How to Have Fun With Only One Tentacle
an excerpt

Ladislov had been working on the roof of a big, fancy, two-story veterinarian’s office. They’d gotten the leak fixed and he’d just sent the other two men down off the roof. As he was climbing off the roof onto the ladder, a runaway greyhound dashed past in pursuit of a small, fluffy dog. The greyhound slammed right into the ladder, sending it and Ladislov crashing to the concrete sidewalk below.

“My God! Are you all right?”

Ladislov, lying bleeding on the sidewalk, found himself looking up into a pair of shocked blue eyes. He had an impression of long, long legs, a miniskirt, scarlet lipstick, and big hair, but the voice was totally wrong, being deep and unmistakably male.

“I’m Paul,” the mixed-up vision said. “Now you just lie here quietly, and the ambulance will be here in a trice.”

Then the tall person with the fabulous legs had ordered the several people nearby to round up the loose dogs and sent Ladislov’s co-workers off to their boss with the news of his fall. He or she had then swept off a really nice jacket and tucked it under Ladislov’s aching head, calling all the while for someone to “hurry the fuck up and bring me something to use to stop this bleeding!”

Ladislov’s pain-hazed mind spent the next few minutes grappling with the surprising information that Saint Paul was a transvestite, a fucking gorgeous one at that, and that he himself was badly hurt and going into shock. Saint Paul, meanwhile, hovered over him in a comfortingly proprietary way, now clutching the small, fluffy white dog that had been the cause of his mishap.

“This is Miss Frisky Tail,” St. Paul said, indicating the dog, who licked Ladislov’s face. He was sure that he was bleeding, and wondered if this was a vampire dog who would run rampant now that it had gotten a taste of fresh blood. But St. Paul didn’t seem at all worried, and knelt on the ground next to Ladislov, pressing a cloth to his forehead and chattering away in an alarmingly deep and sexy voice, telling him how he would be just fine and how he (St. Paul) was missing an audition right this minute and – “now pay attention to me, honey, you can’t go to sleep till the paramedic gets here.”

While St. Paul was kneeling there, ministering to his injuries, Ladislov got a good look right up under the really tiny miniskirt. Yep. St. Paul was definitely not female, despite the heavy makeup and perky breasts. He had an odd urge to cop a feel, wondering if St. Paul had implants or had maybe just stuffed socks in his bra, but his arm screamed when he tried to move it and he had to just lie there, panting, while red and black spots flashed before his eyes.

“What were you trying to do?” St. Paul scolded. “Be still, you have broken bones and probably a concussion, too.”

“Just trying,” Ladislov was shocked to hear himself say, “to see if you had socks in your bra.”

The big blue eyes got bigger and bluer. “Well! I’d show you myself what I’ve got tucked away in there, honey, but there are people watching us right now.”

Ladislov peered around and saw a small crowd hanging round. There also seemed to be a lot of dogs standing around panting and looking at him and he wondered if they thought he was maybe a new fire hydrant.

“don’ let ‘em,” he muttered.

St. Paul leaned closer. “Don’t let them what, honey?”

But his eye was caught as one lady picked up a little girl who was crying and started carrying her off. The sight jogged Ladislov’s memory.

“Shit!” Ladislov’s eyes widened with horror and he forgot, for one brief second, just how much he hurt. “My kids!” He tried to sit up and fell back, gasping at the pain.

“Where are they?” the sexy Saint asked, looking around as though they might appear on the lawn, schoolbooks in hand.

“At school,” Ladislov panted, just as the ambulance arrived.

“What time do they get out?”

“Three-three thirty,” Ladislov said, stumbling over the words. The pain had reached a crescendo of awfulness, and it was getting harder and harder to think clearly.

“It’s only quarter to two,” St. Paul said, looking at his expensive looking watch. “There’s plenty of time to get you to the hospital before they get out of school.”

“But I gotta pick them up.”

St. Paul rose and stepped aside, just as the paramedics appeared, stretcher in hand. “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey, I’ll take care of everything.”

Ladislov had been far too busy in the next few minutes to protest, and anyway, what could he do, with a broken leg and broken arm and who knew what else broken besides? The paramedics gave him a shot and suddenly the pain wasn’t so bad, but his mind, which had already been going fuzzy, now took an alarming turn into what his kids would call wonky coo-coo land.

As he was lifted into the ambulance, he saw the Saint smiling down at him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey,” he said. “I’m riding in with you and I’ll take care of everything.” He leaned over and whispered, “now just keep quiet and take a hold of my hand. I’ve told them I’m your wife.”