A/N: In the final episode of season 20 (the Sodbusters) we briefly see a flyer for a 'Full Body Massage- for men' (14 min, 12 second mark on the DVD). And this prompted me to wonder: what would happen if Kitty found the flyer in Matt's office?
Kitty wasn't one to pry. She didn't have to. Plying men with drinks and getting them to talk was a specialty of hers, and it didn't take much before most were spilling their deepest, darkest secrets to her itching ears. Behind the security and sanctity of the fabled batwing doors, the married and the unmarried, the religious and the atheist, the rich and poor alike- all lost their inhibitions and loosened their tongues, and Kitty Russel learned from them all manner of wild things.
Matt Dillon was a different beast from those men. Reticent and deeply private, he'd shared enough with Kitty for her to understand that she was exclusively his girl, and she'd shared enough with him that he knew he was exclusively her man. Each was aware of unnamed secrets lurking in their respective pasts, and by mutual, unspoken agreement, they never discussed it. What they had with each other was enough.
Or so Kitty thought.
She'd gone to the Marshal's office that morning in the hopes of catching Matt before he made afternoon plans- it was the perfect day for a picnic- but he was off running errands or something and she found the office empty. He'd not unpacked his bags from his trip to New Orleans, and from the rumpled appearance of the cot in the corner, Kitty wondered just how late the train last night had arrived. She straightened the blanket over the thin mattress, tucked in the edges, and then, feeling herself to be in a rare 'mothering' mood, she proceeded through the office, cleaning as she went.
When Chester had lived here, he'd kept the office spic and span, and though it always lacked a feminine touch, the jail during those times had at least seemed somewhat civilized. Since Festus became deputy, however, things had gone downhill. Kitty adored the mountain man for his loyalty and admired him for his breadth of unusual knowledge, but neither he nor Matt seemed to have the first clue or care to keep the jail in any kind of appropriate condition.
In its current state, the jail maintained its distinct odor of manliness: the scent of wood smoke, saddle leather, and gun oil; but added to it a layer of grime, dirt, and general un-tidiness that bespoke the distinct absence of a woman's presence.
By the time Kitty had worked her way around the room to Matt's desk, she was feeling rather put-out. Surely two grown men could do at least a little cleaning?
With a long-suffering sigh, she picked up the stack of new wanted posters scattered across Matt's desk and carefully tapped them into a nice, neat pile.
From this pile, one fell out.
Stooping, she picked it up. It was smaller than the rest and folded, not rolled. Laying it on the top of the pile, she unfolded it, expecting to see the rough sketch of a dangerous outlaw, or large, bold letters declaring "$500 REWARD."
Instead, Kitty found herself face-to-face with a busty, scantily-clad woman, armed with…
She leaned closer, squinting. Was that a whip?
No, apparently a sword. A foil or rapier, she wasn't sure which, long and thin. Another foil could be seen on the ground in the background of the sketch, but Kitty's focus was captured by the woman, who had raised her own sword up over her head and bent it backwards with her other hand as though about to bring it down on some poor fellow's head.
Or on something else.
Kitty's cheeks flushed.
Tearing her eyes from the picture, she finally read the text that accompanied it:
"FULL BODY MASSAGE" proclaimed the title.
That -by itself, sans illustration- could be innocent enough.
"For men" however, stated the smaller text underneath.
Kitty frowned.
"By professional masseuse" came line three.
Kitty snorted. Professional. But, then, who was she to complain about the wording? Before Matt, she had certainly made a 'professional' living of a similar sort.
As her thoughts turned to the lawman, Kitty found herself feeling suddenly angry. Not that they had ever actually agreed to be exclusive- it was just understood between them, she thought- and now Kitty felt betrayed.
Then she caught herself.
No. No, just because the paper was here, on his desk, it did not mean that Matt had actually visited this establishment. Besides, Matt had just come back from a trip. He wouldn't have been anywhere near this place. Matt had just spent the past two weeks on business in New Orleans, and this paper was for a 'masseuse' in… Kitty scanned the page.
"Steam Bath- 555 Canal Street, New Orleans."
Well. She slammed the paper down on the desk with a jealous huff. Having lived herself in New Orleans before coming to Dodge, she was well aware of Canal Street and the particular establishments that lined that area alongside the docks. The businesses were carefully and deliberately planted to take full advantage of the hoards of lonely sailors who would have a few short nights in port and needed some very particular comforts.
One did not accidentally wander from the city proper down to that area, either. If Matt went to this 'Steam Bath' place, he went on purpose.
"Very relaxing" the side bar of text informed her. Oh yes, I'm sure it was very relaxing, Kitty thought cynically.
"Private rooms." Kitty certainly hoped the rooms would be private. No decent person would do those sorts of things in a common room. And, the judge and jury in her brain argued, no decent bath house would need private rooms, either, unless something else besides a massage were taking place.
Feeling her fury rise again, she forced herself to read on before she accidentally ripped the paper to shreds.
"Free towels and beverages." Well, that was innocuous enough. The Long Branch had beverages, though they were only free on occasion. But there was no danger from these words, at least.
And here she paused for a moment, thinking.
Was it possible, she asked herself, that Matt had gone simply for a massage and bath and nothing else? Just an innocent country boy seeking to get to get clean after a long and difficult journey? Even Dodge had a bath house; Matt had been there on occasion, after returning from a long and dusty trail ride.
Then she looked again at the picture and wondered if this establishment even had a basic bath-only package. She doubted it.
"Very discreet" the next line proclaimed. But of course, Kitty thought sarcastically. Discreetly was the only way to do those sorts of things.
"By appointment only." This final line, in the smallest text, proved to be the final nail in the Marshal's coffin in Kitty's mind. This 'steam bath' business was not a place that Matt could have simply wandered into after losing his way on New Orleans' dark, gas-lit roads at night. Matt could not simply walk in off the street. No, this visit took planning and effort. He had to make an appointment.
The judge in her head slammed down the gavel and the jury screamed out for justice. No quick death would do- the vile traitor deserved to be tarred and feathered before being drawn and quartered.
The glossy paper creased beneath her fingers, a wrinkle appearing over the picture. Kitty glared at it and wondered if Matt's masseuse had looked anything like the woman in the picture. With an impossibly small waist and attractive bust and hips, the woman presented an impossible image, one that no real woman could ever compete with.
Was that why Matt had gone?
Kitty's hand fell to her own waist, pinching her side under the embroidered cloth. Was she no longer attractive? She knew the years had added to her figure in more than a few places, and she had covered it up as best as she could with an array of smartly-tailored dresses and carefully-placed jewelry. Matt never led her to believe she was anything other than beautiful, but perhaps he was just being nice. He was, after all, something of a gentleman under his stern lawman exterior.
Or perhaps he had needs that she had not been able to satisfy lately. He was a man, Kitty reasoned, and they seemed to work a bit differently from women. Frowning, she considered this new and frankly distressing idea.
Perhaps, in keeping this from her, Matt was trying to protect? To keep her from feeling inadequate in being able to meet his own needs?
Whatever the purpose for his visit to the 'steam baths,' Kitty knew Matt wouldn't just carry around a flyer unless it was important for some reason. The fact that he had this particular flyer on his desk meant that it carried some significance, and Kitty wondered just what exactly the 'professional masseuse' had done to him. Why did he feel the need to keep this paper as a memento, a keepsake of his visit?
Wrapped up in all of these thoughts, Kitty failed to hear the heavy footsteps on the boardwalk, nor the slight creak of the door opening behind her. A hand reached out, touched her arm gently.
"Hello, Kitty."
Kitty started. Dropping the flyyer, she hastily turned around and leaned against the desk to hide the item of her obsession. Matt gave her a brief, quizzical smile, hooked his hat on the peg on the wall, and promptly enfolded her in a tight embrace.
"I missed you," he murmured into her hair.
"Mmm," Kitty replied, not quite able to return the sentiment.
"Train was delayed twice- trees fell across the tracks."
"Hmm."
"Thought I would never get home."
"Uh-huh."
Sensing something amiss, he eased back from her and laid a hand on either shoulder, holding her at arm's length. Worry creased his brow. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She offered him a smile, quick and professional, the kind that didn't reach her eyes.
"Huh." Scratching a hand over his curly head, he glanced around the room, searching for the source of the apparent trouble. His eye fell on the made bed. "Thanks for straightening up. I got in pretty late."
"I guessed as much." Averting her eyes, she turned away, suddenly eager to be somewhere else.
"I know I missed breakfast, but I was thinking maybe we could do supper together?" he asked hopefully. "Delmonico's?"
"Maybe."
Still looking a bit confused and now disappointed, he sat down at his desk, clearing a space immediately in front of him. The 'full body massage' flyer still lay open on top, and Kitty found herself staring at it.
"Kitty?"
She looked up and realized suddenly that she has missed something. Whatever he'd just said, Kitty hadn't heard.
"You sure you're alright?"
"Fine." She smoothed a hand over her hair, her mind racing as she tried to think. "How was New Orleans?" she asked, innocently.
"Oh fine, fine. Sorry you couldn't come with me- I had to hire a local to show me around."
"Oh?" Her cheeks flushed at the thought. "What did she show you?"
"How'd you know it was a 'she'?" Matt asked in confusion. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "She showed me the sights. She was very knowledgeable, very…" he paused, searching for the word.
" 'Professional'?" Kitty suggested with barely-contained malice. "So where'd you go on this 'tour'?"
"Oh, she took me everywhere, I guess. We must've walked ten miles around that city. French Quarter wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but the Tulane-Gravier district- now there's a place." He grinned up at her, clearly pleased at his unamusing attempt at French.
"So I've heard," Kitty ground out. Canal Street cut through Tulane-Gravier. Her eyes flashed angrily "I suppose you found your 'tour guide' locally, somehow?"
"Recommendation from the men at the branch office there. Her name was Suzette." Still a face of innocence, Matt cheerfully continued to dig deeper into his own grave. "She reminded me a lot of you."
"Did she?" Kitty could barely contain her fury as the marshal of Dodge smiled brazenly at her. "She must've been quite some woman."
"Yes, she… ah…" The smile faltered; uncertainty flickered across Matt Dillon's face. "Well, she, uh… she wasn't you," he haltingly replied. Cocking his head, he played the role of naïve concern. "Kitty, are you sure nothing's wrong? You know I couldn't take you with me this time…"
"Of course not." Bitter sarcasm laced her voice. "You had too much going on."
"Well yeah. I was in meetings pretty much the whole time."
"Except for the 'tour' with Suzette."
Perhaps it was the venom in her voice; perhaps the nails digging into the side of his desk did the trick. Either way, Matt stopped as he finally realized that something was deeply, intolerably amiss. Silently, he tracked her gaze, which had fallen from his face to the pile of papers on his desk. His eye caught the one on top, and he suddenly understood.
"Is that what's bothering you?" Unexpectedly, Matt broke into a deep, hearty laugh. Picking up the flyer from his desk, he opened it up and scanned the contents, still chuckling as he pieced together what Kitty had been thinking. "Kitty, this isn't mine."
"Next you'll tell me that's not 'Suzette'."
"It isn't."
"And you didn't visit this steam bath on Canal Street?"
"Never even saw it."
"And I suppose this flyer isn't even from New Orleans?"
"Kitty, I can-"
"-explain it? How?"
Matt Dillon had faced danger often enough to know that he was in a very precarious situation. Sensing his close proximity to an untimely end, Matt weighed his words carefully before finally responding. "There was another man from New Orleans on that train last night."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Some out-of-luck riverboat gambler." He watched her face, searching for any sign of an impending execution. "He rode up here on his last dollar."
"And this flyer belongs to him?"
Matt nodded.
"And you just happened to acquire it?"
Matt sighed. Taking the paper from her hands, he said, "Kitty, the man ran out of money during the trip. After a couple of hours in town, he came up with the idea to steal and sell Festus's mule to some illiterate sod buster using this as the bill of sale." Shaking his head, Matt dropped the flyer back on the desk. "I just got done sorting all of that out. Took me most of the morning, too."
"And Suzette?" Kitty dared him to explain.
"A local woman who owns a warehouse business on the waterfront. Great source of inside information on the local criminal element. The Marshal's office has been using her to give greenhorns like me an introduction to the city."
"Oh."
"Like I said, she reminds me of you- strong, independent-"
"She owns an entire warehouse?"
"It's not as nice as the Long Branch."
"Mmhm." Kitty still felt a bit jealous. Picking up the flyer again, she stared at the woman on the front. "That man used this as a bill of sale?" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head incredulously. "But the picture! How could that farmer not know?"
"Don't ask me, but the farmer didn't realize. He forked over ten dollars and rode off on Ruth with this in his pocket."
Now it began to seem a little funny, and Kitty found herself smiling in spite of herself. "Poor Festus."
"Poor Ruth!" Matt countered. "She was out pulling a plow when I picked her up."
"But she's back?"
"Safe and sound."
Some of the tension finally fled and Kitty relaxed. "What'd you do with the man who stole her?"
"Put him to work over with Moss. He's gotta earn back that ten dollars he owes the farmer. I figure that'll take him a few weeks, and then a few more to earn his train fare out of here."
"Better than arresting him, I suppose."
"Couldn't get rid of him that way," Matt agreed. Then he suddenly got a sly look in his eyes and winked at her. "Say, according to this flyer, I seem to have missed out on some of the action while I was down there. Ain't you from New Orleans?"
Kitty smiled at his attempt at a drawl. "I am."
"What is this 'discreet massage bath house' thing? Never seen one of those before."
"I'm afraid we don't have any of those in Dodge."
"Really? That's a shame. Thought there was a bath house up the street."
"It doesn't come with a-" she craned her head around him to catch the words on the page properly, "a 'professional masseuse'."
"And I absolutely need one of those?"
"Oh yes, for the proper experience you absolutely do."
"And there's none in Dodge City?"
"Well…" Kitty smiled coyly up at him, "I have an idea where you might find one. Just so happens she comes from New Orleans. Not sure how good she would be at the massage, though."
"But does she speak French?"
"Oi."
Matt's face split into a hungry grin. Yanking the door open and jamming his hat onto his head, he beckoned Kitty down the side alley and toward the stairs at the back of the Long Branch.
And that was the last anybody saw of them for the rest of the day.
