Foster looked me in the eye, grabbed my jacket in his fist, put on his meanest growl and warned me that he would take me apart if anything happened to...the lady. "And don' you dare touch her, you filthy oaf, you stupid pile of shit. Kept that ugly thing in your britches or I'll tear it off," he growled as his last rum-tinged charge. I saluted and suppressed a smile.We took her sturdy carriage and George rode ahead with a flag of truce while I kept the team going the right direction, my docile. Bea was working behind the bar at my favorite watering hole and I had been trying for months to get her to give me a tumble. She would just laugh at me and remind me that she was an old married lady, but I sensed that she would eventually cave if I just kept after her.One night I was sitting at the bar watching Bea's fine ass wiggle as she walked back and forth behind the bar when the back door opens and in walks a wet dream; long black hair, sparkling green eyes, and a body that most women. More

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