This is dedicated to @ladylorelitany who shares a love for the spur wearin’ Delarue!
His horse snorted out a tired breath. They’d been traveling for far too long, but he wanted to get to Linberg Way before the next train stopped by.
He was on a mission to see her. He needed her body, her soft hands, her lips, her bluntness… he just needed her.
The Saloon she owned was dead; last weeks customers having left the day earlier.
As he neared, he could make out all of her girls lounging, relaxing before the new set of John’s arrived looking for a good time.
Going up the wooden steps, they creaked under his weight, the heat drying out the warped wood.
His boots clicked, his spurs twiriling as he entered the Saloon.
Diane, a rather young whore, smiled as he passed the threshold.
He tipped his hat in greeting, looking around.
“She’s out back. Want me to get her?” Diane asked.
Henry shook his head, “No. I’ll be in her room. Let her know I’m here?”
Diane nodded, going back to her book.
Going up the wide staircase, he made his way to her room all the way at the end of the hall.
Opening the door, fresh air greeted him, her balcony window opened. A gust of air blew through the room, making the curtains dance.
The natural light created a soft glow, revealing that she hadn’t done much to her spacious room.
In the far corner was her burgundy wood desk, the top of it clean of clutter.
On the other side of the room, a dresser with a porcelain basin, a full length mirror and a vanity.
In the middle, was her king sized bed, loaded with plush padding and the finest linen that could be bought.
He once asked her why she needed such a big bed; jealousy in his tone.
She threw her head back, laughing, “You think I’d let one of those nasty bastards on my bed? Please Darlin’, those days are long gone.”
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he remembered that night.
He went to her desk, reclining back in the chair, propping his feet up on top of it. He smiled, knowing full damn well that she was going to give him hell for having his dusty boots on the table.
His fingers threaded and resting on his stomach, he was dozing lightly when he heard the click clack of her high heeled boots.
The door opened, her natural apple blossom scent filling the room. Her steps quickened to the desk as she reached out and slapped his boots.
“Nappin’ or not, ya best get yer boots off my desk, Delarue.”
A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he raised his head, peaking at her from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Is that any way to greet your Lover?”
She tapped her toe, her arms folded, “What Lover? All I see is some jackass with his dusty ass boots on my desk.”
She tried to come across as tough, but he could hear the smile in her tone.
He sighed, lifting his tired legs from her desk. He stood, rising to his full height of 6'2.
He watched as her arms fell to her sides. The billowy top she wore, clung to her breasts, revealing only a hint of cleavage. A small corset wrapped around her middle, pushing those breasts up just enough.
His eyes traveled downward, her tight, leather riding britches hugging her curves in all the right places. Her knee high boots, made her legs even longer.
She stood about 5'8 with her boots on, but off, she was only 5'5.
The gun belt he had bought her, hung low to one side of her hip, the colt firmly in it’s holster. Bullets lined the belt, the newness of the freshly pressed bullets gleaming in the sunlight.
A knife strapped to each thigh and she was complete with her deadly temper. Most men knew not to cross her, him especially.
He saw what happens when one of her girls is treated badly or she’s cheated out of money. The thought nearly made him shudder.
Her lips pursed, “Ya know, it’s rude to stare.”
He grinned, walking over to her. He made sure to spin the spurs on his boots.
She’d made the mistake once, of telling him how much it got her wet at the sound of them.
She bit her bottom lip, then narrowed her gaze at him, “Yer a bastard Delarue.”
He chuckled, running a finger down her cheek to her cleveage, “That I am. Now, how about givin’ this ol’ bastard a kiss, hmm?”
Her tounge slowly peaked out from her lips, licking the plump bottom lip.
She ran her hands up his purple jacket, threading her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck.
Henry’s hands immediately went to her curvy ass, lifting her slightly when her lips finally touched his.
He growled at the first taste of her. She nipped at his lips, the tip of her tounge soothing the sharp stings.
They both took a deep breath as the kiss escalated and deepend.
She pushed off his duster, the heavy material falling to the floor. Pulling back from his kiss with a moan, she took his hat from his head, giving it a slight flick of her wrist, making it land on her desk.
They each took off their own gun belts and other weapons, discarding them to the side of the bed.
Their boots came next, but then they paused. Slowly, she undressed him, kissing any available bare skin that she could reach.
Once she had his shirts off, she ran her hands up and down the hair on his chest. His pants were unbuttoned, the hard length of him being the only thing keeping the garment up.
He reached out, pulling at the string that held her top together. The corset kept her breasts lifted.
Just the sight of them being slightly on display for him made his mouth water. He sat down on the bed, pulling her to stand in between his legs.
His face was level with her chest. He watched, mesmerized as her chest moved up and down rapidly with short, gasping breaths.
Holding her hips, he leaned forward, running his nose over and around her tightened nipple.
She sighed, tilting her head back. With hot, open mouth kisses, the heat from his breath seared the soft skin of her breast.
His tounge snuck out, circling her nipple. She moaned slightly, her breathing becoming more eratic.
Sliding a hand over her hip, he ran his long fingers slowly over her cloth covered mound.
Her breath hitched, her hips rolling slightly at his grip.
He suckled her breast, releasing it with a plop and moving the next bare breast.
As he lapped at her, he untied her pants, quickly shoving his hands into the leather. He found her completely soaked, his long fingers sliding into her easily.
She bent forward, her moan nearly a scream when the pad of his finger passed over her bundle of nerves.
Without wasting anymore time, her jerked her pants down to her knees, spinning her around, her torso pinned to the bed.
Her plump rear moved from side to side, her body needing some sort of friction.
He jerked his pants down to his knees, placing his hands on either side of her hips.
Gripping himself, he ran the head of his shaft up and down her dripping entrance, spreading the moisture.
He pushed in, her heat enveloping him.
They both moaned, missing the feeling of one another. Usually one would be tired of the familiarity, but this was welcomed.
This was what they needed.
Putting a hand above her ass, his hips moved faster, his grunts and her moans filling the room.
This was going to be fast, the both of them needing to take the edge off before fully enjoying themselves.
Burying her face in the comforter, she raised her ass slightly, taking him deeper into her.
He hit her spot, over and over again, making her scream.
The shuddering of her body as she came, sent him over the edge, making him call out her name, “Robin,” it was said so softly, that she thought she’d misheard.
He rested against her, saying her name again.
Biting her lip, tried to catch her breath. When ever he said her name, it was with such desire and longing, that it nearly took her breath away.
He pulled out slowly, falling onto his back, making the matress bounce.
Strands of her hair covered her eyes, obstructing her vision of him.
Seeing this, he ran his finger through the hair, moving it out of her way.
“C'mere Darlin’,” he said, pulling her closer to him.
Robin kissed his pec, running her fingers through his chest hair.
After a few moments, she got off of the bed.
Delarue propped himself up on his elbows, watching her.
Gingerly, she pulled his pants down his legs and folded the britches. His eyes followed her movements as she rid herself of her pants and the offending corset.
He could see the indentations left behind from the fishbone and string.
“Why do you wear that damn thing?” He grouched as she climbed back on the bed and settled on his lap.
Robin stretched her arms high in the air, her back popping in mutliple places.
Delarue ran his long fingers up her sides, his thumbs rubbing the underside of her pale breasts.
“Somethin’s gotta keep these up,” she laughed, putting her arms down.
Leaning down she kissed the side of his handlebar mustache, “Besides, you seemed to enjoy the view,”
He grunted, gripping her bottom.
“Come back with me,”
He always said this, each time he was in her bed.
She clicked her tounge, frowning, “Henry, you know I can’t. A whore like myself wouldn’t fit in with the good ol town being ran by your sheriff priest.”
“Fuck him,” he said, sitting up and holding her to his chest.
“You dare say that about a man of God?” She gasped.
“He’s no man of God, Robin. You’re more Godly than that son of a bitch.”
“And what of my girls, my business here?”
He shrugged, “There’s a saloon in town. Take over, not like anything is going on there. Hell, don’t work at all. I make more than enough.”
Their faces so close that their noses were touching; she looked him square in the eye, “I’m not living off of a man. I swore I’d never have to depend on one again.”
His fingers tickled her back lightly, “Then bring your business to Landlock. I don’t care what you decide, so long as you decide to come back with me.”
“Henry…” she whispered, conflicted.
He kissed her, taking the her very breath from her delicious mouth, “Just think about it, Robin.” He said, pecking at her lips.
“Heads Up” was recorded after the band spent 2015 apart working on solo projects. Reuniting in January this year, the band started to work with producer Jacob Bercovici, whom they had worked on their debut EP ‘Exquisite Corpse’ – into the studio to begin work on the new LP.
The album was recorded in House on The Hill studio in downtown LA, their home studios and Papap’s Palace and for the first time ever, recorded in pairs and alone rather than as a full band.
“The doors were a little more open in terms of what was accepted and what wasn’t, because we were sharing ideas so rapidly between us. The roles that each of us individually had—or had established—were a little more malleable”, says the band drummer Stella Mozgawa of the recording process.
“Everybody was allowed to have their space, time and creative freedom with songs and figure out, ‘I wonder what the best notes would be? I wonder what the best would be to play?” says bassist Jenny Lee Linberg “Everybody got to sit and go, “What do I want to do to this? What’s my part? What’s my role? How can I make it the best?’”.