by Tabor Evans
She lit another candle, and by its light they walked down a hallway to a room that turned out to be Alex Starbuck's study. Fine leather-upholstered armchairs and sofas furnished the big room. The walls were lined with book-laden shelves and glass-windowed cabinets of gleaming, expensive firearms. In the air was the cherry scent of aromatic pipe tobacco. Longarm didn't have to ask to know that the humidor would be regularly replaced to keep that scent fresh and strong. This was Alex Starbuck's room. It always would be, while this house stood…
Jessica went to a shelf and removed a leatherbound volume. Wedged in its pages was a small key. This she took to an old, scarred, and battered oak desk. Its massive bulk dominated the room.
"This white elephant was the first desk my father owned," she said fondly. "He bought it secondhand, when he'd just started out. Then, it was all he could afford. He never used another. It was shipped here from San Francisco when we moved to Texas." She took a small, black leatherbound notebook out of the opened drawer. "With the exceptions of the circumstances surrounding my mother's death, and the fact that my father knew what sort of cargo the Europeans wanted to ship in his clippers, the history of my father's business was known to me since my adolescence. My father felt I had to understand its birthing if I was someday to run the empire. While on his deathbed, he told me about the slaves, about my mother, and about this book."
She handed it to Longarm. Inside, written in a careful hand, were a series of names and places. Beneath each heading, cryptic notes detailed that individual's business or position in government.
"After my father had returned from Europe, he waited for his enemies to retaliate. He hired private detectives on both sides of the Atlantic to ferret out the links between his enemies in Europe and their minions in this country. He wanted plenty of targets, you see, and he wanted his enemies to know that he was collecting such potential targets. This was the only way he had to protect me. It was his hope that his enemies would think twice about striking at his child if they knew that Alex Starbuck had tracked down their children, as well as their vital interests — both legal and illegal — in America."
"These European folks have illegal operations in America?" Longarm asked sharply.
"Through blackmail alone they own lawmen, congressmen, business tycoons…" She stopped, and grinned from ear to ear. Holding out her hand, she said. "Give it back, Mr. Longarm of the law."
Like a cat watching a canary get locked up in its cage, Longarm watched the black book get locked back up in its drawer. "Reckon I would need a court order to confiscate that juicy little diary." He was joking, but his tone was rueful.
"Reckon you would. Marshal," Jessie mimicked, giving his bare belly a playful poke. "But don't you see? Even if you did have the book, it would be useless to you. The men and women in it are above the law."
"Nobody's above the law. I told you that once. Longarm growled. He'd have been growing hot under the collar, if he'd been wearing one.
"Damn it, Marshal," she argued, "in many cases, the folks I'm going to track down write the laws!"
Longarm stood silent, his hands on his hips. "You can't be judge and jury all by yourself. It doesn't matter what your father did in Europe…"
"It does matter!" Jessie insisted. "It was the only thing he could do. Answer me truthfully. How long would you be a federal marshal, how long would your superior back in Denver keep his badge, if you started sniffing around the tracks of a crooked congressman?" She gave him a second to ponder that, then said, "Come on, Longarm, let's get ourselves a nightcap."
Back on the sofa by the fireplace, with snifters of brandy before them, Longarm added, "What you do concerning that book of names is none of my concern. But remember that I've warned you once that while I'm investigating the murder of your father, you're to stay out of the way and let me do the dirty work."
"And I've said that your point was clear to me."
"Fine," Longarm said. "How do you know those names in that book are even current?"
"Well, as I told you, there was no retaliation from abroad, so my father was content to let things rest. Losing my mother tore a whole lot out of him — out of his spirit, and he had me to contend with. Anyway, he kept his detectives on the case through the years. Up until his death he kept crossing out those who had died, adding in those newly recruited. I've kept the investigators on the payroll. Now their reports will come to me."
Longarm nodded. He yawned and stretched. It was late, and his body was thick with sleep, but his mind was wide awake. He needed sleep, knew he ought to get some, for tomorrow promised a hard day of riding to find Willie, the only witness to the Starbuck shooting. The old hand was acting as cook for a bunch of Circle-Star hands rounding up a distant herd on Starbuck land.
"What's wrong?" Jessica suddenly asked.
"Who said anything's wrong?" he smiled.
"You did," she said. "You told me something was wrong in the way your voice sounded when you called down to me from the second floor. Your eyes told me something was wrong when I first looked into them tonight. You've no shirt on, so I could see the tension in your body." She smiled warmly. "You see, Longarm? You're telling me something is wrong in every way possible, without actually using words."
He shook his head in wonder. "Damn, woman. What a lawman you'd have made."
Jessie slid off the sofa to kneel on the soft fur rug in front of the fireplace. "Come, lie down on your stomach, here, on the rug. Let's see if I can rub the tension out of your shoulders."
Jessica, beside him, ran her fingers along the taut cords of his neck. With a feathery touch, she first stroked, then gently kneaded the thick masses of muscle and sinew padding his shoulders and upper arms. "Relax," she crooned, bending to him so that her lips were just inches away from the shell of his ear.
Longarm tried, but it was no use. A new worry was nagging at him…
Jessica sat back crosslegged. "You're too strong for me," she scolded lightly. "Your muscles are too developed for me to force them to relax." She raised one leg and bent it at the knee. The gown fell open, revealing the splendid curve of her thigh and calf.
Longarm colored, but her beauty was such that he could not look away. If only…
Sensing his unease, Jessica covered up. "Have I offended you?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," he said forcefully. "Hardly that. I think you're lovely, and what I'd most like to do is slide that silk thing off you and start rubbing the tension out of you. It's just that…"
"What?" Jessica demanded.
"It just doesn't seem right." He glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. "I mean, with your mother looking down on us and all."
Jessica laughed in delight. "You really are a samurai! Gallant, and a gentleman to the very core!"
"I don't see what's so funny," Longarm said, disgruntled. "Just because a man has a sense of what's right and wrong…"
"Hush," she giggled, pressing her finger to his lips, and then, as if to make sure he obeyed, she pecked a cool, delicious kiss against his mouth. "Lie back down. On your stomach. That's an order," she said sternly.
Longarm obeyed, somehow not at all surprised by the fact that Jessie was unbuttoning his trousers and then peeling them down over his buttocks, past his thighs, and then off. He heard a soft rustling sound, and turned his head to see the silken gown fall to the floor, the folds dropping in on themselves so that the garment resembled a stream of plum-colored liquid splashing down. When he tried to look at Jessica, she placed a hand on either side of his head, her palms acting like blinders.
"No, you're not to look at me. Not until I give you permission," she teased. "You must lie on your stomach with your eyes closed while I massage your back. Just relax and listen to what I have to tell you."
Longarm felt his erection grow rock hard, and his heart begin to pound, as Jessica straddled him. She gave her bottom a little shake as she settled down on the small of his back, light as a butterfly. As her fingers began to do their dance down along his should
ers and spine, Longarm became mad with passion. Her trick of touching him without letting him see her had a way of driving a man loco! Where had she ever learned such a wonderful love-game?
"I've told you that my parents were unusual people," Jessica said. "Part of that came from their love of the Orient. They had always planned to retire in the Japans someday, but after my mother was killed, my father knew that to return there without her would be much too painful. What he decided to do was bring a bit of the Japans to America. Instead of hiring an American woman to be the ranch's housekeeper and my nanny, he arranged for Myobu to come to our country, and to take over those duties."
Longarm thought of the small old woman, so graceful and polite, who had prepared and served the fine dinner earlier in the evening. "Did your father know her?" he asked.
"In a manner of speaking," Jessica laughed. "Longarm, do you know what a geisha is?"
Longarm chose his words carefully. "Reckon you might describe one as a very high-priced, uh, lady of the night."
"A courtesan, to be sure," Jessie agreed in amusement, "but please understand that things in the Orient are not the same as they are in America. In the Japans, body and soul are not considered two separate things. Here, women are hired by men to tend only to their physical cravings. In the Japans, geishas cater to men's bodies, but also to their souls. The word geisha best translates as 'artist.' She is trained from childhood to be skilled in music, art. and literature, the preparation and serving of fine food, and finally, if she has proven herself worthy, she is taught the skills and abilities that are the keys to a man's soul. A geisha is not only an artist, but also a sort of priestess. Through her body, a man can experience enlightenment. For the brief time a man spends with a geisha, he is one with the universe. This frees the geisha's soul, as well."
"And Myobu was such an… artist?" Longarm marveled.
"Many years ago, she was one of the most famous geishas in the Japans." Jessie told him. "She had an honored place in the Emperor's court. She was one of the most powerful women in that nation."
"Do geishas become rich?"
"Oh, yes," Jessica said, her fingers rubbing the last drops of tension out of Longarm's body. "And along with monetary wealth comes public respect, and a high, honored place in society."
"Then forgive me for saying so," Longarm frowned, "but it strikes me as powerful sad that such a woman has to end her life as a housekeeper, happy as she is here, I'm sure…"
"Oh, she didn't have to, Longarm," Jessie explained. "She still has her wealth, most of it transferred to this country. She could live well, anywhere in the world."
"Then why did she choose to become a housekeeper and nanny for a Texas tycoon and his daughter?"
"During the time he was in the Japans, long before he met my mother, Myobu was my father's geisha. During their time together, she guided my father as he melded his mind and spirit into what we in this country call our soul, and then she guided him through the process in which the soul and physical body become one. That is enlightenment. In addition, Myobu, who already had extensive business holdings, taught my father much that was to help him later on, while building his own business in his own country."
"I still don't understand," Longarm interrupted. "If all that's so, why did she consent to work for him?"
"After my mother was killed, my father wrote to Myobu. She was older, and her time of being an active geisha was coming to an end. In the Japans, it is traditional for such an older woman to open a ryu, a school in which worthy young girls are initiated and then taught the various aspects of becoming geishas. My father explained to Myobu that he would never again marry, which meant that I was to be the sole heir to all of his holdings. Accordingly he wanted me to have the benefit of the finest education in the world. That meant tutors and, later on, university schooling, but it also meant that from childhood on, I was to have that special guidance that would allow my soul to blossom, and later to join together with my body — guidance and training that would prepare me for the awesome responsibility of ruling the Starbuck empire. Myobu considered herself my father's mentor. When his request came to her, she considered it her destiny, her karma, to accept. She had favored the father who built the empire, thereby beginning the circle. Now she would train the daughter who would complete the circle. The chance to do such a thing, the honor to do such a thing, could only come to a geisha as fine as Myobu."
"But to do the cooking and cleaning…" Longarm shook his head, perplexed.
"Don't you try to look at me yet," Jessica warned him as she slid down to straddle his thighs. Gently she caressed his lower back, her touch now sending velvety pulses of pleasure through his body. How he longed to turn her over and kiss her! But he didn't move.
"A true geisha will cook and clean as expertly as she will play an instrument or manage her business affairs," Jessica was murmuring. "She doesn't concern herself with the relative status of a task. All tasks that are honestly performed will bring honor. A geisha is an artist, and life is her art form."
"Earlier you told me that women weren't meant for hate but for love…" Longarm started to say, but Jessica cut him off.
"I've been given a very different, special sort of destiny. There is the art of negotiating one's way through the world, and the art of loving one's way through it. In these two aspects of life, Myobu has trained me well. I am a geisha." She slid off his legs, her hands now guiding him over onto his back so that he could see her.
Longarm gazed at her lovely features, suffused with passion. By the flickering candle glow he watched the nipples of her full, lush breasts tighten, as if they could actually feel his eyes' loving caress.
He reached out for her, his fingers gently locking about her arms, and pulled her down upon him. As she let herself fall, she dipped her head so that her shimmering tresses brushed across his chest. The touch was like fire, but a pleasurable fire. The gold-and-red tendrils of her hair sparked desire so strong it made Longarm throb with anticipation.
As they kissed, Jessica pressed her soft, flat belly against his erection, blanketing it with sweet warmth. She slid up to lock and squeeze his member between her thighs, allowing him to touch and tease her center, but never quite enter. She planted a hand on either side of him to support herself, and stretched and arched her back, catlike, brushing her pubic hair against him again and again. Her teasing forced him to grow harder, to swell and swell.
"Do you feel what is happening?" Jessica breathed into his ear between long, wet kisses. "Do you feel it?"
Longarm felt himself grow dizzy. Up above, their tongues were intertwined, and down below, his erection was kissing the moist folds between her thighs. Between one kiss and the next, Longarm rolled over onto his side. He pulled Jessie in tight against him, and buried his face in her mass of fragrant hair, his palm gliding the length of her curled body. Her skin was far softer than even the silk robe she had worn. His fingers rode up the curve of her hip, to cup and stroke the hemispheres of her buttocks.
"Lord above, woman," Longarm gasped. "What fine tricks Myobu has taught you."
"There are no tricks, silly," Jessica laughed. She watched his face as she licked and lightly bit his nipples. Her fingers stroked his erection and cupped his scrotum, making him moan. "The geisha's art lies not in knowing how to play tricks, but in knowing how to surrender."
Longarm buried his face in the warm valley between her breasts. He inhaled her woman-scent. He flicked his tongue around and around the dark rosettes of her breasts. Quickly he moved from one to the other, at first licking and sucking, and then using his teeth to barely rake her swollen nipples, until her pleasured purr rose to a sob of joy.
Jessica's legs parted then, and as she roiled over onto her back, she drew him into her. They moved flesh against flesh, sliding and rocking together against the soft fur of the rug. Longarm kept her cradled in his arms as he swung his hips up and then plunged down, each thrust seeming to take him deeper and deeper. It went on like this for long minutes.
All barriers between them now fell. Neither had any thoughts, but lived only in those parts of their bodies that touched. Those were the only parts that mattered.
Longarm slowed his movements each time he felt his orgasm growing near. Jessica rubbed her bottom against the rug as her inner muscles squeezed against him. Finally, moaning uncontrollably, she dug her fingers into Longarm's buttocks and pressed him in to the hilt, all the while gyrating her hips in an endless circle. Helpless in that luscious embrace, Longarm fell his orgasm build and build until it burst forth. At that moment, Jessica locked her mouth to his as she came, so that their love-cries were exchanged as their kisses had been.
Longarm stayed nested inside her as they talked, punctuating each exchange with kisses. Soon her silken, rippling contractions brought him blossoming forth, newly hard, and more ravenous for her than he had been before. This time their lovemaking was slow and playful — after all, now they were old friends. They exchanged gifts of love. Jessie gloated each time she was able to make him beg for mercy, for a moment's rest. This time when they came, Jessie threw her legs up around Longarm's back. His fire spread into and through her in ever-widening circles. Waves of rapture washed over her, her eyelids fluttered, and her mouth formed a perfect circle. She clutched at Longarm like a woman about to drown, and she didn't let go until he had carried her to their passion's limit.
They had only a few hours until dawn, so they went up the stairs to Jessica's bedroom, to sleep wrapped in each other's arms. As Longarm dropped off, while his lips nibbled absentminded kisses across the nape of Jessie's neck, he thought of the diminutive, elderly Myobu, of her small round face, cracked and yellowed like ancient porcelain. He thought of her laugh, tinkling like wind chimes, and of her eyes flashing brightly, like those of a young girl's.
