“I’d rather be swinging on a star than crouched over this bowl of stale pretzels,” Thomas moaned into his lowball. Continue reading
Sunlight flashed a line ‘cross the floor
Rusty squeak of batwing doors
A buckaroo walks into a bar… Continue reading
Lula’s Full Moons 40 Saloon, nestled into the western-most corner Zeta-5’s Rest and Rehab Station, was half full of the usual hands, lounging in leathers and 10-gallon hats, or tipping back shots in titillating bustiers and full ruffled skirts. Or jeans and flip flops. Lula didn’t care, just so long as folks were respectful and they paid their bar bill.
Lotta Du Charms relished the feel of canvas around her legs, leather and horseflesh between her thighs. Continue reading
Lula, at forty, was too old to be a whore, and too smart to be a madam. Scratching a living from the arid Oklahoma soil did not appeal to her.
She never did cotton to book learning. At least, not the kind of learning offered at the town’s one-room school house. It squatted at the edge of town like a carbuncle, Continue reading