Leah picked up the knife and held its contours in her hand. Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb began to float muffled from the jukebox. She couldn’t hi...e her quiet laugh, and couldn’t help the weight of sadness that drifted down on her from somewhere far away. It was heavier than the weight of the knife as she dropped it into her coat pocket, knowing full well she may have just sent the Grim Reaper his invitation. The song was halfway through before she remembered her sandwich. It had already grown. Leaning back on the desk, my underwear now at my ankles I watched as her words opened, sucked me in and moved up and down my shaft, her rhyme tickling the head of my cock in small, fluttering rhythms. She stood up as her bra slipped away and I lost myself in the flowing lines of her breasts, the pauses at her nipples as I gently sucked them into my mouth, my tongue learning the texture, yearning for more. Slipping her panties down over her hips, I scanned down stanza by stanza, over her. She put the one good set of copied forms in one of the baskets, then the two sets she had pulled on top of that. She took the two manila envelopes and put them on the clip board she carried around, covering them with the sheets where she made her notes. She punched in and waited for the next customer. Her first three customers were lookie lous and she got rid of them as soon as she could once she determined they weren’t buying. It wasn’t until her fourth customer that she made a sale. It was. A professional hangman named Josiah Reading had been hired to execute John but Tyler took Reading’s place and freed his younger brother while he was standing on the gallows. Then Tyler held the Sheriff, his deputies, and all of the people that had come to watch the hanging at gun point while John and Molly rode away. Tyler Rawlings was a pistolero, well known in Texas, New Mexico and parts of Louisiana. Some said he was as fast, mean and unforgiving as John Wesley Hardin or Clay Allison, not.