Pretty Poison

(brain went blank today, so it’s late and it’s short. Them’s the breaks.)

Lee Northridge had only one good thing to say about Montana: he didn’t have to change clothes. His boots, jeans, hat and sheepskin coat helped him blend right in with the locals. Only trouble was, the woman he sought dressed the same and would blend in as well.

No matter. He’d find her if he had to hit every damn bar in the state. He only had to listen for that voice.

Six counties and uncountable honky-tonks later, Lee rolled into Talbot’s Peak. Normally he would have bypassed the biker bar, but something about this one made him pull his pickup into the lot. He could picture her here, belly to the bar, or bent over a pool table with her butt in the air and that innocent, Mister, I ain’t never played this game before look on her face. You had to really listen to a woman like her. You only got the one warning before she struck.

His instincts paid off. There she was, just as he’d pictured her, hustling pool with a couple of wolf shifters. She has those old boys all turned around, batting her mile-long lashes at them while beating the pants off their asses.

He waited until she had a tricky shot lined up, then with expert timing said, “Howdy, Rosa.”

Poor girl damn near ripped the felt. Her pool cue sent balls scattering.

Instantly the wolves closed ranks to protect their new best friend. She waved them off with a careless flick of her hand. There was nothing careless about the look in her eyes. That was venom, pure and undistilled.

Lee tipped his hat. “Rosa.”

“Lee Northridge. As I live and breathe.” She nodded to the wolves. “It’s good, boys, I got this.”

The two wolves continued to glare at him. “Yell if you need a hand.”

She shrugged. She wouldn’t. He’d let her believe that. For the moment it suited him.

In the meantime, he caught his breath. Hot dayum.

Rosa Terranova hadn’t changed a hair in the year in a half she’d been gone. Still all curves and glossy hair and hips a man wanted to take hold of and a body that begged to be dragged against a man, or pressed again a wall, or bent over a barstool. She could handle ‘em all. Sidewinders were limber as all get out, and they liked a rough, hard ride. Too bad the second you turned your back, they sank their fangs into your neck.

Rosa bared those white, shiny teeth at him now. “I’ll save you the trouble, sugah. I don’t have it. It’s gone.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth, for once. If you came all the way to Montana for your brother’s money, you just wasted a road trip.”

She started to undulate away. Lee grabbed her arm. She turned on him in a flash, her red lips pulled back to let a hiss escape. The bracelets adorning her arms rattled a warning.

“What if I told you,” he hissed back at her, “that I wasn’t after the money?”

“Then you still wasted your time.” Rosa shook him off with ease. She’d always been stronger than she looked. “Hit the road, sugah. You ain’t wanted here.”

Rosa glided away without a backward glance. Lee started after her, but the wolves got in the way. He backed off. He knew where she was now. He could bide his time. But he wouldn’t bide long.

Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?

Why did it have to be her?

From the shadowed corner of the shifter biker bar...

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Good news on the editing front for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS. Right now, I'm down to the last chapter and a half. Then, the challenge will be formatting.

Hey, who knows, maybe miracles will occur, and all will go smoothly. An Indie author can dream, anyway.

Although, I am looking forward... actually, jumping up and down ecstatically... to finally offering a ShapeShifter Presents Erotic Romance Novel. 'Cause, I loved penning this menage love story. And, I love our shapeshifter and supernatural cast of characters here in the Peak. 

Sadly, this year, we're not part of a St. Paddy's Day blog hop. So, here's wishing you a Happy Wearin' of the Green!

So, kudos to Pat on her flash scene from yesterday. But, what happens after ex-Mayor Link earns the title of Deep Throat?
~~~~~~

From the shadowed corner of the shifter biker bar...

From the shadowed corner of the shifter biker bar, Zryker observed the drunken, high-spirited craziness. Amused in a twisty bent way by the banana-dildo contest he'd just witnessed, Zryker settled back, while telling his cock to quit imitating a big banana. It wasn't getting un-peeled anytime soon.

Not with his current, big-reward arrangement. Recover the stolen goods, and return to the desperate owner with no fuss, no muss. And no prosecution of the thief.

Therein, lay the obstacle. The unidentified thief had proven so elusive, the trail so diabolically serpentine, Zryker was down to one possible lead.  Rosa Terranova had bolted fast from Amarillo, like the snake roundup hunters were about to grab her tail and bag her.

He knew for certain she hadn't committed the crime, given her whereabouts could be accounted for -- some sort of ebook expo. Zryker happened to be present in the hole-in-the-wall snake shifter hangout, when Rosa had hip-rolling slithered inside -- shortly after the heist.

Liking her style, Zryker had surreptitiously watched Rosa snack on mice bonbons, her nose buried in her e-reader. He knew her by reputation, given the number of husbands she'd disposed of... not that he blamed her.

One or all of her ex-husbands could have creepy-crawled inside the mansion... and, well, hell hoot 'n holler... swallowed the owner's priceless heirloom collection... then shapeshifted to human, and answered the call of nature.

Zryker propped his boot on the opposite chair, and coiled his human fingers around his tall warm glass of southwest pinon ale. He downed a few swallows while keeping a covert eye on that sexy sinuous babe, Ms. Sugah, herself.

He also waited to see what would happen now that the ex-mayor had earned the dubious title of Deep Throat. Talbot's Peak was one kickin' hoot of a town, as he'd discovered since arriving a couple of weeks ago.

After tracking Rosa to her new position with the library, Zryker had soon discovered she wasn't talking about nothin' nohow, when it came to Amarillo, and her past. No matter his smooth charmin' approach. And not even for a price. A big price.

Either someone had her damn good and scared. Or she was protecting the son of a viper. Or... various scenarios flashed through his mind as he quaffed his ale.

Zryker hadn't been able to get a Spock-like mind-hold on Ms. Sugah either. Her mental shields had slammed him out. But, now that she'd been drinking freely, his chances just might be improved.

If he could get her talking, or slip his way inside her mind... Zryker sure didn't want to use his rattler fangs on her... numb her a bit, then mind-lock with her.

He did own some honor, despite being a real sidewinder. Zryker grinned to himself, and drained his ale. Besides, he owned a certain fondness for Rosa, more for her flamboyant personality than wanting his lusty snake between her thighs. Not that he wouldn't oblige if...

Zryker eyed Lamar's swishy undulating approach. So far, he'd stayed down range  of the boa constrictor, but seemingly his luck had run its course on that front.

“Hola, stranger. Don't we have some scales in common?” Lamar seated himself without ceremony, and offered his hand.

"Scales, right. But you squeeze and I poison." Zryker gripped his hand, careful not to make it a strength contest. "Lamar, isn't it? Yeah, I'm new in town. Zryker is the handle. Rattlesnake is the species."

"Noticed you eyeing the slinky, banana-sucking queen of the hour. Just made Ms. Rosa's acquaintance myself. You two have a romantic history, a love unrequited thing?"

"Nope. She has some info I need. Think of me as a private dick." Zryker figured there was no point in saying anything else.

"But not a dick interested in going down on my dick, if I'm reading your preference right, chico."

"You're reading me right, Balboa. You're also cramping my style...at the moment."

"He cramps everybody's style." The wolf shifter gave Zryker an apologetic grin. "Come on, I'm getting lonely... drinking alone. Rufus has been eyeing my ass..."

"Got the message, lover." Lamar uncoiled smoothly, springing from his chair. "Later, private dick."

Zryker grinned widely instead of answering. He stilled as ripples of awareness rolled over his skin and his inner scales.

At first, he couldn't determine if an enemy stalked him... or, oh holy ice water, not her.

"Diamondback scum," the woman's rich melodic voice cursed him. As well it should.
 
At least, from her scorned point of view. Even though, she'd been barely sixteen at the time. And he'd left because he was a gentleman, when it came to not taking advantage of a lady.

"Santoza, fancy meeting you here in a bad girl's bar. What would your family say?"

"Hiss, hiss, snake boy. Get ready to rumble and make like a caduceus. I'm about to twist the life out of that devil-horny hide of yours."

"Wanna play Twister, do you, babe? I've got the perfect Garden of Eden, if you're..." 

From the corner of his eye, Zryker watched her launch at him like an enraged cobra. Okay, granted, she was a cobra shapeshifter.

She hit him full on, and Zryker wrapped his arms around her tight. The chair slid against the wall, then creaked loudly as she writhed with a fury that caught him off guard.

Freeing one arm, she pummeled him with her fist while trying to wind around him, and choke off his air. The chair rocked precariously.

When her undulating attack didn't cease, one leg of the chair buckled under their weight. They crashed to floor, rolling and twining in the spilled beer, on top of the peanut shells.

"It must be a lover's spat," Zryker heard Lamar shout like a circus ringmaster. "Place your bets here, chicas and chicos. Does she win? Or does he?"
~~~~~~

 
~ Have a Magickal Week and St. Patrick's Day ~ 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Down the Hatch

You know how it starts: it’s Saturday night, and there’s this bar with a bunch of drunks in it, and one of them makes some grandiose claim, somebody scoffs, then suddenly money’s exchanging hands and the bets are on. Nobody ever really cares if the claimant can come through. What matters is, somebody’s going to have to pay for a free round of drinks when it’s over, and it’s not going to be you.

On this particular Saturday the bar in question was Dante’s, the drunks were a bunch of rowdy shapeshifters, and the poor schmuck only now realizing he’d just stuck his ass—and his tab—in a bear trap was Lamar Balboa. “A moose?” he’d called out only moments before. “Hell yeah, I can deep-throat a moose. I can deep-throat anything. There’s not a man, woman, bi or undecided who can take in more than I can.”

“Oh yeah?” And with those two words, the traditional throw-down to any and all braggarts, the bet was on.

Somebody dashed to the kitchen and came back with an armful of the longest, plumpest bananas Chiquita had to offer. “You could choke a horse with one of these,” the server said. “I think we did, last week.”

Lamar glanced over at his partner, Jamie. The red wolf sat shaking his head. “Look on the bright side,” Lamar whispered. “I won’t have to demonstrate on you.”

Jamie glowered up at him. “I am so relieved.

“Hola!” Lamar snapped an eight-inch ‘nana off the bunch and held it aloft. “Who wants to try me first?”

A woman stepped forward, and the crowd ooh’d. Evie St. John was the town librarian, and a coyote. Coyote flexibility was legendary. But esophageal capacity? That had never been tested before.

Evie plucked the banana from Lamar’s hand with a wide, challenging smile. “Watch and learn, little boy,” she purred.

A quick snap and a trio of slo-mo, deliberate tugs and Evie had the stiff, denuded fruit lying across her palm. “Sure, you can strip it,” Lamar scoffed, “but can you make it disappear?”

In response, Evie tipped back her head as if about to howl. She slid the banana past her porn-star lips. The canines in the crowd did howl as inch after inch of pale pulp vanished down her throat. And then—

“Ha!” Lamar crowed. “She bit it! Look!”

“Yeah.” That was Grayson Chase, the wolf EMT. His face was unreadable, his pants an open book. “Coyotes do that.”

The server with the bunch provided the measurements. “Six out of eight.” A cheer went up from the males in attendance. The females muttered quietly and scoffed loudly. The server selected a banana of similar dimensions and passed it to Lamar. “You’re up.”

“My natural state.” He peeled the fruit, then licked it. “Gotta get it nice and slick.”

Jamie groaned. “I don’t know you.”

Down, down the banana went, into Lamar’s seemingly bottomless throat. All eight inches disappeared. He drew it back out halfway, teased the crowd with it, then eased it back in all the way. One gulp and it was gone.

“He swallows,” somebody in the back said loudly. “Tolja.”

“Drinks are on the coyote,” Lamar announced. “I’ll have a—”

“Just a minute.” Evie stepped forward. “He cheated. He unhinged his jaw. I was watching.”

“Well, yeah. That’s how we swallow. It’s a snake thing.”

“So if you had a rigid jaw like the rest of us, you couldn’t take that much in.”

“I can’t help it if you mammals are handicapped. Tell you what: you find me a she-snake and I’ll go up against her. Then we’ll see.”

“Right here, sugah.”

The whole crowd turned in one enormous wave with Lamar at its apex. Rosa Terranova undulated through the tight-packed mass of drunken bodies without touching a one. Five feet, eight inches of Texas sidewinder up from Amarillo. It was rumored her cowboy boots were fashioned from the skin of one of her many ex-husbands.

Lamar gulped audibly.

Rosa fit her hands around twin seven-inchers and snapped them free of the bunch. She tossed one carelessly to Lamar. “First one to get it all the way down—”

“And back up—”

She nodded. “And back up and down again, wins it.” She flashed a poisonous grin at Lamar. “Ready when you are, sugah.”

The server called the count. Twin bananas slid full-length down serpentine throats. Were drawn back up. Were plunged back in to the hilt. The crowd sighed its satisfaction.

All but one. “What the hell does that prove?” former mayor Lance Link bellowed from his stool at the bar. “They both unhooked their jaws. Either one of ’em could swallow a bus, they do that.”

Lamar squinted at him. “Lance? Since when does he hang out here?”

“Since his wife left him,” the server murmured. “He practically lives at the Pleasure Club.”

Muttering, Lance shoved away from the bar and lurched his way up to the stage. He grabbed the remnants of the bunch away from the server. “Out’a the way, amateurs. Let an expert show you how it’s done.”

Snap. One banana broken free. Peeled. Shoved whole into a wide mouth that didn’t need to bother with such pansy actions as jaw-unhinging. Down and gone without a blink. Then another. Then another. Six inches, seven, eight, and the one runty fiver from the bottom. All vanished unbroken down Link’s endless throat without so much as a hitch.

For the first time all night, the bar went totally silent.

“Jesu Cristo,” Lamar breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Not even in Ed’s movies. Mr. ex-Mayor, I bow to you and your superior skills. You’re the best deep-throater in Talbot’s Peak.”

“Deep throat?” Lance cried, appalled. “I thought it was a banana-eating contest.”

Welcome to the Year of the Snake... or, Lamar's Year

Art by Rebecca Gillan ~ Jamie and Lamar, as his snake self.

Originally posted at my Kougar Kisses blog. 

 
This was a cool presentation of the Chinese Year of the Water Snake...

Chinese Astrology from COAST TO COAST AM ~ coasttocoastam.com/show/2013/02/08~

In the first half of the program, George Noory welcomed author and astrologer Donna Stellhorn ~2013chineseastrology.com~ who offered Chinese horoscope predictions for 2013 – the Year of the Snake. In addition to the 12 animals of the Chinese Zodiac, each year is also represented by one of four elements. This year the element is water, which when combined with the snake's fiery energy yields conflict, Stellhorn explained. In the past snake years have had a lot of disasters, she revealed, citing the World Trade Center attack in 2001, the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, the U.S. entering World War II in 1941, and the stock market crash of 1929. According to Stellhorn, the principle of Chinese Astrology is to identify what one can expect in a given year and then alter the environment using the principles of Feng Shui to increase luck. Simply by moving objects around, the subconscious reacts and we can see things differently and avoid danger, she said.

Stellhorn foresees a challenging time ahead for boars, cautioning against speculation this year and urging boars to protect their homes with an 8-sided mirror placed by the front door. Rats can attract opportunities by getting a new 'welcome' mat and oxen should hang an ocean picture to bring in better relationships and business contacts, she advised. Tigers can find dependable relationships by putting something that represents love in the bedroom and rabbits can bring in opportunity be hanging wind chimes outside, Stellhorn continued. The dragon's year is ending, so Stellhorn prescribed creating a restful and healing environment with plants. This is the year for snakes to try new things and they should hang an eclipse symbol for luck, she suggested. Stellhorn explained that horses will need to get rid of clutter and use fountains to create flow, and rams will want to attract healthy love relationships by adding the color red to the bedroom. She recommended monkeys stay grounded in this cautious snake year by wearing a gemstone called Citrine, dogs protect themselves with foo dog statues outside the home, while roosters should get out and travel in what will be a very lucky year for them.
~~~~~~ 

New Moon in Aquarius ~ Year of the Water Snake... okay, so far, it looks as though the coming year will be volatile and slippery... a takedown match between those of true wisdom and those who possess sly cunning... or perhaps, also described as a lightsword-rematch between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader.

With the new moon in Aquarius, and given we now walk in the Age of Aquarius... all things will be new, or made anew during the following year... that's the golden opportunity and the great challenge before each one of us, and before humanity as a whole.

The old structures of society are crumbling into eventual dust. As has been said by the Kougaress and others, to paraphrase: the choice becomes a renaissance paradise or another soul-stealing dark ages.

Will it be real honest-to-goodness freedom? Or will it be the black-hearted tyranny of the new world order crowd? In truth, the wildfires of freedom now sweep across the world, and are unstoppable. However, will these liberty fires continue to blaze ever more brightly, or be constantly crushed beneath the leviathan boot heel of the global soulless ones?

That becomes the choice. Our choice as individuals. And our collective choice.
~~~~~~


~ Have a Magickal New Year of the Snake ~ 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~