CB popped back on his leather Stetson, now that he and Charlotte finished mucking the stables. He tossed his shirt into the stable clothes bin. Some things just weren’t worth taking to the bunk house and Miss Becca rather not have stink at her chow line. Charlotte or Miss Becca would pick up the laundry later, after the shirt ripened some more among the horse rags.
Leaning against a post just inside the barn, CB waited while the girl closed doors and put the equipment away just like she liked it. He rued the day he helped her with the putting back. She had a system and he broke it. After she finished tearing him up one side and down the other, he was more than willing lay about while she struggled with the picks and shovels. The woman had used no words she shouldn’t, but CB rather have the foreman curse a blue streak then deal with her on a rip.
Her eyes kept drifting to him, her lips curled in a secret laughing smile, as things got put.
Dang, he knew he was dirty, especially after two weeks on the trail checking fences, but her stares since he came in with the dawn were making him a might self conscious. He ran one hand down his chest seeing if any manure had snuck inside the shirt before he shucked it. Slick sweat and dusty red clay combined leaving mud across his pecs and abdomen. He started wiping with both hands, but the streaking went from bad to worse.
Seeing his difficulty, Charlotte snagged a clean towel from the pile they used to wipe down horses.
“Let me,” the brunette suggested.
The little thing didn’t even top his shoulders, but he figgered she had a good idea. “If you’re game, I’d be obliged.”
He had worked the Double Bar T Ranch since the girl was a freshman in high school. None of the hands, including him, realize Charlotte worked harder than a mule following a carrot before she went off to college. Everyone made the piece of pudding welcome when she came home for the summer, and gladly returned her chores to her tender loving and firebrand care.
“Wouldn’t offer my services if I wasn’t.” She said as she gently wiped the mud off his front side. She looked up smiling, her head cocked to the side.
Tarnation, she had the prettiest brown eyes. CB sweated a few bullets before she started circling around back. CB stepped away from the pole to help her, and his jeans slipped lower.
Well that don’t beat all, his pants were falling off. He lost weight on the trail like he always did and he didn’t have a belt on. And he hadn’t wore underpants because he had done worn the lot on the trail and turned them inside out once to boot. He looked down and saw his short curls peeking over the top of his Levis.
He wondered if he could pull them up without her noticing.
Ooh, that feels so good. She put some ginger into her rubs.
“Like the moan cowboy, sounds just like Rowan when I get it just right. Why don’t you just set yourself down and I can work you top to bottom.” The nineteen year old pushed his twenty-eight year old carcass over to a bench. “Just sit right there and I’ll get the water.”
He watched the girl move through the barn, picking up two more towels, fetching the softer hand soap she preferred, and filling a bucket. He may have lost weight in the last two months, but she had put some on … in all the right and proper places. Her jeans were snug and her top was tight; she would need some new glads before the summer was out.
While he watched, one of the straining buttons failed, giving him a peek of white satin between red and blue plaid.
Setting the bucket beside him on the bench, she stepped between his legs to take off his hat and place it on her head. His eyes were in line with the gape in her shirt. Wouldn’t take much to pop another one. The buttons immediately above and below were straining like puppies on a leash.
A cold wet towel plopped on his head. “Now let’s get down to business CB.”
Shock of the cold made him reach out and grab the easiest thing handy. Happened to be Charlotte’s butt. She wiggled, not hard, just a something not right. Instinctually, like answering a horse shiver, he moved his hands down a bit ‘til they were comfortable. Cupping her sweet ass cheeks.
He outlined and massaged her ass, praying her daddy didn’t walk through the door, while she washed his hair, shoulders and face. Charlotte traced his face gently, gave him a quick peck on the lips and then leaned over his body to wash his back.
Okay, now he sometimes forgot to board the train as his fellow hands put it. But if a woman hits him with a clue-by-four he might figure things out. He reasoned it had to be easier for her to walk around to his back to wash him, rather than lean over him, pressing her breasts into his shoulders, her butt supported by his hands, and one leg wrapped around him for balance.
He brought a hand around to her front and rubbed the wide open juncture of her legs.
This time she was the one who moaned like Rowan.
“Oh dear,” Charlotte announced, “I am just getting wet through and through. Would you mind if I take off my shirt CB?”
“If you want to Miss Charlotte, I just don’t want no problems with Mr. Teahon.” CB’s hands continued to massage of her backside and front zipper. “My job here is as fine as you.”
Charlotte’s cadence changed from the East Coast university she was attending to her childhood tempo as her voice roughened in passion. “Aww, I didn’t expect no sweet talk CB.”
She lowered her leg outside of his denim clad one, pushing it against her own leg with his hand caught between. She lifted his face, holding it firm.
“Now you don’t go worrying about my paw none. I have already told him what I want, told him even before I went off to schooling. He said if my eye hadn’t wandered by the time I got back and you were amenable-like, he would lock up the shotgun.”
Charlotte brought her other leg to the outside of his legs then sat aside CB. His buttons to her zipper. “So tell me, cowboy, are you amenable? I got some proof here saying you be willing and able.”
(words 1,122 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/29/2013 for the 7/15/12 Sunday Fun (unknown copyright on picture); republished new format 4/15/2018)