CHAKOTAY, BOOTS 'N' ALL

 

Chakotay clamped the unlit Cuban cigar - courtesy Replicator XZ D2-2002 - between his teeth so that it stuck from the side of his mouth like a torpedo.

 

He stood hands on his hips, the right hand hovering over his holstered six-shooter. He was naked, his jet black hair slinked down the sides of his face and settled on his shoulders. It was parted in the middle and concealed the tattoo only partially.

 

His eyes glowed like embers in the dark revealing only an evil glow. He was a rugged man of the land type, standing in rugged terrain, mesas rising in the distance behind him, cacti jutting from the land, a roadrunner scurrying off.

 

"Kathryn, my love," he bellowed, "come here."

 

"How shall I do my master's bidding?"

 

"You must sit on my lap." He moved the cigar to the other side of his mouth, clamped it between his teeth again. "And then I shall cock my pistol."

 

Kathryn moved forward, trembling. His six-shooter had intricate veins on its barrel that formed patterns of antiquity.

 

"Sir, you wear no clothes today?" she asked, her hand reaching for his pistol. Instantly, his hand covered hers.

 

"You do what I say, and when I say it, woman."

 

"Aye, sir."

 

"Now, come and sit here."

 

Kathryn began to drool. Saliva dripped from the side of her mouth. She shifted her naked body over his, crying out when his pistol speared her right to her hilt. The force of the entry lifted her off the dusty ground and when she sank down on him, her feet came to rest on his boots. Her titties bounced as he rode her, his teeth never losing their grip on his cigar, and his hand never far from the engraved butt of his S&W 6" Diamond Back…pistol.

 

*************

 

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