Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Derrick’s rubbing was heavenly. Rudy sat stripped to the waist in the center compartment of his “Remington Rudy” cabinet, the rear doors open to the theater wall. The cabinet was, for now, positioned off in the side aisle of the Oddfellows Theater. The ringmaster Cannonball had allowed Rudy to perform his trick that night for whatever experimental audience they could rustle up, as The Black Crook didn’t open for another night.

  Meanwhile, Alameda was being costumed for her part as Stalacta, Fairy Queen of the Golden Realm. The men had figured their presence was a good way of keeping an eye on her as well. Derrick had dropped Percy’s ski sketch off with a carpenter Alameda heard had built exquisite furniture, and Rudy had roped him into assisting him in his act.

  Derrick said, “This will prove that Jeremiah didn’t steal Kittie, if Castillo allows her to return during our show.”

  Rudy wished Derrick would massage his fingers longer. His squiggling of each finger with the bear grease was blissful and made Rudy’s cock plump up. This would not do, to have an obvious erection while standing in front of five hundred people. Rudy made a sudden decision. “I’m going to do this completely naked.” Derrick’s fist around his forefinger stilled in surprise. “All right, I’ll just wear some kind of drawers.”

  Derrick went back to his massage. “That’ll be good. That’ll be another distraction for the audience. Looking at your well-built body while you patter before hiding in the cabinet. Here. Lean back against that side compartment. I want to watch you struggle.”

  Encouraged by Derrick’s sly smile, Rudy did as instructed. Derrick straddled the center bench and watched avidly. Rudy had always enjoyed displaying himself to others—one of the hallmarks of a good showman—and he knew that his pectorals flexed admirably when he strained to get loose from his bonds.

  Rudy was confused by his reaction to Alameda’s pussy. He had imagined that his new mission to erase women from his life sexually had been a great success. He had not even had an erection due to a woman in two years. But when he’d watched Alameda fingering herself in full, brazen view of Derrick, something in his brain had just snapped.

  He had to participate in some way. And instead of being disgusted or nauseated, fearful even, Rudy had enjoyed the hell out of frigging that luscious woman. He had wanted to lean over and suck on the nipple of her buoyant breast, but Derrick had gotten there first. Rudy was not appalled by the copious amounts of juice that had flowed over his hand. No, he had wanted to bury his face there, to lick that clitoris like it was a penis, but he refrained out of respect for Derrick.

  It was Derrick’s business to toy with his belle. And Rudy had been perfectly happy toying only with other men. Now, he was afraid it was his love for Derrick—for Rudy knew he was in love with the man, had known that since first viewing him in the audience at Montreal Jed’s performance—that was breaking down all his walls. Since Derrick loved Alameda, Rudy must love her, too.

  Now Rudy struggled against the bonds Derrick had tied. He could already tell Derrick hadn’t done a good enough job, and he could easily escape within seconds. But it behooved him to pretend it was difficult, as he enjoyed Derrick’s eyes roving over his naked torso. The opera singers onstage were now attempting to sing the lowly burlesque tune in harmony.

  See, see, see

  See the sun in Orient splendor

  Gilding every glittery spray

  Busy weaving jeweled wreaths

  For our lovely Queen of May

  “Is that Alameda?” Derrick asked. “The Lovely Queen of May?”

  “Yes. Get over here. You need to grease up my shoulders.”

  Derrick probably knew it wasn’t necessary to the trick, but he didn’t question it, just scooted up on the bench and dipped his fingers in the grease pot. Rudy’s eyes slipped shut as the fingers glided over his shoulders then down his pectorals. His prick twitched obviously, and he knew his one power over Derrick was the power of sex. There had to be a way for the three of them to live in tranquility, for Rudy never wanted to give Derrick up. And he was starting to suspect he might enjoy Alameda as well.

  Derrick now said, “You’re a strapping, athletic stallion. I think it would distract the audience even more if you didn’t hide in this cabinet and allowed them to watch you escape. Especially in a loincloth.”

  Rudy mustered a grin, but Derrick’s greasy fingers were tracing a trail to his nipple. He gasped when Derrick rubbed there. There was no need for oily nipples in the act, but Derrick was panting heavily. Now he rubbed both nipples with both thumbs, and Rudy could feel the heat from his crotch as they straddled the bench there in the dark cabinet.

  “See my costume!” trilled Alameda.

  She knocked on the side of the cabinet as if it were someone’s front door. The two men jumped as though they’d been caught committing sodomy, Derrick’s greasy hand hovering in midair. Alameda stuck her head and shoulders into the back of the cabinet. Rudy sat erect in pleasant surprise.

  “You’re naked,” he observed.

  Alameda entered the cabinet casually, bending low to avoid mussing her headpiece of ostrich plumes. Indeed, some perverted costumer had clothed her in a one-piece stocking of nude color that covered her ankles and wrists. She would have looked entirely nude were it not for the strategic glittering leaves and vines that twined over her abundant breasts and the skirt of dried grass they had allowed her to wear. Derrick’s jaw hung low in either appreciation or shock.

  “I can’t allow you to go onstage in that,” Derrick said.

  “Oh, come on!” Rudy cried. “This is the theater, burlesque. This is the way it’s done. I’ll venture most of those other women are scantily clad, too.”

  “Yes,” Alameda agreed, putting a hand on Derrick’s shoulder. “Let me. The Fairy Queen of the Golden Realm must be an attractive life-giving being, not some prude from a nunnery. Look. I have golden slippers on.”

  Derrick looked skeptical, unable to take his eyes from her gravity-defying breasts. “Maybe if you wore some kind of a jacket. How do you use the necessary in that getup?”

  Slyly, Alameda leaned back on the bench and spread her thighs. “A slit. I can piss very easily.” Sitting upright again, she brushed her bosom against Derrick’s arm. “Maybe a tiny little glittery vest. I will ask them. And now.” She pointed at Rudy—at his throbbing erection, to be more accurate. “I wish the two of you to continue what you were doing.”

  “Doing?” Derrick asked innocently. “I was just applying grease, so Rudy can get out of his bonds easier.”

  Grabbing the grease pot from Derrick’s hand, Alameda shoved him slightly by the shoulder. “I will apply grease. You must continue to satisfy your friend.”

  Had Rudy truly heard what he thought he heard? He wiggled his hips to show eagerness, but Derrick wasn’t so easily sold.

  “Satisfy?” he stammered. “We were merely—”

  Now Alameda seemed impatient. Her free hand undid the buttons at Rudy’s crotch while jiggling about his expanding erection, and all Rudy could do was squirm in his bonds. “Oh, merely what, with this giant penis staring you in the face?” Her look became sly. “I know what two men like to do together. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s done a lot in the circus. Right, Rudy?”

  “Right,” he agreed amiably, especially since her little fist was now encircling his prick.

  Derrick whispered, “But I’m a politician. I can’t be seen dallying around with another man.”

  Rudy pointed out, “Is that your only excuse? I notice you didn’t say that you didn’t want to.”

  Alameda added, “No one will see us. That’s why we’re in a cabinet.”

  She let Rudy’s cock pulsate against his bare hip as she grabbed the edge of the rear cabinet door and shut it. There was an interior lock the magician could use to keep out prying eyes, and she flicked it closed. Now it was so dark Rudy could barely make out her shapely, seemingly nude form, and he gasped when she closed her hand over his cock with a handful of grease.

/>   “There,” she cooed into Derrick’s ear, stroking Rudy’s cock to prepare him. “Take his big cock into your hand. Frig him the way you frig yourself. Right, Rudy?”

  “Right,” Rudy agreed. Moon-shaped cutouts high up in the cabinet allowed in enough light for him to watch as Derrick, now eager, took ahold of his prick. What a difference, a man’s broad and warm hand, after the delicate frailty of Alameda’s stroking. The knowledge that Derrick was frigging him in front of his belle, with an entire troupe of burlesque entertainers not thirty feet away, whetted Rudy’s appetite to even greater heights.

  And the siren that was Alameda now twined her limbs all about Derrick, sucking on the side of his neck and murmuring lewd things in his ear as she massaged the bulge in Derrick’s pants. “That’s right. You know how to do it. Grease up that big pole. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Derrick grunted, his fist jerking up and down Rudy’s prick.

  “You like that he’s bound,” Alameda suggested. “You like that he’s helpless, at your command. You like being in control, being the dominant one.”

  Derrick whispered, “I like that a lewd little minx is watching me do depraved things to another man.”

  Apparently this pleased Alameda, for she slithered her tongue in Derrick’s ear and squeezed his cock, although evidently she didn’t plan to give Derrick release, too. Maybe that was part of her evil plot, as the costume of the Fairy Queen of the Golden Realm seemed to have altered her personality.

  Altered it for the good. Rudy’s balls flooded with jism, and Derrick’s expert and enthusiastic pumping would bring him off much too soon. I’m going to squirt all over his lap. Knowing that his cock was displayed proudly and being jerked by the most beautiful and powerful man he’d ever known instantly sent Rudy to the pinnacle of libidinous rapture.

  Alameda whispered, “You like having another man’s big tool in your hand.”

  “Yes,” Derrick grunted. When he admitted, “I like stimulating Rudy’s bulging cock,” that did it. It set Rudy off instantly, spurting great streams of jism against his friend’s abdomen. Derrick’s free hand slid down to caress Rudy’s balls, jiggling them, urging more and more seed to splash.

  Alameda encouraged Derrick. With her hand full of Derrick’s penis, she purred steamily, “That’s it. That’s good. Pleasure your friend. Make him want more. He’ll want to come back for more because you’re that good.”

  Rudy twitched and jerked in his bonds. He had performed acts such as this many times before with other men, but never had such an exquisite orgasm come so fast. It was the hand of the man he craved the most that had stroked him to such bliss, and Rudy felt bawdy and profane, his prick still stiff as Derrick squeezed the last drop from it.

  “Ah,” Alameda breathed into Derrick’s ear. “You do that well.”

  Perhaps to deny that he was interested at all in frigging Rudy and to show her he was only doing it to please her, Derrick let go of his prick and grabbed Alameda for a lusty, openmouthed kiss. She slung a leg over Derrick’s lap while Rudy easily squirmed out of his ropes.

  Rudy enjoyed watching the couple kiss for a few moments. Alameda humped Derrick’s hip with only the thin fabric of her sheer outfit covering her pussy mound. For a few leisurely moments, Rudy marveled that he had met this couple who seemed willing to admit him to their sex play. Magic had assisted in this. Percy—a ghost, after all!—and his clues and hints had brought them together, and now they were set to unmask the kidnapper and bring happiness to Laramie because they alone would bring back the stolen Kittie.

  “You in there?” Someone shook the cabinet, and Derrick and Alameda detached with gasps.

  “Oh dear,” said Alameda, hand to her chest. “I thought that was a real spirit. Maybe we shouldn’t be in this cabinet.”

  “Miss Deluxe Dora?” asked a stage worker. “Cannonball says we’re ready to rehearse your scene.”

  At this, Alameda sprang from the cabinet, dramatically gesturing. “Arise, my loving subjects!”

  Rudy chuckled as he crammed his prick back into his trousers, bits of rope hanging from his wrists. “I sure hope that’s one of her lines.”

  Derrick grinned. “It could just be her.”

  The stage worker told Rudy, “And some giant milk canister arrived for you.”

  Alameda slid away theatrically, crying, “From beneath the rank leaves of a plant glided a huge serpent. Its eyes were burning coals, its tongue a living flame. I was paralyzed with fear and powerless to move. Nearer and nearer it came…”

  “Revenge, revenge!” called out one of her sprites. “Revenge on the Arch Fiend, Zamiel!”

  They clambered out of the cabinet and looked at a giant steel can someone had placed nearby. “Ah,” said Rudy. “It came. Good. I’m going to use this as the opening act, before I even get inside the cabinet. You’re going to lock chains around my wrists—I’ll teach you how to palm me the key—and put me inside this can. Only it’ll be full of water.”

  “Can you get out easily enough?”

  Rudy shrugged. “I hope so. A magician is but an actor playing the role of magician.” He held up his palms to Derrick then grasped a thumb and bent it back so it touched his wrist. “I’m double-jointed. One of those contortionist fellows, such as Percy saw with Kittie.”

  “Are you a suspect?” Derrick chuckled. “We’ll have to test your acrobatic skills later. All right, let’s practice this milk can act.”

  “Where are my scenes of infernal life and wreaths of flame?” bellowed Cannonball from the stage.

  A throne lit by candles, decorated with skulls that looked shockingly real, was flanked by two dwarf demons. Rudy was certain one of them was Major Littlefinger, possible cohort in the abduction of Memphis Kittie. A dozen other fiends danced about the throne, laughing diabolically in front of a flashing chasm that was nothing more than someone rattling a big piece of cardboard glued with glitter.

  “That’s Zamiel, the Arch Fiend,” Rudy told Derrick of the devil who now took the throne.

  This Zamiel wobbled as though oiled as he tried to take his seat, his ass instead hitting a throne arm and knocking it askew. He waved his scepter, and the dancing devils parted, bowing down to him.

  Zamiel shouted, “If, when the brazen tongue of time, now trembling on the cusp of midnight, proclaims the appointed hour, the wail of the fresh soul who betrayed me breaks on the air of hell! Let her be summoned!”

  “Let him be summoned,” suggested Cannonball.

  Zamiel waved his wand at the ringmaster. “I summon Stalacta, Fairy Queen of the Golden Realm!”

  “That’s not in the script!” howled Cannonball, but already someone was shoving Alameda onstage. She skittered out, bewildered.

  “He’s right,” said Rudy. “Zamiel never meets Stalacta. The part they’re doing now is just the grand crescendo with a lot of lights and flames. Vistas of pandemonium.”

  Derrick said, “Let’s see what he does. Maybe he’s improvising.”

  The roostered devil stood, pointing his scepter at Alameda. “Stalacta! Your soul is mine, I tell you! All mine! I shall smite you with this scepter and cast you into the abyss!”

  Alameda held her hands out. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked Cannonball. “Does he cast me into the abyss?”

  “That devil looks familiar,” said Derrick.

  “Yes,” Rudy agreed.

  Cannonball yelled, “What are you doing, Castillo? Zamiel doesn’t cast Stalacta into any abyss. You’re supposed to throw the innocent Amina in there. Amina! Where are you?”

  Zamiel shouted, “Zamiel wants to cast Stalacta into his abyss! She has caused him great anguish!”

  The trapeze girl Temperance scurried out, allowing Alameda to be shuttled offstage, thankfully. But not before the two men shared a look of realization.

  “Eliazar Castillo,” Rudy breathed.

  Their suspected culprit, Castillo the knife thrower, was playing the part of the very devil.

  Chapter Twelve<
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  “And now, ladies and gentlemen. I shall proceed to crouch down in this can, which you’ve seen is filled with melted snow. Senator Spiro here will replace the lid while I free myself from these chains.”

  Alameda watched from the wing of the stage. They had somehow lured the maximum five hundred people into the theater, probably bored with nothing else to do. No one could get out of town with the train and only road snowed in. The Elks Club was planning a big fandango in an hour, so spectators were just getting warmed up with flasks of whiskey and a keg of beer her sister Ivy had donated in the name of her husband Neil, the town’s deputy. Neil Tempest, snowed in at his Serendipity Ranch, was evidently looking to create more work for himself by donating the beer. Several revelers sitting in the audience near the pregnant Ivy were tossing a ball back and forth and creating a public nuisance, and it probably wouldn’t get any better from there on in.

  It was her job to keep an eye on Eliazar Castillo, their suspect. If Percy was right—and he mostly had been, so far—Castillo would use their cabinet act as a way to bring Kittie back and make it look as though the kidnappers had been Rudy and Derrick. They hadn’t entrusted her with a pistol—they didn’t know she had secreted her ladylike pocket pistol in the white rabbit’s fur muff she held in her lap now—but her eyewitness recounting of anything she saw would stand them in good stead. Neil Tempest would believe his sister-in-law. And here on the vast frontier, the law of Judge Lynch usually took care of matters.

  She relaxed now, having seen that Castillo was standing one row behind her, about five people down, easily detected by the devil’s horns he had glued to his cap.

  “The senator is your beau?” Temperance asked.

  Alameda started to say “yes” but paused. She really didn’t know what to say. Derrick had stated he was “seeking her out,” singling her out of the crowd for a courtship. But Derrick was to move to Cheyenne, and she didn’t even know if she wanted a beau. Could she trust a man again, after tolerating the cheating adultery of her fiancé Ralph Ellis? Why on earth would a man ask someone to marry him when he fully intended on bedding an additional one hundred women before the wedding even happened?