43. Bull

43

Bull

I felt bad that we only rode the wheel once, because she’d so obviously enjoyed it. She probably would have happily ridden it all day if it hadn’t been for me, but one more look at those tiny little cows down on the ground and—well, I got my limits. For her birthday, I’m going to have to get her a parachute jump.

Not far from the Ferris wheel there was one of those vintage photo booths where you get dressed up in old-fashioned clothes and get a photo taken of you. I still didn’t have a photo of Lily and I figured it’d be a good opportunity. Besides, the place probably had corsets and the idea of Lily’s curves, spilling out of a corset...oh, sweet Lord. I towed Lily over there.

“A photo?” she said immediately. “I don’t really like photos.”

I frowned at her. “Why not?”

She shrugged as if embarrassed. “I don’t like people looking at me.”

I wasn’t totally sure I bought it. She sometimes seemed a little shy about her body, but.... “No one’s going to see it except us.”

She looked so nervous about it, I nearly abandoned the whole idea. But then one of the dresses they had on display caught her eye—a scarlet thing, all silk and ribbons. I could feel my cock rise just at the thought of her in it. “No one?” she asked tentatively, fingering the fabric.

“No one. Look, it’s authentic, old-fashioned - you get a printed photo. It can go on the wall at my place.” To be fair, there was an option to get a copy emailed to you as well, but we didn’t have to do that.

She stared at the dress for a moment, then at me. “Okay,” she said at last.

Twenty bucks and thirty seconds later, we were “backstage” in the booth, looking at costumes. I took off my hat and set about choosing a new one.

Lily stood in front of a full-length mirror and held up the dress she’d seen outside. “You think this is too much?” she asked, fingering the bodice.

“ NO!” I said, more firmly than I’d intended. She looked up at me, startled, and I almost blushed. I was just so damn eager to see her in it.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s kind of...I always thought of myself as more of a schoolmarm, you know? This is more saloon girl.”

I sidled up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “Lily, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re definitely a saloon girl.” She slapped me playfully. “Oh, come on! Who wants to be a schoolmarm?”

“Schoolmarms are the ones who wind up married,” she said distantly, holding a long black skirt up in front of her. “Saloon girls are the ones who wind up murdered in some outlaw’s hotel room.”

“You looking to get married?” It was out before I realized I’d said it.

Her cheeks flared red. “No! No, of course not. God, are you kidding? People like us don’t get married.”

I kissed her neck, then drew back enough that I could see her face in the mirror. “ People like us meaning you and me, or people like us meaning you and me, together?”

We just stared at each other in the mirror for a few seconds, the air growing heavier and heavier around us.

Then she took the scarlet dress and raced off into the tiny changing area before I could stop her.

“You realize I’ve already seen everything you’ve got?” I called.

From behind the curtain, rustling fabric. “Even saloon girls have to preserve some mystery.”

I looked for something for myself. I settled on fancy pants and a dark shirt, with a silver belt buckle and a badge. A sheriff’s outfit. After much debate, I picked out a suitable hat.

Lily emerged from behind the curtain and I forgot how to breathe.

The scarlet dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining the full curves of her breasts and the swell of her hips and ass. The bodice, still partially unlaced, displayed her pale breasts nearly down to the pink of the areolae.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said honestly. “I’m just wondering if I can sneak you out of here and off to my place in that dress.”

She gave me a look and then turned around. The sight of her partially-naked back, from her lower spine up to her shoulders, was more erotic than seeing Kirsten and her friends stark naked. How is that possible? Goddamnit, this woman works some magic on me.

“I need you to fasten me up,” she said.

I stepped forward. My hands were shaking like a teenager at the high school dance, about to fumble for his first bra strap. It didn’t matter that we’d already done the deed twice. This girl had me harder than a tree branch every damn time I looked at her.

I hauled on the laces of the bodice, which cinched her in at the waist and did fascinating things to her breasts. Her already hourglass figure became the stuff of wild fantasy.

I stopped cinching while she could still breathe and tied the bow, then gently turned her around. Her pale breasts had been pushed up and together and the effect was…

“Seriously,” I growled, licking my lips. “What are the chances of us sneaking you out of here in that thing?”

She tossed her hair. “Sir,” she drawled. “Unless you got five dollars or a good bottle o’ suppin’ whiskey, I’m afraid you’ll be lonesome tonight.” She looked at my outfit and blinked. “That’s it?” she asked in her normal voice. “I get my ribcage crushed and you just have to put on a shirt and pants? I was expecting chaps, at least.”

“It needs the hat,” I said, and made a show of putting on my chosen hat.

She just stared at me, unimpressed.

“It’s white,” I explained. “Because I’m the sheriff.” She still looked blank. “My normal one’s black. This makes me a good guy.” I knitted my fingers with hers. “Come to save the fallen woman from her life of ill repute.”

She stared at me strangely for a long time. “It suits you,” she said at last.

We strolled outside and had to wait our turn while another couple had their photo taken.

“So you’re the sheriff,” she mused. “And you’ve married me.”

“Arrested you,” I corrected. I ran a finger under her chin. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Arrested me then married me,” she countered.

I thought about it and nodded. Meanwhile, Lily seemed to be slipping off into her own little world. “And now we live in a little house just outside town, by a river…”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve really thought about this.”

She reddened and coughed. “No. Hey, we should think up names.”

“Names?”

“You know. For…” she indicated her outfits. “Us.”

“Lily’s a pretty good name for a saloon girl, you ask me.”

Her eyes got that faraway look again. “Mary. I like Mary.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good, solid, country name. Mary.” I looked down at myself. “I could be Cletus.”

Lily let out a snort. “ Cletus? Oh, come on. Who’s called Cletus?”

I blinked at her, then lowered my eyes.

She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. Your real name is Cletus, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said, looking off into the distance .

“Oh God, it is, isn’t it? I’m so stupid. Cletus . There’s nothing wrong with Cletus. I like Cletus.”

I just stood there stoically.

“Bull—Cletus. I’m really sorry.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I erupted into laughter, doubling over.

“Oh, you bastard!” She looked around for something to hit me with. “You... Argh!”

I pulled her close and hugged her, still quaking with laughter. “Your face ,” I told her. “I wish I could have kept it going. You were so damn guilt-ridden. You would have agreed to anything, in bed tonight.”

Lily drew back and stared at me, shocked. Then she gave me a tiny smirk and muttered, “Not anything.”

God, I loved this girl.

We took our turn in front of the camera and for a while we couldn’t keep a straight face. But at last, we found a pose that worked: me standing behind her with my hands around her waist. I looked solemnly into the camera, the sheriff who’s caught his quarry, and Lily gazed into the lens with a sort of pride. As if being caught was exactly what she’d wanted.

We waited while the guy printed out the photo. He seemed surprised when we turned down the offer of an emailed copy—he said we were a real sweet couple. But Lily insisted. I pocketed the printed copy and told her I’d get it framed.

“So what is your real name?” she asked, when we were back in our street clothes.

“Bull is my real name.”

“No, but really.”

I just looked at her. Eventually, she shook her head. “I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she said.