Honey Hollow Swimming Hole

Within a half hour, though, I saw it again. I decided to stop by Collins's orchard to check my work schedule before going home, and I was about to pull into the farm road when I saw that big black Dodge Ram again in the farm yard. I could make out Lance sitting in the driver's seat and there was Sydney Collins leaning up against the window, looking up into the cab and smiling and laughing at something he was discussing with Lance. I pulled my truck up to the side of the road, where the branches of the trees blocked me from the view of the farm yard but where I could get a good look at what was going on there.

I saw Collins transfer a thick envelope to Lance's hands, those hands that only recently were unlocking my virginity and touching me in my most intimate recesses. Collins stood back, and Lance got out of the cab of his truck and the two slowly walked toward the pasture, toward where the new, black mare twitched and skitted about, waiting for someone to break her in to be ridden by Sydney Collins.

I could clearly read the logo on Lance's truck now. It said "Lance Stevens, Horse Handler."

I got back into my Toyota pickup and started toward home. No use crying over what was lost. I somehow knew I was moving in this direction anyway. I just needed someone to break me in right, to get me past the skittish phase. I knew now that the next time Collins asked me up to his house, I would go with him. And that this wasn't my last visit to the Honey Hollow swimming hole, either.