She told him not to talk dirty, and added, "Does this one-horse shay look like a whorehouse, you stuck-up thing?"
So seeing she'd put it that way, he just peeled out of his own duds as she finished shucking her own, and laying her crossways on the leather seat with his own boots braced against a wheel and carriage shaft, stuck it to her as she thrust up to meet him, sobbing, "Oh, Lordy, just the way I like it! Just the way I needed it after washing off so many sick men's privates back there and not getting any for so many days and nights!"
He was glad he'd put his boots back on with just such purchase in mind. For there was much to be said for buggy riding when a man once got the hang of it, and as she gave it back to him with all the skill of a whore feeling really friendly, he surmised she'd done it in this very shay before.
But he never asked. It was her idea to note he acted as if he hadn't been in that Mexican gal after all. She was biting down hard with her innards as she husked, "You screw like a cowhand who's been out on the trail for months with nobody but his hand to put it in. Do you mind if I jerk my clit off whilst you prong me, honey? You do that so much better than your average horny cowhand, and I want to come a couple of times while I have your undivided attention!"
He grunted, "They asked the Prophet Mohammed about jerking off one time. He allowed he didn't see how it could be all that sinful, since nine out of ten folks did it and that tenth one was a liar."
So she laughed like a mean little kid, and slid her hand down between their bare bellies to strum her old banjo while Longarm shoved his own more sensitive parts as far up inside her as he could. So a great time was had by all, and when he asked Ruby how come she'd started crying at the end, she said it was because he'd kissed her on the mouth as she was coming. He started to say he never screwed anyone he found too disgusting to kiss. But upon reflection he felt that might sound sort of rude. So he just kissed her some more and confided he'd been coming too.
That inspired her to get on top, facing the other way so she could brace her high-buttoned heels on the floorboard and really bounce for him with her hands braced on her own knees while Longarm steadied her with a friendly grip on each bare hip. She allowed there was no need for her to strum herself anymore, now that he'd made her feel so womanly inside. He knew she was working harder to pleasure a pal when she peered back over her bare shoulder and confided, "As a rule I charge double to take it up my back door. But I'm not asking you for anything but... well, the nice way you treat a girl, if you want to shoot in my ass this time."
He'd been admiring the view of his love-slicked shaft going in and out of her regular entrance, which had light blond instead of mock red hair by the way. So he thrust up to meet a downstroke as he told her, "I'm doing fine, unless you really like it in your corn hole, honey."
She shook her mock red head and replied, "It doesn't feel good or bad back there, once you get it all the way in. I just knew some men like to do that to a gal and, well, I like you, Custis!"
He said he liked her too just the way she was. So she giggled and commenced to really slide on up and down his old organ-grinder as he lay back and enjoyed her efforts. Poor old Lenore Colbert on that steamer coming north the other night had had ash-blond hair as well as a pussy she'd never really gotten to use like this. He found himself picturing that half-sated erection sliding in and out of that Boston virgin, and it felt pretty convincing with another gal's back to him as he rose to the occasion in her pussy with the light blond hair. But then Ruby shattered the illusion by declaring, "Oh, yes, I can tell you really like me and it makes me feel so grand to please you this way!"
Then she popped off, turned around, and swayed the shay under them alarmingly, before she dropped to her knees on the floorboards and kissed the turgid head of his aroused erection, cooing, "I want you to come where you weren't too proud to stick your tongue, darling!"
So he forgave her for not looking at all like the late Lenore as she proceeded to bob her mock red head up and down, taking him to the roots in a French sword swallow till he gasped "Jeeezusss!" and shot a wad he hadn't known he'd been saving somewhere on the far side of her tonsils.
He had to beg for mercy as she kept on swallowing, the rings of her deep throat rippling wetly up and down his shaft as she sucked every drop out of him.
So he was mighty tempted when she finally raised her head from his lap with a roguish grin, purring, "That was lovely. Would you like to take a nap with your head in Mamma's lap before we drive on? It's hot as hell out there right now, and you did say you hadn't had any sleep lately, didn't you?"
He reached for his boots, to take them off so he could put his jeans back on, saying, "Lord love you, Miss Ruby, I was already tired, and now I feel as if I could sleep for a month without getting up once to piss. But we'd best drive on anyways."
She sat straighter, stark naked above her garters, proud breasts heaving with emotion as she demanded, "Why? Don't you trust me not to betray you to the Philistines in your sleep?"
The thought had in fact occurred to him. He'd run into latter-day Delilahs before, and barely come out better than that other lawman, Samson, in the Good Book. But he just said he had to make sure his fellow deputy and their prisoner were all right before he lay his own head down for forty winks.
"You men are all alike!" she suddenly blazed. "I just took it in my mouth for you and you still think I'm a dirty bitch out to lift your wallet!"
When he said he thought no such thing, she demanded he prove it by laying his head right down in her lap or getting his ass right out of her private shay. So in the end, Longarm wound up walking the last couple of furlongs to that Coast Guard station to the north.
CHAPTER 10
He ran out of shade as the tree-lined wagon trace passed by the shell-paved cutoff leading across salt marsh and dune to the Coast Guard station they'd built on a finger of somewhat higher ground that pointed accusingly out to sea. As he approached the cluster of whitewashed frame buildings wrapped around a small parade ground, with a listless Revenue Service flag hanging high on its whitewashed staff, Longarm saw the place was smaller than he'd been expecting. It was about the size of a one-troop army outpost in Apacheria. There was nothing tied up to the one pier running out to deeper water in the coastal lagoon. So he wasn't surprised to see how quiet things were as he strode on to the gate in the four-strand bobwire perimeter. Aside from it being siesta time, a lot of the more important officers and men had to be out to sea aboard their steam cutter in the wake of that storm.
The U.S. Coast Guard was a branch of the Treasury Department instead of the Navy. But the sentry who challenged him at the gate wore a regular sailor suit of summer white with those leggings all sailors wore, for some reason, when they were ashore with rifles and cartridge belts. As Longarm showed the kid his badge and identification, he asked if those blamed leggings didn't itch in all this heat. The Coast Guardsman only sighed, and said he'd been told to expect someone from the Justice Department, adding Longarm would find the officer of the day at the headquarters building near the pier. Longarm didn't ask why they expected him to go there first.
It was considered polite as well as sensible to check in with the local law before you made any arrests in a strange town.
It felt like a day's forced march under that ferocious afternoon sun before he made it at last to the shady veranda running the full length of the freshly painted headquarters building. A junior grade lieutenant, equal to a first lieutenant in the army, came out of a doorway down the veranda in dress whites to tell Longarm they'd been starting to worry about him. As they shook hands, he introduced himself as a Lieutenant Junior Grade Devereaux, and said his boss, Lieutenant Flynn, was out chasing boys--or so it seemed to Longarm until he realized the young officer meant buoys, those floating markers they put out across the lagoon to show steamer pilots where to go.