Dean set his wristwatch on the valet chair. Now Dean walked toward her, wearing only his blue cotton briefs. She had never experienced this intensity of feeling before. With her senses so aroused, she felt that she was watching every muscle in his body in motion toward her. His thighs were strong-looking, but not overtly muscular. His manhood was outlined in stressed cloth, but was still disguised enough to leave her guessing as to details, as on some classic statues. He was not a hairy man, but his body hair caught the remaining sunset light in an attractive way. It gave him a faint glow. He pulled back the curtain and swung onto the bed. Laetitia had found that she had to hoist herself onto it. Dean was just the right height, as if the bed had been built to increase her sensation that she was confronting barely controlled power. She stretched out on the bed, and looked at the secret world within the canopy. A sturdy oil lamp was fastened to the bed post at the head of the bed, and. I noticed that an awful lot of words were exchanged, but it seemed like not much was said of any lasting import unless you got the inside scoop on where the fish were biting or who was fooling around with the hired help.The long-awaited Angela was due in on the next stage.The familiar Butterfield coaches were all replaced now by the Wells Fargo blood red coaches.They made easy targets for the reservation jumping Indians that were looking for free rotgut and a chance to lift the petticoats of some shrieking white woman and prove that they were born to run wild and raise hell until the day they died.It was true there were some outrages against the slow-moving settler females, but it sort of paled into obscurity when taken into contrast with the reality of the Battle of Little Big Horn and the government sponsored genocide against the plains tribes played out in Indian Territory.The stage came roaring into town earlier than expected and it was riddled with the arrows of angry Sioux.
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