She pulled the dress on over her head and looked in the mirror. It was form fitting, just short enough to be inappropriate for work and just long enough to be appropriate in a small town. She pulled on a jean jacket and slipped her feet into a pair of simple heels. It was far from her normal attire, but tonight she had to blend in.
Her heels echoed on the pavement while she made her way out to the white Subaru waiting for her in the wrap around driveway. The heat from the day still radiated off the concrete even though the sun had disappeared several hours ago.
"Don't you look country," Lexa said when she climbed into the passenger seat.
"Oh good. That's the look I was going for," she replied. They started down the long gravel driveway, passing by the orchards surrounding her property.
"It's so dark out here at night. I don't think I could ever get used to this," Lexa said, turning onto the road.
"People out here say it's peaceful." She had grown up down this gravel driveway. And even though she had been back for a year, it still didn't feel like home. But it never had.
It wasn't long before the flashing neon sign welcoming them to Tiny's Bar was lighting up the inside of the SUV. The parking lot was packed with old trucks from the town inhabitants and new cars from the singles from the nearby cities who were wanting to taste a real life cowboy or cowgirl by the end of the night.
"Good luck," Lexa said. "You have your phone on you, right?"
"Yes. You have Alex waiting just in case, right?" This wasn't her normal hunt.
"Yes. Be safe. Follow your gut," Lexa said.
It was her gut that had brought her here. The proverbial itch she had never managed to scratch. And this was the last time she would reach for it.
The bar was loud and crowded, full of people hoping they wouldn't be waking up alone Saturday morning. Their eyes assessed her while she wandered to a corner table. Though some of the faces looked like shadows of the past, she doubted they could place where they knew her from. No braces, no glasses, a hair color change and no more baggy clothes covering up her figure. High school had passed twelve years ago, and she wasn't the same person anymore. She had grown into the type of woman men always seemed desperate to touch.
She sat at the small table patiently waiting. Bars had never been her thing and she hadn't been in one in years, but when she was driving through town the other day she had seen a truck stopped at the light that piqued her interest. The eyes of the men at the bar repeatedly looked her way as she twirled the straw in her drink, but none of them were his.
Shouting commenced when the door opened and three men walked in. They were loud, crude, and already staggering. She would have recognized them anywhere. Conner Brice, Johnny Cooper and Ryan Moore, infamous members of the community since high school thanks to their drinking and womanizing. Besides having a few more lines on their faces, they looked like they always had. But one was missing.
It didn't take long for the city girls to stake their claims, wooed by boots and cowboy hats. The three men were real cowboys unlike some of the other Wrangler wearing men in the bar. And they still oozed charisma and cowboy charm. Conner and Ryan's eyes glanced her way several times but not out of recognition. They were sizing her up. She knew the look well. They were contemplating their odds of taking her home. They must have decided they weren't very good, however, since neither headed her way.
She heard his voice before she saw him, shouting in from the half open door to his friends. He pushed his way through the crowd over to them, and it wasn't long before Conner was pointing her way, daring him.
"Hi," he said when he reached her table.
"Hi," she responded.
"Can I sit here?" he asked.
"Yes, " she answered. "How are you, Finn Dawson?"
He paused for a moment, biting his lip before he sat down in the chair. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked.
"Yes and no. We went to high school together," she replied. "Morgan."
"Hmmm... I don't see how I don't remember you," he said, shaking her hand. "So, Morgan, what are your plans for the night?" he inquired.
"Fucking you," she responded.
He laughed, and she knew he assumed she was joking. But when her face remained set he grabbed her hand and led her out of the bar. He opened the door to his old grey Dodge, the same one that was shiny and new when they were in high school, and she climbed inside.
When they arrived at his house they went straight to the bedroom. He bent down to kiss her, pulling her clothes off.
"You're so fucking hot," he said, his eyes fixed on her breasts. He hurriedly took his pants off and began backing her towards the bed. As she expected, he immediately started pushing himself between her legs.
"What are you doing?" she asked, blocking his entrance.
"What?" he questioned, confused.
"I'm not even wet yet. You're going to have to work a little harder than that," she informed him.
"Fuck," he grunted, rolling off her. "What do you want me to do?"
"You've fucked the whole town and you don't know what to do?" she exclaimed in feigned disbelief.
He rolled his eyes and started rubbing her roughly with his hand.
"Let's try sixty-nining," she suggested.
He lay back and she rolled on top of him. He had clearly not been properly trained in how to please, but that was something she had expected. She, on the other hand, was well versed.
"Holy fuck," he moaned when she covered his length with her mouth. She stroked him twice more and began to taste a warning this encounter would be short lived. She stopped and rolled off him.
"Seriously?" He sat up and started to stroke himself.
"You're about to come and I'm nowhere near coming," she told him.
"Let me fuck you, then."
She let him get on top of her and rubbed her clit as he entered her.
"Fuck your shit is tight," he groaned, pushing in deeper. His body started to tense after only a few thrusts.
