Contributor: John Laneri
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It was a Saturday night, and a group of us from the Double T were celebrating at the Dead Horse, a saloon on the outskirts of San Angelo. We had just ordered beers when a cute little lady wearing jeans and a red tank top started circling our table.
“I’m selling kisses for five dollars”, she said in a friendly voice.
I tossed her a smile. “Cowboys don’t kiss. It ain’t’ natural.”
“And, why not?” she asked, as she settled onto my lap and draped an arm about my neck. “I bet cowboys are good kissers.”
“We are, but we only kiss when we have good reason.”
She fluffed her hair and offered me another smile. “I’ve always liked rugged men with happy faces.” She paused to look me over, her eyes going from my curly hair to my freshly polished boots. “You're exactly my type.”
“That’s good enough for me,” I said,...
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Author:
John Laneri
