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Nightfall in Nogales by Juanita (Evi)

This story is an orphan – that is, the writer has not been active in the fandom for a long time, and the story has been rescued from the old, defunct Yahoo groups. So that we don’t lose the story entirely, we’re storing it here.

However the original author still owns this story. Should they reconnect with the fandom at some point, we will naturally respect whatever they want to do with their story.

Word Count 748

Although it was nightfall, it was still hot. Way too hot.

He’d enjoyed the bath he’d taken, even if he doubted the buzzards would ever mind a sticky and smelly dead body. Smiling bitterly at this thought, he cut across the dusty road and headed to the boarding house he checked in earlier this afternoon. 

Maybe they were already here, hiding their sorry asses somewhere, waiting for their chance to take him down. Maybe they would prefer to sneak into town in the dark of the night. He smiled again. His sleep would be shallow and he would make it hard for them to take him by surprise.

He knew the owner of the boarding house and got a room at the rear. He was told it would be much cooler there than in any of the other rooms at the front side. A good choice, he thought, as he scanned the road and the fronts of the adobe buildings, which were glowing in a deep orange, reflecting the dying sunlight. All seemed quiet, too quiet for his taste. The silvery jingling of his spurs was the only noise to be heard at this time of the day.

Tossing his hat over the bedpost after he’d entered his room, he stopped cold in his tracks. There was something wrong. The window! He hadn’t left it opened.

Too late, he noticed a shadow from the corner of his eyes and was shoved back against the door. He tried to resist.

“Stop it, hombre! And don’t try anything else,” he heard a voice say. He now had no doubt who it was. “You’ll regret it.”

He did what he was asked for, yet tried to glance over his shoulder.

“Don’t turn around, amigo!” he was told in a commanding tone. “Face to the wall and put your hands up!”

Hesitantly, he raised his arms above his head.

 “It’s time, Madrid!”

His heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath, letting it go very slowly. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in such a situation. Memories, burned deep into his mind, flowed back and materialized with a power he didn’t expect. The glistening reminiscence of not knowing what would happen next caused a hot shiver down his spine. Now, this time would be different. This time, he knew exactly what would happen. But still, he couldn’t help the tension from building in his shoulders.

“¡Buenos noches!” he muttered, smiling slightly.

“Shut up!” came the sharp answer. “Don’t wanna hear anything from you, compadre! Now drop your gunbelt very slowly!”

Breathing out slowly, he nodded, lowering his right hand.


He stopped cold.

“¡Amigo!” A low, sarcastic laughter burned his back. “Use your left, si!”

He straightened his back, unbuckling his gunbelt with his left hand as he had been ordered.

“Easy, Madrid!” the voice warned. “One false move and it’s all over!”

Warily, he laid the belt on the chair to his left, making sure the gun rested atop with the grip pointed in his direction.

“Both hands back up now!”

Without resistance, he obeyed and leaned his forehead against the cool adobe wall, feeling the heat of the body now close behind him.

“Don’t you dare move now!” The voice was low and husky, near his ear, and he knew it very well. He felt a hand firmly grasping his hair, and a hot breath over the side of his neck, causing him to shudder. “Give up!”

Dios! He felt as if he was on fire. His blood started flowing through his veins like a stream of torrid lava, ready to gush in no time.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Twilight, … the noises from outside died away. A waft of cooler air, no more than a small wind harp, blew through the opened window. The gentle breeze softly cooled his face, which was now covered in a fine coat of sweat.

Slowly closing his eyes, he felt he was ready now. Ready to let go.

The grip on his hair slackened, followed by a firm stroke down his back. Then two slender arms, embracing his abdomen, trailing downwards, causing a low moan to escape from his lips. Pressing her hot body against him, longing to touch him, her hands stroke his inner thighs to feel the burning heat in his loins, showing her how much he loved her game. Showing her how excited he really was.

The End
February, 2009



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