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Posted: August 23, 2007 - 08:15:31 pm
Pedro and Rosalinda’s reception wound down about five o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Everyone there said it was the best wedding they’d ever attended. The last act of the day was all of us lining either side of the path out of the mission, as Pedro drove Rosalinda towards their new home in a buckboard he’d rented for the occasion. Their new home came with Pedro’s new position on Wilfredo Acevedo’s rancho. Pedro was now the ranch’s foreman, or as Pedro liked to put it, the Commendante de Vaqueros. Pedro saw the position as only fitting for the greatest vaquero of all time in all the universe.
As soon as the buckboard with the newlyweds on it passed through the arched gateway of the mission’s adobe walls, I had a squad of bawling women on my hands. I guess crying at weddings was not a twentieth century invention. Before we left the reception, the Hombres and I agreed that in three weeks we’d perform at Juanita and Emilio’s wedding, also. I think that Joaquin was hoping that Anna would accept his proposal that day so he could book us too, but Anna put him off. One thing that I thought was pretty funny about the afternoon, was how Joaquin managed to keep his daughter from spending much time with me. Even Anna noticed and laughed about it.
“Poor Joaquin,” she said, “he is torn between how much he likes you and how scared he is of you seducing his daughter.”
To tell the truth, Joaquin’s daughter, Inez, was an attractive young woman, but she was headed for the convent soon, her vows reserved for a life as a nun of the Carmelite Order.
I took a little detour on the way home that Sunday, so Melosa and I could spend some time together. Melosa was pleased as punch as I sat on her back and tried to recall the lyrics to some Jerry Lee Lewis songs. Melosa didn’t care for the soulful ‘You Win Again’, but she like the hell out of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ and ‘Breathless.’ I just hoped that Mina shared Melosa’s taste and could do the boogie-woogie on the piano. Heck, I don’t mind telling you that after seeing her dressed up last night and today, I wouldn’t mind her doing the boogie-woogie on me.
Thinking about boogie-woogie, cause me to have an unwanted thought that damn near made me fall off my horse. Right there in 1877 El Paso, I am ashamed to say that I thought about disco. Or more specifically, I thought about John Travolta dancing in the next to the last movie I’d seen, ‘Saturday Night Fever’. Now before you go hissing at me about watching a disco movie, you need to know that my date picked it. The woman I was dating at the time had been immune to my charms thus far, and I was desperately trying to get into her designer Jordache jeans. I’d have gone to a showing of ‘War and Peace’ in Russian for a shot at her.
I’ll tell you I shook any thoughts of disco right out of my head quick like. That was one genre of music that didn’t have a worry about me stealing songs from it.
By the time I made it back to the hotel and my apartment, it was close to six-thirty in the evening. I was all set for a nice quiet evening of reading and doing a little paperwork for the club. I didn’t plan on spending any time in the club that night, because the bars and restaurants were closed, in compliance with the county’s blue law. Of course as often happens in my life, what I expected and what happened were leagues apart, because as soon as I walked into the front door of the hotel, Connie grabbed my hand and started tugging me toward the stairs.
“Come on Caballero, everyone is waiting for you at Belle’s Place,” she said, her speech slightly slurred.
Curious and not wanting to take a chance that Connie might be in the mood to Indian wrestle, I started to walk with her. We’d only gone a couple of steps, when I figured out that Connie was about half in the bag. I stopped and turned her towards me.
“What have you been drinking?” I asked.
Connie giggled, then covered her mouth and burped.
“Belle opened some Champagne, but I’ve only had a couple of glasses. We decided it was too soon to stop the good time we were having at the reception,” she said.
I had my doubts about the wisdom of giving our little Comanche firewater, but she seemed in a good mood, so I let it slide.
We made it up to the Piano Bar and I almost fell on my face from the scene that greeted me. There in the room, clustered around the piano, were the majority of the women in my life, singing, laughing and drinking bubbly. I counted four empty bottles on a table and two open ones on the piano. The heavy drapes were pulled closed, and a few of the candle spheres had been lit, giving the room a soft, romantic feel.
The women had all kicked off their shoes, unpinned their hair and loosened their clothes for comfort. I think the biggest shock for me was that Mina Proctor, ex-Methodist Missionary, was sitting at the piano, banging on the keys. Mina’s hair hung way down her back, her dress was unbuttoned almost to her sternum, and she’d loosened the laces on her corset.
Belle glanced up and saw me standing at the door.
“There’s our man now, girls. Come on in here, Honey, we want to dance.”
Since we were all alone, I decided that I’d teach the women some good old slow dance belly rubbing. Belle was first up, and she held out her hand for me in the classic waltz position. Instead, I grabbed both of her hands and pulled them up around my neck before I reached both arms around her waist and pulled her tight against me. Belle acted as though she wanted to wiggle out of my arms, so I leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“Relax, Belle, and move with me. If you don’t like it, we’ll switch to waltzing.”
Belle became a convert as soon as I told her to lay her cheek against my chest and eased her around a few steps. She sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to me.
“This is so nice when we have privacy, Tyler. Where in the world did you learn to dance like this?” she asked.
I gave her a smidgen of truth.
“A girl I dated taught me. She was a professional dancer named Carmen Ramos.”
I didn’t add that Carmen Ramos was my second ... er ... third ex-wife.
After a few turns with Belle, I took a turn with Feleena. While I was teaching Feleena, Belle had grabbed Naomi and was showing her the ropes. After Feleena, I dance with Molly, Connie and Naomi in turn. As I was escorting Naomi back to the table by the piano, Belle was whispering in Mina’s ear. Mina was blushing, but she resolutely stood up and walked over to me. Belle took her place at the piano and swung right into another waltz. I held out my hand to Mina and led her out onto the dance floor.
It was a completely different experience dancing with Mina, because she was so tall. I reckon bare-footed, she was at least five-ten, only a few inches shorter than me. Mina was reticent about dancing close, but gave in as I pulled her up against me. Mina was tall and slender. I figured she weighed one-twenty-five, tops. She was stiff and awkward in my arms at first, but soon relaxed and laid her head on my shoulder.
“I guess you didn’t have to make me a floozy, Tyler, because I was one all along,” she said.
I laughed and tilted her chin up so we were almost eye to eye.
“You aren’t a floozy, Mina, and neither are any of the others. You and they are just women discovering there is something more to life than being some man’s property.”
Mina was silent for a few seconds as she mulled that over. When she started talking again, she changed tack.
“Maybe,” she allowed, “but hanging all over you half-naked sure seems to me as the path to hell.”
I laughed and kissed her cheek.
“Until you decide differently, your virtue is safe with me, Mina. And even then I might not feel it’s right.”
We danced and partied until about nine, then everyone rearranged their clothes and I walked them home. The first person we took home was Connie, because she wasn’t in any condition to walk anyone home. Connie in her cups was funny as hell. She lost all her shyness and jabbered up a storm. When we danced with her, she had done everything but pull me down on the floor and mount me. That wasn’t really that far out of character for her, because like I said before, she wasn’t some Victorian prude. What really got my attention was when she danced with Molly.
Molly Dean wasn’t squeamish about the fact of some of the women in my life being bisexual; in fact, the idea intrigued her. However, Molly was a victim of her Victorian upbringing, and couldn’t bring herself to act on her curiosity. Connie took the lead when the two of them danced, and in only a minute had a double handful of Molly’s great little ass and was nibbling on her neck. Molly had quaffed enough champagne to lower her inhibitions, and within two minutes, she was riding Connie’s muscular thigh.
So anyway, we tucked Connie in and we all walked as a group, dropping each woman off at her residence. Each woman that is, except for Naomi. Naomi stopped at her place just long enough to pick up a bag she had packed earlier, and went home with Belle and me.
What had been a wild evening, became an even wilder night as Belle and I worked over Naomi. Belle administered Naomi’s punishment for working in the Piano Bar without permission, by spanking her big ass with a yard stick as Naomi knelt on the bed. I had unprotected sex with Belle for the first time that night at her insistence, as she and Naomi sixty-nined. Belle said she was safe because she just finished her menses, and I liked the idea enough to let her convince me.
Connie slept through the night and popped up Monday morning at six, none the worse for wear. Connie woke me gently, sent me to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and met me in the small guestroom so I could take care of what she missed the night before. As a guy, I loved it that Connie was one of those rare women who were ready for Freddy first thing in the morning.
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