Regina and the Hardcase

"As the bastard leveled the double barrelled shotgun at the thin man, he had the confidence of a schoolyard bully, absent the knowledge that this would be his last act on earth."

"Just a handjob mister, that is all you paid for." Eleanor said as she looked up at the haggered man.

Eleanor Wiggins was not a new whore. Her demure manner outweighed her misplaced features and made her considerably more attractive than her face alone. She hated being a prostitute and was secretly stashing money away to collect her sister and start a dress shop. She wasn't sure just how much money it would take to do that but she was certain this would only last for a short while longer. She was gifted with a needle and thread and when asked how she had developed such a talent she playfully announced "I have my hands on little things all day long, I have lots of practice!" The girls in the Promenade never got tired of hearing her say that.

"Mister, you said hand job. Fifty cents you agreed on it." She said still looking up at the grungy patron.

"Yeah well I changed my mind, put it in your mouth. I ain't gettin' hard with just yer hand bitch."

That was not uncommon for many men, Eleanor had seen it often. The men get full of cheap whisky then they can't manage an erection. What Eleanor also knew, all too well, was that she would carry the blame for that in the eyes of the humiliated man.

"That is $2.00 mister plus fifty cents for the hand job and another fifty cents cause you ain't washed." Eleanor explained matter of factly.

"Oh that's rich...a whore that thinks she is a banker...bitch you will suck me until I get off because you owe me.."

The man's tone was angry and Eleanor felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew where this was heading.

Eleanor stood up and walked near the edge of the bed. She pretended she was going to comply, and motioned for the man to come over to her.

Frank Nubb grabbed his pants with one hand and managed to get them back up as high as his mid shins, then he awkwardly began to shuffle toward Eleanor.

Ellie, taking advantage of his lack of attention reached near the table. Her hand found a crank handle, without taking her eyes off Frank she gave the crank several quick turns.

Keeng had been fascinated with electricity. He had studied a great deal on his own and had even met Mr. Westinghouse once in New York. Keeng was always looking for practical ways to incorporate electricity into his saloon. He had learned how to create small hand cranked generators that built up an electric charge, then when the charge was released with a button, the electricity would travel down the wire to a small bell that would ring.

Keeng had installed one of these in each room as a panic button. The girls were trained to use them if things got out of hand.

Eleanor had charged the panic bell but she had not yet pressed the button when she felt the first blow. Her nose felt numb, her eyes watered, and the whole front of her face erupted in bloody pain.

"I had enough bein' disrespected by you whores. I'm just gonna have to teach you a lesson" Nubb said as he delivered another blow, this one to her eye.

Eleanor was no stranger to beatings but Nubb hit her harder than she ever remembered being hit. Two punches to her face and she could only hear a low buzzing in her ears. Her eyes were hard to keep open and she felt dizzy. She reached for the table, her hand trying to find the button that would end her nightmare.

Two more blows to the face, Eleanor could no longer see. She felt the warm salty taste of the blood pouring in to her mouth from somewhere in the back of her throat. Another blow caught her in the cheek and the dull buzzing became A high pitched ring. Her fingers found the button as she felt her body go limp.

Down in the main hall near the bar Hamilton was slumped on the stool, with his back against the bar. He reached back without looking and found his freshly filled shot glass.

"Bah-zing, bah-zing, bah-zing" Hamilton found the noise annoying.

"I think I've had enough already." He announced as he turned around on the stool to face Keeng. "My ears are ringin'" he continued with a wry smile.

Keeng's eyes quickly scanned the row of bells neatly lined up behind the bar. The bell for room eleven was animated and telling him something was seriously wrong.

The look on Keeng's face could only be described as panic. He paid little attention to Hamilton and instead caught the worried glance of Regina.

"Room eleven" he said barely audible over the ringing noise. "Stay here Regina." He warned emphasizing with a finger pointed at her face. Keeng slid the dagger from its belt sheath and glanced at the blade. He quickly slammed it back into its sheath and threw the towel he had been holding down on the bar. The ring was slowly dying, emitting a sporadic and sickly sound.

"I've got it" king announced as he quickly made his way to the stairs. He hurried past Regina who stood wringing her hands. Her eyes followed Keeng's every move. Keeng reached the stairs, placed a hand on the rail and took a huge step clearing two stairs, then three steps at a time he blurred his way to the top.

Phelps hurried down the hallway, his eyes quickly scanning the numbers on each door. After what felt like an eternity, he found himself standing in front of the door to room eleven.

Keeng fumbled with his keyring, quickly jiggling the key for room twelve. The unrelenting lock mocked him, he quickly withdrew it and his shaking hands counted out the keys. Nine, ten, eleven. He plunged the key into the lock and gave it a twist. The click echoed. Without hesitation he flung the door open prepared for whatever he was going to find within.

Keeng stood in the doorway, staring at nothing. He felt lightheaded and uncertain of where he was. He suddenly felt younger and somewhere else.

"Yar such a pretty lad" the man said as he smiled at young Keeng. The man had streaks of gray interrupting the reddish orange of his beard. He smiled as he gently stroked Keeng's tousled hair. Keeng looked at the older man with admiration. Embarrassed by the compliment he quickly turned his gaze to the man's muscled body. Keeng ran his fingers along the man's chest, twirling spirals in the ruddy colored fur.

"Yar too pretty for yar own good boyo" the man said in a thick Irish accent. "We'll teach ya how to stick up for yarself. You'll need it lad, yer too deliciously gentle." He continued.

"I'm real good with a knife" Keeng reassured.

"Ya can't go about killin' everyone that calls ya sissy laddie, sometimes you joost need to bloody the man up and wreck his face a liht-uwl to make yar point." Eagan explained.

Jim Eagan came to the U.S. as a sailor from Ireland. He was already a young man of thirty-three and had heard that the United States had rumblings of a civil war. He knew that competent fighting men would soon be in short supply and so he made his way to New York. Eagan was a sailor, a fighting man and a pugilist. The aging Irishman had scores of barehanded boxing victories credited to his name and Keeng Phelps was madly in love with him.

"I can't fight like that Jim" Phelps said as he moved his hand towards Eagan's growing cock.

"Don't you worry laddie, we'll get you schooled up right. I'll teach you a thing or two boyo." Eagan said proudly as he folded his arms behind his head.

Keeng slowly stroked the throbbing shaft, carefully pulling back the foreskin and revealing the swollen purple head. He delivered a slow deliberate lick to the front of Eagan's member, paying close attention to that most magical of spots along the front tip. Keeng delivered another lick, then another. Eagan's leg began to twitch and he let out a satisfied moan. Looking up at the redhead, Keeng smiled and locked his lips on the front of the swollen post. He centered over that spot he called "the man clit" and tongued slow deliberate circles.

Eagan moaned, his leg moving unconsciously, sliding up and down along Keeng's naked body. Keeng began to stroke the back of the throbbing pole as he continued to lick circles on the man clit. Eagan began thrusting his hips, Keeng felt his strong hand on the side of his head. Eagan was writhing and panting. Keen increased the speed of the stroke and his tongue. He began to knead the front of the shaft with his lips, still tongueing the front. Eagan let out a loud groan, his body convulsing. Keeng felt the warm spurts landing on his face. He instinctively closed his eyes and let his love's liquid cover him.

Keeng placed a gentle kiss on Eagan's thigh. Proud of himself he looked up at Eagan. Still convulsing a bit Eagan gently stroked Keeng's face.

Yar a good boy." He sighed. "Now what do you want boyo?" Eagan said with a smile.

"What do you want boy" Eagans words echoed in Keeng's mind.

"I said what do you want boy?!" Eagan's Irish brogue now replaced by the gruff and uneducated utterance from Frank Nubb. "You just gonna stand der?" Nubb continued.

Keeng shook his head, returning to the moment. He gazed at the filthy ranch hand in front of him. Frank Nubb was heavy set and slovenly. His mouth always looked black from the tobacco he chewed. Brown spittle slowly trickled down his chin as he glared at Keeng with disdain.

Keeng's eyes scanned the room. Slumped on the bed was a bloody beaten Eleanor.

"what have you done?" Keeng growled through clenched teeth.

"I taught yer whore some manners. I don't take no guff off no floosie" Frank fired back.

"This is unacceptable." Keeng said trying to maintain composure. Keeng moved to the bed, gently rolled Ellie over. Her face was blackened and swollen. She had bled profusely and while both eyes were closed in her unconsciousness one eye looked like it would never open again.

"This is wholly unacceptable. You may just have killed her." Keeng said stroking the limp girl's hair.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave sir. The Sheriff will hear of this! Mark my words Frank Nubb!" Keeng warned gravely.

"Best you not say a word boy. Ain't no one give a damn about a whore but you open your pretty mouth and I'll close it for you." Threatened Nubb.

Phelps quickly stood up.

"I do not appreciate threats." He said without breaking eye contact.

"Guess I'll be teachin' a sissy boy a lesson too." Said the bastard calmly.

Nubb smiled, revealing his blackened teeth. An eye narrowed, the other looking at phelps' chin. Keeng quickly sidestepped the swing as it headed for where his face had been seconds before. In a fluid motiond Keeng delivered four quick jabs to Nubb's jaw. The dazed man staggered to correct himself and threw another lumbering punch. Again the punch failed to connect and again Keeng delivered several jabs to the ruffian. Frank struggled to keep his feet. Keeng, now fueled with rage begins to deliver punch after punch to Nubb's face. Frank falls to his knees begging Keeng to stop hitting him.

"Please mister, I had enough" Frank Pleads.

Nubb's pleas fall on deaf ears, as Phelps continues to deliver jabs to his face, stopping only after Nubb is lying on the floor covering his bloody swollen face with his bruised knuckles. Keeng grabs Frank by the shirt collar and drags him to the doorway. Nubb struggles to get up, his legs kicking and his dirty worn boots slipping on the hardwood floor. Keeng stabilizes the beaten thug, and grabs hold of the nape of his neck. With a determined stride, Keeng walks Frank down the staircase, through the main bar and stops at the doorway.

"Do not ever come back in here, if I see you here again, I will not be so merciful." Then with a less than gentle nudge, Keeng pushes Frank Nubb into the thoroughfare and out of the Promenade. Keeng, suddenly self conscious turns to meet the shocked gazes of the patrons. Leaning against the back bar Hamilton raises a shotglass in the direction of Keeng and quickly knocks back his unspoken toast. He then pours two more and carefully slides one towards the bartender side of the bar. Keeng straightens his waistcoat, retucks his shirt, and looks at Regina.

"You get Ellie to the doc, she is in a bad way" Regina snaps her fingers and two other girls join her flight up the stairs.

"I don't like when things come to that" Keeng confessed to the Hardcase, reaching for the poured shot.

"Sometimes they do, and you look like you had it handled. Done deal." Hamilton said as he sipped the whisky.

Still shaken and uncertain how to deal with the excess adrenaline, Keeng donned an apron, picked up a broom and began sweeping the main room in the Promenade. As Keeng swept his pile of dried mud, peanut shells and straw to the doorway two figures appeared. Frank and John Nubbs entered the saloon. Frank held a Double barrelled shotgun leaning against his hip. John had a Colt Army revolver tucked in his belt.

"This the sissy boy that whooped on you Frank?" John said pointing at Phelps.

"It is." Answered Frank.

As the bastard leveled the double barrelled shotgun at the thin man, he had the confidence of a schoolyard bully, absent the knowledge that this would be his last act on earth. Frank never heard the shot from Hamilton's LeMat revolver. One .42 caliber slug ripped its way through what once held the brains of half of the dumbest duo in town.

John Nubb, clearly taken by surprise reached for his revolver. Fearing the revolver would drop into the mud of the thoroughfare on the way to the Saloon, John had run the pistol through his belt and a suspender strap. The front site on the pistol caught, preventing a clean draw of the weapon. He was now helpless as he faced the remaining eight rounds pointed at his head. Hamilton smiled and reholstered his gun. John's eyes narrowed.

"I got you now you dumb son of a bitch" Nubbs thought as he watched Hamilton lean back against the bar. "You killed my brother! Now you die." He yelled across the room at Hamilton. Hamilton just smiled and tipped his hat. The last thing John Nubbs felt was the cool blade penetrating the side of his neck. Keeng. He had forgotten that Keeng was still standing there, and apparently, he had a knife.