Penny grabbed hold of Rita's arm. "Oh, god," she rasped, practically panting. "Look who's coming in. It's Roper."

Rita could practically smell the pheromones off her fellow waitress at the Silver Spur Honky Tonk. "Roper, who?" she asked, wondering what made this one any different than the hundred other cowboys who had been rolling in and out of here on this, Rita's first night on the job.

"You don't understand." Penny was dreamy eyed, unconsciously pushing her chest out, increasing the cleavage of her uniform black halter top, the only covering she had other than black shorts, white vest and boots. "This is him ... Roper."

Rita gave Roper a second look, trying to see what the fuss was. Okay, he was cute enough, hot, actually, with his chiseled features, five o'clock shadow, baby blue eyes, short dark hair and lean body, but he was hardly the second coming of Elvis. "I don't get it," she shook her head, copper red curls dancing about her bare, reasonably tanned shoulders.

"Oh, you will," Penny said throatily. "If you're lucky."

So that was it. Roper liked to fuck. Well Rita did, too. But not strangers and certainly not ones she bumped into working at beer soaked country and western bars. "I think his type I can do without," Rita said flatly. "Thanks just the same."

"That's what everyone says at first." This from Carrie, a bushy haired blonde with a thin, but appealing figure. "He's got his ways, though."

"Such as?" Rita queried.

Penny leaned over and whispered something in Rita's ear.

Rita flushed hotly. "I have tables to wait on."

"Start over there, table nine," Carrie pointed.

There was Roper, sitting all by his lonesome in his tight jeans and flannel shirt, half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up.

"Please," said Rita. "Don't make me..."

"We are making you," said Carrie. "And if you don't do it, we'll tell Sonny you're not pulling your share."

As in Sonny, the chip on his shoulder manager.

Just what she needed, to get fired on her first night.

"Do you all hate me or what?" Rita demanded.

"Consider it your initiation," the five foot two inch, curvy, dark haired Penny chuckled, pushing the taller Rita forward.

Rita had had her share of initiations, thank you very much. At thirty one, she'd been sweet talked, seduced, put over, put on and put off more times than she could remember. She was through with men, with the exception of her ninety year old grandfather whom she'd come to town to take care of.

She'd make short work of this Roper character. She'd take his order, cool as ice, letting him know he'd get nowhere with her. She wasn't all that attractive, anyway, not in her opinion. Good enough looking to get a job in this place, sure, but plenty of others outshone her, including sexy little Penny and sultry looking Carrie.

"Hello and welcome to the Silver Spur," said Rita, making short work of the bar's tag line. "May I help you to have a rip roaring time? We have beer on draft and--"

"Wow," Roper cut her off. "If that isn't the saddest delivery I've ever heard."

Andrea scowled. "Excuse me?"

"Your approach," he said. "It's all wrong. I'd want to shoot myself after hearing you, not order a beer."

Her hands went to her hips. She narrowed her gaze. As far as she was concerned he could shoot himself.