Fascini dell'assassino
From the very moment she laid eyes on Wyatt Earp and his companion, Doc Holliday, she thought he was all the man a woman like her could ever want. Of course that was before she fell to the killer charms of the other man. He was so different from Wyatt in every conceivable way, and it made her skin tingle in the oh-so delicious yet guilty pleasure whenever she would flirt with Wyatt though she owed no loyalty to him.
Sometimes late at night when their passion had finally been sated for the time being, their sweat had dried and he had gone with little more than the flash of his scarlet sash, she would think back to the beginning of the sordid cycle she now found herself in and wonder how she allowed her soul to be ensnared by such an enigma of a man.
The center of Tombstone's nightlife was the Oriental. The stylish saloon was filled beyond normal capacity with Cowboys and townsfolk drunk past human tolerance. The women had let their hair down in the tawdriest ways, all in the hope of earning a few coins and drinks to go along with their pleasure. All the women but one.
Dressed beautifully in her purple and silver dress, she perched, brooding, next to County Sheriff Behan, her mind directing just enough energy towards flirting with the handsome man. The rest of her attention focused inward, repeatedly playing her first meeting with Wyatt Earp in her mind.
It made no sense whatsoever to her. Why hadn't he fallen to her charms as so many men before him had? His desire for her had been as obvious as an oak tree in the middle of the Texas panhandle, but whether it was the young smiling man who so resembled him or the smirking Southern gentleman flanking his back that kept him from acting on the urge to dance with her, she suspected she'd never know.
She was drawn out of her reverie by the sudden stillness in the saloon. Looking around she noticed nearly everyone's attention directed at a faro table at the other end of the building. Surrounding it were three men, Cowboys by their blood-red sashes. The first, a nasty, scraggly-looking man, had his hands braced against the table and was saying something to her current obsession, Wyatt. The second man was wearing a shirt to match his sash and a smarmy grin, and his hat hid the third's features but she could see the hard body that lay underneath his dark blue clothing even from a distance.
Never being one to deny herself, she assuaged her curiosity.
"Those men over there. Who are they?" Behan's attention immediately returned to her. Following her line of sight, he gave a mall, charming smile.
"The especially dirty fellow is Ike Clanton. The man in the red shirt is Curly Bill Brocious, leader of the Cowboys, and the man next to him is his second-in-command, Johnny Ringo. The other three behind the table are Morgan and Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, a good friend of theirs." He paused and smiled slyly at her.
"I believe Mr. Earp is married." They met each other's eyes and laughed, each knowing they type of person they kept company with and reveling in it.
Suddenly – or so it seemed to her wrapped as she had been in Behan's charming explanation – the man in the hat – the one named Johnny Ringo if she recalled correctly – exploded into action. Despite her love for Wyatt, she couldn't help but be impressed by how quick and fluid Ringo's movements were.
"As you can see, Mr. Ringo's something with a gun." She hummed agreement in the back of her throat. She had never seen a man handle a weapon in quite the way he did. His smooth movements made him appear so…sexy. Appealing in a way Wyatt never would be.
It was impossible to take her eyes off him even after the other man – Doc Holliday – showed him up with some fancy moves with his cup. She swore she could hear him growl in annoyance from across the room.
Her breath caught in her throat when he approached Behan and her by the bar with Curly Bill and Ike. He placed himself behind Curly Bill and moved to have his back once Bill turned away from her to speak with Behan. This put him right in front of her, and she took the opportunity to shamelessly stare at him, cataloging his every feature. She found, to her surprise, that she liked what she saw, from his dark blue-green eyes and brown goatee to the way his guns hung slung low around his hips.
A snicker brought her eyes to his face once more. One of his eyebrows was raised and a smirk played across his features. Beneath the shadow of his hat, his eyes seemed to smolder as they roamed down her body, paying particular attention to the areas of skin exposed by her dress. Her body heated under his stare and his smirk widened almost as if he knew the affect he had on her. His boldness stirred something dark in her, and curiosity rose in her to see where this new emotion would take her. She smiled coyly at him from underneath her lashes and was pleased to see his pupils widen slightly at her blatant invitation.
"Come on, Johnny, let's get outta here." Ringo nodded, his attention instantly on Curly Bill. Her sigh of disappointment transformed into a gasp of outrage as Ringo brushed his fingers over her cleavage as he left. His resulting snort of amusement both disgusted and sent a thrill of excitement through her. She followed his exit with narrowed eyes, her decision abruptly made. She stood quickly.
'Excuse me, Mr. Behan. I'm feeling rather faint."
'Ah, allow me to –"
"No. No, I'd rather be alone tonight."
"…If you insist." As soon as she was outside, she sighed in relief. There was no way she would let Behan interfere with her plan.
She walked quickly in the general direction of her hotel. The night air was cool compared to the hot, smoky thickness of the Oriental in full swing. She slowed to a leisurely walk and took a deep breath.
"Hey." She let out a muffled shriek – muffled because a calloused hand had covered her mouth almost before she'd even thought to scream – and was quickly into the shadow of a near building. She struggled – her mind in instant fear of rape – but was restrained by a pair of steely arms.
"Calm down, woman. I'm not going to hurt you." Had it been any other man, she wouldn't dream of believing him, but this was Ringo and the attraction was definitely mutual.
He spun her around, and she clenched her fists in the material of his shirt. Her left cheek rested in the crook of his neck and her breath caressed his jaw. She could feel his pulse beating a steady rhythm against her skin. He sighed.
"Miss Josephine. I thought it best to accept your invitation in privacy rather than in the company of others." The breath froze in her lungs, and heat began to pool between her legs. She smiled lightly, suddenly in a playful mood.
"Mr. Ringo?" Perhaps her heard the playfulness in her voice, or maybe the lust, whichever he noticed, he chuckled.
"Oh please don't stress yourself on my account. Johnny will do just fine." His voice sent shivers racing down her spine. Not to be outdone by this dirty gangster, she pressed herself closer to him and breathed in his ear, please when she felt his pulse quickening.
"Well, Johnny, most people call me Josie, not 'Miss Josephine.'" His arms loosened, and he allowed her to step into the moonlight. He regarded her from the shadows impassively. Feeling spontaneous, she giggled and grabbed his hands, once again pressing herself flush against him before pulling him into the moonlight alongside her. She had the distinct feeling he was allowing her to lead him along because he was driven by the same feeling she was. Curiosity.
Still feeling spontaneous, she began tugging him towards her hotel room; he followed without complaint.
She snuck him into her room, and he rush she felt doing so was intoxicating, much more so than any tingling rush she might have felt in any other man's company. Once he was inside, he prowled the room quietly – seeming to her a predator who wasn't quite sure how to attack his prey – while she sat on the edge of her bed and followed his movements lustfully.
His prowling carried him to her side, and he sat down, making the bed dip low on her right side. The dark feeling that compelled her to bring him here was retreating, and she was beginning to wonder what she was supposed to do with him now. Somehow the problem didn't bother her much.
"What do you want from me?" His voice had dropped to a whisper but the abruptness of it startled her, and she was mildly surprised to find herself staring quite intently into his clear eyes. It took a moment for his question to process, but when it did, she smiled and cupped his left cheek in her palm, loving the feel of his slight stubble brushing her skin.
"I want you. I want to know what it's like to make love to you, a Cowboy." His slender fingers encircled her wrist, and he turned his head to kiss he palm. The feel of his lips on her skin was almost enough to make her swoon, but she held on, needing to know his answer.
He didn't even twitch, nor did a flicker of surprise cross his features. In fact, once he'd released her hand, he nodded slowly as if he'd been expecting something similar to her answer.
"Okay." He kissed her before she could say anything in reply.
Tonight was different from most nights. Usually Ringo would have already snuck out of her room to join his comrades, and she would be soundly sleeping their night's activities off. Tonight – or actually early the next morning – however, he was still there and going very strong.
His hot mouth blazed molten paths along her cool skin as he wrung screaming renditions of his name from her gasping mouth time and again. He seemed insatiable this night, more hungry for her than he's ever been previously. He took her until his limbs failed him and she had long passed the point of begging him to stop because the pleasure was too much to handle.
He collapsed behind her and had just enough energy to pull her to him in a spooning position. His right hand cupped her left breast and his thumb absentmindedly flicked her nipple. His quiet panting in her ear lulled her to sleep. Cradled in his arms, she slept better than she had in years.
She woke with a literal bang. She would have jumped to her feet if not for Ringo – who already had his pants, sash and guns back on – holding her down and throwing a blanket over her. She heard several guns being cocked and as many voices cursing.
"Josephine." She cringed. That could be no one else but Wyatt Earp. She sighed, whether from annoyance or fear she wasn't sure, and rose, using the blanket to cover her nudity.
Wyatt, his brother Morgan and Doc Holliday were standing just in front of the door. Wyatt had his guns cocked and pointed at Johnny who stood by the window still shirtless, but the other three men only had theirs cocked, not pointing at any particular person, though Ringo gripped his tightly.
Wyatt cut his eyes to her, concern for her warring with hatred for Ringo.
"The innkeeper said he heard screams coming from your room. Has this bastard hurt you?" Of the four men staring intently at her, only one had her full attention. Hand at her throat, she looked to Ringo for a sign.
His expression, unreadable to most, spoke volumes to her. She knew it, and he did as well. The moment of truth had come.
Summoning all her talent as an actress, she projected an guise of serenity and strode over to Ringo's side. Though he stayed in his defensive position, she could feel his stare burning her. Ignoring him she stared down Wyatt.
"Johnny has never hurt me." There, her decision had been made.
Wyatt snarled, unable to believe what he'd heard.
"NO!" Wyatt shouted, the blow to his ego almost more than he could bear.
"Wyatt what are you doing?!" Morgan grabbed his brother and wrestled him to the ground. Holliday leaned against the doorframe and smirked at Ringo, somehow pleased that it'd turned out this way.