Mindy 3
Okay, so not only did I get the job I wanted, but I had sex with the lead singer from Bad Crush. I would say that was excellent work for one afternoon.
I left soon after Dion fell asleep… after the second go ’round, which was way over-the-top hot. I wanted to hang around to meet Arlo and Jackson, but my lady parts were a little sore after all that sex, and my sweet ass needed a long, hot soak in my tub. A girl could only take so much loving on her lady parts before she needed to hit the brakes… and this girl needed a break in the worst way. Not only did Dion have a mouth I couldn’t seem to get enough of, but his dick was much more than I’d ever had. I actually never saw a dick that thick and that wide before… at least not up close and personal. Sure, that size was rampant on the porn sites, but in real life… not so much. At least not with the guys I’d been with.
Okay, maybe I hadn’t been with that many guys, but from my limited experience, none of them compared. Fortunately, I couldn’t see his massive manhood before he rammed it inside me. I’d only felt it with my hand, and it didn’t seem like anything I couldn’t handle.
But my hand was a lot different from my privates, especially these privates that hadn’t loved on a dick in almost an entire year.
That was the reason he felt so big? I didn’t know the answer, but whatever the reason, I think I liked it way too much… the entire experience, not just his massive dick. Would I be able to go back to a normal-sized cock? I wondered what other women did who encountered this conundrum.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way my mind swirled with body part issues. Like they mattered more than the man who owned said body part.
In truth, the combination was enough to keep me thinking about him for a very long time, especially since this afternoon made up for my long drought, and I still wanted oh so much more. The man had the magic touch and a super-charged tongue that sent me reeling towards the stars. No way was I ready to give that up anytime soon. I only hoped he felt the same way.
My apartment in Cricket had everything I liked: bare red-brick walls, windows that looked out over the River Walk and the slow-moving river, centrally located with plenty of free parking, and it had the best bathtub I’d ever soaked in. It was right out of an Old West movie, claw feet and all. I could soak in that thing for hours.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have hours.
I hadn’t even had dinner, not really. A savory pocket from Sweetie Pies didn’t actually constitute a full-on dinner, but it was all I had time for before I went off to give more dance lessons at Last Call, my regular dance-lesson gig.
I soaked for about a half hour, toweled off, then rubbed myself down with the yoni oil I’d bought online about a month ago, pineapple scented. I only used it when I wanted to rub myself off, but tonight, I needed it to soothe my sore lady parts.
Of course, once I started touching myself, I thought of my afternoon with Dion, and well… I couldn’t help it. One rub led to another, and I was soon rocking out yet another orgasm while lying in the middle of my soft and comfy bed.
“Get a fucking grip,” I told myself once I experienced my fifth or was it my sixth orgasm for the day. It just proved my theory. Once you had great sex after a drought, you suddenly couldn’t get enough… and I was the poster girl for that statement.
And even though I was sore from all that slapping, licking, clit nipping, and fucking, just touching myself again turned me on so bad, I had no choice but to get off one more time.
Once I returned to reality and regained some semblance of normalcy, I got dressed in my usual dance instructor attire: stretch jeans, a western blouse, my black one today with the embroidered red flowers around the collar and along the buttons, my highest black boots, a thick belt with the rodeo buckle some dude in Cheyenne gave me as a tip about two years ago, and a black cowgirl hat that fit me perfectly.
As usual, I more than looked the part, a trick I’d learned a long time ago. Give the folks what they expect, then elevate it to be almost over the top, and they won’t be able to say no to you. My shirt and boots gave my outfit that extra flair that made me stand out, and I was all about being the flashy red pickup truck in a sea of black and white sedans.
Last Call, the down-home type of bar where I worked, was less than two blocks away, so I never thought of driving my car. A good thing, considering I intended to get a little wasted tonight after work to celebrate all that I’d accomplished today. My new job being first on my list. The bed-fun with the sexiest singer in country music today was merely a bonus feature… but what a bonus.
As soon as I opened the door to Last Call, I felt right at home. I loved working here. Loved the customers, my co-workers, and I especially loved the owners. There were four of them: Don Ortega, who was in charge of ordering all the tequila for the incredible selection Last Call maintained; Jazz Nibley, who loved jazz as much as he loved Emma Holt, also an owner; and Nico Grassi, who paid all of us and more or less ran things. Emma was a dark-haired beauty, with a badass disposition who didn’t take any prisoners. All the guys were delicious to look at, with bodies that made anyone drool, and smiles that lit up the place.
As far as the bar went, it might not be as big or as country as Dirty Coyote, but it held its own when it came to having a fun night. One thing I really liked were the pool tables where the locals liked to hang out, and the beer garden on the second floor served some of the best home brew I’d ever tasted.
All that aside, what really made my bells ring was the fact that these amazing people had a successful, dedicated polyamorous relationship that rivaled any single couple’s relationship I’d ever known. I didn’t know how they did it or how Emma could even begin to deal with three distinctively different guys, but somehow, she did… and somehow, it all worked like a gift from another universe.
At some point in my future, I wanted one man to call my own. I had no idea what it would be like to have three… but one thing was for sure, if Dion wanted to add Arlo and Jackson to the playlist, I wouldn’t say no to the no-strings fun.
FOR THE NEXT few days, most of my brain power was spent on reliving sex with Dion. I’d tried my best to add him to my list of no-commitment sex partners, but there had been something about him. The way we touched, the way we laughed so easily, and well… so many other little things, that I couldn’t seem to let the memories go. They were as vivid after a week as they were that first night as I soaked in my claw-footed tub.
I spent those first few evenings at Last Call giving dance instructions, but my heart wasn’t really into it. All I could think of was dancing with Dion and how easily we’d melted together on the dance floor. But the most annoying thing happened… I’d become a huge fan of the Bee Gees, go figure. I listened to their music from the time I awoke in the morning, all during the day, and even after my shift at Last Call. Then there was Bad Crush’s music. I couldn’t seem to get enough of that either.
There was one song in particular that stuck with me, Lovin’ On You that I played over and over. Of course, Dion sang most of it on his own. His voice clear, deep, and true. I loved how he sounded and how his voice cloaked me in the safety of his embrace every time I heard it.
I hadn’t had many actual boyfriends in my life. Always been too busy trying to get ahead, trying to save some money. I never went to college. Never did well enough in high school to think about furthering my education. In truth, I never liked school and couldn’t see the value in continuing my education.
Instead, I learned how to run a business on the job when I managed Knockin’ Boots. I landed that position purely by accident. The owner knew my mom and just needed someone to run the place while she went on vacation for a couple of weeks. I’d done such a good job, she kept me on as an assistant for a while, eventually making me manager while she opened her second dance hall in the next town. It had all worked out great, until Mom got sick, and I had to take care of her for a few months.
After that, I lost my bearings. But I was back in business now, and this time, nothing would get in my way. I knew what I wanted, and I knew how to get it.
Plus, now that I was in my late twenties, I had a different perspective on school. I should have listened to my mom who kept telling me to do better, instead of fighting her all the time. Still, I knew I couldn’t do anything about the past, but I could do a lot about my present and my future.
I’d taken a couple of business courses online just to refresh my knowledge. Plus, I took the time to learn every damn line and country dance that was worth anything. Also, I found that I was a natural dance teacher, and my students loved me, and vice versa.
Because of all of that, I had to stay focused, stay solid with my goal. I didn’t ever want to find myself in need of money again. Running my own business was my calling, and teaching dance was something I could do without two or four more years of formal education that I not only couldn’t afford, but I also didn’t have the appetite for formal education.
When it came right down to it, all I really wanted to do was open my own dance studio in either Cricket or Sweet Whiskey. I didn’t want to work for anyone. I wanted to be my own boss. That was the goal anyway, and I wasn’t about to let sex get in the way of that… but damn, this would be harder now that I’d met Dion. The gorgeous hunk swept me off my feet… literally, and it would take every ounce of grit I had to keep sex with him as unemotional as possible.
That was the plan, anyway.
Dion and I only had two actual communications since I left him in bed after our mind-blowing, lust-filled encounter. The first text, he wanted to know if he’d scared me away or would I be giving him another dance lesson, which I assured him I would on Thursday afternoon. And the second text was to tell me how much he was looking forward to that… lesson.
I couldn’t resist telling him that I was looking forward to it as well.
In the meantime, I’d driven over to Sweet Whiskey to attend a funeral for a patron I’d come to admire. She was a plucky older woman who had turned into a kind of role model for me. She simply blew all my concepts of what an older woman should act like right out of the water. I’d cried along with several other coworkers when we heard she’d died. I didn’t know all the details, but whatever they were, I knew in my heart, she didn’t go quietly into that cold, hard night.
Not her. She was too plucky for a quiet exit.
Nevertheless, before I headed over to all that sadness, I decided to check out the town once again, just to make sure I wanted to split my time between Cricket and Sweet Whiskey. As I drove down its main business street, I knew this place was pure cowboy from the gear and tack shops to most of the clothing and shoe stores… all focused on that warm western spirit, with a little bit of the over-the-top events and colors tossed in for good measure. And just like Cricket, baskets of colored flowers hung from the street lights, while lovely tall trees lined the sidewalks, giving speckled shade to everything they covered.
The shopping section of town wasn’t quite as busy as Cricket, which was always bustling, but I liked the vibe. The townsfolk were a totally different mix. These were down-home type of folks, the local ranchers, cowboys and cowgirls, ranch workers, and small business owners. More my kind of mix rather than Cricket folks who were kind and caring, but they were way into small-town trend. Even the colors of their shops were trendy. Whereas this town was pure rustic cowboy. Hell, there was even a Boot Barn, which at least for me, screamed everything cowboy, and Rosie’s Diner, which looked busy. The more I drove around, the more I knew that despite the ease of Cricket, and my outstanding job at Last Call, Sweet Whiskey was more my style… more my tribe.
A customer at Last Call, who knew about the funeral today, had mentioned something about Sweet Whiskey’s colorful cemetery being an adventure in itself. She wouldn’t give me the details, saying she wouldn’t do it justice, so I was a bit apprehensive about what to expect.
As soon as I drove in, I realized this place was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Most of the tombstones were painted a bright color, and some of them seemed to be crafted out of colored marble or stone. A few even had mosaics going on in brightly colored tiles. Then there were the incredible mausoleums. Not one of them was a drab stone color. They were all painted in some outrageous color, with detailed iron doors. And when I looked a little closer, there were no flowers adorning any of these tombstones or mausoleums… but rather wooden toys or small dolls and even an occasional bust of Elvis or Johnny Cash.
When I finally found my destination, I spotted Tammy Jennings, CindyLou Geller, and Liberty Gallagher, who played a fiddle, from the Austin Sentry Band, belting out a tune in front of a completely decked-out mausoleum, painted in bright blues and pinks, perched on top of a small hill. There were several beer kegs near the front door, and everyone held onto a red plastic cup. By the size of the group of dancing mourners, all dressed in bright clothing amid a sea of cowboy hats and boots, I’d say more than half of the two towns was in attendance. Which explained the lack of folks in the business section of Sweet Whiskey. They were all here, along with many of the familiar faces from Cricket.
I couldn’t help myself. Tears filled my eyes and clouded my vision. I’d never seen anything like this before. The turnout for this woman was incredible. I knew everyone loved her, but I had no idea how many people constituted “everyone.”
It felt as if they were celebrating rather than mourning. And in the scheme of life and death, especially with this woman, a party seemed like the befitting sendoff.
Ironically, as soon as I walked in closer to the cheerful mourners, I realized that Dion was here and had spotted me. He instantly headed my way. And if I wasn’t mistaken, Arlo and Jackson were also there for the dark festivities.
Dion started talking as he walked towards me. There was no need to hush your voice in this crowd. Not with those three women giving their rendition of Red Neck Woman. They sounded positively awe inspiring. “I thought you wouldn’t be back in Sweet Whiskey until tomorrow night. Isn’t that our next lesson? Or do you know the deceased?”
“I do. Scarlett Camarari was a good customer at Last Call. Plus, I gave her several private dance lessons. She was a natural.” I gazed around and still couldn’t believe the turnout for this woman.
“Hell yeah!”Tammy sang out, and everyone joined in, including me. I couldn’t help it. The group inspired me. Plus, as we sang, I saw Connie Manors, from Hot Sugar, walk up and join the women. “Hell yeah!”
“This is an incredible turnout,” I shouted.
“This is Sweet Whiskey! They know how to say goodbye to one of their own… even if she did live in Cricket. The two towns are like sisters. If you live in one, you belong to both.”
“Hell yeah!”I sang, answering his statement with the help of all the other women in the mix. “Did you know Scarlett?”
“Everyone knew Scarlett. She designed our look for our first official concert. She was a character, that’s for sure. She and my grandmother were longtime friends. The older women in these two towns tend to really support each other. I recognize several of them. They taught me that getting older makes you smarter, and in some cases, like Scarlett and my gram, sexier.”
I could tell Dion was upset over her passing, just like I was. We hugged then, and it felt so good to be in his arms again.
When we pulled apart, he said, “C’mon. You need to meet Arlo and Jackson. They can’t wait to meet you. I think you have two more customers if you want them.”
He took my hand then and guided me through the crowd. Someone handed me a beer in a red plastic cup, and I gladly took it. The spring day was unusually hot, so the beer felt cool washing down my parched throat.
I recognized the beer. A Last Call brew and one that Scarlett had always ordered.
“This isn’t what I’d expected, at all,” I told him.
“Yeah, I’d forgotten what funerals were like here. They’re way over the top. We’re going to perform once Tammy and the gang are finished. The whole thing is super sad, though. Her husband is crushed. They were doing it when she had a heart attack.”
“Isn’t that what usually happens to the guy?” I asked, trying not to imagine the unimaginable.
“Yeah, but his heart is fine. Hers wasn’t. She kept that bit of important information from her husband Tony. Still, according to her two best friends, Henri and Beverly, friends of my gram’s, she’d told them she couldn’t live without sex, and she’d have to take her chances.”
“Risky business, that’s for sure,” I said. “But that sounds like Scarlett. Good sex isn’t easy to come by, and if you’ve got it, there’s almost nothing that can take its place. Like a drug or any addiction, you can’t give up.”
“Would you risk your life for sex?” he asked, just before Arlo and Jackson walked up.
Without giving it another thought, I said, “If it’s sex with you, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
The look on his face said it all. “You can’t mean that,” he whispered.
“Every word,” I whispered back, then I gave him a quick tongue kiss, and he knew I meant it. My gut reaction even surprised me.
That was when I felt his hand slide up and down my back, giving me goosebumps and causing my lady parts to dampen my panties once again. Only this time, I’d worn the cotton ones, just in case.
We pulled out of the kiss, just as his bandmates stood in front of us.
“Mindy Miller,” Dion said, breaking in on my sexy thoughts. “This is Arlo Farber and Jackson Martinez, my two best friends and bandmates.”
“Great to meet you,” Arlo said, as I quickly took his hand for a heartfelt handshake. “Dion can’t seem to stop talking about you and how you taught him to dance in one lesson.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but he sure has or rather learned all the right moves fairly quickly.” I stopped talking then and took a breath before I went on. “I have a feeling you boys can learn all the dance steps just as easily. I hear you both want lessons as well.”
Ever since COVID, people were more reluctant to shake hands, at least in some circles. Not so with these down-home folks. We were still into it, and when I met Jackson, he was more into the hugging type of introduction, which was fine by me.
“We do,” Jackson said. “Sally isn’t shy when it comes to speaking her mind, and she’s already told us we have no choice but to dance at her wedding, so we better learn how to do it right.”
“I like her already,” I answered. “She sounds like someone I want to know.”
“We’d like you to join us at the wedding,” Dion said. “As our guest.”
I didn’t know how to answer. It was sweet of him to ask, but as their guest? “Um, I’ll have to check my calendar, but yes, I would love to.”
Where that came from, I didn’t know, but to go anywhere with these three seemed like something I couldn’t refuse.
They were drop-dead gorgeous. Jackson, in particular, had a face that could be on the cover of any fashion rag and had the body to go with it. With his scruffy chin, olive-green eyes, and lips that seemed to beg for a kiss, he made my knees go a little weak just looking at him. And that sandy-colored, longish hair of his made me want to run my hands through it. He also had one of those deep, baritone voices that vibrated through me when he spoke. “Nice to meet you, Mindy. Sorry it’s under these circumstances, though.”
“That’s okay. I don’t think Miss Scarlett would mind,” I told him after we hugged. I had to stand on my toes to even peek over his shoulder and getting my arms around him was impossible. The man had to be at least six-three, with a build that would rival Lee Child’s Reacher, one of my favorite all-time characters.
The last hell yeah was sung, and Dion nodded to the guys. “Our turn,” he told them, and they took off to sing their dedication, which ended up being my favorite Bad Crush song, Lovin’ On You.
As I listened and watched, I couldn’t help the tears rolling down my cheeks. A hush fell over everyone, and I think everyone cried as Dion sang about a love that knew no bounds and would last forever.
And just when sadness overtook us, Connie Manors took over the microphones. She sang about how she used to have this girlfriend known as Scarlett, and how she shared four sorted rooms with her in Cricket… Of course, Connie was adlibbing the lyrics to Cabaret, Scarlett’s favorite movie and song, to make them fit the occasion. Everyone chuckled, including me.
It was exactly what this crowd needed.
Connie was a natural on any stage, even on a somber day like today, while she stood in front of a mausoleum, she knew how to entertain. Her band members and lovers, Rascal, Luke, and Josh walked up next to her, either strumming their guitars or playing the keyboard that had already been set up. And when Connie belted out the chorus about hearing the music play, someone from the crowd of folks blew on a coronet, then two guys joined in on horns, and before I knew what was happening, an entire honky-tonk band popped up to accompany her. The crowd went wild. A true sendoff for an incredible lady I wish I’d gotten to know better.
As I watched all of this take place around me, I knew it would be impossible for me to fight it. I wanted the kind of love that Scarlett had from these folk in these two sister towns. I wanted the kind of love Connie had. Whether it was from one man or three, it didn’t matter, as long as they loved me, and I loved them.
With that kind of love, I knew I could accomplish anything.