On the pretense of asking me some inane question, Steve took me aside and said, “C’mon, guv—Pash rhymes with cash. Don’t make me look bad in front of a new student!” So I agreed. I needed to find out straight away what she knew about horses, to figure out where to start. Turns out she rode a pony once upon a time. That summed up her total direct exposure.
I knew I had my work cut out for me, but reminded myself that she could be that gangly teenager coming at me with the same story. Perhaps this totty might be inclined to ride more than a horse!
To see how she responded to the animals, I walked her around the stable. She seemed a little jumpy, but I supposed that would pass soon enough. I picked Nutmeg to get her started. Nutmeg has the disposition of a kitten, quietest damn mare I’ve ever seen. She is on the large side, being a retired farm horse. Steve keeps her around because she is gentle and even-tempered with children.
She is a good old girl. I like to make sure she is seen earning her keep. When I took Nutmeg out of the stall, I noticed the color drain from Pash’s face. I tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, my dear, Nutmeg is a sweetheart. She won’t give you any grief.”
Before I could finish my pep talk, Pash stepped right in front of the horse. Nutmeg must have thought Pash had a treat for her, because she raised her head, blew some air out of her nose and opened her mouth. The next thing I knew, Pash jumped a couple meters off to the side, stumbled on an uneven part of the floor and fell right on the spot where I had just hosed off a horse.
Christ, I looked down and saw the new student Steve wanted to impress kneeling in water thick with mud. That’s not all I saw. She had her arse in the air, down on all fours. Bloody hell, she looked like she wanted a good seeing-to!
“Please, allow me.” Bending over her to help her up, I fought the urge to join her in the mud and have it doggy fashion.
I put my arm around her to help her stand up, brushing her breasts as I did so. To prolong keeping hold of her, I asked, “Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“I’m quite all right, thank you. I just need a bath.”
“Well, that’s better that a slap in the face with a wet kipper,” I said, trying to make her laugh. She barely managed a feeble smile.
It felt damn good having a woman against me again. I didn’t want to let her go. So, I continued holding her while scraping the drain with my boot to clear it. “I should have seen to this clog earlier. It never occurred to me I would have company in here today.”
Then I held her at arm’s length to survey the damage. “You are a mucky pup, all right.” She had mud, hay and horse hair covering her legs. Somehow I had to clean her up.
The only thing I could think to do was to hose her off, the way I did the horses. She had on jeans and sneakers, so it wouldn’t hurt anything. “Now let me clean you off.” I picked up the hose. “You will be wet, but at least you will be clean.”
“I suppose I have to. I can’t get in my car like this.” Seeing as how she didn’t have much choice, she agreed.
“This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.” Turning the hose to a gentler spray than I used for the horses, I washed her off. Straight away, I got myself a hard-on. When she fell, her tight jeans gave her a camel’s hoof, clearly outlining her privy parts. I made sure I hosed her thoroughly. “Spread your feet apart so I can clean your legs properly.” What better way to get a good long look at her bits!
I finished my lesson soaking wet from the waist down. How absolutely humiliating! After Ivan hosed the mud off me, he turned the hose on himself to wash off his own legs. I couldn’t help noticing he had quite a package, which seemed to have grown since I arrived. When he brushed some hay from my shirt, his hand grazed my breasts. My nipples turned into pebbles.
Once he made sure he had properly cleaned me up, Ivan wanted me to get right on Nutmeg, saying, “It is best to get comfortable mounting during the first lesson.”
My nerve completely left me. “Couldn’t we wait for a bit? I’ve never been around horses before and would like to get used to them first.” It’s the only excuse I could think of for not mounting as he asked.
Ivan seemed a little perplexed. He took a quick look around the stable before he said, “All right, then, let’s go over the gear first.” I made a halfhearted attempt to listen when he explained the parts of a saddle as he put it on Nutmeg’s back. “Always from the left side,” he said. “Our horses are trained to be handled from the left.”
Then he showed me how to bridle a horse. I cringed when he put the bit in Nutmeg’s mouth, wondering how the horse could stand that chunk of metal across its tongue. “This is an eggbutt snaffle. It doesn’t hurt her at all.” I didn’t believe it!
After he had Nutmeg ready, he demonstrated the proper way to mount a horse by climbing on her himself. “See how easy it is! There’s nothing to it.” He looked magnificent sitting on that big horse, like I had always imagined my Highwayman would look.
I could see the outline of his thigh through his wet jeans. My eyes followed his leg up to his crotch. Realizing how utterly unseemly staring at his bulge would appear, I made myself look away.
He dismounted and again encouraged me to try it. “Why don’t you give it a go? I’ll help you up.”
I politely declined. “No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough for one day.”
“Well, next time we’ll practice mounting.”
I wondered why in heaven’s name I had wanted to do this in the first place.
Chapter Two
After the debacle of my first lesson, I nearly decided to abandon this horse insanity and cancel my lessons. I humbly realized I might have romanticized the whole riding business. The reality seemed to fall far short of what I imagined. But I could not stop thinking about Ivan, about how he moved hefting that hay into the stall or how he looked sitting on Nutmeg or how patient he had been with my pratfall.
Then, a few days before my next appointment, something happened that guaranteed I would not change my mind. I dreamed about Ivan, an erotic dream—a real humdinger, too. I decided to return for the second lesson only because I wanted to see him again. I really didn’t think I had it in me to learn to ride, but because I knew no other way to see him, I thought I would try.
In the dream, I came into the stable like I did the first day. Ivan had his shirt off as he lifted bales of hay. I watched him take the hay into an empty stall, marveling at the exquisite masculine beauty of his body. The sweat made his skin shine, the muscles in his arms and back bulging with the weight of the bales.
I had the impulse to touch myself while I watched him, but he turned around before I could stroke myself. When he saw me, he simply said, “It’s time to start your lesson.” He didn’t leave the empty stall, but motioned for me to join him there.
Walking into the stall, I tripped. I fell into the mud, except this time I fell on my arse instead of my knees. He picked up the hose and sprayed me, the water pulsing between my legs. As the water sprayed harder and harder, my knees became weak. He caught me, pressing his chest up against my breasts as he held me. Suddenly I felt very confused. I couldn’t remember why I had come there or why I felt so aroused. I asked him, “I don’t know you. Are you my Highwayman?”
“You don’t need your Highwayman anymore. You have me.”
“Who are you?” I felt afraid. The fear only seemed to feed my arousal. My need to touch him threatened to consume me.
“I am your teacher. I will show you what you came here to learn.” He took a blanket and spread it over some hay in the empty stall. He said, “Come, lay beside me.” I went to him and lay down on