“If you’re gonna do it,” he suggested, “at least learn t’ do it with style.”
She laughed and accepted a light from him, cupping her hands over his and guiding the flaming straw to her thin cigar. Longarm wasn’t sure, but he thought there just might be more heat in the touch of her hands on his than there was in that burning straw tip. She sat there with a cheroot in one hand and a glass of fiery brandy in the other and gave him a lingering look of intense speculation. Speculation? he wondered then. Or promise?
He suspected, though, that Aggie Able wasn’t half as down-deep genuine tough as she wanted to make herself out to be. He kept remembering how timid she’d been when he was pounding on her door in the dark. That image was quite a contrast with this one.
Not that either one was his to worry about. Lawyer Able, quirky though she might be, was welcome to be and to do just as she pleased. She didn’t need his permission for any of it.
“When did you get in?” she asked, obviously wanting to strike up a conversation while they drank and smoked together.
He told her, and added a few bits about the lack of cooperation he’d found among her fellow townspeople. He played the tales for laughs, though; he wasn’t much on complaint.
“It could have been worse,” she said.
“Uh, huh. As it is, no harm done.”
‘Thank goodness.”
“How d’you get along here? I mean, you bein’ a lady lawyer an’ representing the Utes too?”
“Gracious, Longarm, I was already such a pariah that this thing with the Indians hardly added anything. Most of the men in town, certainly all the leading gentlemen of the community, were already convinced that I’m lesbian. Or worse. But I get along. The wives of those same men like me, you see. I’m something of a role model for them. Not that they want to become like me, exactly, but it pleases them to see that a woman can be free and independent if she wishes. So I get by.” She laughed and added, “It helps quite a lot, of course, that I’m rich.”
Longarm couldn’t help but chuckle. And then, involuntarily, he looked around at the small cabin where Aggie lived.
“Comfortable,” the lady corrected herself, obviously guessing what he’d been thinking. “Not dependent on them for my livelihood, anyway.”
“I can see how that’d help.”
Aggie tossed back the rest of her drink and went to fetch the bottle. She poured seconds for both of them and resumed her seat. “I’ve never known a deputy marshal before,” she said out of nowhere. “Are they all like you?” He shrugged. “Mostly, I suppose. More or less.”
“You don’t mind that I’m a lawyer and a woman.” “Nope.”
“I’m a good lawyer, Longarm.”
He nodded agreeably and took a sip of the applejack. The more he had of the stuff the smoother and tastier it got.
“I’m a good woman too.”
He nodded again.
“Do you have hair on your chest?”
“Bound to have. You guaranteed that I would, remember?”
“What if I want to see for myself?”
“Reckon I wouldn’t wrestle you t* prevent it.”
“You know, of course, that you won’t find any place to sleep in Snowshoe tonight. But I could put you up here. I only have one bed.”
He sipped the calvados again. It was really right nice. “A woman in my position wouldn’t dare let her defenses down, Longarm. Not with any of the men here no matter how attractive they might be.”
“No, I can see where that’d be a bad idea.”
“It wouldn’t do me any good with the ladies either if I started sleeping around with the men here. I wouldn’t be an inspiration to them any longer but a threat. They would worry that I might take their husbands away. Better if they think I’m sexless. Or lesbian. Can you believe it? I’ve never been openly propositioned by a man in this town, but two of the women have tried to seduce me. And they weren’t ladies of the night who did that either. Both of them were respectable married women.”
“I’d believe it,” Longarm said.
“I am not carved from stone, Longarm. I have feelings just like anyone. I have needs. I haven’t felt a man’s arms around me since I came here. Not once, Longarm.”
He set his drink down on the table, and carefully stubbed his cheroot out in the ashtray.
“Does that stuff put hair on a lady’s chest too?” he asked.
“We shall have to look and see,” Aggie suggested.
He stood, took her by the hand, and pulled her to her feet. He disposed of her glass and her cigar, then bent and slipped one arm behind her knees, the other behind her back. He lifted her off her feet, cradling her across his chest. Agnes Bertha Able was a much more substantial female than he’d expected. Not enough to buckle his knees or anything close to it, but certainly more than he’d bargained for. Still, he managed to make her think she was feather light and that he could carry her like this indefinitely if he wished. This, he figured, this sort of domination by a man, a possession of sorts, was very likely what she really needed more than anything else.
He could feel that already her breath was coming in short, panting gasps. No priming needed, she was already set to explode. By now he bet her drawers were already soaked. She put her arms around him and buried her face against the side of his neck while he carried her into the bedroom, leaving the office lights burning to be tended afterward if anyone wanted to bother.
‘That was wonderful, Longarm. Marvelous. I haven’t felt this good in ... I can’t tell you when. Never, I suppose. Not like this. Not ever this good before.” She reached down and gave his cock a squeeze.
A slightly too vigorous squeeze, actually. He winced and tried not to show the pain.
Aggie fetched an ashtray from the bedside and balanced it on her chest. Longarm took the hint and lighted cheroots for both of them.
“I think I forgot to tell you earlier, but these cigars of yours are wonderful. Much better than those awful things I’ve been buying. I never would have believed there could be so much difference.”
“Quality,” he said. “It counts in everything.”
“So it does,” she agreed. “So it does.” She smiled. “And now I know what quality in a man is too.” This time he was able to intercept her hand before she got to him. If she missed the cock and grabbed his nuts by mistake she might turn them into pulp. He squeezed her hand, smiled, raised it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles one by one. She liked that well enough that he could see her turning wet and homy all over again. “You are a beautiful man, Custis Long. Marvelous. Has anyone ever told you before that you are beautiful? It doesn’t embarrass you, does it?” “It doesn’t embarrass me,” he said.
“Has anyone ever told you before that you are beautiful?” “No,” he lied. “Never.”
“You’re beautiful.” She turned her head and kissed his chest.
What she was looking for, of course, was some compliments coming back her way. And shit, he supposed there wouldn’t be any getting around it. She’d just keep fishing until she caught something. He might as well do it now and get it done with.
But not the truth. Lordy, Lordy, not the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Shee-it, not that.
Longarm smiled and leaned close so he could look the woman square in the eyes.
“You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” he said, and kissed her.