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You feel faint. You've been gawking at the same man for the past hour, and there's this sneaking suspicion that he's probably noticed your staring. The rest of the girls in the saloon definitely have.
One of them bumps you gently with her hip as she swings past you, and you give her a beaten look as you pout at her. You're not doing it on purpose, you swear. You're just hot and bothered, and the man who looks unshaven makes you feel like you're going to lose it. It's not fair. Just not fair. You've gone so long without getting married, after all. It's not a sin to— oh, whatever.
You go back to scrubbing the towel in the washbin. Horrible, really. Summer's heat is bolstering hot, painfully drenching you in sweat, but you're forced to make do. It's rare there are visitors in the area, and it's even more rare a visitor looks as good as this one, so you forgive yourself for gawking obviously. You're simple, after all. Heavens forbid you ever find the love of your life if you gawk at every passing gentleman.
"You really haven't stopped." A girl settles next to you with a new bin, and you whimper.
"It's horrible." You mumble, face so warm you're sure you could probably fry an egg on it. "I'm so warm from the summer heat I think y'could cook an egg on my head."
The girl laughs, arms working at her set of fabric. "Oh, sweetheart."
"I'm weak willed, forgive me. He's a looker, after all." You mumble, scrubbing more ferociously as you get lost in your own mind. "He isn't helping with the heat."
"Not my personal kind, but all yours, sweetheart."
"Save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever."
Arthur watches you from the other side, mumbling to himself as he listens to the conversation in the building, pausing when he catches wind from your conversation.
"Save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever…"
The girl next to you laughs so hard she nearly falls off of the seat, but you force all focus onto scrubbing that stubborn stain off of the sheets. You might as well sink into the ground with how hard you scratch at the brown, and you huff. Technically, it was the saloon's fault for leaving this in the back, waiting to be washed, but you weren't some poor old newbie who had no idea how to clean. It would come off with enough warm water, and the metal bucket at your feet was rapidly warming up with the cracklin' sun.
You throw your head back to breathe, sweat sliding down your back. Ough, you can feel the tan already.
When you do, you notice the man staring down at you, raising a brow amusedly as you blink twice to make sure the summer hasn't driven you stupid.
"Hey."
You think you're going to pass out.
"'ello there, sir!" The girl laughs. "Y'need somethin'?"
"y' give baths here?"
Your throat dries up, and you go back to trying to scrub the stain, to which you realize the fabric is stainless from your more than enthusiastic scrubbing, and you're starting to think that maybe this is the universe's way of punishing you for gawking at a man you don't know. God help you for wanting a man.
"We sure do." The girl laughs. "Should we run one for ya?"
Arthur nods, and you make eye contact with your colleague as she gives you the most devious grin on earth.
"I do NOT do that kinda service." You mouth.
"Y'do now." She grins.
She hums and heads in and leaves her bin, and you think you're going to return to nature.
There's a considerable amount of silence as you reach over to take the girl's bin and swap it for yours before Arthur speaks up.
"So… what was that'about savin' horses?"
"Oh, you heard that?" You whisper, mortified as you turn around, and Arthur laughs, chest shaking.
"Sure did, sweetheart." He tips his hat, and your face flushes with warmth as you think about sinking into the earth and returning to mother nature.
"'s the offer still open?"
You think you mishear him, looking up at him and blinking, jaw dropped like a fish out of water.
"Saving a horse?"
"riding the cowboy, darlin'"
You're going to pass out.
"Bath's ready, sir! You want a girl in there with ya?" The girl makes direct eye contact with you, and you think you might actually die on the spot.
"Can I request one?"
You're going to die.
He makes eye contact with you, and the girl laughs.
"She'll cost y' extra."
"Mary Ann!" You gasp, horrified as she laughs. "Y' sellin' me like some hog in the barn?"
"Come awn! You'd do it for a pretty penny!"
Your eye twitches, and she tilts her head at you.
"I don't mean to be rude, ma'am. Just askin'." Arthur stares into your eyes, and your heart shakes. Oh, curse that dammed heart of yours.
You sigh, giving in as you kick the bucket over to her, and you fan your neck, craning it back, exhaling.
"I'll get ya washed, sir. C'mon in." You lead him in, closing the door behind you as you wait for him to strip, and once enough time has passed, you head on in to scrub him. He smells of musk and dirt, but nothing you haven't seen before, so you push your sleeves up to get scrubbing, ignoring the way his eyes stay lingered on you as you move around. Your hands are rougher than the other girls, he assumes it's from the cleaning fabric rather than men, and when he kicks up a leg for you to scrub, he notices the way your ear turns a shade darker as you scrub closer and closer to his pelvic region.
Unused to it, probably.
You're unused to it. You don't remember the last time you had washed a man rather than the beat up towels used to dry the men off after. Yet, you persevere, cleaning him down until the water is murky and he's clean, wiping your forehead when you do finish, squeezing out the water as you nod at him. You try to ignore the fact that he's hard and remind yourself that it's unprofessional to fuck one of the customers. Wretched mind.
"Y'er all clean, sir." You hum, exhaling when he pushes his hair back to get the water off his face.
Arthur checks to make sure, and you look to the side, sure that the color on your ears has got to be ten shades darker than it ought to be. You're trying your best to ignore the very obvious erection he's got, and you know some of the girls might help the poor man out, but you'd rather he say it aloud than assume that he might want help. You're the one who had made the rather horrifying comment to him about saving horses and riding cowboys.
"Thank you, darlin'"
You nod, getting ready to leave.
"Will… y' wash up later?"
"Hm?" You turn around, glancing as Arthur swallows.
"Ah, don't… don't worry 'bout it. You seemed to be sweatin' up a storm earlier."
"'s what the summer does to people down here." You mumble.
"Ah… alright."
You wonder if you should just throw yourself accidentally into the bath, but you're certain that's just the heat speaking and not your right mind. Oh, you poor soul. Haven't gotten bedded in so long that y'start wanting to fuck a cowboy— alright, alright. Out the door you go.
Your hand finds the doorknob, and you take a seriously heavy inhale before you twist to try to leave, but the sloshing of water cuts you off before you're pressed against the door, and oh, whatever. Your poor clothes will need washing already anyway.
"Tell me to stop whenever." He mumbles, resting his face in your the crook of your neck, fingers tugging at the buttons on your chest as your heart races in your chest, and by dear god you think you might be wet enough for him to just slip in. You turn around to let him mouth at your neck as he continues popping the buttons down, and you whimper.
and, well, if you have a story to tell after it all, then god forgive you for sleeping with a customer.