Sally Tart admired her scrubbed clean, pale skinned leg as she deep rubbed the scented oil into her thigh, top of her knee n shin before finally into her always soft kept feet. The fancy rain shower in the small room at the Diamond always made her feel special. Sometimes she imagined Lucas Blake was watchin' her as she bathed under the sprinkling water. She'd take extra special care to clean every lucid, milk white inch of her skin; then toy with her raspberry-colored nipples to make 'em as hard as she could. Lucas loved her nipples, the way her nickel sized areola pulled up tite and her nipples grew plump n hard n a bit longer. Her man had learned just how to tease, touch n suckle the hardened tips and the firm flesh under them... Sometimes bringing her to a gentle orgasm by just doin' that.
Lucas was like no other man Sally had ever known.
She'd been enthralled with him since the McCarthy Nite Massacre. She'd been halfway up the whore's stairs when the roar of Smoke Garcias long gun filled what used to be called the 'Rusty Nail', quick ending Buck Michaels life. Jacob Russell shot 'Little Stevie' in the face when the bartender had been foolish enough to reach for the flint lock pistol always hid under the bar. When Mark James stepped into the fray with his gun drawn: Lucas was standing tall, Walker Colt drawn n without flinching, sent him backwards through the bat wing doors he'd just come through. The very young n new 'Kid Childress' were sent to hell by Smoke n Jacob even with both his pistols drawn. She hadn't really seen the how, other than the two men firing what sounded like the same shot; her hard held breath n wide eyes never leaving Lucas as he tried, convicted n then killed Irish Mike McCarthy.
Even now, she could close her eyes and see the black n blue layered smoke, hear the explosions of gun fire and smell death around her as Lucas slow holstered that Walker Colt. She loved the trembling that ran through her body n the prickling of her skin as she'd relived that moment in time again n again.
When she had met his pale green eyes, there were nothing said. She simply stepped down the stairs, went behind the bar n steppin' over Little Stevie's lifeless body, set a glass and then filled it with the best the bar had to offer.
She could still feel the excitement between her prized cream-colored thighs n deep inside her taut skinned belly...
Lucas had the patience of a much older man n the wantin' of a man ten years younger, same as he did back then. He were soft spoken unless circumstance called for something more. Miss Molly from back east had known Lucas. The two women would often compare experiences when Lucas sent her back east to learn from the elegant Madame. Though Miss Molly had been forbidden to share herself with him; She learned about Lucas through her whores n one special gal, 'Ada', that near captured Lucas Blake's heart. Greed had ruined that relationship. Sally seldom thought about that fact other then swearing she'd never let him down with such foolish behaviors.
If Lucas had stayed there, or worse, brought the dark-haired beauty home with him...
Closing her eyes from the reflections in her own room, Sally let her oiled fingers gently stroke her smooth, bare pussy. She often bemoaned the act of having Tiffany Ann perform the fairly new ritual. She needed Tiff to think ( n possibly tell Lucas ) she hated it. It was one of her secrets from her 'sister'.
Sally loved making everything Lucas suggested come to life. Whether it was while they were wrapped up in each other's arms or during those long, thoughtful talks. Every new experience in their shared lives thrilled Sally Tart.
He'd nuzzle her neck, nip at her ear lobe or the top of her shoulders as they shared those intimate talks, their eyes always returning to hold each other's. Sometimes their talks would grow into spirited tones when they spoke over dinner or drinks; most always ending with Sally on her back with her pretty toes pointed straight up in the air or her whimpering face buried tite against the pillows.
She honestly felt that she knew more about Lucas than Tiffany Ann did: maybe as much as his wife Linda Jean. They'd discovered so much about each other's wants n hidden deep desires.
Sally Tart had listened well to Miss Molly and did many of the things she learned at the original Diamond Club back East. The much older woman had let her discretely watch as she dealt with many of her very 'select clients' as she referred to them. Many times, the nude painting of Miss Molly's longtime departed lover Ruth would be raised from the narrow hall between rooms so someone special could enjoy the goings on in Miss Molly's or others bedroom.
Sally's own room n the rain shower had that same style hallway but very, very few knew about it.
She'd seen the cultivated, sophisticated woman punish a 'unruly boy', a man who cheats on his wife and once blackmail a late-night window peeper. She also saw that same woman welcome back a long-lost son or take the place of a dearly loved lost wife...
Sally often watched n always learned. The most important lesson: gatherin' information. Sally took note of what books Lucas read n would often ask to share them. The once teacher had always loved to read. Lucas Blake allowed her a lifelong library to enjoy that desire.
And she did.
They'd share thoughts n feelin's on most of what they read. He even gifted her several books that should never be found in a man's library of a highly respected gentlemen of Lucas Blake's stature.
The only subject truly closed between 'em were the ranch. Nothing were ever asked by Sally n rarely shared by Lucas. When he did pose a thoughtful question, a well thought out, reasonin' answer would be offered. She once toyed with an answer for near two days, but when she did answer, a beautiful new necklace she knew was meant for someone else decorated her long, sensitive neck...
------ 0 ------
As Blue readied the Pinto for a new day, he took note of a far-off smoke trail. Not much drifted through the early morning sky, most lost in the growin' shades of blue, but enough to tell the young man someone had little fear of being seen or were just plain foolish. This were the open plains, home to the Sioux, Crow and farther south the Comanche.
"I'm thinkin' a damn fool is sittin' a bit north n maybe five miles east horse. Mite be worth lookin' into before someone else does. You never know."
The Pinto scuffed the ground under it n then bobbed its head. Blue chuckled.
"Glad you agree."...
Not to long movin' along and the warmin' sun were high, Blue could see clear the wagon and small tent in the not to far off. He took note the wagon were tilted back n right, suggesting some kind of problem. Two barrels were sittin' behind with a makeshift ramp comin' down from its open tail gated rear. Several wood crates were stacked around. One three stack of those crates held a clothes hanging rope half-filled between it n the wagon.
A heavy woman with ripe apple colored hair moved around a small fire. Her pale skin showed the first color from the risin' sun. Wide hipped n heavy breasted, a worn chamois struggled to protect her pale skin from that sun. She never took note of Blue until he were well in calling out range.
"Hello in the camp!"
The gal looked up n let out a small shriek before trying to hide all that white turning pink skin from the young man's eyes as she backed up towards the tent. Blue waved as he turnet the Pinto away,
"Sorry Ma'am. I meant no harm."
Her fussin' words drifted to n then past him. Blue thought of Red Bird Singing, his adopted mother. She were heavy. The young man felt a twinge from somewhere deep inside.
"It-its okay now..."
Slow turning to once again look to the wagon n tent, Blue saw the woman, her back turned away from him now wearing a long grey dress as her hands were busy in front of her. He slow eased the Pinto closer.
"I meant no harm Ma'am."
"N-no harm done."
She slow turned to face him, her eyes dartin' away from his to the long gun held tight in front of her n then back again. Blue held his hands shoulder high.
