During the Sisters In Smut Convention, three erotica authors walked into a bar and spotted a cowboy, an angel, and a devil. Caught up in the reverie, three stories were born. This one is mine. Chuck had finished his smoky set, deep and full, much like the cigar scent in the historic Palace Salon. He balanced the guitar on his lap as he slipped the harmonica neck rack off his head. Words of life had flown off Chuck’s tongue in his trademark ebony sound as he strummed those chords and tapped his cowboy boots. But when he introduced his sensuous...