One Night in Barstow
Her lips tasted like pineapples and joy. (I guess it could have been her chapstick.)
I cupped her elbows in my calloused hands and swung them gently, side to side. Then, while still swinging her elbows, I placed my mouth to her armpit and made wet, farty sounds for a while. Because that's my thing--that's the thing I do that maybe a man hasn't ever done to her before.
"Blue Eyes," I said to her, with a smile that turned sad even as it began. "Blue Eyes, you're my clear, deep breath in a choking, blood-froth town."
She didn't know what to say to that.
"Shh Blue Eyes, shh." I murmured, sensing she was going to force a response. "Pay no mind the ramblings of drunks or dying gunslingers."
I leaned in close to her nose and started rapidly blinking my eyes, trying to tickle her nostrils with my fluttering lashes.
She turned her face away and discouraged, I stopped blinking.
She seemed to want something from me. What it was I didn't know. Perhaps it was best I didn't know--whatever this angel needed, it was surely nothing I could provide. All I had in the world could be strapped to a horse--a saddle, a bedroll and a gun.
She needed a man who wouldn't be shot. She needed a man with a job. She needed to know her vows wouldn't end with her husband on gallows in front of a mob.
And I couldn’t give her that, I couldn't even begin to try. See, I'm Latigo Flint, quickest quickdraw that ever lived. I'm just a blazing-handed pistoleer born hopelessly out of time.
I gave her another dollar instead, slipped it inside her g-string. It seemed to do the trick, at least for a minute or two. She let me continue tickling her nostrils with my oscillating eyelids.
"Blue Eyes," I whispered. "You're my cool drink of domestic beer in a poisoned well kind of town."
"I'm anything you want me to be baby." She cooed, eyeing my wallet.
I gave her another dollar.
"Blue Eyes," I whispered. "You're my slow dance uninterrupted in an interrupty kind of town."
"Damn right I am!"
Her enthusiasm surprised me until I noticed I'd given her a five, not a single.
"That better last five times as long."
She assured me it would.