I got a late start on my way down to Laredo so I split the trip at a cheap hotel near the airport in Fort Stockton. Something was going on, because the parking lot was full for a change. I had been running the fence line all day, so I was ready for a break from the truck. I checked in, threw my bag on the floor, but didn't even change clothes yet. I needed a drink.
I groaned as I entered the hotel bar. The last thing I was looking for was a Halloween party. Well, maybe the third from last thing, after karaoke and trivia night. I had just come downstairs for a quiet drink, but instead I had to zig-zag my way up to a barstool, jostled between costumed locals, all of whom were well on their way to getting wasted. They were loud. I almost walked back out. But I really wanted that drink.
And then I saw Elvira across the room.
Damn, she looked perfect. The hair, the cleavage, the make-up. I couldn't see the slit in her black dress with the crowd of guys standing around, but I would see it soon enough. I watched her as I waited for my whiskey. I smiled at the generous pour, then kept my eye on her across the top of my glass. She had already noticed me. One of the pussies beside her was running on about something but her eyes were locked on mine.
It may not be unusual out here in west Texas to see a cowboy in a black hat, black shirt, worn jeans, and weathered face. But I'm bigger than most, and tend to come across as meaner, and it's not the first time a woman with big tits got distracted by me staring her down.
She wasn't about to make the first move, and neither of us were rushing it, but the game had already started. I smiled as she turned towards her fanboys and gave them a silly giggle and started touching herself on the shoulder and pulling on her hair. She dialed up the flirting and I knocked back the rest of the drink and ordered another. Not for her, I don't do that bullshit. Just for me.
I sipped the second one and watched her trying not to steal glances at me. She tugged at her dress and showed a little more tit. And even though I was staring at her face, the light wasn't great, and it had been a very long time, so I didn't recognize her. I just decided that I wanted to fuck her. With that settled, I got tired of the game. I dropped the second empty glass down and told the bartender I wanted the rest of the bottle. Then I paid up, took the bottle, and walked in her direction.
There were three pussy-whipped men around her now, each one thinking they had a shot. I figured she wasn't a working girl or she would have already taken one of them or all three to the men's room or the parking lot. Not that it would have mattered much to me either way, but I would prefer not to pay for it.
When I walked up, they all started with that "who the fuck are you" look, until I gave them a look back. The look from that country song,
"... I can see you starin', honey
Like he's just your understudy
Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me..."
Skinny Elvis was the first to back off, pretending he needed to go take a leak. The guy in a purple wig just took a step back, then two more steps, which just left me and, no shit, the Lone Ranger. I looked down and started laughing at him, because it was genuinely hilarious, and he got pissy about it but I guess it wasn't worth getting his face all torn up under that mask. In less than twenty seconds, it was just her and me.
I was standing too close to her, in her space. I looked down and locked back onto her eyes, suddenly getting an uneasy feeling, like when you fucked a girl before and it didn't end well. But that wasn't exactly it. And I knew the moment she opened her mouth and said, "Well look what the wolves drug in."
There's only one woman on the planet who ever said that, and I saw it then. Underneath the black hair and painted cheekbones, I didn't need to do the math to know that it had been fifteen years and three months since she kissed me goodnight and left me to be raised by her parents on the Bar KL ranch. This was my mother looking back up at me with her lips parted and her pupils dilated and her chest breathing heavy enough for her tits to be rising and falling while I felt the cost of all one hundred and eighty three months rushing through my head, but not showing a dime of it on my face.
Of all the times I had rehearsed what I would say to her if I ever saw her again, this was not the set-up for any of them. She didn't recognize me of course. So much for a mother's intuition. But she had never been that much of a mother even when she was home. She had me at sixteen, and her parents were doing all the hard work anyway. But I had fifteen years of angry built up in me, loaded for bear. Only problem was, this wasn't a bear standing in front of me. It was a big-eyed doe.
My silence as all this rushed through my head was paying off in the anticipation that was building up in hers. She was almost squirming. And she moved her leg into that famous slit, and slid it between mine as she leaned in closer.
So close, she had to look even further up at me to watch my face. The whites of her eyes, only a little bloodshot from the booze, showed me what she would look like in the middle of a blow job, looking up to see if she was pleasing me. And even now, she was pleasing me.
"Are you a real cowboy, or is this just a costume?"
"What do you think?"
"You smell like a real cowboy." It wasn't an insult.
"Should I get my rope from the truck? Would that convince you?"
She skipped a beat at the thought of that. But then she almost whispered, "Only if you know how to use it."
I thought about it. I even thought about the branding iron behind the seat. Wouldn't that be something? Tying her up. Branding her ass with the name of the ranch she ran away from. I considered it. I pictured it. And in that moment, I reconciled all those feelings swirling around in my head with the throbbing going on in my jeans. And I knew I was going to fuck my way through all this.
Maybe it was the costume, but this wasn't about incest or taboo for me. I didn't give a fuck about society and right and wrong. I didn't have any notions of the awe or irony about crawling back into the pussy that pushed me out. I just knew that my anger needed an outlet and God himself had just given me the perfect one. But I also knew that however I drove out of here in the morning would determine what kind of man I was going to be down the road.
"I don't think I'll need it. You look like the kind of girl who does what she's told."
I handed her the bottle. "You might want another drink."
She took a good swig and handed it back. Good enough. I wanted her conscious, but not able to focus. I didn't want her waking up to all her bullshit in the middle of what I was about to start.
"Follow me," I told her, and didn't wait to see if she did. But the pout on the Lone Ranger's face as I walked past him told me everything I needed to know.
She stepped in the elevator with me as I pressed the button for the third floor. She stepped to the far side, watching me watching her in the mirrored door. She posed for me, the leg again, the tits, the neck.
"Are you wearing panties?"