Chapter 2
Colt
Isit back before nodding at my twin from across the table.
“You ready?”
Cason shrugs his broad shoulders before taking a sip of beer.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Who gives a fuck anyways? We can come anytime we like, and you know how the Starlight Saloon is. The girls are always fresh, curvy, and entirely fuckable. Emphasis on the last part.”
I chuckle because my twin and I are foul motherfuckers, but we don’t give a shit.
After all, we’re the co-owners of the Double C Ranch about an hour’s drive away, and as rich as fuck.
We run cattle, but that shit isn’t the basis of our fortune.
Hell, the cattle business barely even breaks even most years.
No, we’ve been amassing bitcoin for more than a decade now, and it’s crypto that’s made us kings.
But no one knows the true source of our wealth because we don’t exactly kiss and tell.
Instead, my bro and I keep to ourselves, although of course, we partake in the good stuff.
There are helicopters at the Double C, as well as a fleet of trucks, a raft of luxury cars, and a monstrously large residence that we fondly call the “Big House.” Trust me, this is no Laura Ingalls Wilder-type log cabin.
Instead, it’s a massive glass house set into the side of the mountain, with floor to ceiling views of the breathtaking Montana vistas from almost every direction.
Said “Big House” is equipped with every luxury a man could want: a private gym, private pool, sauna, steam room, as well as a plush movie theater, all-purpose rec center, and ten bedrooms with attached en suites.
Basically, Cason and I could adopt an entire orphanage of children and bring them to live with us, although we obviously won’t do that.
Bachelorhood is our thing, and there’s no reason to change.
Simply put, our wealth makes it easy to attract women.
The ladies we meet have a taste for luxury, and can smell money like bloodhounds.
As a result, they attach themselves to us like leeches.
Literally, blood red nails will circle our biceps while big, false lashes flutter flirtatiously.
Their mouths part into glossy smiles, and sometimes, I literally see the women sizing up our possessions when we show them around the Big House, like an appraiser tallying the value of a home’s contents.
It’s disgusting, but we like to get laid, so we put up with it.
But a man can only take so much gold-digging, so Cason and I get away from the money-hungry whores by coming to the Starlight Saloon to enjoy ourselves on occasion.
Maybe the women here are money-hungry as well, but they’re transparent about it.
The ladies are being paid to dance by the Sweet Lies group, and they expect to be showered with bills while they’re on stage.
It’s fine. It’s part of the job, and we’ve got cash in our wallets to make it rain.
Plus, tonight’s a special night. Cason and I are here for a Blue Light Special, which is an event that happens about once a month, and all the men in the saloon are hungry and ready for the show to begin.
There’s a charge of testosterone in the air, and when I look around, I see quite a few cowboys adjusting their crotches at the small tables scattered around an empty stage.
Yes, the Blue Light Special is one you don’t want to miss, and Case and I are getting antsy waiting for it to begin.
“Yo, you think they’ll have some sexy girls tonight?” my twin asks. I shrug while nodding a greeting at Lance Larson across the way. That motherfucker ripped me off in our last horse trade, and I’m going to tear him a new one as soon as I get a chance.
“The girls are always sexy,” I rumble. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
My twin nods, his features shadowed in the dim lighting.
“Yeah, Sweet Lies does a good job,” he rasps. “But where the fuck do these ladies come from? They sure aren’t from out here.”
I nod in agreement, my blue eyes fixed on the as-of-yet empty spotlight on stage.
“Yeah, ladies who work outdoors aren’t the best looking.
Being in the sun sixteen hours a day doesn’t do wonders for the skin, and rustling cattle is hard labor.
I guess they import them from other parts.
Who knows? That’s why we pay the group the big bucks.
Sweet Lies does the sourcing, and we get to enjoy the spoils. ”
My brother is about to say something else when a jazzy introduction begins to play over the speakers.
Sure enough, an MC leaps onto the stage, and the guy is dressed like he’s at the Grand Ole Opry in a bedazzled white suit complete with a matching white ten gallon hat.
His face is ruddy, and despite the fact that he just got up under the spotlights, he’s already sweating profusely.
“Welcome, gentlemen!” he crows into the microphone. “Are you ready for some fun at the Starlight Saloon? As you know, we always provide the best entertainment, and if you haven’t already ordered a drink, Sabrina will be coming around to take your orders now.”
A sinuous shape appears in the darkness across the way, and I know it’s the local barmaid, who’s one of the better-looking ladies around the region.
She’s dressed in the Starlight Saloon’s customary blue bikini top with a matching miniskirt and cowboy boots, but that’s just the beginning.
We’re expecting everything to come off soon enough, and that includes Sabrina.
“So what brings you here?” the MC blusters cheerily into the mic.
“I’m Larry McWells, your host for the evening and can I just say that we have a good-looking crowd here?
” he asks, shading his eyes against the spotlight while pretend-peering into the darkness.
“You sumbitches are some handsome cowboys.”
I scowl because who cares what the audience looks like? I want to meet the women, and it seems I’m not the only one because fucking Lance Larson literally screams out, “Get on with the show, asshole! We’re not here for your pitter-patter.”
Larson is rude, but he’s hit the nail on the head. Fortunately, the MC doesn’t take offense and merely chuckles while hitching up his pants a bit.
“Well, if you gents are comfortable, then I’m game,” he chortles while nodding to someone in the back.
“Tonight, you’re in for a special treat because as you know, we’re here for the Starlight Special.
Management has put together some real sexy ladies for your entertainment, and I know you’re going to love it,” he winks.
This time, Lance Larson literally leaps up from his seat and screams at the MC, his eyes bulging from his head.
“We want girls!” he shouts, foaming at the mouth now. “Cut the bullcrap and bring the ladies out!”
This time, management listens. The doors in back swing shut with an ominous thud, and the air crackles with tension.
I can almost feel the testosterone swirling as a blue light flashes on in the corner, signaling the okay.
Meanwhile, the MC listens intently to a message in his earpiece before smiling beatifically.
“Management says we’re good to go, so I won’t keep you gents waiting any longer.
Hit the music, Herb, because our first dancer is the beautiful Eloise from none other than New York City!
Have you ever heard of the storybook character Eloise, who lives at the Plaza Hotel?
Well, our Eloise doesn’t live in a fancy hotel, but she certainly is a spoiled little girl all the same! ”
At that moment, a young woman prances onto the stage, and her schtick is immediately obvious.
She’s blonde, willowy, and thin, and dressed in a schoolgirl outfit complete with a tight white button-down shirt, a micro-mini pleated skirt, and white knee-high socks hugging her shapely gams. She’s got on saucy high-heeled Mary Janes that glint under the stage lights, and the young woman smiles flirtatiously out at the crowd while swinging a lunch box in one hand.
“Hmmph,” my brother grunts, crossing his arms over his broad chest, those blue eyes fixed on the young woman.
She’s saucy, with golden hair streaming down her back and a big bow affixed to the back of her head, but I know what my brother’s thinking.
Thin and bony isn’t our type. We like our girls with heft and goodness, and appreciate a woman who eats.
Unfortunately, A-cups with barely-there hips aren’t our thing, and Eloise isn’t going to cut it.
But Lance Larson is already going crazy.
The man’s hand is moving beneath the table in a rhythmic fashion while Eloise shimmies on stage, bending over a bit to flash her white panties.
Yes, the girl’s got panties on, but as we watch, she reaches in back of herself and moves the material to the side before strapping it over one big butt cheek.
Her pussy’s on display now, moist and pink, and goddamn but it’s beautiful.
I’ve always had a thing for female pussy and this is no exception.
Eloise smiles beatifically, but Lance isn’t having it.
“Take it off!” he screams from his seat. “You’re taking too long! Take it all off!”
I look around because this asshole is a goddamn twerp.
He’s being fucking disruptive and I have half a mind to go over and sucker punch said fool, but then I see his dick hanging out of his pants and pity strikes.
The idiot is about five inches long when aroused, and frankly, that thing looks like a pink eraser.
Some dudes have serious insecurity issues, and clearly, Lance Larson is one of them.