Stripped Down (14 page)

It had been painful to watch Jo struggle for her first few weeks on the job. Occasionally someone else would step in to help her, but she refused all offers. She volunteered to come in early and always managed to hang around late, and we all stopped offering to help her. By late spring the whole stable got busy, with new people always dropping by, new horses to
be boarded, new kids wanting to learn to ride, and I stopped looking out for Jo. She was handling the job. She was getting stronger and I didn't need to worry about her anymore. Then one day about five months after she first started working for me, Jo showed up in a tank top and shorts, and suddenly she caught my eye. The round belly was gone. Her arms were tanned. And good lord, the girl had calf muscles! Jo was working much harder and much faster than any of the other stable hands now, and she'd grown tan and fit.

Now she was standing in front of me holding a brown paper bag.

“I brought you some dinner,” she grinned, pulling out and handing me a container of potato salad and some cheese.

“Thanks, but you didn't have to do that. How come you're still hanging around, anyway?' I asked, popping open a lid and reaching in the bag for a plastic fork.

She looked at the floor. “I wanted to talk to you alone about a couple of things.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yeah, that Zangri kid. She's gonna ruin Blaze's mouth the way she jerks that bit around. Somebody has to talk to her. She won't listen to me.”

The Zangri kid was really no kid. Katie must have been in her late twenties, not much younger than Jo, but she did have a heavy hand with Blaze and this was not the first time someone had noticed it. “I'll catch her the next time she comes in and have a word with her. She knows better.”

“Thanks,” Jo murmured, kicking a bit of hay around with her toe.

“Something else?” I asked around a mouthful of potato salad. The silence stretched out.

“No, not really. Well. Maybe.” Jo looked away again.

I swallowed, my fork hanging in midair, thinking this must be serious for Jo to hold back.

“Um. Well. Yeah, right.”

“What is it, Jo?” The last bite of the salad disappeared.

“I've also noticed you watching me.” She still wouldn't look in my direction and so I never saw it coming.

“Yes, I have, and you are doing a great job. I've gotten no complaints about your work.”

Jo turned, her dark eyes staring down directly into my own. “No. That's not what I meant. You've been
watching
me.”

I blushed because I couldn't deny it, and she knew that. I swallowed hard, not sure of what to do or say next. Should I apologize? Or what?

Jo leaned down and kissed me full on the lips. What could I do? I kissed her back. I had been wanting to do that for weeks now, anyway. Her tongue pushed between my teeth and from somewhere deep inside of me came a moan, full of want and need. I tried to set the empty container down on the edge of the bale and missed, knocking my coffee over in the process. Her fingers, strong and rough, caressed my cheek and slid down to the back of my neck to hold me close against her. Her lips were cool and insistent as she kissed her way down my neck, leaving a trail of moist places along my skin—and producing an even wetter place between my legs.

I gently pushed her away from me so I could stand up. Jo took a step back and looked away again. “Sorry,” she said, seeming suddenly embarrassed.

“Don't be.” I picked up her hand and, after kissing her palm, walked toward the tack room pulling her along. Once inside, I locked the door behind us. I turned and faced her, feeling
brave and wanting her terribly. Turning her around to face the door, I pushed her up against it, holding her there while my tongue followed the line of her jaw and then continued down her neck. My teeth pressed into that tanned shoulder, biting hard until she let out a cry of pain and surprise. I stopped only long enough to lift her tank top over her head and use the material to loosely bind her arms behind her. My breath coming faster now, I leaned in and asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Jo panted. “I want it hard.”

My thumbs pressed roughly into the flesh on her back, squeezing and pinching, and then sliding around to pull on her nipples through her silky bra. “I want this off,” I said, unclasping the hook in front, pulling the pink lacy thing down to further bind her arms. My hands slid over her smooth sides, moved around to her belly and cupped her breasts, then held her nipples tightly between my forefingers and thumbs. Rolling my fingers together to pinch and twist Jo's large hard nipples made her squirm quietly. I pinched harder and she cried out. “What shall I do with you?” I murmured in her ear just before my teeth clamped down on her earlobe.

“Anything, please, something. Whatever you want. Please!”

I stepped back, taking hold of the waistband of her shorts, and pulled them down, panties and all. She stepped out of them. Her asscheeks, high and round, were white compared to her tanned legs. Using my fingers to follow the crack of her ass, I slipped my hand between her legs and found Jo to be wanting this as much as I did. Her lips were wet and swollen and her clit was a hard pebble under my finger.

“Yes,” she whispered, as I used my boot to slide her legs apart. Jo leaned her cheek on the door and pushed her ass out toward me. I squatted on my haunches, running my hands
down one leg to the top of her heavy boot and back up the other side. Her ass stuck out in my face, and I breathed deep the scent of her excitement. With one hand on her thigh and the other holding on to her hip, I took a mouthful of cheek and bit down gently. Jo pulled her ass back in far enough to press her stomach to the door.

“Now Jo,” I said sternly as I stood up again, “are you going to pull away every time it hurts a little?” Her ass moved backward again and I smiled. My hands, rough with a lifetime of calluses, traced her arms up to her shoulders. I turned her to face me, and her hard nipples puckered when I took each in my mouth, my tongue flicking over and over. Jo's eyes closed as she leaned awkwardly on the door, her arms still bound behind her. She whispered something too quietly for me to hear. I stopped my gentle sucking and stood to look in her eyes, now open and pleading.

“What did you say?”

Jo's eyes closed again, and in a tiny voice she said, “I want you to hurt me. I know you know how.”

I wondered how she could possibly know, but that didn't stop me from walking her to a clear space on my workbench and bending her over it. I removed the tank and bra and she moved her arms, muscles rippling, to rest on the bench over her head. Gathering up the bridle laying there, I draped the strips of leather over her lower back, holding the bit in my hand. My other hand rested on her shoulder. “Are you ready for me?”

Jo laughed, “I've been ready and waiting for weeks.”

I set the bit down on the small of her back, the reins hanging to one side and puddling on the floor at her feet.

“Don't let that fall off,” I whispered. Scanning the bench,
my eyes rested on nothing but possibilities. Bits of leather, pliers, a hoof pick left here for no apparent reason, a rubber curry comb with the handle missing, and yes, there was exactly what I needed. An old cotton cinch, starting to fray, colored by years of horse sweat and rain and who knows what else, gave my own pussy a jolt. The whole piece was maybe thirty-six inches long, with a round metal ring on either end. I doubled the cinch up, threading my fingers through both rings, feeling the heft of it. Not heavy at all, but certainly capable of providing a little stinging sensation when slapped against the tender, exposed, white ass before me.

Jo stood very still, her ass waiting for whatever I wanted. I gently tapped the folded cinch on her cheeks, moving from side to side, gradually striking a little harder, ending with a solid
whack!
She jumped and cried out, almost losing the bit balanced on her back. Changing my angle, I swung back and forth, hitting close to but not directly on her pussy, not wanting to mingle her juices with those of a multitude of horses. Stopping long enough to slip my fingers between her thighs, I pushed my knuckles up into her, feeling the heat and wet of her desire. My only goal was to tease her, I wasn't ready for this to end quite yet. Pulling my hand back out, I laid the cinch across her back. With my dry hand I squeezed her right cheek, pressing my fingernails deep and creating half-moons, while the hand moist with her juices slapped down hard on her left.

“More!” Jo gasped.

I left the cinch where it was and started spanking her in earnest, blow after blow, her ass getting hotter and redder with each slap. The bit was dangerously close to falling off, the reins slithering across her back as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. The air was filled with the scent of her excitement,
and my own cunt had soaked the crotch of my dusty jeans. I didn't want to wait any longer, I wanted to hear her come and scream for me.

I pushed a finger deep inside her cunt, feeling the heat and wet. Pulling it out, I plunged it deep in her ass. She moaned loudly, and pushed hard against my hand as the halter slid the rest of the way to the floor. My other hand found her unfilled hole, opened wide, hot, wet, and ready for me. Jo's cunt absorbed two of my fingers without even trying, and I quickly added a third. Pumping hard into her, I alternated hands, almost coming out of her ass, while pushing hard in her other hole. In and out. Slurp and smack. Slurp and smack. Slurp and smack. Moving faster, harder, pressing in, pulling out, the knuckle of my little finger hitting her clit with each thrust.

“Come on, Jo, come for me. I want to hear it,” I panted as I pounded both her ass and her cunt.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” she chanted breathlessly, matching her rhythm to my own.

My hands moved faster, pressing in, sliding out, and shoving her body hard up against the workbench with each thrust. Jo's cries got louder and more insistent with each pounding against her sex and her beautiful ass. The feel of her clit growing larger and harder against my hand flamed my own excitement. I wanted to hear her now. Pulling my finger out of her ass, I slapped my hand down hard on her cheeks, moving from one to the other, while still pumping in her cunt with the other, when suddenly her pussy clenched down hard, trapping my fingers inside her. Jo let out a loud scream, and hot, wet juices flowed over my hand as she came. Wave after wave of tightness ground my fingers together until I was sure they would break in two. And suddenly, Jo was sinking down, her
knees finally giving out, unable to hold her up because they trembled so. I caught her as she went, and lowered her to a pile of big clean saddle blankets. Settling in next to her, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her safe while she rested and tried to regain her composure.

 

“Don't you want to know how I knew you could do that?” Jo asked, looking up at me from the crook of my arm.

I looked down at her, a little confused at first, not understanding what she meant. Jo looked away, unsure how I would take this news. “I needed a job, and one night when I was driving by here late, I saw a light on. I figured no one but the boss would be working so late, so I pulled in and walked through the barn toward the back where the light was on. I figured if the boss was working that late, he must need help; then I heard two women's voices. I quickly realized what I was hearing was not really conversation, but something hotter. I couldn't help myself; I sat down and listened until I thought you were almost through. And then I left, not wanting to get caught. Later, when I came back during daylight hours to ask about work, I had trouble not blurting out anything about what I had heard. I recognized your voice right away, and I was so afraid you would know something was up, but I needed to hear that voice every day. And now here I am.”

I smiled at her, not believing my luck. “And here I am, too. Do you have other secrets I should know about?” I didn't wait for her answer. I kissed her, my tongue slipping into her mouth, my fingers sliding down her body, reaching for more. Reaching for her.

THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS

Tara Alton

 

 

 

 

My grandfather had always taught me not to dwell on things that I couldn't change but I was having a truly hard time following his advice after Marissa left me. Six months ago, she had returned to France to be with her ex-lover, with whom she had opened a cheese shop in a suburb of Paris. I had thought our love of cheese was something shared only between the two of us, but apparently not. Our favorite Sunday ritual had been to sleep in, then venture out to Zingerman's deli around noon and find a new cheese to take home and nibble in bed while reading the Sunday paper. Now Marissa was sharing cheese and living life to the fullest with someone else in France.

As for me, I was hardly living my life at all, choosing sofa diving on the weekends instead
of going to my yoga lessons or pottery classes. I barely had the energy to get myself together to come to my grandmother's annual spring house party.

As I sat in my car in the driveway, I pondered over her beautiful two-story house with its sloping roof and massive back porch. How much had changed since my grandfather's funeral two years before? That was the last time I had come here. Knowing my grandmother, it probably hadn't changed much at all. She already had it decorated into country house heaven, making it look more like the photo spread in a magazine than a home.

Glancing at my watch, I realized I couldn't stall any longer. I was already late. The moment my shoe touched the porch, my grandmother appeared at the front door and came outside to greet me. With her matronly figure, she was one of those women you could call handsome. Of course, she was wearing her fake company smile.