“Hey watch out
how you talk about our old Alma Mater. For me it seems a lot
longer, so much has happened,” Julia reflected. “Here, this is
what I want to show you.”
“Domestic
Tranquility Agreement – what the heck is all this legalese?”
“Well you know
lawyers. Gotta have it in writing before it’s real. As you
know Lauren is, or I should say was a practicing lawyer. Skip
over the preliminaries and read the “Breach of Rules” section.
Sheila did so
slowly, plowing through the verbiage. “Woo,” she exhaled
placing the album back on the table. “Dang if this doesn’t
remind me a little of our sorority house rules. Jule does this
really say what I think it does?”
“Yes, if you’re
thinking blistered butts.”
“And this time
it’s Lauren’s hiney that’s been tenderized?’
“You got it!”
“This is too
much. I can’t believe it. How…..”
“Zip your lips,
make believe I’m Paul Harvey, and I’ll tell you the rest of the
story.”
They met on the
other side of a conference table in a real estate office. Julia
had recently graduated from Arizona State with a degree in
business majoring in real estate. She went to work for a large,
Phoenix based, commercial real estate company, and was sitting
in on her first closing. Lauren, a lawyer with five years
experience under his belt, was representing a group of investors
purchasing a shopping center. Julia was wired, excited to be
part of a deal she had helped bring to the table. Lauren was
low key. Quietly intense. Scrutinizing each document. Raising
questions.
“He’s cute,
but sure looks buttoned down,” Julia thought.
“She’s a
looker alright, but probably a ditz once you get to know her,”
Lauren mused.
After the
close, the parties celebrated with a sumptuous dinner at an
upscale restaurant. For a while conversation was animated, high
spirited, self congratulatory, but the rich food and alcohol
inevitably enervated discourse. “Have you ever seen so much
money spent to make a place look so ranch rustic?” Lauren asked
Julia. “The only thing missing is an outdoor pootsaria?”
“What?” a
surprised Julia exclaimed. “Pootsaria … whatever are you
talking about?”
“You know. An
outdoor comfort station. Corn cobs and spider webs,” Lauren
replied mock seriously. “Of course a big city girl like you
wouldn’t know about such, would she?”
“Oh, she
wouldn’t huh? I’ll have you know I grew up on a hard scrabble
ranch. I was milking cows, gathering eggs, and herding cattle,
at an age when you were still in your didees sucking at your
mama’s tit!”
“Whoa. Just
kidding. Meant no offence.”
“Would you look
at those two squabbling like lovebirds. I give’em three months
and they’ll be hitched,” jibed Sylvia, Lauren’s assistant.
And so it came
to be. For the first four years of their marriage, Julia and
Lauren, were just made for each other. She lightened his
sometimes serious demeanor, and indirectly he taught her
patience and thoroughness. Inevitably, though the pressures of
making it in the booming world of Phoenix real estate began to
take its toll. Lauren in particular was getting restless.
Hinting that he needed a change. A fundamental change. Then a
devastating forest fire outside of Show Low created an
opportunity…a section of land including a house and out
buildings came to market at a very attractive price. The fire,
though it had not touched his property, had scared the pants off
its owner and he wanted out. He was even willing to tote the
note at a low interest rate.
They bit.
Lauren would return to his first love, fine carpentry, and
Julia, what with cell phones, faxes and such didn’t need to be
in Phoenix 24/7, although she would maintain a small apartment
to be used as needed. Since neither had done due diligence in
acquiring the ranch there were surprises. Some good. Some
bad. The ranch house was restored and updated, but the meadows
had been overgrazed during recent dry years. The pressure at
the water well was a little weak. Even so, there was deep
satisfaction at the end of a day where both had worked out in
the wide open spaces. Wearing themselves out. For a while,
their love life was one of renewed wonder and ardor. Lauren had
been able to establish a carpentry business doing most of his
work for well off retirees in Payson. However, after two
years, it seemed as though they had traded one set of pressures
for another.
“We need to
take a break and recharge our batteries,” Julia said to Lauren
over breakfast one morning.
“I guess so.
What do have in mind?” Lauren responded without enthusiasm.
Julia plowed
on. “Well we’ve been wanting to get horses, and I understand
there’s a reputable horse ranch out near the Sierra Anchas.
It’s a guest ranch too so we could make a weekend of it if you’d
like.”
“Sounds like
you’ve done your homework. Might as well give it a try.”
The weather had
become cloudy overnight and was sullen on their drive to the
ranch, as was Lauren’s attitude. They came to the ranch
entrance off a dirt road running south of
Arizona 260. A carved wood sign hanging by chains from a log
beam read “Saddle Sore Stables” — Horses, Breeding, Training,
Stabling, Purchases and Sales. Guest Ranch open Memorial Day
through Labor Day — F. Martinetti, prop.
“Oh great,
they’re not even open for guests,” Lauren groused.
“Thanks for the
vote of confidence. You should know me better. I called
ahead. We’re expected,” Julia shot back.
They drove on
through the gate and pulled up at hitching posts fronting a
house, corrals, and out buildings. “Anybody home?” they
shouted.
She came around
from the stable. A coil of rope in one gloved hand. Striding
purposefully. Lauren, gave her a quick head to toe noting a
solid, no nonsense build, crinkly, crow-footed blue eyes, and a
very persuasive set of hips accentuated by the wide leather belt
cinched at the waist of her snug jeans. Man she could clean
out my stables anytime, Lauren fantasized.
“Hi, you must
be the Deans; I’m Fiona chief honcha and gofer. Welcome to
Saddle Sore Stables. ” She removed the glove from her left hand
and extended it in greeting. Julia met it with her own, as did
Lauren noting the calloused palm. Oops, she must be the “F”
in Martinetti, Lauren realized with a start.
“We’re glad to
be here,” Julia said.
“I hope you
won’t be disappointed. As I explained to you on the phone,
we’re about a month from opening our ranch to guests. So there
won’t be any hayrides, outdoor barbecues, singing cowboys, and
all the rest of it. And with my older son in the Marines I’m a
little short handed. Besides which we’re really a working ranch
at heart. Guests provide extra income so we can continue to do
what we love. Shoot! Where are my manners? I’m glad
y’all came to visit. Don’t worry about your luggage. My son
Mark will fetch it. Please follow me.”
“Well at least
the pootsaria is indoors,” Lauren noted derisively as they
settled into their cabin.
“Actually I
think it’s lovely. Real ranch rustic. There’s a great
view of the mountains from the porch, and look, they’ve stacked
logs in the fireplace. How romantic. And that big old bed sure
looks inviting to me, honeybuns. Good for snuggling and other
fun and games. I’m looking forward to our stay.”
“Well, we’ll
see.”
That evening
Julia and Lauren joined Fiona, Mark, and Veronica, Mark’s new
bride, in the ranch house dining room. Mark had his mother’s
sparkling blue eyes, but he got his black hair from his father.
Veronica was a beguiling, spirited
Latina, her light skin set off by a dusky blush.
Hearty
appetites soon cleared the dinner plates of ranch oysters, baked
potatoes, and greens. The desert, apricot tarts, prompted an
apology from Fiona “This time of year you can’t get fresh
apricots so I used the re-hydrated variety. Hope you all liked
them.”
“The tarts were
delicious. As was the wine. Everything was very toothsome,”
opined Julia.
Fiona winked at
Julia as Mark and Veronica awkwardly excused themselves. “Let’s
us old folk retire to the porch. Looks as though the weather’s
lifting so we might catch a nice sunset.”
“Oh, Fiona, you
were right,” exclaimed Julia as the setting sun broke through
beneath the line of clouds, its light firing up the mountain
peaks. They all remained silent for a while as the sun withdrew
and darkness settled.
“Say, I’m
curious about something,” Lauren said directing his comments to
Fiona. Unless I’m mistaken “Fiona” is an Irish name and
“Martinetti” is Italian. “Very perceptive, Mr. Dean,” Fiona
responded somewhat coquettishly. My grand parents came to this
country from Ireland. My parents were both Irish. And
Martinetti is Italian. It was my late husband’s last
name.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “He was killed
when his horse slipped on some loose rocks up in the mountains.
He was thrown and broke his neck.”
Julia got up,
went to Fiona, kneeled, and hugged her around the neck. Fiona’s
eyes teared momentarily then her expression cleared. “Well, I
expect we’re all ready to hit the hay. Tomorrow should be a
beautiful day and I know you’ll will want to get an early
start.”
“They sure look
uptight,”
Fiona thought
as she and the Deans walked to the corral the next morning after
eating a hearty breakfast. Mark met them at the entrance to the
tack room. “Mark why don’t you show these folks around while I
saddle up Lulu and Randy for their ride up to the pass.”
“Sure Mom.
This way folks. Might at well start with the tack room. To be
honest most people aren’t too interested in halters, bits, and
such, but don’t be shy about asking questions. I’ll answer the
best I can.”
Once inside
Julia noted how well organized everything was. All the gear
hung from wall hooks. Supplies were neatly arranged in a
cabinet. And the saddles, including one she identified as an
English lady’s riding saddle, sat astride saw horses or narrow
benches. Oddly the walls were white ceramic tile while the
floor was Mexican quarry tile.
“In case you’re
wondering. This place used to belong to a veterinarian and this
was her operating room. Any questions before we look at the
barn and corrals?” Mark asked.
“And I guess
she used that to sharpen her scalpel,” Lauren remarked
archly, having noted the razor strop hanging from one of the
wall hooks.
Mark
colored. Stammering slightly he said, “No that was Dad’s. He
used a straight razor.”
“Sheesh his
old man musta been real progressive. Makes you wonder about the
old lady,” Lauren thought.
They walked
through another door to the barn noting the mucked out stalls
and the hayloft above. The corrals were series of chutes and
open areas. Beyond the corrals, in a small field bordered by
trees and a set of bleachers, were a number of jumping
obstacles.
“Oh, I noticed
a few trophies with your Mom’s name on them when we were in the
tack room, this must be for dressage training and show.”
“Yes ma’am,”
replied Mark proudly. “We’re having to change with the times.
Used to be we trained mostly quarter horses and such, but now
more people, mostly newcomers to these parts, are into show and
fancy riding, and Mom has a real knack for that sort of thing .
Speaking of which…”
“My ears are
burning. Mark better not be telling fibs about me again,” Fiona
said playfully. “Anyway your horses are ready and I’ve packed
you sack lunches and lemonade. This morning overcast oughta
burn off in a little while.”
They walked
over to the front of the stables and the waiting horses tied
loosely to a corral post. “Mr. Dean you take LuLu there. She’s
an old pussycat. Julia, that’s Randy. He’s a little more
spirited, but you’ve ridden before and should have no trouble.
The horses know the trails blindfolded. All you need to do is
head across that meadow for the trees. There’s a path that more
or less follows a creek that will take you upslope. Eventually
you’ll get to the saddle between those two mountains over
yonder. Figure on a couple of hours each way. Be sure you
explore around the saddle. Might be a tad breezy, but there are
boulders for shelter. And be sure you hike around the far side
a little. The snow is melting and there’s a water fall you’ll
enjoy seeing. One more thing and I’ll turn ya loose. The
horses have not been on long rides for months so they are
a little rusty. Promise me you won’t run them hard. I’d hate
to have one of them injured, although you can goad’em gently
with your crops if necessary. Enjoy your day. I’ll be here
when you return.”
“You’d think
she was talking to a couple of kids,” Lauren said as he and
Julia cleared the far side of the forest and headed for the
saddle pointed out by Mrs. Martinetti. “Oh, don’t be such a
tightass. I’m sure she didn’t mean any such thing. And she was
right on the money about the weather. What a fine day.” Julia
urged Randy to a slow canter riding out ahead of Lulu presenting
Lauren an enticing view of her fanny, finely molded by tight
jodhpurs, as she moved up and down in the saddle.
Fiona was also
right about finding shelter from the wind behind some boulders
the far side of the saddle. “Now this is more like it,” Lauren
said expansively as he and Julia were finishing their picnic.
They were propped up against a boulder warmed by the sun and
hearing, but not feeling the chill wind rushing up and over the
mountain saddle. A hawk rose from a deep defile below riding a
thermal effortlessly into the clear, sundrenched sky.
After a while
Lauren looked into Julia’s eyes and covered her hands with his.
“You read me like a book. I hadn’t realized how much I needed
this. I promise to pay more attention to your sage advice in
the future. You’re some special lady.” They moved together and
shared a lingering kiss.
“And that
reminds me of something I’ve been doing without for quite a
while big boy. What say we mosey on back and take advantage of
that four poster bed?”
“You’re reading
my mind, let’s giddyup.”
“Race you to
the barn,” Lauren said as their horses entered the meadow.
“I don’t think
that’s a good idea. Remember what Fiona said.”
But Lulu was
already streaking for home urged on by the crop in Lauren’s
hand.
A loud
insistent banging awakened the drowsing lovers. “Crud,
someone’s at the door. I’ll get it,” Lauren said.
He opened the
door confronted by Mrs. Martinetti, hands on hips, her face
flushed with exasperated anger. Before he could say anything,
she stated, “You all need to leave. I want you off my place by
sundown. And don’t bother paying me. Just get out of here.”
“Wha?,” Lauren
exclaimed.
“You sure seem
to have a hard time understanding and following directions.
What’s not clear? Leaving? Not paying?”
“Fiona, what’s
the matter,” Julia said clutching the neck of her negligee.
“Your husband.
Lulu is limping and there are crop marks on her flanks.
Obviously Mr. Dean, in spite of my directions, raced her. So I
want you both to pack up and go.”
“Oh Fiona I
apologize for Lauren’s behavior and we will certainly cover any
vet costs for Lulu. We love your place and want very much to
stay out the weekend. Isn’t there anything we can do to change
your mind?”
“Not really.
But I can tell you, were Mr. Dean one of my boys, I’d tan his
hide good and proper. He’s not so I can’t,” but I sure would
like to, she thought.
“Please let me
have a minute or two with Lauren. Maybe I can change your
mind,” Julia said.
“OK, but I
don’t think there’s anything to be done.”
Julia closed
the door and turned to Lauren. Her eyes were boring holes into
his. “Dammit this is just the latest consequence of a long
series of selfish, childish behaviors on your part, and I’m
getting sick and tired of them.”
“But, but,”
Lauren stammered.
“I don’t want
to hear it, Lauren. You have a choice. Either take your
medicine from Fiona, if I can convince her to give it, or start
thinking about where you’re going to live during our pre-divorce
separation.”
“Aw Jule, you
can’t be serious. Let me make it up to you.”
“No dice. The
only “but” I’ll accept is yours bared for a whippen’. I want a
decision and be quick about it.”
Taken by
surprise, Lauren did a quick mental assessment. He sure didn’t
want to lose Julia and he reasoned that a spanking, especially
from a woman, would be no big deal. In fact, it might be kinda
fun.
“OK, have it
your way. Go ahead and spank me.”
Julia opened
the door. “If it’s OK with you, he’s agreed to a spanking. How
do you want to handle this,” she asked Fiona.
A knowing,
triumphant smile passed quickly across Fiona’s face.
“All right. I
want him in the tack room at 6 with his butt bared awaiting
further instructions.” With that Fiona turned and strode off.
As Lauren
became increasingly apprehensive, time slowed to a crawl, but
six o’clock arrived and Lauren was in the tack room as ordered,
accompanied by his wife. Fiona entered…her jeans replaced by a
short, wrap around denim skirt, and the gingham, western shirt
by a clingy, sleeveless blouse. Her red/orange hair was pulled
back in a bushy pony tail, which poked out through the back of
her gimme hat. Her cheeks and lips were slightly rouged.
Dressy cowgirl boots accentuated her shapely legs.
“I thought I
told you to have your butt bared. I can see I’m going to have
to go the extra mile to make an impression on that stubborn mind
of yours. Now move that English riding saddle over to that
bench there. By the time I count to thirty I expect to see you
bent over it neked, butt high, wide and handsome.”
Lauren quickly
complied.
Fiona walked
over to the supply cabinet and returned to Lauren. “Here, move
your arms and legs. Yes, like that,” she said.
“That’s not
necessary. I’ll hold still,” Lauren said as his wrists and
ankles were bound by short leather bands to the legs of the
bench.”
“That’s for me
to decide,” Fiona stated as she lifted the razor strap from its
hook on the wall.
“We all know
why you’re here so there’s no sense in dilly dallying. I’ll
strap you until I’m satisfied that you’re truly sorry for what
you did to Lulu, and for disobeying me. Don’t bother wasting
your energy and my time feigning protests or promises. I’ll
rely solely on the state of your buttocks in determining when
you’ve had enough. Understood?”
A sharp crack
resounded off the tile walls. Lauren’s head jerked up. Julia’s
heart skipped a beat.
“Young man you
answer when I ask you a question. Understand?’
“Yes, ma’am!”
Lauren answered, gritting his teeth.
“That’s more
like it. Prepare yourself.”
Up in the
hayloft the two young lovers were roused from their reveries.
“Oh my gosh, what are those noises, Mark?”
“Uh, I’m not
sure,” he lied. Noticing his blushing face Veronica, in a
teasing voice said, “I bet you do.” Pretending to concentrate
for a minute Mark said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Oh, that
must be Mom spanking Mr. Dean.”
“Oh, Marky,
whatever can she be using on him? He sure is making a lot of
noise.”
“I expect it’s
that old razor strap,” he said.
Veronica,
picturing the scene below, listened intently.
“You ever get
the strap from your Mom, Mark?’
“Yeah sure, no
big deal.”
“Maybe not, but
there’s something else that’s rapidly becoming a big deal,” she
said gleefully grasping his swelling stem. Keep this up and I
may have to use that strap myself to keep you in line.” Mark’s
eyes grew larger as she slid her hand down to the base of his
penis, grabbed it, and began avidly fellating him.
Julia was
simply awestruck. The inexorable rise and fall of the strap
across Lauren’s tomato red buttocks. His finely muscled legs
straightening and bending in rhythm to the strokes. Fiona’s
concentration…braless nipples showing firm beneath her
sweat-soaked blouse. Julia’s own asscheeks clenching and
relaxing empathetically. Lauren in shocked disbelief at the
searing sting of the strap.
At one point
Fiona stopped to catch her breath. Lauren turned a red, puffy
face round and looked at Julia seeking succor and relief, but
found her eyes dreamily distant, impervious to his plight.
Truth told Julia was on the edge of ecstasy her delta
deliquescing deliciously.
A rising,
spreading wave of erotic pleasure was causing Fiona to lose
focus on the task at hand. However, she took a deep breath and
recommenced disciplining Lauren. The strokes, though, soon
slowed. Then halted.
Lauren was
groaning weakly. The skin from the tops of his thighs to his
waist was a wash with vermilion hues crossed with fine purplish
stripes where the edge of the strap had bit.
He looked up
and saw Mrs. Martinetti looking down at him drawing the strap
slowly through her right hand, her expression satisfied and
faintly mocking. “Well, cowboy, what do you think? Has this
strap of mine convinced you that being considerate of others’
wishes might be in your own best interests?”
“Yes, ma’am” he
answered meekly.
“Fine then, all
you need to do is apologize and I’ll leave you to your wife.”
Lauren did so.
Fiona walked to
the supply cabinet, retrieved a jar of udder cream, and handed
it to Julia. “Here, this will ease his pain and promote
healing. I’ll have supper delivered to your cabin in a while.”
She then left them alone in the tack room.
Lauren’s sense
of relief was itself soon relieved, for Julia, standing before
him, replaced Fiona. In her hands she flexed a riding crop, the
very one he had used on poor Lulu. He winced when she slapped
it smartly on her riding boots.
“As you can see
we’re not quite through here. You still must pay the price for
embarrassing me and jeopardizing our marriage.”
Her no nonsense
tone preempted Lauren pleading.
She walked
behind him. Lauren shivered involuntarily as she tapped the
underside of his ass a few times with the crop. Then he heard
an ominous hissing sound. The feeling was electric. As
lightning traveling down a tree that miraculously blossoms, a
series of explosions traveled up Lauren’s spine to his brain,
through his ass and balls to the root and tip of his penis. He
reacted immediately, butt cheeks writhing in a vain attempt to
shake off the agonizing bite of the crop.
Julia, no
sadist, choked up her grip on the crop, shortening it, to lessen
its effect. After briskly applying a dozen vigorous strokes she
stopped. Lauren, gasping for air was nearly delirious. His
fiery, throbbing buttocks overlaid with weals. After a while,
with her help, he rose haltingly oblivious to Julia having
gently rubbed udder cream into his belabored backside, and
having unbuckled the leather bands restraining him.
As he stood,
Julia gasped. His penis, a shiny reddish purple, was straining
for attention. She grasped it in her cream slick hand, and felt
her heart swell with love of a depth unknown since the early
days of their marriage. “I love you more than you’ll ever
know,” she said huskily.
Lauren,
regaining his composure, looked deeply into her eyes. “I know
you do. Thank you for sticking with me. I think things are
going to get better with me, and us.”
“Me too,” she
said, and pulled up his briefs and pants. An arm draped over
her shoulder, Lauren walked gingerly from the tack room to their
cabin.
They showered
together. Lauren washed Julia’s back, ass, and legs with a
soapy loofa. They touched and fondled each other. Julia
carefully patted him dry with a soft terry towel. They kissed
their way to the bed and threw back the covers their urgent
coupling rapidly building to bone rattling climaxes.
Restored after
supper, which had been announced by a discrete tapping at the
cabin door, they sipped champagne passing it from mouth to
mouth, leisurely reconnecting, sensuously modulating rhythms,
motions, touches. Losing themselves in a dance along the
borders of tension and release; the present and eternity.
Godamighty, can
you believe?” Lauren said as they regained consciousness.
“Umm,” Julia
purred. “A girl could sure get used to this. In fact, I’ve been
thinking we should figure out how to see to it that we please
each other more often, in bed and otherwise. You’re the
lawyer. Maybe we should draw up an agreement. How bout it?”
“Given what’s
happened this afternoon and evening I basically agree, but I’m
gonna have to take that under advisement. It’s sleepy time for
me. Let me get back to ya in the morning.”
Julia was the
first to awaken. The early morning sunlight was pouring
through the windows of the cabin. She was reenergized and
feeling very horny. Rising up on an elbow she looked
hungrily at Lauren who was sleeping on his stomach. Pulling
back the comforter she began softly massaging his back, working
her way down to his ass and upper thighs. At first she was
unable to credit what she saw. Chaffed skin crossed with narrow
ridges. Centered on each buttock a medallion of white radiating
concentric circles of purple, blue, green, and yellow.
Recalling their genesis she smiled, stopped her sensuous
caressing, and smartly spanked each cheek once with her palm.
Lauren awoke with a start.
“Rise and shine
tiger. Your tigress is ready for some more of that man meat.”
It took a
moment for Lauren to collect his thoughts. And though he had
never seen her look more desirable he said, “Gosh Jule, I’d love
to, but my tank is empty and my balls are still aching form all
that thrashing around last night.”
Her countenance
chilled immediately. “Fine then. They’re about to have
company. I want you on all fours butt high, knees spread by the
time I return.”
When she
emerged from the bathroom Lauren had assumed the position. She
lubed her right hand with facial cream, reached through his
thighs and grasping his flaccid penis pulled it backwards while
peppering his posteriors with the bath brush. Thus stimulated,
and to his utter amazement, an invigorating energy began
coursing through Lauren’s loins. Noting this development Julia
dropped the brush on the bed, and assuming the position herself,
urged Lauren to mount her. As he prepared to do so she arched
her back, reached round and pointing to her pouty nether lips,
entreated Lauren to “Put’er there podnah.”
“Podnah”
responded with alacrity.
Soon after he
entered her, Julia moaned “Oh, I’m going to explode, please come
with me now darling.”
Lauren tried
valiantly, but to no avail. He was losing his erection when he
whispered, “Maybe if I was on top.”
She understood
intuitively what he was asking for and they morphed smoothly to
the male superior position. His erection grew as her vaginal
walls clenched and released his penis. He was so close but, try
as he might, was unable to climax. Sensing his need, and hers,
Julia picked up the brush and began paddling him increasing the
pace and intensity of the strokes. His butt rose to meet the
brush then drove into Julia’s wetness. Soon his whole body
stiffened. He felt as though he was balanced for an eternity on
a tightrope between tension and release. A series of orgasms
shook him to his core. His gasps and groans of agonized delight
seemed to go on forever as Julia slipped a finger wriggling in
his rectum coaxing the last drops of ejaculate from his
throbbing loins.
At brunch,
Fiona looked absolutely girlish even serenading them sweetly
with her rendition of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” Lauren had
difficulty believing this was the implacable Crimson Queen
who had so recently commanded his backside. Ready to head home,
they demurred politely when she suggested they all ride over to
Moon
Lake and do a little fishing.
Mark and Fiona
accompanied the couple to their car. He loaded up their
luggage and bade them farewell. Fiona went round to Julia’s
side of the car and handed her a small burlap sack. “Here, you
take this. I don’t think I’ll be needing what’s inside.”
Julia
instantly knew what the sack contained. Blushing she thanked
Fiona warmly and said “well if you do you know where we live.
Don’t be a stranger. And thank you very much for all you’ve
done for both of us.”
“And you all
for me,” Fiona added.
Later as they
turned off the road to their place it occurred to them
simultaneously, “We never did talk to Fiona about buying
horses. How could we have forgotten. Hah, must be getting
old!”
***
Sheila had
remained silent through the telling. Somewhere along the line
her hand had strayed to her crotch. She was startled when Julia
said, “You naughty girl. As I recall being caught self
pleasuring meant ten licks on one’s bare fanny with the sorority
paddle.” Before Sheila could manage a response Julia went into
the house.
Julia returned
with the “board” and slapped it down on the table. Sheila
immediately sat upright looking demurely innocent. In response
to Julia’s inquiring expression she said, “Isn’t it something.
Part of me dreads that thing and part of me wants it sooo bad.
God, I remember being on both ends of the beast during our
sorority days, and how gratifying it was afterwards to relieve
the pain yourself, or have one of your sisters do it for you.
Lawdy, Miz Clawdy, that sure set your mind free.” She began
squirming surreptitiously in her chair. It was all Julia could
do to keep from following Sheila’s indulgence.
“My oh my.
Just look at the time! May I take a tushy check on your offer?
I promised Ben I’d help him hang a new exhibit in his gallery.
And I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“Sure, if
that’s what you want. Let me walk you to your car.”
As they
approached Sheila’s car Lauren stepped off the front porch. His
hair was still wet from showering. He was wearing loose cotton
peasant pants, an open collared chambray shirt, and huaraches.
“Say how bout a hug from my favorite girlfriend,” he shouted.
The two woman
turned as he approached them. He scooped Sheila into his arms
and planted a smacky smootch on her cheek. “Boy don’t you look
ready to party. And party we should, but something has come up
that Julia and I have to take care of.”
Come up
indeed. You’re reading my mind big boy, Julia thought.
“That would be
great, but as I told Julia, Ben needs me to help him mount a new
exhibit at his gallery. May I take a raincheck?”
“You sure may,”
Lauren said.
As Sheila drove
away Julia pressed herself against Lauren and “grrr’d.”
“Not so quick
young lady. We have some business to attend to that I suspect
will leave you yowling, not growling.”
“Oh shit.”
Julia flushed. “What are you talking about?”
“The new
horses. Remember. You had promised to trailer them in from
Fiona’s place. The vet’s due early tomorrow and we need to have
the horses settled in their stalls by then. If they’re not here
we’ll have to pay him for a house call, and that’s a waste of
money.”
“There’s still
time left. If I leave now I’m sure I can get them in
before sundown.”
“Mebbe so” he
said putting his arm around her waist. “But you might want to
take a pillow along with you. It’s a “fur” piece from here to
Saddle Sore and back. I reckon it’s about time your saucy
backside received a dose of your own medicine. Go fetch the
strap and meet me in my workshop. House Rules, you know.”
