Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper's Cove Read online

  I’m growing more and more unsettled. This isn’t what I thought it was going to be at all. Then I start to watch Davis. He seems to have calmed down and is having a good time. There are so many conflicting emotions going on inside me, and I really don’t know what to do.

  But we don’t have to decide right then. I’m thinking about the conversation we’ll have when Jay interrupts my thoughts with, “Can I give you a suggestion?”

  “Sure.”

  “He needs a tail.”

  “I’d noticed that,” I assure him.

  He surprises me when he says, “Get one that’s attached to a butt plug. He needs to get used to something up his ass if he’s going to be in this community for long.”

  Now I’m just getting pissed off. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  The look he gives me is one of pity, as if I just don’t understand how things work. “I’m just saying, that’s part of it. I’d love to do some training with him. Sure would. Just let me know when you’re ready. And I hope you’ll consider letting me use him as a stud for my mare. I’m sure that would be an awesome sight.”

  That just creeps me out. “Thanks. I think it’s probably time to load up now.” But before I can reach Davis, Dani steps in front of me. “Hi!” I blurt out.

  “Hey! Hope you two had a good time today.” Her smile is genuine and sweet.

  “We did. Jay was explaining some things to me over here.”

  She nods. “Jay’s been a member of the community for a long time. And I saw him eyeing your pony.”

  Trying to keep my face passive, I tell her, “Yeah. He asked me to think about letting him use Trusty to breed his mare.”

  “That would be a good idea. She’s a compliant one, so it would be easy for him to cover her as a first time stud. Can’t think of one in this group that would be better.” She says it so matter-of-factly that I’m stunned. “Oh, well, time to get packed up, I suppose. I’ve got to go give my pony a rub down.” She says that with a wink, and I’m wondering if she means what I think she means. “I hope you’ll come to our next meeting. It’s an opportunity for the riders and the mounts to get together in a human setting, look at some of the breeding videos, and talk about what they need to do to make the community more accepted and more accepting.”

  “I’d love to do that. Just please put me on the email list.” I can’t wait to get away from all of this to see how Davis feels about the day. I wave as I step toward him, and I see that Buttercup’s owner has already led her away. They’ve gone over to a fence nearby and he’s tied her there, then started rubbing her down with a rubber curry comb.

  As I watch, he reaches between her legs and begins to stroke her, and I see her bob her head and fidget. In seconds, it’s obvious to anyone around that she’s just had an orgasm, and without fanfare, he whips out his cock, rolls on a condom, and begins to fuck her there at the fence, her hands tied behind her back. She barely moves, just braces herself against the fence as he pounds into her, then stands there silently as he finishes. When he’s done, he steps to her head and slips his fingers in her mouth, and I see her lipping them gently, as if to clean them of her own juices. With a bottle of water in his hand, he uses a rag to tenderly clean her up, then unties her lead and heads off toward the cars. All around us the same scenario is playing out in several spots within the gathering area. The one that really surprises me is the number of female riders bent over and taking it from behind from their ponies, many of them struggling to complete the act with their hands still bound behind their backs. I suppose that’s part of being a pony―they don’t have hands. There’s a lot of moaning and crying out, and I’m not even aware that Davis has stepped up beside me. “What do you think of all this?”

  “Can we talk about it in the car? Please, ma’am?” he mumbles, and I look down to see his studly appendage issuing a full salute. Holy shit.

  “Sure. Let’s go. Got everything?”

  He nods, still looking around. “Yes, ma’am. Sure do.”

  “Okay. Head ‘em up and move ‘em out.” I get the feeling it’s going to be a long drive home.

  It’s quiet until we get off the property and back onto the state-maintained road. But we’ve got to talk about it, I know. Finally, I ask, “So, what did you think?”

  He shrugs. “I dunno. Buttercup is very nice.”

  “Are you aware her rider wants you to breed her?” His expression doesn’t change. “Did she say anything to you about that?”

  His face is blank. “Not really. She did say he’s always looking for studs to service her.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  He shrugs again. “That’s part of what stallions do. I suppose I should. If you want me to.”

  “What do you want to do?” I ask again.

  Those passive eyes find mine as though they’re seeking a way out. “I want to do whatever I’m supposed to do, whatever you want me to do. I’m your pony.”

  “How would you feel if I traded you to someone else? Maybe even to a male handler?”

  He turns away from me and stares out the window. “I want to be a pony. I suppose that’s what owners do from time to time.”

  I’m just shocked at his answer. “You’d let me do that?”

  “I don’t let you do anything. I’m your pony. You do with me what you please. If I want to be a pony, I guess this is part of my life.”

  Now I’m starting to get a little irritated, and I pull off on the side of the road, shut off the car, and twist until I’m facing him. “Let me get this straight: You’d take it up the ass if I asked you to. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You don’t ask me anything. You tell me. I’m your pony. You control me. If that’s what you want me to do, then I’ll do it.” He seems to be shrinking in front of me―not what I wanted at all.

  Now I’m starting to panic. This is supposed to be positive for him, and I’m not sure it’s going to be. Deciding I need to start the conversation over and see what happens, I try again. “Okay. So let’s say we’re at a gathering. An owner walks up to me and asks, ‘My mare here is in heat. I’d like to breed her to your stud. Could we do that this afternoon?’ What would you say?”

  “I’d do whatever you told me to.”

  I can’t take it anymore, and I just shout out, “Davis!” That makes him jump. “We both have a stake in this! We both should have a say! So I want your opinion. Mine isn’t the only one that counts.”

  “But if I’m a pony and―”

  Lord, he’s hardheaded. “No. Regardless how far into this we get, you are not just a piece of property. Right now we’re both people and I want to know: Do you want to have sex with a woman you don’t know as I and a whole group of people stand by watching and making a video for everyone in the group to watch later? Maybe with two or three other couples doing the same thing at the same time? Is this something that would make you feel more like a pony?”

  His voice is strained when he answers me. “I don’t know. It’s so much to think about. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve never fucked somebody in front of other people. I don’t even know what that would be like.” His voice is getting tighter and more strained by the minute, and I can see his stress level shooting up.

  It’s time to diffuse the situation. “Hey, babe, look at me.” Something deep down inside me starts to burn in an uncomfortable way when I see the confusion that lines his face. “I don’t want to cause you pain. I don’t want you to do things you really don’t want to do. That’s not why we’re doing this. Making you do things that will make you feel bad or afraid isn’t what I want―at all. This is supposed to be about you and me, about making us better people, and about fulfilling our fantasies.”

  At that very moment, he asks the question I’ve been wanting to ask him but didn’t think I could. “Together?”

  Something inside me clicks. I can feel it. How I answer this question will determine everything from this point. I don’t know how I should answer it,
but I know how I want to answer it. And I decide to just let ‘er rip. “Yes. Together.”

  The relief in the car is almost solid as he whispers, “Good.” After a few seconds for both of us to consider what we’ve just said, he adds, “This wasn’t what I thought it was going to be at all.”

  I giggle a little, mostly from nerves. “Me neither.” Reaching to take his hand, I grasp it and wait until his eyes return to mine. “I didn’t bring you here to pass your body around for the viewing pleasure of the whole group. I mean, if you decided you wanted to work nude and they enjoyed watching, that would be between you and me, not the group.”

  He sighs and I feel like we’re on the same page when he answers again, “Good.”

  Now I sigh too. “Why didn’t you just tell me that to start with?”

  He just shrugs and there’s a shy little smile on his face when he says, “Because I’m a pony.”

  Before I can stop myself, I lean over and kiss him. To my surprise, he kisses me back, the hand I’m not holding stroking my face. Fear surges through me as I ask, “Did I just cross a line?”

  He chuckles against my lips. “A line I’ve been hoping you’d cross ever since I met you.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  4

  Gloria

  Church is over and the lunch dishes are cleaned up, so I sit down on the sofa. It’s pretty outside. I suppose I could go out and sit on the porch swing, but I’ll just sit here and watch out the window.

  Matter of fact, I sit here all afternoon. Finally, at about six o’clock, I see a car coming in. They pull up in the drive and I watch them get out. He’s wearing those sweatpants I’ve seen him in a couple of times and a button front, long sleeved shirt. It’s awfully warm outside for that stuff, and it covers him up too well. Those muscles are worth waiting for.

  She gets out too, and my word, she’s a lumpy, mousey thing. That’s what I thought the first time I saw her, and she’s not any prettier now. How she attracted a guy like him I’ll never know.

  “Take a look, Russell,” I call out. When he gets to the living room, I point out the window.

  He watches for a few seconds. “Yeah? What?”

  “That’s those new people, Tasha and Davis. Tasha Hogan and Davis Fields. No, that’s wrong; Tasha Fields and Davis Hogan. Yeah, that’s right.”

  “They look nice,” he mutters, then turns to go to his chair.

  “You just never know about people. They were doing something in their backyard yesterday. I should go take a look.”

  “You should leave them alone, that’s what you should do. Don’t bother them, Gloria. I mean it.” He’s already picked up the paper and dismissed me.

  “I’m not going to ‘bother’ them,” I bark, making air quotes around that word. “I’m just wondering what they did, that’s all.”

  “Is it going to do anything to you? Hurt you in any way?”

  “Well, no, but …”

  He drops the paper just enough to glare over it at me. “Then leave them the hell alone, Gloria. They’re not hurting you. They’re not hurting anybody. Don’t start in on them.”

  “What are you talking about, start in on them?” I have no idea what he means.

  “You know, trying to get them to stop and talk to you. Asking personal questions. Snooping around.”

  I think back to that one time outside that window. “Yeah, and just think, we would’ve never known what kind of deviants the Hendersons are if I hadn’t done a little checking up.”

  “You’d think after what you did to Reverend Samuel you’d learn your―”

  “How many times do I have to tell you―I didn’t do anything to him! He made that up!”

  Russell gives me the most condescending look I think I’ve ever seen. “Oh, come on, Gloria. Why would a minister make up something like that?”

  “I have no idea, but he did! I swear to you, Russell, I didn’t do a thing.”

  He huffs at me. I hate when he does that. “Well, I don’t know exactly what you did―”

  “I TOLD YOU! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” I scream at him. “Not one blessed thing! Except be nice to him!” This is really upsetting me.

  “Seems you might’ve been a little too nice―”

  “I didn’t do anything, Russell. Look, I’ve never been unfaithful to you in all these years. I’ve never flirted with another man. I’ve never so much as looked at another man.”

  He chuckles and that really makes me angry. “Yeah? So is that why you mumble about how good looking that guy is every time you catch sight of him?”

  “I’m married. I’m not buried. I can still appreciate a good looking man, can’t I? I mean, you like those football cheerleaders and those swimsuit calendar things. Is it so wrong that I like looking at good looking guys?”

  Russell just shakes his head.

  I so badly wish I could make him see what’s going on around him, but it seems it’s no use. If anything goes wrong in the neighborhood, I’m pretty sure I’ll get blamed for it. It’ll somehow be my fault, even though I’ve been trying to tell everybody what kind of sickness is creeping around among us. No one wants to believe me. And I can’t make them. So there’s no point in talking to anybody about it.

  There’s not even enough rum to make myself a hurricane, at least not in the kitchen anyway. I check the pantry, then the refrigerator in the garage, and finally under the upstairs sink. And sure enough, there’s a bottle of dark rum in there. Of course, if Russell saw where I’d stored it, he’d make some smart aleck comment. Just as well he doesn’t know.

  Once I’ve got the hurricane in my hand, I take a little walk. It’s almost totally dark, and the alley goes right down behind Tasha and Davis’s house, so I stroll along back there. I try to look through the cracks in the fence to see what they were doing the day before, but I can’t. That’s very strange, because it’s just one of those regular wooden fences. And then it hits me.

  That noise from yesterday―they were doing something to close up the cracks in the fence. That means they don’t want anybody seeing what they do out there. That’s peculiar.

  Russell’s watching something on TV when I get back, and I’ve got to tell him. “Honey, guess what? I took a stroll down the alley behind the new people’s house and they’ve done something to close up the gaps in the fence so no one can see what they’re doing in their backyard. Why would they do that?”

  There’s a nasty sneer on his face. “Really, Gloria? Now you tell me: Why would they do that? Who could they possibly be hedging? Hmmm?”

  “I know what you’re implying, Russell.”

  “No, I’m saying it straight up. If you tried and couldn’t look through the fence, you’re the one they’re trying to block.”

  “But they don’t know I tried to look through the fence.”

  “Gloria, EVERYBODY knows you go around snooping. You have to know that. You’re famous in the neighborhood for being up in everybody’s business.” He just turns away and goes back to watching TV.

  Once again, I’m the only one in the neighborhood who cares what’s going on. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.

  Tasha

  After we came back from the gathering, Davis and I spent the rest of the night just relaxing. There was no mention of pony play at all. Showered and in comfortable lounging pants and tee shirts, we just talked about our families, our growing up years, and things that have shaped us into the people we are. That one kiss loosened us up. I don’t feel the formality I felt up until now. It’s like the ice has finally been broken and we can get personal and not be afraid.

  That’s when I finally get the rest of the story and I understand why Davis is who he is. He was engaged to a girl named Vanessa, but she wasn’t nearly as committed to him as he was to her. She left him at the altar and broke his heart. And that wasn’t the end of it. The next three women he was involved with did pretty much the same thing. How he kept finding the same kind of shitty women over and over, I’ll never
understand. When he talks about them, his face is so sad that it hurts.

  The last one crushed his heart and never looked back. She gave him back his ring in front of his whole family and all his friends at his birthday party and then announced she was marrying his best friend. I watch him wilt as he talks about it, remembering all the hurt and embarrassment. He turns those gorgeous, pain-filled eyes to me and asks, “Tash, am I really that worthless? Are the things I want really that weird, weird enough for people I love to treat me like I’m nothing?”

  “Never use the word ‘weird’ to describe yourself. We all have different needs. That doesn’t make us weird.” Just trying to figure out what to do next, I ask him, “Want to sit here with me?”

  “Do you want me to?” he asks back.

  “Babe, this is your call. You can sit there or you can come over here and sit down with me.” By the time the words are out, he’s right beside me, his eyes searching my face. “What?”

  The knuckles of one hand graze my cheek, and his lips part slightly before he asks, “Tasha, am I just here for training? Is this supposed to be a relationship? Because I’m really, really bad at this and I just can’t read it.”