I got to bragging, likkered up, you know, and they jollied me into it. Followed me up the road." No excuse, is it?" I asked, squinting at him."No sir," he said, looking back and forth from Nancy to me."You want I should cut off his ballocks, sister?" I said calmly."Maybe jus' one," she said.I thought the boy was going to faint. "Please," he said. "I came to say I was sorry." He did, brother," the girl said, a hand covering her mouth. "I'll forgive him." More'n I'd do," I said, sheathing my blade."Go on, Jim," she said."I'm that sorry," he said, looking mournful and twisting his hat in his hands."Go on, get out," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and rising to her toes to kiss him briefly.He smiled and left with barely a "Good night, sir," to me.Nancy fell into my open arms, and I held her face to my chest to muffle her laughs. She sounded awful young. After we heard him ride away, I bent and kissed her about as briefly as she had pecked the Redcoat."You've got a quick wit," I. She could buy all the casual sex she wanted, but usually she didn't need to resort to that expedient. Her reputation sufficed. She was extraordinarily skilled in the erotic arts and few indeed were the variations thereof that she hadn't mastered. Men staggered from her embrace drained of desire and passion... and life force.Another husband -- maybe that was what she needed. A good and decent man, not like the spoiled, rich jerks she'd been married to. Smart, steady, sensible, kind, and having a good sense of humor. A good listener. Sympathetic. And, of course, an enthusiastic and virile lover, willing to try anything, capable of fulfilling her special needs. She had quite a number of special needs.The trouble was that she was looking for an exceedingly rare breed of animal. Those few men possessing the right attributes were already spoken for.Take Zach Whitman, for example. He met or exceeded all her specifications, but there was one minor problem -- he was married. His wife adored.
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