This work of adult
fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe,
includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No
copyright infringement on the original work is intended. Copyright Diana Walker 2006.
DIANA “Life
really is getting back to
normal.”
“Yep, there
you are, worming your way
….” Oh, shit, I wish I hadn’t said that.
His fragile male
ego is going to take that and run with it. Not only is
Terry’s
hand midway between my knee and thigh, but lately we’ve gone
to
sleep with his dick snuggled between my legs as well. I nudged Okie
out of bed a little more forcefully than I’d intended, but
he’ll
get over it. This way I can draw my knees up a little higher and get
my feet working on Terry’s furry lower leg to make up for
that slip
of the tongue. Terry's told me my feet on his legs are as articulate
as my mouth speaking. He hasn't told me in words, but he has also
told me my silent mouth can be excruciatingly expressive as well.
Terry's legs have got
to be one of his
best physical attributes. He rarely wears shorts; he'll wear them
when he runs or swims, but other than that, Levi 501's are his
uniform of the day outside work. That may be why I'm so drawn to his
legs. Not many people get to see them the way I do.
They are like
upside-down trees. I
could belabor the point and liken his toes to leaves and work up from
there. His feet have to be big to balance the strong trunk his
thighs are. His calves seem too small for the rest of his structure,
much like the spindly legs on Thoroughbred horses, but watching their
flexion when he’s doing squats with weight across his
shoulders
shows their strength.
What I truly love
about his legs is the
fur on them. I could tell Terry from every other man in the world
just by the feel of the hair on his legs. When his leg was shaved
when he was wounded nearly killed me; OK, that was a strong dose of
hyperbole, but I missed that fur – a lot – when it
was gone.
It doesn't matter his
leg was encased
in fiberglass, and when the cast came off, the hair had mostly grown
back, seemingly thicker than before. I had imagined a white, naked
leg under the cast. To me it was the perfect representation of his
injury, far more than the hole in his leg which I had seen more
closely than his shaved leg. My imagination formed the picture of
his pale, shrunken, hairless leg and ran with it. I hated seeing it
but couldn't shake it; try having someone say to you, “Don't
think
about a blue hippopotamus.” All your mind can see is a blue
hippopotamus. That was Terry's leg to me. That damn cast reminded
me of my mental picture of his injury every time I saw it.
I love how the hair
follicles on his
leg have their own definition, neatly spaced, randomly distributed,
each standing alone, but working together to be so much more
combined. They are the outer manifestation of his internal workings.
They almost shout, “Male here!”
I felt a slight
tenseness near his
spine and a hesitation in his voice that belied his next words. The
warmth was still in his tone, but it was a shade more restrained than
his normal kidding.
“Are you
making fun of my dick?”
“No,
I’m not making fun of your
dick. I’m sorry …worm was the wrong
word.”
“Good
…I was hoping you’d at
least think of it as a python or anaconda.”
I flipped over to
face him, careful to
tuck his hand and dick back into their homes.
“Oh,
that’s too banal even for
you.” Oh, shit. That was another ill-advised thing to say.
“Could you at least laugh at how badly I’m speaking
tonight? I’m just so tired all the time any more. But at
least I’m not
crankly. My brain just isn’t working.”
“Crankly? Is that akin to
blabbling?” I had finally made him laugh.
“I’m
really not meaning to destroy
your fragile male ego, but I’m just not up to picking the
right
word at the moment.”
“I’ve
heard that when you’re
tired, the truth comes out. That’s the first thing we learnt
about
interrogation techniques …tire them out. But that worm bit
really got to me. Diana, I know I’m satisfying you
physically, but
is something else going on that you’ve not told
me?”
“I’m
worried about taking on both
you and Dolores as students. I’ve never taught riding before.
I
know Alice and I’ll be telling you the same things, but
I’m
afraid of getting one of you hurt. You both think you’re
invincible …Dolores because she’s a kid and
doesn’t know any
better, and you because …I think you are invincible. The only one
I know who can hurt you is
me.”
He reached across me
and turned on the
lamp. I groaned not from the light invading our once peaceful
bedroom but from the importance a lighted conversation means.
I buried my face in
his side, edging my
way up to his arm pit while he was still stretched above me.
“I’m
not up for a heavy-duty discussion tonight.”
“It
doesn’t have to be
‘heavy-duty,’ Lady. I just want you to see my face
when we’re
talking, and I want to see yours.” Our legs were intertwined,
hip-bone-to-hip-bone, and our upper bodies mirrored each other with
heads propped on hands. I suppose I could wrap my feet around his
calves and let my arches seduce his fur. I could muster the energy
to have another go.
“Granted,
Dolores and I are going to
be in tighter quarters here than at Alcie’s, but
we’ve ridden
together enough in Alcie’s big arena that we know how far to
stay
away from each other. With it being just the two of us, we’ll
stay
on opposite sides of the arena from each other. That would be a
lesson in and of itself. Good discipline for us.”
“I’m
not so worried about your two
maintaining spacing because I have enough tricks to keep you
separated. It’s that you’re going to be on Buck for
the first
time, and Dolores will be on Emira for the first time.”
“You’ve
been working both of the
horses. You know precisely what their habits are and
….”
I interrupted him.
“Not precisely.” He ignored my
unspoken fears that I'm not the rider he believes me to
be. Let's face it. Jack is a pushbutton horse; his personality
wants to do what his rider asks, and he’s talented enough to
keep
us out of trouble when I screw up.
“And you
can describe to us what we
should be doing before we ever mount up. Since both of us have been
riding with Alcie, we have good basics. Since you had to do away
with the written riding test for us before you’d let us
mount, why
don’t you come up with a safety test for us? I
can’t believe I
just volunteered to take a written test to ride with you.”
My feet began to
bounce up and down his
calves …they do that when I get excited about something.
“Yeah!
That’d work!” My feet
stilled. “Suppose you flunk the exam?”
“We
won’t. I know Dolores is on
her third time through the Blue Book, and I’m in LA next
week. I’ll take my copy with me and spend my nights studying.
Now
why are you so tired? It isn’t just worrying about Dolores
and
me.”
I started ticking off
on my fingers. “New boarders. The Juniors’ arrival.
Something’s going on
with Reags, and she hasn’t told me. Whether you’re
learning to
ride because you think I want you to and your heart isn’t
really in
it. My more extensive travel with work.”
“What do
you think’s going on with
Reags?”
“They’ve
been trying so hard to get
pregnant …no, I mean they’ve been trying so
desperately ….”
“If
you’re trying to get pregnant,
it’s best if it’s hard.” I grabbed him,
and he politely took
my hand off his dick and nestled back in. “I think
you’re too
tired for a second go tonight. Besides, we’re having a
serious
convo here, and we’re not going to interrupt it.”
“Because
she hasn’t been talking to
me, they’ve either found out there’s a problem or
she’s
pregnant. Either way, she hasn't confided in me.”
“Diana, if
she’s up the spout,
they’re likely waiting until she reaches her third month
before
making the announcement. Marjorie and I didn’t say anything
until
forced. Of course with Marjorie and me, we were actually hoping
she’d miscarry, and nothing would ever have to be said. Reags
doesn’t want to put you on her roller coaster if she is
pregnant.” Terry traced my lips' outline, still a bit full
from earlier. "Are
you looking for solutions, or are you just blabbling?”
“Maybe a
little bit of both.”
“Talk to me
about Reags.”
“I’m
supposed to be her best
friend, Terry. And it seems like there’s a distance between
us. It’s not just them trying to get pregnant.
We’re not even
spending much time together any more. Hell, your and Max’s
escapades aren’t even making us laugh these days.”
“They’ve
been married less than six
months. They’re still settling into their
relationship.”
“They’ve
lived together for
almost two years, Terry.”
TERRY “Trust me,
Diana; it’s different
once you put on the rings.” Oh, fuck. Now I’ve
likely put her
back into anti-marriage mode.
“What’s
different about it?”
“It’s
the permanence.”
“We’re
permanent. Aren't we?”
“Very much
so, but once you’re
married, the ability to walk away with relative ease is
gone.”
“Relative ease? I couldn’t
walk away from you, no matter how bad it got, Terry. And if you
left, I think it would kill me.” I hoped that was no
overstatement, not that I would want Diana to shrivel up and die, but
it did assuage my pride from her earlier comment.
“Diana,
it’s a difference in how
contracts are drawn. You and I co-own property. If we were to
split, dividing it up would be comparatively easy. Once we’re
married, the courts would tell us how everything is divided up and
sorted. It’s a lot more complicated. The complications have
everything to do with either party’s feelings; the legalities
be
damned.”
“People
I’ve worked with who were
divorced told tales of knock-down drag-out fights over ceramic cats. It
wasn’t the value of the ceramic, God knows they bought it at
Canton's First Monday flea market, but what it represented, and that
was control …having your own way, getting some vengeance on
the one
you once loved. The stories were funny, but you couldn’t
laugh
because of what they represented to the principals.
“Terry?
What would we fight over?”
DIANA Terry and Dolores
were sitting at
opposite end of the dining table. They were dressed in riding
clothes; I was in riding clothes. I had their safety exams in my
hand.
“This is
part essay and part
demonstration. You have one hour for the essay. I want you to be
concise but fully explain the procedures to me so I can visualize how
you’d accomplish each of the tasks. You may begin.”
I clicked the timer
on my watch. Terry
wrote furiously for a while, stopped, looked off into space, and
started writing again. Twenty minutes later they were still hard at
it. I’d expected them to be done in 15. I leaned over
Terry’s
shoulder to see what he’d last written because he’d
stopped and
gotten a funny look on his face. Dolores raised her hand; she was a
product of Catholic schools. Put her in any sort of academic setting
and 'The Rules' kicked in.
“Auntie
Dee, are you going to count
off for spelling?”
“If I can
understand what you mean,
no, but we will have a discussion later on the correct
spelling.”
“Okay.”
She went back to writing,
and I glanced at Terry to see him smile at her. I walked to the
computer and sat, glancing at them from time to time. Alice was on
IM with a last minute pep talk about lesson management. I managed
not to laugh at one point when I looked over and saw them making
silly faces at each other. They really did look like a couple of
kids taking an exam in a schoolroom.
“Start
winding it up. You have 15
minutes.”
*
“Ten
minutes.”
*
“Five
minutes.”
*
“Time’s
up. Give me your papers.”
Terry walked to the
refrigerator and
turned to Dolores.
“Want a
Coke, Love?”
“Sure.
Thanks, Uncle Terry.”
I looked over to see
a beer in his hand
and put a stop to all of that.
“No!
You’re not getting around
horses after you’ve been drinking, and Dolores
can’t have
caffeine. It will tighten her back. There’s decaf iced tea in
there. You can both have that, or water, or milk, or red grapefruit
juice. That’s it until you’ve both finished the
practical
portion of your exam.” Terry shook his head and grinned at
Dolores.
“Bloody
school mistresses, right,
Dolores?” She just laughed.
“Milk’s
fine for me.” Terry
shook his head and got her a glass of milk, opting for a bottle of
Perrier he found for himself.
*
The lesson had gone
surprisingly well
despite my nerves. My lower back was tight; Junior reminded me to
breathe periodically; my shouted instructions to my riders varied in
pitch and strength throughout the lesson.
Buck and Emira both
behaved
beautifully. It had helped that they were used to being in the arena
together. When I worked Buck, Emira was tied nearby to watch. Buck
got to observe Emira's schooling sessions. I'd taken them out
together for trail rides so they would be used to moving close
together. I rode Buck and led Emira, explaining to them how I wanted
them to act together. I can only imagine what they thought of my
earnest words to them.
Terry’s new
jumping saddle looked
really nice and fit Buck perfectly. It should; Terry and I had the
saddle maker come out twice to fit it to Buck's back. We had gotten
our wires crossed, and each of us had scheduled him without telling
the other. Terry and I have come a long way on communicating, but we
still have our screw-ups. Mike, the saddlemaker, had been glad to do
it; the travel charges to and from our place had padded his bill
significantly, and with Terry's dressage saddle yet to be made, he
would have Buck's back measurements memorized for it. He'd brought
Terry's finished saddle the second time and had done some fine
tweaking on padding at the farm before I began oiling it up.
Terry and Dolores had
ridden very well,
showing none of the nerves I had. They hadn’t run into each
other,
and I hadn’t run them
into each other. Of course it helped
me immensely to have the calming presence of the Juniors standing
beside me throughout the entire lesson. At one point Junior, the
cat, began climbing my leg for me to hold him; he is a terribly
intuitive cat. He knew I needed the calming influence only a barn
cat can bring.
Early in the ride
Terry and Buck ambled
over to get a drink, and Junior took Dolores' water to her at the far
end of the arena. I passed the half gallon bottle up to Terry,
scratching Buck's big chest to hold him in place with a hand on
Terry's ankle. Terry supported the jug on his thigh and looked down
to me. Not all our most intimate moments are in the bedroom.
They stayed well
spaced and enjoyed
their ride, truncated as it was, immensely from the smiles on their
faces. As for me, it’s hard work riding two horses
simultaneously
so I called a halt to it at 30 minutes.
They walked the
horses around to cool
them down, chatting amiably as they walked around the small paddock
before taking the horses back to the barn, taking off the saddles and
bridles and grooming the horses. I’d watched from the covered
arena as they walked toward the barn and was so tired I thought
I’d
just sit on the portable mounting block. The Juniors got me up and
moving. If it hadn’t been for Junior’s arm around
my waist, I’d
never have made it back to the barn.
When I took on
additional boarders,
Terry and I had put a small refrigerator in the family tack room, the
one where we store our things, separate from the boarders' tack room.
He went to get a beer for himself and the long-awaited Coke for
Dolores. She had it in her hand and was about to open it when I
stopped her.
“Dolores,
you might want to wait a
minute before opening that. I think we have something you’re
going
to want to toast.” She stopped and waited, watching as Terry
and I
went to the family tack room. He got her saddle, and I got the
velvet saddle pad. I’d managed to get one in the same color
as the
one Terry’d given me and had her initials stitched into it.
SOOZE “Mom, come
LOOK! Uncle Terry gave me
my very own saddle!”
She had dragged me
out of the
conversation with Terry, Dee, and Junior about the placement of
permanent mounting blocks and to the tack room. The saddle was on
its rack, and it was beautiful. I didn’t want to think about
what
it cost. I think Terry and Dee were as excited as Dolores; the shine
in their eyes told of the effort both of them had put into this gift.
“It’s
beautiful, Honey. I guess
you’re going to have to be really serious about your riding
now
that they’ve given you something this special.”
“Oh, Mom,
you should have been here! They …”
“Honey,
Terry and Dee are exhausted.” With their arms around each
other, I couldn't tell who was holding
who up. “Why don’t we head home, and you can tell
me on the way? Let’s let Dee and Terry have the rest of the
evening to
themselves.”
“Oh, okay.
Auntie Dee, thanks so
much for your patience with me and all your comments. You talk so
much more than Alice does.” Of course she does. Dee is a far
more
classical rider than Alice could ever hope to be. When Dee was
establishing her credentials with me, she told me about riding at the
Spanish Riding School in Vienna in her own self-deprecating way. That
she really hadn't earned it on her own; she was escorting a
fellow student who was well connected in the Southern California
horsey circles and happened to be blind. In this one instance, a
good deed was rewarded. “And thank you both for my saddle and
pad. I’ll take as good care of them as I will Emira. I
promise you,
you won’t be disappointed in me.”
Terry and Dee smiled
at her as she kept
talking.
“May I
e-mail Noah and tell him about
it? He rides, too!” Suffice it to say that Dolores does NOT
have
a ‘My Space’ account, and her computer is locked
down tighter
than DoD’s. The U. S. Government didn’t train me in
SIGINT for
no reason, and as far as I’m concerned one reason is
protecting my
child.
Terry has come to
terms with another
man being added to my little girl's life. I suppose email traffic to
the office server will increase over the next few weeks with Dee's
emails to Terry reassuring him he is still her hero. Now
those are a few emails I wouldn't mind hacking into; they could serve
our love life well.
“Yes, you
may e-mail Noah if you
like.”
TERRY “Did
wearing the dancers’ jock help
at all?”
“Not a
great deal, but it did offer
more support than a regular jock strap. Why is it that men ride
astride? Seems if we want to keep from injuring the good bits, men
would ride side-saddle.”
“It
probably has to do with several
things …male dominance for one. You can also control the
horse a
lot better with a leg on each side, leaves your hands free for swords
or AK's. Side-saddles have the horn that you hook your leg around,
and the good bits would get smushed between your legs.
There’s
really no way not to have bruised bits, Terry.”
“Max must
have had callouses on his
bits given all the years he spent in a saddle.”
She laughed.
“Possibly, but I’m
not going to be the one to ask him about it!” Nor was I.
We were back in the
house, and Diana
had the whirlpool tub filling as I undressed. She put my hand on her
shoulder to steady me as I jammed my boot into the boot jack to pull
it off. I really would have preferred her fanny in my face as she
crouched over each leg tugging the boot off, but we can save that for
when we have ridden together. The tall boots take the longest to get
off of any of the clothes and have to come first. Diana pulled my
polo off whilst I skinned out of the breeches, jock, and socks in one
motion. She looked at me, tilting her head to one side.
“Did you
mind Junior having his arm
around me as we walked back to the barn?”
“No
…but it didn’t exactly fit
with my fantasy.”
“What
fantasy?”
“The one
all adolescent boys have
about getting it on with the stern school mistress. Stern school
mistress in riding clothes and boots …the only thing you had
in my
wool-gathering that you don’t now is the riding crop in your
hand.”
“I can fix
that.” She walked to
the jacket stand by the back door where she keeps an extra crop and
picked it up, came back to look down at me in the whirlpool, and
slapped the side of her boot with it.
