A group of ladies, of a certain age, are looking for romance and Chris Black is the object of their affection. Over drinks, the ladies make a bet, to see which one can catch the eye of this devilishly handsome ranch owner and get him into bed.
Set in the 1980s, a world without mobile phones and Internet, this pithy story explores the lives and loves of this group of friends, charting their emotional highs and lows. Lusting after a millionaire might seem a great bet to win, but the ladies should remember the old adage, be careful what you wish for… you might just get it!
Raina matched Susan’s melancholy tone. “That first meeting when your eyes lock, your legs get wobbly and your head is spinning. That is always the best. The next time is never as good.” Raina, smiled and tried to lighten the mood, “Talk about romance. You think Mr. Black has a new honey? I haven’t heard anything lately.”
“Mr. Black is married, isn’t he?” asked Sissy
“So?” Susan replied, “Mr. Black playing around has been ranch gossip as long as I can remember. Why do you think Chris Black hires young women at his hacienda at Headquarters? Most of his horse trainers, the ground crew and the cowboys working at Headquarters are young men with young wives. All potential conquests, right?” Susan paused and took a swig of beer, “Mr. Black doesn’t mind hiring older men with their older wives for the sections at the ranch where you, Raina, and Laurie live. Those places are far from Headquarters. That’s not to say that Mr. Black wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to screw a good looking Gallina.”
Rory had not mentioned that kind of gossip about Mr. Black. “Isn’t he worried a husband will come after him?”
“Mr. Black is Mr. Texas. Nobody comes after Mr. Black.” Raina drew an exclamation mark with one finger in the air.
“If Bob caught me playing around with his boss, he’d kick my ass all the way out of Texas.” Susan added.
“Girls, save the dreaming. We’re too old. Chris Black is thirty something or maybe early forties. He doesn’t want to go to bed with a dried up old hen.” Laurie shrugged, despite the look of possibility in her eyes.
“We are not that old. We still look damn good, if I may say so.” Jane said as she flipped a strand of her frizzy hair. “I happen to think none of us are over the hill. Raina, you still look like the fabulous Cher even with your shorter hair. My dear neighbor, Susan; look at your boobs and that sexy strawberry hair. Me, I’m too skinny to have a lot of wrinkles or a double chin. Annie is our cow-town Marilyn Monroe. Laurie, color your hair and you’d be a knockout with your doe eyes, and our new Gallina; she’s Raquel Welch.”
“Jane, get real. I’m no Raquel Welch.” Sissy laughed.
“I’m serious. If we fix ourselves up with lots of make-up we are still knockouts. The real Raquel Welch is around our age, and every man hyperventilates when they see her. How old are you, Raquel?”
“Forty-nine.” Sissy did not feel like laughing this time.
“Fifty real soon. You know that, Janie.”
“Fifty-one and counting backward.” Raina laughed.
“Wish I was, but I have to add two years.” Laurie pulled on a wrinkle next to her mouth.
“I’ll be fifty-four soon. Hell, I’d bet we’d be better in bed than Mr. Black’s young chicks,” said Jane, defiantly.
“Well then, Ladies, I have a proposition.” Raina got up. “Let’s see which one of us can get Mr. Black into bed.”
“You are not serious.” Susan grimaced at her friend.
“Serious as hell. What do we have to lose? Soon we’ll be more winkled, stooped, and dried up. Our husbands don’t appreciate our sexuality anymore. We raised our kids. The husbands and kids don’t need us the way they did back then. We deserve one last fling. Don’t tell me that you all don’t have the hots for Chris Black.”
Raina held out her hand. “It’s a deal. Let’s all shake on it.”