“Hey,” said Colton, suddenly getting an idea. “You didn’t bring your horse, did you?”
“Don’t go anywhere without her,” said his friend, tipping his cowboy hat. Colton’s’ friend’s name was Matt, and he was known around the city as The Cowboy, because he didn’t even own a car. Nor a motorcycle, moped, or bicycle. He went everywhere on his horse, tying her up outside at the bicycle post.
“Great,” said Colton. “I need to borrow her.”
“Sorry, Colton,” said Matt The Cowboy. “I’ve never been in the habit of lending her out. You can understand, right, Colton?”
Colton nodded frantically. “But here’s the thing--- Well, first of all, yes, I understand that. But this is love we’re talking about. I need to find Katy, and she’s terrified of motorcycles, and my truck’s not starting.”
“Look, Colton,” said Matt. ”I really appreciate the initiation. There’s a lot of free food and booze. I’ve already had over five whiskies. But why don’t you try to find someone else’s car to borrow? Sally Thunder has always been with me, and I don’t want to lend her out to anyone. You get that, right?”
“Yeah,” said Colton, distractedly. He was in the zone where none of what Mat The Cowboy was saying mattered to him. “Where is she?”
“Tied up right around the corner, under a big Oak Tree. But I already told you, Colton, I’m not lending her to you.”
“Great,” said Colton, not paying any attention, and dashing around the corner of the building to the horse, Sally Thunder.
Matt The Cowboy chased after him. “Don’t you dare get on that horse,” screamed Matt.
Colton ignored him, and expertly swung himself up on Sally Thunder. She was a really magnificent horse, strong, powerful, and young. She was jet black, with a beautiful coat. One white mark ran down her back in the middle, twisting and turning like a lightening bolt.
“Get off her now!” shouted Matt The Cowboy.
“No time for that,” said Colton. “Got to find Katy.”
“To hell with that!” shouted Matt. “To hell with Katy.”
“What’d you say?” said Colton.
“You heard me,” said Matt.
Matt tried to grab Colton’s legs, to pull him off the horse. But Colton had already jumped off the horse himself. He didn’t want anyone insulting Katy, his Katy. He was filled with a rage.
Matt put his hands up, and got into his boxer’s stance.
But Colton was too fast for him. Colton was too powerful.
Colton spun on his hips, putting one leg forward, the way he had been taught to punch.
He swung, his fist flying in a huge arc.
His fist connected with Matt’s face.
Matt wasn’t any match for Colton’s strength. He crumpled, and fell to the ground in a heap. His cowboy hat rolled away into the dust.
“Sorry, buddy,” said Colton, feeling a bit of remorse.
He swung himself back up on Matt’s horse.
“Giddy up,” he cried, using his boots to dig into Sally Thunder’s hide.
She responded by shooting forward at a gallop.
Soon Colton was racing through the city streets. The sound of her hooves on the pavement was deafening.
Colton rode, his suit jacket flapping in the wind. He kept one hand on his cowboy hat, to keep it from flying off in the wind. If he had had his old regular hat, this would have never happened. It would have stayed right on his head, without any issues.
Colton rode and rode. Eventually Sally Thunder tired, and they had to slow to a walking pace.
He got some strange looks, and quite a few wolf-whistle calls from women, women who liked nothing more than to see a sexy muscular cowboy riding by on a horse.
Colton rode for hours.
The sun was already starting to set.
There were still no signs of Katy.
Should he give up? Should he head back to her apartment?
But somehow Colton didn’t think he would find her there.
He had a strange idea come on to him all of a sudden. He didn’t know where it had come from.
But thought that maybe Katy had gone to a little park in an obscure corner of the city. There was an unusual weeping Willow tree there, by a small lake. Katy had mentioned it once to him in passing as a place she liked to go.
“Let’s go,” cried Colton, digging his heels as hard as he could into Sally Thunder. Sally was tired, but she rallied to the cause.
Her hooves were clamoring against the pavement once again.
Colton’s’ cowboy hat flew off in the wind. He turned to look at it flying through the air…the fancy white hat. He didn’t need it anymore. To Colton, that hat represented the last of his quest to become a celebrity. As soon as he got home, he would put his old hat on again. He was done with fancy hats, with Sheila, with Cambridge Whitehead, with everyone except Katy.
The wind was flying through his hair.
Twenty minutes later, it was dusk, and Colton arrived at the park.
Sally Thunder blasted through the park at top speed.
“Whoa,” cried Colton, pulling back on the reins.
There was Katy, crumpled into a little ball, under the Weeping Willow tree. The tree was massive, towering into the sky, its branches turned down in sorrow towards the ground.
“Katy!” said Colton, expertly jumping off Sally Thunder.
“Colton!” said Katy. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did,” said Colton, putting his arms around her and holding her close.
“You didn’t go through with the wedding?”
Colton shook his head. “Of course not, Katy. I love you and want to be with you. To hell with all that celebrity stuff.”
“But if you don’t marry Sheila, you’re not going to be famous.”
“I don’t give a damn,” said Colton. “I only want to be with you, Katy.”
“I only want to be with you too, Colton.”
They kissed, and continued kissing until the sun had completely set and the park was enclosed in a peaceful darkness.
30. KATY
Two years had passed since that disastrous fake wedding. Colton had returned the horse to his friend, and bought him a few drinks to make up for it. They were buddies again, palling around down at the rodeo arena.
Cambridge Whitehead had been right. Colton had never become famous. Not only that, but his name was never in any of the papers. Cambridge really did have a hold on the press, and he was true to his word.
Meanwhile, though, Colton continued as the #1 rodeo champion. He gained quite the loyal following of other rodeo heads, people who really appreciated what he did as an art.
Neither Colton nor I had any problems with him not being famous, being a complete unknown with the sport.
In fact, we both often talked about how nice it was. We got to live our peaceful life, away from the bother of the press, away from hounding reporters. We could go dancing and not be bothered by Colton’s’ fans. All the fans had drifted away now that his name wasn’t in the papers at all anymore.
We both loved it. We couldn’t have been happier.
Colton had wanted to be a celebrity for job security, essentially. But he had grown more careful in recent years…more carefully on the bull. And hadn’t been injured in the slightest. Apparently that happened sometimes to older rodeo stars…they got wiser and more careful in their later years.
Colton was pulling in quite a bit of money as a rodeo star. He had to leave sometimes to tour, but I often went with him, and found a lot of joy in exploring new cities with him around the country.
Sara and I were good friends again, and we had our wedding planning business back in full swing. Since the reporters had already been at the wedding, Cambridge hadn’t been able to suppress the fake wedding from getting into the papers. The upside of the whole thing was that Sara and I had become instantly famous as wedding planners. We had more clients than we knew what to do with, more than we could handle.
Colton and I had
moved out of the city and into the country. We had a little farm house on a ranch with more than 1000 acres. Colton had plenty of room to ride his horses around, through the fields, and he was even teaching me to ride. He loved the winding country roads for riding his motorcycle. He still had his beat up old truck, although there was a new engine sitting in the front of it.
The flame of our love had only grown stronger. We spent all the time we could together. We still had wild all-night love making sessions. We liked to say that we had only grown better at sex, and the sex had only grown more exciting, and more interesting. We made occasional comments about having a baby together….we figured we would wait and see what happened…let things happen naturally.
Oh, and we had gotten married. How could I forget to mention that?
That was one wedding I hadn’t planned. Sara had taken care of everything, and it had been a truly magnificent wedding. It had been big, but not too fancy. Country style, we liked to call it. We’d had it here on our ranch, in the bright sunlight in one of the fields. Colton had worn his oldest and most battered cowboy hat.
THE END
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ALASKAN LOVE
Roxeanne Rolling
1. FLASH FORWARD
Roxy made hand gestures to the guide, who did not speak English, to stay back.
This was a clearing, in the forest. Roxy paused for a moment, but continued walking. She looked back to see the guide sitting on a rock, facing the opposite direction. He pulled out a tin of dipping tobacco and inserted some into his upper lip.
Roxy was about to leave behind everything she had known. She knew that this was the place. The place where it all began. And the place where it would end.
It had taken her a whole month of hiking, walking through the uncharted wilderness, fighting off beasts and sickness. Her body had begun to transform already before her eyes. She had developed new strength, and her muscles had grown. She was losing weight without trying to do so.
Stepping into the clearing, Roxy felt something. It was an ancient thing. But it felt new, and fresh, rejuvenating. It felt like something she had known briefly in childhood and then forgotten.
In the center of the clearing, there was a small stone statue of a pregnant woman giving birth to a wolf. The statue must have been carved thousands and thousands of years ago. It was beautiful, but roughly hewn. She could see the dents and gashes where the ancient tool had worked at it again and again.
Roxy intuitively knew what to do. Sylvan had not been able to give her any further instructions. “You will know what to do when you get there, is what the natives say,” he had told her. “They say that if you are meant to acquire the power, you will know. If not, you must turn back, to avoid grave danger.”
Roxy knew that she must pray, pray to the ancient spirits.
And she had to pray in the most ancient way, the way humans had been praying for millennia. She needed to masturbate.
Despite the cold, Roxy undid her pants, and slid them down around her knees. She reached down, touching her lips, which seemed to shrink against the cold. But soon she was wet and warm, her lips opening like an Alaskan flower.
Roxy thought of Herbert, and of his cock. She thought of their love making in his apartment.
Roxy’s fingers moved faster and faster.
The woods were silent.
Roxy came, experiencing an orgasm more powerful than any she had ever experienced before.
She felt something happening. The orgasm continued. Her body felt wrecked by the waves of pleasure shooting through it. She fell to the forest floor, where she felt the pine needles and smelled their scent.
The waves of pleasure continued, unabated.
2. THE PRINTS & THE COLLEGE
Months earlier, Roxy was in her office at New Jersey College. Roxy was working late that night at the office. Her office light was the only one on in the entire building. Even the janitor, Bill, had left for the night. Bill was completely bald on top, with scraps of hair hanging down to his shoulders. He and Roxy had had a brief office affair, if you could call it that.
It was more like Bill had fucked her one night on her office table, after everyone else had left. Things had been weird between them after that. And Bill hadn’t even emptied her trash for a full two weeks after. She’d had to resort to dumping the trash out the window. She was on the second floor. It wasn’t too bad to watch the pieces of paper floating down the ground. Actually, it had been the highlight of her day.
Roxy was a professor of Archeology at New Jersey College. They were only twenty miles from the beach, but Roxy never got to go. For one thing, she was ashamed of her body. Roxy was a pretty big woman. She weighed almost 300 pounds. She was really curvy. And she hated the way she looked.
But the thing about Roxy’s appearance was that men liked her. Men found her sexy. She had big boobs, and a big but. Men liked feeling like they could really grab onto something when they penetrated her. And Roxy had a beautiful face. She had clear skin. She was her own makeup expert. She knew how to make her cheeks look even more chiseled. Her jawline was naturally clean and strong, yet feminine.
Roxy was plump and sexy. She’d had plenty of one-night stands. Or more like a series of sexual encounters. Usually she felt too embarrassed after sex, and wanted to leave right away. She was a very confident woman. But she didn’t feel confident after sex. She liked to be aggressive during sex, and to shout, and scream, and moan loudly. Afterwards, she always felt self-conscious about her big body. It felt like the sheets weren’t big enough to cover her. And afterwards she didn’t like the feeling that she had been completely free and expressive during sex.
But Roxy liked that free feeling. So she went from sexual encounter to sexual encounter, never sleeping with the same partner more than once.
Roxy didn’t have a date tonight. It was Friday. Roxy had been big since her childhood. Her therapist had told her it was a reaction to her alcoholic father, who had
abused her mother. He often would get drunk and throw things at Roxy. All sorts of things. Telephones, shoes, ironing boards, even mattresses.
She wasn’t sure the therapist was right. It was hard for her to blame her father. He’d had a tough life, working in a fish factory. Alcohol had been his only escape. Her mother had withdrawn.
Maybe the therapist was on to something, though. Maybe there was an emotional component to Roxy’s weight. Roxy knew she didn’t eat too much. In fact, she barely ate anything at all. For one thing, she was embarrassed to eat in front of anyone. She didn’t like to imagine what they were thinking about her, about what she was eating. Roxy probably ate less than anyone she knew. And she weighed almost twice as much as everyone else. Twice as much as anyone she’d slept with.
The moon was up and the streetlights were shining. Roxy was looking through some old records, trying to find a topic to write about for her next academic paper. She didn’t have tenure yet at the college. She’d been told by her advisor, a sexy but greying man in his late 50s, that she’d need to publish something really good to stay on the staff. The archeology department was looking for some new blood. Students these days weren’t interested in archeology anymore. The subject was just too old for them. They couldn’t understand anything from before ten years ago, let alone something from well before when they were born.
The department wanted to get some fresh new ideas, or some fresh new professors, who could connect with the students. It was only that way that the department could stay afloat and the professors could keep their jobs.
Now, Roxy needed to write something exciting. She needed to make a completely new find in a very old field. Something so new it would blow everything else out of the water. If she didn’t, she’d lose her job and wind up working again at the 711 she’d worked at during her grad school years.
The hours were long, lonely, and boring.
Sighin
g, Roxy pushed aside a huge stack of books she’d taken from the library. The librarian was constantly joking with her, asking what in the world she was trying to discover with these old books. They had been written a hundred years ago. Books by old explorers. Books by old white men who were now dead, basically. Everything in them had already been combed over by a hundred other professors. Nothing new had ever been found.
How was Roxy supposed to find something new in something so old?
The books feel behind her desk with a loud clunk.
Great, now she had to somehow get behind the desk. It was hard for Roxy to bend over. Her boobs were getting so heavy, it felt like she was carrying a huge baby on her chest. Bending over was always difficult. And she had back problems too.
One of the books remained on the table. Sighing again, Roxy opened it up, flipping aimlessly through it. She was completely disheartened. She might as well go and apply to the 711 right now. There wasn’t much point in waiting around for them to fire her. She could see herself now, facing a panel of the other archeology professors, all of whom were men.
Roxy imagined how they would talk to her sternly, while reviewing the papers in front of them. All of her hard academic work would go up in smoke. The papers and books she’d written would be filed in some dark corner of the library, and never read again. She’d be pouring Slurpees while some young new man took her lecturing place.
Roxy had a really good visual memory. She liked to imagine things visually. What would happen if, during the review meeting, she got down on her knees under the long panel table, and unzipped the pants of each of her colleagues? She’d reach in and delicately pull out their soft penises. Meanwhile, they’d keep reading their declaration, explaining why Roxy needed to be fired. She’d tug on each cock until it started to get hard. Then she’d move onto the next one, and the next one. The men would be trying to maintain composure, trying hard to keep concentrating on firing Roxy. They’d all be nodding along in unison, as the speaker stumbled over his words, trying to mask the little moaning sounds he was making.
Wild Ride: A Bad Boy Romance Page 16
