Anonymous - Spouse Swap

Bruce helped Trish to a standing position and treated her to a playful slap. "Tricky little piece of baggage this morning, aren't we?" His voice turned gruff. "You know damn well that making it with wind-up dolls is Gabe Penner's bag, not mine. You also know damn well that I've never had strength enough left to go to Stella Roller's after you finished using your cunt, mouth and asshole on this poor prick of mine."

"Ha!" Trish snorted, her eyes probing the depths of his as she continued to give him the needle. "You'd fuck a rock pile if you thought there was a snake under it." She gave him a twisted smile, held up her hand for silence. "Don't bother to deny it. And don't bother to deny that you've been seen entering and leaving Stella Roller's cat-house on more than one occasion since I moved in with you, either."

There were times when Bruce didn't understand Trish. His expression told her that this was one of those times.

He said defensively, "I went there on business." A cruel smile split her lips. "Sure, monkey business, I bet."

Bruce flushed, shook his head. "Making it with a bunch of mechanical moneymakers isn't my idea of a good time, little wanton."

She eyed him speculatively. "Then why do you keep going there?"

"To see Stella. She's an old friend of mine, remember?" He chuckled suddenly. "Hell, there's no need for you to be jealous of her; you're the only bedroom beauty in this man's life."

Trish lost interest in jabbing Bruce with her tongue and shifted the subject. "Speaking of bedrooms, I'd better roust Mrs. Singing Rabbit's fat ass out of her sister's place and get her back here to help me make one ready for Elke Lockridge."

Bruce placed a hand on her right breast and gave it a gentle pat. "You do that, hot stuff. You'll find Jenny Lone Arrow's number in the phone book." He glanced at the ceramic, guitar-shaped wall clock, then gave her jutting nipple a firm tweak between thumb and forefinger and stood up. A labored sigh hissed out of his throat. "As for yours truly, I'd better get my own rear in gear and head for Lone Pine."

Trish took a look of her own at the cheap wall timepiece she considered a carnival giveaway, then frowned at the clown who owned it. "What's with the early trip to town, lover? Is something important shaking there that I know nothing about?"

Bruce shook his head and proceeded to gather his scattered clothing. "You know better than that, sweet lips. Nothing important ever happens in Lone Pine. In Boise, Twin Falls, Pocatello, maybe even Weiser, but never in Lone Pine. Hell, I wouldn't be going in at all if I hadn't made a half-assed date to have lunch with someone today."

She watched him closely. "Stella Roller?"

He grinned. "Yep."

She wrinkled her nose. "I thought so."

"Jealous?"

"A whole heap," she lied.

He slipped his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. His voice licked at her. "Don't be. Stella I like; you I love."

Love? Christ!

"You're sweet." A faint trace of disgust crawled over her face. She was suddenly impatient for him to hit the road, but she took the time to ask, "Will you be making a day of it?"

He thought it over. "Might as well. There's no sense in coming home, then driving back to pick up Elke."

"That's true," Trish agreed solemnly. Then her voice turned teasing as she added maliciously, "It's going to be a long day for you, but I'm sure Stella Roller will shoot her best lick to keep you from dying of boredom."

Bruce stared at her, a puzzled expression in his eyes. "You've got a dirty mind, wanton. All I'm going to do is have lunch with her."

"Ha! Knowing you for the sixty-niner you really are, you'll probably force that blonde bitch to eat your cock while you gobble her snatch."

He leered at her. "What makes you think I'll have to use force on Stella?"

She grimaced. "Ouch!"

Bruce chuckled like a partially clogged drain and left the room. Ten minutes later he reappeared fully dressed, freshly shaven and smelling like a successful Broadway pimp she had once toiled for. She steered him toward the front door and said, "I'm almost out of booze, lover. Pick up a case of my favorite champagne at the Atomic will you?"

Bruce nodded. "Anything else I can do for you while I'm in town?"

"There is." She patted his crotch. "Try to keep this juicy cock of yours out of strange holes until you come back to me, huh?"

"I've got a better idea," Bruce said as "he made a sudden grab for her heaving breasts. "Why don't I forget about having lunch with Stella and stay here to do my thing with your hole?"

Trish forced a laugh and brushed his hands aside. "Not now. Much as I'd enjoy having my pussy massaged, there isn't time. I've got a million things to do before our guest arrives tonight." She opened the door. "Go!"

Bruce went. Reluctantly.

Trish slammed the door and leaned against it for a few seconds, breasts rising and falling in rhythm to the anger that rode her. Anger at herself. Touching Bruce's prick had been a mistake. A near-disaster. He had damned near changed his mind about going into town, and she had damned near lost those valuable hours his absences always gave her to do some treasure hunting in Lonesome Valley.

She crossed over to the window and watched Bruce take off down the lane in his dust-covered Mazda. Then she started to go upstairs to get dressed. She never made it. She was near the landing when she glanced toward the window and saw Gabe Penner's battered pickup appear in the lane. She slipped into her robe and met him at the door with ah icy smile. "About goddamn time you decided to get your ass back to this stinking ranch." She studied him intently. "Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to check in last night."

Gabe heeled the door shut behind him and attempted to take her in his arms. Trish backed away. He stopped smiling and scowled at her. He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was husky with anger. "I must be in the wrong pad. The pussy who usually greets me at the door does it with her lips, not her claws." His eyes probed. "What's bugging your pretty ass, puss? My being a few hours overdue? Couldn't be helped. Something came up."

Her lips curved in a smirk. "The only thing that comes up for you is that mule-dick of yours."

Gabe shook his head and gave a short, bitter laugh. "Not this time, babe."

"Then why so late getting back."

His voice sagged. "I was busy."

She snorted. "Doing what? Fucking every girl at Stella Roller's cathouse?"

A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "If you must know, I was playing bird-dog."

A bewildered look came over her face. "Bird-dog?"

"Yeah, puss, bird-dog. There was an FBI man in town, asking a lot of questions about the Mustang Airlines job." He saw her pale, and now mockery edged his voice. "Don't pop an ovary, partner. He was just working his way down a list of towns where they think the skyjackers might be holed up."

"How come it took him so long to get here? Christ, it's been almost two months since we pulled that caper."

"You know them-or you should. They take their time with rough cases."

"But they always come up with the right answers."

Gabe smiled mirthlessly. "Not this time, puss. The prick I followed all over Lone Pine drew a blank. How could he do otherwise? Hell, the only person who could finger us for the job is at the bottom of that stinking well in Lonesome Valley. Like I said before, don't worry."

"Take your suggestion and shove it up your ass," Trish said angrily. "Tell me more."

"What's to tell? The prick asked his questions, received no answers and that's it. He was getting ready to leave for Timber City when I finally gave up on the bastard."

"He left Lone Pine?"