“No, no, that’s okay. I’ll just take them. And thanks for bringing them over.” I can tell she’s trying to get away.
“So you guys are making a lot of racket over here―”
“I’m sorry,” Tasha blurts out. “Are we disturbing you?”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that! Do you need some help? I’d be glad to help you.”
“Thanks, but we’ve got it.” She keeps looking back over her shoulder like something’s about to happen.
It’s obvious she’s not going to volunteer any information, so I guess I’ll just have to ask. “Hey, what in the world are you building out here?”
There’s some kind of hesitation before she finally says, “We’re building a dog house.”
“Getting a dog?”
She shrugs. “We’re thinking about it, but we’d have to have a house for it. We decided we’d build the house first while we’re deciding.”
Okay, that’s really strange, but I don’t say that. Instead, I say, “Good thinking. Smart move. Sure you don’t need help?”
“Yes, I’m sure, but thank you so much. And thanks for the, um, what’s in here?” she asks.
“Brownies.”
“Brownies. Well, thanks very much. I’m sure we’ll enjoy them.” With that, she ducks back inside the fence and I hear the gate latch.
She didn’t even invite me in. How totally rude! These days, people know absolutely nothing about hospitality. But they can’t hide it forever. Sooner or later, I’ll find out what’s going on in there. You can bet on that.
Tasha
“We’re going to have to be careful,” I whisper to Davis. “That woman is snooping, I just know it.”
Davis takes a big bite of brownie. “How do you know? Maybe she’s just being nice.”
“She asks too many questions. Makes me nervous.” I grab a brownie and take a bite. “From a box.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because I just can. I’ll be right back―I’m taking them inside.” I climb the four steps on the back of the house and place the plate in the middle of the dining room table. But before I can get back outside, there’s a knock on the front door. Oh, shit―I can’t believe she’d come back. Without bothering to look through the peephole, I jerk the door open and let out a strangled, “Oh, my!”
The woman on the porch jumps a little. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”
I give a little laugh. “I’m sorry! I thought you were someone else! What can I do for you?”
She smiles. “I’m Cheryl; Cheryl Danvers. I live right over there with my husband, Samuel. We’re ministers at the church a few blocks away. I just noticed both your cars here and wanted to say hello. We tend to stay to ourselves around here, but I felt like someone should make you feel welcome.”
“Somebody already has.” I don’t mean to sound so sarcastic, but I know I do. “Sorry. It’s just that―”
“Gloria?”
My eyes fly open and I know my jaw just dropped. “Yeah! How did you know?”
Cheryl laughs right out loud. “Oh, just a lucky guess! She’s the snoopiest old bag on the face of the earth.”
“You’ve got that right! She heard us working in the backyard and brought us brownies to try to get in. Didn’t work,” I assure her.
“Good. She drives everyone in the neighborhood crazy. Have you met any of the other neighbors?”
I shake my head. “No. Haven’t had a chance. We both work and then we’re pretty busy on the weekends.”
“Well, so let me point them out. I don’t expect you’ll remember, but at least you’ll have an idea.” Cheryl proceeds to point to houses and tell me the residents’ names. “Mind you, I don’t know them all, but I do know quite a few. They’re all very nice people. And if you ever get a chance to meet Gloria’s husband, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Russell’s a really nice guy. I feel sorry for him sometimes.”
“I feel sorry for him all the time.” I step aside and open the door wider. “Would you like to come in? Sit down? Have something to drink?”
“Oh, no. I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to say hello and I’ll go back home. Have a lovely afternoon.” She puts out her right hand and when I take it, she adds, “And if I can help you with anything, anything at all, never hesitate to ask.”
“Will do. And thanks for coming over.” I watch her stroll back toward her house as I close the door. She seems like a nice person and I really am glad she came over. The only thing she asked me was if I’d met any of the other neighbors. No personal questions. I appreciate that. But she struck me as the type who’d be safe to talk to.
When I get back outside, Davis has most of the walls put together. “That’s going to be really cute!”
“I think so too.” The little portable building looks just like a tiny barn, and I think it’ll be perfect. When we get it all assembled, we’ll build the little paddock in front and it’ll be finished. Davis will have his own area here, and we’ll have a little spot where we can work. That will be fun.
Thank god we fixed that fence so she can’t see in. Gloria really wants to know what we’re doing. And I have no intention of her finding out.
“God, I hurt all over.” Davis is sitting on the ottoman in the living room in nothing but a towel, his skin fragrant from the shower he just took. Without him asking, I take the brush out of his hand and start brushing his hair. I swear, this boy has more hair than anyone I ever saw. I brush and brush, and he moans softly from time to time to let me know he’s still enjoying it. When I finish brushing it and lay the brush down, I start kneading his shoulders, and the soft moans turn to loud groans. “Oh, god, Tash, that feels so good.”
In a flash, I’m on my knees in front of him, flipping the towel open and staring at his hardness. God, he’s so perfect. I don’t ask him before I take him in my mouth, his salty slickness making me hungry for more, and I work it in earnest, trying my best to give it all I’ve got and make him happy. His fingers twist my hair into spirals as he gives in to my lips and tongue, embracing the coaxing I’m applying to his length and girth. Knowing how much I want him is the one thing I’m trying to convey here, and I think he’s getting the message as he moans out, “Tash, no. Stop.”
“Why?”
He lifts me like I’m nothing, like I weigh no more than a thought, and carries me down the hallway toward the bedroom. Pitching me onto the bed, he stares at me with those big, stunning eyes and crawls up beside me. “What are we doing, Tasha?”
“I think we’re making a relationship.”
“Do you really want a relationship with a guy who wears a bit in his mouth and prances around like a horse? That’s really what you want?”
“You do realize that in order to have come as far as we have, I have to be kinky too. You get that, right? I know you do. You’re bound to. So yes, that’s what I want.”
“An unemployed pony?”
I’m glaring at him and I don’t care. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Hearing him call me “ma’am” makes my nipples go hard. He forces my legs apart with his knees and, rising up over me, pours himself into me like water into a glass. Every part of me is fusing with every part of him, and I don’t want food or water or air, just Davis and the magic that’s happening between us. Lord, it’s amazing.
“Harder and faster. Harder and faster, Davis. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh, god,” I snarl, begging like I’ve never begged before. This is heaven, and I’m being fucked by an angel, I just know it. Wonder how that preacher woman would feel about that?
Nearing my orgasm, Davis leans down to my ear and whispers, “Come with me, Tasha.” That’s all the encouragement I need, and I plummet down the rabbit hole with him, everything blurring and whizzing by my head as I writhe and scream. It’s delicious, so delicious. He’s just fucking yummy as sin.
Lying there in the late daylight, I look over at him and he smiles at me. With a hand on my face, he kisses me, dr
inks me in, and I want to be here with him until I draw my last breath. It startles me when he says, “As long as I’m with you, I don’t worry. I believe I’ll find a job; I know I will. You give me confidence. You make me feel safe.”
“Good. Then I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. And I’ll keep doing it as long as you’ll let me,” I say, leaving a little feather-light kiss on his chin.
“I’m not planning to tell you to stop.” His lips find mine again and plant a soft but solid kiss on them, one that makes my breath catch in my chest. “Tasha, I love you. I love everything about you. And I love the way you love me.”
“I love the way you love me. And I love that I can do things for you that no one else has ever done. I want to be that person for you, babe. I want to be the one who gets you.”
“You do. No one else but you. They never have and they never will.”
I drift in and out of sleep, his arms tight around me, and I thank my lucky stars I’m here with him.
Sunday is a good day, as good as any. Like a pair of little pigs, we finished off the brownies last night. I’m pretty sure that was all stress eating, between Gloria snooping, the way I was startled by Cheryl’s visit, the work on the barn, and thinking about Davis’s soon-to-be jobless state.
So I decide maybe a little exercise is in order―that’s always a stress-reliever. “Dress out however you want. Your pony suit, in the buff, I don’t care. We’re going to exercise out back.” I watch him disappear down the hallway without a word, but I can tell he’s excited about the idea.
He comes back in the brown neoprene shorts with his hair brushed to one side, his boots laced and tied, and his mittens in his hands. He holds the mittens out. “Can you help me with these?”
“Sure!” After we’ve gotten them on, his eyes meet mine. “I’ll let you out the back door. Take five to get into the headspace and I’ll be right there.” There’s no way he could maneuver the door knobs with those mittens, so I get him through those obstacles and he lopes toward his little play space.
It takes me a bit longer than five minutes to get my jodhpurs and blouse on and get outside, and I step down the back stairs to find him scratching his shoulder against the fence. He’s oblivious to me until I call gently, “Trusty! Here boy!” and make that clucking sound. I’ve got a bag with me and he nuzzles it curiously. “We haven’t used this yet. Let’s do!” After I’ve clipped the tail on the back of his shorts, I pull out the big horse head mask. I love the smell of the leather, and I know he will too. He bends down, bracing himself with front hooves on his knees, and I put it on, adjusting and fitting until I think it’s right. “Does that feel okay?” He stomps a foot and nods. “Good deal. Let’s work on the lunge line, shall we?”
We do that for a few minutes, then I decide to work on some of the dressage movements. We work on the high step and the Spanish walk, and then we canter and do some flying changes. I think he’s doing very well. We’re having a grand time when I hear something that makes the breath catch in my throat.
Someone sneezes.
I throw a glance toward Trusty, but he’s in pony headspace and he doesn’t even notice. After I’ve slapped my hand over his muzzle for just a second to let him know to be quiet, I dart as quickly as I can toward the gate. When I throw it open, I hear footsteps around the side, but they’re moving pretty quickly.
And that’s when I see them: Cinder blocks. They’re stacked like steps against the fence. Holy shit―somebody’s been spying on us over the fence! There’s only one person that could be.
I don’t know exactly what to do, so I just return to Trusty and stroke his face. He bumps my chest and waits. There’s a war being waged inside me. On one hand, I want to tell him so he knows our privacy may have been compromised. On the other hand, he’s enjoying himself. He shouldn’t have to be afraid to do what he wants in the privacy of our backyard. This is pissing me off to no end, and I’ve got to figure out what to do.
Right now, I just want to get him inside and away from prying eyes. Leading him up the back steps, I close the door behind us once we’re inside, then take his face in my hands. “Davis? Play time is over. No more pony now.” I unbuckle the mask and pull it off, then watch as his eyes finally find mine. “Hey, baby.”
“How did I do, Tasha?”
“You did great! Did you enjoy that?”
He nods. “I think so. It’s weird. When I’m back, I don’t really remember a lot about being a pony.”
That makes me curious. “What would you say the payoff is then?”
His smile is gentle. “I feel relaxed.”
I make up my mind right then: I’m not saying a word to him. He doesn’t need to know. But I wish there was someone in this neighborhood that I could tell, someone who would understand. But right off hand, I don’t know who that would be.
7
Gloria
Oh, lordy. This is serious. I don’t know who to talk to, but I’ve got to figure out someone to tell about this. Even though her husband accused me of something awful, Reverend Cheryl seems like the right person. I know she’ll want to know about this.
I decide to wait until Monday, with Sunday being a day of rest and all. I go over to the church and there’s her car, but his car is there too. I really don’t want to run into Reverend Samuel, not after that incident. Nope. Fortunately, I only have to wait about fifteen minutes and he comes out, climbs into his car, and leaves. Good. She’s there alone.
The door makes a loud creaking sound when I open it and I hear a feminine voice call out, “Hello! Who’s there?”
“Reverend Cheryl?”
“Yes!”
“It’s Gloria. Gloria Livingston.”
At first I think she didn’t hear me because she doesn’t answer, and then finally she says, “Gloria! Come on up.” I take the stairs slowly and, when I get to the top, I turn to the left to go to the office. She’s standing by the desk in the reception area―we haven’t been able to afford a secretary for two years, so it’s empty―and she smiles and extends her hand. “How are you?”
I take it and shake it. “I’m fine, thanks. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you! Now, what can I do for you?”
“Do you have a few minutes?”
She looks sort of like she wants to say no, but then she blurts out, “Sure! Come on in and have a seat.” I choose the red leather chair in front of the desk, and she surprises me by pulling up its mate and sitting down beside me instead of behind the desk. “What’s on your mind?” she asks as soon as we’re both comfortable.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know about something I saw.”
Her face is kind of blank when she asks, “Oh? And what would that be?”
“Well, I was walking down the alley―”
“The alley?” she interrupts. “What alley? Which alley?”
“The one between Harper’s Cove and Grand Avenue.”
“Aha. Go on.”
I wiggle to get a little more comfortable in my chair. “So, like I said, I was walking down the alley between Harper’s Cove and Grand Avenue yesterday, just minding my own business, and I heard something odd.”
“What kind of odd something?”
“Oh, just something that didn’t sound quite right.”
“What didn’t sound right about it?”
Good grief, she’s irritating. I’m trying to figure out what to say. “Well, sort of like, I don’t know,” I say, fumbling around, until I finally blurt out, “livestock.”
She screws her face up and her brow wrinkles. “Livestock? What do you mean, livestock? You mean like cattle lowing or sheep bleating?”
“No. Like horses neighing.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and she shakes her head. “Horses? Horses aren’t allowed in the city.”
“I know! So I wanted to see what was going on. It was coming from a backyard on Harper’s Cove, so I just climbed up on the blocks and―”
“Wait. Why did you climb up on block
s?”
“Because it was the only way I could see over the fence.”
Now her eyes get huge. “You climbed up and spied over someone’s fence?”
What? Spying? Now she’s accusing me of spying? Of all the nerve! “No! I wasn’t spying! I wanted to make sure no one was breaking the law! Because having a horse in a backyard would be illegal, wouldn’t it?”
Now she’s giving me the evil eye and I don’t like that. “Did it sound like a real horse?”
I just chuckle. “Well, how would I know? I don’t have one.”
She shakes her head again. “So you looked over someone’s privacy fence.”
“Don’t you want to know what I saw?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Do I?”
“I saw those new people! You know, that Fields woman and the Hogan guy. And he was wearing some kind of weird horse-looking mask and these tight little shorts. And she was holding these ropes coming from the mask. And they’ve built a barn in their yard―a barn. Those people are up to no good! I knew it from the first minute I saw them.” Getting all that off my chest makes me feel better.
But what she says blows me away. “You do know that what you saw was none of your business, don’t you?”
Now’s she’s ticking me off. “It is my business! That’s my neighborhood! If there are weirdos there, I need to know―we all need to know! We’ve got to protect ourselves from people like that!”
“Because they’re going to do what? Break into your house? Steal your car?”
I throw my hands up in disgust. “We don’t know what they’re capable of! Could be anything.”
“Or it could be nothing at all,” she offers.
“But―”
“Or you could’ve just imagined it.”
Now I’m rip-roaring mad. How DARE she? “Reverend Cheryl, I assure you that I―”
“Saw something over someone else’s fence that was none of your business, something that you may have misunderstood or, worse yet, imagined.”
Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper's Cove Page 6
