KC and the Moonshine Band

KC and the Moonshine Band

One

When I married Todd, I thought it would be for life. I was right in that respect, but the timescale was just a little shorter than I expected. For a while it was all sweetness and light but by the time he overdosed on a lethal mix of amphetamines, coke and Tennessee sour mash just shy of our fifth anniversary, I was almost past caring.

We met when he joined the Investment Bank I worked for in London. He was on a secondment from their headquarters in Chicago. We lived the dream -- young, wealthy and, although I say it myself, beautiful. We made money with a practised ease and spent it like water. Our Thameside apartment cost over a million, but we could afford it.

It was an intense relationship and we were completely open. I had always been a wild child and had a very wide circle of friends who lived a hedonistic lifestyle. Todd bought into it and couldn't believe his luck when I introduced him to my best friend Lucy and we had our first threesome. There was no holding us and we worked our socks off and partied even harder. We were stupidly well paid, could afford the best hotels and restaurants around the world and went at everything full-on. When bonus time came around, we took off to Dubai, Singapore, Sochi. We skied, watched Grands Prix, Open Golf, Wimbledon and the NFL games in London - all from VIP lounges on the best hospitality packages.

Shortly after we were married, Todd was offered a relocation back to Chicago. It was a wrench for me to leave England, but I soon fell in love with the Windy City and America in general as I got to see more of the huge country.

My job was more or less the same as before, but Todd's was more intense than ever and the pressure to perform and make vast profits increased almost by the day. I didn't see it coming to start with, but the mood swings and erratic behaviour soon made me realise all was not well.

When I found a large bag of white powder in a holdall when he was away in San Diego for a week, I really began to worry. Despite being party animals, we had never done drugs. I had snorted one line long before we met -- the night of my first orgy in fact - and had shared the odd joint occasionally, but I had seen what it did to a couple of friends. They got over it, but it was hard work for them, and I made sure I steered well clear thereafter, despite the frequent temptations.

When I confronted Todd, he said it was just the odd hit to keep him going through some heavy periods at work. He promised me he would stop, but as he became more and more aggressive and withdrawn, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was feeling the strain and hated my job, so it was understandable he would be even worse.

We began to drift apart and our party lifestyle stalled. Our arguments seemed to spring from nowhere and we could go from kissy-kissy to daggers drawn in an instant. When things began to fly around the room, my alarm bells rang very loudly indeed. He never hit me, but there were many occasions when I thought he might. Our sex took on a darker side and although I loved being tied up, it was to tease me, not to allow my husband to dominate and call me demeaning names.

I now dreaded sex and on more than one night, cried silently on my side, my throat sore from his hands around it, my back passage on fire from his onslaught and my butt-cheeks raw from slapping and paddling with his new favourite sex-toy -- my hairbrush. My ears also rang from being called a whore, a slut, a bitch and worse. I was only grateful that his interest in me was diminishing almost by the day so my ordeals were fewer and further between.

It all came to a head one night when we accepted one of our regular invites to a swinger party at a friend's condo on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Before the real action of the night began, we would mingle over drinks and canapes, scoping out likely candidates for later. That night, I lost track of Todd for a while and when he returned, his eyes were glazed and his nose glowed like Rudolph's on Christmas Eve. I decided to give him a wide berth for the rest of the evening and soon found myself in a very nice threesome with the host and his girlfriend. As Abbie lapped at me and I took Dwayne in my mouth, I caught sight of Todd over by the bar, palming pills into his mouth and downing them with a swig from a bottle of Jack. I went back to my work and tried to forget about him but it put a damper on what had been a very enjoyable fifteen minutes.

Then an hour or so later came the kicker. After a breathless bout of group sex, I fancied a little gentle me-time with a lovely black lady from the office who I had my eye on for a while. Marsha was a real babe and I had long wished to slide between her thighs and fold back her dark outer lips to reveal the pink pleasures inside. We liberated a bottle of Merlot from the bar and made our way to one of the guest rooms.

As I opened the door, I held my arm out to stop her from entering and stood in shock and disbelief at the scene before me. Todd had Abbie pinned to the bed on her stomach, his leather belt tight around her throat, a ball gag in her mouth. He held the strap of the belt and her long ponytail in one hand, pulling hard on them as she mewled into her gag, clearly in pain. The other hand slapped her buttocks with resounding cracks as he slammed into her back passage like a man possessed. He had gone hard at me in recent times, but this was just sheer brutality.

The look on his face and the words pouring from his mouth made me shudder. We had always talked dirty during sex, but this was just sheer humiliation and vitriol. Abbie was clearly struggling and I was about to step in and put a stop to it when he pulled her head back viciously and smacked her hard across the cheek, leaving a livid red handprint. She screamed into her ball gag and I turned to Marsha, who was now by my side and wide-eyed in astonishment.

"Fucking hell, go and get Dwayne, Marsha -- this has to stop."

She ran off to find our host and I tried to drag Todd off poor Abbie and received an elbow in my chest for my pains. I crumpled back, winded, now sobbing at the pain and the scene in front of me.

I barely saw Dwayne fly into the room and grab Todd in a neck lock. Punches were thrown and Marsha led a distraught Abbie away as Dwayne rightly kicked seven shades of shit out of my husband.

It was the final straw for me. Despite his pleading and whining, I couldn't risk being next. I moved out and shared with a friend from the office for a while before I rented a downtown apartment. By then, Todd was on written warnings at work and was finally suspended when he was arrested while on a bender up in Milwaukee for beating up a hooker.

He never got to trial and six weeks later, I was a widow at twenty-eight.

I couldn't process my emotions at first. I was by turns relieved and angry; sad that what had been such a bright light had been snuffed out. I was also grateful I had not been carried down into the dark whirlpool that claimed Todd - or suffered the same fate as Abbie or the hooker.

I took indefinite leave and was out of action for a long time, despite friends rallying round and encouraging me back into their midst. It was Abbie who finally told me to pull myself together. We had become quite close since Todd's assault on her -- there was no other word for it.

"Gotta get back in the game, Claire. Still got years of being a stunner ahead of you. Guys are still hanging out for you." She let out a little laugh and touched me on the arm. "And girls..."

She was the first person I slept with after Todd and it felt good. A lovely, gentle interlude in what had been a turbulent and violent time for me. It also felt like closure for what had happened at her condo. As she left the next morning, she kissed me tenderly.

"Do something, girl. Promise me?"

I hugged her. "Will do, Abs."

I decided enough was enough in finance. I had hated it towards the end and it had cost me my marriage and my husband. Fortuitously there were redundancies in the offing and I applied for one. It was rejected, but I argued that it was far better to allow me to go willingly than to sack someone who wanted and needed the job. Plus, was I likely to be fully committed, given my circumstances? Somehow, I convinced them and received a very generous severance.

I then spent a weekend trying to work out what to do. I had already sold our house out in Arlington Heights at a very handsome profit. The money from the sale of the Thameside property three years before was in an investment portfolio and doing very well indeed. Despite our lavish lifestyle and Todd's latter day heavy expenditure on consumable white goods, there were still considerable savings in the bank.

With all of that plus my redundancy, I was very well catered for. In all likelihood I would never have to work again if I had a mind not to.

I considered a return to London but felt if I did it would be a backward step. Things change quickly and I have never been one for going back. I loved Chicago and there was still a lot of America left to see.

I thought about a cruise -- maybe the Caribbean. A month of sun and hopefully lots of sex. Then the thought of being on my own on a huge ship put me off. I imagined the kind of single men I might meet would be the desperate kind.

A bit like me then.

Then something dawned on me. I had not had sex with a man for almost three months and I hadn't missed it one tiny bit. I was getting along just fine with my toys and the content of my accompanying surfing sessions had changed. Before, it had been the things we liked to do -- group sex, rooms full of strangers getting it on. Raunchy, racy threesomes and foursomes with cum flying and no holes barred.

Now I was getting off to watching women together. I had always loved sex with women and my night with Abbie seemed to be a watershed for me. I no longer craved the debauchery I had relished for so long. It had been so gentle, so erotic and so beautiful that I couldn't get it out of my mind. I had plenty of fuck buddies I could have relied upon for a booty call but it just didn't appeal. Abbie was away with Dwayne on a long vacation and Marsha didn't seem interested in me after the party, so I became a single, celibate girl again for a while.

In desperation, I wrote down the things I was good at. It wasn't a very long list.

Things I Like by Claire Massey, aged 28 3/4

1 Making money

2 Sex

3 Riding horses

4 Eating good food

5 Drinking fine wine

6 Repeat ad infinitum

I didn't even get to ten. I stared at the list for a long time. Whatever I was about to do, number two had to be part of it going forward. Four and five were a given as well. Number one was no longer required as I had all the money I could ever need.

That left number three.

I had been a decent rider in my youth. I grew up with horses in the Cotswolds back in England and graduated from Pony Club to County standard Three Day Eventing. I still kept my hand in once a month or so at a local stables. I had done a week on a ranch in Texas a couple of years earlier when Todd was back in London and things were a little happier. I was equally at home on a horse wearing a tailcoat and bow tie as a pair of jeans and a Stetson.

I perused a few websites and found what I was looking for. The blurb promised spectacular treks in glorious mountainous countryside, a standard of food and drink head and shoulders above other ranches, and best of all it was miles from nowhere.

There was nothing to lose -- and who knew, I might just get lucky. There might even be a handsome cowboy who would redeem my faith in men. I booked the Luxury Package at Beaver Creek for two weeks.

That was seven years ago.

I'm still at Beaver Creek, but I'm not a client anymore.

Two

The flight into the nearest small town to Beaver Creek was as spectacular as it was scary. I had never been in such a small plane before and the few passengers were distributed by weight around the cabin. One couple en-route to another ranch would have to wait for their luggage to arrive on a different flight.

But the sight of the mountains in the afternoon sunshine kept us all from worrying about the size of our transport and in the end it reminded me more of a scenic helicopter ride we had done over the Grand Canyon shortly after arriving in America. As that thought crossed my mind, I decided it was the last time I would drag up anything involving Todd for the duration.

I hate airports with a passion. To me, it is like entering a fascist state where the rules are only there to torment poor passengers and make things as uncomfortable and inhumane as possible. This airport was an honourable exception -- small and compact, not much more than an airfield, and not only were the views amazing, but it was the one thing virtually no other airport I had ever been through could ever hope to be.

It was quick.

I was in a cab within ten minutes of landing and had checked in to my hotel long before my baggage would have arrived at O'Hare or Midway back home.

To my delight, the hotel was comfortable and modern and had a small brewpub attached. I hadn't expected much and had not realised the town was also home to a ski resort in the winter. It had more amenities than I had seen in many small towns and had a lot more charm. It reminded me of a more modern version of an old Western town and I was pleased to see that there were plenty of shops where I could acquire the almost regulation cowboy boots and hat for my vacation.

Ok, I would look like a tourist, but that is exactly what I was.

Albeit one with her eye on horizontal pleasures as well as the interaction with equine quadrupeds in beautiful surroundings.

I showered and took a stroll around the place. It didn't take long, but I liked the feel of it. I had the rest of the afternoon and a full day to myself. It was Thursday and the pickup from the ranch was early on the Saturday. Plenty of time to explore and kit myself out, try the local beer and hopefully get to ride a well-endowed bucking bronco late into the night.

Or given my new-found yearnings, preferably a pneumatic blonde babe in a Stetson and leather pants.

Yeah, like that happened. The hotel was quiet and I didn't fancy cruising the local bars, so stayed put in the brewpub on both evenings. My server was a dishy guy, but clearly wasn't interested in ladies, so my toys got the first workout of the trip. I said 'hi' to a middle-aged couple from Des Moines who were also heading to Beaver Creek and hoped that they were not the main demographic of the ranch.

On the Saturday morning, I was out front with my suitcase, suitably attired in my snazzy light brown Stetson and a very fine pair of hand-tooled boots that felt like they had been made specially for me, they fit so well. Being a very big fan of boots in sexual situations, I hoped I would get to try them in and out of the saddle before long.

The minibus was a little late and I chatted amiably to the Iowan couple as we waited. It was their second trip and they said I would just love the place. I expected some beaten up old school bus to turn up, but it was state of the art and comfortable, which was just as well given the last twenty miles of dirt track we had to negotiate.

It pulled up alongside the hotel and there were already people on board from a previous pickup. A tall, lithe girl jumped down from the cab and her smile lit up the morning.

"Hey guys, I'm Shauna and I'll be takin' you to the lovely Beaver Creek today, so welcome. Let's get your gear stowed and we can be on our way."

We introduced ourselves and she opened the luggage compartment on the side. I was barely able to lift my case, but she picked all three of our bags up with ease and stowed them before we could blink. She ushered us on board and there were another three couples of similar age to the Iowans, plus a family of four. The mother and daughter, who must have been around twelve, were flushed with excitement. The girl reminded me of myself at that age -- my head filled with thoughts of riding and my love of horses. Her brother, a little older at maybe fifteen or sixteen sat sullenly, as though he was about to embark on a journey to his own private hell.

I nodded at my new friends as I walked down the aisle and sat at the back as Shauna took her place up front. She turned and endowed us with her lovely toothy smile. "Ok guys just got one more to wait for. Colleague of mine named Casey. Been workin' in our office here in town for a few days." She glanced at her watch and rolled her eyes. "Late for her own funeral -- you know the kind."

As she spoke, a car pulled up alongside and another tall, lithe figure stepped out of the passenger side. There was a flash of red hair that was quickly covered by a black Stetson similar to mine. As she took her bag out of the trunk of the car, I got a very fine view of long shapely legs, a very firm butt and a lovely pair of breasts that strained at her red-checked cowboy shirt rather alluringly.

She stowed her bag in the side compartment and jumped up the stairs, apologising for being late and entered into some friendly bickering banter with Shauna, who turned back to us, grinning. "Don't worry folks, she never sleeps in at the ranch. We keep a bucket of water above her bed as an alarm clock!"

As we laughed, the newcomer made her way down the bus, saying hi to all the passengers and introduced herself to each of them. It was then I realised I had misheard Shauna.

She had a lovely, homely Southern drawl. "Ok, so, I'm KC Warner - like in the letters K and C. Not 'Casey', right? And don't ask, ok cuz it's kinda embarrassin', so we don't go there, got it?"

It was all said with a smile that made Shauna's radiance look like a wet weekend. Her eyes were hidden behind mirror shades but already I was utterly mesmerised by the girl. The sullen teenager had suddenly woken up too. Having spoken to everyone, she stood in front of me and starting at the front right of the bus, reeled off everyone's name, hometown and state of origin without a pause.

She grinned. "Catch all that?" Her hand waved airily. "Ah, you'll all know each other soon enough." She crashed down next to me and held out a hand towards me. "Which by default means I must be parked next to Ms Claire Massey from Chicago, Illinois."

I shook her hand. "You are indeed, although it's Chicago via London and Gloucestershire. But still, very impressive, KC."

Her face lit up. "Hey, it's my job. Glad I didn't have to do Glos... whatever you said, though!"

Shauna interrupted my reply. "Ok folks, lets head on out. Forty-sumpin' miles and an hour or so to Beaver Creek, so sit back and enjoy the ride. Might get a little bumpy along the way, but no worse than them hosses you'll be ridin' for the next few days. Scenery's sumpin' special and there's usually eagles up top, so keep 'em peeled."

We pulled away from the kerb and I turned to KC. "So, been working back in town then?"

She nodded. "Yeah, we rotate every few weeks. As you'll see, it's remote, so we like to touch base with civilisation every now and again. Love the ranch, but sometimes just need to sink a few beers, eat burritos and watch shitty country cover bands in the Rusty Horseshoe!"

I laughed. "Sounds like fun. So where you from then?"

She leaned in close and whispered. "Shitsville, Arizona. Well, it ain't Arizona, but like my name, that's all you're gettin'. But it really is Shitsville, believe me!"

"I'm guessing the South, though."

"Correct, but that's all she wrote!"

As I laughed again she sat back and took off her sunglasses. As she did, I almost flipped. She had the most sparkling green eyes I had ever seen. With her red hair tumbling out from beneath her hat and her lightly freckled face, she was utterly stunning. She sucked on the stem of her glasses with beautiful coral lips and gazed out of the window almost wistfully.