The Preacher's Wife - Part 1
Iíve had a few requests for a good old fashioned Rusty Goat story and must confess I am in the mood to tell one. Out of all the stories Iíve shared, I never told the tale about the preacherís wife. Itís a story worth telling and hopefully the preacherís wife wonít see this, because as I recall her very last words ever spoken to me were, "You better be glad I didnít bring my gun!"
It was a typical mid-summer Tuesday afternoon when I stopped by the Dairy Queen for a Cherry Dr Pepper. A cute little cowgirl happened to be standing in front of me at the counter. She was wearing Daisy Duke cut offs, a pearl snapped shirt tied in a knot around her midriff, and a straw hat. She glanced at me over her shoulder and offered a warm smile. I returned a smile of my own and our eyes met briefly. Not a word was spoken, there was no need. I was quite sure our paths would never cross again. Well no, of course she wasnít the preacherís wife. Preacherís wives donít go to the Dairy Queen dressed that way.
I took a seat in a booth, sipping through a red straw as I watched the cowgirl climb into a Chevy truck and drive away. There was something about her that made me want to get up close to a cowgirl and since she had driven out of sight, I figured just about any cowgirl would do. Even though it was completely against my principles, I decided as I fished the cherry out of my cup that Iíd just head up to the city that evening. I had heard that Tuesdays were Ladies Night, and what better day to check out Ladies Night that on a Tuesday. With that decision being made, I headed toward home to prepare myself for an evening of dancing with whatever cowgirl I could find to dance with.
I stepped into the bar around nineish, the sun still hovering in the hot summer sky. The place was fairly quiet, nothing like what I was accustomed to on a hopping Friday night. I wandered toward the bar and ordered a Coors Light, dropping the quarter change into a tip jar, and with a wink to the pretty little bartender, I turned on my heel and followed the music.
I leaned against a post at the edge of the dance floor and watched a half dozen couples spinning around the floor. A feeling gnawed at me that perhaps my expectations had been a bit more that what the reality of this evening might bring. I subconsciously became aware of a pair of eyes peering at me from the other side of the post. Glancing over my eyes met hers, brown eyes sparkling in the neon light, a straw hat atop her black hair braided into a French braid. She looked familiar, I thought to myself as I returned my gaze toward the dance floor. Unable to resist a second look, my head turned her direction again and again was met with a stare.
"Hey! Youíre the girl from the Dairy Queen!"
Her lips burst into a broad smile revealing a perfect set of teeth framed with luscious full lips.
"Thatís where I saw you! It was driving me crazy! She almost seemed to blush as she spoke.
"Well, do you dance? I asked eagerly.
"Of course I do! Why else would I be here?"
I extended my hand and she placed her tiny hand in my palm and we stepped onto the dance floor.
The Dairy Queen princess glowed beneath the shimmering lights above the dance floor. I couldnít help but notice she had changed into a pair of even shorter Daisy Dukes and a fresh pearl snapped shirt which appeared a bit snug across her ample bosoms. I felt a tingle run through my body as she pressed her body close to mine. With a sigh, I decided this night might become productive after all.
Three dances later, I walked her off the dance floor. She smiled and squeezed my hand and excused herself as she headed toward the Ladies Room. I watched her wiggle as she blended into the crowd that was beginning to filter into the bar. With a smile on my face, I glanced toward the floor and realized she was about the most annoying person I had ever met. What a shame I thought to myself as my eyes searched around the room for a less annoying dance partner.
My gaze fell on a table occupied by two women who I judged to be closer to my age and I hoped were less annoying than Daisy Duke. Without missing a beat, I headed in their direction.
"Excuse me! Would one of you ladies like to dance with me?"
The two exchanged glances and giggled. The redhead pointed toward the dance floor and spoke,
"Well you said you wished you could dance! Hereís your chance!"
"Oh but, she shot a quick glance toward me, "I donít know how!"
I let out a laugh, "Oh well donít let that slow you down. If thereís anyone in here that can teach you to dance, itís me!"
With that, I took her hand and encouraged her from her seat with a gentle tug. She rose and with a final glance over her shoulder at her friend, followed me onto the floor.
"So youíve never ever danced before? I peered into her green eyes as I wrapped an arm around her tiny waist.
"Oh no, never!"
"Well whatís been keeping you from learning all these years? I felt her body shudder against mine.
"To be honest with you, Iím married to a preacher."
I struggled to maintain a smile on my face as my eyes searched the bar for the Dairy Queen girl.
"Well, to be honest with you, Iíve never danced with a preacherís wife before."
I felt her sweet breath on my cheek as she whispered in my ear, "And Iíve never danced with a cowboy before."
As she spoke those words I felt another little shiver run through her body. My mind raced to answer the question, ĎWhere DID that Dairy Queen girl go?"
To be continued…