Chapter 2

They stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the saloon’s revelry fading into the background. The stars above twinkled in the inky sky, a stark contrast to the debauchery they’d just witnessed. Will followed Carter’s lead, his mind still reeling from the events of the evening. “What now?” he managed to croak, his voice still thick with desire.

Carter grinned, his eyes glinting with greed. “With two more wins like that,” he said, “we could buy ourselves a horse and ride out of here like kings.” His hand tightened around the wad of cash in his pocket, the feel of the paper and metal a reassuring presence. “Imagine it, Will,” he continued, his voice low and filled with excitement. “A horse of our own, no more walking everywhere. We could go anywhere we want, do anything we want.”

Will nodded, his own thoughts racing. The taste of victory was sweet on his lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of more easy money and easy women. He looked over at Carter, his friend’s face flushed with excitement and lust. “We should do it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant din of the saloon.

Carter grinned back at him, the same greedy light in his eyes. “Hell yeah,” he said, slapping Will on the back. “We’re on a winning streak, buddy. We can’t stop now.” The two of them had stumbled upon a goldmine, a secret desire hidden deep within the wild west’s heart. The allure of the naked catfights was more than just a novelty; it was a lucrative venture that could set them up for life.

The night air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the sweltering heat of the saloon. They took a moment to breathe in the freshness, the scent of the desert mixed with the faint hint of distant campfires. The stars above them were like a thousand eyes, watching over their newfound fortune.

“You know,” Carter began, his mind racing with possibilities, “Our mom’s always strugglin’ to keep the farm afloat. And she’s still a looker, even after all these years.” He shot Will a sideways glance, his grin widening as he saw the wheels turning in his friend’s head. “What if we set up a little show of our own? In the barn, with some of the boys from school as the audience?”

Will’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “You mean, like a ... a private show?” He licked his lips, his mind already racing with the implications.

Carter nodded eagerly. “Exactly. We’ll get the word out, spread it around school. We’ll charge ‘em a pretty penny to watch, and they’ll bet on the outcome. Think of it, Will, the farm’s troubles could be over with just a few good shows.”

Will’s eyes lit up at the thought. “But how would we say to get our mom fight in naked?”

Carter shrugged, his mind already racing with the logistics. “We’ll tell her it’s for a good cause, that we’re just putting on a bit of entertainment for the boys. They’re always looking for a good time, and we’ll make sure they pay for it. And who knows,” he said with a leer, “she might even enjoy it.”

The thought of their mother fighting naked in the barn was both thrilling and slightly disturbing, but the allure of easy money was too strong to resist. They had seen firsthand how much the men in the saloon were willing to spend on such a spectacle. If they could bring that kind of excitement to their own backyard, they could change their fortunes forever.

The two friends spent the rest of the night in a feverish whisper, planning their next move. They had to be careful, though. They couldn’t just spring the idea on their mother; they had to convince her that it was for the greater good of the family.

The following day, Will approached his mother with trepidation. She was a strong-willed woman, who had worked tirelessly to keep the farm running after their father had passed away. “Ma,” he began, “Carter and I had an idea. We think we can help out with the finances.”

Mrs. Ellen ‘the Busty’ McMillan looked up from her sewing, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What kind of idea?” she asked, setting aside her work.

Will took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. “Well, we saw this thing in town last night. A ... a show.”

“A show?” Mrs. McMillan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Will stumbled over his words. “It’s like ... a, uh, a competition. Between two ... ladies. “It’s a ... a fight, but they’re not dressed.” Will swallowed hard, his palms sweaty.

Mrs. McMillan’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like the one I heard about at the saloon last night?”

Will nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, just like that. But here’s the thing, Ma. We can do it here, in our own barn. We’d charge the boys from school to watch, and they’d bet on the outcome.”

Mrs. McMillan’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re suggesting I ... fight naked in the barn?” She couldn’t quite hide the skepticism in her voice.

Will nodded, his heart racing. “It’s not just about fighting, Ma. It’s about entertainment. And, well, you’re still as strong as ever. And...” He trailed off, unable to find the words.

Mrs. McMillan studied her son for a long moment before sighing heavily. “What kind of show are we talking about here, Will?”

Her son looked at her with earnest eyes, trying to convey the seriousness of their situation without delving into the explicit details. “It’s a ... a catfight, Ma. But it’s more than that. It’s like ... it’s like a performance. A way to make some good money without breaking our backs in the fields.”

Mrs. McMillan leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. She knew that times were tough, and the farm was barely keeping afloat. The idea was ludicrous, but the desperation in Will’s voice was hard to ignore. “And what makes you think I’d be willing to do something like that?”

Will gulped, his face flushing. “Well, we thought, if you were to participate, we could pay you. It’d be like any other job, except ... you know.”

Mrs. McMillan’s expression remained unchanged, but a glimmer of understanding passed through her eyes. “And what makes you think I’d agree to such a thing?”

Will’s voice grew more earnest. “Ma, it’s not just for fun. We need a horse. With the crops failingin’ and the debts piling up, your job at the diner isn’t cutting it anymore. We’re barely makin’ enough for food, let alone anything extra.”

Mrs. McMillan’s expression softened slightly. She knew her boys had been feeling the strain, but she hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad. “Alright, Will,” she said finally. “Tell me more about this ... performance. How do you propose it’d work?”

Will’s heart leaped with hope. He quickly outlined their plan, explaining the bets and the potential for profit. Mrs. McMillan listened, her expression unreadable. When he was done, she was silent for a moment, weighing her options. Then she spoke, her voice firm. “I’ll do it. But under one condition: it’s one time only, and only if it’s for the farm.”

Carter couldn’t believe their luck. He jumped in, eager to seal the deal. “We’ll make sure it’s safe, Ma. We’ll be the referee, to keep it fair.”

Mrs. McMillan eyed her sons skeptically. “And who’s going to be my opponent?”

Carter’s mind raced, trying to think of someone who could match their mother’s strength and beauty. Then it hit him. “Mrs. Norma ‘Booty’ Phelps,” he exclaimed. “Her boy, Billy, is always bragging about her wrestling days. I’m sure she’d be up for it, especially if we make it worth her while.”

Mrs. McMillan raised an eyebrow. “Norma? She’s got a right temper on her. But I reckon she’s still got some moves left in those hips.” She nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll fight her. But you boys make sure it’s just this once, and that you keep it under control.”

The preparations for the secret show were swift and meticulous. They needed to ensure everything went smoothly, that no one got hurt, and that their mother’s dignity remained intact. They approached Mrs. Phelps with their proposal, hinting at the potential to settle an old rivalry and help out with the town’s gossip. She took the bait, the idea of a little extra income too tempting to pass up.

The night of the fight arrived, the barn filled with the sweet scent of hay and the musky scent of anticipation. The audience was a mix of sweaty, eager teenage boys and a few older townsfolk who had caught wind of the event. The air was thick with whispers and bets being exchanged.

Mrs. McMillan and Mrs. Phelps stood in the makeshift ring, their naked bodies gleaming with oil under the flickering lantern light. They had agreed to fight in the name of sportsmanship and for the sake of the farm, but the underlying tension between them was palpable. The crowd’s whispers grew louder as they sized each other up, their breasts heaving with the anticipation of battle.

Will, now acting as the referee, cleared his throat and announced in a shaky voice, “Gentlemen, place your bets! This is a one-time-only event, a battle of strength, agility, and ... uh, strategy. The rules are simple: no biting, no gouging, and the fight ends when one lady can’t get back up. And remember, this is all in good fun!”