Chapter 1

He’d been driving past the Texas Two-Step Cafe on the way to work since the first day he came to town. A man at the bar in the hotel where he was staying told him, “The Two-Step is the town ‘meat market’ where folks here try to line up their weekend squeeze. It’s a place where several married ladies like to shop for a little recreational sex, the place to meet women if you are so inclined.”

The four weeks he had spent so far in Rio Branca were supposed to have been only two. His team had done their job of directing the installation of a three-branch test of the new CPU22 data system, but the client had been negligent in carrying out their responsibilities to complete the work. He had dutifully called his wife in California at the end of every day for the last four weeks. But until that moment he had no time to think about recreation or entertainment He had spent so much time on the project that he had no energy for anything else. His long absence from home put such a strain on his once fantastic marriage that he was thinking there wasn’t much hope for that to succeed. Three nights before his conversation with his wife led him to believe that she might be having an affair. It ended with Lydia hanging up the phone in anger. For the next two nights, she neither answered nor returned his call. Before he left to come to Texas, they were working on spicing up their marriage. They had sex every night, they were enjoying each other’s company and both he and she were looking for his return in two weeks. Now, frustrated to the max he was looking at yet another week away from home which was putting even more strain on the marriage. Fuck it he thought I’m tired of going to sleep with my five-fingered friend, it’s Thursday night and I’m going to check out the Texas Two-Step.

Having just called room service for dinner he was now in the shower savoring the massaging effect of hot water on his back. As he lathered his erection, he imagined his fist was a silky vagina. “Hello, my name is Pete Santori,” he said swaying to the rhythm of his moving grip. He imagined women of various forms with sparkling eyes and sensuous mouths that might be kissing his lips. Tightening his hand around his throbbing cock he shouted, “GOD,” as he came, and his knees turned to Jell-O. As he slumped against the shower wall he murmured, “It’s been too long. I need sex so fucking badly.”

After toweling dry, he pulled his tight Levi’s over his bare ass and tucked in his starched, white dress shirt. Looking into the mirror he pretended to make eye contact with the mysterious, beautiful woman whose camel toe loomed so prominently in the crotch of her imagined jeans—where his tingling organ might find solace before the night was over.

Texas Two-Step Café was already crowded. Two-thirds of them had already paired up and were dancing on a large rectangular floor “boot scooting” to a variety of Country & Western tunes. Men in Levi’s, western shirts, and cowboy boots with women (all wearing cowboy hats) in their tight jeans and checkered shirts were gliding around the large floor. Sitting down on the last empty stool at the bar Pete ordered a Shiner Beer. As he nursed it, he felt the alcohol beginning to provide the welcomed buzz in his brain he was hoping for.

Through the music and myriad voices, he picked up the sound of a woman’s sultry laugh. Taking another sip from the half-empty Shiner he peered in the broad mirror to see if he could pinpoint its source. Two women had just come through the door. Both were dressed in cowboy chic. The younger woman with long blonde Barbie doll hair was about the same height as Pete’s wife Lydia, five feet four. She had the shining face of an angel. Her companion, an inch or so shorter, was older. Her auburn hair was shorter than the younger woman’s, done in a flip hairdo popularized by Dorothy Hamill, the Olympic ice-skating champion of the seventies. The younger one’s shirt was open to the second button showing the cleavage of her nicely formed, B+ breasts, the outline of her nipples shadowing the thin aqua fabric of her shirt. Looking from the bumps of her nipples to the seam of her tight jeans Pete made out her marvelous camel toe for which his eyes were always searching and felt his penis pushing against the rough denim fabric of his Levi’s.

As the Barbie doll turned to face the woman next to her, he could see that she resembled the older woman, her younger sister. As the girl turned her back to him, he captured her elegant hourglass figure highlighted by a tight, pear-shaped ass and thought I wonder if Levi Strauss ever thought his jeans would look THAT good on ANY human being. His eyes never leaving the mirror he ordered another Shiner while nibbling the complimentary goldfish and pretzels. Ordering another Shiner, he scanned Barbie’s tight bubble butt and wondered what it would look like out of the package. Taking a swig of his beer he thought, who’s kidding who, their dates will be here any minute, I should just go back to the hotel and get close to my five-fingered friend.

Lost in thoughts of self-sacrifice the sounds of the two females’ laughter tickled his ears. Checking the mirror, he saw that the laughter coming from Barbie and her older sister seemed to be focused in his direction. The rims of his ears flushed as he was wondering what they thought was so funny about him. As they kept talking, laughing, and looking in his direction he began to become annoyed. The older woman whispered something in the younger one’s ear. Without smiling, Barbie nodded her head. As if in a trance she kept staring directly at Pete. While noodling the mystery of why they were looking at him and laughing he noticed that the older woman was caressing Barbie’s neck just below her ear.

Suddenly the younger girl scrunched her shoulders, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. Her face flushed and her nostrils flared wildly. Just then her sister patted her on the back and said something that looked like, “Ooh, which must have been a good one,” and laughed. Did I just imagine that or is my mind just playing games on me? He’d heard of women who could get themselves off by squeezing their pussy lips together and compressing their clits against the hard seams of their jeans. His wife had said that she had done it herself several times. He wondered if it had just happened with Barbie. God, are they looking at me? The older one licked her lips and whispered something to Barbie. Both laughed again. Jesus, he thought, they ARE looking at me.

Taking another swig of his beer he looked fully at them in the mirror and winked, chuckling for feeding himself such silly bullshit. The wink brought broad smiles to the girls, faces. “What the hell,” he said as he gathered the courage to get off his stool and murmur, “Faint heart never won fair maiden.” Both women smiled as he approached, rolling their eyes at one another when he said, “Evening ladies.”

“Howdy,” the older one said.

“You two look like you could be related,” Pete said,

Barbie replied, “Kind of,” winking. They both laughed out loud.

“You’re sisters?”

“Listen to this charmer,” the older one said in a Texican, sing-song voice, batting her eyes. She pooh-poohed him with her hand.

“Nope,” Barbie said, “She’s, my mom.”

“You’re kidding me,” Pete said. The older woman held her shoulders back showing generous breasts that pushed against the fabric of her shirt, her nipples prominently catching the shadows. No fucking way he thought then said, “You must have gotten married when you were FIFTEEN.” She blushed again, looked at her daughter, grinned then looked expectantly back at Pete.

Holy Christ, he thought, they’ve gotta be pulling my chain. “I’m Pete.”

Obviously, in charge, the mother said, “My name’s Dotty, Pete, mighty pleased to meet ya. This little beauty beside me is my daughter Silk. Ain’t she darling?”

He nodded his approval and said, “She’s the image of her mother.”

Dotty blushed and said, “You charming man, what do I have to pay ya for that compliment?” flicking Pete’s shoulder with the backs of her fingers.

With her tongue in her cheek, her daughter smiled, obviously proud of how young and pretty her momma looked. “Silk,” Pete murmured in recognition. “Such a soft name,” where am I getting this bullshit? Having never been a player he was surprised that the lines were coming so easily.

“Silk, honey,” Dotty said in a husky voice, “this man knows how to communicate with women.” The daughter didn’t say anything, just smiled, her big blue eyes looking like cornflowers.

“What brings you, pretty ladies, to the Texas Two-Step Cafe on a Thursday night?”

Dotty smirked, made a growling sound, and said, “We’re just a pussycat and her kitten Mr. Pete, out looking for a tomcat on the prowl te-he-he,” fluttering her eyes.