The main room of the saloon was occupied by the bartender, four men standing at the bar, two men at a table playing gin rummy, and one man asleep in a chair, his muddy boots propped on the table, his Stetson pulled down over his eyes. Cigar haze and the smells of bourbon and draught beer filled the air. Dirty clothes worn several weeks - some even several months - reeked of heavy perspiration, loose farts, and equally offensive other body odors.
The mattresses and scant pillows in the sleeping rooms upstairs (all, save one) smelled equally as bad. Body lice was fairly common.
Bill the blacksmith was the only man in this small town who owned a tub big enough for bathing, and the tub was crammed in the back corner of the loft, over the livery stable he had inherited from the last owner. Currently, the tub was painted with bird droppings from the pigeon nests in the rafters, and filled with stray tools, old boots, rags...and a mother cat nursing six kittens. The porcelain was scratched and chipped, but not yet rusted. There was no drainhole.
Walt, Rake, Jesse, Bill and Tom stood at the bar, arguing about water. O'Toole, the Chinese bartender, dried shot glasses, listened intently, and stealthily eyed the men's reflections in the big mirror behind the bar. Every fifteen minutes for the last two hours, O'Toole lugged buckets of hot water upstairs, boiled on the stove in the kitchen off the bar. A fastidiously clean man, O'Toole washed and pressed his clothes once a week.
"You don't normally do washin' on a Wednesday, O'Toole," Walt noticed. "And that sure is a hell of a lot of water you're totin'. Your barrel outside must be near empty."
"Yes, O'Toole replied. "Busy, busy. Must be clean. Cook in kitchen busy, busy, too."
Rake said, "Well, the creek is gonna dry up one of these days, and they's gotta be a well dug for this town. If we ain't got water, we ain't got women. And we need women." He scratched the crotch of his well-worn britches and picked a flea off his sleeve, squeezing it between his long fingernails.
"Yeah?" said Walt, running the back of his hand under his nose. His beard and mustache were stained with chewing tobacco. "And jes' how we gonna get a well dug for women if we ain't got women to get more men here to dig the well? Men jes' ain't gonna come where they ain't no women, and women ain't gonna come where they ain't no water handy for bathin'and washin'."
"That's right," Tom said. "Women don't like to bathe in the creek when they ain't enough bushes to hide behind, and that creek ain't got nary a shrub or tree nearby of any height. Women like it private. But I'd surely love to watch 'em get nekkid and wet with them nice smellin' soaps all bubbly and shinin', suds all over their ... mmm, mmm, mmmmmm." He picked his nose, rolled the booger between his thumb and forefinger, then flicked it into space. "Yessir, I would surely love to see that."
Jesse pushed his hat back from his forehead, and hung his boot on the bar rail attached to the bottom of the bar. "We're here, ain't we? And we're men. We came knowin' they ain't no gals here. We took the risk. "
Bill smiled a broad, somewhat toothless grin, and said in his slow drawl, "We come here
to pan for gold, and that's that. Didn't matter there weren't no women when all we wanted was the gold. Now that we got a jingle in our pockets, and a stash in our mattresses, now we want women. Can't have one without the other, fer sure. Ain't no fun havin' so much money when they ain't a bunch a purty women to spend it all for ya."
O'Toole turned to the men and said, "Dogs barking far off. Stagecoach is coming."
Their eyes got bright with excitement until Rake said, "This is just delivery. No one rides into Destry mid-week. Never."
They listened to the sounds of wagon wheels pounding the dirt road in the distance, and collectively knew the coach would arrive any minute. But with no passengers on it, they all turned back to the bar, uninterested, and began the argument again about the well and when they should start digging, how long it would take, where it should be located, etc.
Tom piped in again, that big smile on his face, "Let's hurry, boys, so we can get them women here! Nekkid women washin'. I tell ya, I can't wait to see 'em!"
The stage coach pulled up right in front of O'Toole's, and the driver hopped down. He wiped his hands on the back of his pants, removed his hat and smoothed down his hair, then ran the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth before he stepped to the door of the coach and dropped a wooden box on the ground.
"We're here in Destry, Miss. Right here at O'Toole's, like I promised."
"Oh, Mr. Driver, Sweetie. You have been so very kind. Allow me to offer you my hankie. You may return it to me for redemption the next time you come through, you dear, wonderful man!"
Talk at the bar came to a halt, and all heads quickly turned at the sound of the woman's soft, slow drawl. O'Toole ran from behind the bar to the swinging doors, and held them open. Small female feet in the daintiest of heels clicked across the boardwalk to the entry of the saloon, and the swish of silks, satin, and petticoats announced her arrival right before she stepped through the doors.
O'Toole offered her both of his clean and well-manicured hands, and he bowed low. "Miss GG, welcome to Destry. You are more lovely than I imagined!"
The driver stepped through the doors carrying the first of GG's three trunks. "S'cuse me, Miss GG. I'll set these down right here. He looked up at the men in the room as he placed the trunk on the floor. His cheek and the corner of his mouth carried the unmistakable imprint of GG's lip rouge.
The two gin rummy players laid down their cards, while the men at the bar stood open-mouthed and could only stare. GG was more than a sight for sore eyes. Surely she was a vision and not real. Her dress was layer upon layer of purple and black satin, edged all around with four inches of white and black lace. Though it dragged the ground behind her, the front of her dress was a full eighteen inches high off the floor, showing her feet in black lace-up ankle heels, holding up holy shit lovely legs. Pretty little legs showcased in silk! The men's eyes traveled uniformly from her feet all the way up the front of her dress. Not only was the top of her dress open, the cleavage of her enormous titties was exposed, showcased in ribbons, silk and lace, and she dabbed a fresh hankie on her bared bosom. On her head was pinned the latest fashion from Paris, well illustrated with several large ostrich plumes.
"Thank you so kindly, Mr. O'Toole!" GG said. She removed the pin from her hat and held it delicately in her gloved hands.
"Please, Miss GG. Please call me Chin. I've waited a long time to hear you say my name out loud."
"Yes, Chin. Chin O'Toole. Thank you.
"It has been a rather warm day," she sighed, "and I'm afraid I am really quite the mess. It was a very long ride from St. Louis. The dust of the road is in my hair and on my skin, and I do so need a long, luxurious naked bath! Please tell me you have it ready for me. I really must strip completely out of my traveling clothes, and bathe my naughty, naked skin before you formally present me to these magnificent gentlemen gathered here."
Chin bowed again. "Your bath awaits upstairs, Miss. GG."
Jake knocked over his beer on the bar as he reached out to Walt, hit him on the chest, and said, "Walt! Close your mouth!"
Walt coughed and choked, dropped his cowboy hat, then stooped to pick it up. His hand reached out aimlessly, far from his hat, because he was not looking at the floor. His eyes were transfixed on GG's exposed titties. The very tips of her nipples were not completely hidden behind the miniscule inch of black lace, and in his mind he was already exposing, kissing, fondling and sucking them.
GG curtsied, kissed O'Toole's cheek, stepped away from O'Toole and walked toward the men at the bar.
She said, "Looks like I need to speak to this gentleman before that bath, Chin. He is giving me an unmistakably happy greeting."
GG sashayed her silks and satins over to Walt, bent to guide him up from his stooped position, leaving his hat on the floor five feet away. Walt's eyes never left her titties. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his scrubby face, and exclaimed, "Sir! How lovely to meet you. I appreciate your unabashed and involuntary welcome of my presence. I hope we have many opportunities to speak and play in less formal circumstances. I have missed the exposure of healthy male cocks while traveling, and I sincerely appreciate your magnificent specimen which stood at attention upon my entry today!"
Walt stood stock still, holding his breath.
"May I touch him softly, pretty please?" GG asked.
Walt nodded slowly, his mouth still open.
GG batted her eyelashes several times, kissed the corner of his mouth again, and ran her hand along his cock over the top of his pants. Walt's knees buckled and he grabbed the bar.
