Page 26 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

TWENTY

accidental peep show

Wesley

Well,that went better than I planned. I had expected her to think the sketches were strange, but I was hopeful she’d like them, or at the very least pretend to.

My head’s a fucking mess and I simultaneously want to hold her and run from her. Dahlia’s got me acting like a damn middle school fool and she doesn’t even know it. She’s keeping me at friendly distance, as she should, and I’m over here losing it over compliments on my art. I have no one to blame for my angry erection but myself.

In the midst of chastising myself for my attraction, I remember I never gave her the phone charger she asked for. I have an old one in my nightstand and I reach for my phone to text her about it before I think better of it—her phone is probably dead.

The hall is quiet and I take the three steps across to her room. Her door is cracked open—the hinges are fucked, so it doesn’t stay closed unless you slam it—something I failed to mention during the house tour. The bedside lamp pours through a small opening and I move to knock when I hear soft moans.

If I was a better man, I’d leave this house and consider an identity change. Maybe fake my own death? Unfortunately, I’m not a better man because I nudge the door open a hair. She could be injured making those noises for all I know, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure she’s safe?

I’m lying to myself in this hallway right now, but when my eyes settle on her form on the bed, every rational thought flies out of my head.

In the middle of the bed, Dahlia’s thighs are splayed open and her shirt is pulled up showing the slight underside of her tits. One hand rests on her rounded, lower stomach and the other disappears into her sleep shorts. Her movements are hurried and she looks like she’s straining to be quiet as she rubs herself.

To keep some semblance of boundary and not violate her privacy further, I turn to leave. Her breathy noises float through the opened door, a soft moan of my name forcing me to turn around, and I nearly combust. The sounds of her wetness fill the room and she’s pinching her nipples over her shirt. Fuck, what a tease. I wonder if she likes it rough, or would she prefer I be gentle? Would she be turned off if I told her all the depraved things running through my mind when I’m near her?

Her movements slow as she moans, before she slaps her hand over her mouth. I watch as she comes undone—blissed out and squeezing her thighs together. I leave before she sees me and barely make it through my own door before I take my cock in hand. Within two strokes, I’m coming all over my hand and the floor, and still dying for a taste of Dahlia.

Fuck. She said my name. That has to count for something. I don’t know if she feels the same undeniable pull to me I feel to her, but at the very least she’s thinking about me when she plays with her sweet pussy late at night. My head hits the pillow witha smug grin, because friends or not, my name was on her lips when she came tonight.

The next morningI’m downstairs making coffee when Dahlia appears at the fridge. “I realized I never grabbed the charger from you yesterday and my phone is beyond the grave dead. Did you ever find one?”

I sure found one right before I found out what you sound like when you touch yourself. Opting to keep that to myself, I school my features and point to the counter where the charger sits neatly wrapped up.

“I got you. I was tired too, crashed as soon as I lay down.” Lies. Lies, lies, lies. “Grab a bite to eat and then we can head out. There’s breakfast in the freezer. I’m not much of a cook, so I’m a fan of the frozen burrito.”

Daphne lumbers into the kitchen. And I say lumber because it genuinely sounds like she’s stomping grapes as she comes down the stairs.

“Shit, I slept like a baby. What are they putting in these cowboy beds?” Dahlia looks at Daphne with a confused face, but doesn’t say anything. “I’m ready to giddy up. I even dressed for the occasion.” Daphne moves her arm up and down like a The Price is Right model showcasing her shredded bootcut jeans and Lynard Skynard crop top. Her feet are encased in what I know her and Dahlia refer to as “stompy boots”.

“Just curious, what part of this is dressing for the occasion? I’m digging it, but you don’t really look different from a normal day.” Daphne and Dahlia’s antics are rubbing off on me, so the jokes flow between us.

“Hello! The pants! BOOTcut! Boot. Cowgirl. I’m obsessed.” Daphne twirls. “Maybe I’ll turn a new leaf, start a new life on the farm. I think I’d look great in a hay pile.”

“Okay, Farmer Daph, let’s see how you hold up today and maybe Jasper will hire you on.”

“Slow down there. When I said I could be a cowgirl, I meant elsewhere. If I cowgirl it up here, I’ll end up serving a life sentence for killing Jasper. Prison cowgirl.”

I’m shaking my head when Dahlia starts muttering at Daphne, “You could cowgirl Jasper. Avoid the legal system altogether if you took him for a ride.” I’m wide-eyed looking between the two women when the most terrifying expression overtakes Daphne’s face.

“Sleep with one eye open, bitch.” She stomps away towards the door before returning and pinning Dahlia with a death glare. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Dahlia yells. “What? She teases me about stuff all the time. I have to get her back sometimes.” I’m pretty sure I’m the “stuff” she’s referring to is me, but I don’t say anything as we head out the door. “What do you think their deal is?”

I consider her question. I’m honestly not sure, but Jasper is as private as they come, so it feels wrong to dissect his beef with Daphne. “I’m not sure. Jasper is intense, but he means well. Daphne is loud and proud. I think she disrupts Jasper’s routine.”

“Or maybe he’s madly in love with her.” She snorts.

“Right, maybe he’s madly in love,” I reply, while staring right at her.

TWENTY-ONE

hidden in plain sight