“Thank god,” Davis moans. That makes me laugh. “Well, really! I don’t know those people, and I didn’t like the idea of that.”
“Good. Because it wouldn’t matter if you did―not happening.” Everything I think we could possibly need is in the bag and I hand it to him. “Here. You carry this. I’m right behind you.” I grab my phone on the way out the door, and we chatter lightly on the way to the restaurant.
When we get there, Davis looks kind of shocked. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re meeting some people.” I just sashay on in, Davis on my heels, and I tell the hostess, “I’m with the library group.”
“Oh, yes! See the lady back there in the green? That’s them.” She points, and I see someone look our way.
Before I can get all the way to the table, the woman in green stands. She’s a beautiful, statuesque black lady, probably in her thirties, and she has a warm smile. “Tasha?”
“Yes! Tamika?”
“Yes! Welcome!” She hugs me and I instantly feel comfortable. “This is my pony.” She steps aside and I find myself face to face with a short, adorable ginger guy with big blue eyes.
“How d’ya do?” he asks in a lilting Irish brogue.
“Quite well, thank you. This is my pony, Davis. His pony name is Trusty,” I tell them.
“So good ta meet ya, Davis. I’m Eric, and mah pony name is Killer.” His smile is broad and I like him instantly.
Even better, I feel Davis relax beside me and he offers politely, “Nice to meet you. And you too, Tamika.”
“And you as well! Let me introduce you around the group.” She begins the introductions. Within the group are two more women with pony boys, a woman with a pony girl, and a man with a pony boy and a pony girl. There’s also a gay couple, one of whom is a pony, and two more gay men with male puppies. We decide on the buffet so Davis can get his fresh greens and I can get hot food. Everyone laughs and talks, and it’s comfortable and friendly.
As we eat, Davis looks around but doesn’t say much. Finally, one of the other ponies, Paint, asks, “So have you been in a group before?”
Davis nods his head, then barely whispers out, “So do you guys, um, breed?”
Paint looks a little surprised. “Is that what you want?”
A horrified look contorts Davis’s face. “No! But that’s all the other group really wanted to do, and we’re not, I mean, that’s not why―”
“I get it.” Paint nods to his master, Dallas. “Yeah, we accidentally got mixed up in that too, but we didn’t get very far into it before we realized what was going on and decided to get out. That would’ve split up me and Gretchen, er, Sweetie Pie,” he says, nodding toward his master’s pony girl.
“Wait.” I’m confused. “Are you―”
“My name’s Phillip. Gretchen and I are married. We were lucky to find Dallas. He lets us be ponies together and doesn’t try to get involved in our marital relationship, just gives us safe spaces and places to play. Neither of us wanted to be master or mistress, and this works out great.”
“And I get to enjoy having the ponies,” Dallas smiles as he nods. “They’re good ponies, and we have a lot of fun.”
“Speaking of which, are we all about ready to go?” Tamika asks. Everyone agrees it’s time. “Eric, baby, take my car and take Davis with you. I’ll ride with Tasha. That way if we get separated, they’ll both wind up there.”
“Works for me. See you all there,” Eric throws back over his shoulder.
Davis hangs back but I whisper to him, “Go on, honey. It’ll be okay. They’re fine.” He just nods and follows Eric out, and I can see he’s really nervous. When he looks back at me as he goes out the door, I smile and make a kissy face at him.
“So where are we going?” I ask Tamika once we’re in the car and headed out the drive behind Eric in her car.
“Do you know where the gasoline storage tanks are out on the north side of town?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got a big space behind them, between them and the river. It belongs to Theodore’s parents and they let us use it all we want.” Theodore is the gay man with a pony. “We have a stable out there, and a place to store our equipment. And best yet, it’s private, so we’re safe.”
“Sounds great.”
She smiles. “Wait ‘til you see. It’s really nice.”
We park in the little gravel parking lot and walk down the little dirt road through the trees. Up ahead of us, I see Eric and Davis come to a gate, and Eric opens it and steps through. Behind us is the rest of the group, wandering up, and I follow Tamika through the gate.
And she wasn’t kidding. It is amazing! There’s a cute little red stable with white crossbucks and a paddock in front of it. Off in another area there’s what looks like an arena, complete with two levels of little bleachers. There’s also a course of some kind with what looks like little jumps. A couple of them have small water features, and it hits me: A foxhunting course.
I could cry. It’s so adorable and looks like so much fun. I finally catch Davis’s eyes and he’s so excited that he looks like he’ll just burst. This is what we were looking for.
I think we’ve found our tribe!
“Okay, everybody, pull yourselves together. You’ve got twenty minutes to get fitted out and ready.” I look to Davis and he nods. Masters and furries are splitting up here and there, getting ready to play. One of the mares is undressing completely, and another one is wearing latex. It appears to me that everyone does whatever feels comfortable to them, and no one criticizes. I’m absolutely overcome with gratitude and wonder that we found these people, and filled with joy that Davis seems so relaxed. I let him decide, and next thing I know, he’s down to nothing and slipping on the neoprene shorts. I get out his halter and surprise him with another tail―this one clips on his shorts. He swishes it.
That’s when I finally see it―he smiles. I could just cry. He’s putting on his boots and lacing them up, then slips on his hoof mittens. That’s when it hits me: I’m in love with Davis, I really am. I don’t know what’s going to happen with his work, but we’ll figure it out. All decked out, he turns to me and, just as calmly, simply says, “Thanks for this, Tash.”
I can’t help it―tears course down my cheeks. Before I can say a word, his arms are around me and he kisses my forehead. “I just wanted to find somewhere for you to fit in,” I mumble. “I just want you to feel like you fit in.”
“And I love you for that. Nobody’s ever treated me this way before. It’s amazing.” And, as though he’d heard my thoughts a few minutes before, he says, “I don’t know what’s going to happen as far as my job goes, but if you’ll just hang in there with me, I know it’ll be fine.”
That makes me chuckle. “You can’t run me off!” I look up into his face and, with his hoof mittens, he tries to wipe away my tears. That doesn’t work too well and pretty soon, we’re both giggling.
Tamika claps her hands and everyone turns to look at her. “So, I think we talked about doing some dressage gaits today. Is that okay with everyone?” There are nods all over the place. I have no idea, so I just go along with the crowd. “Killer and I have been practicing. Anyone else?”
“Yeah, we have,” a mistress named Yancy announces. “Maybe between the two of us we’ll have a good repertoire.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Everyone, including the puppies, follows Tamika toward the arena.
Five minutes in, I wind up going back to get Trusty’s bridle. I’ve only had it on him a couple of times, and Dallas helps me adjust it properly so it works as it should and doesn’t hurt his mouth. Eight of us work for over an hour on various gaits, and I actually think the two of us do pretty well for first-timers. A couple of the other masters comment on how well-behaved Trusty is and how graceful, and I’m so proud of him that I could just whistle. Even better, he seems to really be enjoying himself.
At the end of the hour, Tamika says, “Okay, everyone, send them into the paddock to
play and romp while we talk.” I lead Trusty to the gate, slip the bridle off, and give him a slap on the rump. It does my heart good to watch him lope away and trot around the paddock with the other ponies, tossing his head and snorting.
We all gather around and talk about things we could do at the next get-together, things we’d like to learn, and places to get tack and supplies we need. It’s so different from the other group that there’s just no comparison. Everyone’s laughing and chatting comfortably, and every once in a while someone walks over to the paddock and checks on their pony or puppy. And one of the puppies is running around among us, looking for pats and ear scratches. His master snaps at him, “Buddy, sit!” He does, but he whines the whole time. And he doesn’t seem to bother one single person. They just treat him like any other dog.
We hang out for another thirty minutes or so and then someone decides they need to go. That sets off a series of folks saying they should probably leave, so I collect Trusty and lead him over to the benches. “Sit,” I say and point at the bench, and once he’s sat, I take his face in my hands. “Davis, it’s time to go. Hear me?” He stares blankly at me. “Davis, baby, it’s time to go.” There’s this spark of recognition, and then he smiles. “Honey, it’s time to go. Let’s get you dressed and get you a drink.” I help him out of his mittens and then he changes into his clothes, with the exception of his neoprene shorts―he keeps them on. I think he really likes them. The tail almost gets forgotten, but he remembers it and unclips it, then places it almost reverently in his gig bag. It does my heart good to watch him packing everything away with such great care. It’s almost like he’s worshipful of everything he has. And for me, it’s nice to be appreciated.
In the car and on the road we talk about everything we learned that day. Finally, I boil it all down to, “So I have to ask, did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, god, yes! It was so great! I had such a good time, Tasha. Everybody was really nice, don’t you think?”
“They were. I was really impressed. It looked like you, Killer, and that mare were really having a good time.”
He nods. “Starlight. She’s really nice too. And I like Killer. He likes to fish.”
Have we ever talked about the things we like to do in the mundane world? I can’t remember, so I just ask him, “Do you like to fish?”
“I love to fish. My dad and I used to fish when I was little. I haven’t been in years.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice when he adds, “I don’t have any fishing tackle, so I wouldn’t be able to fish per se, but I’d go while he fished just to be by the water and relax.”
“We can get you some fishing tackle if you want to go fishing.”
Bless his heart, he shakes his head. “I’m not going to have a job pretty soon. I can’t spend money like that right now.”
“I can afford something like that. You don’t worry about it; matter of fact, don’t worry about anything. I have a good feeling everything’s going to work out. For you. Job-wise, I mean.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Any prospects?”
He shakes his head again. “Not yet. I did a little digging around this week from work, but I didn’t find anything. But they need accountants at the hospitals. I thought about looking into that.”
I smile as I drive. “I think that’s a great idea. Check on that. You know, I’ll ask around at work, see if anyone knows of anything.” Someone at the law office might know of a business that needs an accountant.
“I’d really appreciate that.” He’s silent for a good while, just staring out the window, and then his eyes seek out mine. “Tash, why are you so good to me?”
“Because, sweetie, you’re easy to be good to! And besides,” I giggle, “you looked fine today in those shorts!” The grin that spreads across his face spreads warmth through my whole body.
By the time we both get showers, it’s past dinner time. “Want a veggie pizza?”
Davis is standing in the kitchen in his pajama pants, and he’s gorgeous, his hair still a little damp. “Sure! We gonna make it?”
“Thought I’d order it. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”
A wicked little smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Too tired for a little roll in the hay with your favorite stud before the pizza gets here?”
I give him my best sexy smile back. “Uhhhhh, let me get this pizza ordered really fast!” The phone isn’t even out of my hands before he backs me into the kitchen counter and covers my mouth with his, and his hands are everywhere. Stripping me completely bare takes him only a few seconds, and then he’s out of his pants before I can even touch them. Wanting him is becoming a full-time thing for me, something I can’t seem to shake even though I know I should show some restraint.
But I’m ready, and he slides into me like oil on water, my ass lifted and resting on the edge of the countertop. The only thing missing is a mirror behind him so I can see that hard, tight, fine ass as it pounds into me. God, he’s amazing. My hand ventures down to my clit and I stroke hard and fast, willing myself to come as Davis finishes off and I clamp down around him, squeezing that long, deep groan right out of his throat.
And suddenly I find myself wondering what people think when they see us together. Aren’t we an unlikely pair? Me older and only marginally attractive on a good day, and him younger and tall and holy-hell-hot-as-August sexy? I’m sure they’re wondering why he would want to be with me. I’m wondering why he would want to be with me. And he blows that all out of the water when he says, “Tasha, you get me. Nobody else ever has, but you get me. Why didn’t I find you sooner?”
All I can do is just dissolve in his arms. He thinks he’s the one who needs me. Little does he know it’s really completely the opposite. I feel more alive than I’ve felt in twenty years. If anybody messes this up for me, for us, god help them.
6
Gloria
I saw that Tasha and Davis couple come in late today and they looked really tired. It was almost like they’d done a marathon or something, but she doesn’t look the type. I still have this suspicion they’re doing something horrible over there. Wish I could catch them.
Russell sees me looking out the window and asks, “Gloria, who are you spying on now?”
“I’m not spying!”
“Unless there’s a parade going by, you’re spying.”
“I just saw the new people coming in, that’s all.” Might as well get up and wander into the kitchen before he wears me out with his wheedling. I pour myself a big glass of iced tea, then give it a shot of something sweet―cinnamon schnapps. Yeah, that’s tasty. Before I go back to the living room, I grab a bowl and pour some snack mix into it, then take it in to the coffee table. It takes Russell about two seconds to dive into it. “Why don’t you want to get to know any of the neighbors?” I ask him, grabbing my own handful of the snack.
“I don’t mind getting to know them, but I’d prefer that it was organic, not something that’s forced on them.”
I’m confused by that. “What do you mean, ‘organic’?”
He sighs loudly like I’m an idiot and he’s having to draw me a picture. “I mean, if I run into them as I’m coming in, or they happen to be walking by when I’m going out or coming in, that’s one thing. It’s another to spy on them out the window and take off at a run toward them when they show up. You scare them to death, then hound them. And if you can’t get any information out of them, you snoop around and see what you can find. I swear, Gloria, everyone here dreads seeing you coming.”
“Well, that’s a really hurtful thing to say. I just want to know what’s going on in my own neighborhood, where the problems are, and what nasty things people are up to so I can warn the neighbors.” I take another swig of my tea and I feel a little better, but not much.
“Warn which neighbors? According to you, they’re all shifty and perverted. So which ones do you want to warn about whom? Because the way you tell it, not one of them is okay. Why would you warn one bad
neighbor about another one?”
He’s got a point there. I’d never thought about it that way. “Well, okay then, maybe I just want to know for my own purposes. You know, so I know which side of the street to walk on.”
“That’s easy!” he says with a laugh. “Walk on this one, because everybody else walks on the other side to avoid you!”
This is really upsetting me and I don’t know what to do. He’s really hurt my feelings and I don’t think he even cares. “Well, apparently I’m worthless and a snooping biddy. Do I do anything right according to you?”
He just chuckles and keeps on watching the baseball game. “You keep a lovely house, even though there’s booze hidden all over it. But I suppose all that alcohol helps keep the germs down, huh?”
I make up my mind right then that I’ll prove to him that something’s wrong with those people over there. I’ve just got to find a time and figure out how to do it. But right now, I think it’s time for more tea.
There’s all kinds of racket coming from the backyard over there at Tasha’s house, and I want to see what’s going on. And I strike on an idea.
Sure enough, that box of brownie mix is still in the pantry, so I grab it and throw it together. Once I’ve done that, I change into a nicer pair of jeans and a simple top and grab the brownies out of the oven when the timer goes off. It doesn’t take too long to cool them and I find a pretty plate I got at the dollar store, cut them, stack them, cover them up with foil, and take off out the door.
After ringing the doorbell a half dozen times―I did, so I’m not lying to them―I go down the side of the fence to the gate. A try tells me it’s fastened, so I knock and wait. Finally, the gate pops open and Tasha’s face peers out. “Yes?”
“Hi, Tasha! Gloria from over there,” I say, making a pointing motion. “Remember me?”
“Oh, yes. Hi. Can I help you with something?”
“No, I just came over to bring you these.” Thrusting the plate toward her, I smile. “Want me to come in and set them out for you?”
Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper's Cove Page 5
