The kisses and passionate attention came like a flush of heat from a central air system. What a heavenly way to be greeted in the morning.

Linny giggled and sighed as the amorous assault continued. Her whole body slowly awakened as her heart rate increased in direct relation to the kisses and love nips that continued, moving from her neck to her earlobes. Not willing to let go of her floating, half-dream state, she kept her eyes closed.

Ah, wonderful! But who was it? There had been no plans for a morning surprise. Sherry? She smiled. Hmmm, there was that intensity of a mostly closet lesbian that made the tall blonde so intriguing. But she had an early client meeting, and she never allowed pleasure to get in the way of business.

Oh, but there was Jason, that cute little intern she had slipped a key to after that meet-and-greet for the new foreign investment group at work. He was eager to please and still deliciously young and unskilled enough to be too heavy on the wet tongue. And she HAD worked him into a drooling tizzy last evening before heading out with her friends for a bit of shopping and drinks at The Barrel.

Linny smiled. She would have to give him a little lecture on inappropriate behavior after a bit of her own. Her hand reached out lazily – and encountered nothing.

The erotically romantic dream shattered, and she opened her large blue eyes with a savage jerk and a small squeak. She told herself she had to still be dreaming.

Teetering back onto its haunches, a Chihuahua shaped roughly like a fleshy grapefruit leered at her, its tongue flopping between its lips. The dog offered a soft, breathy "Woof" as it continued to roll backwards.

Linny watched, stunned, as the little dog, with only the faintest look of bewilderment, disappeared over the edge of the bed, followed by a soft thump and a wheezy bit of flatulence.

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Jaye sat in the middle of a park. No trees, no children, no animals, nothing nearby. Just her, the park bench and Sharon's planner.

As few distractions as possible, she decided. No influences by talking critters. No humans to offer temptations or psychoanalytical perspective. Only Jaye and her own thoughts. Well, that, and the hope of finding her true feelings now that she had stolen more than just her sister's new blouse or prized lipstick. Sharon's organizer. Her reason for life. The one thing she relied on more than cigarettes and the occasional gin and tonic to keep her life manageable and carefully defined.

Completely cut off from any voice other than her own, Jaye waited for her Self to say whether she should open the organizer or not.

She found her inner voice utterly mute from inactivity.

"Well, hell," she muttered.

Being honest with herself, the only thing coming to mind was the relentless assault of dozens of chattering faux animals, each screaming, "Get rid of the bitch" in a different voice, a different pitch, a different tone. Headphones and loud music could not drown them out. Pleading, reasoning and protesting did not dent the din.

She shuddered. Everything used to be all cute but annoying, but since she'd survived being taken hostage by that armed fruitcake on the lamb, the little non-animals had become more vocal. In fact, she wasn't that surprised when Sharon informed her that she had missed family night for two weeks. The days had become a medley of cryptic orders and hints from anything what resembled an animal without a pulse. Combined with rampant shoplifting and impulse purchasing of whatever decided to communicate with her, Jaye felt as though she was on the receiving end of a relationship with an ethereal bad boy – tired, no will power, constantly handing out all of her money, but all without the thrill of illicit sex.

Oh well, she reasoned, if it will get them to shut the hell up, just a peek at the address section couldn't hurt. Right?

With a defeated sigh, Jaye unsnapped the blinding strap. The organizer, under immense pressure from Sharon's pack rat collection of bits of paper, Post-its, business cards and whatnot, sprang open. Jaye found herself looking at a paper napkin on which someone with a bit of artistic talent (obviously not her sister) had drawn a caricature of Sharon. Cocking her head in bewilderment, she rotated the sketch for a better view. Definitely Sharon. With furry little cat ears and whiskers. Just as Jaye started to laugh, the drawing's eyes turned to look at her.

"Hey!" it shouted in Sharon's pissy voice.

"Oh shit."