Longarm glanced up at his second-story hotel room window. It was dark and the night was going to be cold. “Maybe you could come up and we could share the rest of this bottle.”
She brightened. “My name is Irma. What’s yours?”
“Custis.”
“Nice name. Nice clothes. Nice body.”
“Come on, Irma,” he said, slipping his arm around the girl’s slender waist. “Let’s go to bed.”
She pulled back, but not hard. “But what about the drinking and talking?”
“We can do that too, later.”
Irma giggled. She took his bottle and had another pull, and then she wiped her lip again with his ruined handkerchief. “All right,” she said, “first we screw, then we get acquainted, all right?”
“That’ll be fine, Irma.”
Longarm found that he wasn’t as tired as he had thought. The minute Irma undressed and slipped into bed, he was on her like an animal. She had nice, lush breasts, and he licked them until the nipples stood up like dark little peaks. Very soon she took his stiff rod and guided it into her moist honeypot, and then wrapped her powerful thighs around his hips.
“Nice, real nice,” she moaned as Longarm began to thrust into her hot wetness.
Longarm didn’t hurry himself. He hadn’t had a woman in several weeks, and Irma was skilled enough to know how to stretch a man to the breaking point, then ease back and leave his body tingling. Longarm was able to handle that about three times before fire flowed through his big rod and into Irma’s body, causing her to buck and squeal when her passion exploded like a Chinese rocket.
“We were really good together, Custis,” she panted when he rolled off her and reached for the whiskey. “You’ve been with a lot of women, haven’t you?”
“I guess.”
“What do you do?”
He decided to tell her the truth. “I’m a United States marshal.”
Irma sat bolt upright. “No!”
“It’s the truth,” he said. “I could climb out of this bed and show you my badge.”
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “I never gave to no lawman before.”
Longarm offered her the bottle. “Have a drink, honey. The world is just full of surprises, and worse things could happen to a girl like you.”
Irma took the bottle and drank, but her eyes never left Longarm’s face, and when she had her fill of the whiskey, she said, “Honest to Pete? You’re a federal lawman?”
“That’s right.”
“But how come you’re dressed up so fancy?”
“It’s a long, long story, Irma, and one that I really can’t tell.”
“Are you staying in Cheyenne for a while? I wouldn’t mind getting a lot more of you, Marshal.”
He laughed. “No, I’m afraid that I’m boarding the westbound train first thing tomorrow morning.”
Her face dropped. “I’m sorry to hear that. Big J might try to beat me up again. I don’t suppose you’d like to buy me a ticket west? We could travel together and we could screw day and night. I’d make it worth your while, I swear that I would!”
“I believe you,” Longarm said, “but I just can’t do that. I’m traveling on the taxpayers’ tab. They wouldn’t like it one bit if I paid your way.”
“Screw ‘em.”
“You can try it. I can’t.”
“Well, can you at least buy me a ticket over to Laramie? If Big J catches me tomorrow, I’d get a hell of a beating.”
“How much is a ticket to Laramie?”
“Six dollars.”
“Sure,” Longarm said. “I’ll give you six dollars.”
“Thanks!”
“Let’s not talk anymore,” he said, setting the bottle down on his bedside table and taking Irma into his arms.
“Maybe we can screw a little on the way over the Laramies,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
Longarm thought of the English women, and could well imagine how unfavorably they would view a prostitute like Irma.
“I just don’t think that would work,” he said.
“You mean it wouldn’t look right to some people on that train that you want to impress.”
Longarm was struck by her perceptiveness, and even a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” he confessed, “but then, I guess I’ve never given much thought to how other people judge me, so why start now.”
“Good!” Irma looked happy again. “Can you find us a place to do it?”
“It depends on how big a private traveling compartment they give me this time,” he told her. “The one I had up from Denver wasn’t big enough for a pair of cats to couple.”
“I hope you get a bigger one this time,” she said, reaching for his manhood. “I’ll bet that we can do it about a dozen times before we get over those tall mountains.”
Longarm knew that was ridiculous, but there was no reason not to at least try.
Chapter 4
The westbound Union Pacific left precisely at eight-ten in the morning, and fortunately for Longarm, it was forty minutes late pulling into Cheyenne. He was really dragging when he hauled his luggage as well as Irma’s up to the train and shoved his ticket at the conductor, who was standing on the station platform.
“First class, Marshal?” the conductor asked, eyebrows raised in doubt.
“That’s right!” Longarm said, annoyed by the question. “Pete, is there something wrong with my ticket?”
The conductor studied it closely. “No, it’s a firstclass ticket all right. I just didn’t think that the government was in the habit of providing marshals with such luxury. What happened, Longarm, did you get a big promotion or save our president’s life?”
“No on both counts,” Longarm said. “Which compartment have I been assigned?”
The conductor looked at his clipboard. “You’re in …” He didn’t finish, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a grin. “I’m afraid I spoke too soon about that firstclass ticket.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Longarm asked, suddenly expecting the worst.
“It means you have been assigned the sweatbox.”
“The what?”
“It’s next to the furnace,” the conductor explained. “Old ladies sometimes enjoy it, but the heat radiates right through the wall and it becomes damned hot.”
Longarm bit back an oath. “I want something else.”
“I’m sorry, Marshal. All the other firstclass compartments have been booked up for weeks. Number three is always the last to go because it gets so danged hot inside.”
Longarm was incensed. “Well, why don’t they just insulate the wall between number three and the furnace?”
“If they tried to do it with wood, it most likely would catch fire. If they do it with metal, which they have, the metal just conducts the heat like a frying pan on a stove.”
“Surely it must have a window I can open to at least keep the temperature bearable.”
“Nope. You see, number three was originally a storage room. But they made it into a sleeping compartment.
Pete frowned. “I’m sure that your department must have known about this compartment and took it because of the discount.”
“Discount?” Longarm’s jaw dropped.
“Why, sure! We had so many complaints over number three that they dropped the firstclass fare to just ten dollars over the price of a second-class ticket.”
“I’ll kill Billy,” Longarm vowed passionately.
“Marshal, before you get too upset, remember that you do get to eat yourmeals in the Hotel Express dining car, and that does cost an extra four dollars a day.”
The conductor reached for another passenger’s ticket. “Really, Marshal, it’s hot in number three, but you can hang out in the parlor car and you’ll still eat like a king.”
Only slightly mollified, Longarm went over to Irma and picked up her bags. She said, “You don’t look very happy. Is there a problem?”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” he growled. “Let’s get you on board and get you a seat in second class, and then you can come down and join me in number three.”