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The Beguiled

 Away from the old pain, I searched among the saloons on Front Street for
 new. The crowds were rough, but I knew my way around. I had learned well
 how to shove back and get through. I entered a smoky bar. At the back of
 the room, I saw a face turn to me.

 He had that look of one who knew he was desired, but rather enjoyed
 being sought rather than do any seeking on his own. I felt rather than
 saw the callous upturn to the lip beneath the mustache, the subtle shrug
 to the shoulder and chose him. He thought I was fair game. His arrogance
 and selfish confidence made him mine.

 The distance of the room between us out on that Kansas prairie was a
 distance of worlds. I determined the man who refused to seek would seek
 me, here, now. The whiskey was rough, but enough to dull any sense
 ...common or otherwise. It was my turn to turn to hurt
 someone...and this arrogant ass was in for one wild ride.

 "Barkeep. More whiskey."

 Another bottle later, I was ready. My reputation was known among some in
 Sweetwater, even as early as 1845. Some knew my story, some knew my
 shame. Most knew what would happen next. Sensing my time had come they
 cleared tables away to make space. From a hidden place beneath my table
 I caressed the huge snake and drew him from the basket. As the coiling
 snake mesmerized those standing close, I stared into the eyes of the
 stranger. He was moving closer. My clothing found its way to the floor
 and the snake and I danced lustily. Around my body, moving slowly, the
 snake undulated his way knowingly round my hips, my legs, my breasts.
 His darting tongue added to the fear in the crowd, and to the passion
 rising in me.

 The smooth coiling gave me a fever as it always did....that taboo
 passionate movement of skin upon skin. The danger, the forbidden thing
 made me heady. The snake knew. He caressed me knowing my need.

 "I want you" the stranger whispered, and I knew he was beguiled, hungry
 and wanting. I had won him.

 Scooping me and the snake into his arms he carried me up the stairs to
 the drunken cries of the crowd.

 For hours the snake, the man and I writhed together upon the old cast
 iron bed. Aroused, the man did not notice the snake coil himself about
 us all. As the man moved above me to take pleasure in giving me his
 poison, he screamed. The snake embedded his mighty fangs into his face
 and the snake's poison flowed.

 Come snake...other pain awaits.

 Written by R J Fernalld aka WhiteRose
 copyright 2001
 do not reprint without permission

This page is brought to you by Roni & The WWA Festivities Team.
Graphics by Full Moon Graphics.