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Aunt Jen

Oh, so you want a story?

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OK: Here it is. I start it, and every person who wishes adds to it, and where the story goes, it goes. Genre: Cowboy/western/sci-fi. This may be a little different. See if you want to make something of it:

 

 

Molly Jeans was the best looking whore in Dodge City's worst saloon. Five foot eight worth of taught and sexy, she could out sass and out fight every other whore in the place, which, in that cattle town, was saying a lot. She could make good money and have fun doing it, too. At two bits a pop, she could usually clear some eight dollars on a Saturday night, and maybe ten on a Sunday. She could fight all she wanted, say anything she wanted, dress anyway she wanted -- and fit right in with everyone else. The sheriff was as crooked as Stop It!'s hind leg, the Madam was a lush, the piano player was missin' two fingers, the Preacher was her second best customer, his wife was her first, and everything was perking along fine, just as it normally did on a Friday.

 

She was on her way back down the stairs after number six, when a glass made its way indelicately through the air just past her unkempt hair and shattered itself gracelessly, like an experiment in particle physics, more or less right through the banister railing, turning into a spiff of powdered glass and whiskey all over Abby Crabbe's varicose veins. Abby didn't even notice. That was Abby: the worst whore in the saloon. It was good it didn't collide its way through her mouth, as she didn't have many teeth left.

 

"Harmon! I told you to quit throwin' them glasses! Ain't got many left, and I ain't gonna drink after you right from the bottle. You hear? You backwash!" Like the sheriff would listen? And, of course, he didn't.

 

There must have been thirty people in the "Whore House" saloon that night, drinkin', gamblin', fightin', when Molly noticed something out in the street.

 

"Oh, Molly! I'm gittin' ready fer you!" Duke Jerkwater said in his most seductive voice.

 

"Hold on a minute, Duke," Molly said absently, as she sidled over to the window.

 

This could be it.

 

She reached down the front, inside her corset, and pulled out her scanner.

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Aunt Jen,Looks like your going to have to tell the whole story.Is Molly red headed?Tell the whole story. I will read it.

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Duke had been sparking the new town school marm Becky Whitecastle, everyone knew it, including Molly. But as everyone also knew, he was one of Molly's regulars.

 

"Yer late Duke!" Molly called out the open window.

 

"Well I couldn't really run out on Becky to come poke you could I?" he answered back.

 

Molly chortled "hell Duke, bring her along!"

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Deja.. stood back.. and said to Grizzes and Aunt Jen .. " y'all both coutry and western" Deja lost her interest in the rock and roll phrase.. lol.. And decided to butt out and keep reading.. lol

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This story is starting to remind me of my days as an actor in independent low budget sci fi western porno films.

 

JUST KIDDING!

 

Gonna have to take care not to let it get too racey.

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This story is starting to remind me of my days as an actor in independent low budget sci fi western porno films.

 

JUST KIDDING!

 

Gonna have to take care not to let it get too racey.

 

:lol:

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Duke stood there for a moment, Molly's last comment caught him off guard, he didn't know if he liked that idea or not..

 

"Hey Duke!" Molly hollared "Where'd you take miss smarty pants tonight anyways?"

 

"We went to the Holo-rama" Duke called back, wishing he had made something up. Molly hated the virtual reality Holo-rama places. They'd been cutting into her business some. Thankfully the Holo-rama charged extra for those kinds of simulations, and while you could program the simulation, it still lacked a little realism, or so she told anyone who would listen.

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