Summary: Johnny on an Errand for Lancer Encounters an Interesting Lady 😉
Warning: Adult Situations – Inspired by Meeting the Man Himsel!
Forecast: Cold Showers Recommended
Usual Disclaimers Apply
Word count: 7,261
Slow ride, take it easy – Slow ride, take it easy,
Slow ride, take it easy – Slow ride, take it easy.
I’m in the mood, the rhythm is right,
Move to the music, we can roll all night.
Ooh, ooh, slow ride – ooh, ooh
Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy – Slow ride, take it easy
Slow down, go down, got to get your lovin’ one more time
Hold me, roll me, slow ridin’ woman you’re so fine – woo!
I’m in the mood, the rhythm is right,
Move to the music yea, we can roll all night, yea – ooh, ooh
Slow ride, take it easy – Slow ride, take it easy
Slow down, go down, got to get your lovin’ one more time
Hold me, roll me, slow ridin’ woman you’re so fine
Slow ride, easy, slow ride
Slow ride, easy, slow ride
Nod of appreciation to Foghat and the perfect song for the deed to be done…JML style.
Johnny rode into the small town of Hayward, about 200 miles south of Lancer. Weary after three days in the saddle, sleeping on the hard ground under the stars with meals of jerky and beans, he had pushed himself and Barranca to arrive early to avoid one more night on the trail. He needed something cold to drink but a sniff indicated a hot bath was first in order, he rubbed his hand across his face and scratched the itchy growth; a shave would be nice too. He knotted Barranca’s reins to the hitching rail in front of the Royal Hotel. With a light slap to Barranca’s flank he flipped his saddlebags over his shoulder; next an affectionate pat to Barranca’s forelock followed with a lump of sugar. For which Barranca whinnied in gratitude at the sweet offering, he nudged Johnny’s shoulder looking for more.
“Yeah, you’re a good boy. Give me a minute ta check in ta the hotel and I’ll get ya settled for the night, huh? A stable with fresh oats tonight boy instead of the prairie grass. Boy! Ain’t we a pair, we’re gettin’ soft, better not tell anyone.”
Barranca’s head bobbed up and down as if he was in complete agreement with his rider.
Johnny laughed, “Oh right, oh right, I know what ya want.” He pulled out another lump of sugar, gave his amigo one more quick pat and then Johnny stepped up onto the boardwalk.
“No more for now, ya’ll ruin ya dinner!” Barranca nickered and stomped his front hoof. Johnny snickered and quickly turned away, in a rush to get his room and then tend to Barranca’s needs before his.
He nearly bumped into a pair of ladies that were crossing his pathway; they all stopped abruptly in their tracks. Johnny tipped his hat to the pretty little filly, decked out in pale blue satin gown and white lace trim, her long curled tresses fell below her shoulders that enticingly swished side to side when she turned her head. She giggled behind her ornate fan that she leisurely waved to stir the breeze. Her stern much older appearing companion frowned; her facial lines were almost as deep as Murdoch’s were when he scowled at Johnny in frustration. The heavy-set lady mouth flapped open, he multiple double chins jiggled as she made a sound that indicated her displeasured at the interruption in her life. She tugged on the pretty filly’s sleeve, and simultaneously looked down her elongated skinny nose, nostrils twitching, more than likely after getting a full whiff of Johnny.
Johnny chuckled as he realized her that her nose was the only skinny part on her. He wondered if she was taken, knowing Jelly, preferred women with “meat on their bones”. Maybe he’d asked around since this one had plenty to share and then some. And he knew that Jelly was overdue for a new special gal in his life, since Angeline had proven to be a schemer, taken off to jail, last they had heard. “Maybe this one was in need of a man ta put a smile on her grumpy ol’ face.”
The matronly woman gasped at the effrontery displayed by that rude, rough, dusty cowboy, who starred with open interest at her much younger and prettier companion. She practically howled in dismay as she clutched a large basket in her other hand and managed to draw her skirts back, like he would trampled on her long black skirts. Johnny had learned to avoid long skirts at all costs while wearing spurs. He had no intention of getting close to the old bat…now the pretty little filly…he wouldn’t mind getting close to her at all. He hoped he didn’t stink too badly.
“Good mornin’, miss?” Johnny asked with a hopeful question, bent slightly at the waist to display his good manners. He recognized that the old lady, “probably her ol’ ma”, was irked by his appearance or his aroma or maybe both. “Can’t be helped…been on the friggerin’ trail for days, not a wet waterin’ hole ta be found ta take a bath. I guess I’m a mite ripe at that. Hope the little filly doesn’t mind. She’s at least smilin’ behind that fan of hers. Her eyes are shinin’, real pretty like.”
He brushed at the dirt on his faded red shirt, still smiling. “I clean-up, ma’am,” he said to the flustered woman, her black shoes began to click away from him. “Ya’ll come back in another hour and I’ll be smellin’ sweeter than honeydew on a hot day,” he promised.
“Come along, Clementine, we mustn’t keep your father waiting. You know how he is if he’s delayed with having his lunch,” she yanked on the younger female’s hand whose feet seemed rooted to the boardwalk.
Clementine looked at the dusty cowboy with ravenous eyes, over the top of her fan, which batted fetchingly at the young man. Her eyes were the windows to her soul; she looked like she wanted to devour Johnny. Johnny was not able to see that behind her fan she was licking her lips, her teeth slightly parted but then he too was intrigued by the pretty gal. He wanted to whistle but didn’t dare, thinking that the old woman would turn on him and smack him with the wicket basket she was holding.
“Clementine,” Johnny thought as his eyes lingered on her. “Pretty name, fits a pretty lady. Bet the old woman’s called something like Gertrude or Bertha or Olive, she sure looks like she swallowed a sour pickle or has a bad case of constipation, with her face all pinched up.”
Clementine allowed herself to be pulled, as if she were in a trance. She was too busy drinking in the lean cowboy; every square inch of him was intimately inspected, including the swelling that was growing, stretching at the fabric of his crotch. She was too preoccupied with the dark striking looks of the handsome man to be aware of the approaching stairs at the end of the boardwalk. For Clementine’s head was plum near turned around as far as she could turn it, her slender, alabaster neck craned to keep her bewitchingly green eyes upon the cowboy in the form fitting silver adorned pants. She wanted to purr but didn’t dare do so.
Johnny boldly smirked at her brazen appraisal of his male assets, he was well aware of the effects those green eyes had on his expanding rig. If she didn’t stop staring soon, he would need to remove his hat to conceal the hardening bulge…which was becoming more anxious to escape the snug fastenings to seek relief.
“LOOK OUT!” he yelled.
But the warning came too late for Clementine had lost her balance and fell off the boardwalk, landing in a heap of skirts and contents of her mother’s upended basket. Her mother’s foot made contact with one of the rolling oranges, which knocked her down alongside Clementine in a secondary heap of skirts followed with unladylike screeches that filtered through the air.
Johnny knew only one other female who could turn the air blue and that was ten-year old Pony Alice. Hearing the string of cussing from the old lady was quite a revelation. He couldn’t recollect any other “lady” he knew could or would swear like this one was, at least not out in public.
Johnny kicked several oranges out of his way, he bent over to assist Clementine to her feet, “Miss Clementine, are ya alright?” His hands began to brush the dust from the folds of her skirts; at first, he did not realize that he had swept his hands down the soft curved mounds of her backside that is until he heard more piercing shrieks.
“What in the hell do you think you are doing? Take your filthy damn hands away from my daughter’s person this instance! Do you hear me? You dirty, mangy, filthy rotten, stinking trail bum! Get away from her! HOW DARE YOU!”
Johnny stopped mid-stroke, as he looked at the fetching Clementine. She was blushing ever so pleasingly; her cheeks had an appealing pink glow and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards while her white-laced fingers attempted to conceal her wide smile. It was a losing proposition as Johnny found himself smiling back.
Johnny was mesmerized. He raised his shoulders in a shrug, “Didn’t mean any disrespect, Miss Clementine. Tryin’ ta help, that’s all.”
She giggled, her green eyes shone bright, “No harm done, Mr..uhh…Mr…I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Lancer, Johnny Lancer.”
He reached down to aid the older woman to her feet, “Lancer as in Murdoch Lancer of Morro Coyo?” she asked, and her eyes squinted in sharp appraisal at the grubby cowboy. She viewed him a tad bit differently now that he had announced his name. She knew very well that Murdoch Lancer was one of the biggest and wealthiest land owners in the state and that he had two sons. If this was one of them, her day was improving, so too could her station in life if she played her cards right. And Clementine was the deck she intended to play since this Johnny Lancer had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker. “He was smitten by the charms of Clementine, many yet to be revealed…all in good time,” she schemed.
“Yes ma’am. He’s my father.”
“Oh my! I do declare, Mr. Lancer, I hope you will not think poorly of my asinine outburst. I’m only a mother concerned about my daughter’s reputation. As a mother I must always make certain that my daughter remain pure as the driven snow until her wedding night.”
“MOTHER!” Clementine’s face turned beet red as her hand flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes had grown wide with shock.
“Yes ma’am,” Johnny nodded. “I gotcha ya drift. But are ya alright? I mean, Miss Clementine and ya took a pretty hard fall. Did ya hurt anything?”
His blue eyes were the most startling shade of blue she had ever seen, along with perfectly white straight teeth, and two small dimples that appeared when he smiled. He was without doubt the “prettiest thing in pants, she had ever set eyes upon, oh to only be thirty years younger.”
“Mr. Lancer, I’m perfectly okay, it’s my daughter I’m concerned about. You best tend to her, make sure she didn’t twist an ankle or break a bone, she’s exceptionally delicate.”
“Well, now ain’t she whistlin’ a different tune, after catchin’ my name. Fat old biddy,” Johnny thought but wisely did not voice. “Yes ma’am,” he said touching his fingers to his hat brim.
“Mr. Lancer, would you be as kind as to carry Clementine over to the doctor’s office? I would like for him to exam her. We wouldn’t want her to suffer any, now would we?” she orchestrated her instructions with the ease of a slick traveling drummer, selling his brand of snake oil to unsuspecting gullible fools.
Luckily, Johnny Lancer was nobody’s fool. But the offer to be close to the charming Miss Clementine was too tempting to pass by and well, he did feel partially responsible for her falling down the stairs. With both of them starring at each other and such, he could have warned her earlier if he hadn’t been smiling at her watching him.
The older lady shook the dust from her gown, which proved to be a losing battle, as swirls of dust motes continued to appear from the countless hidden folds of her long dress and billowed from the volumes of excess fabric to cover her ample girth. Her hat was skewed cock-eyed upon her head, two long pheasant feathers bobbed into her face, which she brushed at in an attempt to conceal her other hand’s downward motion to her daughter, hoping that Clementine would grasp her intention to fall back down in a fabricated faint. For here was a knight, albeit, a knight in dusty red armor, but with flashes of silver running down the legs of those delicious skin tight pants that show-off his male goods.
The woman for a moment, wondered how in the world, the young man could mount his horse in those taut britches. Her notions quickly switched to the idea that here was her sure fired ticket to endless wealth, standing before her and Clementine, if only the girl grasped the situation at hand and stopped mooning over the man. She signaled with her eyes to Clementine, and was not exactly subtle with her downwards head bob.
Johnny couldn’t help but spot her obvious signals, not much escaped his attention, subtle or not. He canted his head at Clementine, boldly winking at her with a cheeky smile. “If ya sure, ma’am that ya are alright, I’d be pleased ta take Miss Clementine ta the doctor’s office. That is if someone assists ya.”
“Mr. Lancer, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own needs. You go on…I’ll be along directly…I need to pick-up my husband’s lunch and see if anything can be salvaged. Clementine, direct young Mr. Lancer to Dr. Fletcher’s office…now go on…scoot.”
“It’s Johnny, ma’am,” he said as he scooped Clementine into his arms.
Clementine leaned her head against his chest and felt his chest muscles move under his faded shirt, she fearlessly squeezed one of his upper arms, “My, my, Johnny, what rock-hard muscles you have. You are so strong!”
“Miss Clementine, ya shouldn’t try ta be so temptin’ what with those green eyes are yours, starring up into my…”
“Perfectly twinkling blue eyes, the color of Texas blue bonnets in the early morning dew,” she sighed then nestled her head tighter into his chest, if that was at all possible.
“What do ya know about Texas blue bonnets?” he laughed as he crossed the street with his light bundle cradled in his arms.
“Why, Johnny, I was born and reared in Texas, grew up wild like them. As a child I would run barefoot through large fields of blue bonnets and picked hundreds of their blossoms to bring home to mother.”
“Ya expect me ta believe that ya ran barefoot and wild, do ya?”
“I solemnly swear, I did.”
“Sure would have liked to have seen ya, all wild and barefoot. Seems ta be that ya lost the wild part, all gussied up like ya are now,” he laughed.
“That’s only because my father inherited money from his grandfather. I was sent to a fancy girls’ school in San Francisco, where I was educated in how to behave like a proper young lady should. But deep down inside I’m still that wild little girl from Texas.”
“If ya say so, Miss Clementine. Here’s the doctor office, let’s see if he finds anything wrong with ya, ‘cos I sure can’t.”
“You don’t believe me,” she pouted. “Tonight, come to my house, at the far edge of town. Bring along a spare horse and I’ll prove it to you, Mr. Johnny Lancer. I’ll run wild with you in the moonlight.”
“Well, I don’t know what ya ma would think about that or ya pa.”
“I’ll sneak out and they won’t even know I’m gone.”
Johnny leaned down to her upturned face, her small pert nose was adorable, her green eyes intense and her smile tempting. He planted a soft kiss upon those inviting rose colored lips, which parted and her pink tongue was abruptly probing his mouth with immense urgency. A low moan escaped from the back of her delicate, creamy throat. Johnny felt his manhood spring back to life, with escalating pressure.
“Little lady, seems ta me ya might be more than familiar with the ropes than I figured.”
“You could say that I’ve taken a few moonlight rides before, Johnny. I know what rope goes where.”
“I’ll bet ya do. I reckon, ya folks don’t know that ya might have already been plucked.”
“Shhh.” She pressed her index finger against his mouth. “That’s our little secret. You come fetch me at 10:00pm, the back room on the left as you look at the rear of the house. I’ll take you on a ride, like you’ve never been on before.”
“Miss Clementine, I do believe ya tryin’ ta corrupt me.”
She tilted her head back and laughed, it was musical, low, sultry and husky, laced with all the yearnings of the most basic nature that exist between a man and a woman, “It’s Clem to you, Johnny.”
She ran her hand down below the folds of her satin dress and placed it directly against his leather calzoneras. She rubbed slowly…up then down…against the front of his pants, smiling wantonly as his swelling harden. Johnny gulped, she might look every bit like a lady, but she had the sure fired hand actions of a…well…a soiled dove. Clementine was holding all his cards in her left hand. He was a goner for sure.
Johnny whispered in her ear, “Better stop that Clem, unless ya want me ta toss ya over the doctor’s table and examine ya myself.”
“A little poke here and a little poke there,” she grinned, licking her lips similar to a cat with cream on its whiskers, “Never harmed anyone, Johnny.”
“Won’t be a little poke, Clem, I promise ya that. Now stop, I hear ya somebody coming.” With that he twisted the knob and opened the door to the doctor’s office, which caused a bell to chime over their heads. He deposited Clem on the table in the middle of the office. Johnny whisked his hat off to use as a protective shield from Clem’s probing eyes as the doctor appeared from the back of the building. He gulped once as his eyes roamed elsewhere in the office.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ward. What brings you to my office?”
Johnny looked squarely at the doctor hoping it would help decrease his swelling, “Her ma will be here directly, both of them fell off the stairs over yonder. Her ma wanted her ta be examined, make sure nothin’ was busted.”
“I see, and you are?”
“Late, I need ta be goin’. See ya ‘round Miss Clementine,” Johnny backed up towards the door, did an about face, opened the door and stepped to the side to allow Mrs. Ward access to the small office.
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Lancer. You have been most helpful. You must allow me to thank you properly later,” she gushed.
“Yeah, sure, later, Mrs. Ward. Now if ya’ll excuse me, I have some errands ta take care of. Miss Clementine I hope ya feel better, soon.”
“Bye, Johnny!” she giggled.
He stepped outside the door and shut it firmly behind him, breathing deeply, before he put his hat back on, now that the pressure had eased from the front of his pants. “Scott will never believe this,” he thought as he made a minor adjustment to his tight calzoneras. “Dios! I don’t believe it!”
Johnny relaxed in the steaming hot bath, while the barber gave him a shave. He drank his whiskey between George’s scraping at his three-day old beard and wiping off the cut whiskers and soap to a towel.
“What do ya know about the Wards?” Johnny pondered, leaning his head back against the rim of the tub.
“The Wards?” He paused as he raked the sharp straight-back razor across Johnny’s face. “They arrived in town oh ‘bout six months back. Eber Ward took over running the bank.”
“No, haven’t met him. I’m interested in the mother. What does she do?”
“You mean beside brow-beat her husband? Or spend his money like it was going out of style?”
Johnny guffawed at the picture George was painting of the woman and her spouse. He could have guessed this much. “Ol’ Jelly was out of luck again, probably a good thing.”
George paused from his task to add, “You best be very careful of her, son. Bertha tries to push her “ahhh daughter” off on anyone with money or a solid family name.”
“Bertha! That suits her perfectly!”Johnny sat up straight in the tub, “What do ya mean, “ahhh daughter”, George?”
“Oh, I see you have already met the esteemed Mrs. Ward and her “ahhh daughter”. Told you she’s been away in San Francisco at a school, right?”
“Yeah. So what? Go on.”
George looked over his shoulder, for what reason, Johnny couldn’t imagine, it was just him and George inside his barber shop.
“Clementine’s one of those for hired girls,” he whispered, his eyes darted around the room as if he was part of a conspiracy being hatched.
“What are ya talkin’ about, George?”
“I don’t like to speak out of turn…”
“Go on,” Johnny prompted him.
“Well…Mizzus Ward used to run a bordello in Fort Worth. She married Eber Ward, who as far as anyone can tell is honest as the day is long as far as operating the bank. Near as we can figure, she neglected to tell him what she had done for a living prior to marrying the man, who inherited his money. It’s Mizzus Ward who sent for Clementine a few months back. She told everyone that Clementine is their daughter who was away at school. Turns out that she was one of the girls at the Mizzus Ward former business endeavor, seems like our Sheriff remembers seeing her there all gussied up. I heard tell that Clementine was her favorite fancy girl because of her refined manners and such.”
“I knew it! I just knew something was up with Clem, she kissed me liked she knew what she was doin’ with the promises of more ta come. Damn! I knew she was ta good ta be true!”
“From what I’ve heard, Clementine is very good at her trade.”
Johnny chuckled at George’s comment; he knew others that were very good at their trade too, “So why does Mr. Ward go along with this? I mean if he’s on the level?”
“The extra money, I reckon. The Wards like to spend it on luxury items. You know the type, the ones who want to have the biggest, grandest and the most lavish everything just to show-off to others.”
“Yup, I know of a few. So you’re sayin’ he likes ta have his cake and eat it too?”
“That’s right, but more so the Mizzus, you’ve seen the size of the woman. She’s a glutton in the worst way, if you put a pig into a fancy outfit, it’s still a pig. And if that was you I saw carrying Clementine to the doctor’s., then Mizzus Ward probably played you as her fresh mark. Better hold tight to your wallet. Every time the old lady smells a new prospect, she scuttles Clementine to the doctor’s to get herself fixed up with one of those new fangled female sponges, so’s not to have any babies, if you get my drift.”
“Oh does she?” Johnny leaned back in the tub, his glass now empty, “So what you’re tellin’ me is that the old lady got a side business that everybody in town knows about. Why the hell doesn’t she just stick Clementine into one of the rooms over the saloon and let her make a killin’? The little gal’s got a fast pair of hands on her, and a probing tongue.”
“Beats me, unless Mizzus Ward is looking for a real big one to snare permanently. Seeing as how you’re a Lancer she might think she’s found herself a grubstake to her own private El Dorado mine.”
“Not by a long shot,” grinned Johnny. “Just ‘cos we have one of the biggest spreads around, everyone thinks we’re rollin’ in clover. Nope, there’s a lot of blood, sweat and back-breakin’ labor goes into runnin’ the ranch. And there’s a three-way partnership between my pa, my brother and me. We don’t aim ta give any of it away ta any land grabbers, not by a long shot. Even if they’re wearin’ satin and lace and petticoats and smell fancy.”
“So what are you fixing to do about Mizzus Ward?”
“Not a damn thing. But Clem, now her I need ta think about. Maybe I’ll tend ta my business and head home.”
“Which is what?”
“Sorry, George, don’t take it the wrong way…but Lancer business ain’t any of yours.”
“None took, Mr. Lancer. But Hayward is a small town and word does get around.”
“True, but not from me.”
Johnny left the barber shop to have a decent hot meal at the boarding house diner. He then sauntered inside The First Chance Saloon, the town’s premier watering hole, hell; it was the only watering hole in town. Johnny observed the locals in action but there wasn’t much, but then again it was only Wednesday. Most saloons typically were pretty quiet until Friday nights when cowhands got paid and were looking for a place to spend it.
A few tables were occupied with card games, but Johnny had no interest in playing cards, and the stakes scattered on the tables were nickels and dimes…chump change. He straddled a chair in the far corner table, ordered a bottle with a clean glass. He poured; bottle neck clinked against the glass as he watched the firewater spill into the glass.
Johnny did not plan to overindulge with the tequila, just one or two glasses to ease the aches and pains from three days in the saddle. Tomorrow he had to ride to the Double D ranch to negotiate prices on some bulls Murdoch wanted to sell to his old friend, Dusty Devers, who was looking to increase the blood lines of his stock. Johnny had drawn the short straw to make this trip; however, in his mind it was better than reviewing old land plats for the upcoming survey that Scott was stuck with over-seeing. He smirked at his thoughts turned to Clementine and her very lusty tongue that she had managed to maneuvered deep inside his mouth with the promise of more.
Thinking of which, he noticed the lady in question, through the bar window as she crossed the street, her walk was one of purpose. Her “mother” was nowhere in sight, which he thought was odd but then again the whole episode with them had been both weird and wonderful. Johnny watched while Clem in all her satin and lace finery push open the batwings and stepped inside, without hesitation on her part. The doors swung on their noisy hinges a few times before stopping, he noted as he watched her.
Clem checked the room before her eyes rested upon Johnny in the far corner. She smiled as she sashayed to his table, her hips swayed enticingly and he could only imagine from the rear what she looked like. Clem’s bosom gently rose up then down with a slight jiggle from her Merry Widow that had pushed her silky white breasts upwards. His crotch began to throb with escalating desire and he reluctantly got to his feet, knowing that she was well aware of her effect on his manhood. Her eyes were starring right at it, which was how he knew that she knew.
“Johnny…may I join you?”
He looked around her, “Where’s ya ma?”
She titled back her head and laughed with gusto, “I guess by now you know that she’s not my mother. I know you were over at George’s. Everyone knows he’s the biggest busybody around. I can only imagine what he filled you in about me and Mrs. Ward.”
Johnny pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit, which she did and removed her frilly, laced gloves. Her hands were beautiful, long fingers, with slightly curved nails, not a speck of dirt under them. Johnny reached for one and turned her hand over in his, there wasn’t a callous either, just smooth and delicate. Her hand was soft and warm in his.
“Come ta think about it, old George did mention some mighty interestin’ tales,” he grinned. “Ya want something ta drink, Clem?”
Johnny stepped to the bar and got another glass; walking back to his table he watched as Clem removed her equally frilly hat and patted her hair back into place. Stepping behind her, he ran the back of his index finger along the base of her neck and twirled a strand of hair around his fingers, the glossy texture felt supple in his hand.
“That feels nice, Johnny.”
He sat down and poured her a small drink, not exactly sure where this was going; he knew where he wanted it to head…naked and in a sweat in his hotel room, rumpled sheets and all. His swollen groin pressed against his calzoneras from one simple little connection of her skin and hair. He took a drink, swallowed and waited for her to make the next move.
Clem sipped her drink, she licked the drops of tequila from her lips with practiced ease while her green eyes bored into his blue orbs; her hand caressed his leg, moved slowly, teasingly up, his taut leg muscles that slightly twitched as she probed higher. Johnny grabbed her hand, squeezed it firmly before she dared to stroke him further. “She’s really bad but in a real good way.”
“What precisely did George divulge to you?”
“Enough ta know that I’m not showin’ up at your place at ten tonight for no moonlight ride with ya,” he laughed but his eyes were serious. He traced the back of his index finger down one cheekbone over her full lips and up the other cheekbone. “If ya want ta be tossed on your backside by me for a different kind of ride that I have in mind, it will be on my terms and not ya “ma’s”. Ya got that, my darlin’ Clementine?”
She tilted the glass back and finished the drink, pushing it towards him for a refill. “Yes, Johnny. Do you want to know why the game?”
“No. I don’t need ta know why. Everyone does what they need ta do in order ta get along in this ol’ world. I ain’t never been anybody’s fool, don’t plan ta start with ya or Mrs. Ward. I’ll tell ya straight up, there’ll be no strings or commitments, no baby makin’, no nothin’ but some really hard and fast ridin’ before we get ta any slow ones.” He starred at her watching her eyes for any tell-tale reaction. She held firm to his eyes.
“I don’t want any false tears, no hangin’ on when I leave. And nobody but us in the room. I’ll promise ya, I’ll put a real big smile on your face if ya do the same for me. As long as the good doc fixed ya with one of those female devices then I’m all for pokin’ ya all night long. Just two people enjoyin’ each other and spendin’ the night, that’s all. Ya understand?”
She smiled, “You betcha darlin’. The moment I saw you my head has been swirling in circles with the notion of your stiff ramrod poking me until I can’t walk or see straight.”
Johnny grinned, “Let’s go, Clem.” He grabbed the neck of the tequila bottle and her hand in one of his. With the other hand he tossed a coin to the bartender before they made their way to Johnny’s hotel room.
His room was like the hundreds Johnny had been in before, a brass bed, washstand with bowl and pitcher and cracked mirror over a dresser. The curtains moved in the evening breeze through the opened window. Johnny locked the door and placed the one straight-back chair under the knob…force of habit…as a precaution from being interrupted by the counterfeit mother or anyone else who had a mind ta barge in on them. He was always cautious, more so when someone thought they could pull a fast one on him.
He looked out the window which faced the street, his first choice always; this hotel had no balcony, which meant no visitors could sneak in through the window while he was sleeping or engaged in a moment of passion. Turning around he watched as Clem sank to the bed to unhook her high top boots. Johnny sat down next to her and lifted her legs across his lap. He slowly, methodically unlaced the right boot, tossed it to the floor. She moaned low and lustily as he ran his hands under her skirts, up her leg to roll down her stocking, held in place by a pink ruffled garter. His fingertips lingered on the back of her knee, stroking the inside, running his finger pads up higher and higher, teasing her for a change.
He knew that he could just take her here and now without removing a single layer of her clothing since his fingers had brushed against her drawers and her pelvis. One article of clothing that afforded all men easy access to the part of the female anatomy that strangely was open territory with its not stitched closed crotch. But this was not to Johnny’s liking; he enjoyed the preliminary steps in the dance leading up to the moment of holding a naked woman in his arms, feeling her skin against his. He discovered that the slower he removed their clothing, layer after layer, all the more anxious and ready the female was to copulate. The tender care he showed them was not the norm as most men were eager to jump the female for their instance gratification, leaving them frustrated and angry at the rough treatment. Johnny liked his women willing, warm and part of the dance. “It more fun, that way,” he reflected as his fingers strayed.
She smiled with a bite to her lower lip, “Feels real nice, Johnny.”
“Good, more ta come,” he softly promised, sealing his assurance with a kiss.
He stroked her other leg, as Johnny painstakingly and deliberately took his sweet time to disrobe Clem. Buttons on the back of her gown, any woman’s gown was a challenge for most men. Their fingers and thumbs were not sized for the tiny buttons that slide side to side instead of through the small button holes. If he had his druthers he would much rather take up both sides of the dress and rip the buttons off in a quick motion. But knowing that the longer it took, the moister Clem would be for him. He saw the glowing gleam in her eyes as she gazed at him, all traces of her earlier virginal girlish shyness had vanished in the fading light. He liked the lusty, hungry look in her eyes better. He knew this was real and not play-acting.
In due course Johnny got enough of the buttons free to slip the dress down to her hips, yards and yards of silky material pooled around her feet. Now for her corset, better known to him as a Merry Widow, another contraption he could do without with its laces that enviably would tangle and wind up in knots that a seasoned sailor couldn’t undo. Once he got so annoyed with one, he pulled out his pocket knife and cut the damn thing off, he despised them so.
“Hallelujah!” This one didn’t knot and Johnny tossed it across the room, the whalebones made a clatter when the garment hit the floor. He was getting closer to pay dirt.
“Stand up Clem and step outta ya dress.”
She did as he asked, happy to be free of her high top boots, stockings, Merry Widow and her long dress. She always found it to be at least twenty degrees cooler naked than dressed up playing the role of a proper young lady. She lifted her arms above her head while she danced a few steps in her under garments, which made the layers of petticoats rustle. Johnny pulled her close and before she realized it, her linen chemise was pushed down from her shoulders, releasing her pert breasts from their pristine white prison. Volumes of white petticoats, first the decorative top petticoat fell to the floor in another pool of material, followed by her waist petticoat and finally the under petticoat left her standing in only her frilly open crotch drawers, designed to make it easier for females to use the water closet, which was a laugh with all the other layers to lift and hold up out of the way. She purred with desire shimmering in her eyes, as Johnny swooped her off the floor, the last piece of material floated to the floor as she was finally naked as the day she was born, her bare legs swung back and forth, not a bit modest of her bare assets on full display.
“What about you Johnny?”
“Only take me a few seconds, Clem. I don’t wear anywhere near as much as ya do.”
He planted a long, juicy kiss on her ruby lips, sucked deeply before putting her down on the bed; he casually fingered one rosy nipple, then the other while he kicked his boots off. He unfastened two buttons, and then pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a chest of dark curly hair that beckoned Clem to run her fingers through the soft mat, while Johnny unbuckled his silver belt and gunbelt. His pistol he tucked under the pillow with a confident smile at Clem.
“Just in case,” he said with a wink.
“Hurry, get in here,” she implored while she squirmed on the bed, her desire was intense, her body had long ago signaled to her she was moist, more than ready to spread her legs for this tanned, muscular young man with the appealing smile. He dropped his calzoneras; the silver conches clattered on the floorboards when he stepped out of them.
“OH MY!” gasped Clem as she viewed Johnny’s assets. He smiled down at the little lady, knowing that come the morning she would be incredibly well served, more than likely sore as the dickens but for sure there would be a smile plastered upon her face.
“Let’er buck Clem,” Johnny chuckled as he mounted her; kisses filled with passion flowed as he got down to the business at hand. More kisses and ample sucking along with stroking and petting led to the main goal in their fast dance of love-making. Bed springs squeaked, moans and groans of appreciation escaped from their throats as mutual efforts were exhausted as they pleasured the other as their ride continued and continued.
The thought flashed through Johnny’s mind that their pace stayed relatively fast with frenzy as neither lover was quickly satisfied. They were like someone who had crossed the desert without a sip of water to drink for many days, and who needed to drink until they couldn’t anymore. Both were in the prime of their lives, young, full of vigor and neither one wanted to let go of the other as they enjoyed their love-making with unabashed relish.
While the initial fast rides served their purpose, to scratch the itch that needed to be stopped, it was the slow ride that Johnny looked forward too with anticipation. As the night wore on, their pace in due course slowed to an undemanding rhythm as the lovers’ early impatience and urgency ebbed.
The slow rides were more sensual, as his senses were fully engaged in the process. He watched the gleam in Clem’s eyes while he slowly rocked her, pleasing her tenderly, unrushed. Her moans were more pronounced in his ears when he tickled her pleasure spots. He drank from the elixirs of her concealed inner soul, tasting the sweetness of her honey. The feel of her skin was the smoothest, softest he had stroked in a month of Sundays while he inhaled the scents of lavender and roses that lingered in her hair. These were the traces of human contact he immersed himself in during their slow, easy rides.
Fast rides were for sexual release, slow rides were sweet and undemanding, with no pressures to act like a wild bucking stallion seeding a brood mare. Slow rides allowed him to linger over each sweet spot on her body. He let her guide him by her moans and gentle smiles as he touched and toyed with her body. In return he relaxed on the pillows to experience her measured, light touches while she raked her fingers down his muscular frame, through his thick, raven black hair, she massaged his feet and tenderly tasted his own elixir, driving him mad with the pace, his breathing more intense until he found release.
Eventually Johnny and Clem were exhausted from their bed romps, and they fell asleep, the air calmly drifted over their naked bodies, cooling them. Clem nestled against Johnny in her stupor, snuggled perfectly into his body. She fit like his leather shooting glove aligned as she was with his frame. During the course of the night, nature being what it is, Johnny’s arousal had a life of its own and he and Clem almost in reflex movement would take pleasure in yet another slow, gratifying, rhythmic ride. Sometimes she was on top, gently rocking unhurried until the moment when both parties needed to gallop. Both when at rest had some of their most remarkable dreams with their legs and arms entwined, deep measured intakes of air exhaled in unison when they rested.
In semi-conscience state Johnny smiled, brushed at something that tickled his nose. With his eyes shut, he wrinkled his nose as he felt the light touch to his nose. He sniffed and rubbed his hand under his nose…thinking it was a fly he crinkled his nose yet again. The musical laughter alerted him that it wasn’t a fly but a pest of a different nature. Good at playing possum when it suited him, Johnny kept his eyes shut; using his other senses to tell him when Clem would attack with the feathers from her hat, he was sure he saw through thin silts of his closed eyes.
His wait wasn’t long; with a quick grab he captured Clem’s hand and yanked the damn hat from her hand. The window was opened enough to test his aim as he flung the hat towards the window. It sailed through the opening perfectly.
“Hey! That’s my hat!”
Johnny opened his eyes, “What?”
“My hat! You tossed it out the window!”
“I did? Now why would I do that?”
“Oh you! I was tickling you with the feathers…like you didn’t know that.”
“Sorry Clem. Why don’t ya get dressed and go fetch it? It can’t take but an hour ta put ‘em all back on.”
“Ohhh…I have an idea…a much better idea. You go get it. You have fewer clothes to deal with than me.”
“Nope. Come here, I got something else for ya.”
“Let’s call it one for the road. I’ll be headin’ out shortly. Gotta take care of business. Then back home.”
“Will you come back this way again, Johnny?”
“Maybe next year. Depends if I draw the short straw again.”
“You better,” she sighed placing her head on his shoulder.
“I can arrange it,” he smiled. “Ready for another slow ride?”
“Take it easy, Johnny,” Clem said as he dipped his head to steal a kiss.
“Gotta have your lovin’ one more time, Clem girl,” he said as his hands moved slowly up and down her body. “Easy it will be seein’ that I like a nice slow ride ta start the day.”
“Mmmhhh, me too, you’re so fine…”
Patti – June 13, 2010
Reader’s Note: Hope you enjoyed my tale…I incorporated a story or two that I heard while at the Gathering of Guns, and was inspired enough to even add Elvis’s tag of “TCB” for “Taking Care of Business” for Johnny to use. One just never knows where inspiration for a story will come from!
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One thought on “Slow Ride by Patti H.”
Good read. JML always ♥️