Her Cowboy

by Kat Catesby

  “You sound a little secretive for a job that’s just supposed to be dancing.” It’s not a question.

  I sigh, not really seeing much of a way around it. “The club is an exclusive members club – I can’t really tell you much about it in case you don’t want the job and talk about it where you shouldn’t but equally if I don’t tell you about the club, you won’t think the job is on the level.”

  “I can keep a secret. Even if the job isn’t for me, I’m no blab.” She looks sincere and I pride myself on getting a good read on people.

  Here goes nothin’…“It’s a member’s only erotic club. Have you heard of the Rock Hard Club?”

  “The nightclub in town?”

  “Yeah, that one. Well upstairs is a very different scene to the après ski nightclub downstairs. Members pay to watch the performers in all manner of displays; from purely exotic dancing, bondage scenes to hardcore sex. Any kind of erotic or sexual thing you can think of is performed for the visual pleasure of the patrons. Private performances are not for sale, sex is not for sale; the only staff having sex are the performers who are paid to. The guests are not allowed to touch the performers and vice versa. It is purely visual stimuli. Guests are permitted to have sex with one another and there are private rooms for them should they feel the urge to do so. Dixon Cooper, the club’s owner, needs a pole dancer; someone who can make the guests hot and bothered with their moves and in between performances can help at the bar. No one would be allowed to touch you and you wouldn’t be naked. Just provocative dancing in a skimpy outfit. Is that something that would interest you?”

  She’s silent for a long moment while she considers this. “Perhaps. Do you have a way for me to contact this Dixon guy?”

  I pull out my wallet from my jeans back pocket and thumb through the contents until I find Dixon’s business card and pass it to her.

  “If you call him, tell him I recommended you for the position. He’ll trust that you’re actually there for the job that way and not just snooping around for a story.”

  “A story?”

  “He had a bit of trouble with an overzealous reporter a few years ago – they were chasing rumors in the wind but she was persistent and hung around for a while. Made it difficult for business to continue as normal. It made Dixon a bit prickly with who he trusts, hence why you should say I sent you.” Just thinking about how that reporter hung around has me equal parts amused and annoyed. I couldn’t go to the club for a month until she cleared off…tail between her legs because someone had ‘anonymously’ tipped off her editor to the fact that she’d slept with the story in question. Dixon seduced her, fucked her seven ways till Sunday but filmed the whole thing and sent the evidence to her boss. She was pulled from the non-existent story and Dixon threatened to sue the newspaper saying that she seduced him and then he found out she was trying to run a story on him that would ruin him and that it was all a shady form of entrapment. The newspaper ran a mile and the story was never followed up. I’d have felt bad for the reporter but she really was an obnoxious witch who managed to alienate more than half the town with her bad attitude and passive-aggressive comments.

  Maddie turns the card over and over with her delicate fingers. “I’ll give it some thought, thank you.” And with that, she stands and heads towards the stairs, “Night Asher, and thank you again.”

  I nod as she disappears back up to Katie’s room and try not to think about the prospect of bumping into Maddie at the Club. All the members know each other – it’s not a massive town after all – but we are all discreet and pass no judgment on each other’s persuasions. But I feel like watching Maddie dance would be just a little too close to home. Luckily, my tastes run a little more hardcore than just watching a pretty body dancing around a pole so she probably wouldn’t be on my radar at all.

  * * *

  As I return to my house the next morning after my chores down at the stables, I notice that Maddie’s car is gone. She must have left early and I wonder whether Katie went with her? I bounce up the back-porch steps, keen to find out the answer.

  The sound of Katie singing as I enter through the back door alerts me otherwise. Katie is here alone…and singing along to the radio. The woman can hold a tune and the melodic sound of her voice floats through the house, drawing me towards its source…the scantily-clad star of last nights’ wet dreams, sauntering around my kitchen making herself breakfast.

  I tried not to dream about her but not picturing her in all her naked glory spread out beneath me while my unyielding cock speared into her soft pussy was futile. I dreamed that dream and I woke up covered in a bucket load of my hot cum. Thoughts of Katie had me soaking myself and my sheets like a fucking teenager blowing his load the first time he got a good look at a Playboy centerfold.

  Just like the dream, not staring at her now is also futile…I try but I fail and I’m not as distraught about that as I should be.

  Katie is wearing tiny pajamas that barely cover her ass cheeks and a teeny tiny tank top that strains against the generous swell of her breasts. She’s braless and either slightly chilled or aroused cause damn it, those perky erect nipples look good enough to eat.

  I notice the swelling on her forehead has subsided and there’s barely a bruise marring her flawless skin as she sways to the music, preparing pancakes and bacon. One of my favorite breakfast foods – I should make myself known so that I can ask if she minds making extra…and so that I’m not just some creepy pervert of a boss staring at her from the safety of a shadowy corner.

  I tiptoe backward towards the back door, open it and slam it louder than necessary and walk heavily towards the kitchen to alert her to my presence. I don’t want her startling and spilling hot oil on herself – she’s had enough injuries for one week.

  “Mornin’” I call out, just to make it really obvious that I’m in the house, as I round the corner into the kitchen.

  After all that, she still manages to look startled and drops a utensil on the floor. Katie bends over to retrieve it and flashes me a generous amount of pearly white skin and that barely concealed, edible round ass of hers. There’s something so utterly sensual about how her thighs, hips, and ass move so fluidly together like silk or water lapping gently on a shoreline. I want to lick my tongue along the smooth juncture between her thighs and those delectable cheeks…I wonder if she’s ticklish?

  “Now that is a welcome a man could get used to.”

  She turns quickly and her face goes up in flames, her nipples puckering to even harder points in that scrap of a top. I have to wilfully restrain myself from reaching out and rubbing my thumbs along them.

  Pulling out a stool at the breakfast bar, I sit to conceal my rapidly hardening dick.

  “Pancakes?” she manages to squeak. The morning sunlight streaming through the big picturesque windows frame her body and shimmer her blond bed hair like a halo. Katie is like a real-life sex angel thrown into my path to tempt me.

  “Please. And some bacon if there’s some going spare?” She turns and places more bacon into the sizzling pan. “Maddie gone?”

  “Yes,” she breathes, evidently relieved to have a safe topic of conversation. “She had to leave early, something about a tip-off for a potential job. She didn’t say what though. Said she’d call later.”

  I’m guessing Maddie called Dix after all. Fingers crossed that works out for her.

  “And how are you? Sleep well? Your forehead looks so much better today.”

  “I knew I looked a state in the bathroom yesterday…” she trails off at the thought and blushes at the conversation she’s unwittingly started.

  “You were anything but a state,” I wink – yeah actually wink – at her. What the hell? My audacity is rewarded however, by the delicious deepening of her blush. So few women actually blush anymore and for someone who previously enjoyed sex on the racier side of the spectrum, the blush is, even more, a rarity.

  “I’m feeling much better and slept really well thank you,” she replies, bl
atantly ignoring my flirting…or so I thought. “Were you outside the door?”

  I thought she’d sussed that from my less than subtle innuendo at dinner last night. “You need to ask?” I arch a brow suggestively. Of course, I heard you woman, you were screaming my name. My only regret was not staying in the bathroom to watch the show.

  She considers me a moment, steel flashing in her eyes. “Well, I’m not going to deny it or make excuses. I’m a red-blooded woman with a healthy sexual appetite and you’re hot as fuck. You also happened to be the one to suggest I think of you…I was merely following my bosses’ instructions. So, I thought of you and came like a freight train. But don’t be fooled; don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me or the massively obvious erection you’re trying to hide by sitting yourself that far under the kitchen island.”

  Busted.

  My eyes widen in utter shock at this – Katie is far more observant than I’ve given her credit for and I’m going to have to watch myself against her penetrating eyes and sexy sass.

  “Like a freight train huh?”

  “Considering the sex and then the lack thereof I’ve had over the past few years, ‘freight train’ is probably an understatement. But that brings me squarely to a few points that I suppose we need to discuss.”

  Here we go.

  “You’re my boss – “

  “And that would stop me because?” Why am I arguing? She’s trying to distance herself for my overly forward and flirtatious behavior. Sure, she’s receptive to it, but she’s trying to rise above whatever connection is simmering between us.

  “I also don’t do casual, which seems to be your speed if you can go from bedding Carly to blurring the lines of our professional relationship in the space of a day…less than if we’re being honest.”

  “Ouch.” True, but sounds fucking brutal when she says it like that. I must look like a total man-whore to her. Hmm, I may need to rethink my strategy…

  Why am I even trying to concoct a strategy?!

  “Just calling it as I see it.”

  “Maddie gave me ‘the chat’ last night. I’m well aware of where you stand on casual and I’m under strict instructions not to put any kind of moves on you unless I’m serious. She didn’t however, cover any boundaries where flirting is concerned.” I smirk.

  Katie’s laugh rings out, filling the space between us with the sweetest, joyful sound. “Oh god, she didn’t?” She asks while wiping laughter tears from the corners of her eyes.

  “She did.”

  “Poor you. Take heed, do not cross her. Maddie would make an excellent Domme…there’s pure steel beneath that graceful exterior.”

  My turn to laugh and I do…a full belly laugh from the depths of my core. From my interactions with Maddie, Katie isn’t wrong; the woman would be an amazing dominatrix…commanding, elegant…deadly.

  “I need to ask you an awkward question,” she doesn’t look too uncomfortable as she picks at her breakfast on the other side of the island so I’m not too concerned.

  “Your best mate gave me ‘the talk’, you screamed my name while getting off to thoughts of me and now your nipples are so erect, I can barely focus on my breakfast – you really think there’s such a thing as an awkward question at this point?”

  Katie blushes for the millionth time this morning and glances down at her breasts to confirm my assessment of her nipples – and then shrugs. A small little gesture that tells me she doesn’t give a fuck and even goes as far as to pull her shoulders back, thrusting them out in my direction. Blatantly a ‘deal with it’ attitude. These are my breasts and they ain’t going nowhere.

  Good.

  “What kind of Dom are you? Are your subs completely subservient or just in the bedroom? And would you object to not doing it while we’re housemates? It might make me uncomfortable and I don’t want any more dates with doorframes.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of keeping my dick in my pants, especially if it saves my doorframes,” I smile wryly while she just rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m also not a Dom. At least, not the way you’re thinking. I don’t keep subs, I don’t do punishments, I just like to play in the bedroom. I’m good at what – and who – I do but I want to be the one in control while we do it.”

  “We?”

  “Figure of speech and hypothetical. There’s something truly profound and intimate about someone giving you complete control over them sexually and I wouldn’t seek control if I couldn’t deliver. Giving pleasure gives me pleasure. I just like a woman tied up while I’m doing it.”

  “Do you not like to be touched or have some other dark emotional issue that drives you to seek control?” Her tone is light but her words betray that’s she genuinely asking if I’m fucked up like her ex.

  “I can show you my psyche evaluation if you like?” I joke. “It’s just a kink that I enjoy; no ulterior motives.”

  “So, you could do vanilla then? You don’t have to be kinky to function or anything?”

  “Asking for yourself?” I tease.

  “Just trying to figure out the type of man I’m sharing a house with for the next few weeks.” Her blush betrays her yet again. She’s trying to work out if she can trust her infatuation with me and if I’m any good for her, all thoughts of the boss/employee relationship apparently forgotten.

  My turn for a question, “Just how vanilla are you?”

  Katie laughs that full-bodied laugh once more. “I’m so vanilla I make virgins look kinky.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Yes,” she answers almost immediately. “But I’ve just pulled myself out of the tangled web that was my relationship with David and I can still feel the creepy strands of icky-ness on my skin when I let my memories take hold. I got lost in his dark mind games until I became nothing more than a vessel for his own gratification. So, for now, vanilla is as good as it gets; cowgirl, missionary – as long as I’m not too pinned…yeah, that’s about it. Any position where I can’t see what’s happening is a no go. The same goes for a position that takes away my autonomy. I don’t necessarily want control over my bedmate but I have to have control over myself. Being comfortable enough to try and trust someone again is a big thing for me. It’s something I don’t suspect will come easily to me and that I’m going to have to work on.”

  That all sounds reasonable to me so I answer her question I dodged. “I don’t need kink to function. I could do vanilla…for the right woman.” I can’t help myself; I stare shamelessly into her vibrant blue eyes and watch her rosy blush creeping across her cheekbones and spreading down her neck to her chest. Even without a bra, she has an amazing cleavage…a blushing cleavage that I want to kiss the soft undulations of.

  Katie Morgan is my Kryptonite; I get the sinking feeling that she is the one girl I’d be tempted to have a non-kinky sex life with…to start with anyway.

  Chapter Six

  Katie

  “Get dressed,” Asher orders once we’ve both finished breakfast and he’s loaded the dirty plates into the dishwasher.

  “Why?” I have every intention of getting dressed, but I still wonder what he’s planning.

  “As you’re feeling better, it’s time for the grand tour. So, unless you want to ride a horse pantie-less and bra-less, get dressed. Assuming, of course, you can ride?” The cocky tone I’m starting to become familiar with is evident and amusing. I bite my bottom lip to stop the smirk his cocky attitude threatens to steal from me.

  “I can ride. Have a little faith, you’re insulting me here!” I mock outrage. Little does he know that I’m a pretty good rider…and little does he know that ninety-nine percent of the time I’m bra-less – I just prefer it that way, it feels nicer and less restrictive. Having my boobs jiggle around while on horseback isn’t going to phase me…it might be a little distracting for him though, given the way his gaze frequently drops to my chest. Normally that would piss me off but something about Asher’s perusal of my body has my blood fizzing in my veins.

 
I run upstairs and quickly dress in jeans and a shirt that I tie around my belly button, exposing a band of skin around my abdomen and lower back. After rolling the sleeves up to my elbows, I tie my hair up in a loose ponytail and finish my look with a quick swipe of light pink lip gloss. Practical with just a hint of sex appeal and with Asher’s words about being bra-less and panty-less ringing in my head, I leave my room without either undergarment.

  There’s something freeing and exhilarating about going commando.

  Asher is waiting for me by the back-porch door, “I’m impressed, I was expecting you to take at least twice as long to get ready.”

  “Does this look like a time-consuming look?” I arch a brow at him, daring him to dig himself deeper into the women-take-forever-to-get-ready pit. I’m a feminist at heart and I believe that it takes a person as long as it takes them to get ready. So, if I feel the need to spend an hour on hair and make-up for a special occasion then fuck it, I will. It’s my body after all and I’m the one living in it.

  “Hey, I have no idea what it takes to make yourself look as good as you do – I was merely impressed that you could look that appealing that quickly.” And there’s that smile of his again. You know, that one that melts panties…good thing I’m not wearing any.

  “Your eye-fucking at breakfast would suggest I look appealing even when I’ve made zero effort and am sporting a serious case of bed head.” The flirty little smile I flash him is almost unconsciously done…almost.

  Driving him a little bit wild is my new favorite game.

  His expression is unapologetic, dark, hungry and well, dangerous to my health.

  “So, can you really ride, or you just sayin’ that to save face? It’s perfectly fine if you need to ride with me, Sunshine.” Oh, that wicked grin.

  “You’re more than a little arrogant, you know that right?”

  “You love it.” True, I was starting to. His confidence and cockiness were infectious. Today is going to be a good day.