continuing to shed cloth like a molting hen in a wind storm.
“Another thing to bear in mind, my friend, is that most of what you hear will quite probably be true. If you hear something outrageous, that is. I love to tweak these fools’ noses, and for some reason plain, simple, pleasant sex is a good way to do that. Can you imagine? Why would anyone care what anyone else does in bed? Or with whom?” She tossed the last wisps of lace onto the chair and turned, huge and flabby and about as appealing to look at as a three-days-dead trout, to display herself in all her glory.
“You see, my dear new friend, this has always amazed me but never discouraged me. The simple truth is that I like sex. More, I love sex. I just plain adore the feel of a stiff poker in my snatch. I love the sight, the texture, the taste of something nice and hard. And I love to feel them inside me. Anywhere inside me I love it all. If you can think of a way to get one into a nostril or an ear canal I’m game to try the position. You know?” She giggled and flopped onto the bed, legs asprawl and her furry mound prominent. “I’ve loved it ever since Randy … isn’t that a perfectly delightful name for a girl’s first beau? … ever since Randy Travers grabbed my tit… at the time it was hardly big enough to be grabbed, actually… and put a hand under my skirt to feel me up. That was at my thirteenth-birthday party. We were playing hide-and-seek, and Randy and I were both hiding in the hay loft.” She laughed again. “It took them a hell of a time to find us, let me tell you. Long enough for me to get off four, five times right in a row there. The first couple times from Randy fingering me and the rest when he put his cock in me. He didn’t want to. Can you imagine? He thought he was scaring me when he shoved his finger in me. Ha! He’s the one who ended up scared. I liked it so much I wouldn’t let him go until he satisfied me. But he got over being scared. Randy and I went at it nearly every day the summer after my birthday that year. Then Randy enlisted and went off to the war.” Her expression changed, becoming wistful and slightly sad. “He never came back, of course. He was fifteen when he left. I never heard how old he made it to before he got himself killed. Clumsy little guy. He wasn’t much, poor Randy. But in his own way he loved me.”
She sighed. “He was my first, though of course no one ever knew. Not until years later.” Her mood brightened. “He certainly was not the last, though. I tell you truly, I loved it and I still do. But one thing you have to know. I have never, ever, not in my whole life taken anything in exchange for screwing. Not money, not secrets, not favors, not anything like that. I spread my legs for the pleasure of it, dear friend Longarm. Not for any other reason. And don’t you let anybody, I mean not any living soul, try and tell you otherwise. Promise me that, will you? Please?”
“Janie, I believe you. Indeed I do.”
Her smile was sweet and soft. “Thank you, dear friend Longarm.” She opened her arms wide. And her legs as well. “Now come over here, cowboy, and give me some fun.”
“I thought you wanted …”
“To talk? Of course. But later, okay? First we screw, then we talk afterward. Now come here, sweetie, before I get so wet I’ll drench your bed and you won’t be able to sleep dry the whole time you’re here.”
Now just what the hell was a man supposed to do when faced with a flabby, homely, naked female that he really did not want to screw? He didn’t want to insult her, dammit. But he didn’t want to crawl on top of her either. Janie Sproul reminded him of one of those female spiders that takes a mate and then kills the used-up little sonuvabitch by sucking all the juices out of its body afterward. Looking at Janie lying there with one saucer-sized nipple tucked into each armpit … well … it wasn’t a sight to promote a hard-on, that was for sure.
Yet the truth was that he kinda liked her. For her honesty if nothing else. And she was the only human person in Addington—the only one other than Amos Vent, that is, and Amos didn’t count because he didn’t know a thing more than Longarm did about the true situation here—who was willing to talk to him. So what the hell were his choices about this? Climb onboard and see what—or who—came next? Or reject the offer and probably make an enemy of the only damn friend he’d found here? There were times, Longarm reflected, when duty asked an awful lot of a man.
“Sweetheart?” Janie prompted, reaching down to finger herself and pull her snatch wide open, resulting in the display of something that looked remarkably similar to a leather valise laid ready to receive ten or twelve pounds of important documents.
Longarm managed a weak smile. He swallowed. Hard. And wondered if passing out in a dead faint would help.
Chapter 14
Janie Sproul was, well, to be honest about it, Longarm concluded, the woman just wasn’t a very good piece of ass. She was flabby. Which wasn’t so bad really except that she was flabby all over. Inside as well as out. She’d been used so long and so often—he had no opinion as to how well—that her pussy was loose, sloppy, and stretched so far that he could scarcely feel any contact with her. Which was distracting as all hell.
He grunted and wallowed, wriggled this way and then that, poked and prodded … nothing he did seemed to result in much in the way of feeling. And the truth is that it takes more than a good idea for a man to get his rocks off. He has to feel … well… something, anyway. A little heat, a modicum of feeling… some damn thing has to be there if it is going to be any good for him.
As for Janie, shit, she seemed to be having the screw of a lifetime, at least judging by the way she moaned and quivered and carried on.
True to her word, the damn woman yelped and hollered and got herself off half a dozen times. If not by actual count, then not far from it. Seemed like every thirty seconds or so she would shudder and tremble and growl, “I’m coming, oh, oh, I’m coming, cowboy.”
And he would poke around some more in that great, damp emptiness that was her, and sure enough, a couple seconds later she’d grab on with arms, legs, teeth, and eyeballs while she went through another set of spasms.
After a while Longarm commenced to get somewhat jealous. Why the hell should she have all the fun?
“Pull your legs together.”
“What, honey?”
“Your legs,” he repeated. “Put them together.” He lifted himself off the mattress a bit so she could bring her legs under his thighs, and when she did that he was lying atop her somewhat more than ample body, his legs outside hers so he was the one doing the straddling except that his cock, fortunately more than long enough to permit the method, was still inside her. That squeezed her lips together and made it if not actually tight then at least close enough that he could tell he was inside something. Before it had felt kind of like dipping his wick into a pot of lukewarm machine oil. Not exactly thrilling.
“Oh, I do like this,” she said once she felt what he’d done. “Tight.”
