Horse Play

Vanessa had returned from finishing school in grand style. Father had showered her with gifts and treated her to a lovely weekend in the city. The only detail left was her coming out party, which Mother had been planning forever-or at least it seemed that way. She had been hearing about Mother's coming out party since she was a child. Positively EVERYONE agreed that Victoria Barnaby had had the grandest affair they had ever seen. Even the servants reflected on it fondly in their memories, even though it was they who did all the real labor that fed and entertained half the county. Bessie, with skin the color of ebony, would never tire of speaking of "Yo' Momma's Ball" as she brushed Vanessa's long strawberry locks before bedtime.

But that was nearly a generation ago. Now it was Vanessa's time and Mother assured her that this party would make hers look like a "square dance." (With all her charm, Mother could be positively brutish in her descriptions, at times).

Vanessa's looks would draw half of the state's eligible bachelors out of the woodwork. Daddy's money would bring the other half out. Like so many children of the extreme upper class, Vanessa was spoiled and virtually oblivious to the thought of living in any style other than the one she was accustomed. Servants, slaves and the lower class existed to meet her needs-and the needs of her family and friends. And, that was that!

She stood admiring herself in front of her oversized, full -length mirror in her new ball gown. Mother had ordered it directly from Paris, along with matching shoes! It was a grand, dazzling white gown, trimmed in lace and pearls. She turned to the right then forward and back to the left, taking stock of her own beauty and the way the gown so wonderfully accented it. She bent slightly forward to see how her breasts would look to a taller man. She fussed, debated and experimented with her long, lush, strawberry locks. "Hmmm, should I wear it up or down, oh, it really doesn't matter," she laughed to herself. "In this gown, who would ever notice her hair?" None the less, she would have it primped and perfect for her coming out. The diamond necklace Daddy had given her upon her return was the perfect finishing touch. Everything was in perfect order.

A gentle knock on the door roused her from her reflected daydreams of self-admiration. From the hallway, Janey, the young Negro wench who was in training as a chambermaid reminded her that it was nearly time for her morning ride. Oh, all right! She exclaimed in a spoiled whine. I'll be along! Now, go AWAY! Why did she even have to bother with a morning ride, anyway? There was just so much to do. And this was such fun! Oh well. She hadn't really had any real exercise in nearly a week. It was a crisp morning. Perhaps a ride would be a nice diversion. Besides, she'd been hearing all week about the new stableman. This would give her a chance to dress him down. "How in the world could anyone see ANYTHING in a man who shovels horse excrement?" The very idea made her skin crawl. Still, all her old friends who had come to visit since she'd come home had raved about him. Even prim and proper little Janine had made nearly sexual intonations about this-this "groomer." It was disgusting! A good dressing down should do him a world of good. And who better to give it than the plantation princess. (God, how she loved that nickname. It always made her smile).

Vanessa rarely hurried. But, she reasoned that if she got to the stables before the horse was prepared for her, it would be reason enough to put the "human stud" in his place. Had she attended such pedestrian events as local fairs, she would most likely win a blue ribbon in the "dressing down" category-if they had one, that is. Whatever or whomever she found at the stable was in for a big surprise. She smiled an evil smile to herself as she called for Janey to retrieve her riding clothes and properly store her new gown. Janey obediently scurried about in Vanessa's bedroom suite to assist her. Even though she was ready in near-record time, Vanessa couldn't help but to take a few warm-up swings with the young black servant.

Janey? Janey! Come here this instant!

Janey hurried from the closet, which was actually bigger than the whole cottage she shared with her mother and two sisters.

"Yes ma'am?" she asked, her eyes to the floor to avert the gaze of those evil turquoise eyes.

Vanessa spoke to the woman as though she was a child-even though she was actually only a year younger than she was. "Now Janey, just look at these boots! Did you shine these boots?"

"Yes Mizz Vanezza. I surely did!" Janey could actually see her reflection in the boots as Vanessa extended them out in front of her.

"I don't believe you did, Janey. I believe you forgot to shine my boots. And, furthermore, I believe you are standing here in my father's house lying to me. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Yez, Mizz Vanezza," was her only response. Janey had been warned to NEVER dispute Vanessa ON ANYTHING.

"It's too late to do them over. But when I return this morning, I want you to shine them. And, it had better be done correctly. Do you understand me?"

"Yez, ma'am," she replied

"Good! Now help me put these filthy things on so I won't be late for my ride." Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed with her feet planted firmly on the floor. Try as she might, Janey could not easily lift the woman's feet and wrestle with the knee-high boots to get them on properly. Vanessa smiled to herself and she watched the girl struggle to 'help' her.

"Hurry up!" she goaded. Finally, with sweat trickling from her brow, Janey finished the task and stood obediently to wait the next command. Vanessa stood and walked in a slow circle around Janey. Janey stood rock-still hoping Vanessa would just leave the room. She didn't see her pick up the leather riding crop from the dressing table. The stinging pain of the riding crop lashing her backside was sudden and excruciating. She dared not move or cry out. That could mean her whole family losing their home. Instead, she stood there whimpering silently, as the leather weapon struck her bottom and upper legs a second and third time. She remained silent, but the involuntary tears streamed down her face as Vanessa offered her a word of advice.

"Don't ever lie to me again, Janey. Do you understand?"

"Yyyyezz, ma'am," was all she could force out her mouth as the searing heat spread over her lower body.

"Good," Vanessa nearly sang, "then we shall get along swimmingly. I have to go now. But, you be a good, good girl and have this room in shape when I get back from my ride, won't you? Oh, and turn down my bed. I think I'd like to take a nap this afternoon."

She didn't wait for a reply. She knew she would find everything in perfect order when she got back. The little nigger really was quite efficient. And after all, she had done a wonderful job on the boots. Vanessa turned quickly, her long blonde hair flipped neatly over her shoulder and she strode out of the room. When the sound of the boots was out of earshot, Janey fell to the floor and sobbed as quietly as she could, being careful not to let her tears fall onto the gleaming oak floor of the bedroom.

Vanessa lingered at the top of the stairs to admire her shape in the hall mirror. Her riding uniform fit snugly and accentuated her physical features. She turned her back to the mirror and stretched her neck to admire her buttocks. With a final adjustment on her riding cap, she turned and bounded down the stairs. She met her father in the kitchen and hugged him around the neck from behind as she greeted him in her cutesy, little girl voice.

"Good morning Daddy. Did you sleep well?"

"Oh yes, princess. Knowing my little girl was home to stay was enough to make me sleep like a baby. You're going riding?" he asked with great interest.

"Yes, Daddy. After all, I don't want to get fat," she replied. "A girl's got to stay in shape, you know."

"Yes dear, of course you do!" he said in a very serious tone. "Your mother never left herself go. So many wives do, but Mother is every bit as beautiful as the day we married. You'll be the same way. It's all from good breeding, you know."

"Yes, Daddy. I know. I love you Daddy."

They exchanged another hug and Vanessa strode out the door where a carriage and driver were waiting patiently for her. Vanessa still felt satiated from the scene with Janey. She could skip berating Luke. He had been driving the plantation's carriages for as long as she could remember. Time had not been his best friend over the years. His black skin was dry and cracked from decades of exposure to the Georgia sun. His gray beard looked like sparse, dead tumbleweeds strewn about his face and his hands trembled nearly uncontrollably as he gripped the reigns of the carriage. She could remember a time when she had treated him decently-with kindness, even. But once she'd figured out their stations in life, there just wasn't time for that sort of thing anymore. She was pondering the innocence and naivete of youth as they rounded the corner to the horse barn. She released the memory quickly as she steeled herself for the confrontation she was about to instigate.

Her adrenaline was coursing through her heart and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears as she dismounted the carriage with Luke's feigned attempt at helping her down. She didn't bother to thank him. Why should she? He and his family would get a hot meal today. That was thanks enough. She excused him and he turned the wagon around in a wide arc and clicked his tongue to urge the horses back around the corner of the road from which they came.

As she marched toward the barn, Vanessa couldn't decide what she was looking forward to the most. Getting a look at this new man-beast, giving him the inevitable tongue lashing or bragging about it to her friends. Well, no matter! She would get to savor and enjoy all of it. She could always decide later which had been the most enjoyable.

When she got to the door of the stable, she stopped and peeked around the corner to see if she could spot him. "Oh no," she thought. "I don't even know what his name is yet" Not that it mattered. When she called, he would come. He was, after all, no better than the other animals grazing the grounds. She started to smile at her own wit when she saw him. The sight of him caused a lump to form in her throat that made it difficult to take a breath. Man, woman, child or beast, he was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.

His dark hair was "brutishly" long, dark and shiny as coal. It hung and swayed gently as he moved through his morning routine in the stable. It was a sticky-hot morning and his white cotton shirt was already soaked with sweat. Vanessa could actually see the definition of his muscular back through his shirt. The veins looked as if they would burst out of his muscular arms and his waist was likely the same size as hers! He was a sight!

She could feel the nervous perspiration pooling in the pits of her arms. Thankfully, her riding jacket would hide the sight-and the scent of her anxiety. Vanessa stood, hidden from his view in one of the empty stalls. She had been watching him for nearly ten minutes when she realized that she was "pooling" in a more private place, as well. She actually felt her breaths grow shallow and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. He face was flushed-she could feel that, too. She was stunned when, without warning and without even turning around, he greeted her.

"Good morning. You must be Miss Vanessa."

She thought for a moment that she had imagined it. Her palms went cold and she could feel the blood rush to her face. When he turned to face her, she knew that her mind had not been playing tricks on her. He had known she was there-watching him! She tried desperately to keep the advantage and put HIM on guard.

"How did you know I was here?" she challenged.

He walked slowly toward her. He actually seemed to grow taller with each step. The manly aroma of honest, hard work caught in her nostrils and sent her heart pounding, anew.

"Most of the people who come to the stables don't smell of rose water." He said it as simply as if he were giving her the time of day.

"So, you were spying on me!" Vanessa was getting desperate.

He virtually drilled through her with his eyes, the way her father's wells pushed through virgin earth seeking oil. "Excuse me. But, it wasn't I who was hiding in a horse stall. Unless I'm mistaken, that was you. Was it not?" His voice was deep and even and his gaze never strayed from her. He walked the twenty-odd feet to her and now stood nearly directly in front of her.

Now she was completely frustrated. She had lost the advantage and it didn't seem that she could bully it back. Her first recourse was one of instinct.

"You keep a civil tongue in your head or you'll be looking for work in another county!" The same threat that had worked so well so many times in the past seemed to have no effect on this man, whatever. He slowly, deliberately leaned forward, directly toward her bosom! She jumped back just a half step to avoid physical contact and, embarrassed, watched him retrieve a tin ladle from the rain barrel she had been standing beside. He drew a ladle full of water and poured it into his mouth. Some of the water spilled onto the front of his shirt, but he made no effort to wipe it off. He then offered her the ladle.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear what I said? With one word from me, my father will send you packing. His influence stretches a long way, you know?"

"Does it, indeed?" His response was so casual that it took her by surprise. "Well, I guess I should just start packing my bags now."

All her leverage was gone. He was actually going to LEAVE? This had been too easy.

"…If that is truly what you want, that is." He smiled a deep, soulful smile at her. He was playing with her! PLAYING WITH HER! She was not accustomed to being treated like this. And she didn't like it!

Vanessa scrambled again to regain the upper hand. "I'll give you another chance. You just keep a civil tongue in your head and bring me my horse."

He threw his head back and laughed. Then with feigned formality he bowed low. "Yes, Miss Vanessa. I shall bring forth your mount directly!" He turned on his heels and strode toward Buttercup's stall. Buttercup had been a 15th Birthday gift and was a prize-winning Arabian. The name didn't really fit, since Buttercup was as black as night, but Vanessa had dreamed of having a horse named "Buttercup" since she was a small child. So, quite simply, that was the only name the horse could have.

Buttercup was lead gently from his stall. The horse actually gleamed! It had been a long time since she had ridden him. She was actually looking forward to it so much that she decided she could bide her time with the stable beast. Attractive as he was-physically-he was still just that, a beast who shoveled animal waste.

"My, my! You've managed to smile without breaking your pretty face." He laughed out loud at his own joke, as she spontaneously balled her fists in frustration. Before she could respond, he'd passed by her and led the horse out into the sunshine.

Buttercup was already saddled and bridled. He had actually fitted the horse with her favorite blanket and saddle. She couldn't even complain about that. She clumsily followed them out of the barn and reached for the saddle horn when she felt his hands on her backside. She attempted to protest, but his strength propelled her into the saddle with one great push. Regardless, her eyes were as big as turquoise moons when she faced him from her mount.

"How dare you!" she nearly screamed.

His response was a huge, toothy grin and, without a word, he struck Buttercup's backside and the horse responded with a dead run toward the riding trail. The sudden take-off startled-and further angered her. He hadn't even given her a change to reprimand him for his boldness and lack of respect. She was ready and willing to completely loose her religion on this-this "thug." But he'd pulled the rug out from under her with one quick slap to Buttercup's rump.

"Damn him!" she thought. "Damn that…" then she realized that she hadn't even learned his name. She had truly lost the upper hand. "How in the world did that happen?" she wondered.

Her troubles were diminished with the pounding of Buttercup's hooves. Each step was sheer poetry as she found the rhythm of the fine beast and became one with the horse. She had slowed him from his run and was now in a steady gallop along the 14-mile riding trail that was as familiar to her as the bedroom in her home. It HAD been a long time since she'd ridden. But things that you love always come back quickly-and she DID love to ride.

As the pressure of the saddle pressed against her, she struggled to find the perfect pace to set loose the butterflies in her pelvis. She had started riding when she was very young. But around the age of 13 (or was it 14?) she had found the real thrill of the sport! Of course the discovery had come as an accident. A happy accident, to be sure! But, an accident, nonetheless. As she often did, she regressed to that day of her youth and relived it through the ride. She had sat a little to far forward in the saddle and the shiny leather horn had found it's way to that special place between her legs. She found that she could vary the pressure and sensation by gripping the horse with her thighs, just as she was doing now.

The real trick was getting all the pieces of the intricate puzzle in place. The correct position on the saddle; The gentle pressure of her thighs and the perfect speed through the trails all contributed to the release that had made riding the PERFECT past time. Nothing could interrupt or interfere with her pleasure-NOTHING!

Just as that thought had occurred to her, Buttercup reared back and let out a tremendous whine. The sudden stop threw Vanessa forward, up and off the saddle. When she tried to right herself, her foot caught sideways in the stirrup and twisted painfully inward. The horse spun in a quick circle and threw her violently from her mount. She landed in a pile on the dusty trail already feeling the searing pain in her ankle and knee. Buttercup finally came to rest 20 yards back up the trail. Vanessa was staring straight into the eyes of the 7-foot timber rattlesnake that had spooked her horse. It was no more than a foot in front of her, coiled and poised to strike. Fear's grip was inescapable and she was paralyzed with terror. The snake's tongue whipped from its mouth just inches from her face. She knew the best thing was to stay rock-still, but she also knew that the dangerous snake had already caught her sent. Its rattles were buzzing at a fever pitch, adding to her anxiety. Suddenly, in a blur, the snake disappeared from in front of her! It was there, ready to strike.

And then it was gone! She looked up at the silhouette of the stable-hand as he wrenched the head and the body of the rattler in opposite directions, killing it instantly. He slung the dead snake over his back and grinned down at her with that evil grin. "They taste just like chicken," he said, as he extended a hand to her to help her up.

"I don't think I can get up," she said. But she took his hand, anyway. As she tried to rise, she found she'd been right. Her leg would not support her wait. When she released his hand, she dropped heavily back to the ground with a thud.

"Well, I guess we have no choice," he said matter-of-factly. He lowered himself to one knee and scooped her up into his arms as effortlessly as if he were picking up a tiny baby. He cradled her against his chest and started walking back toward the barn. Buttercup was long gone-headed back to her stall and a fresh bag of oats. Horses conveniently forget unpleasant events very quickly.