SUMMARY: A missing scene from The Julia Bulette Story. My response to the September 2016 R-forum story challenge.
MA-rated for graphic sexual content. Word count: 3790
Things weren’t going the way she’d planned. It had seemed such a good idea. A way to pay back the town for its hypocrisy. A way to pay back Ben Cartwright. A way to show her disdain for all those hoity-toity women of Virginia City who turned up their noses as if they were sniffing something bad in the air, whenever they passed her in the street. Those same women whose husbands and sons frequented the gaming tables at her Palace—and partook of its other offerings too—while their ignorant womenfolk busied themselves with their own affairs, and wished for fine upstanding husbands for their own precious daughters.
Fine upstanding men, like the Cartwright brothers.
Julia looked down on the boy, asleep face down on the bed, left knee raised and twisted about with fine white linen, so peaceful, so perfect, sprawled on her bed and wrapped about with fine white linen, like some bizarre sacrifice. How young he looked when he was sleeping. Her mouth twisted. He was young. Fresh-faced and innocent. Wasn’t that the whole point? She had come across plenty of boys younger than this one, all keen to sow their first wild oats. But Little Joe Cartwright was one of those fine, upstanding young men, from a fine, upstanding family. At least, that was the impression they gave out. Yet regulars at the Palace knew full well that Adam Cartwright, and his brother Hoss, were more than fleetingly acquainted with the plush interiors and accommodating young women who worked there. Even Ben Cartwright—the great Ben Cartwright, revered and honored throughout the whole of Nevada—was not as faultless as everyone made him out to be. She remembered all too clearly—twelve years ago, was it?— a year or so after the death of his wife, how he’d come to her, lonely, desperate, searching for the comfort of a woman. Julia had been new to Virginia City then, and barely more than a girl herself. A girl with ambition. It was men like Ben Cartwright that had made her dream a reality.
Ben Cartwright. The man people looked up to for his honesty and his integrity. But—Julia’s mouth tightened—a man of seemingly short memory. He who had sought the comfort of her body twelve years before, was now at the forefront of the move to “clean up” Virginia City and have the likes of her swept out of town.
No matter, Ben Cartwright, that you were keen enough to seek solace between my legs when it suited you, or that your two fine sons regularly frequent the Palace to enjoy the talents of my girls.
Her mouth tightened then relaxed again at the thought of the supple young form on the bed. Ben Cartwright could do his worst, but she, Julia, had a secret weapon: his sweet, untainted youngest boy. She smiled to herself. Although not so untainted now.
Revenge was going to be sweet. Her eyes appraised the sleeping boy; his smooth, muscled back and the tight, round curves of his firm buttocks. Had already been sweet!
It had been a long time since Julia had entertained a man in her bed. Other than Jean, of course. And she and Jean, they were—she frowned, considering—not like man and wife, that was too comfortable. Something less comfortable than that. Jean was a penance, a self-abasement. There was nothing kind about Jean. He was a bully and a braggart. Yet of all the men she had known, only Jean had the power to subdue her, and that was a powerful aphrodisiac
Then along had come Little Joe Cartwright who, in youthful naivety, had squared up to Millain. To defend her. Misguided he might have been, but Julia’s curiosity was piqued. And when it turned out that her young gallant was none other than Ben Cartwright’s youngest son, it was as if fate had handed her the opportunity for revenge, on a plate. She would serve the boy back to his father, on another, bloodier plate, divested of his sweet innocence. Joseph Cartwright’s downfall would serve as a public reminder of the hypocrisy of the Cartwrights and the double standards of the so-called “respectable” men of Virginia City.
And it had been so easy. The boy had been putty in her hands, bursting with eagerness when she’d opened the door to him that evening, all scrubbed and combed, dressed up in his Sunday best, just to impress her, smelling of soap and cologne. Charmingly sweet, adorably adoring, it had seemed as if it would be so easy. Right up until the moment she’d let him kiss her. For all his youth, the boy was no amateur when it came to kissing a woman. She hadn’t been prepared for that, and the thrill that went through her threatened, momentarily, to undermine all her plans.
“We should get down to business,” she’d told him, breaking away and pulling out of his arms. It would not do to let this boy get under her skin. He was here solely so she could exact revenge on Ben Cartwright and she must not let herself be distracted from that objective. “Sit down. Let me take off your boots.”
He’d looked a little taken aback, but she’d pointed at the sofa and he’d sat down obediently and raised each foot in turn so she could remove his boots and stockings. She wore only a light robe of lace and silk. It had already caused him a visible and instantaneous erection the moment she’d opened the door to him, earlier that evening. Now, as she leaned over, her hands around his feet and ankles, the sheer fabric fell loose around her bosom, exposing the full length of her cleavage to his gaze. The crotch of his trousers bulged tighter and Julia’s tongue touched instinctively at her lips.
With his feet laid bare, she turned her attention to his jacket.
“Let me take this for you.”
He’d shrugged it off willingly. It was clearly his best and expensively made, so she laid it carefully over the back of the sofa.
“And this.” She gave his tie a teasing tug, pulling it free. Their bodies were so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest as his breath came faster and harder. “And…” she smiled a playful smile as she reached for the collar of his shirt, “…this.”
His eyes took on a feverish brightness as her expert hands divested him of his shirt, revealing his lean, taut musculature. He’d leaned towards her then, as if he would kiss her again. Swiftly, she rose to her feet. She would not be undone by another kiss. Instead, she took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom door.
He’d hesitated then, his face suddenly earnest.
“I don’t want you to think this is the reason I came.”
He really was a gentleman. She’d had to suppress a smile.
“Why did you come then?”
He’d gulped, dazed eyes blinking at the expensive furnishings and luxurious décor of the bedroom as if he’d found himself in a dream.
“I just…I wanted to see you.”
The fact he’d meant it had made her want to smile again as she crossed to her bed. It felt strange, inviting him into her sanctuary. She had long ago given up entertaining clients herself; she had girls to do that now. Jean was her only lover, the only man ever admitted to her room. Until tonight. Her heart pumped faster, in spite of herself.
“So….” Still with her back to him, she pulled at the satin ribbon holding the gathers of lace and fabric around her, “you wanted to see me.” The robe fell open. A small movement of her shoulders and the silky fabric slipped down her arms and dropped to the floor. She waited for the space of a couple of breaths before turning to face him. “Here I am.”
He was staring, eyes wide, as if all his dreams had just come true.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, summoning him with a gesture.
He came towards her like a man in a trance, unable to drag his eyes from her nakedness. As soon as he was close enough, she reached out and took hold of him by the belt, opening her knees to pull him close.
“Well,” she said, pressing her hand against the protruding lump at the front of his trousers, “this feels promising.” She raised her eyes to his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark with longing. “Should we let him out, do you think?”
He didn’t have to answer. The hunger in his eyes spoke for him. Her fingers traced the shape of his swollen genitalia, and sensed the shudder that went through him. Exhilaration sent a shiver through her insides too. She would never tire of this animal desire manifesting itself beneath her hands. Not only was it a source of endless fascination to her, it was immensely satisfying and profitable into the bargain. It had given her a power over men that had made her the wealthiest woman in the territory. She had no regrets. She enjoyed men too much.
Undressing him was like unwrapping a gift, the thrill of anticipation mounting as first his belt, then each button of his fly, parted beneath her hands. A teasing glimpse of taut, erect flesh through the gaping opening of his drawers, too tempting not to touch. She slid one hand inside, the muscles of his belly tightening as her fingers measured his rigid flesh and explored his taut scrotum. Her other hand pulled open the fastening of his drawers and eased his straining phallus free of the restrictions of linen and serge.
He was big, his cock so swollen with anticipation she could almost see it throbbing. Her heart beat faster. It had been a long time but this was familiar territory; this was where she excelled. The destruction of Joe Cartwright was going to be even more pleasurable than she had imagined. She could almost feel this exquisitely molded tower of flesh pushing her open and filling her to perfection; her body was already responding of its own accord, growing moist and warm at the thought.
Grasping his slender hips, she drew him closer and touched her mouth to the head of his engorged penis, sensing the shiver that ran through him as her tongue traced the line of his straining shaft, licking the moisture from the tip, tasting his saltiness. Her fingers closed around the thickened base, working up and down the stem as her tongue teased the top. The muscles of his stomach tensed as his breath came harder. She closed her mouth over him. He felt good; tight flesh and flexing muscle; instinct driving him deeper into her mouth. His hands clutched her head as she tightened her lips around him, sucking deep. He pressed himself into her, the hot spurts of his climax bringing a moan of anguished relief from his throat.
She drew back her head, her hand caressing him gently as his muscles relaxed. He opened his eyes, staring down at her with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. A moment later, his face broke in a wide, endearing smile.
“Wow! I wasn’t expecting that!”
She gave him an impish look. “I’m full of surprises.”
She pushed his remaining clothes over his delightfully firm, round buttocks, down to his ankles, and he kicked them aside. And there he stood, lithe and smooth-skinned, as perfect in his nakedness as a classical statue, yet living, breathing flesh. Julia knew pretty much all there was to know about men. In her time, she had seen more than she cared to count, in every shape and every size, yet the sculpted perfection of the boy in front of her made her heart quicken.
“That’s better,” she said, aware that her voice betrayed the desire his naked body had roused inside her.
She stretched out lengthways on the bed, propped on one elbow. His eyes traveled hungrily over her body, gazing with longing at her heavy breasts, lingering on her thighs and the triangular mound of dark hair between.
“What would you like to do next, Little Joe Cartwright?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched his palm to the dip of her waist. Still without answering, he traced the shape of her hip and thigh, his hand coming to rest on the curve of her calf.
“I’d like…” he turned his face to her. “I’d like to look at you, if that’s all right.”
She smiled, approving that answer. The boy had a natural sensitivity, just as his father had done before him. Ben had been a gentleman always, even in his most desperate moments. Big and strong, but always considerate. For a moment she compared the two of them, father and son. Unalike physically, but both gentle, courteous, sincere. Ben had been older, of course, much older than Joe was now. He’d had three wives so he’d known his way around a woman. Comforting him had been as much of a pleasure as it had been a means to an end. Unlike most men, who had come to Julia for their own sexual gratification and nothing more, Ben Cartwright’s satisfaction had been the greater for knowing she’d found hers too. He had found respite from his sadness in giving her pleasure. Sometimes, when they passed each other in the street, she wondered if he remembered those torrid couplings, driven by grief and despair. They had been difficult days for him. Maybe it was simply easier for him to forget.
Now, here was the son, with the same self-assurance born of wealth and status, yet at the same time with a refreshing innocence. Little Joe Cartwright was no novice when it came to women, but experience told Julia that the boy had never gotten this far before with a girl, for all his charms. That didn’t surprise her. Ben Cartwright was a formidable man; a man who—in spite of his own brief weakness—upheld high moral standards. For himself and for his sons. Would his youngest son be capable of acting dishonorably with a regular girl? Julia doubted it. Little Joe Cartwright wore his honor all over him, like an invisible suit. Women might fall for him, but even the most daring of respectable girls would only allow a boy so far; girls from homes where even the mention of sex was a like a dirty word. For respectable girls, any loose behavior would tarnish their reputations forever. It was what kept women like Julia in business. The stakes were too high. Even prostitutes weren’t immune from the risks, for all the precautions they employed. That was why Julia kept a separate house in the town, for those of her girls who found themselves in that kind of trouble; a home for the bastard offspring despised by the hypocrisy of polite society. Little Joe might have kissed plenty of girls, but she could tell by the wide-eyed awe on his face he’d never seen one completely naked before. It was time he got to appreciate what he had only ever imagined until now. There was no risk for Julia. She had long ago embraced her own inability to conceive as an emancipation; as if fate had endorsed her choice of profession. She was free to enjoy, and enjoy she did.
She stretched out flat on her back, relaxing her head against the pillows with a luxurious smile. “I’m all yours.”
Excitement made his breath unsteady but he took his time all the same, his hand brown against the whiteness of her skin as he explored the length of her leg, then over her hip to her belly and up to her left breast. He took it in his hand, testing its weight and fullness, manipulating it softly, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then moved to the other side and did the same. His touch was confident. He’d done this much before, she was sure. Then, his hand playing with one breast, he dipped his head to tease and suckle the other with his mouth, and in his lap, his penis stiffened and rose again.
He lifted his head and turned his attention to the raised mound at the base of her belly. Slowly, breathlessly, he rested his palm over the dark nest, and for a moment he was still, as if savoring the moment. She could tell once more from his face that this was new territory for him. Inch by inch, his fingers moved downward between the soft, yielding flesh of her thighs, feeling their way into the hidden folds of her skin, discovering the warm, juicy moisture at the opening to her body. A soft sigh of elation broke from his mouth as he slid a tentative finger inside her. Her legs eased open of their own accord and she sighed too, the pleasurable sensations of his probing all the more luscious for the sight of his cock responding too, growing ever bigger and harder as he pushed further into her.
He withdrew his finger, and shifting his position down the bed, so he was sitting level with her knees, he lifted her right leg, the one that was closest to him, and laid it across his lap, exposing to his fervent gaze what he’d only ever imagined before. Once again, his fingers explored. He was a novice, for sure, but his instincts were good, and his naïve clumsiness was in itself oddly exciting, especially when he lowered his head and pushed his hot tongue into the moist folds of skin. It excited him too, dewy moisture spilling from the head of his penis. His licking, thrusting tongue , and the readiness of his swollen cock fired her lust to a burning need.
It was time.
She dug her hands into the curls of his pretty head, drawing him up. He came willingly, burying his head in her neck, and as he finally sank the full length of his throbbing cock into her, she opened her legs wider and gasped in jubilation .
“Harder,” she whispered. “Harder!”
She grasped his taut buttocks, the strong muscles flexing beneath her hands as she pulled him deeper inside her. He pushed right in, and she responded with a moan of pleasure. He pushed again, harder this time, a little grunt of ecstasy escaping his throat. With each thrust, desire swelled inside Julia, in a hot ball. Faster he drove, and she responded, driven by a shared urgency. And then, with a sharp intake of breath, he was there, ramming him into her with a force that made her cry out in exultation, every muscle in her middle contracting into a burning knot that exploded in wave after wave of glorious rapture.
Afterwards, it had seemed too good to be true, the boy slumped over her, half-drunk with bliss, she basking in a glow of physical euphoria and a sense of victory. She’d done what she’d set out to do and stripped Ben Cartwright’s precious son of his youthful innocence. What was more, she had enjoyed every minute of the process. But then, the boy had lifted his head and laid his lips against hers in another of those kisses that somehow penetrated right through the tough armor of years of cynicism.
“You are so beautiful,” he’d whispered, tracing the shape of her cheek with his finger. “I didn’t know anything could be this good. I’m in love with you, Miss Bulette.”
She’d laughed at that. “No, you’re not. You’re in love with what we just did.”
His face had remained serious, his eyes searching her face with unsettling intensity. “No. I know what I mean, and I am in love with you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
She’d seen in his eyes that he meant it, however hard she tried to laugh it off, and the moment of doubt that had caused her to hesitate earlier that evening had swept back and threatened to dilute her triumph. Damn the boy! Damn his angelic face and soft eyes. Damn his unsullied beauty and his youthful vigor. Damn his endearing smile and his heart-melting kisses. Her plan had been to steal the sweet innocence of youth, not to allow the sweet innocence of youth to be her undoing.
Love made men weak. Jean had once said to her, “There are many ways to destroy a man. I use a gun, and you Julia, you do it through love.” If the boy believed he loved her, wasn’t that all the better? Of course it was, and yet….
Pull yourself together, Julia! Wasn’t this part of the plan? Lure the boy with promises of physical pleasure. Make sure he had a good time. Wave the bait in front of him and get him to bite. Use him. Exploit him. Suck out his innocence; ruin him; send him on his way. No man has ever gotten the better of Julia Bulette. Don’t let this wide-eyed youth, with his soft eyes and sweet mouth, be the first.
She was right. She’d been right from the beginning. The boy was nothing more than a tool, a means to an end.
Rising from the window seat, her robe hanging loose about her shoulders, she crossed to the bed and sat down beside the sleeping boy.
“Time to go home,” she whispered, but he did not hear.
The firm curve of his haunch was irresistible. She let her hand trail down over his buttock and stroked the soft sac between his legs. That roused him. He stirred, rolling onto his back and opening his eyes with a drowsy smile. The sheet had wrapped itself around his loins but there was no mistaking what was happening beneath. She closed her hand around his swelling shaft, just for a moment tempted to let him stay, to pull back the linen and climb on top of him and take her pleasure.
She released his penis and rose from the bed. “You have to go now, Little Joe.”
His face fell. “Must I?”
She picked up his pants and tossed them at him. “Yes, you must.”
You must. But you’ll be back. You won’t be able to help yourself. I know men, Little Joe. I know you. You’ll be back, and I’ll look forward to it. By the time I finish, you’ll be as corrupt as the rest of them, and your family and the whole town will be witness to your downfall.
And I will enjoy every moment.
Other Stories by this Author
- Mrs. Hardwicke’s Parlor (by Inca / aka Tye)
- Dancing With Angels (by Inca / aka Tye)
- Secrets and Lies (by Inca / aka Tye)