An Ideal (West)World

"South of the border. Past Pariah, to Mexico and parts beyond. To somewhere no one knows our names, no one knows who we once were. Just you and me and a sandy beach, making love as the sun sets over the ocean. The waves lapping gently against our naked bodies." My mind paints a picture as his seductive words slowly relax me.

"Free," my voice is breathy as I give into the allure of his touch. I glance down to see James' cock straining at the fabric of his jeans and suddenly wish I could take it out and ride it in front of all these shocked spectators. But that will have to wait.

My clit cries out for attention, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. As if reading my thoughts, he finds it and rubs the tight bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to make me hiss between clenched teeth. I turn to stare at the scenery passing by the window as the train takes us away from the relative safety of the town of Sweetwater. With each passing moment we move closer to the wild, uncivilized parts of the park and further away from the well-behaved Lily I knew. The Lily who would never dare to fool around in such a public place.

"Part your thighs." James' guttural demand sends tingles through me and I'm only too happy to oblige. My will to resist seems to have deserted me, left somewhere in the dust along with my worries and inhibitions. I assist him further by wriggling my skirt up a bit higher with one hand. A breeze hits my face and I realize that the other hand is working my fan back and forth franticly. Still the temperature is rising. Beads of sweat form on my forehead.

No longer caring about where I am, I let my legs fall open a little wider. James presses his advantage to slip a finger inside and then another. He pumps me with his fingers while his thumb draws slow circles around my clit. Desperate moans spill from me and I am helpless to stop them. I can only pray that the steady chug of the engine will drown them out.

"Come for me, Lily." James bids. His gruff command seems to light the spark of the powder keg of lust that had been building. My back arches and the fan drops into my lap as the climax rips through me with brutal force. Still he continues to work me, drawing out the ripples of pleasure until I can't take anymore and I collapse limp onto the bench.

I am still trying to catch my breath and gather my senses when the brakes screech and the train rattles to a rather sudden halt. Murmurs erupt that there is likely something blocking the tracks. But the tone of the murmurs change when the sound of horse hooves and hollers are overheard. By the time the half dozen armed bandits board the train there is a general sense of alarm amongst the passengers.

"Evening ladies and gents. You know what I am and you know what this is. So what say we skip the preamble and get right down to business?" Sawyer McCoy announces calmly and confidently. Though a blood red bandana covers half his face I would recognize the craftsmanship of those leather pants anywhere.

"You heard the man." James chooses that moment to stand alongside the other bandits and pulls his revolver from his belt to aim at the ceiling. His hand never trembles as if he's done this a hundred times.

"Don't think of it as being robbed," Sawyer continues. I can't actually see his mouth but I can tell he's smiling under the mask from the lines that form around the corner of his dark lively eyes. "Think of it as an involuntary sales transaction. For the price of a few trinkets you'll have a colorful story to take back home with you. I'd say that's a square deal, wouldn't you?"

If anyone disagrees no one says so. They sit silent and dumbfounded for a spell and then gradually begin to turn out their pockets. Luke looks even more pleased with himself than usual as he makes his way down the aisle, his bag steadily filling with swag.

As the bandits see to the other passengers, James swaggers up to me. In a husky voice he directs me to remove my jewelry. Only after I slip the cheap paste ring off my finger and into the bag does he offer me a conspiratorial wink. Next I go to remove my cameo choker. When I struggle with the clasp he offers his assistance. "Allow me."

I hesitate for a moment before slowly turning so that he can get behind me. Close enough that I feel his hot breath on my shoulder. His fingers brush over the nape of my neck ever so gently and I can't hold back the shiver of excitement that travels up my spine. "Much obliged," he tips his hat and smirks arrogantly, knowing full well the effect he has on me.

"I said hand it over!" Luke shouting draws my notice. He is struggling to pry something from the clutches of a tall lad with deep set brown eyes. The boy is rail thin with the first wispy makings of a beard. He can't be anymore than eighteen.

"What's this about?" Sawyer approaches the pair, his long black duster trailing on the ground.

"He won't give up the locket." Luke grumbles.

"It belonged to my mother." The lad declares, his tone is indifferent and his chin his held high but the glint of emotion in his soft brown eyes betrays just how much the object means to him.

Sawyer takes the locket and snaps it open revealing a small faded daguerreotype of a prim yet kind looking woman. Just for a moment a wistful look passes over his brow. "Let him keep it. It's tin anyhow." He throws the keepsake back at the clearly grateful lad.

"Looked like real silver to me boss," one of the bandits pipes up.

McCoy gives the man a hard stare, "Curly, Squirrelly, the rest of you go hit up them other cars."

At this point McCoy has reached the well-to-do couple. The wife looks obviously smitten with the well-mannered criminal while her husband seems far less enthusiastic about his brush with infamy. Yet both quickly give up their valuables. When that is done Sawyer raises the lady's hand and lifts his bandana just enough to impart a lingering kiss on her bare knuckles.

"A parting souvenir," he purrs.

I don't think I've ever seen a woman actually swoon until this moment. She falls into the outlaw's arms and he swiftly transfer her to the care of her scowling husband.

"Must be the heat." He shrugs innocently.

One by one the passengers are divested of their valuables without further incident until there is only one left. The man in the far corner with a white ten-gallon hat. He has a hard look about him. A handlebar mustache is perched atop thin lips that seem to be drawn in a permanent grimace.

"You know the score mister." Sawyer directs. "All your goods into the bag and in return I'll let you keep your insides on the inside stead of wearin' 'em as garters."

When the stubborn man refuses to budge Sawyer reaches for the man's silver pocket watch hanging from his ivory waistcoat. Just as quickly the man reaches back and grabs Sawyer's arm. He pulls up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a laughing red devil on his forearm.

The man's thin lips turned up ever so slightly. "You're Sawyer McCoy. There's a $500 bounty on your head."

Sawyer pulls down the handkerchief revealing a wide grin. "$500. Is that all? The sheriff mustn't mentioned the time I ran off with his horse. I expect that's cause his wife was on the back of it. Though I reckon you've got the advantage on me, friend. You know my name, but I can't say I know who you are."

In a flash the hard man has retrieved a gun from his belt and points it inches from Sawyer's face. "My name is Clem Carson, bounty hunter, and I'm the man who is going to bring you to justice."

Unbothered by the gun in his face, the thief throws his head back and a rich laugh fills the train car. "Is that a fact?"

The two men were engaged in an epic stare down when a jolt of the engine sends me stumbling into Sawyer's path. He quickly grabs me around the waist and holds his revolver to my head. I let a look of fear creep over my features. Though I know it's all an act, the feel of a muzzle pressed up against my temple makes it feel mighty authentic.

"My gallant upstanding gent, what is justice worth to you. Is it worth your life? Is it worth hers?"

"Please sir," I plead, "I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt me."

"Have you no decency sir, to threaten the life of a weak, defenseless damsel who clearly has no wits about her." Clem pronounces with a level of chauvinistic condescension that is impressive even for the backwards century he hails from.

"What makes you sure the lady is so defenseless? Appearances can be deceiving." Sawyer pronounces, his tone dancing on the edge of light and menacing. "The most delicate flowers often have the sharpest thorns."

"Clem Carson fears no flower," he snarls.

"There's your first mistake."

"Beggin' your pardon, darlin'." Sawyer whispers and I barely have time to brace myself before I am being launched towards the bounty hunter. I land in his arms and he staggers to catch me.

He looks me over in concern. "Poor helpless lamb. Are you hurt dearie?"

I cling to Clem, sobbing into his pure white vest and thanking him profusely. Then when I get the opportunity, I snake my hand into his jacket and pull the heavy Colt 45 from his shoulder holster. The look of surprise on his face as I point it at him is worth all the gold in the West. At my direction he throws his weapon to the floor and lays face down in the aisle. Sawyer proceeds to hogtie him using perhaps a tad more force than necessary. In his pockets he finds $200, no doubt from his last bounty.

"Mark my words Sawyer McCoy, one day I'll see you're the guest of honor at your very own necktie social." The lawman seethes and then he cranes his neck to direct his withering gaze at me. "And you, you no good conniving jezebel. You deserve to be put in your rightful place on your knees along with your whole duplicitous sex."

"Not so gallant anymore." I kneel and shove a dirty handkerchief into his mouth cutting off his tedious threats. "Ah, that's much better."

McCoy turns his back on Clem to address the rest of his audience. Despite the circumstances they appear to be in awfully good spirits. The female passengers seem particularly adoring as they smile and wave their frilly handkerchiefs in his direction.

"Well, it has been a real pleasure, but I must be movin' on now. When later you recall this tale be sure to tell 'em that Sawyer McCoy swore he never burgled a finer bunch of folks." He dips into a courteous bow before sliding open the door and letting out a high-pitched whistle.

In a matter of moments a waiting crewman rides up with a pack of horses trailing behind. Sawyer jumps onto a sleek spotted appaloosa and off he went, leaving a thoroughly embarrassed Clem Carson bound and gagged on the floor. One more vanquished enemy to add to his legend.

James follows on his heels. My body is humming with so much adrenaline that I don't even think twice as I leap onto the back of his swift black stallion. One by one the gang scatters as we ride helter-skelter for the cover of the tree line. I take the first chance I get to slip off my stuffy gloves and let the wind take them. Fuck propriety. Once bare I reach around to run my palms along the smooth hard planes of James' chest.

We gallop along for some time. I can't keep the blissful grin from my lips as I press my cheek against James back. When we arrive at a predetermined destination along the bank of a river, dusk is just settling over the landscape, casting long cool shadows over the parched reddish earth.

James dismounts in one smooth motion and eases me off the horse. As I glide down his hard body I wrap my arms around his neck to draw us even closer together as I relish the strength of his hold. It feels like home. I don't think I've ever loved him more than I do at this moment.

He takes my chin in his hand, his gaze steely and intense before his mouth captures mine. We share a deep kiss, at once firm and tender. It savors of love along with a strong dose of passion so potent my lips burn with it.

We are abruptly brought back to reality (well, quasi-reality) by a sharp whistle cutting through the canyon. The signal. It sets off a flutter of nervous butterflies in my stomach. James must read the apprehension on my face because he offers me an encouraging smile.

Only one more step left in the mission. To divvy up the shares with the rest of the gang before going our separate ways. A straightforward enough task. So why the butterflies? No matter. When James stretches out his hand for mine I take it without a second thought, ready to follow him anywhere.

Hand in hand, we follow in the direction of the sound through the thick brush. After a few minutes of slogging through a crop of scraggly windblown trees we come across a clearing where a covered wagon awaits us. McCoy is propped against a nearby rock with his back to us. James hollers his name and when he doesn't turn, he gives his shoulder a shove. The gunslinger slumps forward. It's then I notice the large bowie knife sticking out of his neck. I cover my mouth in horror but not before a startled yelp escapes my lips.

Luke chooses that unfortunate moment to appear. His face crumples when he takes in the bloodstained corpse of the legendary outlaw. "Who could have done this?"

That's when one of the extras comes out from the bushes, his hand hovering just above the butt of his bone-handled gun. It's the short wiry one with the pushy elbows.

"Curley?" Luke sounds as shocked as I am.

"I'm Squirrelly dammit!" he insists with a thick nasally twang.

"Well excuse the shit out of me." Luke throws his hands up. "That can't be what this is about. McCoy couldn't keep your name straight, so you offed him."

Squirrelly wipes the sweat from his greasy brow. "Could be. Could be I did it for the money."

"What would a lowlife like you do with a mountain of cash? No, you couldn't take playing second fiddle to a better man." James goads.

"Second fiddle?" Squirrelly pulls a crumpled wanted poster from his pocket and waves it in the air. "Wanted dead or alive Sawyer McCoy and gang. And gang! I ain't even mentioned by name! He's been the tall hog on the farm for long enough now he's deader than a stuck pig and it's gonna be my turn at the trough. From here on out it's going to be the Squirrelly Gang."

"Doesn't quite have the same ring to it if you ask me." I reply dryly. "Besides, your all alone and who ever heard of a gang of one."

"Who said I was alone?" Squirrelly motions and a dozen men emerge from the brush. At the sight of their drawn weapons the three of us raise ours in a ubiquitous western style standoff. "It wasn't hard to turn 'em. McCoy was getting too soft. Turning down jobs just cuz a few innocent folks might get hurt. All I had to do was promise the men that I'd never let a little thing like conscience get in the way of a good score."

"You treacherous snake!" James exclaims. "McCoy trusted you. He made you his lieutenant."

"See, that there just proves his poor leadership skill, don't it? If I was in charge I would never trust the likes of me." Squirrelly's grin reveals a mouth full of crocked brown choppers.

"So what now?" Luke asks.

"Now you hand over your share nice and quiet like and I swear I won't have you shot full of more holes than a sluice box."

"Seems to me that would be making the same mistake as McCoy, trusting the word of a no-good traitor. And look how that turned out for him." James gestures to the body that is already starting to gather flies.

"Then I suppose we're at what you might call an impasse." Squirrelly announces and then promptly opens fire.

The rest of his men follow suit and we are suddenly surrounded by a hail of bullets. James and I are forced to duck for cover. We hunker down behind a rock with Luke crouching in a bush a few yards away.

"I bet you're wishing you took that riverboat cruise right about now." Luke shouts at me over the crackling of gunfire.

"And miss all this fun, wouldn't dream of it." I holler. Surprised by my own newfound boldness, I return fire with the bounty hunter's borrowed Colt. As the weighty gun goes off in my hand I feel the kickback like the bucking of a bronco.

Just then a bullet ricochets off the rock so close to James face that it knocks the Stetson right off his head. Anger colors my vision bright red. I follow the direction of the shot to a large brute hiding behind the wagon. Calmly and carefully I take aim and the next time he popped his head up from behind the wagon I squeeze the trigger.

The bullet catches him right between the eyes. As I watch the big man drop to the dirt an electric rush of power runs up my arm and through my body. It's almost as good as sex. Almost.

"Well look at you Annie Oakley." Luke says with a note of begrudging respect. The pleased look on his face quickly vanishes when a shot strikes him in the arm. "Fuck that hurts. Dammnit. Double crossed by a two-bit sidekick like Squirrelly. If I get my hands on the author of that plot twist I'm going to choke him with his own sense of dramatic irony."

"You can write a scathing review later but first we have to make it out of here with our hides intact." James advises coolly as bullets whiz all around us.

"If you have a plan for how we're going to do that I'm all ears."

"If you would shut up for a second I'll think of something. We're outnumbered three to one. Unless you'd rather just storm in there halfcocked-"

"Sounds good to me." With that Luke runs out guns blazing like Hondo meets Rambo. James curses under his breath and then follows his boneheaded friend towards the direction of the gunfire.

The ensuing shootout is brief and bloody and when it's all over James and Luke are standing alone in a field scattered with motionless bodies. My heart is still in my throat when James gives me the all clear. I examine the carnage briefly. Squirrelly is lying face down in the dirt surrounded by his fallen men. So much for the Squirrelly Gang I think as I move past him to rush to James' side.

I run my palms across his chest to confirm that he is still in one piece. Then I kiss him hungerly, pouring all my relief and devotion into the kiss. He lets me have my way for a while before gradually taking the reins of control. My eyelids flutter shut as I give in to the spell his lips weave.

As if from a distance I hear Luke call out but it's too late. My eyes fly open just in time to see Squirrelly roll over from his prone position. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a knife. It catches the evening sun as he draws his arm back, aiming right between James' shoulder blades. Instinctively I rotate our bodies 180 degrees.

An instant later I feel a sharp pain like a wasp sting and then a warm wetness spreads across my back. James eyes are wide as he looks down on me. His hand is shaking as it pulls out the knife. It is slick with my blood. The sticky red liquid drips down the blade. A look of rage clouds his features and he reaches for his gun and unloads shot after shot into Squirelly's body until it clicks empty. Still he continues to pull the trigger.

My legs are suddenly unsteady and James draws his gaze back to me as I start to sway. Carefully he cradles me in his arms and lowers me to the ground. The earth that meets my back is cool and hard.

"Stay with me Lily." James commands.

"How could I leave you James? We are bound to one another." I offer him a weak smile. The warmth in my back has turned cold. My whole body is cold. Not even the heat of James' embrace can reach me now. "I can almost see that far off beach. Can you see it?"

"Yes Lily, I see it." He answers, his eyes glisten with unshed tears. How beautiful his eyes are, as blue and bottomless as the sea.

"Tell me about it, James." The vision of his handsome face flickers before my eyes and grows dim. The pain has also dimmed, replaced by a heavy numbness.