by Wol-vriey
Big Trouble in Little Ass
By Wol-vriey
Burning Bulb Publishing
P.O. Box 4721
Bridgeport, WV 26330-4721
www.BurningBulbPublishing.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 - 2014 Burning Bulb Publishing. All rights reserved.
Cover illustrated by Gary Lee Vincent with the sexy cowgirl image used under license; © Danomyte - Fotolia.com
Kindle edition
CHAPTER 1
Jude rode into Little Ass late Thursday evening.
The sun was three-quarters set. The sky above it was smeared with red like a goddess had wiped her fanny with it while having her period.
Distorted by shadows, Little Ass looked like a mess of old ships crashed together. The town’s name came from the odd shape of the mountains to its south. Instead of being pointed, Mount Ass’s twin peaks were rounded.
The Indians said the mountains were a buried goddess’s buttocks.
Jude rode through the town, keeping a watchful eye. He had lots of enemies, had no idea where one might turn up.
Little Ass was a mining town fallen on hard times now the gold seams in the mountains were all worked out. A few companies still doggedly drilled shafts and sent men down into the exhausted seams in Mount Ass, but the gold rush had long moved elsewhere. Most of the townsfolk had returned to farming and rustling cattle as professions.
Jude passed Quaker families on their way to evening service, kids playing in the dust, and chattering bosomy matrons coming and going from stores.
He passed a group of black sharecroppers offloading sacks of wheat and beans into a storehouse.
A group of drunks lounged outside a saloon. Beer steins in hand, they were watching two of their number slug it out.
“C’mon Mike, knock that prick’s teeth back down his lyin’ throat!” a man yelled.
Mike, a blond guy with thick mustaches, flung a punch at his opponent, a redhead. The redhead ducked and tripped him up. Mike grabbed the redhead’s shirtfront as he went down. Both men landed heavily in the dust. The brawl continued.
Guzzling their beers, the drinkers exhorted the fighters to greater inebriated violence.
Jude laughed and rode on.
Jude attracted little attention from the townspeople.
He was a tall, thin man in a brown leather jacket and trousers, and a Stetson hanging over his back. He had short black hair, cold gray eyes, a thin merciless mouth, and a nose sharp enough to cut meat with.
A bone-white revolver bounced on his hip as he rode.
Jude had a three days growth of beard. He’d been in the saddle that long.
He’d only stopped once, when his horse, a massive white stallion, had broken down.
On dismounting and inspecting it, Jude discovered the horse was leaking oil from its ass. It had taken him an hour to discover the cause. Nothing serious — he’d been feeding it too much sugar and not enough oatmeal cakes again.
A few spanner twists and the horse was fine again.
Jude had a knack for getting into trouble. He either picked the wrong town to stop in, the wrong bar to drink in, or the wrong woman to bed. Or simply took the wrong job.
But Jude was good with a gun. His gun skills got him out of as many scrapes as his bad luck hex got him into.
***
The town undertaker was loading a coffin onto his funeral wagon when Jude reached his workshop.
Jude reined in his horse and hailed him. “Good evening, Sir. How do I find Zizi’s?”
The undertaker smiled. He was a plump, middle-aged, kindly-looking gent. “The brothel? Keep on straight through town, heading for the mountains. Zizi’s place is right on the outskirts.”
He chortled. “Want a word of advice, son?”
“What’s that, Sir?”
“If you want a good woman at Zizi’s, ask for Nell.”
“Nell?” Jude tasted the name like wine.
“She’s the best thing they’ve got there, son. Take my word for it.”
Jude nodded. “I’ll do that, Sir. Thanks.”
He rode off. The man had confirmed the directions he’d been given.
CHAPTER 2
Zizi’s Brothel was a large two-story brick building built by a plantation owner shortly before the start of the Civil War. Why it was situated two thousand miles from the man’s plantation was a mystery no one had ever resolved.
Behind it, Mount Ass rose in its dual curves.
An Indian tribe had lived on the mountain. The Indians had occasionally raided wagon trains coming to Little Ass. Now, with the gold boom gone bust, the Indian raiders had also left, seeking greener pastures.
Jude tethered his horse and entered Zizi’s.
A Mexican prostitute met him immediately as he stepped through the front door. She was pretty, with a snub nose and full lips. Her big breasts were tightly clasped in a cream-colored bodice. Her tight corset made her waist wasp-like.
He tipped his hat to her. “I’m Jude, Miss. I’m here to see Madam Zizi.”
The woman smiled, showing perfect teeth. “Madam, she ees expecting you, Señor! My name ees Rosa. You ees follow me.”
Jude followed Rosa. Her hips shook in her skirt like her backbone was congenitally unable to hold her waist stable.
Jude smiled. He knew she was wiggling for his benefit. This was a brothel — her body was a commodity for sale.
Rosa led the way across the large blue sitting room.
To their right was a bar. Three men sat drinking around a table. Prostitutes were on two of the men’s laps, obscuring their faces.
Jude had an unobstructed view of the third man. He didn’t like what he saw.
The man’s dirty blond hair framed a thin, wicked face, with cold eyes and a ruthless mouth.
The man’s eyes met Jude’s for a moment. In that moment, Jude felt he was looking into a waterless well.
***
Zizi received Jude in her upstairs study.
The brothel owner was an attractive blue-eyed French-Canadian brunette. Her face and figure were just starting to show the signs of old age.
She rose when Rosa introduced Jude. He tipped his hat to her. Her smile was cool, and appraising.
“Welcome to Little Ass, Mr. Jude,” she said, “I trust your trip wasn’t unpleasant.” She indicated the seat opposite hers. “No Indian trouble?”
Jude sat. “The journey could have been better. My horse broke down.”
Zizi gave him a queer look, as did Rosa. Both their eyes asked the same question: Could a horse break down?
Zizi waved a hand at the Mexican girl. “Go fetch us some coffee, Rosa.”
Rosa left.
Once she’d gone, Zizi stood and paced the room. “Your telegram said you’d be here last Thursday,” she said angrily. “What kept you?”
“I told you. My horse —”
She interrupted him, her voice cold as New York snow. “You could have simply taken the railway, Mr. Jude.”
“I take my horse everywhere I go, Madam. It is as essential to me as a lady of your profession considers her breasts and vagina.”
Zizi’s eyes widened at the simile/insult. She stiffened, bristling, and then she relaxed. She was a whore — a prostitute by any other name was still a prostitute. Besides, that wasn’t the matter at hand now.
She smiled coolly. “Whatever you say — the length of a journey is never as important as arriving safely a
t one’s destination. What matters is that you are here now.”
Jude nodded. He favored her with a confident smile. “Your ranch will shortly be back in your hands.”
Zizi frowned. “Don’t be cocky, Mr. Jude. I can assure you that this won’t be a walk in the park —”
“If it was, you wouldn’t have sent for me. I’m expensive, but worth it. I always get the job done.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. I’ve a question. There are three men downstairs, — real roughneck sorts — who are they?”
Zizi’s frown deepened. “They’re part of my problem, Mr. Jude. The blond’s their leader. His name’s Ike Dallas. He’s Bennett’s right hand. Ike’s as bad as they come, as ornery a coyote as you’ll ever find.”
Jude smiled. “I meet loads of coyotes, lady. Their surviving friends generally run the other way on sighting me.”
“Just get Edison Bennett off my ranch, Mr. Jude.”
Zizi got out a wad of bills from her desk, split it in half, and threw half to Jude.
She sat while he counted the money.
***
Outside the door, Rosa stood eavesdropping.
She’d arrived with the coffee tray a minute earlier. About pushing the door open, she’d heard Edison Bennett’s name mentioned.
Rosa was Ike Dallas’s main girl at the brothel. She’d initially been impatient to get back downstairs before Ike tired of waiting for her and called some other prostitute to warm his lap.
Now, however, she listened carefully. Ike would be interested in any information that would help Mr. Bennett. He’d likely pay her a bonus for her services if she heard something of value.
***
“It’s all here,” Jude said. “And my balance?”
“You’ll get it, as agreed — immediately once that scoundrel Bennett is off my land.”
Jude nodded. He put the money in a pocket.
Zizi scowled. “Where has that tramp gotten to with our coffee? She’s most likely letting Ike Dallas feel her —”
Rosa entered. “I ees sorry, Madam. I ees telling Nell zat…” She set the tray down and hastily began pouring.
“No need for haste, Mr. Jude,” Zizi said. “I suggest you relax tonight and start work tomorrow. Would you care for some dinner, and afterward…” She cast a sly eye at Rosa’s rump, now poised before Jude’s face as she poured into Zizi’s cup. “... maybe a partner for the night? On the house, of course.” She indicated the set of buttocks in his face. “Rosa, for instance, gives fantastic blowjobs.”
Rosa grinned broadly. “It ees true, Señor. My mama she ees teach me. Ees a deep throat family secret —”
“I hear you’ve a girl here called Nell,” Jude said. “I’d like her.”
Zizi raised an eyebrow. “Nell? Who told you about her?”
“The undertaker, I asked him for directions.”
Rosa spat angrily. The gob just missed Jude’s coffee. “Zat ees her father, Señor Doc. Can you ees imagine zat, Señor? Zat ze father ees pimping his own daughter?”
“Shut up, Rosa!” Zizi snapped. “Just like in your case, prostitution is obviously family business. Organizing funerals doesn’t pay if no one’s dying.”
She nodded at Jude. “She’s telling the truth. That was Nell’s father you spoke to.” Her lips thinned into a cool, enigmatic grin. “But, Nell’s a strange one, Mr. Jude. Are you sure you really…”
Jude was curious now. “Send me Nell tonight,” he said. He patted his white revolver and laughed. “If the sex isn’t up to my expectations, I’ll kill her... just like Bennett.”
Zizi’s eyes widened in alarm. Her gaze darted to Rosa.
Rosa stiffened as she became the center of attention.
Jude realized his slip-up. He pulled out his white pistol and stuck it in Rosa’s bent-over ample cleavage. He stirred her breasts with the barrel.
He frowned at the Mexican prostitute. “Did you overhear something, Señorita?”
Rosa shook her head. “I ees hearing nothing, Señor.” She was shivering as she spooned sugar into Zizi’s coffee.
“Get lost,” Zizi told Rosa. “And keep your Hispanic mouth shut.” She drew a thumb across her throat. “If you don’t…”
Rosa fled.
Zizi regarded Jude coldly. “That was unwise. She’s Ike Dallas’s moll.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “I’d like to have a bath before dinner.”
Zizi stood up. “Of course, Mr. Jude. I’ll show you to your room. She smiled lewdly. Do you want Nell to join you in the bathtub?”
Jude shook his head. “She’ll be unable to stand the stink of me. But have her join me for dinner. I’ll eat her afterwards.”
***
Though scared, Rosa didn’t immediately head downstairs. She hid in the room opposite Zizi’s study and waited.
Her patience paid off. Through the ajar door, she watched Zizi and Jude emerge. The Madam led Jude to a room at the end of the hallway.
A few minutes later, Zizi emerged again.
“I’ll send Bess up with hot water for your bath,” she said, then shut Jude’s door.
Rosa waited till Zizi was out of sight, then she ran downstairs to where Ike Dallas and his companions were drinking.
“I needs to see you upstairs now in ze bedchamber,” she whispered to Ike. “Ees life and death important.”
When Ike saw she was serious, he got up and followed her to her room.
Once she’d locked the door behind them, Ike began unbuckling his belt.
“No, no, no!” Rosa whispered harshly. “Zat ees not ze why I ees calling you here!”
“Oh no? Get into bed, whore.”
“You must listen,” Rosa insisted. “Ze new gringo zat is just checking in. Madam ees hiring him to kill Señor Bennett.”
Ike paused in removing his boots. His eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”
Rosa nodded. “I ees overhearing zem discuss eet. Madam ees wanting her ranch back —”
Ike resumed removing his boots. “I’ll take care of the punk later.”
Rosa was dumbfounded. “He ees about having his bath now.”
“Rosa, fucking stop yapping and come suck my peter.”
“What? You ees not going to kill heem right now?”
Ike rolled his eyes. “So fucking what if some punk wants to kill Bennett? Won’t be the first time, or the last either.”
“You must kill him now for my honor. He ees stick ees gun in my breasts.”
Ike slapped Rosa hard across the face. Her head snapped back, her eyes bugged out.
“You ees loco! What ees you doing zat for?”
“So you know I’m serious here. Now, shut the hell up and take my gringo pecker up your Latino ass, like your mommy taught you to do.”
Rosa glared at Ike. The left side of her face was slowly turning as purple as his erection.
“You ees true gringo pig, Señor Ike. Big and bad and smelly and wicked.” She examined her face in the mirror. “But still I ees like you. I ees get paid double tonight for my information, yes?”
Ike removed his boots. “Shut the fuck up, Rosa. Get your ass in the bed before I kick you into it.”
“You ees ze genuine chauvinistic gringo swine, like ze women’s movement ees advertising against. Why I ees love you, I does not know.” Rosa began furiously undoing her yellow bodice.
“Forget that,” Ike said, fondling his erection. “I’m in a hurry here. Just pull your drawers off.”
Rosa dubiously considered Ike’s erection. Ike Dallas’s penis was short, but was swollen thrice normal size in its middle. It looked like a legless, skinless rat. Or a sweet potato tuber.
Ze ugly gringo rat penis ees nice in ze Mexican vagina, Rosa thought miserably, but in ze Mexican culo, it ees ze very hurtful. Where I ees leave ze lard?
She’d gotten one leg of her underpants off when Ike decided she wasn’t fast enough and shoved her down on her belly.
He rucked her skirt up over he
r back, spit on his malformed penis and forced it into her anus.
“Ah, Señor, you ees not waiting for me to greeze my —”
“Oh, shut your yap, Rosa. Okay, I’ll pay you triple tonight. Just stop talking and start fucking!”
Rosa gripped the bed clothes and began whimpering.
Zis pain es good, ees good financial pain, she thought, tears streaming from her eyes. No pain ees no gain. I ees get ze big bonus tonight.
CHAPTER 3
Nell was five feet six inches tall and had corn-colored hair. She was slim, with small buttocks and breasts. She wore a yellow dress trimmed with white.
Nell had full sensual lips and deep blue eyes that twinkled.
Jude thought her good-looking, but not exceptionally so. He’d expected someone as voluptuous as Rosa.
At dinner, she was good company, her conversation witty though occasionally acerbic. She laughed a lot, but Jude deduced that she had a short fuse.
***
Once in Jude’s room. Nell’s sunny attitude altered. She became all business. Her blue eyes became shimmering pools of avarice.
“Get undressed, Mister.” Her smile now was coolly detached and professional. The fun was all gone from her.
Jude wasn’t sure what to make of the change. He shrugged. He was getting her services for free. Nothing lost if she was shit in bed.
He sat on the bed and pulled his boots off.
“Hold on a moment,” Nell said.
Jude had his pants half off. “Miss, you said get undressed.”
She smiled coolly. “I hope Zizi told you I get paid twice as much as the other girls.”
Jude shook his head.
“Not in this case, sweetheart. You’re on the house. Ask your boss.”
Nell shook her head back at him. “Oh no,” she said, “I don’t do handouts. Get yourself one of the other girls.”
Jude glared at her adamant face, then looked down at his erection. He adjudged his penis to be about as hard now as the flinty look on Nell’s face.