“Christ Salomè, slow down. We’re not in a fricking race,” squeaked Annabelle. Leaning forward she gripped the sun-softened leather dash with goanna-like claws and the seatbelt snap-locked across her chest with a harsh ‘clack’.“Where did you get your license? Did you win it in a raffle? I don’t know if anyone has told you recently but you drive like a bloody maniac.”
Gasping she leaned towards Salomè and pointing wildly, yelled, “Fuuuck! Watch the fence!” She felt breathless -- and she had to admit, a tad excited -- as her heart raced with the excess adrenalin that her hostess’s rally-like driving had induced.
Salomè laughed at the anxiety in her voice.
“Come now my dear, you can’t tell me in all honesty that you’ve never been a bit of a lead-foot yourself?” Taking her hands off the wheel she touched up her lippie in the rear-view mirror and Annabelle groaned as she saw the fence on her side sweep closer.
“Look out!” She glared at Salomè who just laughed harder. “No I wouldn’t call myself a ‘lead-foot’ at all. I might like to drive a little…um…quickly. But never at the speed-of-light like you!”
By the time they’d reached the stables five minutes later, Annabelle had to extract her fingernails from the leather, leaving behind ten moon-crescent gashes.
Pulling her sunnies down over her eyes she exhaled noisily and climbed out, for once not caring if she flashed her knickers, just relieved to put her wobbly legs back on terra firma. Sneezing as the rich smell of lucerne hay reached her nose she walked around the front of the 4x4 and leaned back on the bullbar catching her breath as she gazed out over the paddocks before her.
And at the precise same time as she felt the tug in her chest, she saw him. He sat astride a magnificent coal-black horse, cantering bareback in large circles, and best of all he appeared to be totally oblivious to her presence. And if he wasn’t he didn’t acknowledge her. He rocked sensually with the horse’s gait and as it dropped back into a trot he bumped his heel to its shining belly and instantly it jumped back into a smooth canter.
“Oh. Good. Lord. Yummy!” she drooled quietly, and her head swam as she clutched the base of her throat. Searing, crazy-desire raced through her veins and pooled low in her belly. Muscles deep inside fluttered spasmodically and involuntarily clenching them she grit her teeth and hissed back a harsh breath. Blushing hotly as her breasts tightened, she felt the nipples harden painfully, their sensitive skin straining against her bra as she gazed at him.
From faraway she heard the dull click of heels, and then an annoying ‘tap-tap-tap’.
Briefly she recognised the sound of fingernails on metal but she was floating away, drowning in her lust and her surroundings were just…inconsequential.
Her mouth dried up and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of his tanned muscular frame. He was the only thing she saw. Naked from the waist up, his long pale-denim-clad legs casually dangled down, the faded blue of his jeans a perfect contrast to the rich black of his horse, while his bare feet barely reached below its girth. One hand rested on his thigh and the other loosely held the reins. As the horse rocked backwards and forwards she saw the muscles of his arms, legs and back flex as he adjusted and moved with the animal’s movements. He seemed to be in perfect sync with the giant beast, an extension of it, almost like a Centaur.
She grabbed Salomè’s arm and without looking at her she gasped, “Who is he? Is that the mysterious Samuel?” He turned his head and she imagined she saw flames flare up in his eyes. Turning the horse’s head he leaned forward and kicked it into a gallop before disappearing into a copse of she-oaks in a blaze of black swishing tail and dust.
“Ah oh. That’s not good. Not good at all,” whispered Salomè watching Lucifer disappear. Her words had been uttered so quietly all that Annabelle heard through the whooshing sounds of her unexpected sexual hunger was a low bell-like tinkle.
Spinning around, Annabelle became aware that her breathing was coming in sharp little pants. It felt like she’d run a marathon and placing a hand to her chest she felt her heart pounding. Salomè narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses, noticing the tell-tale flush beneath her make-up, obvious signs of her excitement and craving.
I’d better nip this in the bud before she runs after him, she reasoned. Linking her arm through Annabelle’s she steered her in the opposite direction towards the stables, her heels clacking on the hot cement as she led Annabelle in through the open double doors.
Inside the air was noticeably cooler -- by at least five degrees -- and Annabelle felt the sweat beads on her forehead evaporate. Walking deeper into the soft shadows she smiled as her totally inappropriate kitten-heels ‘tippy-tapped’ on the pristine concrete. When Salomè had suggested a visit to the stables she’d considered changing into shorts and flip-flops but then at the last minute changed her mind. She wasn’t going to be getting on one of those wild beasts so she figured that what she had on would be perfectly ok to wear.
Out of habit she reached into her bag, her fingers closing on her cigarettes. Cursing at her addiction’s terrible timing, she bit the inside of her lip to chase away the demon-cravings.
Snapping her bag closed with more force than she’d intended she sniffed as a sweet scent washed over her, and without her noticing the cravings magically faded as her thoughts were distracted.
It smelt scrumptious, unlike anything she’d ever smelt before, the combined smell of horse and fresh hay. Wriggling her nose like a rabbit she smiled as she spied the source of the warm, sweet smell. Tucked in between a tack room and what looked like a small office was a tower of square hay bales all neatly stacked like Christmas presents under the tree, wrapped in rich green paper and tied with hot-pink string.