Page 36 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

She’s shooting me daggers now. “I don’t give a fuck what the jacked asshole gets up to.”

Clearly, the Jasper comment struck a nerve, I’ll have to ask Dahlia about it later.

“You treating my girl right? She’s a good soul, Dahlia. She needs someone to nurture and love her like they understand the true angel she is. She’s my best friend and I’d do anything for her. I like you two together and you make her very happy. As self-appointed Dahlia-guardian, I need to put the fear of god in you before I give you my blessing.” She reaches a hand acrossthe bar and yanks me towards her with a surprising amount of force. “If you hurt her in any way, shape, or form, they’ll have to identify your body with your dental records, capisce?”

“I would die before I hurt Dahlia. I’m glad she has you, even if you kind of scare me.” Daphne gives me a sly smile. I thank her for the drink when the lights dim. The DJ booms over the crowd.

“Y’all there’s a Damsel in distress. She needs a big, hunky cowboy to come save her.”The spotlights roam the crowd. “Someone who can sweep her off her feet—a man who can handle a whole lot of woman. He’s gotta be strong. He’s gotta be sexy. Willing and able to rescue our Damsel with his capable coc—hands! Who will it be?”

Suddenly a light up cowboy hat is dropped on my head from behind, and I turn in time to see Daphne point to me, yelling she’s found the cowboy. Two absolutely shredded dudes in Speedos with bandanas covering their faces appear at my sides, arms out for me to link mine through. I’m cracking the fuck up because I definitely didn’t expect this level of commitment to the show. The two naked bandits haul me up to the stage where a metal chair awaits me in the spotlight.

I can’t lie, I’m nervous as all fuck at the thought of being on this stage in front of so many people, but again, I’d do anything for my Dahlia.

My nerves evaporate when the lights dim and the music builds. As the guitar chords play, the lyrics start to register—it’s a rock song about watching someone get off, the thrill of having a voyeur.

I feel Dahlia before I see her. She slinks behind me dragging an arm across my chest, before she tilts my head up to her. The crowd is eating this shit up by how loud it is, and Dahlia’s smile tells me she is too.

She lets my chin go and saunters to the front of the stage in front of me where she bends to touch her toes before draggingher hands slowly up her body. She’s wearing cutoff black shorts and a skin-tight white tank top outlining her massive tits in just the right way. I’ve never been more jealous of an item of clothing in my life.

Dahlia turns to face me while wrapping an arm around each side of the shirt like she’s ready to pull it over her head.

Is this real life?

I’m sweating bullets and shifting in the chair. My movements catch her eye and she shakes her finger at me, making me feel like a very naughty boy. She walks slowly towards me when she straddles my hips and I’m recalling every embarrassing memory of my life to keep my dick from unloading in my jeans right now.

As the song plays, she’s mouthing the lyrics to me when she grabs my hands and holds them right above her hips. The raspy voice sings about the excitement to look when you can’t touch and I’m vibrating with need. Before I know it, she’s hopping off me to pull the cutoffs down her thick thighs. I didn’t realize before, but she’s wearing her hair in pigtails—the innocent style a contrast to her seductive moves. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a sinful display of pure beauty.

With the shorts tossed aside, Dahlia dances around, moving in a hypnotizing way in only the white tank top and a black G-string. She comes to kneel in front of me, doing some sort of extremely talented movement with her ass cheeks before she pops up and sits on my lap. She plucks the cowboy hat off my head and leans back with it on her head at the final beat of the song.

We’re both breathing heavy, even though I haven’t moved a muscle the entire performance for fear of coming in my pants at her touch. She wraps an arm around me for a hug and I scoop her up bridal style, carrying her off the stage to the chorus of her laughter.

In her dressing room,she throws on her robe and turns to me. “So, what did you think? Ready to run away and become a two person burlesque troupe? I think the audience loved it, there was so much money on the stage.”

That’s news to me. I didn’t see a single thing past Dahlia during the performance.

“I didn’t hate it, not one bit. You are quite talented in the ass jiggling department?” I say it like a question because I’m not sure why the fuck those words left my mouth. “I mean the audience seemed to really enjoy that move.”

She rewards my awkwardness with a smile. “They do love that move. So do I. Ready to head out?”

The short drive back to Dahlia’s apartment is filled with her giggles reminding me of her passenger princess status. She guides me to a sketchy parking lot at the end of her block. Dahlia proudly tells me how the building manager lent her his spot for the weekend since he’d be gone anyway.

We make the short walk to her building and head up to her apartment where she takes a shower and I scarf down the PBJ she made me. I’m still hungry as all fuck because I’m a big dude, but I don’t tell her, grateful for the sweet gesture.

Dahlia comes out and I swear every time I think she can’t get any prettier, I’m proven wrong. This version comes in the form of a bare face and damp hair, hanging in long waves down her back. She’s got pink fuzzy slippers on and an oversized Fata Morgana shirt. She plops down on the futon next to me. Dahlia says Daphne texted she had plans after work, so we have the place to ourselves for now.

We sit cross-legged facing each other talking about everything under the sun, well into the night. When Dahlia starts to yawn, she says she’s going to put her head down for a second and then she’ll go to her room. I agree it sounds like a good idea and lie down next to her.

Within moments, she’s out like a light and I’m not far behind her, not bothering to wake her up. I press a kiss to her temple and fall asleep on the world’s most uncomfortable futon, but I’d sleep here every night if it meant she was next to me.

TWENTY-EIGHT

a new york minute

Dahlia

I’m startingto wake up when I stretch and smack my arm against something fuzzy. The fuzzy something grunts back at me and I open my eyes to see a sleep mussed Wes.

“Good morning.” I pull my arm back and face him.