“You have a saloon?” Quincy asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, and if you need help dressing, we have lady’s maids as well.”
“Thank you, we’ll change and join the festivities,” Henry said, taking Quincy’s arm again.
“Did you hear that? They have a saloon and lady’s maids. I can’t even imagine having a stranger help me dress but really, how great is that?”
“You are just too cute,” he said as he guided her towards the elevator.
In the elevator, they chatted with Gary and Nancy Edwards, another couple who appeared to be about their age. Henry listened as Quincy and Nancy promised to meet up in a bit to compare their impressions.
“You booked the penthouse?” Quincy said, her eyes wide as he led her to the double doors that were at the end of the hall. “You didn’t have to do that, Henry. I just didn’t want to sleep on the ground.”
“If you’d rather change rooms, I’m sure that can be arranged,” Henry said, sliding the key into the door and pushing it open.
“Oh my,” Quincy said as she stepped into the spacious entrance. The drapes were open, offering a beautiful view of the San Juan Mountains. “No, I think this room is absolutely perfect.” She turned to him and his heart caught in his throat at the delight in her eyes. “Thank you, Henry.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” He had just kissed her when a knock sounded signaling the arrival of their luggage. Quincy just stood and watched as not only the bellhops entered, but two women also dressed in Victorian maid uniforms followed.
In just a few minutes, everything had been unpacked, garment bags hung in the wardrobe, lingerie tucked into drawers, boots and shoes lined up as one of the young women informed them that shoe shine services were also available if needed. After the staff left, Henry pulled Quincy to him again.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that we are doing this,” he said, bending to kiss her.
“Me too,” Quincy said once he’d released her. “Um, aren’t we supposed to be changing?” she asked when he led her towards the four-poster bed.
“We will, but first, I need to give you the first round.”
“Round?”
“Yes, I really don’t think you want all sixty-six swats of your birthday spanking in one sitting,” he said as he turned her around to face away from him. “I figured twenty a day will just leave those last six by the time we leave on Sunday.”
“Tell me, may I expect to reciprocate such thoughtful consideration for the state of my behind by swatting your very sexy butt sixty-six times?”
“Of course not,” Henry teased, “this weekend is all about history. Women didn’t have the right to vote until 1920, and, my darling girl, as you may recall, that was the one era you decided not to celebrate, remember?” Her moan had him grinning and his blood racing as she braced her hands on the bed and pushed out her ass.
He patted her backside before lifting her skirt. “Lord knows I’m looking forward to lifting your skirts every day to discover what sort of naughty undergarments are hidden beneath.” Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he continued, “One last little detail. I’ll be using a different implement for every round.” He could both see the shiver that ran through her body as well as feel it beneath his splayed palm. Straightening, he lifted his hand and brought it down with a smack. By the time he’d delivered ten, she was shuffling her feet, her hips swaying a bit from side to side. Pulling her up, he turned her to him and held her close.
“Um, I probably shouldn’t mention this, but that was only ten.”
Henry laughed. “I never said I’d be delivering twenty at a time. My goal, my love, is to make sure your naughty lady bits tingle all weekend. I want you ready for the grand finale on your birthday.” He gave her a kiss and pointed to the attached dressing room. “Remember, call me if you need help dressing.”
Quincy was already excited about the weekend but her excitement grew as she thought about Henry’s words. Her face flushed as she turned to look at her hiney, which was only slightly pink. Sixty-six swats guaranteed that she be across his knees or bent over the bed every day of their trip and, if those swats were anything like the ten she’d just received, this was going to prove to be the sexiest birthday spanking of her life. You have turned into just as much of a spanko as Venia! Rubbing a hand over her buttock she remembered his final statement—exactly what had he meant by a grand finale? Smiling, she knew she couldn’t wait to find out how he planned to end the weekend with some sort of birthday party, but until then, it was time to join the party downstairs.
Quincy had no plans on calling him for help. She wanted to wow him with the finished product, which certainly didn’t include helping her into any corset. Gathering the clothing she’d begin their weekend with, she pulled on the white bloomers. She pulled on the red petticoat next, tying the ribbon at her waist and twirling in front of the full length mirror. Though she’d questioned the choice of color, Tory assured her that it had been a very popular color back in the day when cowboys came into town looking for drink and the company of a good woman. They had both collapsed into giggles with the knowledge that women who wore red petticoats, silky drawers, and tight corsets hadn’t been truly considered as ‘good’. Definitely ‘fun’, but not ‘good’.
Though she tried, Quincy had to admit the corset was beyond her abilities. She had it on but didn’t have the flexibility nor the strength to pull the ribbons anywhere near as tightly as Tory had done. Glancing at the door, she almost capitulated and called out to Henry but then saw the phone on the wall. Remembering Veronica’s instructions, she called to request a lady’s maid.
Sticking only her head out the door, she called out to inform Henry that she’d made the call. “How about I meet you downstairs?” she suggested.
“Are you sure? I’d be more than glad to help you.”
“No! I want to surprise you.”
“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to show off my lovely lady.”
She had to bite back a giggle knowing he couldn’t possibly be expecting to see her dressed in this first ensemble—not if he were expecting a ‘lady’.
“I won’t, just wait until the girl gets here and then you can go.”
It wasn’t another five minutes before a soft knock sounded on the dressing room door. Opening it a crack, she saw one of the young women who’d helped unpack earlier.
“Good evening, Ms. Lauder, I’m Hildegard Hoffman, your lady’s maid.”
“Is he gone?” When she was assured that Mr. Hopkins had departed, Quincy opened the door and let the girl in. “Is your name really Hildegard?”
“Um, no, ma’am. It’s Heidi but Hildegard is more authentic sounding. I’ll be Heidi again after the festival,” the girl explained with a roll of her eyes before lowering her head and dropping into a curtsey. “Pardon me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to forget my place.”
Quincy grinned. “Honey, if you’re gonna be saddled with helping an old woman into a corset she has no reason to be wearing, we’d best become friends. Save that bobbing and ma’aming for the other guests.”
After a moment’s pause, Heidi grinned and nodded. “If what I’m seeing is any indication, you are going to knock your handsome cowboy out of the saddle.”
“That’s the plan, now let’s see if we can make that statement come true.”
Twenty minutes passed before Heidi guided Quincy to stand with her back to the full length mirror. “Forget knocking your Henry out of the saddle, you’re going to knock him straight out of those gorgeous alligator boots he was wearing.” Quincy held her breath as the delightful young woman turned her to face the mirror. “Okay, you can look.”
Quincy opened her eyes and gasped. Though she’d tried on the entire outfit at Tory’s, she hadn’t had makeup professionally applied or her hair professionally done. “Oh my,” she said, her eyes wide.
“You are gorgeous,” Heidi said as she draped the black lace shawl around Quincy’s shoulders.
>
Quincy had to agree. The scarlet satin corset fit her snugly, the cut far more modest than a woman of half her age would wear, and yet its black ribbons threaded through each eyelet before being tied into a pretty little bow at the base of her spine and the pretty black lace that bordered the neckline, had her feeling young and sexy. She wore a black skirt that flared out over the several layers of red tulle that made up her petticoat. The black ribbons woven through the lace at the cuffs of her bloomers matched the black of her ankle boots that Heidi had buttoned with the antique buttonhook Tory had tucked into one boot.
Heidi had fashioned her hair into a chignon, a black feather tucked into it. A fake beauty mark had been added to her cheek and her eye make-up accentuated her green eyes perfectly. Though Quincy had worn red lipstick in her younger days, she hadn’t in years but seeing her lips glistening, she couldn’t help but smile.
“I was a trifle worried I’d look the fool, but now I think I’m ready,” Quincy said, turning to hug Heidi. “You are an absolute life saver.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know you’re no fool. You look fabulous and are a dream to work with. I’m yours for the weekend if you want.”
“I want,” Quincy said instantly, any hesitation over having a stranger help her dress having flown out the window within moments of putting herself into Heidi’s hands.
“Whoa,” Gary Edwards said, “isn’t that your lady?”
Henry turned and the vision in the doorway took his breath away. It was indeed Quincy though she certainly didn’t look like any lady. She was, in fact, the perfect reincarnation of every glamorous ‘fallen angel’ to have ever graced any saloon in the old west. When her eyes found him, her smile lighting her entire face, he knew he didn’t deserve such a blessing. Deserving or not, the moment he saw a man approach her, he immediately walked to intercept the interloper.
He didn’t care that he heard Gary laugh or that the man chuckled even as he put up his hands. “Sorry, Marshal, I wasn’t aware you had an assignation with the lady.”
Henry heard Quincy giggle and had to grin. Forcing himself to remember they weren’t in Corbin’s Bend and he couldn’t just grab his lady and lift that short skit and spank her for daring to dress so…so perfectly, he held out his hand to shake the stranger’s who introduced himself as Walter Stone.
“Sorry, Mr. Stone, I didn’t mean to come across so rudely. It’s just that I’ve been searching for Madam Quincy for years.”
“Oh, what has she done?” Walter asked.
“Um, I’m afraid that’s confidential, sir,” Henry improvised as he reached out to take Quincy’s hand. “Let’s just say that until we leave Durango, she’ll be in my custody.”
“Lucky man,” Walter said as he gave Quincy a nod. “Let me know if you find yourself in need of a good judge, ma’am. I have an office right down the street.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Judge Stone,” Quincy said, her lashes fluttering as she batted her eyes at him. “It’s not often a gentleman comes to the aid of a woman like me.”
“I doubt that very much,” Walter said. “Ya’ll have fun now.”
“We will,” Henry assured him and as Walter left, he pulled Quincy into his arms. “Good grief, I was about to challenge him to a gunfight! You look absolutely wickedly gorgeous.”
“Why thank you, Marshal,” Quincy said, running her fingers across the silver star affixed to his vest. “I must say you are the most handsome lawman I’ve ever seen. I love the black shirt and the scarlet kerchief. You look so… authoritative.”
Henry took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “How about I buy my lady a drink?”
“How kind. Here I was worried you’d come to tote me off to some smelly jail cell and yet you are offering me a drink. Your kindness is making my heart go pitter patter.”
Henry leaned close to whisper in her ear. “While I’m delighted to hear about your heart, I’m far more interested to know how your lady bits are doing.”
“Forget authoritative, you, sir, are dangerous!”
“You have no idea,” Henry said before tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. They both laughed as they joined the Edwards at the bar. Henry ordered her a glass of pink champagne.
“I need a shot of rotgut,” Quincy countered. “That’s what a fallen angel would have.”
“A fallen angel?” Nancy asked.
Henry shook his head and grinned as Quincy explained that was a very nice term used to refer to those women who had fallen from grace and worked in saloons to survive.
“Like serving whiskey—waitressing?” Nancy asked and her husband almost choked on the swallow he’d just taken.
“No, sweetie,” Quincy said, as she lifted her leg to hook the heel of her boot over the brass rail running along the bottom of the bar. She allowed her shawl to drop off her shoulders as she bent forward, slowly running her hand up Henry’s arm before planting a kiss on his cheek, the imprint of her lips remaining painted onto his skin. “Fallen angels were far more likely to be drinking that whiskey before falling onto their backs to service their clients.”
“Oh my,” Nancy said and then giggled. “Gary, instead of this boring old dress that makes me look like some stodgy old schoolmarm, I’m going to be a fallen angel next year. Quincy, you’ve got to tell me where you got your outfit. It’s gorgeous. Did they have one in purple? That’s my favorite color.”
Quincy explained that every outfit she’d be wearing had been custom tailored. Henry had promised to tuck a few cards into his pocket and Quincy passed one to Nancy. “Tory is the most talented designer and one of the sweetest young women you’ll ever meet.”
Henry watched as Quincy picked up his shot glass and took a sip. The moment she swallowed, he began patting her on the back as she coughed and sputtered.
“I think I’ll leave the rotgut to the real men,” she said when she caught her breath. Henry handed her the glass of pink champagne. “Besides, I do love the color pink, don’t you, Marshal?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry said, “I don’t believe there is a prettier color in the world, especially when it’s on a beautiful lady’s cheeks.” He dropped his hand to the back of her skirt and chuckled when she sputtered again and her face flushed.
They moved to the dining room for a dinner of steaks and baked potatoes before returning to the bar to dance. Quincy had another glass of champagne and Henry enjoyed watching her excitement as they met more people and discovered that they would see most of them on the train the next morning. “Speaking of trains, it pulls out early. I think it’s time we head on up to the room,” Henry said.
“So soon?” Quincy asked. “It’s early.”
“Now, ma’am, instead of complaining, I’d think you’d be more appreciative that I’ve allowed you to mingle. You are a wanted woman, after all.”
Quincy took another sip of her drink and ran her tongue along her lower lip, her eyelashes batting again. “Pardon me, Marshal, but you never told me exactly why I’m wanted.”
“Darlin’, it would take a lifetime to state every reason why I want you,” Henry said, offering her his hand and helping her from her chair after she slid her hand into his.
“I’m yours, Sir.”
“That you most certainly are.” He tipped his hat to their table companions. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Why, Marshal, do you really think it is proper for such a dedicated member of the law to conduct himself in such a manner?” Quincy teased as Henry sat on the bed and drew her over his lap within seconds of entering their room. It would have been even quicker, but he’d had her fetch her hairbrush.
“I assure you, ma’am, that I don’t give a damn what is proper. I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you stepped into that bar,” he said as he pushed her skirts and petticoats up and slid her silk bloomers down.
“Are you saying you don’t like my dress?” Quincy said as she clung to his ankle.
“Lord no, I lov
e the dress, the corset, and that petticoat,” he said as he ran his hand over her bare bottom. “I love the silky drawers. I just love my fallen angel’s bare behind even more.”
“Oh, Marshal, you have such a way with words…”
“Let me show you my way with a good old-fashioned hairbrush.” By the time he’d given her the remaining ten of today’s portion of her birthday spanking, her bottom was as red as her corset. After tucking her into bed, he set the alarm and called the front desk to schedule a wake-up call. He slid into bed beside her and grinned as he reached over to turn out the light. His angel was already sound asleep, a very contented looking smile on her face.
Chapter 12
The train trip was obviously a very popular event and it was fun to watch the people step into the ‘dressed coaches’. Their tour guide, dressed as a train engineer, had the entire car intrigued with his tale of how moonshiners had hidden in the old mines, many becoming quite rich during the years of Prohibition. They were surprised when the train came to a stop and ‘Revenue Agents’ boarded, putting on a big show of interviewing the car’s occupants, looking for those smuggling ‘white lightning’. Quincy had gasped and then giggled when they insisted in looking inside the picnic basket that Henry had tucked beneath their seat.
“Well, lookie, boys,” the agent said as he lifted a bottle from the basket. “What do we have here?”
Henry played along. “It’s just a bottle of milk from my favorite cow, Bessie.”
The man plucked an enamel cup from the basket, pried the stopper from the neck of the bottle and poured a generous dollop of liquid into the cup. Everyone within viewing distance could instantly tell that it was definitely not milk as it wasn’t white.
“Thought painting the bottle would fool us, did you?” The revenuer drained the cup, rolled his eyes and followed with an exaggerated smacking of his lips. “Unless your Bessie is a magical cow that produces ‘mountain dew’, you sir, are a bootlegger. Arrest this man.”
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