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Sureshot! A BonBon Tale by "JohnnyPsycho" based upon Pleasure BonBon by Vanessa Santato This story was written in homage to the amazing work of Italian artist Vanessa Santato and her webcomic "Pleasure Bon Bon". Most of the story takes place in the legendary city of Bon Bon, and quite a few of the characters in this story are based upon the original artist's work. As a fan, I hope to stay true to Miss Santato's characters, while placing them in a sort of "side story" that takes place roughly around the same time as the current Bon Bon story depicted in "Pleasure Bon Bon". "BonBon", "Daisy Nugget", "Sibilla La Noire", and the majority of characters in this story are © Vanessa Santato "Johnny Six-Killer", "Jackalope Bill Bircham", and most of the secondary characters are creatons of the author, JohnnyPsycho Special cameo appearances by Xebulon Burke and Camarilla "Cammy" Fuchs, who are creations of their respective players. Author's note: If this is the first of my works you are reading, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING!! This is the SECOND chapter of the tale, so please read the previous chapter before reading ahead. Thank you! * * *

Chapter 2

• * * Bon Bon, along the Italian-Austrian border, 1895. Johnny pulled his jacket on over his shoulders as he walked out of Dalila and Ophelia Champagne's bedroom and quickly looked up and down the hallway. His keen ears could make out the soft sounds of lovemaking and other delights being enjoyed beyond closed doors. Just underneath those voices, he could hear the sounds of the busy casino downstairs. Just moments ago, he enjoyed the company of one of the ladies who worked in the Castle, and aside from having lightened his wallet, he was in much higher spirits than he was all week. Wandering down the luxuriously decorated hallway, he began to tune-out the voices and sounds in the air as his mind once again mulled over his current predicament. In little more than a half hour from now, he was expected to attend the first performance of one of his closest friends on the stage of the Delight Castle's Strip-Tease Theater, and two things were running through his mind. One, he was still unsure how he truly felt about Daisy stripping down to her bare fur in front of a theater full of horny, rich tourists. Their long-term friendship had always been based on mutual respect for each other's freedom. He was never one to stop Daisy from doing anything she put her mind on doing... hell, her free-spirited nature was perhaps her most admirable quality. Still, his feelings for her tended to go past mere friendship, and from time to time he found respecting her freedom to be counter to a natural inclination to be closer to her. The second thought going through Johnny Six-Killer's mind as he descended the stairs to the casino below was just how he was going to get Daisy back for her little trick. Even though he enjoyed much of it (especially his time with the delightful Dalila Champagne), he did not so much enjoy the end result (his empty wallet). Due to their mutually competitive natures, Johnny couldn't just let such a trick go uncontested. That would be the same as conceding defeat in his book. He walked through the busy casino floor, his mind entirely preoccupied with his predicaments, when suddenly a familiar voice called out to him. "I suppose you thought you could come to Bon Bon without saying 'hello' to me, cowboy?" Pulled from his thoughts, Johnny immediately smiled widely as he turned around, instantly knowing the voice's owner. A gorgeous vixen was looking at him, wearing the smart, professional attire of a doctor and chemist, the large white lab coat being the most telling portion of her wardrobe. The well dressed vixen stood with her hands at her hips, her eyes peering over the rims of her spectacles with a feigned look of disappointment, the way a teacher may look at a mischievous pupil. Johnny chuckled with delighted surprise at her presence. "I keep telling you, Doc, I ain't never worked with any cows," Johnny replied, correcting his friend for calling him 'cowboy'. Despite having taken part in a few cattle rustling jobs in his outlaw days, Johnny never truly had a knack for herding the beasts, yet it never stopped other folks from making the honest mistake. Fraulein Doktor Camarilla Fuchs laughed and nodded her head, "Ja, I keep forgetting. How are you, Johnny?" "To be honest, Doc, I'm a bit surprised," Johnny said as he pulled his hat off his head and shook the gorgeous vixen's well-manicured hand. "I half expected you to still be in Paris, or traveling with that detective fella'. What are you doing in Bon Bon?" "Oh, I've been living her for a while now," the doctor replied with a smile, adding with just a touch of sincerity, "I found this village to be quite a bit more open to having a frau for a doctor than most others. Plus, a quiet place like this wouldn't likely raise a fuss over some of my... experiments." "I only just noticed the advertisements for your show," Dr. Fuchs continued. "It seems I was right in theorizing that I would find you in here." Johnny blushed a bit, scratching the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed that his actions were so predictable, and the doctor smiled knowingly. At that moment, he noticed that the doctor wasn't alone, and that a very well dressed bear was standing behind her. Noticing Johnny's glance, the doctor giggled and began to apologize, "I"m sorry, Xeb, how rude of me. I broke off our discussion to talk to my friend here, didn't I?" The large gentleman bear, looking quite distinguished while wearing a monocle in his left eye and a well maintained mustache on his muzzle, waved away her apology graciously. "No, no, think nothing of it, my dear doctor. In fact, I came over here to introduce myself to your friend. I am Xebulon Burke. Very glad to meet you, sir!" Johnny offered his hand and introduced himself, "Johnny Six-Killer, shootist and performer for 'Jackalope Bircham's Wild West', nice to meet you." "Oh, a pleasure, sir, a pleasure!" the gentleman said as he shook Johnny's hand vigorously in a strong paw. "I would never have guessed I would have met a 'bona fide gunslinger' here!" "Herr Six-Killer and I are old acquaintances," the doctor said to Xebulon, "We were both involved in a certain adventurous caper back in Paris a couple of years ago.." Johnny nodded, "Yes, well, we do go a long way... Um, tell me, Mr. Burke, what do you do for a living? You obviously seem to be a man of some education." He was trying his best to be as polite and accommodating to this new person. Truthfully, he didn't want to reminisce too much about that particular adventure and was eager to change the subject. "Herr Burke is an author of some fame back in his home of London," Dr. Fuchs answered for her friend. "Yes, have you ever read The Savage Land, The Adventures of Jonathon Sterling in the American West? It was one of the first of my writings to become popular." Xebulon asked enthusiastically. Johnny had to admit that he hadn't, though he didn't often read long books. "We actually met one day at the bookstore in town, discussing our favorite authors," explained Dr. Fuchs. "He and I were just discussing some of the current politics of both of our countries of origin when I saw you walk by." "Yes, I would like to hear more stories about your American West some day," the author added. "I'd sure like that, though I'm afraid my views of my 'country of origin' might be a bit more colored by my own experiences than some other folks from America," Johnny answered soberly. Xebulon nodded, adding, "I've often told my students that one should not remain ignorant of the world around them, and that not every history written in books can be automatically construed as the whole story. It's a lesson I learned from my early years traveling the world and studying foreign cultures with my family." "Oh yes, that's right," Doktor Fuchs added,"Xebulon, you worked as a tutor for a while before coming to this town, correct?" Johnny smiled, but secretly he was gritting his teeth. Ever since his times at the Indian School, Johnny had always had a bit of a grudge against teachers. He would have rather been shaking hands with a murderous outlaw or a blood-thirsty bounty-hunter right now. Truth be told, Johnny had only really ever trusted one teacher in his whole life... Suddenly, Johnny's eye's got wide, and that trademarked grin returned to his face as a brilliant idea popped in his head. "A teacher, you say?" Johnny spoke to the gentleman with renewed interest. "Tell me, Mr. Burke, if you don't mind, but where exactly is that book shop you spoke of earlier? Your story reminded me of a friend whom I think would enjoy a nice gift..." * * * She sat at her dressing table, staring at a large poster that had been delivered to her just moments earlier. Grinning widely, she could hardly believe that the beautiful coyote on poster was really her. She would have to compliment the artist for her loving rendition of the cowgirl, clad in a risqué western costume, with a gun slung on her hip and a coiled lasso in hand. The poster announced a limited live performance on the famous stage of the Delight Castle, the most luxurious casino and brothel in Bon Bon, the city of sex. And at the top of the poster, in big, beautiful calligraphy type, was her name... "Daisy Nugget!" a boisterous voice boomed from behind her. Daisy turned in her seat and smiled at the portly, well-groomed gentleman that entered her dressing room. William Bircham, often affectionately known as "Jackalope Bill" or just "Jackalope", was the eccentric showman and founder of "Jackalope Bircham's Wild West", a traveling spectacle of growing renown around the world. He carefully pulled a worn cowboy hat off his head, the customized holes in its wide brim allowing his long ears and pronged-antlers to slide from underneath. "Hello, Bill!" she answered with a bright smile and the elder gentleman gave her a customary bow. She held up the poster to her guest, happily exclaiming, "Look! Princess Betty just sent this over!" "I know," Bill answered her, chuckling heartily. "Shep Proudfoot said he and some of the other boys spied one of your advertisements in front of the Castle just this morning! It looks like you're set to be the next big star in this town!" Daisy grinned, looking at the poster again with pride. It had been almost two years since she had joined up with "Jackalope Bircham's Wild West", and it seemed the old scoundrel had indeed kept to his promise of bringing her fame and adventure. The older jackrabbit looked at his protégé with a wide grin, and he couldn't help but share the younger female's enthusiasm. "I have to tell you the truth, I didn't think this business with the Delight Castle was going to pan out," the long-eared gentleman replied in his distinct southern-drawl, adding, "but now I see I was a fool for ever doubting your instincts, Miss Daisy." Daisy rose from her seat and gave the "Old Jackalope" a hug, saying, "That's okay, Bill, I forgive you." She gave him a quick peck on his cheek, being careful not to poke herself in the eye with his always-conspicuous antlers, and with a wink, she added, "Of course, you should have known I wouldn't have made such a large gamble with your business if it wasn't a sure-thing." "Well, I suppose I should be thanking you in that case," he replied with a chuckle, patting her on the shoulder. Being a gentleman, Bill chose to ignore the fact that the young coyote was nearly nude, wearing nothing more than a sheer dressing-robe as she hugged him. She likewise didn't seem at all bothered by his presence when she began to dress in front of him. Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't the the first time, nor likely the last time, that he would see her in not much more than her own fur. He was truly envious of her nonchalant attitude and adventurous spirit. She seemed quite fearless about this latest "publicity stunt" of hers, as he would call it. "It won't be the same show without you, my dear," he replied as she began to pull a pair of very small panties over her legs, the kind of underwear one didn't usually see outside of a town like Bon Bon. "Silly, I'm only dancing at the Castle one night a week," Daisy said with a smile, "I'll still be at the Wild West for the nights when I'm not dancing, and every afternoon show." "Oh, I know, but tonight, I just don't know what I'll do without my lovely assistant by my side," the old "Jackalope" said with a grin, tapping the long bullwhip strapped to his belt at his side. "Jackalope Bill" Bircham rarely performed in his own show these days, as he was getting too old to do the roping and riding demonstrations he used to do in his younger days. He would act mostly as the announcer at his shows, except when he used his whip. His skills with the bullwhip had never diminished, and in recent years he had added many spectacular stunts to his bullwhip demonstrations. The one stunt that seemed to be a favorite among audiences around the world had been one he performed with Daisy, where he would carefully strip away articles of clothing from her with his whip. It was Daisy's fearlessness and free-spirited exhibitionism that made her a natural choice of assistant in this stunt. "Why don't you get Shep to stand in for me tonight, then?" Daisy replied with a teasing laugh. "I don't think Shep Proudfoot cuts as fine a figure in a dress as you do," he replied dryly, "and I think he would agree with me in that assessment." He chuckled at the mental image of the large, male buffalo wearing a frilly dress. Daisy, who had been carefully placing a pair of star-shaped pasties on her full breasts at this point, laughed so hard that her breasts shook free of these tiny ornaments. Ever the gentleman, "Jackalope" kept himself from staring at her exposed bosom, the soft tan fur doing nothing to hide her delicate, pink nipples. At that moment, a young, pink and violet-striped cat knocked on the dressing-room door, catching both of their attention as she announced, "Ten minutes to show-time, Daisy!" She wore the customary croupier outfit of the Delight Castle staff, which, due to the nature of the casino and brothel, left very little to the imagination. Bill's long ears perked up immediately upon spying her full, pink-furred breasts, in full view of anyone wishing to look. The cat noticed he older gentleman's glance and gave him a seductive little grin, which he reciprocated with a slight nod. Bill had to admit, as strange as this town was, he was beginning to enjoy the "local color". "Thank you, I'll be right out, dear" Daisy replied to the cat, who immediately turned and left the two alone, though not before she gave the "Jackalope" another seductive glance and a sexy wave of her tail. As Daisy continued to dress, Bill looked at her soberly for a moment. Finally, with a bit of concern in his voice, he asked her, "Have you spoken to Johnny at all today?" She was slipping a pink boot on her foot when she stopped. With a sigh, she answered, "No, I don't think he feels much like talking to me right now. He seemed a bit... distracted by things." "Not the least of them being yourself," the jackrabbit replied. She gave him a confused look, and he added, "I think I'm overstating the obvious when I say the boy's been carrying a torch for you for a long time..." "Bill, please, let's not have this conversation again," she replied with a sigh. Bill carefully put his hat back on his head, saying, "I apologize, Daisy, I won't bring it up again. But please... don't go out of your way to upset him further." "I just don't get him sometimes," she muttered, looking at the mirror of her dressing table and leaning forward to apply a powderpuff to her face. "I mean, sometimes he's so sweet, and other times he hardly wants to spend any time near me. I think he spends too much time at the bars and saloons." "I definitely agree with you on that point, darling," he answered softly, "but you need to be a little patient with him. Traveling all over the world for as long as he has, I think it's natural for him to miss home as much as he does. He may be all smiles when he's shootin' and telling stories for the crowd, but he's got a lot of hurt in him." Over the many years that he had known Johnny, his troubled "nephew", Bill had become quite the expert of Johnny's moods, and how he often hid his true feelings under a smirking mask of oblivious merriment. He also understood how quickly a man like Johnny could turn to drink to ease the heartache, having had similar problems with the bottle in his own past. Daisy, on the other hand, had just about had enough of Johnny's bad mood and aloof demeanor. Perhaps that's why she felt it necessary to call in a favor from a friend at the Delight Castle. "Who knows," she had thought to herself at the time, "maybe a good roll in the hay will get him to act like a sensible person again." Still, Daisy felt more than a little guilty setting up Johnny like that. She hoped he would forgive her little trick once he watched her on the stage that evening. Bill looked at Daisy as she finished applying her makeup and smiled. "My dear, I think even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of such beauty tonight." "Thank you, Bill," Daisy replied with a sweet smile, rising from her seat to grab the gun-belt that hung from the corner of the dressing-mirror. She fastened it around her waist, letting it hang off of her hip and feeling a bit more at ease with the familiar weight. She let her fingers run along the cherry-wood handle for a moment, and she could almost feel herself being transported back thousands of miles away. "Good luck, Miss Daisy," the elder "Jackalope" offered with a reassuring smile, adding, "Make sure to dazzle them all for us! I doubt the weather will let up any time soon, so for tonight, you are 'Jackalope Bircham's Wild West'." Daisy smiled sweetly and asked, "Do you really think I could replace any of you with my little dance routine?" "You'd be a daisy if you do," the sly "Jackalope" replied with a grin. Daisy laughed at his little joke, and he gave her one last little tip of the hat as he walked out the door. Still smiling, Daisy turned back to the poster, admiring it once more. "'Daisy Nugget,' huh?" she said to herself. Her grin faded, and she turned her gaze on her own image in the dressing mirror. For a moment, she stared at her own reflection as if she were looking at a stranger "Nice to meet you, Miss Nugget," she muttered to herself. * * * Johnny ran as quickly as he could toward the Delight Castle, his boots splashing through a few puddles of water left by the rain, unsure of how he could have possibly lost track of time. Still, his visit to the Outback Omnibus, the local book store owned by an interesting platypus fellow, had proved to be more productive than he had at first thought. He didn't think a small shop in such an isolated and "out of the way" town as Bon Bon would have exactly what he was looking for, but after a little searching the store's owner did indeed find it. But it wasn't his visit to the bookstore that had taken his attentions away from the time. After paying the last few florins he had for the gift and to have it delivered to Daisy's dressing room following the performance, Johnny had no sooner walked out the door of the Outback Omnibus when his nose suddenly detected a strangely familiar scent. It's effects seemed to transport him back to the past, to remind him of dark, warm lodges and the ancient songs being sung over the heart-like rhythm of drums. Even more so, it transported him back to his childhood, and the sound of his mother's singing in the warm safety of his childhood home, back in the Indian Country. Confused, he looked around, uncertain how such a scent could possibly be found in such an alien world as Bon Bon. His curiosity and ever keen nose brought him next door, to a small shop that he had not noticed when he walked past this way the first time. The sign on the outside proclaimed "Herbal Remedies - divinations on request", but the coyote's keen nose could already tell that this shop was a vast store of fragrant herbs even before he entered the door. Marveling for a moment at the shelves, filled with bottles of various size and colors as well as baskets of herbs, roots, and flowers, he became overwhelmed by the colors and scents in the air. The sensory distraction proved to be temporary, however, as the light, sweet scent that brought him in once again took hold of his nose, and he began to wander toward the back room of the store, walking through a curtain to see a female skunk, dressed in the attire of a gypsy, sitting at a table in front of him. "Come, Mr. Sixkiller," the skunkette acknowledge his entrance, calling him by name and motioning for him to take a seat at the other side of her table. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I was just... coming in, and.... smelled," Johnny began, stammering a bit as his senses were again overwhelmed by the mysterious aroma that brought him to this small place. The skunkette simply smiled and motioned again for the gunfighter to sit down, while her other hand took a hold of a deck of cards that sat on the table. "I have been expecting you to come in here, Mr. Sixkiller. The cards told me so," she began, her accent strange to Johnny's ears. She began to shuffle the cards in delicate hands, the rings on her fingers glittering in the strange low light emanating from the strange glass globe that also sat upon the table. As Johnny took in his surroundings, he noticed numerous odd objects on the table and on various shelves in the room. These included what looked to be small animal bones, crystals of various shapes and colors, and, oddest of all, a ball painted in the style of a billiards' 8-ball, though the sphere seemed a little over-sized for billiards. "How do you know my name?" Johnny asked, though as soon as he asked the question he could already think of a dozen ways she could have known, including seeing his name on the many advertisements for the Wild West show. "You are truly no stranger to this town, Mr. Sixkiller," the skunkette answered with a soft, reassuring smile. "I would have thought you'd have realized this, after meeting one of your old acquaintances here today." Johnny's natural skepticism made him wary of her answer, but he indulged his curiosity by not walking away. At least, not until he was sure of what she was up to. "I'm sure by now you have recognized the particular scent I have burning in here just for you," the skunkette continued, adding, "I'm told that some of your people consider it a very important part of your culture and religions." "Yes, it's called sweet-grass," he replied, noticing the long, braided stands of yellowed grass sitting in a stone bowl, one of its ends black and smoldering, giving off the sweet and unmistakable scent that he lured him here. He wanted to ask her how she could have gotten her hands on such a thing as a braid of sweet-grass, but was more interested in something else... "Ah, yes, you want to know who I am," she answered the unasked question. "Most people here call me Sibilla, although that is not my true name. Just as Johnny Six-Killer is not yours, am I right?" Johnny, impressed by her deduction, but not yet willing to admit anything unusual or mystical about revealing such information to him, answered, "That is correct, although my family's name is Sixkiller." "Ah, and yet the way you spell your last name, for the advertisements and the story writers... you claim to have killed six men in your career as an outlaw," she replied as she placed a couple of cards face down on the table, before looking him in the eyes and saying, "but we both know that story is not true." Johnny's ears twitched, and the fingers in his left hand curled up reflexively, but he showed no emotion on his face that would seem to anyone else as being an answer. Continuing to place cards on the table, Sibilla viewed them, the arrangement with some face-up, some face-down, completely unfamiliar to Johnny. The cards themselves had strange pictures on them, containing some sort of mysterious message in them that was readable only by the strange gypsy seated in front of him. For a moment, she reminded him of more than a few fortune tellers and medicine men he had met in his past. Every soothsayer and self proclaimed prophet seemed to be the same, and Johnny just sat back and let her continue her little show. His experiences in the past always taught him to be cautious of the words of such "truth tellers", as they often proved little more than showman. Showman that, unlike himself, rarely ever were genuine in their supposed crafts. Sibilla continued to peer at the cards on her table, studying them carefully, and Johnny studied her. Despite being rather strange in her manner and attire, Johnny had to admit that she was one of the most attractive fortune tellers he had ever met. Most tended to be old recluses wearing little more than rags, or overly costumed show-offs pretending to be mystics from some far off land. For some reason Johnny could tell Sibilla's attire seemed much more genuine, especially considering his surroundings. As her graceful hands moved and hovered over her cards, Johnny's eyes moved to her ample bosom, which, like most of the women of this town, was barely covered by anything at all other than a thin shawl and a pair of star-shaped pasties. "The answers you seek are in the stars," Sibilla suddenly spoke. Johnny's eyes darted back up to Sibilla's face, and noticed that she was still looking at her cards and not at him. "That's great, I'm sure, though it's been my experience that stars don't talk much," Johnny replied, trying to hide the rising blush on his face. Sibilla's eyes turned up from the table momentarily, her lips upturned in a smirk, then she looked back down and continued, "Old adversaries that you thought gone will resurface very soon, and they seek for themselves a prize that you have fought to protect." "And just what prize is that?" Johnny replied in a nonchalant manner, not really believing a word she was saying. "A star," she repeated, adding, "in the form of a princess." "Princess, huh? Riiiiiiiight," Johnny said with obvious sarcasm. "Look, ma'am, I don't mean to be critical, but your little fairy-tale game needs some work." He rose from his seat and was heading toward the curtained doorway out before Sibilla answered, "The King has never stopped looking for his princess, even after all of these years, has he?" Johnny froze in his tracks, and turned to look at the gypsy, his face a mixture of concern and curiosity. Sibilla rose and walked over to him, her hips and large, furry tail swaying with each step seductively. She grabbed his right hand, then placed in it a long braid of sweet-grass. "Take care, Johnny! We'll meet again in the future." Now, with mere minutes until Daisy's performance started, Johnny rushed through the streets, zig-zagging among the throngs of tourists and doxies and dodging the occasional horse-drawn carriage. For the first time in months, Johnny found himself excited and even happy. Doubts and uncertainties be damned, Johnny was finally feeling like he was going to enjoy tonight's performance. If anything, the excitement over Daisy's show seemed to completely wash away the strange encounter at the herbalist's shop. Turning a corner, he could see the Delight Castle ahead, and was surprised to see a large line of people extending out of the front door to end nearly three doors down the street. "Crap!" Johnny thought to himself, "I'll never get in there in time! Is this line just for Daisy?" He stopped running for a moment, looking at the large group of people trying to gain entrance to the casino. The sun was already setting, and lights were starting to gleam out of the windows of buildings that lined the darkening street. The gaslights that lined the streets had not yet been lit, and the street seemed to be shadowed by the buildings. Standing next to a lamp-post, he took a moment to consider how he was going to get to the front of the line. Beyond the line, the street seemed to be mostly cleared of people, even the streetwalkers having apparently gone inside for their dinners. Johnny considered his options, mulling over a couple of cons he had developed in his outlaw days that might work to get him in the door. So lost in thought was he that he didn't notice the figure emerge from the dark alley behind him. A sharp pain suddenly jolted Johnny from the back of his head. His vision suddenly blurred and darkened, and he felt himself fall to the pavement below. Blackness and disorientation took him over. He had only a moment, as he lay on the ground, to look up at two blurry, dark figures standing over him. His ears barely picked up their voices over the ringing in his head. "...so much... -ohnny Six-Killer..." said the first, in a harsh, gravelly voice. "Can't believe... was that easy... can go home, right?" came the second voice, higher and softer in tone. "...tell the Sheriff... then get her to come with us..." the first answered. "Whuh... who..." Johnny's head seemed to be slowly clearing, as he tried to find out who was talking. Their voices sounded very familiar, but he couldn't place them. Before he could say or hear any more, however, a hard boot came down on his head, and he once again fell into inky blackness. * * * She stared nervously at the closed curtain, her heart nearly jumping in her throat. Just on the other side of this thin barrier of fabric was a theater full of men, all waiting for the newest attraction of the Delight Castle's stage to make her debut. Though she had performed before live audiences before in cities around the world, she felt more nervous tonight than she had ever felt before. She told herself she was being silly for being so nervous. After all, she was Daisy Nugget, the most fearless cowgirl to ever come out of Texas! She faced down scarier, more harrowing moments in her life before without losing her resolve. Still, with her shaking knees, she found it hard to clearly think of a time when she ever felt so scared, or why this performance was any different from any other. "It's got nothing to do with the fact that a theater full of men are going to be staring at my naked body," she thought to herself with a grin. In actuality, she had always included a bit of striptease in all of her performances over the years, even before she joined up with "Jackalope Bill". This was back during her wandering days touring the lowliest, wildest dancehalls and saloons in the West, places just like the Pixie Bell saloon back home. No, having people look at her nude had never really been a problem for her, despite her very strict upbringing. Still, somehow she had developed a sudden case of the "heebie-jeebies". Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she started talking out loud to herself. "This is it, Daisy! You've come this far, and you're going to wow the pants off of everyone in this theater! You can do it!" She trailed her fingers over the familiar grip of her pistol, the gun that had followed her through her travels. It had kept her safe in more than one hairy situation, and continued to give her a strange sense of fearlessness in moments when she should be shaking in her boots. Thankfully, tonight was not an exception, and Daisy could feel her jitters ease away. The piano began to play just on the other side of the curtain, signaling the start of the show. Daisy took another deep breath and smiled, then turned her attention forward as the curtain drew back. The bright electric stage lights hit her with such an instant and intense glare she almost took a step back in reaction. Momentarily dazzled, she blinked her eyes quickly to clear the temporary blindness from them. A second later, a cacophony of applause from the audience, and Daisy looked out across the darkened theater. Much to her surprise, it seemed as though every single seat was filled! In fact, there were people sitting in the aisles or standing by the doors in the back. Hundreds of faces, of all manner of species, stared back at her. A strange bit of relief came to her when she noticed more than a fair share of women in the audience as well, and she even spotted a handful of women sitting on each other's laps, as if to accommodate the shortage of chairs in the theater. What the audience saw was nothing short of amazing for many, especially the ones who had never traveled to the American West, with backdrops evoking the amazing painted hills of some far off desert landscape, complete with false cacti, a mock-up of a white wooden fence, and various other props meant to represent a truly Western feel to the scene. A large sign with the skull of a long-horn cow adorning it proclaimed "Welcome to Daisy's Ranch". The most eye-catching spectacle of the scene was, of course, Daisy herself. Her attire was highly stylized, with matching pink boots and cowboy hat. Her long hair was adorned with two ribbons, tied into twin "pig-tails" at either side of her smiling face. Eyes were tantalized by the bare midriff exposed by the short blouse that was tied across her chest, but not as tantalized as they were by the ample cleavage, its fur the color of wheat, barely covered by the blouse or its accompanying vest. Even more astonishing was the scandalously short denim skirt she wore, fringed in pink, which gave viewers a sight of her long legs, covered in a soft fur the color of a dusky desert sunset. It took Daisy only a few seconds to find the beat of the music playing on the accompanying piano (which was playing a high spirited number she had requested specifically because it was often heard in many western saloons), and she began to move her feet and sway her hips and tail to the rhythm. She did some light-hearted stepping and twirling, the bright metal of the guns flashing in the lights; her trusty Schofield strapped to her hip on a gun-belt, and a much smaller gun strapped to her thigh by a special garter-holster. After a few bars of music, she loosed the coil of rope she held in one hand, twirling a perfect lasso around her body. The appreciative audience cheered immediately, her lasso twirling skills impressive to both the experienced and novice viewer of such spectacles. She let the halo of rope twirl up and down, encircling her body, controlling it ever subtly to lead the viewer's eyes up and down her body. She did a few spins herself inside her lasso, giving the audience healthy glimpses of every angle of her clothed form. Suddenly, the lasso dropped, and she pulled the smaller of the guns from its holster, firing at a target set up on the stage just for this reason. Shouts of surprise from frightened audience members were quickly followed by thunderous applause. Expertly, she continued to fire the much daintier of the two weapons she wore at the target, hitting it near center each time, to the delight of the theater. With the last shell expended, she seductively blew away the smoke from the tip of the spent pistol. The applause continued, and she suddenly spotted her mentor, the "Jackalope", seated in one of the balcony seats, a seat she reserved just for him. Next to him was the same gorgeous pink cat that they had met backstage just minutes before show-time. She had her arm encircling his, leaning close against him, as if the gunfire had scared her. They were both obviously enjoying both the show and each other's company. Daisy slowly undid the clasp on the belt that hung over her wide hips, and more that a few audience members leaned forward in their seats in anticipation. Posing a bit more, she let the already short skirt ride up on her hips, exposing the tiny pair of panties that sensuously clung to her body's most desired treasures. It wasn't long before she began to slide the tiny denim skirt over her hips and down her legs to the floor. She bent down low, allowing the audience a long glimpse at her deep cleavage as she stepped out of the skirt, then kicked it to the side of the stage. She turned and posed, giving the men a fine view of her long, unobstructed legs and well-proportioned buttocks. Her well-groomed tail waved teasingly, and the people in the seats closest to the stage could almost feel her waving tail fan them with a soft breeze. Untying the knot on the front of her blouse, she undulated her hips to the rhythm of the piano. She turned again to face the audience, her blouse now loose and her breasts dangerously close to being fully exposed. Teasingly, she sat upon a prop barrel, slowly sliding her elbow-length gloves off of her arms, exposing more of her dusky fur to eyes eager to see more. When she felt the tension had finally become unbearable for the audience, she suddenly jumped from her seat and spun, pulling her blouse wide and off her shoulder in one motion, exposing twin star-shaped, tasseled pasties on two firm breasts. Men in the audience cheered loudly, and she threw the garment to the wings of the stage, twirling and shaking her body with renewed vigor, as if the act of disrobing was freeing more than just her nude body, but an excited energy that became contagious among all in the theater. The excitement seemed to build with the accompanying music as well, the highly trained piano player perfectly matching her. Suddenly, as if to prolong the excitement without allowing it to boil over, Daisy slowed down, and eventually sat once again on the prop barrel. The piano music slowed as well, and the audience almost seemed to sigh and catch its breath in the moment. She looked out across the theater, seeing men and women with eyes glued to her, allowing them a moment to see her perfectly toned and well endowed body in a rare instance of rest. Her chest was heaving with her breath, and it seemed many of the men were equally panting, their faces like masks of tortured expectation. She noticed the women who were seated on each other's laps were busy caressing each other, delicate fingers cupping breasts or lightly stroking arms and necks of their partners. Smiling with a look of pure seduction, Daisy raised one knee and began to slowly pull a long, pink cowboy boot from her foot. She was taking her time now, delighting in teasing her captive audience. Her left foot now free from its confines, she threw it off to the side. She spied one especially excited fellow, a mole wearing ridiculously thick glasses, who seemed to find more delight in this part of the performance than everything else. Daisy smiled, realizing the nearly blind gentleman likely was smelling her scent from the stage, her body hot with perspiration and excitement. She took off her other boot, then made a show of waving the foot in his direction, as if helping him get her scent. He grinned and clapped enthusiastically, getting grins from the two fellows seated at either side of him. Moving off from her seated position on the barrel, she casually walked the length of the stage, winking or blowing kisses every now and then to random members of her captivated audience. In an obviously planned bit of staging, she came to a wooden mock-up of a horse, made of spare bits of lumber, its body a smaller barrel, its tail little more than the brush-head of an old broom. She straddled it, moving her hips across its wooden body, eliciting excited gasps and laughter from the audience. After all, this was all play, and what better way for a cowgirl to play than with her own, trusty horse to help her? She stretched out on the length of the horse, laying across its back, then sitting up and miming a rocking, riding motion, gyrating her hips erotically, her breasts bouncing so vigorously that the tassels twirled. She arched her back, grinding herself against the motionless, wooden horse. Her face showed a certain delight in her own play, and the more attentive members of the audience with strong noses (especially "Mr. Mole") could smell her excitement from the stage. Men in the audience were clutching at obvious erections straining in their trousers. Women were fanning themselves, except for the delighted pairs of women lovers sitting on each other's knees, some of them now kissing, and some with their fingers moving busily underneath skirts and blouses. Stopping her play on the horse for a moment, Daisy mimed fanning herself, getting chuckles from the audience. Seductively, she pulled her tiny, now wet panties away from her crotch, and mimed fanning her private place, as if giving herself a little air. Men were practically falling off their seats as they leaned forward to catch a glimpse or a whiff of her hidden delights. She raised her arms above her head, and began to pull the ribbons from her hair, placing them off to one side and shaking her long, auburn locks loose, letting it cascade over her shoulders. She then untied the little kerchief around her neck and then, with a knowing wink to the rest of the audience, tossed it to the elderly "Mr. Mole". It hit his face, and he let out a little squeal of delight at such a wonderful souvenir, holding it up in his hands to show off to the surrounding men around him, and making a big show of sniffing his prize. Smiling at the spectacle, Daisy lay back again on her faux-horsey, and pulled first one, then the other pasty off of each breast. Now unconfined, her pink, erect nipples hardened under the excitement and slightly chilly air. She shook her shoulders, allowing her newly unencumbered tits to sway and bounce on her chest. Next came the slow, deliberate untying of the straps to her panties, which she untied only on one side. She then raised her leg, her foot pointing up to the ceiling, and began to pull the flimsy garment over the toned, smoothly furred leg. She pulled her leg back down, freeing the garment from her ankle, then sat up, twirling the panties on a finger. She looked at the audience, and many men leaned forward, some with expectant grins on their faces. She smiled, then placed her panties around the neck of her horsey, more than a few audience members chuckling at their own expense, having been fooled by a teasing promise of yet another, more desirable souvenir. Daisy luxuriated on the back of her horse, posing first on her back, with firm tits standing up with her back arched, then turned on her stomach, allowing her viewers unobstructed view of her rear, her tail waving erotically in the air. She once again began to grind against her inanimate playmate, making a show of rubbing her breasts and pussy against the wooden form that she straddled so lovingly. Looking out into the audience, she saw men on the verge of soiling their nice trousers, and women ready to loose all inhibition to the moment, caressing themselves (or a willing partner). Glancing up to the box seats, she saw various important looking people engaged in various lascivious activities, with partners or by themselves. In particular, she looked up to Bill's box, and noticed his face scrunched up in pleasure, his eyes shut as the head of the beautiful cat bobbed in and out of view over his crotch. Daisy looked at all of this, and sighed. She didn't see Johnny anywhere. Determined not to allow herself be distracted, she continued to smile to the audience, and with the skill of a seasoned magician, suddenly produced two objects in her hands. A pair of phallic toys, one bumpy and shaped like a tiny cactus, the other shiny and looking like a giant bullet. Audience members gasped and gloried at their sudden appearance, and she lay back, her hands readying the toys for their intended use... * * * Daisy walked through the short hallway backstage to her dressing room among furious applause from the staff of the Delight Castle, many of whom had watched her entire show from the wings and had gathered just to congratulate her. Her "finale" had really taken everything out of her. Though she enjoyed the congratulations of the girls, she felt like locking herself in her dressing room with a bottle of champagne, perhaps curling up on the duvet and falling asleep. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had been left so exhausted by a performance, but then she mused, "I've never had a performance quite like this one before." Shutting the door behind her, Daisy let out a deep sigh in the quiet isolation of her dressing room. She giggled to herself, suddenly giddy about how amazingly well her performance went that night. It was only after her moment of reflection that she noticed the numerous bouquets of flowers that decorated her room, and various brightly wrapped packages sat at the vanity counter, all gifts from well wishers and fans. She giggled again, amazed at her sudden popularity. The room seemed to be almost made more of flowers than furniture! She never got so much attention when she was working at "Jackalope Bircham's Wild West". She smiled, realizing she was no longer just the "pretty cowgirl" who played second fiddle to Bill or the other male performers. Suddenly, she was a star! Sitting at her vanity, she looked at the various boxes and packages, piled almost haphazardly. Picking though a few of them, she read their cards, most of which were from some rich lord or businessman of some sort, each promising her untold wealth and security if she ran off with them to their private villa in... well, just about everywhere, it seemed! She had received many proposals like this from admiring fans before, but never so many at one time! Bon Bon truly turned out to be an amazing city, she thought to herself. Suddenly, one package caught her eyes. It was small and wrapped in plain brown paper and twine. There was no card, or any indication of where it was from, but it was small and thin, feeling like a small book perhaps. Intrigued, she unwrapped the paper from the object, confirming it as a book. At first confused, her face suddenly lightened and her heart jumped when she recognized the cover. The title read Bella Starr, the Bandit Queen, or the Female Jesse James, and seemed brand new, despite the book being nearly ten years old. She flipped through the pages quickly and confirmed it to be a true first edition, kept pristine all these years. Suddenly finding more energy than she had previously though was left in her, Daisy bolted up and rushed to her worn, leather riding jacket, which she had kept for years ever since she left her hometown. Her hand quickly fished into one of its pockets, and produced a nearly identical copy of the same book, only this one dog-eared and worn from years of reading and re-reading, its pages on the verge of falling apart. Realizing indeed that she had received the same book, she sat down again, starring in amazement at what she had in her hands. Wondering just who would send her such a book, she opened it and noticed, for the first time, a written inscription in fancy calligraphy. "Property of Ms. Daisy May Blaylock. Bon Bon 1895." Her eyes went wide at the name in the inscription, and her heart nearly jumped through her chest. Her first thoughts after seeing her real name written inside the cover of this paperback book were of fear of her identity being found out, and that her pursuers had finally tracked her down. She practically bolted over to the door, almost giving into her instincts to run right then. She had her fingers on the doorknob, but stopped herself just seconds before she would have made a fool of herself. At that moment, she knew exactly who had given her the book, and her fear and shock suddenly turned to anger. "Johnny, you rotten snake!" she suddenly yelled furiously, loud enough for a few people outside her dressing room to hear (which, thankfully, none of them were snakes, else they might have taken offense at the comment). She couldn't believe she had almost been made a fool of by Johnny. Not only had he not shown up to her debut performance tonight, but he had scared her half to death with his little prank. Flipping the paperback book open once again, she looked at the bottom of the same page to read a less stylish, handwritten inscription. "To the only woman who can keep me shooting straight...." It was signed with a name she didn't recognize. Suddenly, with clarity, her eyes welled up with tears, and she half sobbed, half laughed. It was Johnny's handwriting at the bottom, and he had signed it with his name. His true name, the one given to him by his Potawatomi mother, and that he had kept secret from Daisy (and for that matter, everyone else) for years. She held the precious book to her chest, sobbing with joy. "Now we both know each other's real names," Daisy said to herself. * * * The outskirts of Bon Bon, location unknown. Johnny woke up with a splitting headache, like he had just gone head to head with a wild bronco and lost. He brought his hands up to his face, feeling something wet and warm on his face. Opening his eyes, he noticed that he had blood on his fingers, and that his hands were manacled together. Looking around groggily, he couldn't make out anything familiar about the dark, plain room he was sitting in. He noticed he had been propped up in a chair, seated next to an old wooden table, and a lone kerosene lamp shone over his head. The rest of the room, deep in shadow, was hard to see with his still unfocused and dazed eyes. He heard someone approaching from the left and he reflexively reached for his gun, only to find it missing from the holster. Looking up, the blurry figure came into focus as he entered the lamp light. "You?" Johnny asked in astonishment, "What the hell are you doing here?" The figure just looked down on him, his face dark under the wide brim of his hat. Johnny immediately knew why he recognized the two voices out on the street, and he looked around, finally spotting both culprits standing at the far side of the room, near what appeared to be the only exit out. The figure standing next to Johnny placed a large, gloved hand on the table and sat on its edge. The already wobbly looking table creaked loudly under his weight, and a low voice, cool and slick like oil, came from out of the shadows of his face. "I and my associates are simply here to collect what is mine." * * * Who are these mysterious figures that have kidnapped Johnny? And what is their connection to Daisy? Stay tuned for another rip roarin' tale of adventure and erotica in Chapter 3 of Sureshot! A BonBon Tale!