This is the first installment in what will hopefully be a series of action/adventure stories involving yours truly as the heroine. These are obviously fictional tales and none of the characters, other than me of course, are real people. This is not my usual type of story; I'm trying something new here, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy it; I certainly had fun writing it. A big thank you to all my fans that have supported me thus far in my endeavors as a writer. I owe all of you a big sloppy gang bang. Love ya! Cat
* * * * *
Jesus, that guy is big, I thought to myself. Sitting in a saloon in the middle of Wyoming somewhere, I was sipping a Coors Lite long neck, glad to be out of the heat. Bellied up to the bar were two good old boys downing shots of something, whiskey no doubt. One of them was 6'5" at least, and no less than 250 lbs. The other was scrawnier looking, like a junk yard dog.
I was on my way to Yellowstone National Park to meet my husband and his partner Joe. They were taking a group of wealthy Japanese businessmen into the backcountry of the park to see wolves and grizzly bears in the wild. Joe and my husband, both wildlife biologists, run a wildlife viewing business. My husband thought I might like to join them, but I think he wanted me there to charm the Japs, a sort of western flavored arm candy. Good for business and all.
I had just spent six weeks at my Uncle Shane's horse and bison ranch outside Laramie, Wyoming, helping him to take care of his terminally-ill wife. When the inevitable happened, Uncle Shane buried his wife of 40 something years in the family cemetery at the back end of his 1000 acre spread.
While I was there, I had a desire to learn how to ride a horse, something I had always wanted to do. One of Uncle Shane's ranch hands, a 20 year old kid named Jesse James (for real), took a liking to me and showed me the ropes, so to speak. Needless to say, I'm no pro, but I can now ride a horse well enough to pass for a local "cowgirl". And Jesse has some "why-older-women-are-better" stories to tell his buddies next time they get together for a few cold ones.
Uncle Shane loaned me an old pickup truck to use to get from Laramie to Yellowstone. Being from the South, I was under the impression states like Wyoming and Montana were cold all year long. I didn't know it got hot here in the summer, like 95 degrees hot! The truck didn't have air conditioning, so I was cooking. I was wearing a sleeveless checkered shirt with no bra, tight Levi's and Frye western boots. I even had my own Stetson.
The cowboys at the bar were getting louder and more obnoxious by the minute. I just wanted to finish my beer, eat my hamburger and fries and then get the hell out. I almost made it. Then, a young Native American girl walked in, probably Shoshone or Lakota. She couldn't have been more than 18, if that. She was pretty, like Hilary Swank pretty. She walked up to the bar and asked the bartender if she could use the phone. Apparently her car had broken down and she wanted to call her brother.
"Well, looky what we got here," said big dude. "What are you doing off the reservation honey? You got permission to be here?"
"It's a free country, I don't need permission. May I use the phone please?"
Before the barkeep could hand her the phone, scrawny dude backhanded the girl across the face and said, "Don't you sass my friend here, you mind your place. Now what's an injun doing in a white man's bar?"
Injun? What century is this? I'm wondering if I'd been magically transported into a John Wayne movie or something; I was hoping the Duke himself would show up soon. Then scrawny dude pushed the girl to the floor and tried to get between her legs. I thought to myself, this can't be happening, I must be dreaming this shit. When the girl smacked scrawny dude across the face, he punched her in the jaw, then big dude grabbed her arms and held them above her head.
Spreading open the top of my shirt to maximize my cleavage, I walked up to the bar and said, "Can I get another whiskey? It's so hot in here I'm about to strip my clothes off."
Somehow, that got scrawny dude's attention. The girl looked to be unconscious; I'm betting he prefers the women he's raping to fight back. The big dude stood up too, leaving the girl lying motionless on the floor.
"Well hey darlin, ain't you a purty thing. Maybe we can buy you that drink."
"Sure thing cowboy. So what's with the little girl there? You don't like women your own age?"
"I like all women honey, young or old."
"Well she's looking as useless as tits on a bull right now. Hey bartender, can you get rid of Pocahontas here, she's blocking the dance floor."
Looking frightened, the bartender took the hint, and came around and, grabbing the girl under her arms, dragged her to a back room, closing the door.
"Speaking of tits, that's a mighty fine lookin set you got on you honey."
"Oh these things? They just get in the way most of the time. Well I'll have that drink, and then be on my way."
"What's the rush? You don't want to sit awhile and talk? You too good for us or something?"
"Now boys, I have to be somewhere before dark, I'll catch you on the return trip next week, how's that?"
Big dude said, "I don't think so, we want to talk now."
Taking scrawny dude's shot glass, I downed the contents in one gulp, then said, "Till next week guys. See ya."
As I turned from the bar to walk away, big dude grabbed the lower half of my shirt and with my momentum still carrying me forward, the buttons popped off, pulling my shirt wide open. I was standing there bare chested, my tits fully exposed to the cowboys.
"Whoa, you were right Travis, those are mighty fine lookin titties. I wonder if they're as firm as they look."
Scrawny dude reached for my left breast and grabbed it, squeezing tightly. I'd had enough of this shit. I knocked his arm away with one hand, and karate punched him in the nose with the other. I heard a crunching sound immediately followed by a scream, and then holding his nose, scrawny fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Blood was spraying everywhere. Big dude looked stunned, like he wasn't expecting a 5'4", 116 lb woman to fight back.
Right after I met my husband, I found out he not only served in the Army during the Viet Nam war, he was a Master Sergeant in the Green Berets. He taught me some self defense moves, but encouraged me to take martial arts classes. I signed up for karate-do lessons with a Japanese master by the name of Masatoshi Nakayama, studying both the Shotokan and Goju-ryu styles of fighting and, 15 years later, I hold a 6th degree black belt in both.
While he was staring at his friend on the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig, I started back peddling toward the door. I silently mouthed to the bartender I wanted him to bring the girl to my truck and he shook his head in the affirmative pointing to a back door. Big dude looked up with rage on his face, and started walking in my direction. I think he may have been growling like a rabid dog too.
"You fucking bitch, we were just gonna have a little fun with you is all. Now you're gonna pay," he said.
I was almost at the doorway when he charged me, like a mad bull. Taking a fighting stance, I waited until the last possible moment, then sidestepped him as he was about to tackle me, roundhouse kicking him on the side of the head. Fortunately it's true what they say about the bigger they are the harder they fall. He hit the counter by the door, knocking it and all its contents, including the cash register, to the floor. He fell on top of the glass and wooden counter, smashing it to pieces.
I took this opportunity to run out the door to my truck. Unlike his friend, I knew big dude wasn't out of the fight yet. I jumped in the truck and cranked it up. Thank god it started right away, because sure enough, big dude was staggering out the saloon door, looking madder than a hornet. Spinning the wheels in reverse, I backed up all the way around the building to the rear, where the bartender was standing with the girl. Fortunately she was awake and alert.
"GET IN!" I shouted.
The girl got in on the passenger side, just as big dude came around the corner. He was running full throttle, and didn't have far to go.
I said to the bartender, "You gonna be okay?"
He pulled a large handgun out of his back pocket and said, "I'll be okay, you better git. By the way, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but you do have a nice rack there. You might want to cover them up though."
I looked down and saw my boobs were still exposed. There were more pressing needs at the moment, so I decided to take the barkeep's advice and 'git'. As I started to pull away, big dude got a hand on the tailgate, and he almost hauled himself into the truck bed. We hit a rather large pot hole, and the truck took a jaw-wrenching bounce, loosening his grip. I floored the gas pedal, sending dirt and gravel flying into big dude's face. He looked like he was about to stroke out.
