PORNO TV, The Classic Television Pornographic Network Presents:

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INTRODUCTION (Commercial break)

Back in the days when Westerns ruled television this program was
indeed a maverick -- a western with a sense of humor.

In the first few episodes, it was a fairly straight series about a
cardsharp and his adventures on the frontier.  Then a bored
scriptwriter slipped in some stage directions for James Garner to look
at someone with "his beady little eyes."  Garner thought this was
great fun, and played the scene for laughs.  It worked.  Soon the
entire series took on a satirical orientation.

James Garner was Bret Maverick.  But the workload of getting enough
episodes filmed was too great, and he was soon joined by his brother
Bart Maverick, played by Jack Kelly.  They alternated as the lead
character, but were sometimes seen together as well.

In 1960, Garner walked out on the series and the studio, demanding a
better contract.  Warner Brothers replaced him on the series by
introducing another Maverick, dapper Beau Maverick, played by Roger
Moore, a Texan who moved to England after the Civil War.

Still another brother, Brent, was brought in during the final season
in 1961.  A court held that Garner could not be held to his contract,
and Garner never returned to the series.

The original series spawned a couple of reunion tv-movies in later
years, two other series "The New Maverick" and "Bret Maverick", and a
theatrical remake with Mel Gibson in Garner's role.  Garner himself
played a sheriff in the movie.

While I don't recall the series actually specifying the year, I have
-- for reasons that will become evident -- set the story in 1875,
about two years after the events chronicled in my "Have Gun Will
Travel" story.  Some of the characters from that story appear in this
one.

=====================================================================
Lyrics by Paul Francis Webster, Music by David Buttolph

     Who is the tall, dark stranger there?
     Maverick is the name.
     Riding the trail to who knows where
     Luck is his companion
     Gamblin' is his game.

     Smooth as the handle on a gun
     Maverick is the name.
     Wild as the wind in Oregon
     Blowin' up a canyon,
     Easier to tame:

     Riverboat ring your bell,
     Fare-thee-well, Annabel!
     Luck is the lady that he loves the best.
     Natchez to New Orleans,
     Living on jacks and queens,
     Maverick is a legend of the West,
     Maverick is the legend of the West.

=====================================================================

Maverick: "Balls to the Wall"

The night air was cool; it was early spring here in Kentucky, the
second week of May, and the weather hadn't warmed up quite yet.

Maverick strode up to the front doors of the Galt House, carrying his
small bag.  He rang the bell at the front desk.

"Room, sir?" The sleepy desk clerk asked.

Maverick nodded.  The clerk got a key from a box behind him.  "Just
sign in, sir.  You'll have to carry your own baggage.  No help this
time o'night."

"No problem," Maverick smiled.

He checked the room number, and walked toward the staircase.

Maverick lay in his bed; small hotel sounds around him.  There was a
knock at the door.

He reached for his gun, and went to the door in his undershorts.

"Who is it?"

"Do you have a woman in that room?" a male voice asked.

Maverick opened the door a crack.  "Hell, no," he grimaced.

The man grinned.  "Want one?"

He pulled a woman into view.  She was plainly dressed, but overly
made-up.

"Two bucks for an hour; five bucks she's yours all night."

Maverick grimaced.  But there was something in the woman's face -- a
sort of "help me please" look.

"One moment," he said, pushing the door closed.

He went back into the room, tugged on his trousers, and dug out a
five-dollar gold piece from his pocket.

Still carrying his pistol, he reopened the door.  He flipped the coin
to the man, and pulled the woman inside.  The man scuttled down the
hallway, not turning his back on Maverick.

Maverick closed the door, and turned to face the woman.

"So what would you like?" the woman asked, "You bought me for all
night."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Harrumph!" Maverick grunted.  He grabbed her arm, and pulled her over
to the washbowl.  He dipped a cloth into the water, and scrubbed at
her face.  She meekly bore his ministrations.

Her makeup off, Maverick stepped back and looked at her.  "Seventeen
-- at most," he growled.

"Sixteen -- and a half," she said, softly.

"What are you doing in this business?"

"Making a buck.  What business are you in?"

"Never mind."  Maverick paced across the floor.  "Why are you mixed up
with that pimp?  You could make more money on your own."

The girl sniffed.  "He's not my pimp.  He just works for the pimp."

"Oh, really?  Everybody gets a cut, I expect.  Out of that five bucks
how much do you get?"

"Hey," the girl shouted.  "Do you wanna talk or do you wanna fuck?"

"Keep your voice down," Maverick hissed.  "I bought your night.  I'll
do what I want to do."

The girl turned.  She had unfastened a drawstring somewhere; her dress
dropped to the floor.  Underneath she wore no foundation garments; she
was naked before him.

"So," she whispered, "what do you wanna do?"

The sudden, bulging erection in Maverick's pants belied his
intentions.  She was quite attractive, with small but roundly full
breasts, a slim shape with wide hips, and that patch of dark fur just
over long, shapely legs.

She stepped forward and touched him; one hand on his chest, the other
groping him below.  Her fingers found his rigid tool, and traced its
length.

"Ummmm," she whispered.  "Are you sure you don't just want to shut up
and screw?"

She pushed him gently.  He backed up, and stumbled against the bed.
His knees let go, and he fell backwards on the bed.

The girl unfastened his trousers expertly, and pulled them off, along
with his undershorts.  Maverick's cock stood proudly, raising its
purple head.

The girl pounced on it, holding it with both hands while she ran her
tongue gingerly around the purple cockhead.

Maverick groaned.

She fastened her lips around the end of his shaft, and began to pump
with her hands as she sucked gently on his prick.

Maverick felt he was close to orgasm.  She seemed to sense it; she
eased up, slowing her strokes to a stop.

She climbed up on him, straddling his hips, holding her cunt over his
erection.  She reached down and guided his organ to the entrance to
her pussy, then lowered herself on the shaft.

She began to pump with her legs, slowly sliding up and down his shaft,
until she heard his breath get short.  She stopped on the down stroke;
his cock buried deep inside her.

She paused a moment; his breath evened out.  Then she began again,
sliding up and down until he held his breath.

Another stop.

Maverick looked up.  She had a twisted little smile on her face.  She
seemed to enjoy taking him right to the edge and stopping.

She shook her shoulders.  Her tits jiggled, temptingly.  Maverick
reached up and grasped her nipples, feeling them harden with his
touch.

She began to move again.  Slowly sliding up and down.  Maverick felt
himself approach the edge of orgasm once again.

He reached around her, pulling her torso to his, then rolled over.  He
thrust his hips, driving his cock deep inside her.

He closed his eyes as the orgasm began; he felt himself pour out
through his penis.

When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him, a little smile
on her face.

"Still wanna talk?" she asked.

=====================================================================

Meanwhile, in another part of town...

"Well, well, well, 'Big Jim' Melloy!"

The voice was commanding.  The big man at the bar turned to face the
owner of the voice, some part of his indoctrination from prison taking
effect.

He recognized the man immediately, of course.  It had only been five
years since he had last seen Don Keno ... in San Francisco, running
out of a warehouse, leaving him behind to be taken in.

"Keno," he said, his voice low.

"Long time, no see," Keno grinned at him.  "When did you get out of
the Big House?"

"Two months ago."  Keno turned his back on Keno, and picked up his
drink.

"Are your feelings that hard?  You won't talk to your old boss?" Keno
asked.  He stepped up to the bar, and motioned for the bartender.

"Nah," Melloy grimaced.  "I've just left that life behind.  I'm going
straight.  I've got a new job -- and the pay's good."

"Not as good as you had in Frisco," Keno winked.

"Better.  Clean money, too.  I don't want to spend any more time in
the Federal pen."

"What business are you in?"

"Horses."

"Stealing them?"  Keno grinned.

"Training them.  Race horses."  Melloy drank from his glass, stalling.
"My boss is a rich fella from Jersey.  He has a good stable, a couple
of nice horses.  He brought us here for a race this Monday."

"Are you any good?  As a trainer, I mean."

Melloy grinned.  "Yep.  I'll have to say that I am."

"Then maybe you can give me a tip."

Melloy smiled grimly.  "I hear you need one.  Don't they call you
'Stubby' now?"

Keno's face hardened.  "Nobody calls me that.  Nobody alive, that is."

Melloy snorted derisively.  "Well -- Stubby -- I'd like to say it's
been a pleasure seeing you again, but... it hasn't."  He looked at the
smaller man and a grim smile spread over his face.

Keno's face was ashen.  He came to realize that Melloy was towering
over him -- seeming to grow larger.  He backed up a step.

"Besides," Melloy continued, "there's something I believe I owe you."
He moved quickly, his hand forming a fist even as it moved toward
Keno's face.  A short, quick swing -- long practiced under the guards'
watchful eyes in prison.  His knuckles contacted with Keno's chin, and
Keno went out like a light.

Keno's knees buckled, and Melloy caught his collapsing body by the
collar.  He draped Keno over the bar, his head on his crossed arms as
if he were asleep.

Then with a triumphant, self-satisfied smile on his face, he walked
out of the bar.

........................................................

The dawn's early light was slipping through the drawn shutters.  Bart
Maverick's eyes cracked open.

The train's rumbling was constant.  The vibrations carried through to
the bunk.  Even in private luxury cars like this one the beds were not
very comfortable -- or very large.  Maverick felt himself teetering on
the outside edge of the mattress.

The warm body beside him stirred softly, and memories of the night
before flooded his mind.  He felt his body responding to his thoughts,
his penis erecting, pressing into the crack of the woman's ass.

She moaned gently in her slumber.

He moved his hand, sliding it from her soft belly up to the swell of
her breast.  She pressed back against him, cuddling.

"Bart, you're insatiable," she whispered.

"Seven always was my lucky number," he whispered back.

Using small movements, she turned over onto her back.  Bart kissed
her, his tongue darting over her lips and through her teeth to find
hers.  His hand massaged one breast, as he slipped one leg between
hers.

He moved slowly, sliding over her until he was between her legs; she
lifted her knees, and Bart's cock slipped into her cunt.

She moaned as he filled her up again, the base of his cock pressing
against her clit.

He lay there unmoving, enjoying the feel of his sword in her sheath,
as they continued to kiss passionately.

She began to move her hips, rocking her pelvis forward and back.  His
cock slid about an inch each way, rubbing against her clit.  Her
breath began to get shallow and fast, and her body tensed.  Her tongue
stopped responding to his because her attention was drawn to another
part of her body.

He broke the kiss, and nuzzled his face into her neck, holding her
tightly.

She held her breath; then her body quivered, and her pussy contracted
around his cock.  Maverick held still until the shivering stopped,
then began to move his hips, a slow, steady stroke.  His cock slid
out, then deeply into her.

As he neared orgasm, he held his head up, and looked at her face.  She
looked back at him through half-opened eyes, a small, happy smile on
her face.

Then he climaxed.  He pushed himself deep inside her as his cock
jerked, and the semen flowed.  He dropped back down on top of her, his
penis still inside her, but losing its stiffness.

"Mmmmm," she moaned.  "Are you sure you don't want to go for eight?"

Outside, a conductor shouted "Next stooop, Louisville!"

"Sorry," Bart mumbled.  "That's where I'm heading."

She smiled back at him.  "Me, too.  My husband's meeting me at Union
Station."

Maverick sighed.  "Then I suppose we'd better get moving."

She nodded.

Neither of them moved.

Bart's penis gave a little shudder, and began to inflate again.

"Now, that's the kind of movement I like," she whispered.

........................................................

Bret turned over in the bed.  The girl turned over, too, cuddling up
to his bare back, one hand reaching over his waist.

Bret felt her hand slide down, and her fingers wrap themselves around
his flaccid penis.

She held it gently; and it began to swell in her hand.

"There's life in the old hoss yet," she whispered.

"Wait a minute," Bret whispered back.

"Why?" she insisted, tugging on his penis.  "You paid for a whole
night."

"This may not be the time to mention it, but it's morning."

"Not in here," she grinned.

She rolled Bret over onto his back, and straddled him, sitting on his
thighs, with both her hands around his tool.  She stroked his cock,
her thumbs rubbing his cockhead until he was fully erect.

She moved forward, raising herself over his shaft and guided it into
her hot, wet hole.

She settled down on his pole, taking him completely inside her.  She
held still, grinning down at him.

Bret looked up at her.  "You look like a woman who wants something."

"You might say that."  She diddled with the hair on Bret's chest.
"Suppose -- just suppose -- that I wanted to get away from my ... um,
... you know, the guy who keeps the money I make."

"Your pimp," Bret prompted.

She nodded.  "My pimp.  How do you suppose you might be able to
persuade him?"

Bret pondered.  "One way would be to offer enough money..."

"I don't have any money."

"Neither do I -- at least not that much.  Does he gamble?"

"Sometimes.  I think so.  Do you think you might 'win' me?"

"Why are you so anxious to get free of him?  Is it just money?"

She frowned.  "Not money at all.  He beats me -- beats us, all of the
girls in his 'stable'.  See this?"  She pulled back her upper lip.
One of her upper molars was missing.  "He knocked this tooth out once,
just because I wouldn't go down on him."

Bret's eyebrow raised.  "What would I do with you if I won you?"

She grinned.  "Please try.  Won't you try?"

Bret ran his hands up her thighs, and rested them on her hips.  His
cock was still deep inside her, her pussy tight around his erection.

"Yeah, I'll try.  Who is this guy?"

"His name is Keno.  Don Keno."

Bret furrowed his brow.  That name was familiar.

"Do people call him 'Stubby'?"

"Not to his face.  The story is that some fellow in San Francisco shot
his cock off."

"If it was San Francisco, it was more likely some fellow bit it off,"
Bret laughed quietly.  "I heard the story -- but I heard it was a
woman shot it off."

"Then you'll do it?"  She looked into his eyes.

"Yeah," he nodded.  "Yeah, I'll do it."

"Goody," she giggled.  She began to bounce up and down, sliding up and
down Maverick's fire-pole.

"Oh, gawd," Bret muttered.  "What have I gotten myself into this
time?"

..........................................................

Bart watched through the train window as the woman descended the steps
and stepped into the arms of a man standing at the side of the track.
When the two of them turned and walked toward the station, he stepped
off the train himself.

He whistled a little tune as he strolled toward the station, carrying
his small carpetbag.

...........................................................

"Big Jim" Melloy yawned.  Those late nights and early rising were
getting to him.  He stepped out of the horse barns, and bent
backwards, his hands behind the small of his back, and stretched his
spine.

He walked down the row of stalls, sidestepping a pile of horse shit
that hadn't yet been swept up.

"Hey, Melloy!" a voice behind him shouted.

Melloy turned.  A young boy was running toward him.  "What's the rush,
Tony?" he asked.

"I got a message for ya," the boy panted.  "Crystal Johnson wants you
to meet her tonight down to the Galt House."

Melloy's brow furrowed.  Crystal... Crystal...  Then the light dawned.
The hooker he had spent a night with last week.  What would she want
with him?

"Thanks, kid," he nodded, and flipped the boy a nickel.

"Gee!" the boy grinned.  "Thanks."

He strode on down the lane between the barns, thinking.

............................................................

The small 'back room' of the tavern was dark and smoky.  But they
couldn't very well play in the open on a Sunday.

Bret Maverick sat at the poker table again, pondering his hand.
Finally, he selected three cards, put them face down on the table, and
said "three" quietly.

The cards were dealt.  He picked them up, and inwardly sighed without
letting it show outwardly.  Nothing but a pair of threes.

The man to his left puffed his cigar.  "I'll stay with what I have,"
he said, and lay his cards face down on the table.

The dealer took one.  Maverick folded.

"Full house," the cigar smoker grinned.  "Kings over threes.  I had
triple crowns."

"So Col. Clark," the dealer said, gathering up the cards, "is
everything all ready for the track opening tomorrow?"

Clark puffed his cigar again.  "Sure is.  The new pari-mutuel machines
are in, the horses are all here and working out.  The weather's pretty
good.  The track is level... I think we're in for a fine day of
racing."

Maverick looked up at Clark.  "Pari-mutuel machines?"

"It's a way to pool all the bets on a race, Mr. Maverick."

"I see.  Are you going to put bookmakers out of business?"

Clark laughed.  "There have been some complaints.  But it's a way for
the Jockey Club to make back our money.  I spent a lot of time in
France studying the way it works."

"I see," Maverick nodded.

The man across from Maverick growled, "Are we playing cards, or
advertising for your race?"

"Both, Captain Bodgit," laughed Clark.  "Deal 'em."

"I also went to England, and watched the procedures there for races.
The race tomorrow is named after my favorite English race, the Epsom
Derby.  But mine's called the Kentucky Derby."

Maverick nodded, "Catchy name."

"We'll see.  I've also got a race for fillies, patterned after the
Epsom Oaks."

"Let me guess -- the Kentucky Oaks?"  Maverick grinned.

"Pretty obvious, I suppose," Clark chuckled.  "So, let's play poker."
He picked up his hand, and Maverick did the same.

...........................................................

"Hey, girl," the skinny fellow growled.  "Where you been?"

"I've been around," Crystal snapped.

"Then where's the money?  You hustling for yourself?" The skinny man
grabbed her arm.  "You know Keno won't put up with that."

"Leggo," Crystal hissed, pulling away.  She reached into her dress and
pulled out two gold coins.  "Here's the five bucks for the day -- and
another five bucks for tonight.  Shove off."

The skinny fellow looked at the coins in his hand.  "That feller last
night must've liked you."

"More than you'll ever know," Crystal grinned, grimly.
...........................................................

Bart Maverick stepped up to the front desk of the Galt House and rang
the bell.

"Help you, sir?" the clerk asked when he appeared.

"You have a room for Maverick?" Bart asked.

The clerk pulled out a large book and opened it to a marked page.  He
ran a finger down a column of writing.

"Yes sir, Mr. Maverick.  You're in 203."  He turned and reached into a
cubbyhole behind him.  "Here's your key.  Do you need help with your
bags?"

Bart shook his head, and lifted the carpetbag.  "This is all I have
with me, thanks."

He turned and walked toward the stairs.

...........................................................

'Big Jim' strode into the lobby of the Galt House.  He glanced around,
but didn't see the girl.

Suddenly, someone took hold of his arm.  He turned quickly, reaching
for the gun he no longer wore.

"Easy big fella, it's just me."  Crystal grinned up at him.

"What did you want to see me about?" Melloy asked.

"Not here," she said.  "Let's go upstairs."

"Upstairs?  You have a room here?"

"It belongs to a friend of mine.  C'mon."  She led him to the wide
stairway.

As she walked beside him, Melloy smelled her sweet perfume, and the
warmth radiating from her body.  He remembered that night last week
after he picked her up in the tavern, and he felt a swelling begin in
his pants.

They reached the hotel room door, and she produced a key.  As she
turned the lock, she glanced down at his crotch.  "Oh, boy..." she
glanced up at his face.  "I think you might have gotten the wrong idea
about why I called you up here."

"Maybe, but it's a good idea, none the less."  Melloy grinned at her.

"Come on in here," Crystal said.

She stepped into the room.  Sitting on the bed was a man dressed in
black, sorting through the contents of a carpetbag.

The man looked up, startled.

"Who are you?" both the girl and the man said at once.

"Bart Maverick," Bart said.

"I'm Crystal.  Are you related to Bret Maverick?  This is his room."

"My brother," Bart nodded.  "Damn.  It's not the first time a hotel
has gotten us mixed up.  But sometimes it works for the best."  He
looked Crystal over, appreciatively.  "You don't quite look like
Bret's type," he mused.

A little frown crossed Crystal's face.  "What type do you mean?"

"The cheap floozie," Bart smiled.

Crystal chuckled.  "Floozie, maybe.  But not cheap."

Bart's eyebrow raised.

Behind Crystal, Melloy cleared his throat.  Crystal turned.

"Sorry, Jim," she said, softly.  "Bart, this is 'Big Jim' Melloy."

Maverick stood up and extended his hand.  Melloy shook it gravely.

"So what did you two come up to my brother's room to do?" Bart asked,
a mischievous grin on his face.

"Actually, we came up here to discuss your brother's plan," Crystal
said.

"Anything my brother gets mixed up in usually ends up involving me,"
Bart grinned.  "Tell me about this plan."

...........................................................

Bret Maverick threw in his cards.  Luck was no lady tonight.

"I think I'll pack it in," he said.

Clark grinned at him.  "Well, son, if you want, c'mon out to the
Jockey Club tomorrow and watch the races."

Maverick nodded.  "I might just do that."  He shook Clark's
outstretched hand.  "Goodnight, gentlemen."

He walked out the door, a little unsteadily.  They do make some fine
bourbon in this state.

He stepped out into the street, warily looking around him.  It was a
couple of blocks to the Galt House.  He started walking, weaving just
a bit.

A form stepped out of the shadows between buildings.

"Mr. Maverick?" the man asked.

"Depends on who's asking."

"My name is Don Keno."

"So?"

"I was told that you had engaged the services of one of my employees
for the day and the night.  I was wondering what you were doing out
here."

Maverick frowned.  "I don't see that it's any of your business.
Besides-- no man can perform constantly for twenty-four hours."

"I see," Keno chuckled.  "Then why pay for what you're not using?"

Maverick was becoming impatient.  "Because when I want it, I want it
available.  Now get out of my way."  He started to step around the
smaller man.

Keno stepped into his path.  "Then perhaps I should charge you more."

"Like hell.  I struck the deal with your subordinate."

Keno poked a finger into Bret's chest.  "You are hoarding my whore.
She could be making money for me, and you're keeping her away from
me."

Maverick's mind -- even through the bourbon -- was sharp.  He smiled
inwardly that Keno had found him rather than having to seek him out.
He began to exaggerate the apparent effects of the bourbon.

"Tell you what, fella," Bret slurred.  "I'm a little intoxicated
tonight.  Meet me at the Galt House in the morning, and we'll discuss
terms."

"I want to 'discuss terms' now."  Keno prodded again with his finger.

Maverick quickly reached up, grabbed Keno's finger, and twisted.  Keno
howled in pain.

"I said tomorrow morning.  Now, unless you want people to call you
'Stubby', take your finger and shove off."

Maverick let go, and Keno backed away.  "Tomorrow," he shouted.

Maverick walked past him, toward the hotel.

Keno shouted after him, "You... crud!"

Maverick smiled -- he had him hooked.

..........................................................

Bart Maverick's eyes sparked.  "It's brilliant," he said.  "It'll
work.  And I can tell Bret had a hand in concocting it."

"You want to help?" Crystal asked.

"I insist on it."  Maverick looked at the other two.  "In the
meantime, I'll go downstairs and get this room situation straightened
out."

He stood up and walked to the door.  As he reached for the doorknob,
he turned and said, "Now don't do anything I wouldn't do..."

Crystal chuckled.  'Big Jim' blushed a little.

Bart stepped out the door and closed it behind him.

Crystal turned to the big man, and said, "You know, if this all works
out like I think it will, you're in for a big reward."

"What kind of reward?" Melloy asked.

"Well, let's put it this way," she said, putting a hand on his thigh,
"Keno has a stable of about twenty of us.  If we pull this off, you're
in for all the pussy you can handle."

Melloy grinned.

"In the meantime," Crystal said, echoing Bart's comment earlier, "how
about I do something about that swelling?"

Her hand slipped up his leg, and unfastened his trousers.  She reached
in and drew out Melloy's penis.  It was very hard, its purplish head
pulsing with his heartbeats.

Crystal leaned forward, and ran her tongue around his cockhead.

Melloy moaned.

She pressed her lips around the end of his cock, her tongue rubbing
the underside of his glans while her fingers began to stroke the
shaft.

Melloy moaned again.

Crystal slipped her other hand under his balls, lifting them slightly,
cupping them gently while her tongue swirled over the end of his
penis.

She felt his scrotum tighten.  She pushed her mouth down over his
cock, taking him deeply.

He grunted; a splash of hot fluid hit the back of her throat.  She
kept stroking his shaft as he came, swallowing each spurt of his
emission.

When he finally stopped, she sat back and looked a him.  His eyes were
closed, a satisfied little smile on his face.

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.  She tugged him to
his feet.  He tucked himself into his pants as they walked toward the
door.

"See you in the morning," she whispered.

Melloy nodded, and stepped out the door.  He heard it close behind
him.

...........................................................

Bret Maverick slipped the key to his room in the lock.  He opened the
door.  The room beyond was dark.

He was used to moving in darkness, so he got undressed without
lighting the lamp.  He slipped between the covers on the bed, arched
and twisted his back to work out the kinks, and lay back on the
pillow.  He sighed heavily, blowing out the tension.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the hand snaked over his belly.

"Hello, sweetie," Crystal whispered.  "Did you forget about me?"

.............................................................

Bart Maverick mounted the stairs, heading for his brother's room to
retrieve his carpetbag.  As he approached the door he paused; there
was a familiar sound behind that door, a creaking of bedsprings, heavy
breathing, soft moans.

Bart grinned.  He very quietly turned the knob, and the door opened.
He quickly and silently slid into the room and closed the door behind
him.

If anyone was better at moving in the dark than Bret, it was Bart.
Many times he had slipped into and out of his brothers' rooms in the
night while they slept -- or were otherwise occupied.

In fact, Bart's eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light that managed to
come in through the window.  He could see the man and woman in the
bed.  The woman was on top, nearly upright, using her legs to piston
herself on Bret's cock.

Bart found a chair in the corner and sat down, his eyes riveted to the
form on the bed.  The woman's breasts jiggled nicely as she bobbed up
and down.

She threw her head back; long hair slithered down her back, which
arched, thrusting her breasts upward.

"Oh, yeah," she breathed.  "Mmmmm."

She held herself still a moment, her body visibly vibrating.  Then she
slid forward, lying across Bret's chest.

Bret rolled them over so that the woman was now on her back.  He
reached down and put his elbows under her knees, and lifted her legs
up.  Bart could see Bret's cock slide deep into her again, as she
groaned appreciatively.

Bret was on his knees, holding the woman's hips up to his thrusts.

Bart silently opened his pants, releasing his cock and relieving the
pressure.  He stroked his cock slowly.

Bret grunted, and thrust deep into the woman's cunt.  Bart saw his ass
tighten.  Bret held still deep inside her as he came, then dropped her
ass back to the bed and slid up beside her.  Bart tucked himself back
into his pants.

They lay there cuddling until Bart cleared his throat.

Bret sat up quickly.  "Bart!"

"I just came for my bag, but I stayed for the show," Bart grinned at
him.

Bret reached over, struck a match, and lit the bedside lamp.  The
woman -- girl, actually, now that Bart could see better -- was the one
he had met earlier.  She turned over on her side, demurely resting one
arm over her bare breasts.

"Crystal told me all about the plan," Bart said, picking up his
carpetbag.  "Looks good."

"Did you get your own room this time?" Bret asked.

Bart nodded.  "They gave me yours by mistake... that's how I met
Crystal.  But I've straightened that all out, now.  Well, I'll be
going..."

"Wait a minute," Crystal interjected.  "There seems to be some
pressure here that needs to be relieved."

"Pressure?" Bart asked.

Crystal pointed at the bulge in the front of Bart's pants.  "Just call
me the safety valve," she grinned.  "C'mere."

Bart stepped over to the side of the bed.  Crystal reached up and
unfastened Bart's pants, and his nearly-erect cock popped out.  She
knelt on the bed, and put her lips to the head of his cock.

"Holy shit," Bart moaned.  "You really know what you're doing."

Her tongue expertly moved over the head of Bart's cock, as she gently
sucked, bringing him to full erection.  As her mouth worked over his
cockhead, she began to stroke his shaft with one hand, using the other
to support herself and keep from falling off the edge of the bed.

Bret just sat there, admiring his point of view.  Crystal's ass was
spread wide, hovering just over her feet as she worked on Bart's cock.
Soon Bret realized that other parts of his body had noticed the
display as well, because he had come to another full erection.

He moved around behind Crystal, then using both hands, lifted her hips
slightly, slid his cock into position, and slipped it into her wet,
hot hole.

Crystal gasped a little as Bret entered her, but fell back into her
rhythm quickly.  She continued to work Bart's tool professionally as
Bret thrust into her cunt.

Bart grunted; his body stiffened, and his cock ejected globs of semen
into the back of Crystal's throat.  Bart backed up a little.  Crystal
kept a grip on his cock, stroking it gently while Bret pumped her from
behind.

Bret pushed in deeply, pulling her hips toward his as he hissed
through his teeth.

His balls released another flow of come deep into her pussy.  Bret
opened his eyes to see his brother grinning at him.

"You picked a good one," Bart winked.  "Even if she's a bit young."

...........................................................

The next morning, Bret straightened his string tie as he descended the
hotel stairs to the lobby.  His eyes narrowed as he spotted Don Keno
standing below him.

"It's morning, Crud," Keno hissed.

"Indeed it is, Stubby."  Maverick almost grinned.

Keno began to fume.  "Don't call me that," he growled.  "Nobody calls
me that."

"That's not what I heard," Maverick snapped.  "Now, how shall we
settle this?"

"Settle what?  You owe me money."

"Tell you what.  I'll play you one hand of poker.  If you win, you get
five hundred dollars.  If I win, you release all of the girls you have
in your 'stable', and leave town."

Keno thought a moment, the effort showing on his face.  He shrugged,
"Why not?"

"Meet me in the tavern next door.  Five minutes."  Maverick turned and
walked toward the door to the street.

"Don't be late," Keno growled after him.

Bart Maverick watched the goings on from the top of the stairs.  When
he saw Keno leave, he motioned for Crystal to follow him, and silently
descended the stairs, across the lobby, and out the side door.

...........................................................

Bret sat at the table, his back to the wall.  Keno pushed through the
doorway, and strode to the table.

Keno sat down, and pointed at the deck of cards on the table.  "Toss
those out," he commanded.  "I want new cards."

Bret nodded.  "I would, too.  Bartender!"

The shirt-sleeved man behind the bar turned.  It was Bart.  "Yes,
sir?"

"A new pack of cards, please."

Bart bent over behind the bar, then straightened up and tossed Bret a
wrapped card-pack.

He handed the new deck to Keno.  "You shuffle.  I'll deal."

Keno opened the pack, removed the deck, and began to shuffle.  It was
obvious to Maverick that he was trying to look unprofessional at it.

After several shakings and shufflings, Keno set the deck on the table.
Maverick picked up the deck.  "Five card draw."  He dealt out the
cards, and set the rest of the deck on the table.

He picked up his hand, glanced at it, and pulled out three cards, and
set them on the table.

Keno studied his cards, pulled out one, and said, "I'll just take
one."

"Good hand, Stubby?"  Maverick's eyes twinkled.

"Are you sure you don't want to raise the stakes?"  Keno's smile was
sickeningly sweet.

Bret narrowed his beady eyes.  "I think I've made myself clear."  He
dealt one card to Keno, and took three for himself.  His brow creased
into a scowl as he looked at the cards.

"Four kings," Keno said, triumphantly, laying his cards on the table.

He stood up, his hand extended.  "That will be five hundred dollars,
Mr. Maverick."

"Don't you even want to see my cards?"  Maverick smiled slyly.  He lay
his hand on the table.  "I believe four aces beats four kings."

"NO!" Keno shouted.  "I won't do it!"

"Are you welching on your wager?" Maverick chided.  "Sit down."

"Another hand.  Double the bet."  Keno almost pleaded.

"How can you double your wager?"  Maverick leaned back in his chair.
"Now, if you were to add some cash..."

"Okay.  If you win, I release my girls, and pay you five hundred, and
leave town.  If I win, you owe me a thousand."

"I'm a little short on time," Maverick said, pulling out his pocket
watch.  "How about we just draw for high card?"

Keno grabbed the deck, and shuffled it, his expertise at cards
showing.

He set the deck on the table.  Maverick cut the cards.

"Draw first," Bret ordered.

Keno blew on his fingers, then reached for the pack.  He picked up
about a third of the cards, and turned them upwards.  "King of clubs,"
he grinned.

Bret reached over and picked up the top card and flipped it over.
"Ace of spades."

Maverick rose, towering over the shorter man.  "I believe you have
some bags to pack.  And I have a horse race to see."

"Wait," Keno sputtered.  "The race...  One last bet."

"I'm listening," Maverick said, in a deliberately low tone.  "Although
I doubt you have much room to wager in."

"What else could I wager?  More money?"

Maverick shook his head.  His eyes narrowed.  "Have you ever heard of
the term 'gelding'?"

Keno's eyes widened.  "You mean...?"

"You bet," Maverick grinned.  "You win, you take two thousand dollars.
I win, and I get the girls' release, five hundred dollars, and two
balls."

Maverick leaned on the table.  "You just took a bet based on a
one-in-thirteen chance.  You've got better odds in this race.  I'll
pick a horse, and you pick a horse.  Whichever horse crosses the
finish line first wins -- no matter which horse wins the race."

Keno nodded nervously.  "Agreed."

"Now, shall we go to the track?"

"You go ahead," Keno shivered.  "I'll meet you there."

...........................................................

Maverick stood beside the wooden fence, looking out at the track.  A
large man with a cigar strode up and stood beside him.

"Afternoon, Col. Clark," Maverick smiled.

"Beautiful afternoon," Clark smiled.  "Did you check out my
Pari-mutuel machines?"

Maverick nodded.  He produced a couple of tickets from his pocket.
"Marvelous system," he said.
...........................................................

"Melloy!"  Keno shouted.

The big man spun.  "Hush!" he hissed.  "Keno, you're not supposed to
be back here."

"You gotta help me," Keno said, huffing and puffing.  "You gotta tell
me who's going to win this race."

Melloy smiled.  "You looking for a sure thing?"

Keno nodded.

"There ain't no such thing.  There isn't any gold mine in this race."

"But who's gonna win?" Keno whined.  "A lot is depending on this."

"Look.  I'm training a pretty fine horse.  But if I were a betting
man..."

"Yes?  Yes?"

"Go with Aristides.  Probably the best horse in this race.  Other than
mine, of course."

"Thanks.  You're a ballsaver."

"A what?"

"Never mind.  See you later."  Keno dashed off toward the clubhouse.

...........................................................

"Keno," Maverick squinted as the smaller man arrived.  "I thought you
were welching on our bet."

"Never."  Keno shook his head.

Maverick handed Keno a sheet of paper.  "Here are the entries for the
Derby.  You pick first."

Keno looked over the names.  As he read, something Melloy said rang in
his head.

"Gold Mine," he said, firmly.  "My horse is Gold Mine."

"Very well," Maverick said.  "Now, mine is..."  He closed his eyes,
and swirled his finger over the paper.  He plunged his finger down,
opened his eyes, and read the name.  "Aristides."

...........................................................

Crystal stood beside Bart.  "Show me the card thing again," she said.

"Oh, all right," Bart said.  He held the deck in his left hand, an ace
of clubs showing on the top.

He slid his right hand over the deck, and the card was changed into a
queen of spades.

He passed his hand over it again, and it became the ace of clubs
again.

"I still didn't see it,"  Crystal whined.

"It's all in the hands," Bart grinned.

He slid his hand over the deck, and flipped four cards into Crystal's
hand.  She looked at them.  Four aces.

"How'd you do..."

"Never ask a prestidigitator the secrets of his profession," Bart
smiled.  "But I will tell you one thing... Bret's better at it than I
am."

"I do know he's got good hands," Crystal laughed.  "There is one thing
I wanted to ask you."

"What's that?"

"Where'd you get that hat?"

...........................................................

Bret presented his ticket at the betting window.  The clerk looked at
it, and at a list posted on his side of the wall.

He tore the corner off the ticket, counted out some money, and pushed
it across the windowsill.

Bret glanced at the stack of cash, then pushed it back across the
sill.  "Put this all on Aristides in the Derby race."

The clerk nodded.  He made out a new ticket and handed it to Bret.
Then he turned and turned the knobs on the machine behind him,
adjusting the odds.

Maverick watched with interest until the clerk turned again to the
window.  "Anything else, sir?"

"No, thanks."  Bart turned and walked away from the window.

As he approached the paddock area, he looked up to see Bart and
Crystal walking toward him.  Bart looked like he had dressed up for
the occasion, but he was hatless.  Then Bret noticed that Crystal was
wearing Bart's hat, with the addition of a long scarf.

"Nice hat," Bret grinned.

"Bart was nice enough to loan his to me.  I wouldn't want my skin to
get too dark in this sunshine,"  Crystal smiled.  "Is everything set
up?"

"Perfectly.  Shall we?"  He crooked his arm and Crystal slipped her hand
into it.  She glanced over at Bart, and he echoed the action on her
other side.  The three of them strolled toward the paddock.

...........................................................

Don Keno glanced both ways.  Although the barn area of the track
seemed to be busy, there was nobody within sight of him.

He slipped into the barn, and walked down the aisleway between the
stalls, checking the names of the horses chalked over the stalls.

Finding one marked "Gold Mine", he checked inside.  The horse stood
alone in the stall.

Keno stepped up to the horse, and patted its shoulder.  The horse
snorted and turned his head toward the intruder.

"Easy, boy," Keno breathed, reaching into his jacket pocket.  He drew
out two cubes of sugar and a brownish pill.  Holding them in his
flattened palm, he extended his hand towards the horse's nose.

The horse deftly lifted the two sugar cubes off Keno's palm with his
lips, leaving the pill.  He chewed them thoughtfully.

"Here," Keno whispered, offering the pill again.

Almost reluctantly, the horse took the pill and chewed it.

"That should speed you up some," Keno whispered.  "It's almost pure
caffeine."
...........................................................

'Big Jim' watched from a darkened corner as Keno sneaked out of the
barn.  He stepped out of the shadows, and nodded at the two men who
were hiding in the stall across the aisle.

They too came forth from their hiding place.

"Let's get Gold Mine out here," Melloy said.

"How stupid is that guy?" one of them asked.  "He didn't even notice
that horse was a mare."

One of the men led the mare out of Gold Mine's stall, and the other
tugged at the lead to a handsome colt, pulling him from the shadows of
another stall.

"C'mon, Gold Mine," Melloy grinned, rubbing the colt's shoulder.
"Let's go win us a horse race."

...........................................................

The colts were being saddled in the paddock.  The two Mavericks and
Crystal watched as 'Big Jim' led Gold Mine around to the grooms.

Crystal waved; 'Big Jim' nodded discreetly.

The horses were saddled quickly; the jockeys -- all of which were
black, Bret noted -- mounted, and made their way to the starting line.

As they walked out onto the track, Bart began to whistle.

Bret glanced over at him, smiled, and began to hum along.

Crystal listened for a moment to the tune they were performing.  "I
know that song... start over."  She began to sing, in a high, clear
voice:

     The sun shines bright
     On My Old Kentucky Home,
     'Tis summer, the darkies are gay.
     The corntops ripe
     And the meadow's in the bloom,
     And the birds make music all the day.

Several people around the Mavericks began to join in the song.

     The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
     All merry, all happy and bright.
     Bye and bye hard times come a knocking at the door,
     Then My Old Kentucky Home, good night.

By the time they reached the final lines, nearly the whole crowd was
singing.

     Weep no more, my lady.
     Oh, weep no more today.
     We will sing one song for
     My Old Kentucky Home,
     For My Old Kentucky Home far away.

In his private box, Col. Clark pulled out a notebook and jotted down,
"Hire a band - Old Kentucky Home."

...........................................................

The horses were lined up behind a flagged rope.  When they were all in
place, the flag dropped.

...........................................................

Don Keno slipped through the crowd, heading away from the track.  He
was almost through the gate when he felt the heavy hand on his
shoulder.

"The race is over, Mr. Keno.  It's time to pay your debt."

Keno looked up to see the face of 'Big Jim' Melloy.

"Jim -- you gotta let me go.  I've got to get out of here."

"No can do, Mr. Keno."  Melloy grinned, his teeth showing.  "Besides,
I ought to do it just for what you tried to do to my horse."

"Your horse lost," Keno whined.  "He came in LAST!"

"Exactly," Melloy growled.  "Which is why you've got to pay the
fiddler."

Melloy grabbed Keno's collar, and pulled him toward the horse barns.

...........................................................

Bret Maverick stood over the seated Keno.  "Are you ready to pay your
debt?"

"Isn't there any other way to pay this off?  I mean -- do you have
to..." Keno wheedled.

Bret shook his head.  He looked up at Bart, who was standing behind
the seated man.  Bart put his hands on Keno's shoulders, holding him
in the chair.

"All ready, Mr. Maverick," Melloy said.  He stood with a knife in one
hand, a pan of water in the other.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Bret asked.

"Well..." Melloy smiled.  "I've never done it myself, but I've seen it
done lots of times.  On horses, at least."

Keno whimpered.  "Please...?"

Crystal stepped up behind Melloy.  "Just do it.  Don't mind all that
whining.  He never paid any attention to ours."

The knife blade gleamed as Melloy stepped up in front of Keno.

...........................................................

Bret and Crystal stood outside the barn.

"I'm sorry," Crystal said.  "I didn't think I'd faint like that."

"No problem.  I was feeling a little queasy myself."

Melloy stepped out of the barn, the pan in his hand.

"What do you want to do with these?" he asked.

"What do you ordinarily do?" Maverick asked in return.

Melloy smiled.  He reached into the pan and picked up the bloody orbs,
turned and tossed them up on the roof of the barn.

Bart walked out of the barn.  "I think he'll sleep a while," he said.

"Free," Crystal breathed.  "We're free at last.  I can't wait to tell
the girls!"

...........................................................

Bret and Bart stood at the wharf, watching the steamboats, before
boarding their soon-departing ride down-river.

Bret kept looking up the bank; finally he smiled.  "Here she comes,"
he said.

Crystal bounced down the walkway, simply dressed and no makeup.  She
ran up to Bret and Bart, kissing each of them on the cheek.

Bret handed her a key.  "It's paid up until Saturday."

"Thanks guys," she smiled.  "Are you sure you won't stay for our
little party?  There's twelve girls up there who want to thank you --
personally."

Bart shook his head.  "I've GOT to get back out west.  This Ohio
Valley weather is wrecking my sinuses."

"Mine, too," Bret agreed.  "Besides, you need to console 'Big Jim' --
he's the one who lost his job.  We came out winners."  He reached into
his jacket pocket.  "Speaking of which, here's a little cash to tide
you over."

"Thanks again," Crystal smiled.  "If you're ever in town again..."

"We'll look you up."  Bart smiled.  "I think our boat's about to
leave."

Crystal kissed them both again and watched as they picked up their
bags and walked across the gangplank onto the Avalon.  Two men pulled
lines that raised the gangplank and swung it onto the deck.

The big wheel in the rear of the steamboat began to turn slowly,
pushing away from the wharf.  Crystal waved as it began to roll down
the mighty Ohio.

...........................................................

Crystal met 'Big Jim' in the lobby of the Galt House.

"Are you ready to be properly thanked?" Crystal grinned.

There was a strange expression on Melloy's face.  "Actually... um..."

"What?" Crystal asked.  "What's wrong?"

"Well,..." Melloy looked a little perplexed.  "It's just that what you
said -- er, promised -- was 'all the pussy I could handle'."

"Yeah -- so?"

Melloy turned and took Crystal into his arms.  Looking down into her
face, he said, softly, "I think I'm holding all the pussy I can
handle."

"Oh."  Crystal blushed, but her eyes twinkled.  "Then kiss me.  You
can propose later."

He kissed her; her lips parted and their tongues met.  Melloy felt a
tingling sensation as she melted against him.
n
She broke the kiss after a long moment.  Breathless, she whispered,
"Let's take this inside.  The girls will still want to express their
thanks... but it might not be in the manner they quite expected."

...........................................................

                         the end
...........................................................

NOTES:  While I've taken some liberties with some of the traditions of
the Kentucky Derby, most of the historical data here is real.  The
first Derby was run on Monday, May 17, 1875.  It was also the opening
day of the new track, which was then called the Jockey Club.  The
track formally became "Churchill Downs" some years later.

I used the words Stephen Foster wrote for "My Old Kentucky Home",
the words that would have been sung in 1875.  One word has been
changed to 'people' in the currently-used version to be politically
correct.

The Galt House, referred to in the story frequently, was a real
hotel in the late 19th century.  It stood at Main and 2nd Streets
in Louisville, very close to the river.  During the Civil War, it
was used by both sides -- at differeIt was thehotel that Charles Dickens
stayed in when he visited
Kentucky.

The original hotel burned down.  A new hotel was built in the 1960's,
also named the Galt House, two blocks from the site of the original.
I expect the builder, Al Schneider, would have built on the original
site, except that there is now a bridge there.

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