Wildcats of the West, Episode #1: Saloon Brawl

By Gark

[Setting: St. Louis, MO. - early evening, a high-stakes poker game within a saloon during the summer of 1870]

The beautiful brunette rested her ample cleavage seductively atop the poker table as she pondered her next move. The evening sun played upon her prominently displayed breasts, literally bulging forth from within the confines of her fancy, white-laced, low-cut fiery red dress. The other poker players, all males, tried very hard not to notice the woman’s plentiful assets, but failed nonetheless. Now only partly intent upon their cards, they stole the occasional glance at the beautiful woman’s wares. But they were also aware of the woman’s reputation, having heard tales of her powerful legs… squeezing upon a man’s waist whilst she… well, they could only imagine…

But that was all they knew, as none of the three men had ever been ‘with her’ to find out more. And they also knew of her reputation at poker, although she didn’t seem to be having much luck tonight, as only a few chips remained in front of her.

Melissa Moon had dealt the hand. Now it was up to Bart. “I’m bettin’ you got nuttin, darlin. I’ll raise you three hundred,” he chuckled, tossing the additional chips into the pot.

Mel smiled slyly, “You’re welcome to think what you may. But I doubt Wyatt and Ethan agree with you.” At that she raised her ample chest off the table and leaned back in her chair.

Wyatt gulped deeply, having obvious difficulty concentrating. Finally, he managed to croak, “I’ll see that… and raise you another two hundred.”

Ethan eyed the woman shrewdly. “I think Bart’s right, you’re bluffing. I’ll see that and raise another two hundred. It’s seven to you Melissa. Unless you got more chips somewhere, I think you’re out of dough.”

“You men seem to have cleaned me out,” she replied coyly. “There must be at least three thousand dollars in the pot, and I’ve nothing left with which to wager… except… possibly… my ‘virtue’.”

The three men’s jaws dropped slack in unison at the proposition. Sam, the bartender was watching everything from his perch at the end of the bar. He’d heard the whole thing, marveling at the men’s good fortunes. Or was it good fortune, he wondered silently? The woman was obviously an operator. Bart, Wyatt and Ethan had best take care, but he remained silent all the same.

“Yes gentlemen. I’m willing to wager my ‘virtue’ against all of your remaining chips on this one last hand. Now who wants to ante up?” asked Mel innocently. “Whoever prevails, wins my ‘virtue’ for the evening.”

Not being a part of the big game, Sam had managed to keep a level head. Something didn’t smell right about the game. He just didn’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t the heavy cigar smoke that clouded the room. The beautiful woman was dealer this hand, and to the best of his practiced eye, she’d not been cheating. Her sleeves weren’t long enough to hide any cards. Why was she so confident?

Bart decided quickly. “All righty pretty lady. I still think you’re bluffing. I’ll see that bet. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your ‘virtue’,” he cackled gleefully, sliding all of his chips to the center of the table, clearly confident of his chances.

“Well thank you Bart. You are such a gentleman!” she smiled. “How about you, Wyatt?”

Wyatt fumbled nervously, unable to decide. Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but the possibility of winning the beautiful woman’s virtue was too great to pass by. “All right Melissa,” he grinned despite being short a few front teeth. “I’m in!” He pushed his chips to the center, too.

Mel turned her gaze upon Ethan. “What about you Ethan? Do you want a chance at winning my ‘virtue’, too?” she asked. “You need to decide. I haven’t all night. I’m planning to continue my journey to San Francisco first thing in the morning.”

Ethan smiled knowingly, “Don’t worry lady. Me and your ‘virtue’ will have plenty of time tonight… there ain’t no chance to it. This here hand’s a sure winner.” Ethan shoved all of his chips to the center, too. The pile of chips was enormous!

Sam knew that several thousand dollars were at stake, as he held each player’s money in the saloon’s safe, covering the value of the chips on the table. Instinctively, he knew Melissa was ‘playing’ the three men, but there was no reason to interfere; he’d witnessed no cheating of any sort. The men should be able take care of themselves, Sam reasoned. And if not, this game would be a learning experience for the bunch of them.

A woman at a nearby table signaled Sam for another sarsaparilla. She’d been carefully watching the proceedings of the big poker game for about 30 minutes. Wearing a dusty, plain looking, off-white dress, no one had paid much attention to her. Sam poured the woman a refill and sent it over.

“All right, gentlemen, if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” grinned Mel.

Bart went first, obviously very pleased to hold such a hand in a game of straight poker. “Read ‘em and weep,” he cackled gleefully towards Melissa. “Three Jacks!!”

“That’s too bad Bart, I got that beat,” chuckled Wyatt. “Looks like the little lady’s ‘virtue’ belongs to me; full house, ten’s over deuces!!”

Wyatt was about to rise and claim his prize, but Ethan stopped him cold. “Hold yer hosses, Wyatt!” he quipped. “It looks like I’m the lucky one tonight!!” Ethan laid down his cards. “Full house, ace’s over three’s!! Beat that if you can,” he guffawed in Melissa’s general direction.

Now Sam was certain. The poker hands were too perfect, but the game looked clean. He knew what was coming next, but what could he do other than stay out of it?

“Very impressive hands, gentlemen, very impressive indeed,” chortled Mel. “But even though I’d certainly enjoy losing my virtue to any one of you, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen this evening.”

She laid down her cards, one at a time. The first was a seven, and then a Queen, and another Queen and yet another. The three men held their collective breath as the last card was placed face up before them.

“Four queens gentlemen. I’d like to thank you all for a fine game, but I really must be leaving,” smiled Melissa cheerfully.

At first, the three men seemed unsure. Then several hands reached under the table towards their gun belts. But the loud clicking of a shotgun being cocked behind them halted all of those thoughts. “I watched the whole thing,” shouted Sam loudly. “As amazing as it seems, the little lady won fair and square. I want you poor losers to drop your gun belts and kick them towards the bar. You all should have known better!” he chided.

Bart, Wyatt and Ethan dropped their weapons without further fuss, kicking them over towards Sam, each painfully ashamed of the thought of drawing arms against a woman, and an unarmed one at that.

“Heck Sam, we weren’t really gonna…” started Bart.

“Right,” echoed Wyatt and Ethan.

“I believe ya fella’s,” replied Sam unconvincingly. “C’mon. Belly up to the bar. Drinks are on me,” he grinned, neatly defusing the situation, knowing he’d receive a healthy cut from Melissa for his assistance.

The men stepped up to the bar, each resting a weary bottom upon a vacant barstool. As Sam set down whiskeys in front the three beaten men, Melissa gathered the chips in a satchel. No one paid any attention to the woman at the next table. She drained the remainder of her sarsaparilla, stood and walked resolutely towards Melissa, finally coming to a stop in front of the table, opposite Melissa.

“Melissa Moon?” called out the woman loudly, knowing full well to whom she was addressing.

“Yes. And who might you be?” replied Mel evenly, looking the newcomer over from head to toe.

“The name’s Perkins… Polly Perkins,” she answered defiantly. “I would think that’d mean somethin’ to ya!”

By now, everyone in the saloon was watching the two women. “I’m afraid it doesn’t Polly,” replied Melissa smoothly.

“You cheated my man… took all our money,” shouted Polly. “And I’m callin’ you out!”

Every last person in the saloon, including Melissa, ducked down, fearing an outburst of gunfire. But Polly just stood there, oblivious to the words she had just uttered.

After a few moments, Mel poked her head up from below the edge of the table. “Polly, do you have a gun?” asked Melissa politely.

“Um, no… never believed in ‘em,” she replied.

“Just what I wanted to hear,” grinned Melissa, suddenly whipping the table off its legs towards Polly.

The wildly careening table bowled Polly over. Melissa flew at her like a tigress and Polly soon found herself on the floor in a wild female fight. Polly hadn’t realized the consequences of the confrontation, assuming she’d simply escort Melissa to the sheriff’s office. But now Polly was tangled up with this hellcat of a woman, kicking and scratching at each other.

Polly’s back was to the floor and Melissa was above, slapping her in the face. Polly blocked, then grabbed Melissa’s long tresses and yanked her to the floor. The two women careened wildly about the saloon, knocking over tables and disrupting customers.

After a few minutes of this, all of the men had moved out of the way, over to the bar itself, perched up high enough to watch the action without becoming a part of it, cheering on their favorite female and jeering loudly at the other when necessary. The saloon crowd turned suddenly rowdy as the two women wrestled around the saloon floor. Sam dutifully collected bets from the cheering, jeering men, each of them absolutely convinced of the outcome, some choosing the stronger Polly, while others picking the more skilled Melissa. The men demanded round after round of drinks, so Sam saw no reason to break up the female fight.

Melissa could tell Polly was an inexperienced opponent, and decide to have a little fun with her. As Polly rushed towards her, Melissa simply sidestepped, deftly grabbing hold of the top of Polly’s dress. There was a tremendous ripping sound. Polly screamed out, realizing what had happened. Her dress was gone and she was standing in a saloon full of men wearing only her petticoat! Polly looked up at Melissa, now busy waving the defrocked Polly’s simple white garment in front of the cheering, jeering men.

Polly roared like a bull, rose to her feet and charged at the unprepared Melissa, catching her fully unaware as she turned back towards Polly. There was a loud ripping sound as Polly ripped Mel’s dress to her waist, before knocking her to the floor. As Mel tumbled to the floor, Polly pulled what remained of Mel’s dress from about her legs. Polly waved Mel’s dress for the men for a scant moment, and then launched herself at Mel, still prone upon the floor, now wearing only a frilly, lace petticoat. But Melissa was ready and responded by pulling Polly’s long blonde tresses. Tears welled in Polly’s eyes before she, too, grabbed Mel’s longer hair in retaliation.

The two women rolled back and forth endlessly across the saloon floor in their respective petticoats, one fancy and the other plain, hands locked in the other’s hair. “Let go, you pathetic tenderfoot,” cried Melissa.

“No way, whore,” screamed Polly in return. “Not until you give me back my money!”

And so it went for at least 6 minutes, the two women screaming, cursing & hurling insults while they clutched upon each other’s hair. Melissa was surprised to find Polly nearly holding her own as they tumbled end over end, overturning any tables in their path, spilling beer and whiskey all over themselves. Soon the tops of their petticoats had turned transparent from the soaking. The cool wet liquid had caused both women’s nipples to harden and protrude against the damp, flimsy fabric of their petticoats. There was a collective gasp from all males present, followed by a moment of collective silence, before every set of eyes within the saloon became wholly transfixed upon both women’s very apparent assets! Though none realized, Mel had now noticed Polly’s very large mammaries for the very first time, somewhat jealously in fact.

Fighting with another woman in front of a crowd of jeering men was totally humiliating for Polly, while Mel appeared to take it in stride. But it was only a ruse for Mel as she quickly reached inside the top of Polly’s wet, transparent petticoat and grabbed hold of Polly’s large left breast, squeezing viciously! Polly yelped wildly, trying to free her besieged breast from the maleficent Mel. But no one noticed the look of incredulity on Mel’s face as she discovered she was unable to fully grasp Polly’s huge breast in its entirety. Polly’s ample assets bulged forth between Mel’s clawing fingers. Mel was stunned!

But even through the fabric of the petticoat, Mel still had a solid grip and Polly was forced onto her back on the saloon floor whilst Mel straddled her triumphantly from above. Even though Mel yet clutched upon Polly’s left breast, she was too shaken to respond similarly.

Mel finally released Polly’s bruised breast and slapped her hard across the face, shocking Polly further. Men scattered as Mel dragged Polly closer to the bar and wedged her between two barstools. Melissa quickly mounted Polly’s waist once again and held her down. Polly was unable to budge - Melissa was in complete control. It had been a surprisingly intense struggle, but at the finale, Mel had asserted herself convincingly.

“Hey Sam! Toss me a set of handcuffs,” Mel ordered the barkeep.

Sam complied reluctantly, reaching behind the bar, tossing a set of handcuffs to Melissa. Polly soon found her hands cuffed together around the base of one floor-mounted barstool. “Okay Sam, toss me another pair,” Mel continued anxiously.

Dutifully, Sam tossed another pair to Melissa, who now secured Polly’s ankles to an adjacent barstool. Polly wept softly, handcuffed hand and foot between several barstools, helpless and humiliated beyond belief by Melissa. How could she have allowed this conniving tramp to best her this way???

In the meantime, Melissa had gotten up and retrieved her winnings from the saloon floor, as well as picked up her dress, before sauntering upstairs to her room. All of the men’s eyes were glued upon her exquisite shape as she went. About a half hour later, Melissa reappeared, her wavy hair nicely coiffed and now wearing a fancy, bright blue dress and toting a small suitcase. She plopped her winnings onto the bar, cashing in the chips with Sam, who, with Mel’s full knowledge, clandestinely took a 10% cut. Mel smiled, speaking to him softly, “Nice doing business with you Sam.”

“Don’t come back,” he replied quietly, smiling pleasantly in return.

Mel spun about, swaggering triumphantly towards the saloon doors where she stopped a moment to gloat. “You dim-witted tenderfoot!” she barked at Polly. “You never had a chance against me! Do yourself a favor and go home to that dense husband of yours.”

Polly glared back fiercely, “No, do yourself a favor,” she fired back. “Return our money now and I’ll not bother you again.”

“From where I’m standing, you won’t bother me again, anyway. Bye bye, love” called Melissa sweetly as she sauntered out the swinging doors of the saloon.

Polly lay there sobbing, the men cheering and jeering above her as Sam settled their bets. They barely paid notice of Polly now, reveling in the female fight they’d just witnessed, occasionally spilling beer and whiskey on Polly as she lay there on the floor beneath the barstools. Wyatt, Matt and Ethan no longer seemed to mind about losing all of their money, now more interested in comparing various accounts of the wild fem-fight they’d witnessed.

Polly had been badly humiliated, lying on the saloon floor the rest of the night, ankles and wrists cuffed about several bar stools, her clothes torn and smelling of cigar smoke, beer & whiskey. With the approaching light of dawn, Polly noted the saloon doors slowly swing open and a tall man wearing a badge approach slowly. He motioned for Sam to toss him the handcuff keys.

“What’s going on this time?” the man asked Sam while turning the key and freeing Polly’s wrists. “Can’t I leave town for one night without this place turning lawless and vile?”

The man began removing the handcuffs from her ankles, but Polly only half listened as Sam tried to talk his way out of trouble. Instead, above the din of the background noise and in-between her own sobs, Polly listened to the sound of a stagecoach leaving town, knowing instinctively that Melissa was on board.

Polly knew exactly where she would travel next, that is once she’d gathered her clothes and cleaned herself up. Polly gathered what dignity she could while collecting her clothes, swearing silent revenge upon Melissa Moon. That hussy would pay dearly for last night’s humiliation!!

The End