Chapter 12 — SUBLIME DIVERSIONS
"With persuasive words she led him astray;
she seduced him with her smooth talk." (Proverbs 7:21 NIV)
No sooner had the door closed behind them than Jess' initial enthusiasm wavered in the stark realization that he was facing a rather daunting impediment to progress in the usual and customary manner. The desire was there all right, but the logistics of how to go about satisfying it were problematic. How could he manage with a leg that didn't bend?! Not only that... it occurred to him that they'd never before had the leisure to engage in extended foreplay. Jess wasn't even sure he knew how.
Time was money at Irish Lily's and profit depended on cycling customers through as quickly as possible. Indeed, the only protracted conversations he and Carrie'd ever had occurred outside of business hours... in public and fully clothed. Jess could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd spent an entire night with a woman in joyous unfettered congress. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming need to talk first... just talk.
"Carrie... could we...?"
"Hold on a minute... I'm thinking."
The girl was surveying the surroundings and the pair of single beds with less than approval. This wouldn't do. She gave the nearest one a hearty shove and it scooted a few inches.
"What're you doin'?"
"Can't play without a playground," Carrie grunted, dragging the nightstand from between the beds before pushing them together. A thin woolen blanket rolled into a tube and stuffed in the gap served to level the playing field. That done, she sat on the improved platform to unlace her boots and kick them off. Before Jess could gather his wits the overalls dropped to the floor, followed by the chambray shirt, and Carrie was standing before him, oddly charming in her chemise and knickers. "Now then... you were about to say...?"
Jess cleared his throat. "Could we... um... talk first?"
"How about we talk in the meantime?" Carrie was investigating the row of ties holding the right leg of his denims together. "Well, isn't this clever?!" She started untying them from the ankle up.
"You knew about this, right?" He indicated the plaster.
"Way before Sally came to talk to me. I've had plenty of time to think of ways of getting around it. Do you need help moving to the bed?"
"No... I can manage." Of course, when he heaved himself out of the chair and over to the edge of the bed, his pants fell down, exposing the cutdown longjohn bottoms with their ties. Carrie giggled and reached for them. His big hand clamped down on hers.
"No... wait... please... I gotta know... I heard you quit the business, so why're you doin' this?"
"Let's get you comfortable first and then we'll talk... if that's what you really want..."
It was quite obvious that Jess' body wasn't honoring his verbal request as Carrie helped him lie back, layering pillows to elevate his head and shoulders and support the casted leg. Ignoring the contradictory evidence, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, close enough to hold his hand as she considered how to explain 'why'.
Because of their broader experiences with men in general, most working girls acquired a wider knowledge of human nature than their one-man counterparts in polite society would ever achieve. It wasn't just about the sex... it was about the basic human craving for intimacy that went beyond physical acts. On many occasions in the past it'd happened—perhaps due to impotency—that a man who'd purchased Carrie's favors wanted nothing more than his hour's worth of cuddling and conversation with an attractive, soft-spoken female. The first time this'd occurred, a much younger Carrie had confided her confusion to an older coworker.
"Was it me? Did I do something wrong?" she'd queried tearfully.
"No honey, you didn't. It ain't their fault, neither," the other woman had consoled. "Sometimes it just happens an' when it does you don't make a big deal of it. You hear 'im out. You play along as if it's the most natural thing in the world, poke or no poke, so that when he leaves he don't feel he's any less of a man. Unnerstand?"
This hadn't ever happened with Jess... but there was a first time for everything. Looking at him now, knowing he was ready, Carrie was reasonably confident this wasn't that time.
"Why're you here, Carrie?" Jess repeated softly.
With no more formal schooling than his, Carrie endeavored to articulate as clearly as her vocabulary permitted just exactly why she'd agreed to come to him...
For the first time ever Carolina Compton was in a position to make love according to her rules, her timetable... to not be rushed, to take as long as she pleased to please her lover, to experiment. Making love as a free agent was a radical departure from providing a service... and she meant to wring every last iota of pleasure from the experience... for both of them.
Jess had never been demanding with her and was far and away the most enjoyable partner she'd ever had. But... she'd never been with him more than an hour at a time. How would he behave with unlimited access? True... right now she would probably be able to fend him off if he turned rough, although she couldn't imagine that happening.
The other thing was that Carrie'd been hooking since she was fifteen and had no idea how a real lady acted in the boudoir. Jess had always treated her as she envisioned a real lady would be treated... with gentleness and tenderness and, most of all, respect. She assumed Jess had enjoyed his share of quality time with real ladies and was therefore in a position to provide guidance. Would he be her teacher?
Thirdly, Carrie missed him. Him personally. She wanted to be here. She would have come sooner but she was leery of intruding... and of Slim's strait-laced outlook on 'appearances'. If she had her way, this wouldn't be the only encounter. When that cast came off, she hoped Jess would be a frequent visitor to her small private apartment above the shop. And no, she still wasn't looking to get married. She loved him in her way, true... but she was reinventing her life in other directions.
Jess'd listened in astonishment to this veritable deluge of honesty. No woman had ever been this upfront with him... or trusting of his reaction. Sense of urgency still intact, he needed her more than ever... needed this affirmation of his self-worth. Understood that her refusal to commit to a more permanent alliance wasn't aimed at him personally. Understood—more than anyone—her quest for the independence she'd never had. He'd had his... still had it to some extent... although, he had to admit, the thrill of being completely free and beholden to no one had lost much of its allure. Just knowing he could hit the road whenever he chose seemed to suffice for the present. This comely girl was offering herself to him right now, right here. He'd be a fool not to accept.
"C'mere..." he said softly, reaching for the ribbon holding together the top of her chemise.
In no time they were both naked under the quilt, trying to achieve a workable approach. Carrie laughed and made him laugh when, initially, he exhibited some frustration and impatience. She didn't need to be told that, being more or less confined to one position—on his back—he was having trouble coming to terms with not being in control... with having to allow her to choreograph the motions.
The first attempt was precipitous... Carrie smothered his apologies with kisses.
"That was just a warm-up. Don't worry about it. We need to pace ourselves anyway. We've got all day and all night... and all day tomorrow."
"Whoa! We gotta get up sometime... to eat an' do... other things."
"Who says? And don't worry about the other things, either. Kim will help you when you need it... while I'll go to the washroom or something. Problem solved."
Jess' face burned but he admired her practicality at dealing with something else they'd never had to consider before.
"What'll the others think?"
Carrie rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "Those two old men've banished themselves to that camper wagon thing out by the corral. Sally says they're okay with that... and she and Kim've got their own fish to fry this evening."
"Wait... hold up... Sally's Slim's woman... at least that's what Kim told me. I didn't know to believe him or not..."
"Well, tonight she's Kim's woman. He just doesn't know it yet."
"That's hard to swallow..."
"Not the only thing hard around here," Carrie chortled. "Cowboy up!"
Round Two was underway.
In the meantime, the potential advance of a snow event was a minor hiccup in Sally's plan, but not an insurmountable one as long as it didn't develop into a major storm. In the hour before the scheduled arrival of the stage, she and the boys got the saddle horses into the barn. The coach horses and mules were already drifting toward the protection of the cottonwood grove at the back of the front pasture.
Late by thirty minutes, the stagecoach came to a jangling halt in the yard, scattering the chickens. As Opie and Mild Bill began unhooking the team, the driver laboriously clambered down from the box and stuck his head in the compartment to issue the usual invitation to the passengers. In her capacity as interim Overland representative, Sally stood by to greet them as they disembarked. A pair of men descended and an alarm went off in her head—one rarely saw Orientals riding the stage, much less Chinese gentlemen dressed in Western-style greatcoats and felt fedoras.
Sally led the way to the house with Mose bringing up the rear. Nothing in the passengers' manner indicated they were anything other than what they claimed—businessmen on their way to Cheyenne. Both spoke flawless, unaccented English. Nonetheless, the feeling that these two meant trouble continued to dog her as she served coffee and pie. Intuition was strongly suggesting that it had something to do with Kim. The gentlemen hadn't bothered to remove their coats. Sally discerned, from the telltale bulges in their otherwise well-tailored attire, that both were carrying weapons in shoulder holsters and boot sheaths.
Mose, being old school, liked his joe saucered and blowed. "Seen Jonesy an' the boy in town... heerd Slim took the train to Cheyenne. Keep that up an' I'll be outta a job!" The old man looked around. "Where's Jess keepin' hisself?"
"Jess isn't feeling well today, Mose. He's gone back to bed."
"That right? Sorry to hear it. Tell 'im I said get better soon."
"I will."
Where in hell is Kim?
The men finished eating and proffered thanks for the excellent service before returning their hats to their well-barbered, macassar-oiled and queueless heads. Just as Sally was about to dismiss her forebodings as baseless, the taller of the two men withdrew a folded card from an inside pocket. Opening it, he presented it to his hostess.
"Have you by any chance seen this man?"
The mounted tintype was of a couple on their wedding day, neither looking particularly happy. The bride was pretty, in a pinch-faced sort of way, enveloped in acres of white lace. Grim and very young but undeniably identifiable, the groom was Kim. Poker mask engaged, Sally lied like a politician while sending a mental message to Mose to keep his mouth shut.
"Can't say that I have. How about you, Mose?"
The old man peered closely, then shook his head. "Naw, Miss Sally. Ain't seen him around or on any run a mine. I'da remember ifn he had."
The man exchanged the print for a trade card—'Chan Private Detective Agency, San Francisco/Honolulu/Shanghai'.
"Thank you anyway, missus. If you should happen to come across this individual, would you be so kind as to contact us by telegram?"
"We'll keep an eye out. Is he... um... dangerous? D'ya think he's in Cheyenne?"
"We've recently developed a promising lead to that effect, yes. Good day to you, missus."
Where in hell is Kim?
Following his passengers out the door, Mose turned to give Sally a wink to let her know he wasn't going to blab about that other party living at the ranch!
"Almost forgot to say, word come down from the main office... won't be no run tomorrer on account a thet storm movin' in. We orter get to Cheyenne right ahead of it. Ifn I see Slim I'll tell 'im about Jess bein' sick. You folks keep warm, hear?"
Sally sank against the table, jelly-kneed with relief until the rumble of the departing coach faded in the distance. What if she hadn't been convincing enough... and they came back? What to do? Someone needed to be told... someone needed to take charge and mount a defense... someone like Slim, who wasn't here. Although she hated to admit it, this situation wasn't one within her power to address.
If she told Kim, he might panic and try to run. He certainly wouldn't be in a fit state to factor into her intentions for the evening. Yes... it was selfish of her, placing her own wants and needs ahead of his welfare... but there was nothing to be gained by frightening him into intemperate flight. Would in fact be detrimental to his physical health. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Where is he, anyway?
Other than the popping and hissing of logs in the stone fireplace and the murmurings of muted voices creeping under the door to the back bedroom, the house was oddly quiet for midday. Kim hadn't gone outside... his coat and hat were still on the rack. The front bedroom and bunkroom were both empty, leaving only the big washroom tacked onto the back of the structure to investigate.
The door was sticking and Sally had to shoulder it open. The room was thick with steam so dense she could barely make out the occupant of the big oval tub. A kettle of boiling water sat atop the fully-stoked and roaring potbellied stove.
"What the...?" She jumped as a soap-laden sponge splatted the wall near her head.
"Next time I won't miss," Kim threatened, looking uncommonly relaxed. "Ever heard of knocking before entering?"
"I was worried about you... haven't seen you in hours."
"Now you have, so go away."
Sally bent over to pick up the sponge and returned the serve with deadly accuracy. Kim ducked below water level and came up laughing and sputtering.
"Who takes a bath in the middle of the day?" she demanded.
"It's the only chance I'll get to soak as long as I want to," Kim defended himself. "When everyone else is home we have to take turns and be quick about it."
"I guess I can understand that. How long have you been in there?"
"Since before the stage got here. Heard voices in the parlor but not what they were saying. You almost done outside?"
"Almost. Another hour or two should do it. Then I'll come in and start supper. You know... that looks like a great idea. When you're done would you do me a favor and set up the bath for me?"
"Of course. I'd be happy to."
"Okay. See ya after a while." Sally backed out and closed the door.
Mild Bill, Opie and Sally worked together to corral the chickens and lock them in their coop. The cow was installed in her byre along with Jonesy's elderly pet donkey. The bull, who'd been peaceably sharing Deecy's pasture behind the barn, was returned to the foaling box. It was Opie's idea to put one of the orphan calves in with him as an experiment. Percy didn't seem to mind and was soon reclining majestically with all five calves nestled close by. The men fed and watered Andy's menagerie and secured tarps over the cages with tiedowns while Sally milked the cow.
Sally judged it was nearing sundown, although it was difficult to tell due to the leaden overcast. The wind cut like a knife, bearing sparse unwelcome icy pellets—sleet, not snow. Mild Bill and Opie once again declined an invitation to sleep over in the house, assuring her they'd be perfectly comfortable in the gypsy wagon. No... they wouldn't be coming in for breakfast but thank you all the same.
Inside, all was in order... lanterns lit and a blazing fire keeping the cold at bay. The kitchen table was laid for two. Kim was in the kitchen presiding over a pot of mystery stew or soup... whatever it was smelled heavenly.
"What're we having?"
"Not sure but I think it's cheese and potato soup. Something else Jonesy made ahead, in any case."
"Are you sure it hasn't gone off?"
"Well, I smelled it and tasted it. Seemed fine to me."
Kim flashed one of his rare smiles. The long hot soak had done wonders for his mood as well as his aches and pains. He looked comfortable in someone else's too-large longjohn top and the blue cotton drawstring pajama bottoms Aunt Emmaline had distributed to her patients in her Nurse Emma phase. Over that he wore an ancient tatty plaid flannel bathrobe, probably one of Jonesy's.
"You want to eat first or bathe first? Either's ready whenever you are."
"Eat, please... let me wash up."
Bringing two bowls to the table, Kim informed Sally that Jess and Carrie wouldn't be joining them—the girl had emerged from the back bedroom and sidled into the kitchen, timidly requesting a tray to take back.
Sally snickered. "How did she look?"
"Rumpled. Happy..." Kim paused. "I think satisfied is the word I'm looking for."
"Don't you love it when a plan comes together?"
"Pardon me?"
"Never mind. Eat your soup."
With the dishes washed and the food put away, Sally retreated to the front bedroom to gather her bath things. Kim had earlier fired up the little ceramic stove in there to banish the chill. The atmosphere in the washroom was just as steamy as before and Sally sank gratefully into the hot water.
Not for the first time she contemplated the question of whether Kim's thoughtfulness was part and parcel of his nature... or a result of his unique upbringing. Even Slim—damned near as perfect an example of his gender as was possible—wasn't always as attentive to detail as he could be. Jess now... there was a man who was always finely tuned to his surroundings and the people inhabiting them. Even he sometimes misread cues, though—too often to his own detriment... Sally'd heard the story of that sorry ex-lover who'd lured him to Mexico only to betray him.
Drying herself off and towel drying her hair, Sally slipped into a flannel nightgown and her own robe—hardly exotic lingerie but one had to make do. In the parlor Kim had commandeered one of the rockers and was reading a book by firelight with his feet up on the ottoman. Taking the other rocker, Sally bent her head forward so that her hair curtained her face and was easier to brush out. Soon it was dry enough to flip back so that it settled in brunette waves about her shoulders. Sliding to her knees, Sally positioned herself directly in front of Kim, looking up slightly. Bemused, he put the book down and her hands found his.
"Remember that afternoon up on the bluff?"
"How could I forget?"
"And I said there'd be a time...?"
"Ah... yes..."
"This is that time."
"You mean... now?"
"Now as in not tomorrow. C'mon, get up..."
When Sally stood up with both of Kim's hands imprisoned in hers, he had no choice but to follow.
"Sally... I... maybe this isn't such a good idea..."
"Maybe. But you're coming with me anyway..."
There were so many considerations—moral, ethical, propriety—why they shouldn't... but when Sally pressed her body to his, Kim knew resistance was futile. The heart wants what it wants... and biological imperative triumphs over common sense every time. When she kissed him, he responded with an intensity she wasn't expecting. Without disengaging they moved as one toward the front bedroom.
Having anticipated the frantic, oftimes clumsy, attempt at consummation that usually accompanies a first-time effort with a new—and younger—partner, Sally was pleasantly surprised. No overzealousness here, but unhurried hands and a charming hesitancy... letting her set the pace. In the flickering incandescence from the stove revealing their faces and bodies to each other, they talked and loved with a tenderness she'd never before experienced… not even with Slim, who'd been her best ever lover… so far.
Definitely worth the wait! And if it's this good now, how much better it'll be in the future... but I won't know, will I? He'll be gone by then... and there's nothing I can do about it. Sally, old girl... heed Aunt Em's advice and don't let yourself fall for this man. He's not yours. You can't keep him...
Drifting off, comfortably spooned with one arm protectively around Kim's chest, Sally wondered how the pair in the other room were doing.
