Hot Tamale #212: Shalimar

“When did they take this?” There’s no fooling her. May as well spit it out. “It was…it was during my mentor meeting yesterday morning. With Miss Jackson.” “Oh,” says Petra. “I have her too…” “Oh cool. Did she…um…make you strip?” “Yes. I did. But when I was naked I just stood up straight in front of her. I didn’t see her take pictures.” This is turning into the longest conversation I’ve had with Petra. She looks across to her bed, a little hopeful. I see her brow furrow when she sees there’s nothing. She starts to walk away to her side of the room, lost in thought but. She looks a little perplexed. I watch her as she goes to the window, her wet hair straggled out across her neck, shiny shoulders on either side. So, am I the only one with the porno selfie delivery? I shake my head again, and suddenly I think to check the envelope again. There’s a note. Thick, barky paper. The same elegant handwriting. ‘Dear Emma. I thought you might enjoy these. You photograph beautifully. I was watching from the ridge, staring at a cloud of dust and wondering how many they were when I felt more than heard something. I didn’t stop to think and rolled to the left. An arrow hit the rock where I was lying and the archer, seeing he missed, had dropped his bow and was trying to get his rifle to bear. I hit him three times the last in his head as he was falling. Another rose up almost in front of me, shocked beyond believing when I dropped the rifle and went for my shotgun. He was literally on top of me before I could get it to bear, the barrel almost against his chest. The shot knocked him backwards and he remained standing for a few seconds, looking down. I could see the woods behind him through the three inch hole.The last fired as I was rising to my feet, nearly ripping my holster in two and knocking me down again. The brave must have thought he got me, because he rose up, his war cry echoing off the rocks. He stopped in mid yell, because I blew most of his jaw off. The.
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