! I will never be the same. This scene is traumatizing. I need dog therapy. For laying on the couch, Mrs. Winkles wearing only her tattered slippers is engrossed in utilizing a gigantic vibrator. She feverishly works the toy, shaking her head, agonizingly garbling out Bill's name. To add to the creepy sight, she is surrounded by her four cats, and Olivia's black cat, Claws.

I turn to flee this nut house. However, laying right beside the cat litter box are two items. The first is a couple of condoms. They are exactly the same brand that I have found scattered throughout the complex, including my doggy bed. The mean-spirited unscrupulous Claws turns to me and snickers knowingly. These are the brand Bill utilizes. Now I know the dirty pussy who has been distributing the contaminated condoms, and that feline should pay.

The second item I notice is a letter. I halt, snatch it up, and race out of there knowing I will carry that disturbing vibrator vision for many years to come.

It has been a wild week since the approval was past. All 50 owners pack into the conference room this evening. I snatch my little corner close to the door. There is a hostile tension in the air as my nostrils overflow with human aggression.

"Let's begin." Bill utilizes a commanding voice. "42 owners have paid in full. Their money is in the bank. I need the other 8 right now, or else."

A series of sullen folks shuffle to the front. Four people hand cheques to Bill.

"Four more and we are done." A glowing Bill puffs up his chest, glares at the comedian. "Bucky, no surprise a low life like you couldn't pay."

"Did you pay?" Bucky asks.

An indignant Sergeant Bill strikes the table and hollers, " How dare you?" He then scowls at Cam, "Speaking of low life's, what about you, surfing sissy?"

"Have you paid up?" Cam asks with a smile.

Bill flushes and shakes his fist at him. "Enough of this. What about you Anna?"

"Have you paid Bill?" Anna repeats the same question. I can tell how this strategy is seriously irritating Blue Bill. His blood vessels are standing to attention, ready to erupt.

He snarls and looks over at Vanessa contemptuously. "Where is it? Or shall I alert our lawyer to deal with you delinquents?"

"You may want to alert our lawyer," Vanessa advises. "But to inform them of you and Bubbles fraudulent activity."

"Your crazy!" The President rages, pounds the table multiple times. "I order you to pay up!"

"Nice try." Vanessa points a threatening finger at Bill. "It's over. You have been funnelling HOA money into a your Central American bank account for years." She pulls out some financial statements, holds them in the air. She scans the entire room. "Do you know how much he has stole from our HOA?"

Shock floods the faces of everyone in the room.

"Just how much?" Bucky inquires with Olivia shooting him a scathing look.

"Shut up Bucky!" Bubbles throws a pen at him. "No one stole anything."

"You and Bubbles have had quite the scam going," Vanessa accuses.

"I'm outraged!" Sergeant Bill fingers his metals anxiously. "I order you to get out!"

Vanessa carries on, "After a detailed review of the shoddy financial statements. Bill, you are in big trouble. The gaps and missing entries are obvious. Once I made the Bubbles connection."

"There's no way my husband took money," Olivia defends her man wearing a new pair of even uglier specs. Although her scowl directed at Bubbles could kill.

"Bill and I took nothing," Bubbles claims as she affectionately touches the President on the arm. Olivia clinches her fist, appears about to leap out and strangle her blonde friend.

Now it is time for me to move. I pick up the letter I hid back in the corner before the meeting began. I snatch it up, take it over to Cam. He scans it quickly.

"Why is there a letter from our earthquake insurance company verifying that our condo policy is paid in full for this year?"

Bill turns ashen. He grinds his teeth. "Impossible! Some sort of mistake." Suddenly, the nervous President commences to mine for booger gold with his finger.

Cam passes the letter to Anna. She reads it. "No mistake Bill. We are covered for earthquake coverage."

"Clearly a mistake," Bill leans over and grabs the letter. "This has last years date." He attempts to rip it up, but the quick thinking Vanessa grasps it out of his hand.

She studies it. "You liar. The letter is for this year. You were planning on pocketing the insurance money."

A panic struck Bill rises and whips out his gun. "Everybody stay where you are!" He enjoys a malicious laugh. "And we got most of your restoration money."He holds up the four cheques in the air. "Most of it is in my secret account already, along with all the earthquake insurance money." Bill belts out a hideous laugh. "You fools!"

"Put down the gun," Cam commands. "You'll never get away with this."

"Fucking right I will!" Bill shouts nervously. "I planned for a counter attack such as this."

Bubbles stands, kissing Bill on the cheek. "Great thinking lover."

Bill pushes her away. "Larry dear, you know the drill." Larry pulls a small tank out of his back pack. "A little sleeping gas to keep all of you occupied while Larry and I escape."

The colour drains from the face of each of the wine club ladies. Olivia gasps and clutches at her chest and sputters, "But, but Bill!"

The determined Bubbles flashes a desperation flirtatious smile, attempting one last gasp effort. "But Bill! You said I was the best fuck ever." She pushes out her breasts. "What about...?"

"Get real you bimbo!" Bill chuckles cruelly. "Thanks for Chuck's insurance money."

Bubbles grasps Bill by the shoulder. "You didn't!"

"I did!" he strikes her hard. She screams in pain. She slumps to the floor, burying her head in her hands and weeping.

Whitney clutches for Bill's hand and theatrically asks, "But I thought I was your true love? The secrets we shared."

"You're such a snob." Bill tosses her hand aside.

Mrs. Winkles, supporting her housecoat and shredded slippers, stands. She utters a guttural sound, and moves to hit Bill. He throws her aside roughly. She crumbles to the floor with her housecoat coming undone. Oh no! She wears nothing underneath. I need more doggy therapy, as well as everyone else in this room.

"Crazy bat!" Bill spits on her. "But wild in the sack." It is apparent he was playing the cat lover as well. For that is where I found the earthquake policy — right there beside her dirty cat litter box.

"Sorry wine witches!" Larry turns on the sleeping gas. "I win the Bill prize!" Larry tosses a small gas mask to Bill. "Between Bill's take from the HOA, and what I've scammed from the travel agency — we're set for life!" He slips a gas mask on.

"But Bill!" Olivia pleads with her voice on the edge of shrillness.

"Shut up!" Bill barks. "You old bag!"

Olivia reaches in her purse fumbling for something. Bill takes two strides, and whacks her on the head with the butt of his gun. Her new glasses shatter. She collapses to the floor with a thud, and a gun in her own hand. "I learn to think like a criminal from you." He kicks her.

"Larry dear, collect all cell phones." Bill waves his gun in the air.

"You got it, honey bear!" Larry responds as he snatches up the phones from the drowsy owners.

"You'll never get away!" Cam said woozily.

Bill strikes Cam on his broken arm. "Let's get out of here." The chopper is on standby.

The President follows Larry towards the door with the gas filling the room. "Nobody move!" Bill digs in his pocket, pulls out his keys. He plans on locking us in the conference room. I have slipped closer to the door. As Bill is distracted with the keys. I leap and snap my teeth down on his hand. I feel the crunch of bone — hanging on for dear life. I got lots of fight left in me, for there is an advantage riding so low to the ground.

So does this spark plug have fight, for the black belt Vanessa sends a flying kick at Bill's chest slamming him into the wall. She follows up with a combination of punches that knocks Bill out cold.

Larry squeals as a wobbly Jose wisely puts him in a head lock making sure there is no escape.

Fifteen minutes later the police are on the scene. People are being revived. Bill and Larry are dragged off in handcuffs. Statements are being given, and I have got the cops here so, it is time to put the last item to rest. I race off to my doggy bed, grab the knife that I clumsily wrapped into a napkin. Do you know how hard that is to do for a dog?

I locate the cop I think is running this show, slip up to him, dropping the napkin.

"What's this?"

Woof! Come on smart guy, open it up.

He picks it up off the floor, unfolds it and sighs. "Well, well, smattered in dry blood. Where did you find this?"

Woof! If you follow me, you will find out. So, he does. I lead him to a hole I had dug up at the back remote section of the complex. Olivia's cat, Claws, stands guard over the hole, just like the night of the murder.

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! And just like that night, my big dog, fuck off bark sends that cat leaping into the air, hair standing straight up, and eyes as wide as a saucer. When that conspiratorial cat comes down, it dashes for safety in the heights of a nearby tree.

We make our way to the difficult to access hole. And what is there? But a set of gloves laden with dry blood. And I know these blood stained gloves will fit.

Two days later all the police statements have been given. Many of the charges have been laid. Bill and Larry have a long list. Bubbles, Whitney and Mrs. Winkles are under investigation for fraudulent behaviour. But they may all cut a deal to nail Bill and Larry. It will be one messy trial.

Olivia is charged with the murder of Chuck. Why did she do it? It turned out Chuck was zeroing in on Olivia's organized crime connections, and attempted to blackmail her. As well, that organized crime connection may give her a few extra years in the slammer.

Now with Queen Olivia and King Bill gone, who will step up and snatch the top royalty titles at Peach Palace? Also, with Bill and Olivia in jail, that condom leaving Claws the cat has been shipped out of the complex — good riddance.

Vanessa, Jose, Anna and Cam sit around a patio table by the pool. I lay soaking up the sun under the table grabbing up the droppings. I just returned from a visit to both Bucky and Trisha. Bucky was polishing his new routine, for he is now a regular at the Sand Pile. That Sand Pile which is under new ownership. Cam purchased the bar from the congenial former owner who was like a grandfather to the surfer. With a small injection of cash, the prime beach property will make an excellent long term investment.

Trisha has decided to give up her life as a hooker, and return to her Life Coaching dream. With a lot of help and encouragement from Vanessa. Along with a cash donation from Cam to allow her to upgrade her professional skills. She also has free rent in a soon-to-be renovated office above the Sand Pile. As well, the love-struck Trisha ventures out excitedly on her first real date tonight with her former favourite client.

"The earthquake insurance will cover the basic restoration," Vanessa said. "But, very basic."

Cam stretches and grasps Anna's hand. "What's the difference in price between doing it right, and the basic?"

"Oh about 500K." replies Vanessa.

"Consider it covered," Cam said. "And I'd like to donate an additional 500K to do some of the upgrades Whitney spoke of. Not quite at the level she wanted. But let the owners decide."

"Cam, why?" Vanessa inquires.

"This place will always be special to me. The creative juices it brought out in me while I built that App."

"You're a good guy!" Anna leans over and kisses him. "And thanks for letting Dad stay in your place." She kisses Cam again more fervently. "While we play house at my place."

"And one of the items we will build is a real dog house," Cam said.

Woof! My own pad, I get up and do a bachelor dog dance.

"And big fella," Vanessa adds. "We also got you something that will change your life. Something to share that doggy house with." She slips off to the side, and brings in the sexiest little cocker spaniel. My eyes bug out. The cheeky thing hops out of Vanessa's arms and waltzes up to me, giving me a kiss on the nose, and a little nip to follow.

"You've been marked Prince," Cam pets me.

She dashes away, playing hard to get. I follow the spicy beauty off with the electricity pumping low in my loins. Sure! Sure! I can play this mating dance. But, Honey, you'll be doing the Snowflake shuffle with the King of Peach Palace before too long.

