Picnic

This story is set before the storm that was Hurricane Kitty hit in the episode "The Way It Is," and is intended for mature readers. Many thanks to Jane & Flarnchef for ideas and inspiration, and to Lady G for beverage suggestions and encouragement... You ladies are the best. 

Deliciously sweet, tantalizing springtime on the burgeoning Kansas prairie…  The interminable winter’s longing gradually gives way to a welcome respite --delightful, heady scents of moist, fertile earth and green growing things.  Insects buzz softly on a warm breeze, intoxicatingly fragrant with yellow buttercups and white primroses growing wild.  Sleepy, stilted senses awaken amid such natural splendor, and the resultant stirrings can be exceedingly difficult to tame.

Two companions share a simple repast in just such an idealistic sylvan setting, vigorously serenaded by a nearby mockingbird.  Protected from prying eyes by a cottonwood grove, they slowly savor juicy fried chicken, fluffy buttermilk biscuits and fresh, cold water from the nearby stream as they sit on a well-worn quilt carefully spread over a soft cushion of deer-tongue grass. 

“Bite?”  He offers her a large forkful of Ma Smalley’s delicious homemade pie.  “Ma said she made this from one of her last jars of summer peaches.” 

She grins playfully and manages the whole man-size mouthful, not without some difficulty.  Chuckling, he removes his Stetson and sets it aside so that he can gently kiss away a dollop of sweet syrup that clings tantalizingly to her bottom lip.  He admires the way the dappled sunlight peeks through the leaves of the gnarled cottonwood they sit beneath to shine on her hair and set it ablaze with flaming color.  She wears it down the way he likes it best, pulled away from her face with a yellow satin ribbon, a few soft tresses falling on her forehead, the rest spilling like liquid copper down her back.

“Mmmm…” she responds.

Tenderly he wipes a crumb of crust from the soft skin of her chin with his thumb and intimates in a low voice, “Was that reaction for the pie or my kiss?”

“Both,” she answers thickly, swallowing the overlarge bite of juicy peaches and buttery crust, then licking her sticky lips in satisfaction.

ljljljljlj

Yesterday afternoon, Ma had cornered Matt in Mr. Jonas’s general store over by the turnip display.

  

“Why, Marshall Dillon, what a surprise!” she cooed.  “I thought you were going to Hays City today!”

Surprise that she was aware of his plans was evident in Matt’s face. 

Ma flapped a dismissive hand at him.  “Oh, Marshall, don’t look so taken aback.  I talked to Kitty yesterday and she said she was expecting you to be gone today and tomorrow, that’s all…”

“She told you that, huh?” he squinted questioningly at her.

“Well, I just asked her if you two were coming to the spring barn dance Friday night and she said she wasn’t sure since you had to go out of town.”

“She’s right, Ma.  With my job, I just never know.”

Ma’s mouth turned down at the corners.  “Yes, Kitty was mighty disappointed that you missed Lily Parker’s wedding, too.  She had that beautiful green dress special made…”

“She did?”

“Why, didn’t she tell you?”  Ma’s eyes widened and she leaned conspiratorially closer.  She whispered behind her hand, “She said you like her best in green, and that’s why she chose that color.  I saw her trying it on at the dressmaker’s…”  Ma held her hand to her heart.  “Oh my, she looked simply exquisite--why, she’d just take your breath away, Marshal.  Have you seen it yet?”

Matt cleared his throat self-consciously.  “No, ma’am.  I haven’t.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad.  She was just a vision of loveliness in that dress, I tell you.”  Ma eyed him.  “Well, Marshal, I suppose you’ll be able to make it up to her tomorrow night at the barn dance.  Maybe she can wear that green dress for you!”

“Well, Ma, I hate to tell ya’, but I’ve still got to go to Hays City.  My trip has just been delayed for a day.  I still have to leave tomorrow.  So I’m afraid I won’t be able to make that barn dance after all.”

Ma Smalley’s face fell. 

He hurried to add, “But there will be other dances, Ma.”

“Yes, I’m sure there will be, but it’s awful disappointing to a beautiful, spirited girl like Miss Kitty.  I’m sure you understand how she must feel.”

Matt’s face turned pink.  “Yes, ma’am.  I do feel pretty bad.” 

Blinia Williams, browsing through the tatting and laces, seemed intent on trying to overhear their conversation.   Ma smiled widely at her and knowingly commented, “Why, Blinia, is that a new hat you’ve got on there?  I declare, it sure does look becoming on you.”

Blinia pursed her thin lips at being caught listening in and replied curtly, “Why, thank you, Ma,” and hurried off to pay Mr. Jonas for her purchases. 

Ma grabbed Matt by the arm and pulled him further away, back by the spring radishes.  She lowered her voice even more.  “Seems like with your job, Miss Kitty gets more than her share of disappointments, don’t you think, Marshal?”

“Well, I…”

“Just like last fall, you had to miss Bessie Larcher’s chivaree?  Remember that?”  Ma tut-tutted and shook her head sympathetically.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Matt swiped a hand over his face and stifled a grimace.

“Kitty tried to act like she wasn’t upset, but I could tell…”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, the marshal industriously examined the toes of his big boots.

Ma’s face brightened and she got an inspired look in her eye.  “Say, I just…”

“Now, Ma, I know what you’re gonna’ say…”

Ma frowned at him.  “Why, Marshal, how on earth could you know what I was about to…”

He rushed to explain in a low voice, “I know that I’ve disappointed Kitty, time and again, but it’s not my intention…”

“Why, of course, it’s not your intention!”  Her face softened as she whispered, “You’re an honorable man.  You would never intentionally disappoint a lady.”

Matt’s ears turned pinker.

“But, Marshal, you have to admit you are a lucky man.”  Ma cocked an eyebrow at him.  “There are a lot of men in this town who would give their eye teeth to be escorting Miss Kitty Russell to the dance, you know.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I do realize that,” Matt answered sheepishly, shuffling his feet self-consciously.

Smiling indulgently, she hurriedly explained to put him out of his obvious misery, “I had only wished to offer a suggestion to you, Marshal.  It just so happens I made a lovely peach pie this morning from one of the very last jars of my peaches left over from last summer’s canning…”  She paused for effect, then added, “My recipe won first prize at the Ford County Fair.”

“Is that so, ma’am?”  His expression turned somewhat less bleak.

“Marshal, why don’t you take that pie…”  She placed an index finger on her lips and looked heavenward.  “…and maybe get a nice lunch from Delmonico’s…”

“But…Ma, I can’t…”

“…and surprise Miss Kitty with a little picnic in the country?”

“But…Ma, I’ve got a trial to get ready for…”

She ignored his protests, finishing triumphantly with a finger in the air, “I bet that would go a long way toward salving a poor girl’s wounded heart for missing the barn dance tomorrow night!”

Matt ran a hand through his thick, dark curls and cleared his throat.  “Ma…” he began, then finally looked her in the eye, sighed loudly and drawled, “Ma, I think that’s a fine idea.”

Ma looked altogether surprised and pleased.  She whispered, “Don’t tell her I told you to, Marshal.  You just act like it was all your idea, all right?”  She winked at him.  “Kitty’s an awful nice girl, and I think she’d be thrilled to pieces if you surprised her with a sweet little picnic in the beautiful countryside.”

Shaking his head in surrender, Matt chuckled ruefully, “Yes, Ma’am…”

ljljljljlj

Carefully, he picks up in his long fingers the last stray slice of sweet peach from his plate and offers it to her with a smile and a questioning eyebrow. 

“Is that an invitation, Marshal Dillon?”  Her sapphire eyes sparkle and she leans in to take the fruit with her warm mouth.  Her tongue slides over his sensitive fingers slickly, making him hum in pleasure. 

“Was that an invitation, Miss Russell?”  He places a finger under her chin and gently draws her face toward his. 

“Cowboy, you know you’ve always got an open invitation where I’m concerned…” she breathlessly teases, nipping playfully at his full bottom lip.

He responds by sliding his hot tongue into her mouth, still tasting of fruit and sugar and a touch of cinnamon.  Cradling his hand in the small of her back, he eases her down on the soft quilt, where their lips and tongues tangle warmly.  Their kisses are slow and easy in anticipation of a full afternoon of privacy and seclusion, courtesy of the tall reeds and Indian grass that grow round about them.

   

He reaches a hand down to unfasten the buttons on the front of her yellow dress and she gasps suddenly, “Mmmf…”

"What?” he groans.

“The champagne…”

He continues to unfasten more tiny yellow buttons, kissing her throat.  “Can’t it wait?”

Petulantly, she explains, “But I want to put it in the water to cool.”

He manages a few more.  By golly, how many buttons does a dress really need? 

“I was saving it for the barn dance...”  She drops her arms listlessly over her head, continuing, “…but now you can’t go.”

He nibbles delicately at her earlobe, all the while working tirelessly on the tedious buttons.

“So I would really love to have it on our picnic today…”  She sighs heavily.

After much intensive labor, he is rewarded by the sight of her ivory bosom rising over her lacy corset, his view visibly enhanced by the dramatic sighing display.

She continues, “And you can’t drink champagne unless it’s chilled…”

He hungrily plants a kiss on the swell of one generous breast when she rolls unceremoniously away. 

Grunting at the sudden loss, he protests, “Where are you going?”

Placing her hands firmly on her hips, she retorts, “To put the champagne in the stream to cool.”

Smiling up at her, he adds a placating, “I’d much rather taste you, honey, than cold champagne anytime…”

She smothers a grin, hikes up her skirt past her knees, and plops down on a distant corner of the quilt, far from any distraction the lawman might provide.  Unlacing both black leather boots, she shoots him a devilish look over one shoulder, then pulls her yellow skirts halfway up her creamy thighs.  He props himself on an elbow to watch. 

He can’t see what she is doing next, but suddenly a small, black lacy garment flies airily over her shoulder and lands on top of his head, draping rakishly over one eye.  He reaches up to find her garter, and he grins, holding it to his nose to inhale her distinctive scent appreciatively. 

Eyes twinkling, he shifts his position to better observe her actions with decided interest.  Another black garter and two silk stockings soon join the first garment in sailing through the air to land on top of him.  Giving a mischievous, throaty laugh, she blows him a playful kiss over her shoulder.  Grabbing her skirts and the bottle of champagne from the picnic basket, she heads barefooted for the edge of the water, her red hair blowing in the breeze as she calls out, “I’ll be back, Cowboy.  Don’t do anything without me…”

ljljljljlj

Pillowing his head comfortably on one arm, he chortles as she wades into the crystal stream, yelping and uttering a few choice words at the shock of the cold water.   He enjoys the unaccustomed sight of her long, bare legs alluringly exposed to his gaze in the bright sunlight as she carefully fords the stream to wedge the champagne bottle between two rocks in deeper water.  His eyes appreciatively take in the rise and fall of her full bosom over the delicate, lacey underwear he’d exposed, unbuttoning the soft material of her bodice earlier.  He chuckles as she slips a bit before quickly catching her balance, giving a small girlish squeal that he wishes he had a chance to hear more often. 

Lying in the warm, dappled sunshine, contentedly watching her for as long as his full stomach and heavy eyelids will allow, a mourning dove’s haunting yet soothing, rhythmic coo lulls him sweetly.  Rubbing the silk fabric of one of her stockings comfortingly between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes drift shut as he watches her roaming the stream bank in her bare feet, bending gracefully to pick a bouquet of wildflowers, the enticing view of her sweet, soft breasts spilling over her corset his last conscious memory as he surrenders to gentle, peaceful sleep …

ljljljljlj

“Shhhh…”

“Mmm?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep…” she whispers soothingly in his ear, nestling the generous curves of her body, warm from the spring sunshine and fragrant with the scent of small, wild purple violets, into his.  He obligingly shifts his weight as she slides one of her knees between his muscular thighs and wraps her arm under his own and behind his back to caress it soothingly. 

“Shhhh…” she repeats as he buries his nose in her silken hair and drifts contentedly back to sleep with his one true love beneath an ancient cottonwood tree on the wide Kansas prairie.

ljljljljlj

A warm breeze caresses his face and makes his eyelids flutter.  Her slender arms no longer hold him.  Where is she?  His eyes open wide.  She is still there beside him, head propped on an elbow, watching him quietly.  Enigmatically, she smiles and wordlessly sprinkles a handful of small, delicate wildflowers on his chest and face: violets and primroses, bluebells and buttercups. 

Stretching sleepily, he yawns and deeply inhales their sweetness, then kisses her ear, whispering, “Woman, what’s got into you…”

A secret smile curves the corners of her mouth, and she reaches a hand for the top button of his pants.  His pretend sternness melts from his face as she determinedly and soundlessly continues to unbutton his pants, her hand snaking inside his underwear to wrap firmly around his manhood.  He cannot breathe. 

She speaks in a husky voice at last, “I thought I told you not to do anything without me.”  She gives his partially-engorged, silky shaft a firm stroke.   “But it feels like you got started without me already.”  She whispers breathily in his ear, still holding him in her warm palm, “Did you dream about me, Cowboy?”

She loosens his pants as he obligingly lifts his hips, and he groans as she freely caresses his sex with nimble hands.  “I think…” he says through gritted teeth.  “…I may be dreaming… now, honey.”  Threading his trembling fingers through her thick, titian hair, he tugs the yellow satin ribbon free, watching the fiery strands tumble seductively into her hooded sapphire eyes.

His molten gaze follows her as she moves to take him into the same soft, yielding mouth that had taken peaches from his own hand only hours before.  Her full lips part and she looks up into his eyes with a sultry expression that makes him tremble with yearning.  Taking him into her mouth, she worships him with her swollen, pouty lips and laving, swirling, hot tongue as his desperate fingers tangle urgently in her hair.  Her gently nipping teeth and feathery, stroking, massaging fingers finally force him to beg her for release.

Rising quickly, she lifts her skirts and unties silken underwear, slipping them over full hips and down shapely bare legs, allowing him a titillating view of damp red curls and swollen, glistening feminine flesh before she straddles him in a voluminous cloud of billowing yellow fabric.  He thinks he will die when she settles her velvety softness around his pulsing, throbbing need.  Moaning low in her throat, she takes his impressive hardness inside her aching center as slowly as possible.  He hungrily watches through slitted eyes as her head rolls back, her face a mask of untamed arousal, her shining copper hair spilling down her back as she takes relaxing breaths, willing her body to take in his impressive rigid length. 

A passionate groan escapes his lips as she begins to glide over him, agonizingly slowly.  His hands wander to trace the soft, alluring swell of her breasts over lace and silk bindings.  He drinks in the sight of his lady’s erotically wanton expression, making sweet love to him in the cool shade of the cottonwood grove.   He hums in contentment as she drowsily rides him, and he takes one delicate hand gently in his own and damply kisses her palm, her wrist, and the tender flesh inside her elbow. 

Sighing, her glance meets his and she grasps each of his strong hands for support.  She begins to grind against him, slowly at first, her wistful eyes never wavering from his own scorching gaze.  In a hoarse, ardent whisper, all that he can manage from the depths of his passionate haze, he offers, “I love you, sweetheart,” and squeezes her hands more tightly.

“Mmmm…”  Her breathing is ragged with desire, and she releases his hands to reach beneath voluminous skirts to touch herself as her body continues to move rhythmically against him.  He is vaguely aware of the primal scream of a red-tailed hawk soaring overhead as his scorching gaze hungrily beholds his ardent lover pleasuring herself over him, moist lips parted, eyes half-closed but still linked with his. 

All too soon, her thigh muscles begin to tremble with her efforts.  When he realizes she is exhausted, he clutches her small waist and gently lays her back upon the blanket.  When he bends one of her knees to her chest in a flurry of white petticoats and yellow skirts to expose her sex to him fully, she gasps at the sensation of cool air on her naked, burning flesh.  He begins slowly and gently, rocking her body with his rhythmic thrusts.  When her small panting breaths become whimpers of need, he fervently pounds into her aching center until he can no longer hold back.  His seed erupts hotly inside her, but she greedily clutches him, holding him inside her warmth, refusing to let him part from her just yet. 

He continues to gently grind against her sensitive mound, planting small kisses across her cheeks and eyes, nibbling at her lips lightly with his teeth until her own traitorous muscles begin contracting and push him out.  She gives a bereft moan at the loss of his comforting presence inside her, but he silences her with a hot, deep, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sweeping insistently against her own.

Leaning heavily on one arm, he grasps her hand and guides it down to her swollen nub.  Together their combined fingers caress her secretly until she closes her eyes, throws her head back and shudders in complete abandon.  He slips a finger inside of her to experience her passion, reveling in the satiny tight contractions inside her body, and caresses an intimate spot that makes her cry out his name again and again.  She breathes deeply and lies unmoving until he kisses her parted lips gently.

“Sweetheart, would you rather we were going to that barn dance instead of being here?”  He puffs out an exhausted breath, collapsing on the quilt facing her and picking a wilted violet from her tousled tresses.

She sighs heavily and pushes her hair out of her eyes.  “Well, not if you’d planned on doing this at the dance,” she answers breathlessly, turning to mold her body to his and wriggle her skirts down to cover her nakedness.  “We might get arrested, Marshal Dillon.”

“For public indecency?”

“Something like that…”

“Miss Russell, I’d can’t think of anyone I’d rather see behaving indecently more than you.”  He smooths a damp lock of hair out of her face and caresses her flushed cheek with his thumb.

“Very funny, Cowboy.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

“Think we can go on another picnic when you get back from Hays City?”  She playfully bites at an enticing spot on the soft, musky-scented skin of his neck.

“Ow!  You wildcat…”  He chuckles and nibbles at her ear for good measure.  “I’ll sure try, honey.  I’ll sure try.”

She licks her lips and asks innocently, “Champagne, anyone?”

ljljljljlj

Dark Caller 2: Getting the Hat Back

This one turned out to be the steamiest of all.  Hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July.  You have been forewarned.

Another sultry mid-July night in Dodge.  A lullaby of chirping crickets accompanies a dark caller on his determined journey through a dimly-lit back alley of the slumbering city.  He makes his silent way up a steep, wooden staircase to his destination, an unlit bedroom containing the most desirable woman in town, whom he dares to hope will share with him her considerable charms.  Not to mention he needs to retrieve his best hat in the process…

He uses his key to unlock her door and slip noiselessly inside like he’s done countless times before.  Standing stock still, he waits for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside this utterly feminine room.  He expects her to be long asleep, since she never knows if he’ll have the time to visit her after his nightly rounds or not. 

He gingerly steps closer to the bed and his knees become weak with the unexpected sight that greets him.  The object of his desire lies stark naked atop the sheets, full breasts rising and falling with each gentle breath.  She is propped on pillows as if she had attempted to stay awake for his expected call, but her lushly lashed eyes had mutinously drifted onto her cheeks with the weariness born of a long evening of work downstairs.  The sight of such an abundance of exposed luminous skin after a whole day of thinking about her and the implication of her whispered words should he venture to retrieve his hat from her bedroom…  It is a little overwhelming.  And his Stetson lies strategically placed in her lily-white lap.  Whoa now.

Except for that damn hat hiding some of her charms, she reminds him of a beautiful full-length painting hanging over a fancy bar he’d visited in San Antonio years ago when he was still just a green kid.  He’d fallen in love with the girl in that painting with her small, sweet smile and big, beautiful… 

A gasp emanates from the bed before him. 

…And now he has the real thing right in front of him!  Son, you’ve come a hell of a long way over the years, he thinks to himself.

Now fully awake, she scolds, “You scared me silly!”

“Did I?”  He admires her appreciatively as she gives a small yawn, languidly stretching her arms over her head like a cat. 

She smiles at him coyly from behind long, copper red tresses that fall seductively across her face.  “See somethin’ you like?”

He growls.

Her lips twitch in amusement.  “Or somethin’ you’re missin’?” 

“Both.”  His eyes continue to rake over her creamy nakedness until a mischievous throaty laugh escapes her lips.  He snatches the hat and throws it heedlessly over his shoulder with a scowl.  She gives a small yelp as he dives on top of her and envelops her in his well-muscled arms.  

Wrapping her long legs tightly around his waist, she instantly cocks a dark brow at him.  “Are you carrying a gun, Marshal Dillon, or are you just glad to see me?”

“What?  Oh!  Sorry, honey.  I always forget…”

“You do get in an awful hurry sometimes, Cowboy, I know…”

Reaching between them, he makes quick, expert work of the buckle on his offending gun belt.  He drops it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed with a loud thud.

She wryly admonishes, “You know, one of these days that thing’s gonna go off.”

“Sorry, sweetheart...”  He nips distractingly at the soft skin of her neck with his teeth.

“And then what am I gonna say to the neighbors…?”  He silences any further comment by sliding his insistent tongue into her hot, sassy little mouth.  Moaning appreciatively, she grabs his well-proportioned backside and pulls him hard against her aching center. 

“Cowboy…” she pants between passionate kisses, “I think you’ve got too many clothes on for this to work right…”

He grunts in response, and she helps him relieve himself of his vest and shirt while he drops frenzied kisses on her breasts and belly.  Pulling away from her long enough to unbutton his pants, he is distracted by his unrestricted view of her deliciously exposed sex.  Noticing the direction of his gaze, she starts to remark on his indelicacy, but is forced to gasp instead when his long tongue begins to urgently lap and alternately enter her center. 

She feels positively molten with desire, and has a vague, passing worry that folks in the next county may be able to hear her passionate cries at this point.  His talented mouth nips and sucks her most sensitive spots, making her body writhe helplessly in response.  When he slides two fingers inside of her, pumping and teasing the swollen flesh, she at last feels herself contracting around his insistent fingers over and over again while blinding light explodes behind her eyes.  A final sob escapes her throat, and she lies boneless and sweating on the tangled sheets, sapphire eyes hooded and lips parted seductively. 

Smiling wickedly at her sultry, sated expression, he places a hot, lingering kiss on her glistening sex one last time before quickly removing his boots and pants.  He glides easily into her satiny opening, groaning as he feels her intimate muscles still twitching around his hardness.  He helps her wrap her legs around his naked middle and kisses her on the forehead as he slowly pumps within her. 

“Wake up, baby,” he cajoles as he brushes his fingers across her flushed cheek and kisses her closed eyes.  “Don’t fall asleep on me yet…”

“Mmm…?”  She opens one eye and blows stray curls out of her face.  “Get in the saddle, Cowboy, and speed it up if you don’t want to lose this race.”

He rubs a hand thoughtfully over his jaw as he considers her words.  “You ready to ride?”

“Hey, wait a minute, Cowb…”

Suddenly pulling out of her, he grasps her small waist securely.  She grunts in protest as he unceremoniously flips her over on her stomach.  Raking fiery red hair out of her eyes, she frowns uncertainly over her shoulder at him.

“Grab hold, honey,” he says through gritted teeth, indicating she should hold on to the brass headboard.  She barely has time to make it to her knees and securely latch onto the metal bars at the head of the bed before he is bending her over and entering her from behind.  

For a brief wild moment, she is afraid the bed will collapse, but the thought is wiped completely from her mind as he seizes her waist and begins pounding into her with a fury.  His sheer strength and size makes him a force to be reckoned with, and it is all she can do to hold on.  His body drips sweat with his efforts, his breathing ragged.  When she thinks she might not have the strength to support herself any longer, at last he gives a hoarse cry, and she feels his burning hot seed spilling urgently inside of her. 

She collapses back against his broad chest with trembling limbs and moans softly as she feels one large hand reach around to fondle her breasts until her nipples ache with pleasure.  The other hand snakes down to caress her sensitive feminine nub.  He is a considerate lover, but she protests with an exhausted voice, “Oh, I don’t think I can…”

He smooths her wild hair out of her face and gently guides her chin around to kiss him deeply.  She feels a long finger slip inside her at the same time.  She comes softly this time, and he supports her securely as her limp, sweat-sheened body shudders slowly and rhythmically. 

He marvels at the seductive feeling of her intimate muscles contracting around his fingers.  He is in wonder that he has this power over her, that he can do this to her…that he can do this for her.

“Oh my god…”  She groans in a weak voice, “One of these days you’re gonna’ kill me…”

They drop in an exhausted heap on the bed, spooned together.  One of his large hands wraps around to cup her full breast and the other hand lands possessively over the curls of her mound. 

She murmurs tiredly, “Are you sleeping here tonight, Cowboy?”  She reaches back to run her fingers appreciatively through his thick, dark curls.

“Yep.”

“Good.  Are you glad you came back for your hat?”

“Yep.”

“Me too…”

“Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Sweet dreams, Cowboy.”

ljljljljlj

Dark Caller

This story is intended for mature audiences.

The blackest, loneliest hours of the morning, the formerly bustling town now fast asleep.  Dusty, rutted streets deserted.  No voices, no movement…only dimly wavering lantern light and inky, impenetrable shadows.  The pulsating, rhythmic songs of insects are the sole accompaniment of a silent, vigilant traveler.

A sultry breeze whispers through drifting lace curtains at an upstairs bedroom window, darkened and secluded.  She sleeps serenely at last, bedclothes tangled and abandoned in the mid-summer heat, gossamer white nightgown luminescent in the dusky light, clinging suggestively to generous, womanly curves.  Elegant titian hair falls loosely in waves over one shoulder, rising and falling evenly with each tranquil breath she takes in repose.

The doorknob silently turns and an ebony shadow slips stealthily within like a feral animal from the outlying prairie.  Silent footsteps warily approach while watchful eyes roam hungrily over the unconscious female form, slumbering blissfully unaware.  He languidly takes in thick lashes against milky white skin and full breasts lifting gently with each unsuspecting breath.  The shapely form scarcely concealed beneath her filmy nightgown leaves him yearning to feel her warm flesh beneath his impatient hands.

He perches noiselessly on the edge of her bed like a cat, carefully removes his hat and drops it soundlessly to the floor.  Daringly, he takes a lock of flaming red hair between his fingers, lifting it to his nose.  Detecting the distinctly feminine aroma of exotic oils and bath soaps, he closes his eyes and covetously rubs the perfumed silkiness over his stubbly cheek and sensitized lips, imagining what she would taste like. 

His brash scrutiny wanders languorously down her voluptuous body.  Boldly, he lifts the hem of her thin nightgown and skims it slowly up, up…over long, shapely legs, sensuous bare hips and softly rounded belly, revealing her creamy nakedness to his overheated gaze while he stifles an impassioned groan.  He takes a deep breath, inhaling the heady, musky scent of her, and he must struggle to conquer the overpowering desire to move faster, to take her body quickly.

He softly trails a hand up one leg and over her full hip, smiling when she stirs with a breathless sigh.  His fingertips tease her damp red curls apart, and his own breathing becomes ragged when her lips part suggestively and she bends one knee as if to offer herself fully to him.   Stroking her warm, vulnerable sex with long, lingering fingers, he bites his lip soundlessly as she responds to his skillful, probing touch with throaty moans and soft whimpers.  He nearly comes, listening to the primitive sounds he elicits from her, even in her sleep.  She is slick, swollen, and ready for him.

When her lush hips begin moving nearly imperceptibly yet wantonly, taking his breath away with their primal rhythm, he can no longer ignore his own aching, throbbing desire.  He gratefully loosens his uncomfortably confining pants and slips hotly between her legs, moving slowly, slowly, slowly inside of her velvety entrance.  He pushes her nightgown higher and ravishes her with voracious lips, her back arching instinctively, a silent plea offering her soft, heaving breasts to his scorching mouth.

 

When he reaches down and touches her secret woman’s place again, she cries out and cries out an unintelligible name.  Her passionate surrender triggers his own undoing.  He comes inside of her satiny softness at last, in a blinding release that makes his body sweat and tremble uncontrollably.  When he regretfully pulls out of her most intimate embrace, she utters a tiny bereft sound that makes him groan.

    

Kissing her inflamed pink buds, still straining from the lavish attentions of his mouth, her soft belly, and finally her mound of thick red curls, he appreciatively inhales her intoxicating scent one last time.  Reluctantly, he pulls her nightgown back down over her glistening damp, bare body.  Pausing to listen for her sated sighs and finally the even breaths of deep sleep again, he soundlessly slips out the door and down the wooden stairs to the darkened, lonely street below.

ljljljljlj

Doc and Festus sit at a table in the Long Branch, sipping coffee and arguing about the weather.  “Now, Doc, you know it ain’t usually this gol-dern hot during the nighttime…”

A graceful vision in butter yellow with upswept copper curls, Kitty carries the morning paper and her own cup of coffee, joining her two bickering friends at the table.

Doc growls, “What in thunder do you mean, Festus?  Mornin’, Kitty…  It’s July, for heaven’s sakes!  What do you expect?”

“Well, now I ‘spect it was so hot last night I purt near had to sleep out on the roof to get a little smidge of fresh air!”

Doc grumbles, eyes searching heavenward, “Oh, goodness gracious…”

Frowning, Kitty scolds, “Now, you two, don’t you have anything better to talk about than the weather?”  Delicately painted lips carefully sip from her hot cup as she unfolds the newspaper.

Matt enters the saloon through the swinging doors and ambles toward their table, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt.  He scowls, “Kitty, are these two at it again?” 

She looks over the top of her paper at him.  “I’m afraid so, Matt.”  She regards him wordlessly, but her eyes softly gleam when she looks at him.  The corners of Matt’s mouth turn up enigmatically in a warm, private smile as he returns her intent gaze. 

Their subtle, silent communication is interrupted by an oblivious Festus.  “Matthew, whar’s yer hat?”

“I…um, I’ve managed to lose it somewhere…” Matt sheepishly replies.

Kitty’s brows delicately arch.  “Really.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got an old hat back at the office I can wear…”  Matt avoids her eyes and quickly changes the subject, “Festus, you wanna ride up to the Bailey homestead with me this morning?  I want to check on old man Bailey.  Moss Grimmick tells me he’s been feelin’ poorly…”

“Shore, Matthew, I’ll ride with ya’.”

Kitty rises as if to leave, tucking her paper under her arm and retrieving her coffee.  “I’ve got to meet with the whiskey drummer in a little while.  You boys have fun on your little trip.”  She sidles up close to Matt and huskily murmurs in his ear, “And if you come back and see me again tonight, I may give you your hat back.”  Winking slyly at him, she swishes toward her office in a whispering, deliciously fragrant cloud of delicate yellow fabric.  Matt stares wistfully after her.

Festus squints curiously at him, scratching his head.  “What’d she say, Matthew?”

Hurriedly, Doc intervenes, “Oh, never you mind, Festus.  Now, if we’re goin’ to Mr. Bailey’s place, we’d better get goin’.”

“Now who said you was goin’, you old scudder…”

Matt sighs heavily and heads out the door of the Long Branch, hatless, thinking what a long wait it will be for evening…

ljljljljlj

Possession 2: Chapter 7, "Family"

This chapter contains a passel of dialogue and plot from the Gunsmoke episode Daddy-O, Season 2 (June 1, 1957) written by John Meston. 

“What about the money?  Did you get it?”  Wayne Russell apprehensively queried his impeccably attired daughter who had met him at the stage depot unaccountably empty-handed. 

“No, I didn’t,” Kitty replied airily.  Matt watched the exchange warily from a few feet away.

“What?”  Russell’s face became a mask. 

“Well, I changed my mind at the last minute,” she explained, smiling coolly.  She was secretly testing her father’s allegiance.  Kitty attempted to appear nonchalant, but she was getting a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at her father’s apparent change in demeanor. 

Russell’s tone became vaguely menacing.  “What do you mean?” 

“Well, I got thinking about it last night and I decided I might as well leave it right here in in the Long Branch with Bill Pence.  It’s a good investment, and I can always come back and sell out if I need to.”  She was thankful for Matt’s comforting presence since she wasn’t sure how her father would react to her news. 

“Now, look here, Kitty,” Russell insisted.  “I’m deciding everything for you from now on.”

She cajolingly took his arm and drew him toward the door of the conveyance.  “We’ll talk about it on the stage...” 

“No!”  Her father jerked roughly from her grasp.  Kitty was shocked at the speed at which Russell’s attitude changed.  Until now, he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman.  But luckily, she and Matt had not been fooled by Wayne Russell’s charming act.  He demanded, “No, we don’t go until you get that money.”

Kitty asked sadly, “Which is it you really want?  Me or the money?”

“That isn’t the question.  You just do as I say!”

She had heard enough.   Kitty’s eyes were flashing with years of repressed resentment and bitterness toward the man who had deserted her and her mother.  “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?  Mother always said you’d never change, and she was right.”  She added accusingly, “And don’t tell me you own a freight business in New Orleans…”

“That’s enough, Kitty!” Russell grabbed her arm.

Now Matt had had enough.  He barked in warning, “Russell!”

“You stay out of this, Marshal.  She’s my daughter.”

Kitty furiously spat out, “And you’re just another man to me.  And a crook besides.”

“You’ll be sorry for this, Kitty,” Russell admonished.

Kitty’s voice quavered with emotion.  “I’d be even sorrier if I let you steal my money.” 

Matt reassured her, “It’s alright, Kitty.  I think he understands now.”

Russell, his face incredulous, suddenly backed away from them in realization, “You’re in this together!  You had it all planned, didn’t you?  Didn’t you?!”  He should have known that any daughter of his would be a savvy girl.  Way too savvy for the likes of him…

Matt quickly moved to place his hands protectively on Kitty’s trembling shoulders.

Suddenly, the stage driver’s voice called out, “Hey, anybody goin’ on this stage better get in.  I’m pullin’ out.”

Matt interjected, “Well, Russell, you’ve played it pretty smart so far.  Don’t disappoint us now.  See it through, huh?  Play it all the way…”  He gave Russell a pointed stare.  “…for Kitty’s sake.”

Kitty’s devastation and disappointment was painfully obvious in her expression.  “Please, Father.”  She pleaded, “Please get on that stage.  Leave me at least that much pride.”

He conceded, “Yes…”  Wayne Russell somehow knew that it was useless to stand up to the both of them. 

Kitty closed her eyes in anguish as Russell gave his daughter one last bittersweet kiss on the cheek.

Russell murmured, “Goodbye…”  He looked as if he wanted to say more.  “Kitty?”

Kitty hurriedly cut short any further reply, “Goodbye, father.”

Matt wrapped a protective arm around Kitty as they watched her father ride out of Dodge in the stagecoach, murmuring wistfully, “Well, you were right about him, Kitty…”

Then Matt walked Kitty silently back to the Long Branch Saloon.

ljljljljlj

“Miss Kitty!” Bill Pence happily exclaimed.  “I thought you was leavin’ on the stage…”

“Changed my mind, Bill.  Will you take me back?”

Bill had been pretty much dejected at Kitty’s apparent desertion of their short-lived partnership.  She’d been the best thing to happen to him and the Long Branch since…well, since he’d bought the place.  

“Did you hear that, boys?”  Bill shouted jubilantly to the saloon’s afternoon crowd.  “Miss Kitty is stayin’ in Dodge!”  He quickly poured himself, Kitty, and the Marshal a shot of their best whiskey and raised his glass.  “Here’s to the best and purtiest business partner in all of Dodge City!”  Bill wasn’t sure what had transpired between Kitty and her father that afternoon, but he was appreciative of the fact that he himself had definitely come out a winner.

Shouts and glasses were raised around the room.  Men laughed and pounded Bill Pence on the back while they beamed and removed their hats and told Miss Kitty how pleased they were that she would be gracing the Long Branch with her presence for a long time to come.  It wouldn’t have been the same without her, no, not a’tall, they insisted. 

Kitty smiled graciously at her well-wishers and gratefully downed her whiskey, then quickly asked Bill for another.  Matt knew she was just putting on a brave face.  The confrontation with her father had taken a lot out of her.  She hadn’t uttered a word on their walk back to the saloon.  She’d just hung on tight to the supporting arm he offered her. 

Kitty whispered in Matt’s ear that she needed to be alone for a little while.  She made her excuses to Bill, and they watched silently as she gracefully swept up the wooden staircase to her room in a swish of elegant green velvet.

ljljljljlj

Matt resolutely climbed the steps to Kitty’s room.  He’d only waited downstairs a few minutes before he could stand it no more.  He knew she was suffering, and Matt didn’t wish for her to suffer alone.  Kitty had been alone for far too much of her life, as far as he was concerned.  He was bound and determined to do something about that.

He gave a small knock at her door and wasn’t surprised when she failed to answer.   So he fished a key tied with soft, green satin ribbon out of his pocket and turned it quietly in the lock.  Matt found her lying on her side in bed in her delicate, lacy women’s underthings, green velvet clothing trailing across the floor where she’d heedlessly discarded them.  The sound of Kitty’s quiet sobbing wrenched his heart.    

Hanging his hat noiselessly on the bedpost and placing his boots on the floor, he carefully slid onto the bed and spooned up behind Kitty’s shuddering, feverish body.  He wrapped his arms around her small waist and kissed her gently on one bare shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, honey,” he murmured in her ear, setting off a fresh wave of sobs that wracked her and, in turn, went right through him.  He held her more tightly and whispered “Shhh….” softly in her ear for an eternity until her grieving cries slowly lessened in intensity.  Rejected and abandoned by her own father not once…but twice now in her lifetime. 

“I’m sorry, Matt…” Kitty’s breath hitched as she attempted to regain her composure.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Kitty.  You have every right to be upset.”  Matt smoothed her mussed curls off her flushed, hot face.

“I hate to be such a bother to you…” she apologized, and his heart ached for this woman who desperately needed someone to lean on.

“You’re no bother to me, sweetheart.  That’s what friends are for…”

She turned her head to look at him and repeated, “Friends?”

“Well, you’re my girl, aren’t you?”  He carefully wiped her streaming tears away with the back of his hand.

“Am I?”

“Sure, you are…  You’ve got to let me take care of you from now on, see?”

“Oh, Matt…”  She squirmed around until she was facing him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “I don’t think anybody has ever looked out for me the way you do.”  A concerned look crossed her features.  “And I don’t think of you just as another man…like I said to my father.”

“I know, honey.  You were just mad.  And truthfully, you haven’t had a lot of men in your life who’ve treated you right, so you can pretty much lump them into one category.  You’ve got a right to be mad.”

She squeezed his neck more tightly, gratefully and wordlessly kissing his nose.    

Matt caressed her arm comfortingly as he continued, “I really am sorry that things didn’t work out for you with your father, Kitty.  I know how you feel.  I told you how I lost my family when I was young, too…”

Kitty’s eyes filled with tears anew.  “It sure is hard.  You know what it’s like.  Sometimes I just feel so alone…”

Matt stroked her damp cheek with his thumb and then lovingly kissed each of her eyelids in turn.  “That’s why we’ve got to stick together, you and me.  I’m sorry that you can’t depend on your father, honey, but…you’ve got me.”

“Promise?” She gazed into his eyes searchingly, her heart swelling with gratitude.  

“I promise."  He cupped her chin in one hand and brushed his lips gently against hers, still swollen from crying.  “I’ll be here for you, Kitty.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cowboy,” she smiled through her tears, and then nestled her head against his broad chest, reassuring herself with the steady rhythm of Matt’s strong, comforting heartbeat in her ear.

ljljljljlj

Possession 2: Chapter 6, "Sleepy Kitty with the Key to My Heart"

This chapter contains a smattering of plot from the Gunsmoke episode Daddy-O, Season 2 (June 1, 1957) written by John Meston. 

“Kitty?”

“Mmm…?”

“Kitty?  I’m sorry…  Wake up, honey…”

Kitty rubbed her eyes drowsily so that she could just make out Matt’s form leaning over her bed in the moonlit room.  “Wh…what is it, Matt?  Is something wrong?”

“I told you I’d be back later to discuss the problem with your father…”  He cleared his throat.  “Here I am…”  Matt sighed.  “I’m really sorry it’s so late, but after I got back from the Bugg farm, there was a brawl out back of the Lady Gay, and Chester and I had to take a whole bunch of cowhands and two saloon girls to the jail.  It was a mess, I’ll tell you…” 

She giggled groggily, and he caressed her sleep-flushed cheek.  “Gosh, I’m sorry, honey, but I’m here now…  And why in heaven’s name is your door still not locked?!”  He jerked his thumb at the door.  “I just waltzed right in here!”

Kitty smiled sleepily at him, “It’s not locked because I was waiting for you, silly man.”  She gave an enormous yawn.  “Did Bill let you into the saloon?”

“Yeah…  Hey, have you ever thought about putting in an outside entrance to this room?  Maybe some stairs leading down to the back alley?  So you don’t have to be so obvious and go through the public room to…to get here…I mean…”

Beaming happily and raking tousled curls out of her eyes, she said, “I think that’s a fine idea, Matthew Dillon.”  She sat up and patted the bedside.  “I’m just pleased you’re back.”

Matt thought she looked so young and sweet, wearing only a loose, thin, white cotton shift with her hair in a messy braid over one shoulder.  A man could get used to this.  He sat down with a tired sigh, and she kneeled on the bed behind him, taking off his hat and depositing it on the bedpost.  She helped him remove his boots and slide them under the bed, then shrug off his vest and shirt, tossing them on a chair.  The pants were the last to go. 

She snuggled up behind him, her body still warm from the bedclothes, and nestled her chin on his shoulder.  She raked her nails slowly back and forth across his back, causing an involuntary shudder throughout his aching muscles.  “Oh, Kitty… “

“Mmm?”

“That feels good.”

“Hard night, huh?”

“Yeah…now tell me what is going to happen tomorrow.  When your father is ready to leave for New Orleans…”

“Well, I told you I wanted to give him a chance to show his true colors.  I’m going to show up for the trip with no money.  To see how he reacts.  Will you go there with me, Matt?  I don’t know what to expect…”

“Sure, I’ll go with you, Kitty.  You think you have a pretty good idea what he’ll do?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  I don’t think he really wants me.  I think he only wants my money.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Kitty.  Any man would be lucky to have a daughter like you.”

“He doesn’t think so.  He doesn’t think I’m a proper lady.”

“You’re all the lady I’d ever need…”

“Oh, Matt, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not, honey.”

“You’re so good to me, Matt.  What did I ever do to deserve you?”  Matt could see tears shining in her eyes in the moonlight.

“Because you’re my sweet girl…”  He touched her face softly and drew her near for a kiss.  Kitty broke away long enough to wriggle her nightgown up.

Matt helped Kitty pull the shift over her head and asked, “What’s this?”  It was a key on a green ribbon tied around her neck.

“It’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah, yours, Matt.  So I can lock my door and you can still get in.  Okay?”

“Okay, honey.”  He pulled the ribbon over her head and looped it around his own neck, hanging over his heart, for safe-keeping.   

ljljljljlj

Possession 2: Chapter 5, "Unlocked Doors and Bruised Lips"

This chapter contains a bushel of dialogue and plot from the Gunsmoke episode Daddy-O, Season 2 (June 1, 1957) written by John Meston. 

“Well, Matt, you wanna hear the news?  I’m leavin’.  I’m goin’ back to New Orleans.  I decided this afternoon.”

Matt sat at a table in the Long Branch with Kitty and her father Wayne Russell, stunned senseless at her announcement.

He asked incredulously, “You mean that?”                                                                     

Kitty beamed happily, “Bill Pence is buying back my share of the place for cash…”  Matt noticed Bill standing morosely at the bar with a particularly hang-dog expression on his face, dispiritedly watching the three of them as they talked.

Kitty’s father fairly crowed, “We had a long talk this afternoon, Marshal.  Kitty finally made up her mind.  She’s going to do what’s right.” 

“I’m gonna’ put the money in my father’s freight business, Matt.”  Matt found the adoring smile she was giving Wayne Russell hard to stomach.

Her father declared, “We’re gonna’ be great partners, we two.  I’m mighty proud of my daughter.”

Matt thought Kitty had lost her mind for sure when she acquiesced, “You know he’s right, Matt.  This isn’t any place for a lady.  This is my last night in any saloon ever.”

“Your last night?” Matt exclaimed.

Kitty pointed out, “Well, there’s no sense in putting it off.  We’re gonna’ leave tomorrow.” 

Matt felt crushed.  Last night?

As Matt ruminated on the import of Kitty’s pronouncement, Russell’s voice was a distant nattering in his ear, “Oh that reminds me…the tickets.  Will there be anybody at the stage office at this hour?  Well if you’ll excuse me I’ll go take care of it.  I’m a proud man…a proud, happy man.”

Matt was vaguely aware of Russell sympathetically pounding his shoulder as he departed in triumph to purchase their tickets to New Orleans.

With a forlorn expression, Matt gloomily asked, “So he finally convinced you, huh?”

She gave Matt a watchful smile, “Well, he’s a pretty smart talker when he really tries.”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Matt grimaced.

“What’s the matter, Matt?  Don’t you like him?”  Kitty eyed him cagily.

“It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not.”  Matt admitted, “The point is I don’t trust him.”

Kitty’s expression altered when Matt confirmed her suspicions.  “Now we’re gettin’ someplace.”

“What?”

“I don’t trust him either.  And I’m gonna’ need your help.  Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”  Kitty led him upstairs to the privacy of her bedroom.

jljljljljl

Matt strode into the bedroom close on Kitty’s heels.  He backed her into the door, a troubled frown creasing his eyes, “Now, let’s get one thing straight…you’re not really leaving, right?”

Kitty gulped as she looked up at him.  “Of course not, Matt!”

“Dammit, Kitty, you nearly scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry, Matt.  That act was for my father’s benefit.”

“Yeah, but you coulda’ warned me first!”

“I didn’t have time…”

“Holy smokes, I thought you were really leaving.”

Kitty coyly gazed at him through sweeping lashes, “You mean you don’t want me to leave, Matt?”

“Of course I don’t want you to leave, Kitty!  For Pete’s sake!”  He grabbed her and kissed her hard, so hard Kitty figured she’d have the bruises to show for it the next day.  She didn’t care.  She blissfully kissed him right back, wholeheartedly gratified that he’d been so thoroughly unsettled at the thought of her moving back to New Orleans. 

When he finally came up for air, she murmured breathlessly, “I’m sorry, Matt, I didn’t mean to upset you so.  But I really do need your help.”

Matt grunted as he reluctantly released her and put some distance between them, the better to discuss her predicament in an undistracted fashion.  He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.  “What can I do to help you?”

“I want him to show his true colors, Matt.  Tomorrow afternoon, I want you to meet him at the stage depot and tell him I’ll be along shortly…”

Another pressing thought struck Matt as Kitty spoke mid-sentence.  “And another thing…I want you to start locking your door, Miss Russell!”

“Locking my door?  But…”

“Yeah, anybody could walk in here…and you could be…takin’ a bath or…somethin’.”  He cleared his throat noisily.  

“Alright, Matt, I’ll start locking my door, I promise.”

He glowered at her, “You’d better…”

“Or what?” she asked with delicately raised brows.

“Or what?” he repeated.

“You said ‘you’d better’ and I said ‘or what?’  She smiled coquettishly at him.  “What would happen?”

He growled and wrapped her in an enormous bear hug.  “Don’t argue with me, young lady, or I’ll turn you over my knee…”

“Promise?” she bit her lip and arched one eyebrow at him.

“Kathleen Russell, why I oughta’…”

Kitty squealed as he swept her off her feet and across his lap in the blink of an eye.  “Matt, don’t you dare!” she protested as he raised his hand threateningly above her backside.

“Mr. Dillon!”  A familiar voice called plaintively from the other side of the door.

“Oh hell…“  Matt swiped a hand over his face in complete and utter frustration.  He bellowed, “WHAT, CHESTER?” as his red-headed prisoner squirmed away.

Kitty snorted in an unladylike fashion and collapsed onto the bed in silent giggles as Chester called, “We got us another unfortunate quandary with ol’ Tater and Smarty...”

Matt stalked toward the door while Kitty hissed at him, “Wait a minute, will ya’?” jumping up to straighten her dress.

She stood behind a morose Matt, peeking over his shoulder as he jerked open the door.  “Hi, Chester!” she exclaimed nonchalantly, blowing an errant curl off her forehead. 

“Well, hello there, Miss Kitty, aren’t you looking lovely and rosy as ever?  Oh, is that a little bruise you got there on your lip?  What on earth happened…?”

“Chester!” barked Matt.

“Yes sir, Mr. Dillon…well, it seems the wives have started in on each other now.  There was a terrible incident involving frying pans and rolling pins and what-have-you…and even some week-old bacon grease, from what I hear.  It was not a purty sight.  Maybe you can come along with me, Mr. Dillon, and I can explain the rest along the way…”

Kitty sighed and surreptitiously gave Matt’s backside a covert squeeze.  He gave a little yelp and hopped through the door, turning back to shoot her a look.  She simply arched a brow at him and smiled slyly in reply.

“You okay, Mr. Dillon?”

“Yeah, Chester, I’m just peachy.  I’ll see you later, young lady,” he said pointedly.  “And we’ll discuss that…matter…that we didn’t get around to discussing…before.  I promise.”

ljljljljlj