by Aisha Brooks
“Where is that whore!” he was yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Ahh, Tyson!” Junior says, turning around, his empty whiskey glass in his hand. “I was hoping that I would run into you!”
“Junior Parker!” Tyson yells drunkenly. “What the hell are you doing back in Atoka? I thought I told you to stay the hell away from here with your whore of a wife!”
“Oh you did? I was under the impression that you had run away to keep your wife from finding out why I fired you,” Junior says, pleasantly.
“Oh? And why was that again? Because as I recall, I quit!”
“Now, Tyson…don’t be foolish. Everybody in this room knows that nobody ever quits working for me…I was too good to my guys. Right, Dandy?”
“That’s right, Boss,” Dandy answered.
“Now, Dandy, I done told you that I ain’t your boss any longer.”
“I know. Old habits die hard,” he answered.
“So, Tyson…let’s think this over. We can make this as easy or as hard as you like. I’m already gone from these parts. Ruth and I have got a nice new homestead in Nebraska, we’re trying to have a baby, and we have no intention of coming back.”
“Yeah! Because I ran you out of here!”
“No. Because I wanted to go somewhere where I wasn’t widely known as the richest son-of-a-bitch in the area. Now, I am going to give you one last chance…either promise me that you will leave Dwight, Dandy, and their lovely wives alone, or I will wreck every vestige of power you have in Coleman County, Texas.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I’ll simply tell everyone the truth. Who do you think they’ll believe? You? Or me?”
“Me you whoremonger!”
“Last warning, Tyson…call my wife a whore one more time, and I will end you.”
“Whatever, asshole! Your wife is a whore, his wife is a whore, and his wife is a whore!” Tyson yells, thoroughly deranged and pointing at Junior, Dandy, and Dwight in turn.
“Fine. Our wives are whores,” Junior says, the smile never leaving his lips. “And you are a hypocritical pig who parades about how holy he is because you are an elder at the church. Well guess what? I got you your job with the county, and the only reason that you are in a position of power with the church is because I allowed it. Right Preacher?” he asks a man who had been sitting in the corner the entire time. “You knew that I was against his appointment as an elder, didn’t you? Well here is why…I had to fire him as a way to try and save him…he has been beating his wife, screwing every prostitute in the county…and his daughter, Elizabeth too!”
The silence in the room was palpable as Tyson Abrams stared Junior in the face. The seconds stretched into days as he sized Junior up, and then he finally lost his composure and lunged at Junior, screaming some kind of war cry, “euarrrrrrrrrghhhh!!!!” but when he got within arm’s reach of Junior, he was met full force by Junior’s right hand, dropping him to the floor, unconscious. The room around them was covered by an audible silence, until Junior himself broke it.
“Folks, these men,” he began, gesturing toward Dandy and Dwight, “these men just want what we all want. They want to live their lives peaceably and to raise their families. Dwight was married for many years to Amanda, a woman from Coleman County like the rest of us. Dandy has lived here his whole life, and rid this county of Doc Dawson, the criminal. Do not let yourselves be taken in to believe something that goes agains what you know to be true. They aren’t whoremongers…well, not any more at least,” he said winking at Dandy, who was widely known as a playboy before Sarah Anne came along. “These are good men. You know it, I know it, and God knows it. Don’t give yourselves over to madmen like Tyson Abrams. Give yourselves to God, who is the just judge. Who sees the heart, and separates the sheep from the goats.”
After the scene at the Hanged Man, Dandy had the distinct pleasure of arresting Tyson Abrams…and locking him up in the Atoka Lockup, just as he had wanted. Sarah Anne gave birth to a little boy, who they named after Dandy’s former employer and the former owner of their ranch. The little boy was named “Junior Parker Darby.”
Dandy went on to become sheriff of Coleman County, and winning no less than seventeen quick draws against outlaws while riding with the Rangers in that capacity. He retired undefeated at the age of fifty-six, and wrote his memoirs.
Dwight Butler and Pauline went back to Voss, where they were named Junior Darby’s godparents, and they helped Dandy and Sarah Anne to raise him up. Dwight’s daughter by Amanda, Emily, married a man who performed quick draw demonstrations for the rodeo, and they traveled all across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and Oklahoma doing demonstrations. Dwight lived another fifteen years, when he died of a heart attack, and he was buried between Amanda and Pauline, his two wives.
Junior and Ruth returned to Nebraska, where they finally conceived a child together, three years after Tyson was arrested. They gave birth to a young girl, naming her after Junior’s mother, Annabelle. She went on to marry a Mr. Trevor Thomson in Nebraska, and he was elected to the state legislature.
Sally eventually recovered from her injuries, but within six months, she was gone from Coleman, never to be seen again.
Tyson was forced to resign from his post as jail-master in the Atoka Lockup and elder at the Atoka Church of God. He then left Coleman County for good. His wife, Emily, finally left, and his daughter, Elizabeth made a full recovery from the emotional trauma that Tyson caused with his abuse of her.
Emily owned a saloon in Montana, and died there twenty five years later. Tyson, on the other hand, got his just desserts outside of a brothel in Dodge City, Kansas, when he was caught beating one of the women there. The madam who owned the establishment shot him between the eyes with a Colt .45, just under a year after his arrest.
No one ever found out who the matchmaker was. She continued working as Postmaster for Coleman county, and never made a match again, feeling that all the headache was more than it was worth.
In short, they all lived the lives they so craved and deserved.
SEAL’D With A Smile
A Mail Order Bride Romance
This deliciously dirty story is a part of Julia Becker’s super-charged, highly lewd collection of love and lust, written in 2015. Those who attempt to steal any part of this goldmine and take it as their own risk being a fiery, hot death from a hunk bearing copyright notices—and she’s not about to play with you.
This is a work of fiction—although we wish that people like this really existed, it’s nothing more than a figment of a very, very overactive imagination. Any resemblance to someone you know, a place you love or a thing you hold dear to your heart is nothing more than a craving in your heart that these carnal desires and actions were true!
It goes without saying that this book oozes with erotic sex appeal, and is filled to the rafters with a smorgasbord of acts that you certainly wouldn’t tell your grandmother about. Bodice-ripping, panty-dropping and glasses-steaming, the scenes contained herein are wickedly naughty!
Although all the saucy characters are flirting with forbidden desires and sometimes taking the naughty fruit they really shouldn’t be, all are consenting adults over the age of 18 and not blood-related. What they are is passionate and eager to explore their carnal desires all day long.
In short, this book is going to get you very, very hot!
© Julia Becker
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any many whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults age 18 and over. All characters represented are age 18 or over.
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1: ARMY
Chapter 2: A Con
versation With The Psychiatrist
Chapter 3: SoldierMatch.com
Chapter 4: The First Date
Chapter 5: Getting To Know Each Other
Chapter 6: Deep Thoughts
Chapter 7: Declarations of Love
Chapter 8: The Happy Ending
Chapter 1: ARMY
Soft, white light from a single incandescent light bulb illuminates the waiting room of Dr. Trevor Williams’s Green Bay offices. In the middle of the waiting room floor is a beautiful mahogany coffee table, upon which rests a stack of magazines ranging from “Field & Stream” to “Good Housekeeping,” and the “Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition.”
The worn upholstery of the leather couches and sitting chairs that line the sand colored walls of the sitting area are in stark contrast to the fresh arrangements of fake yellow tulips that sit on the end tables that flank the seats.
Sitting alone on one of the leather sofas is a tall, muscle-bound man in his middle thirties. He is fiddling with a hole in the knee of his blue-jeans in the soft silence while his eyes dart from the flowers to the various certificates and licenses that adorn the walls. His gray t-shirt stretches across his massive chest, seemingly ready to burst at the seams from the enormity of his pecs and biceps.
In sharp relief, block letters spelling the word “ARMY” stretches across the front of his shirt, black and distorted by his muscles.
Around his neck are the dog tags that would have been used to identify his body, in the event that he had been killed in one of the several hell-holes that he visited during his time on active duty.
Stretching up his neck and behind his left ear is the image of a rattlesnake, mouth wide and ready to strike. On the inside his right forearm is a tattoo detailing his exploits as a green beret, one of the proud, few, elite soldiers that take on those missions that normal infantrymen are not trained, nor equipped, to complete.
The first tattoo is of a yellow, five pointed star, with a smaller, second star in its center. Above the star is a ribbon, colored with a pattern of red, blue, and red, with thin white lines between them. Above the ribbon are three “V’s” and a single oak-leaf cluster, showing that three of his four medals were awarded for valor in combat operations.
The second tattoo is similar, but rather than a yellow star with a red and blue ribbon, it is a golden star, with a smaller silver star in the center, and a red white and blue ribbon. Above the ribbon is a single oak-leaf cluster, showing that he received two of the awards for valor.
The third tattoo is of a golden eagle, such as the one in the Great Seal of the United States, with a blue circle around the eagle, saying “For Distinguished Service.” Above the image of the medal is a red ribbon, with a thick, white bar in the center, flanked by two, thin blue bars separating the white from the red.
Having only received one Distinguished Service Medal, there are no oak-leaf clusters above the ribbon. Next, is the medal for which the man is most proud: a golden heart, with a golden image of George Washington on a purple field for the foreground. Above the medal is the purple ribbon, and two oak-leaf clusters, showing that he received three of the awards.
Finally, there is an inverted five-point star, circled by a ring of greenery, below an eagle with the words “for Valor.” Above the eagle is a sky blue ribbon, with five white stars upon it. The Medal of Honor, while the most prestigious military decoration in the U.S., is the man’s least favorite commendation.
While serving in Afghanistan, during his most recent time spent in the country, he had been on a special assignment with his special operations unit. A group of insurgents in Baghlan province, north of the National capitol in Kabul, were scheduling guerilla attacks and suicide bombings at the direction of the vicious mujahidin Sheik Tayyib Pour Salman, who was the senior Taliban leader in the province. The man’s Amethyst team was tasked with infiltrating a compound just north of the provincial capital in Puli Kumri, and capturing the Sheik alive at any cost.
When Amethyst team roped outside the compound at 2 am, they found that they had been the victims of some bad intelligence, and were subjected immediately to a vicious barrage of fire from the ramparts at the top of the compound walls. The leader of the team of Green Berets, 1st Lt. Henry Younger was cut down, along with seven of the remaining nine team members. The man on the couch, as the senior ranking team member, had organized their defense, and still managed to complete the mission objective.
Seeing so many of his friends die in such a short period of time had caused the man to lose his grip on reality, and began suffering from severe panic attacks and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Receiving the Congressional Medal of Honor had been a small consolation for his actions and the things he had witnessed in both Afghanistan and Iraq.
Prior to his initial qualification for the US Army Special Forces, he had been one of the earliest soldiers to deploy to Afghanistan with the 10th Mountain Infantry Division. While there, he had earned his first purple heart, and first bronze star.
After rotating home, he entered into the Special Forces Qualification School, and then joined the 3rd Special Forces Group at Ft. Bragg in North Carolina. This led to his multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, in addition to various special operations missions all over the world. The combined horrors of the various nightmarish hell-holes that he has fought in have all combined to cause his mental break.
But now, he sits in the eerie silence in Dr. Trevor Williams’s offices in his hometown of Green Bay, thinking over all the evil he has witnessed, when a pretty assistant opens the door and calls in to the waiting room, “Sergeant Steele? Dr. Williams will see you now.”
Getting to his feet, SFC Robert Steele, former Green Beret and Medal of Honor recipient walks through the door to speak with his psychiatrist. He certainly has fallen far since his time overseas.
Chapter 2: A Conversation With The Psychiatrist
“So, Mr. Steele,” Dr. Williams says as Robert stretches out on the leather chaise-lounge in Dr. Williams’s main office. “Before we begin, I want to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Robert asks, confused. “For what?”
“For your service. I know that there are many who appreciate what you have done for our country.”
“What I have done?” Robert says, seemingly still confused.
“Yes, for serving our country in the wars overseas.”
“Dr. Williams, with all due respect, sir, but I am not proud of the things I have done or seen in those hell-holes.”
“Okay,” the doctor answers.
“Do you have any idea—any idea—what I have seen and been through?”
“No. Why don’t you tell me about it, so we can get started with your session.”
“Well,” Robert begins. “When I was in Baghdad, for example, I saw several kids with bombs strapped to their chests run into some buildings to blow them up. One kid couldn’t have been much older than about seven, and those bastards put five pounds of c4 on his chest, and sent him running toward our lines, and we had to shoot him.”
“And knowing that your team had to kill him affects you how?”
“Dreams, usually. I dream about seeing the boy run toward us, and I feel the weight of the rifle in my hands as I put it to my shoulder. I squeeze the trigger, and feel the series of recoils as the gun drives itself into my shoulder, and I watch him fall.”
“So, you are the one who had to kill him?”
“Yes.”
“And you dream about it often?”
“Almost every night.”
“Does this happen any other times?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you reminded often of what happened, or do you remember the boy at random moments during the day?”
“Yeah, I guess so…”
“Okay, what reminds you of him?”
“Almost any kid anywhere.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“If a car backfires or I hear any loud bangs or noises, I’m back in Baghd
ad all over again.”
“Okay. What other things happened that are hard for you to remember? A particularly bad fire-fight? An explosion, perhaps?”
Robert thinks on this question for a moment, and finally begins to answer Dr. Williams, telling him of a particularly bad day in the Kandahar province of Afghanistan. He and a squad of Special Forces operators were trekking through the mountains when they came upon a small village. Bearing the obvious signs of being in the U.S. military, they tried to go around the village without drawing attention to themselves, but they failed horribly.
