Mariette And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 2)

by Rosie Harper

  “Glad to see me. I know you are, love. I’ve missed you too, I really did.” the intruder spoke slowly, as if every word was a probing tool, while her body took on a different posture, standing straight with both arms extended toward he silent, full woman. “Now don’t be coy, Pam, it’s been far too long for things like that. Come over here and give me a big hug.”

  She even dares to mock me, the literature professor articulated the words for herself despite her own mental processes rejecting anything of the sort. Teeth clenched, Pamela took a closer look at her former friend, curious in a way, of what the years have done to her.

  By every relevant variable, time seemed to have been kind. Marie had managed to maintain a tight figure, thin in most spots while still possessing some bulk in others. Her hair was now cut short and straightened out, a sharp departure from the flowing black locks she used to wear in high school, and with it came a whole new image, one reminiscent of a biker or punk girl: almost anything on her person was made of leather.

  “Can’t get enough of the view, can you?” the short-haired woman spoke, drawing her arms back toward her body and into the pockets within her pants. “I don’t blame you,” she continued, apparently unfazed by Pamela’s decision to deny her the physical contact she requested. “There are few who can.”

  “Ever the smartass, I see,” the professor finally managed to reply, her anger having impaired her ability to speak in a non-hostile manner. The moniker she used, however, was right on target. Cutting remarks aside, Marie used to be the smartest person in their class. How and if she managed to make something of her intelligence, Pamela did not know.

  “I wonder if you’ll still be as cheeky after I’ve called security on you,” the larger woman continued, not allowing herself to blink while meeting the other one’s gaze.

  “Call security on me?” The intruding woman’s black-colored lips now formed an amused chuckle. “And why exactly would you do that? Am I attacking you in some way? Threatening?”

  “How about stealing? You’ve always had a knack for it. There’s a reason they say that old habits die hard.”

  Now allowing her smile to show a bit of teeth, Marie took a couple of steps away from the wall as she continued “They can frisk me all they want, but I’d much rather that you do it. Regardless,” she purred as she spoke, her face now barely a foot away from that of Pamela, “they won’t find a thing.”

  The professor felt the rage bubble from within, years of hatred she had for this individual now amplified by her obviously instigating attitude. Painfully, it boiled until it reached a point where it felt as if she was going to burst. Then, all of a sudden, it froze. Pamela’s distaste for Marie was still significant, but she was in control again. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of toying with my emotions. Not now, nor ever again.

  “Why are you here, Marie?,” The leather-clad woman was just about to say something else when Pamela interrupted her, the color of her voice now denoting just how much she was fed up with the current situation. “Are you bored of mocking up everyone else’s lives you’ve decided to go full circle and return to where it all began?”

  “You wound me yet again,” the intruder’s expression now seemed almost sincere. “I have come to see you, Marie. Can’t a girl check on her first and best friend?”

  “Of course she can,” the professor rebutted, getting even closer to the other woman. There was now less than two inches of space between their noses. “But you are no longer a friend of mine, Marie. You know why.” Visibly disappointed by Pamela’s choice of words, the short-haired woman retreated several inches. “Now be a dear and go disappear for another decade, please.”

  Slowly, Marie took a small step backward, followed by a series of increasingly faster and longer ones. “You know what, Pam? I believe you,” she formed the words while her expression changed from that of disapproval into something that defied interpretation. “We aren’t friends anymore. We haven’t been for a good while now. However,” the woman spoke louder now, in a clear attempt to overpower the noise of the automatic door that opened to let her through, “that doesn’t mean that we can’t be something else.”

  And with that sentence she was gone, the shutting of the door removing her from Pamela’s sight. By the time the professor managed to get close enough for the passage to open, the short-haired woman was long gone.

  ***

  Good for nothing, white trash, cheap, scrawny little hussy, Pamela grumbled to herself while taking her automobile out of the parking lot. The resulting drive home was far less fulfilling than she expected, and nowhere near as soothing. By the time the woman stood in front of her porch, she was aching for another snack, and that was always a bad sign so soon after her most recent meal.

  My nerves are acting up, the sizeable woman concluded as she reached into her purse to get the key. Having felt the metal ring around her finger, she pulled it out while stepping onto the mat. And now for some- what the...? Carefully, the professor stepped back, away from her door, her gaze firmly fixed down on the area her right foot had touched less than a second ago.

  There was no mistake. Someone had moved it. Thieves? Pamela stepped forward again, checking the integrity of the lock. There was no sign of a break-in or that it was picked. Kids playing?Highly unlikely, the professor concluded, remembering how rarely her neighbors’ children entered her yard. Then who…Her thin eyebrows managed to furrow as she thought of the obvious suspect. Marie!?

  It all made sense. As a kid, Pamela used to hide her keys underneath the mat, and no one knew about it other than her parents and the two of them. The large woman had of course allowed that habit to die since then, but if anyone would look for a key down there, it would be Marie.

  So she tried waiting for me at home first, Pam reasoned while slowly unlocking her front door. And when that didn’t go exactly the way the little weasel wanted, she settled for the University.

  Pleased that at least one of her new habits was actually beneficial, the professor entered her house, tightly locking the entrance behind her. I need a hot shower, she concluded, slowly peeling the layers of clothing off her flowing body as she made her way toward the bathroom. No, actually, make that a bubble bath.

  Some twenty minutes later, Pamela’s sizeable frame lay engulfed within the foamy water that filled her bathtub. What little space I left for the water, that is, she thought, chuckling as her immense bosom floated on the surface, disappearing and reappearing within the fragrant liquid with every move she made.

  For a while she amused herself like that, producing splash after splash and causing the waves and clouds to form all kinds of different shapes and reactions. Like I could have this much fun if I was scrawny like Marie. Almost immediately, the fun disappeared, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

  Expectedly, the professor thought, extending her arms to the edges of her bathtub, I ruin my amusement right when it’s about to get good. Ponderously, she rose to her feet, foam still covering most of her body, but even in that state, the clouded mirror on the opposing wall could not help but display the outline her generous curves.

  God damn it, Pamela cursed silently as she stepped outside of the now-shrinking pool of water. There are some days when you just can’t seem to catch a break from yourself. Having turned around, the woman felt for the plug for a brief moment, before pulling it out and allowing the water to flow out of the tub. That part of the business done, she grabbed a rather large white towel, ready to bring this part of the day to its end.

  Thoroughly, Pamela removed the pleasantly smelling white residue from her body, every little and not-so-little cushion jiggling pleasantly while she was doing so. After it was done, she tossed it onto the pile of dirty laundry that littered a nearby corner, all while approaching the large, obscured mirror.

  Not bad looking, are we? The woman asked herself, seconds after wiping the condensed water from the reflective surface. The face that stared back into her was beautiful, that much was beyond a doubt, with
a rounded, fair-skinned face, framed by locks of dark brown. Her eyes were dark blue, piercing through the soft features that housed them.

  What truly made Professor Pamela Greene stand out, however, was not her face; it was her body. Fantastically sized in both the breast and bottom areas and with a comparatively minor belly, her every little move was sexuality incarnate. Outside, constrained within normal clothing, one could only catch a glimpse of this splendor, but here, nude as she was, the woman was divine.

  Too bad no one gets to see much of it these days, Pamela grumbled silently, turning back toward the living room while wrapping the towel around her head. Within no time at all she was there, faced with a serious case of the munchies.

  Which fast food place will we speed dial tonight? Ecstatically, the plump woman danced toward the spot where she left her handbag, bending over enticingly in order to lift it up. Slowly, she unzipped the purse before letting her hand slide in where her cellphone usually rested, but instead coming upon a large piece of folded paper.

  What the…? Surprised, she pulled her hand back out of the bag, and the intruding object with it. It was colored, printed and decorated from both sides, that much was easy to make out.

  Letting her purse drop straight to the floor, Pamela hurriedly unfolded the paper, soon finding herself staring into some kind of leaflet. The header was typed out in a stylized font, and consisted of but one word: Primal. Below the heading was printed a picture: that of an unremarkable two-storied building, with nothing to distinguish it other than a somewhat larger parking lot. What is this? Some sort of roadhouse?

  There was no description, no catchphrase nor explanation; merely its assumed name, picture, and an address and phone number printed on the bottom of the page. Curious, the professor thought as she further inspected the paper, flipping it on its other side in an attempt to learn more, but the effort was wasted. Besides the other side sharing the same dark green coloration, all it had to offer was some sort of logo, appearing as a stylized bear’s head.

  Why in the world would this be in here? Pamela couldn’t help but wonder. Just as she was about to let the paper fall onto the floor though, the answer immediately leapt straight at her, practically punching her in the face. Marie must have slipped it in somehow, back when we were face-to-face.

  Goddamn it, the professor grit her teeth. She had taken a stand out there and was played for a fool. Wait a second, she didn’t… Quickly, the woman reached back down toward her bag turning, it inside-out and examining every little piece she knew it should have contained. To her surprise, it was all there.

  Phew. For a minute there I thought that she managed to steal from me again. Relieved, Pam allowed her attention to drift back toward another, more innocent and pleasant time, when the two of them were all but inseparable. Parties, dress-up, late-night talks, there wasn’t a thing any one of them did that the other didn’t partake in in some way.

  Sadly, Marie took that a bit too far when she slept with the boy Pamela was seeing at the time. Then, after the ensuing fallout, the clack-haired girl responded by eloping with the young man for areas unknown, vanishing without a trace. The thick-headed little tart didn’t even stick around long enough to graduate from high school.

  After that, for all intents and purposes, Marie was a ghost story. From time to time, someone would mention having seen her here and there, but the literature professor didn’t have that displeasure.

  The displeasure that, I promise, will be all hers, the overly curvaceous woman told herself as she paced across the room, straight toward the telephone. Having forcefully pulled the handset out of its stand, Pamela proceeded to dial the number featured on the paper.

  The monotonous ringing that followed only served to enrage her more. I swear, I am going to give her such bad mouthing at whatever place that is that she’s gonna have t-

  “Primal,” a voice spoke from the other side, coarse, deep and masculine. “What’ll be your pleasure, stranger?”

  “I…,” the tone of the voice seemed to contain a certain trait she could not quantify, “Yeah, hello. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

  “Anything for a hot-sounding little morsel such as yourself,” the man from the other side replied, his disposition significantly improved after he noticed that the caller was female.

  “I am looking for information about a person,” the professor said, trying to find the best possible way to do what she had intended without immediately making her intentions clear. The man from the other side was just about to say something when she continued. “Sir, do you know a woman by the name of Marie Jackson?”

  “Indeed I do. Marie is one of our waitresses. She is not in today, though. Day off, you see. Is there a message you would like me to forward? I’d be happy to please.”

  The way he said that last word sent shivers down the woman’s spine, and she wasn’t completely sure if it was in the good or bad way. Regardless, she was not going to back down. Marie had something like this coming for a long while now.

  “That will not be necessary, thank you. I would, however, like to form an official complaint about your employee’s behavior.”

  “Go on,” the voice from the other side responded after a short pause.

  “I’ve known her for years, you see, but we’ve had a falling out. I haven’t seen her in a good while, not until today. Earlier this evening, you see, Marie came to see me at my job, harassed me for no reason at all, and even slipped one of your leaflets into my purse while she was at it. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against your place, but actions like that are illegal, and I don’t want her to do that again.”

  “I see,” the man replied, apparently in deep thought. “That is unfortunate. Sadly, I cannot do anything about that based on a phone call alone. Do you have anything concrete to back up your claim?”

  “The piece of paper is still with me, I guess. I don’t think there is anything else.”

  “You won’t need it,” the voice replied. “This’ll be enough. lady, would it trouble you too much to drive here tonight so you can file a complaint? I’d understand if it’d be a problem for you, seeing how it’s such a relatively minor infraction, though…”

  “Not at all,” the professor responded, “My privacy had been disturbed today, and I won’t stand for it.”

  “Alright, then. The address is on the piece of paper, as you’ve likely seen by now. You come here any time you like, and you can file a complaint about little Miss Marie. Do that tonight and we’ll throw in a drink on the house. How does that sound?”

  “Just perfect, thank you. See you soon.”

  “You take care, lady. Drive carefully, please. We’re looking forward to meeting someone as pretty-sounding as you face-to-face.”

  “Yeah, the feeling is mutual, thank you,” Pamela replied before ending her call. Elated, she stepped toward the bedroom, ready, willing and able for an interstate drive.

  ***

  Oh well, could have been worse, Pamela noted while she observed the interior of this place they called “Primal”. The smell of tobacco was a bit too powerful, the music too loud, and the floor too dirty, but that was not unexpected for a place that catered to bikers and truckers. Given the shape of some similar establishments, this one was not shabby at all.

  Ah, the salt of the earth, she mused while passing by some of the patrons, none of whom were too busy to miss the sight of the attractive, voluptuous woman as she passed them by. The way some of them looked at her, it was different from what she got back home. Pity, ridicule, even thinly veiled amusement, the professor was used to these kinds of reactions. Here though, everyone peered into her as if she was some kind of prey. It was somewhat unpleasant, but also alluring in a way she could not explain.

  Pamela wasn’t even dressed provocatively, although she did put effort into looking as good as she could: with a brown, skirted business suit that perfectly matched the tone of her hair, and wearing trace amounts of make-up. A pair of thin glass
es, mimicking the shape of cat’s eyes completed the look, giving her an intellectual vibe in a place where something like that appeared anything but common.

  “Looking good, baby!” One of the men turned on his chair to comment, raising his pint in the air before downing it in one gulp. He was of the larger sort, but more on the muscled than soft side, and hairy all over, from the top of his head down to his forearms. Not really knowing how to react to this, Pam merely gave him an awkward smile before continuing her pace toward the counter.

  “Can I get some service here, please?” the woman raised her voice after noticing that no one was there to take her order. The rest of the people here all had their drinks, so someone must have been on the job here. “Hello?” she yelled again, her voice barely managing to break through the roar of the amped-up music.

  “Excuse me, lady,” a voice spoke from behind her, easily recognizable even with this much racket going about. It was the man she spoke with earlier today. Enthusiastically, the literature professor turned around, eager to finally see the face of the individual whose voice had such a profound impact on her. Even now, in its distorted state, she could feel the electricity as it built up in between her legs.

  “The body needs what the body needs,” he explained his absence by vaguely pointing toward the entrance to a nearby bathroom. He was attractive in an uncouth sort of way, tall and lean, and sporting a combination of long dark hair and cowboy moustache that appeared to be common within these parts. His choice of wardrobe only added to the effect he seemed to be going for, consisting of a plain red shirt on top of a heavily worn pair of jeans.

  “Now may I help you, ma’am?” He asked, staring deep into Pamela’s eyes with his own pair of dark brown ones.

  Stricken by the combination of the man’s appearance and voice, the woman’s difficulty in controlling her thoughts now doubled. She tried to answer, but her nether region interfered, trying to put its own words into her mouth. In protest, she brought her legs together, as if to shut “her” up.