Devilish Intimacy (Otis Driftwood x OFC)

Chapter 1

Red Hot Pussy Liquors. That was my destination on this hot and dusty sunny evening in Ruggsville County, Texas in the year of 1978. Ruggsville County was my place of birth, but I no longer lived there. My residence was in bum fuck Egypt in a place called Charlie's Frontier Fun Town. I was in Ruggsville County on family business, and I needed a drink after dealing with my affairs, or should I say, lack of.

Charlie Altamont, better known as Wolf J. Flywheel, was the owner of Fun Town. He was an excellent boss, a saint compared to my last one, but that was over ten years ago and a whole different story. Charlie took care of his employees, and he was a lot of fun, too. He liked to party. Cocaine was his drug of choice. The things I loved most about Charlie were he never ripped off his employees, and he never beat on us. He was generous. The fact that he cared was the reason why I was in Ruggsville County in the first place.

Coasting into the parking lot of the brightly lit neon liquor store, I parked my car and shut off the engine. Correction - it wasn't my car; the beautiful teal 1976 Cadillac El Dorado belonged to Charlie.

That's what I mean when I say he's generous. What pimp lets his bitches drive his car?

I wasn't the only patron at the liquor store. There was a tow truck in the parking spot across from mine. Climbing out of the convertible, I fondly patted the glossy finish and sashayed towards the front door of the liquor store. The sounds of moans were already coming from inside. I smiled brightly. You see, Red Hot Pussy Liquors wasn't your average liquor store. It was also the dwelling of the area's largest porn selection.

Throwing open the door, I stalked inside. Rows upon rows of alcohol and porn films were laid out before me, a cold box was on my right, and the register was on my left.

"Evenin', beautiful!" the man called from behind the counter. "Welcome to Red Hot Pussy Liquors! You just lemme know if you need any help!"

Waving my fingertips, I glanced at his name tag. It read G. Ober with an O drawn between.

I flashed the overzealous, pudgy dork a sexy smirk. "Hey there, Goober."

"Actually, the name's not Goober. It's-"

"Yeah, yeah. Ain't got time fer sentimental stories. I'll let ya know if I can't find somethin'."

Turning my gaze forward, I swaggered into one of the aisles. I was after a good, strong whiskey. Glimpsing over the different kinds of alcohol as I passed them by, I shook my head.

"Bourbon, no. Gin, no. Rum, no...where the fuck's the whiskey?" I muttered under my breath.

Rounding the corner, I strolled into the next aisle. A muscled man looking over Tequila at the opposite end could be considered a giant. He had to be at least 6'6". Long, curly chestnut hair covered his face, and he had on a sleeveless red flannel shirt and jeans. He seemed vaguely familiar. Most likely, he was the owner of the tow truck outside.

Spotting my drink of choice, Black Velvet Canadian whiskey, I swiped a bottle from the shelf.

"Ahh, here we go," I said, pleased with my find. As I headed to the counter, an inquisitive high-pitched female voice from the next aisle grabbed my attention.

"Cherry?" she inquired.

At the sound of my name, I stopped in my tracks. A head of naturally curly, bleach-blonde hair and friendly royal blue eyes peered at me from over top the aisle.

"Baby?! Holy shit!" I exclaimed. Vera-Ellen Wilson was her real name, but no one outside of the Firefly family knew that. Because I worked for Charlie, I was considered to be a part of that family.