Jan Springer - The Pleasure Girl

He swept her soul away, stripped her emotions bare with his driving strokes, and when it was finally over, the spasms in her vagina ebbed away as they held onto each other. She listened to his heavy breathing, committed the sound to her memory, knowing she wanted to keep all the intimate details of him in her mind so she could unbury them after he was gone. Unbury them during the long, cold nights she spent alone.

“I’m going out to the barn to get some food,” he said as he finally pulled out of her. She watched him tie off the condom and toss it into the wastebasket she kept in her kitchen.

“Get dressed. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he ordered.

She made a move to bend over and retrieve the negligee, but he stopped her.

“There is another package in there.” He nodded to a saddlebag slung over the back seat of another chair.

“Put what’s in there on. Leave the robe off.”

She nodded and numbly watched him stroll to the side door, where he slid his big bare feet into his boots. Grabbing a sweater he’d left on the hook, he swept it over his glistening tanned body and then donned his leather jacket.

Without a backward glance, he opened the door and then the screen door. Stepping outside, he shut the door behind him. The sound of it felt like a door closing on her heart. Sadly, reality rushed in, and bitter tears swept into her eyes.

For a moment, he’d made her feel. Made her remember what it felt like to be loved again.

Dammit! Why had she allowed him to kiss her? To allow him into her heart so easily? She was an object to him. Nothing more. What had she expected him to do, anyway? Look back at her and say “See you later, my love?” Or, “I’ll miss you while I’m gone?”

God, she was so pathetic. Why was she reacting so emotionally? What in the world had she gotten into with this guy?

Stepping onto the porch, Logan moved quickly, avoiding the miniscule buttery glow of lamplight splashing from the kitchen windows. Settling in the shadows, he waited several minutes, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Skimming the dark prairie horizon, he checked for any kind of movement and saw nothing. No one but he and that lady doctor knew he was here. His partners would find out tonight or in the morning when they visited her, and he’d instructed her to send them over tomorrow.

The doctor had been recommended by others in the gang he rode with. They said she was a woman known for treating injuries and not asking questions. Obviously, she took her Hippocratic Oath seriously and treated everyone the same. They said she was trustworthy.

Despite their reassurances, he couldn’t shed the wariness of the hunted. He’d lived this way for a couple of years now, and his instincts of being careful and alert had kept him alive. After meeting her his instincts also confirmed that Dr. Liz could be trusted. Nonetheless, it didn’t hurt to be careful. He’d just stay here in the shadows for a couple more minutes, keeping an eye out.

He’d be lying if he denied he’d been turned on when the woman doctor touched his balls and cock while examining him. According to the other members of the gang, anyone in this area who wished to purchase a clean pleasure girl for the evening went through Dr. Elizabeth Brandywine. Getting a clean bill of health had been worth it because she’d sent him here to Teyla. He was damned glad, too, that when Spencer, Cassidy, and he picked straws, he’d been the one who’d picked the short straw between the three of them, allowing him to check out the prostitute first.

Whenever the gang did a job and broke up for safety reasons, he rode with his two friends. The three of them enjoyed sharing a woman. They also took turns in going to one first. The other two would take baths in a nearby town and get drunk. Celebrate the success of their latest job. Spend some of the stolen money. He was glad they’d screwed Baron again. Screwed him in his big fat pocketbook, right where it hurt him the most.

Logan smiled as the sweet feeling of satisfaction purred through him at the thought of Moneybags Baron, as they liked to call the rich, pudgy man, getting word that the Durango gang had taken out his train payload. Again. Despite outrunning the posse that had been on their tail for over a week, they’d split the Durango gang into three groups. His trio had come across the state line into Canada and had managed to give the posse the slip a couple of nights ago when they hit the Bow River. The success of the job had been cause for celebration, and he’d get drunk, but first he wanted Teyla again. Yeah, he’d really enjoy taking her both times. Her cream was hot and delicious as it flowed into his mouth. Her scent sensual and arousing. Man, and the hot way she moaned when he fucked her, well, she just made him crave her badly. So bad that he wanted to take her into his arms every time he was near her.

A sudden urge to hurry out to the barn and get the grub prompted him to shift his ass into gear. Withdrawing his gun from where he’d left it in his leather jacket pocket, he quickly crossed the yard toward the barn. He wasn’t expecting any trouble as he’d done a good job covering his tracks from the doc’s place. But he always liked to keep a gun handy, just in case.

As he neared the barn, the urge hit him to go around back to the greenhouse where she’d been working all day. There was a nip of frost in the air, and he wondered how her plants fared in this daily cold environment, compliments of the Catastrophe, but then he stopped himself short. Her greenhouse and her plants were no concern of his. She was a pleasure girl. A woman to be used for his pleasure and then he’d ride out and never look back. Just like he’d done with the other ladies of the evening he’d been with. But this time, the idea of simply riding out and leaving this woman behind didn’t sit well with him. Cursing himself, he bypassed the barn and headed for that greenhouse.

Teyla was trembling as she placed the chopped carrots and cubed potatoes into the boiling water sitting on her solar-operated stove. Compliments of the solar panels on the roof of her farmhouse, she’d been able to have access to hot water, a stove, and a bath, simply by switching over batteries when one was drained. It had been her husband’s idea when they’d first moved in, several years before the Catastrophe struck. Being in such a rural place with frequent violent snowstorms in the winter and thunderstorms in the summer, the backup solar energy when the electricity went out came in handy. Neither of them had anticipated exactly how good that idea would be until the electrical grids across the entire world fried during those solar flares. Last she’d heard, it would take years before her farm would be hooked to the grid again.

Until then, she could only hope the solar parts she had on hand wouldn’t break on her. Solar parts were very expensive on the markets. Any type of light creation such as candles, matches, oil lamps, gas lamps or any heat creation items such as wood stoves and pellet stoves could cost an arm and a leg. Thankfully, she had a cast-iron wood-burning stove in the kitchen as well as fireplaces in each of the bedrooms of her century-old farmhouse. Speaking of fireplaces and wood stoves, she’d tossed even more wood onto the fire crackling in their bedroom, no, correct that, her bedroom, as well as shoving more wood into the cast-iron stove, so it was nice and toasty in here.

She’d also checked his saddlebag, the one he’d slung over the back of the chair, and had been surprised at the arrangement of knives, guns, and ammo he kept in there. Way too much for somebody just passing through. But it was none of her business, she told herself, reminding herself that Dr. Liz had sent him, so he would be fine.