"I didn't know I was talkin' to a lady."
How they got here wasn't the usual story. Scarlett and Anastasia had been chatting up two wild types in the new Valentine saloon when Arthur, who knew the pair, had blustered over like a cold breeze. Immune to Scarlett's flirtation, he'd crudely made it preferable to try her luck elsewhere. He wasn't wrong- she wasn't a lady, not in this profession- but to lay it out so blunt was something only done by men who didn't understand that the fun was in the illusion.
A week or so later Scarlett noticed Arthur in the saloon again. That swagger was memorable, and he did cut a fine figure amongst the usual scrawny cowboys and fat old drunks. She'd laughed at the sheer gall of the man, sauntering back in like he owned the place after the chaos he and his friends caused the last time. But this was her saloon- not in name, but more so than any of the men who passed through or passed out in it- and she had resolved to get an apology from this joker.
So, she had sashayed over to him at the bar, smiling widely. After some gentle reminders of their previous encounter, she informed him that there was no need to be rude to the girls just trying to get by and that his behaviour hadn't been exactly becoming of a gentleman neither. Perhaps he could refrain from bringing down the tone of the place today and allow everyone to enjoy their stay. He had laughed at her joke and, to her surprise, admitted that she had a fair point. He'd bought her a drink and they got talking.
Some men were horny from "hello", some were lonely and draining, others big-headed and boring. This man, who'd navigated their first exchange with all the grace of a freight train, then beat a man to a pulp in a brawl, was an enigma; endearing, jocular, interested, she hadn't been able to help but enjoy their mutual ribbing and wanted to know how this was the same man.
She'd tried to find out over his next three visits, and eventually she got him upstairs after betting a tumble over a hand of poker between them and winning. Despite his resistance up until that night, he'd come back to her whenever he was in town.
"Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett my harlot, heh heh… well, for now anyway."
Scarlett shot Arthur an amused look as she closed the door to her room behind them. "Hey now, don't be a sour puss, you know you can't stay all night. You remember when you passed out on me? Fellas downstairs had to carry you out!"
Arthur wobbled as he endeavoured to take off his boots without putting down his whisky. "You are mistaken, miss. I distinctly remember leaving this room."
"It was only 'cause o' me they didn't throw you in the mud outside," Scarlett laughed, taking his whisky from his hand and setting it down on the side table.
"Well, now you mention it I did feel like I was sort of… floatin'," Arthur let her dainty hands gently push him down onto the edge of the bed and he lost his train of thought as she fluttered into his lap like a spring blossom.
"Oh, that's perfectly normal when leavin' my room, pussy cat," her voice melted over him as soft hands disposed of his hat.
A hungry purr escaped his throat before his brain caught up. "Huhuh… that was good… you're quick…"
"I know," a mischievous glint flashed through Scarlett's eyes as she deftly slipped off Arthur's boots using only her feet. The sound of them hitting the floor made the man start.
"How did you do that?" he squeaked, in a pitch far too high for a man with such an excellent beard.
Scarlett crowed at his bewildered expression. "I got all sorts o' tricks up my sleeve, honey."
Arthur ran his rough hands up and down her silky skin, soaking up the feel of her from her shoulders to her elbows, "...you don't have any sleeves." Then he got the giggles like a boy on his first date with whisky. Scarlett caught them too. This ridiculous man- brutish, mysterious, unforgiving, handsome, introspective, genuine- and a complete goof behind closed doors. "So, your other tricks," he eventually continued, "must be up here." The girl squealed as Arthur flung her skirts up over her waist and hoisted her around onto the bed. Tumbling over her, he pinned her arms within the flowing fabrics so just her head poked over the hem, chuckling at her struggle.
Racked by laughter, she just managed to ask what the hell he was doing.
"I'm just admirin' you. You look like a… like a mermaid. Only… the wrong way round."
Scarlett laughed so hard it became the silent kind.
"I don't know if that's better than the… than the normal kind," Arthur's husky voice cracked with a giggle, "I mean... I suppose you got yer business end this way…"
Struggling to catch a breath, she managed a few words, "you're a strange man, Arthur."
"Me? Nah, you, you're the upside down... weird… fish lady…"
He smiled hazily as he watched the petite woman lose control beneath him. Sex, jokes, it didn't matter, it felt good to have this effect on somebody. And what a body. He crawled off her skirts and shrugged off his gun belt, it falling to the floorboards with a pregnant thud.
"You find any tricks down there then, mister?" Scarlett enquired after she had regained some composure. Looking at all six-plus foot of him stood at her feet, face flushed, blue eyes smiling, invitingly dishevelled, she was sure glad she hadn't written him off over one stupid comment.
His voice rumbled like the approaching thunder of a much-needed summer storm. "I don't know, I better take a look. It could take all night."
Scarlett smiled at the thought. Well, a lady ought to treat herself once in a while, right?