horse buyer; in fact, he very often bought horses on some of his trips. That had been a bone of contention between Billy Vail and himself for many years—the fact that Longarm would leave with one or two horses shipped at government expense and come back with four, all shipped at government expense as well. He sometimes thought that Billy Vail just didn’t see the overall picture.
He didn’t expect that Shirley Dunn would be a drinking lady, so he treated himself to some whiskey before he headed out for her house. He was shaved and bathed and had on his best clothes, such as they were. He had even had his boots shined by the boy down at the barbershop, and his hat had been brushed. It was July, so it was still fair light by the time he swung open the gate to her picket fence and walked up the path to her porch and knocked on the door.
She opened it and for a second, Longarm didn’t recognize her. She was the same size and the face looked the same, but she was altogether a different woman. Her hair was down in long silken waves and she was wearing some sort of a green silk outfit that you might have taken for a robe except that it fit so much closer. He didn’t really get much of a chance to examine her because she held the door open wide, beckoning him to come on in. He stepped across the threshold, his hat in his hand, still amazed at the transformation in this delicate woman. She led him into the parlor. As she walked, he could see that the robe-like dress was slit up one side. It came almost to her ankles but not quite, and beneath the hem of the garment, he could see that she was wearing dainty, jeweled slippers.
He said, “Well, Mrs. Dunn, this is certainly mighty obliging of you, having me over for supper.” He could feel himself stammering and searching for something to say that didn’t make him sound like he was a complete idiot, but he was having difficulty because he couldn’t take his eyes off her and the way that the dress clung. Never before had he seen her dressed that way.
She sensed him staring at her and she smiled. “It’s Chinese,” she said, “I bought it a few years back in San Francisco when I lived there with my husband. I haven’t had a chance to wear it since then, so I thought it would be nice to wear it now. It has a name, but I’m not sure what you would call it—I knew at one time but I’ve forgotten.”
He said, “Well, it’s mighty fetching, ma’am.”
She said, “Custis, you look all confused. Sit down and let me get you something to drink.”
She disappeared. He was expecting her to reappear with a pitcher of lemonade. Instead, he was shocked to see her coming back with a tray on which rested a little pitcher of water, two glasses, and a bottle of very respectable bourbon whiskey. He would have bet that not only had whiskey never passed her lips, but it had never passed her threshold either.
She set the tray down on a little table in front of the divan he was sitting on. Then she came around the table and sat next to him.
“Shall I pour for you, Custis?”
“Well, yes, ma’am. I would be much obliged if you would.” He was still trying desperately to recover from the shock that she had given him, first by the way she had fixed her hair, then by the dress she wore, and now by the way she fixed his whiskey.
She poured him a good solid tumbler. She said, “I’ve got a feeling that you are the kind of man who takes his drink neat.”
“Well, you’d be right about that, Mrs. Dunn.”
She said, “Do you really feel obliged to call me Mrs. Dunn? Can’t you just call me Shirley?”
He stammered a little bit and said, “Of course, Shirley. There, that came out all right, didn’t it?”
She laughed. When she did, she looked much younger than the mid-thirties he had originally figured her for. She said, “I have to take a little bit of water in mine. Too much spirits make me ardent, or is that why they call them ardent spirits?”
He almost blushed. “Well, I … I reckon that I never put the two of them together. Ardent spirits? That’s a pretty good joke, Mrs.-I mean, Shirley.”
She mixed her drink half and half, pouring water out of the pitcher, and then held her glass up for a toast. He raised his and they clinked.
He said, “To luck.”
She said, “To love.”
It was one more shock in the continuing series of surprises she was throwing at him. He downed his drink in one quick swallow, shuddering a little at the hard bite of the bourbon. As soon as he set it back down on the tray, she quickly poured it full for him again.
She said, arching a brow at him, “Are you always so quick, Custis?”
He took up his glass and drank half of it. He said, “Shirley, have you got a twin sister?”
She laughed. “No, not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
He looked around. “It’s just that I have the feeling that either I am in the wrong house or that you are.”
She laughed again. “You think that I have to be the same person all the time? Can’t a girl have a little fun once in a while?”
He took a quick gulp from his glass. He said, his throat getting thick, “Oh, I am all for that, Shirley. I am really all for that. Yes, ma’am, indeed I am.”
She was sitting very close to him and he was very aware of her body. He could smell the scent of her perfume, the power of the musk—a feminine musk that emanated from her. He let his right arm, which had been along the back of the divan, casually fall around her shoulders. Effortlessly, she came to him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her face uptilted. He set his glass down with his left hand while he looked into her eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her, gently at first, and then with growing passion. He felt her hand slide around to the back of his neck. She was twisting herself so that the whole front of her body was up against him. For a second, he pulled back. His breathing was coming hard and labored. He looked down at her face—her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. He began to kiss her again. As he did, he let his left hand go to her back and then come around the silken cloth until he touched the side of her breasts. He could tell that she was wearing nothing underneath the
