"I'm ever so sorry," said the priest as he entered the room. "I'm looking for a Mr. Lochlan."
Alexander "Wolf" Lochlan squinted as the light from the sun-filled window in the hallway beamed into the room. He had to blink several times until his bloodshot eyes could focus on the stranger who had just entered his room. His mouth was as dry as the dust on his leather boots. His head was throbbing, the knock at his door felt like a stagecoach on a road of rocks in his head.
"C'mon in, goddamnit!" he shouted to stop the banging on his door and in his head.
He slowly propped himself up against the headboard A young priest stood there in the open doorway, one hand on the doorknob and staring at the huge muscled man in front of him sprawled across the small bed naked except for a corner of a sheet covering his crotch.
"Oh, I'm quite sorry. I had no idea you would still be in bed," the embarrassed priest said averting his eyes. "Perhaps, Mr. Lochlan is in the next room." He started to back out, pulling the door closed.
"I'm Lochlan." The large man growled as he scratched his broad hairy chest. He squinted with his sky-blue eyes at the young priest.
"You're Alexander Lochlan?" the priest asked, his face looking shocked.
"Yep, and folks call me 'Wolf'," the big man answered as he swung his massive legs over the edge of the bed, the sheet falling away from his groin.
"Uhm, I'm Father Anthony," the young priest coughed.
"Fuck," grunted Wolf, noticing he had a half-hard cock lolling against his thigh. He grabbed at the sheet to cover himself. "Sorry about that, father. You probably ain't got to worry about that kinda shit. Am I right?" Wolf ran a hand through the long hair on the top of his head and yawned loudly.
"Uhm," Father Anthony muttered. "I think you're drunk, sir. The smell of alcohol is raging like a demon inside this room. I think I've made a mistake, quite a mistake." The young priest wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of alcohol and musk. The priest wrung his hands nervously; sweat beaded on his forehead. "This isn't going to work. This is bad."
"Sorry, father, but you're wrong. I was drunk. And later on, I'll most likely be drunk again. I don't think I'm drunk right now," Wolf said, holding out a finger and trying to focus on it. "Well, not too drunk anyways." He rubbed his forehead as the memory of last night's whiskey rampage grabbed him. How many shots had he done with that little cowboy? Too many that was for damn sure, he figured as he remembered fucking the little dude against the wall of the livery stable. He turned to the priest, squinting. "So, father, not to be rude, but what the fuck do you want?"
"I might have found the right man, but obviously this is a huge mistake. This will not work out."
"Father, who in the hell sent you here?"
"The proprietor of this establishment, Mr. Fields, suggested that you were the man for a certain job."
"Goddamn Gus," Wolf cussed under his breath. "Remind me to break Gus in half later," he said the priest.
"I shall not do any such thing," said the priest. "But I shall have a word with him for sending me to a drunkard," he replied severely.
"A drunkard?" Wolf laughed.
"Any man in your condition at this time of the day is obviously a drunkard."
"A man in my condition at this time of the day obviously had a good fucking time," Wolf replied with wide grin, causing him to grab his head in pain. He chuckled to himself.
"I will definitely have a word with Mr. Fields. Pardon me, sir," the priest said, backing out of the room.
"Tell Gus to keep religion off the breakfast menu...or dinner menu...what-the-fuck-ever," Wolf snapped back at the priest as the door closed tight leaving him in the darkened room again.
"Muthafucking priest," Wolf groaned as he lay back on the bed thinking about the young cowboy from last night. He remembered the young guy was on his first cattle drive and that he had never taken a sip of whiskey. Wolf thought about how naive to the dusty world of the West the kid was, how the young cowboy was curious and eager to please him -- the bigger magnificent-bodied older cowboy. The little dude had been a good companion after a first shot of whiskey, a good diversion after Wolf's six long weeks on the trail.
The cowboy called himself Ned as he introduced himself to Wolf at the bar. Wolf was instantly taken by the slender yet muscular build and tousled blond hair. Wolf had asked the young man to join him and his bottle of whiskey at a table. Wolf mentioned Sally the saloon madam to the boy and pointed her out as she lounged against the stair rails waiting on a customer. Wolf winked and grinned as Sally pulled down her bodice and flashed her large breast at him. Wolf took note that the young man looked quickly at Sally and then turned back to keep talking to him without even an ogle at Sally's voluminous breast. Wolf knew the young cowboy was interested in him, but who wouldn't be? His dark deep olive skin and jet black hair from his mixed-race mother and his big hairy muscular body with its distinct v-shape from his Scottish army father. But his true advantage was his eyes. His vivid blue eyes always betrayed his every attempt to blend into a crowd; they mesmerized everyone and got him plenty of attention.
He thought about his walking out of the saloon with the young cowboy and walking down the alley beside the livery stable. The young cowboy tripped and fell into him knocking the bigger man against the side of the stables. Ned had fallen to his knees. Wolf reached down to help the cowboy up.
"I'm fine. I can do it myself," Ned said, grabbing at the bigger man's thigh to steady himself. The young cowboy's hand slid firmly across the jeans toward Wolf's groin, only stopping when his palm hit the bulbous tip of Wolf's cock.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Boy, that's my cock."
"That big bump in your jeans is your cock?" Ned asked naively, pushing his hat backwards and looking up at Wolf with brown eyes which caught the full blue-white sparkling light of the full moon.
"Well, the head of it," replied Wolf.
