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Subject: Title story: "Adv of Miss Lilly's Tavern...11" Author: Various - Genie 86164756
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Date: Tue, 19 Sep 2006 10:37:02 +0000
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Adv of Miss Lilly's Tavern...11
Slade decided he'd better cool off before he went back to breaking horses,
otherwise, he'd ruin them all. Maybe he ought to head into town, maybe even have
a whisky at the local saloon. Sometimes during the day, Irish showed up with a
couple of Miss Lily's girls to play cards, give the guys something to drool
about until Miss Lily's opened for the evening.
He saddled up his own stallion and rode into town. On the way, he thought about
his reaction to Chet's words about Irish. Why did he react so violently in her
defense? Why did it hurt so much to think of Irish with another man?
He shook these feelings off as he dismounted and tied his horse in front of the
Golden Slipper Saloon. As he climbed the stairs a voice called out to him.
"Mr. McCall? Oh, Mr. McCall?" Bessie, the town mail mistress and wire clerk was
hailing him.
He turned and walked over to her, tipping his hat. "Morning, Miz Bessie. How are
you, this morning?"
"Why, good morning, Mr. McCall," she replied. "Can't complain today. Now, I've
got a wire for you in my office. If you'd like to sign for it, I can turn it
over to you now."
Must be from his boss, Lucas Pierpont. Nobody else would send him a wire here.
"Thank you, Miz Bessie. I'd appreciate that."
He followed the old lady back to the small storefront that served as both post
office and wire office. She rummaged around her desk before finally coming up
with a creased envelope.
"Here it is," she announced. "Now sign here." She pointed to a line in her log
book. After he scribbled his signature, she handed him the sealed envelope.
"Thank you again, Miz Bessie," he said, before leaving her store. Once outside,
he ripped open the envelope and found the simple message scrawled in Miz
Bessie's spidery hand-writing.
'Sister not feeling well. Stop. Don't worry. Stop. Not serious. Stop. Will let
you know. Stop. Dad.'
It was such an innocuous looking message, but it had such sinister meanings.
Irish groaned and stretched as she woke up, every muscle in her body protesting.
Suddenly, she sat up, looking around. How had she gotten back to her room? The
last thing she remembered was coming over and over again with Jonah's huge cock
stuffed in her pussy and Jeremiah Crane whipping her ass.
She shifted her buttocks slightly and bit her lip again the discomfort she felt.
Obviously, she remembered that part of the evening correctly.
A hand crept down between her naked thighs, gingerly touching her pussy. Yes,
she was sore down there, inside and out. As she stuck the tip of her finger
inside her, a drop of moisture coated it. She withdrew her finger, looking at
the pearly liquid.
That wasn't hers. So it must be Jonah's. God, he must have shot an incredible
load for some of it to still be there.
A knock on the door startled her. She quickly stuck her finger in her mouth
and sucked off the juice. Then she held the linen sheet up against her chest.
"Come in!"
Ginger poked her head in. "Oh, good, you're awake. Some of us are going over to
the Golden Slipper to play some cards. Want to join us?"
"Sure," Irish replied. "Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed."
Ginger nodded and withdrew. Irish could hear her calling to the other girls that
they had to wait for her to dress.
Mindful of her sore behind, she scooted off the bed and went to her armoire. She
chose one of her loose-fitting dresses, knowing she wouldn't have to wear any
underclothes that would rub against the welts on her buttocks.
A steady ache permeated the area between her thighs as she walked across the
room and dressed herself. Once or twice, she cupped her crotch with her hand,
trying to take away some of the hurt. All that did was jumpstart her own
juices flowing.
When she was done, she sauntered down the stairs into the parlour. Ginger,
Wanda, Annie and a couple of the others were lounging around.
"I'm ready," she announced. "Shall we go?"
Slade heard the feminine laughter as he pushed open the door to the Golden
Slipper Saloon. He knew it was a group of girls from Miss Lily's and wondered if
Irish was among them.
The wire he'd just received burned a hole in his pocket. It had abruptly brought
him down to earth, reminding him why he was in Rattlesnake Gorge, working as a
cowboy. Clem Dawson was on his way to town and Slade had been tracking Clem for
seven years. Now, he just might bring the outlaw to justice. If he remembered
why he was here and didn't concern himself with Irish's other business.
As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted Irish. She and the other girls
were seated at a table near the far end of the bar. She had her back to him
and the bar.
He swaggered up to the bar and ordered a whisky. It was going to take a couple
of drinks to dull his senses enough so that he wouldn't want Irish right now
with an all consuming hunger.
In rapid ...
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