Wanderer of the West

Once Raf was gone, thankfully called away on a clearly more important matter, Rita breathed a sigh of relief, although the sensation of his hand clutching her jaw had stuck with her, and she rubbed tenderly around her mouth to rid herself of it. It was likely he would be back to degrade her some more later, but she was determined not to break, not to let him own her mind as well as her body. She was determined to get out of this debt, out of this life one way. She really hoped the stranger from the night before might return even though he said he would only be staying in town one night. The girl still had hope in her heart that there was a way out of this, out of her current, miserable situation. Shaking off her near brush with an unpleasantry with Raf, she brushed herself off and climbed out of bed, fixing herself up as he had suggested, more for herself than to look good for any potential customer. Going to the bureau she grabbed a brush and let down her hair, brushing it with care, it was a bit out of shape from guys pulling on it so much. Once it was smooth and free of knots she did it back up again in the previous style, checking herself in the mirror as well, applying a fresh coat of lipstick. She really didn't need make-up but it helped attract customers.

Satisfied within a matter of minutes, and hoping not to cross Raf's path again for a while, Rita left her bedroom and peered over the upstairs banister before sauntering downstairs, composed and calm. A little eager to earn some money, although no one was likely to tip as well as her last 'customer', she lingered around the bar just in case anyone came in looking for a good time.

"What's this, Rafinha? There's barely anything here!" The words originated from the other end of the bar, where the Errand Boy and Raf were sitting, discussing business with a drink. The Errand Boy appeared to be in the twilight of his teenage years, a couple of youthful spots dotted around the chin area. It was a little unusual for someone of his age to be getting involved in things like this, but Raf's gang had a tendency to rope everyone from all walks of life in to their shady operations. "You seriously think I can take this back to Kenu and he'll be happy with it? He'll think either you're fleecing him, or I'm pocketing some change half-way through the trip."

"It's been a slow week... you think I'm happy with it?"

"Well you're the one that's sitting here all relaxed. I wouldn't be if I were you, Raf. You know he's not got much patience, and if he thinks you're not doing a good job here he'll find someone else who can." The young boy shook his head. "You got to tell your girls to start improving..."

After that, the conversation became hushed once more as the Errand Boy appeared to relax, lowering his voice to a normal level. The rest of the morning wasn't busy, although that was to be expected. Everyone in town had jobs to do, and getting it done as early as they could meant the rest of the evening could be spent enjoying themselves. For Rita, there were a few customers that came within her vicinity, but none of them stayed longer than a single drink. Raf was keeping an eye on her, letting the woman know he was watching. The lack of custom wasn't doing her cause any favours at all.

"Rita." Called Raf. "Give this letter to the Sheriff. Should be at the jail just now." The small message passed to her hands, giving her a short break from saloon girl duties. The Sheriff of the town was a regular customer of Rita's -- Montand, a man whose ancestors were some of the original French settlers from a few centuries before (albeit his family's European accent had been replaced by the typical American south-western sound). Always seen with a thick shadow of stubble and a pair of dark eyes that always seemed to be accompanied by a permanent frown; he was also one of the customers that treated Rita well.
He sat in his chair behind his desk, eyes closed, feet up, performing a balancing act on the chair's two hind legs. It'd been a long night for him.

Glad to be given a small reprieve from her duties at the saloon, Rita gladly took the letter from Raf and simply nodded, grabbing her coat and throwing it on over her corset-style outfit to make herself somewhat decent whilst she went into town on this errant, seeing no reason to go and change when she would just have to take the trouble of changing again when she returned. She was simply delivering a letter after all. She even cracked a smile as she left the bar and headed over towards the the town jail where the sheriff was supposed to be. Montand was a customer of hers but he always treated her nicely, maybe even as nice as Frankie had although being a lawman didn't afford him much time to be hanging around the saloon. She had even tried to convince him that the debt her father had accumulated was no concern of hers but the law clearly was not on her side in this situation.

Knocking once or twice on the wood-framed door of the small jailhouse, the young woman entered and found the sheiriff unexpectedly alseep, at least it appeared that he was. Grinning a little she walked over to his desk, her boots thudding against the hard planks of wood that served as a floor for the place, approaching him quietly and reaching over to lightly pat him upon the shoulder, careful not to rouse him too much but enough to get his attention. "Sheriff, sir, I have a letter for you." She said softly, hoping he might be awake and have time for a few words besides this errand, she would want to linger as much as she could, anywhere was better than that saloon and Raf. If not she could always just leave the letter on the desk and go, although that was not what she hoped to do. Maybe she could even persuade him to spend a few dollars on her services, he was a loyal customer after all and she wouldn't mind pleasing him if it meant clearing away even a small fraction of her debt.

The Sheriff made some noises as he came back to the world, opening his eyes to the sight of the lovely saloon girl Rita. "Hmm? Oh, Rita. It's always nice to wake up with you smilin' back at me." Of course, it didn't happen very often. Unlike Frankie, he wasn't the kind that actually went to bed with Rita. No. Sex, then home. Or work, depending on when he managed to slip her in to his busy shift pattern. Busy, who was he kidding? The town and surrounding area had been dullsville for the last few weeks.

He was well aware of her debt, and had wished he could help her but it was impossible for him. Not to mention extremely dangerous. The gang were more powerful than most people realised, and if Montand decided to try to free her -- he'd be running in to all sorts of problems. And he'd be all alone.
"A letter, eh?" He removed his feet from the surface and sat up straight, looking over it's contents and muttered something to himself before placing it in his drawer under the desk. "What's wrong with his own legs?" He gave a faint smile before parting his legs and patting the space he had just created. "Not want to take off your jacket? I ain't got anything to be doin' for the next little while... and I know there's one gal I could be spendin' it with."

In his own way she knew Montand was being nice, even if it was just to get some pleasure from her. It sure beat the hell out of the way Raf and most guys who visited the saloon treated her. But it was usually just business with the Sheriff. She took care of him, he paid her, they were friends, but that was all. It was true, he never went to bed, literally with her. In fact half the time they did things at the jailhouse unless he was visiting the saloon. Cracking another smile as he finished examining the letter and then noticing him clearing his lap for her use as a seat, Rita couldn't help but grin and nod at his next couple of remarks. The town didn't see too much crime aside from Raf's shady deals at the saloon, so he was probably right about having nothing to do. So she figured it couldn't hurt to stick around, at least for a little while.

"I suppose I could stay for a while longer, I don't know when Raf expects me back." She said in reply, slipping off her coat and hanging it near the door on the coat rack near the Sheriff's own duster. Turning back to him she stepped around the desk and seated herself down on Montand's lap, shifting and getting comfortable, her arms instinctly wrapping around the man's neck, both to keep herself from falling, and partly out of habit. Looking upon his scruffy expression and those dark eyes of his she smoothed a hand over a rough patch of stubble. "You really should think about a shave, Sheriff." Rita teased softly, content at the moment.

"Oh, I do shave, Rita... just think my blades have got blunt, that's all." Montand enjoyed the closeness, the way she held him, she way she smelled, her smile, those lovely eyes matching his own, just listening to her voice -- the way she flirted as if she were born to do it. Although, that last one could be considered a little offensive -- she didn't choose to be in this line of work. It wasn't her fault. That's why he never said it to her. Everything else, though. He'd mentioned it to her a couple of times.

His hand stroked her stockings, the fabric turning her legs a shade darker than her skin. "I think the more important thing we got to think about is installin' a lock on that front door there." The Sheriff smirked, placing his lips gently against the soft skin of her face. Every so often, he was twisting and turning her around so that she sat completely facing him -- using his hand to lift her legs to they sat either side of him -- their crotches almost joining through clothes. "Either that, or we got to start meetin' like this somewhere else." By now, his hands held her waist that was so beautifully shaped by the corset. "Let's make this quick, shall we? I know Raf don't like you bein' out of the bar for long." Not that Montand cared about that.

Rita couldn't help but laugh at his next few remarks, shifting with ease as he moved her on his lap to face towards him directly, changing her into more of a straddling position, her arms still hanging loosely around his neck. Thankfully his chair could support the weight of both of them, seeing as Montand leaned back in it so much balancing on two legs but never managed to fall. Her eyes met with his now and then as they faced each other, her arms withdrawing now from his neck, her hands moving to rest against his strong chest. She couldn't help but be a little aroused from their aligned, nearly touching hips. He was likely in the mood and she was getting there, too. He drove her further as his hands wandered to her slender waist held by her corset, lips brushing against her smooth cheek. The way he touched her, so gentle yet so deliberate, only attracted her to him more. The thought of someone walking in on them as well as he mentioned the lack of a locked door only served to fuel her lust.


"You know I don't mind staying around, Sheriff, it isn't like I charge by the hour." The young woman teased, leaning close, her hands tracing against his chest as she nipped and kissed playfully at his neck and jaw, not going right in for a kiss on the lips. Despite the fact he wanted to make it quick she wanted to savor this.

They'd done this a few dozen times before, whether it was in this very office or in Rita's upstairs bedroom at the saloon. And each time, they started like this. Exchanges of touches and kisses, playing with one another's body as if it were a present. To him, he enjoyed her company -- and also their friendship. An exchange of flirting banter, all playful yet meaningless. At the end of the day, they knew that he was a Sheriff and she was just a saloon girl.
Although he always got the impression that she never was in any rush to return to the saloon, although it was understandable because Raf wasn't the kind of person that passed himself off as the friendly sort. The lowest kind of person, in fact. It was a known fact that Rafinha and Montand did not get along, although they put on brave faces. Montand knew that taking on Raf would result in his gang getting involved, and Raf knew attacking Montand would have the entire town up against him. The Sheriff was a popular man in these parts.

He was becoming hard; he was wanting her. He wanted inside of her. With one hand, he gingerly unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his member -- displaying his erection. "Come on..." The Sheriff whispered, motioning for her to reveal her own area for him.

Rita gasped a bit as the Sheriff presented his hard on, not that it was any big surprise, it just caught her a little off guard is all. She nodded and was forced to move off his lap for a quick moment to undo her corset, pushing it down off her body carefully revealing her naked, slender form to him. Hastily climbing back onto Montand's lap she aligned their hips once more feeling him probing at her tight entrance with his eager hard on. Moaning lightly as he attempted to penetrate her. Lowering herself gingerly onto him he pushed against her moist pussy lips before gaining entry, provoking a bit more intense moan to pass from her lips. Her heart was beating a bit rapidly and her busty chest heaved from the passionate labor.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as her chest pressed against his chest, leaning close her lips found his as well, kissing him deeply, holding it for what felt like forever before pulling away for a quick breath before pressing her lips madly to his, tilting her head to deepen it further, her tongue slipping past his lips and into the man's mouth, wrestling it playfully against his. Her skin felt warm from head to toe as they indulged in the intimate yet lust-filled act of lovemaking, her hips starting to move up and down as she strenuously rode his lap right there in his office, feeling him pushing in deeper each time her hips slammed down on his.

It didn't matter if anybody walked in to the office right now. It didn't matter if the prisoner in the jail next door was breaking the lock to the door and making his escape. This was heaven, the taste of her lips like ambrosia, the way she moved herself on him -- ultimate pleasure. He was lost in a cloud of passion, everything around him a blur, the only focus point was this queen of lust, up and down, back and forth. When ever she kissed him, he repaid the favour -- meeting her tongue with his. Two bodies -- joining together. His hands pinching parts of female skin, whether it was her ass of her waist, as if preventing her from moving too far away.

The moans of pleasure. The Sheriff didn't want it to stop. He wanted to sit here forever, inside of her, locking lips, whispering sweet sounds of love and passion. There was a noise outside, a potential interruption, but Montand ignored it. No one was going to destroy this moment. No one. There was no follow-up to the noise, and the Sheriff returned to the gorgeous woman on his lap, taking in every inch of him. The end was in sight.

She could feel her limit approaching swiftly as she rode his lap with intimate effort. Her nails dug lightly into the man's bare chest as her lips locked roughly with his, their tongues dancing passionately as they kissed. His hard on pushing into her again and again was driving her wild. Rita really didn't want to stop either, but there would have to be an end to it sometime, and she felt her climax creeping up rapidly on her. Breaking off the kiss, she panted for air, and as her hips crashed down onto his lap she bit her lip and her pussy erupted with warm juices around his erection. Slowing her hips to an eventual stop, she leaned in to kiss him softly now, her lips lingering for only a moment before she let her head fall and rest against his chest.

"Mmm..." The saloon girl sighed contently, resting her head in the crook of his neck now. Her hands rubbing lightly at his chest. "That was fabulous.." She cooed lifting her gaze to meet his, rubbing his scruffy face lovingly and leaning in to kiss his cheek, shifting a little on his lap, content, comfortable, and satisfied.

Montand sat there with her for a good five or ten minutes, refusing to let her get up or climb away from his lap. His eyes closed, resting back and just enjoying her touch. The climax wasn't perfectly synchronised, yet they both managed to get there in the end. He figured it wasn't too often that Rita was allowed that privilege -- that there were plenty of customers that fucked her and buggered of before she could even start to enjoy it.
Eventually, he got up and cleaned himself, fixing his clothes to the near-perfect state they were in before she had arrived. The Sheriff looked at himself in the mirror for a few moments before returning to the main desk area. He placed a kiss on her forehead, showing that even with her boots, he still stood taller by quite a few inches. A single finger lifted her chin upwards, and he replied with a smile. The Sheriff's lips began to move, when a very familiar voice spoke from the jail room behind the closed door. Rita was about to discover what had became of her customer from the night before.

The Cowboy stood against the bars, his face peeking through one of the gaps, his hands resting against the metal above his head. "Hey Sheriff... gonna keep it down in there?"

Rita smiled as Montand lifted her chin after letting her off his lap and fixing himself back up. She had dressed as well in her corset, stockings, and boots, composing herself as well. It was true that usual customers as the saloon didn't allow her release and only satisfied themselves with her. But with the sheriff they both always got to release even if it wasn't at the same time. But as he leaned in it seemed to kiss her on the lips she heard a voice from the jail room, audible and it was familiar, she recognized it almost immediately. The stranger, the customer from the night before, here in jail! She gasped softly and lowered her gaze again, unsure what to make of this development.

He didn't want him to think bad of her, it was her job after all to do what she had done, whether it be here or at the saloon. But her feelings for this stranger were really starting to make her feel guilty.

Montand frowned, hearing the prisoner shouting through from the other room about the noise they had been making during intercourse. Pulling away from Rita, the Sheriff opened the door next to his desk and marched over to the cell where sure enough -- Frankie stood looking at the man that had put him in here a few hours before. "Did you say something, pardner?" The Sheriff asked, folding his arms. "Because I'm sure I heard someone talking in here. Someone that's gonna be in this cell for a long time?" He watched as the Cowboy shook his head and grinned, walking away from the bars and returning to sit back down on the uncomfortable bed in the corner of the small room he occupied.

"Alright. Alright. If that's how you do your duties as Sheriff -- I'm not gonna complain." Frankie sighed, unaware that it had been the saloon girl from the night before that was in the next room. Not like he would blame her, anyway. He knew what her job was, he knew what she had to do to get her freedom.

As Montand disappeared into the other room where the prisoners were held, hearing them talk, Rita was debating what to do. She wanted to see the stranger again, although at the moment she was really wondering why he was even in jail. But she was also worried what he might think of her if he knew she was the one who had been making love with the Sheriff. He had heard them, of course, and Frankie would know it was her. Oh what to do! Deciding she simply had to see him again, speak to him, she brushed herself off and made herself look presentable before entering the back room, finding the sheriff standing outside one of the cells. The only one being occupied, in fact. Walking over and turning to look through the bars, her eyes widened a bit and she blushed to find it was indeed him. The man from the night before.

"Well, if I did see you again this was the last place I thought it would be." She remarked, an attempt at humor, trying to be warm and friendly despite the awkward circumstances under which they were meeting again. In jail after she had just slept with the Sheriff, with him having to listen to it.

Frankie heard the boots before she even came close to him, but by that point he was staring at a spot on the floor, never raising his eyes once. Even when she approached the cell, it was only when she began to speak, he knew it was her. Without the door and walls muffling her words, they were as clear as they were last night. Still laced with a flirting tongue like before. "I didn't know you did call-outs." He replied, keeping the conversation light-hearted and showing no signs of being bitter that he had to listen to what she did for a living. Frankie had the chance to be in the same shoes as the Sheriff, but he had turned her down -- only asking for some comfort and a massage. After listening to the enjoyment from them both, maybe he was starting to regret it.

It wasn't the first time he had ever been in a cell. In fact, the small room with bars on one side was becoming a sort of second-home to him, albeit in a different jail each time. "Does the Sheriff let you entertain the prisoners as well?" He said, finally looking up at the Sheriff, who shook his head, keeping his arms locked in front.

She felt a bit ashamed, even if unintentional his words did sting a little. But Rita was not too offended, in a way she did deserve it, sleeping with anyone she felt close to or had a connection with, and worst of all for money, no matter how 'noble' or 'worthy' the cause. Her best excuse was that she was doing what she needed to do. "I'm sorry you had to listen to that..Montand is a good friend of mine. I suppose I just couldn't help myself." The saloon girl remarked lowering her gaze, but only for a moment, mustering a smile. "You left without a word the other night, and although I enjoyed our time together, I didn't know what to make of your disappearance." She murmured, confessing how she felt. After a moment of letting her attention linger on Frankie, her eyes shifted to the cross-armed sheriff, stepping over to him.

"Why is this man being held anyways? What wrong has he committed?" She asked, partly out of curiosity, and partly because he did not seem the type to cause trouble. And if he was being held under unjust cause, she would do whatever she could to try and free him.

Frankie listened to what she said, how she explained that Montand -- the Sheriff -- was a good friend, and that she couldn't help herself. Not exactly painting herself in a good light in his eyes, but after so long being a whore for a saloon -- it was understandable that her mentality might have changed slightly. To her, he figured that sleeping with a couple of guys a day was now normal behaviour. Poor woman. Referring to him leaving early last night, he shrugged. "I got a habit of doin' that."

"Caught him breaking in to the ammunition storage a few hours ago... just before sunrise. Trying to steal some bullets for his revolver." Montand unfolded his arms and pointed to the unique seven-chamber revolver that Frankie had on him at the saloon. It sat at the other side of the jail room, on top of a table, teasing and taunting the Cowboy. In his sights, but no way of reaching it. Even if he had it on him, he had no bullets to fire from it.
The Sheriff had watched their quick conversation, but wasn't going to let him out just because he'd spent the night with Rita. Although he didn't like to say it, but many guys spent the night with Rita. And most of them were a bad bunch.

Rita sighed listening to the Sheriff's explanation for Frankie's imprisonment, it seemed a bit ridiculous to throw a man in jail over a few bullets. But in this town there was little you could do that wasn't seen as bad in the eyes of the law. Resting her hands on her hips, she glanced over at the man in the cell then back to Montand, she looked at the sheriff with pleading eyes. "Surely something can be done. A crime as small as this certainly does not warrant a jail term, does it?" As she spoke the saloon girl moved a hand to the man's shoulder, turning him to look at her now.

"Is there any way I might convince you to free this man?" She asked, although since they had just had an intimate tryst she hoped now simply to appeal to his good nature and better judgment. Maybe even as a personal favor for her services. Instead of money towards her debt, he could free Frankie.

It was unusual that she was taking such an interest in the prisoner. She thought he was over-reacting to the Cowboy's attempts as stealing weapon ammunition, but what would he have done if he just let him get away with it? Use those bullets to start a fight in the town? The prisoner had mentioned that he was going to be gone as soon as he had taken the stuff, and had no intention of sticking around. But Montand just didn't believe him.
Taking Rita in to the next room -- the one they had made love in -- he closed the door and sat on the edge of his desk. "Why you want him free, Rita? You're askin' a lot here. You know I don't let anyone walk out of here... doesn't matter if he's killed a man or stolen a loaf of bread." He was putting up a tough defensive wall just now, but it was Rita he was talking to. He wanted to know why she wanted him free. There had to be some extremely good reason. Although knowing her... there probably was.

Going with Montand back to the front room as he led her there, Rita turned to him as he sat on the edge of the desk and listened to what he had to say. She knew it was asking a lot, even of him, a good friend, and that he most likely couldn't just set him free. Sighing lightly she lifted her gaze after a moment, looking at him with those bright, pleading eyes of her again. "I know it's asking a lot, Sheriff, and I know this man is practically a stranger to me..but I know he is no criminal. He is a good man." The saloon girl started, feeling a strong connection to Frankie. He had been kind to her, treated her like more than just a nice body to use for satisfaction or pleasure. He treated her like a person, not an object. "Even if you don't see it, I do. He does not deserve to be locked up." She said softly, stepping close to the sheriff again, reaching forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, putting on her most innocent, sweet smile. "Please."

She was doing it again. Getting close to him, smiling, looking pretty. It was hard to say no to her when she was acting like this, a trick she knew well. Whether or not she was actually aware she was doing it was another story completely. Maybe she wasn't aware of it. Just a shame that Raf seemed to be immune to her charm. Either that, or he was gay.
Leaning away from the desk, he dug his fingers in to his back pocket and removed the key to the cell. "There. Give him his gun back, and unlock the door. But I want him gone from town, Rita. I want you to personally take him to the end of the road, and tell him to never come back here again." He returned to his seat behind the table. "And Rita? Don't let me down." Montand spoke, referring to him putting his trust in her that she would escort him out of the town as soon as they left the Sheriff's office.

Her eyes lit up and Rita smiled, taking the cell key from the sheriff. "Thank you, Montand. You are also a good man." She murmured, stepping over as he sat behind his desk, leaning down to kiss his cheek softly before leaving for the back room again. Going to Frankie's cell, she grabbed his seven-shot revolver off the table and unlocked his cell, mustering another smile as the heavy metal door swung open with relative easy. "Good news, you're free." She remarked, turning his attention to him after unlocking the door.

Stepping into the cell and approaching him calmly, she held out the pistol to Frankie. "Here, this belongs to you, I believe." She said, offering him his property. "You're free as long as you leave town. And to never come back. Which is what you do anyways, right? Just leave people.." She murmured, her tone a little sadder as the last words came out. "I am to personally escort you to the edge of town and make sure you leave."

Frankie took the weapon from her grip, finally able to hold it after so many hours of sitting in front of him through the bars. Not that he could have used it, anyway. The lack of bullets was a major stumbling block if he wanted to actually use the gun to kill somebody, rather than just to intimidate them. He couldn't believe he'd been caught, although he wasn't expecting the Sheriff to be as on-the-ball as he was. The other towns were rather slow to react to things like stealing.

Getting to his feet, Frankie was a little confused. "Why'd you do this?" He asked, escaping the open prison in a hurry. He headed to the front door -- almost dragging her out by grabbing her arm -- just in case the Sheriff decided to change his mind before he left. When they were outside, he repeated the question again. "Why? What'd you care if I'm free or not?" The Cowboy wanted to say thanks, but the word hadn't cropped on to his tongue yet.

Before she could answer Rita was dragged out of the jailhouse by her arm, barely managing to grab her coat and pull it on as Frankie took her outside, repeating his earlier question. She thought he might be thankful for bailing his ass out, but it seemed his appreciation was taking a while to come out. She mustered a smile before speaking up. "Why? Because you're the first guy in a long time who made me feel like a person and not an object." The saloon girl explained, lowering her gaze but for only a moment.