Lesbian Cowboys (9 page)

For the rest of the morning, I felt as if I had been subpoenaed to appear in court.
We'll talk
. About what? Would this talk be a lecture or an interrogation?

While I was trying to avoid being knocked down by the goats without running away from them, I saw Misty plunging about in the soft snow. The farm collie was barking and nipping at her legs, and I thought I should intervene. Did dogs usually attack horses? I really didn't know. But then I saw that the two animals were playing a game of feint, sidestep, retreat, and counter-feint. It was a dance or a language that I had never learned. The interspecies friendship in front of me almost distracted me from thinking about Julia.

She lured a goat away from me and then stood beside me, hip-to-hip, and wrapped a shaking arm around my parka-covered shoulders. She wasn't shaking from the cold, and a glance at her face showed me the big laugh that she was barely holding inside. “Come up to the house for some grub, wrangler.”

In the mudroom, we took off our boots, coats, mittens, scarves, and hats. In the warmth of the kitchen, I was tempted to keep going by peeling off my sweater and jeans. I decided not to risk being kicked out in my underwear or my skin.

Julia pulled a plastic container out of the freezer and emptied the contents into a pot on the stove. The smells of a savory beef soup wafted through the room. As though saving her breath, Julia wordlessly poured coffee from the morning into two cups
and handed me one. “Chris, you obviously needed sleep last night, but now you need to tell me why you're here.”

I moved away from her, looking around the kitchen.

“Cream is in the fridge, sugar is on the table. Fix your coffee and then sit down and talk to me. Are you running from the cops?”

I forced myself to sit and look at her. When she was serious, it was hard to believe she was able to smile. “No, they didn't charge any of us.” I hoped Julia would feel reassured.

“For what?”

“Julia, it's complicated.”

“Cut the crap. I took you in and you owe me an explanation. Is this about Bert's drinking?”

I wanted to jump up and run out the door, but Julia stood behind me, holding my shoulders down. “Let's try it like this, baby. Just tell me what happened.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I furiously tried to blink them away. Then the words came.

I don't remember telling her about Bert's rages over my real and imagined disloyalty, our on-again, off-again relationship, her unbelievable, swear-to-God promises, or my stupid hope. The last scene replayed in my mind. I could smell the beer in my hair and feel it dripping off my nose. I could see Bert's teeth and tongue as she yelled in my face, and feel the punches in my back from her playmate and drinking buddy.

“I grabbed a knife,” I told Julia. “We were in the kitchen, and I saw it, so I grabbed it. They're lucky I didn't stab them. We're all lucky. The local police came, but they didn't do anything. They laughed.”

“Male cops?”

“Yeah. They didn't take it seriously once they knew we were all women.” I felt nauseated. My head throbbed.

I knew nothing about handling animals or surviving on the land. After the self-destruction of patriarchal civilization, I would be useless until I learned a whole new set of skills. Now it was clear that I still couldn't stay out of trailer-trash dyke dramas. I just wanted to disappear.

Julia pulled me up from my chair, turned me around, and held me close. “Baby.” She poured the syrupy word into my ear. “You'll be all right.”

I couldn't stand her sympathy. “I'm not the victim,” I reminded her. “I grabbed a knife. I'm not a person who does that. I manage an office now, and I have a frigging degree. Jesus.”

I tried to ease myself out of her custody, to no avail. She pulled back to look at me but kept me in a firm grip. “What do you feel so bad about?”

Shame boiled up out of my belly like bile, almost choking me. “I have to go,” I babbled. “I just have to go. I'm sorry. This isn't your problem.”

I could hardly believe what I saw in Julia's eyes. Amusement, affection, sympathy had all been there before, but now she almost beamed with a kind of predatory anticipation. “Did you really
want
to get busted? Do you think you deserve punishment?”

Yes!
screamed a voice in my head. “I don't know,” I said. Did I want her to accept my violent streak, thereby showing a lack of class? Or did I want her to demonstrate pacifist feminist values by kicking me out in the snow?

“Yes you do, honey. What do you need to feel before you can forgive yourself?”

“Oh. I see what you mean.” I saw the gleam in her eyes. Omigod. I saw her hands itch to help me do penance. It would all be in fun, of course, if a rough game that left real marks could be called fun. I had been warned about Julia, and I had driven
for three hours on an icy highway to get here. I couldn't pretend to be shocked.

“Smart girl. If you see what I mean, do you trust me?”

“Yes. Julia, you've always stayed out of the bullshit, as long as I've known you.” I remembered her comment about shoveling shit. The stuff she dealt with was bound to be more useful than the waste products of those with nothing better to do.

She pressed her lips to mine in a long, warm, tongueful kiss. I felt myself melting inside. “Do you want me to show you a few things?” Her eyes dared me.

“Yes, ma'am. I do.”

I felt as if I had stepped through an invisible door into a world I had been peering at for years, telling myself that what I wanted was impossible. If I had known how easy it was to say yes, I might not have driven Bert crazy by being half-present, never quite there.

“What will you say if you want me to stop?”

“Mustang,” I told her. “I'll say that.”

“Okay, varmint, I'm the sheriff around here, and you're under arrest. I'm not letting you go until you show the proper attitude. Take your clothes off.”

She wasn't holding me. I could have run up the stairs, grabbed my stuff, pulled on my parka, walked out to my car, and hit the road. But I didn't want to. “Really?” I wondered how serious she was.

She grinned. “Really. If you want to play, you'll follow my rules. Unless you'd rather go back to the barn to work. I might make you do that anyway.”

I felt strangely free as I pulled my sweater over my head, unhooked my own bra, unzipped my jeans, and wiggled out of them. After I had taken my panties off, revealing the dark triangle of hair between my thighs, my socks followed. When I
had neatly folded all my clothes and left them in a pile on her kitchen floor, I straightened up for inspection.

“Nice, baby.” She walked around me, casually running a warm hand across my back, over my ribs, across my puckered nipples, and then over my sensitive stomach to my crotch. “Bend over.” As I bent forward from the waist, she shoved two fingers into my cunt as far as they would go. I bit down on a squeal.

“Um, you're wet. Good girl. You want me, don't you?”

“Oh, Julia,” I groaned. “Ever since I met you.”

“Yet you didn't say anything.” Her work-hardened fingers stroked my soft, wet channel, almost bringing me to the brink of an explosion. “If you want to be with me, you have to tell me what you want. Will you do that?”

“Yes.” Answering her questions was hard. That was obviously the point.

She removed her fingers from inside me, releasing the smell of my lust to mingle with the aroma of the soup on the stove. I had never realized before how pungent and wet and viscous my desire could get. It wasn't just a feeling. It was physical evidence. I could never hide it from her again.

She waved her fingers under my nose to reinforce her message. With her other hand, she straightened me up as though I were her toy. “My belt or my hand?”

I must have changed color as an icy jolt ran up my spine. “You're—are you really planning to beat me?”

“I've got other things too, but I don't think you're ready for them. You're not a very experienced little filly, are you?”

“No, ma'am.” I wasn't willing to brag about what I could take. She would find out soon enough.

She ran a hand down my back and then slapped my behind—just lightly, as an appetizer. The slap left a faint echo in my flesh, not enough to reach my awakened clit. I wanted it harder.
“You're not too chicken for a spanking, are you?”

“No, ma'am.” I felt as if I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. “Please use your hand, ma'am. It's part of you.”

“You have a lot to learn, Chris. Everything I use is a part of me. But I'll give you what you want. You'd better be grateful.”

I couldn't help shuddering when she calmly unbuckled her belt, hesitated a moment as though she had changed her mind, and then pulled it through the loops of her jeans and dropped it onto the floor, where the metal buckle thunked on the hardwood. I watched as she efficiently unbuttoned her shirt and shed it like a second skin, shucked her jeans, and stood in a matched set of red satin bra and panties, trimmed with lace.

“This what you want to see? Thought I wore granny panties, didn't you?”

“You look—beautiful, Ma'am.” She did, too. The frilliness of her underwear actually seemed to bring out the lines of her lean torso and strong arms. It was like seeing a world-class athlete in a lingerie ad.

“Look fast because they're coming off. I work better in the nude.” She removed her last scraps of clothing without wasting a motion. Her breasts were even more impressive than I had imagined, and they were crowned with full brown nipples. Her hips had the sleek curves of a statue.

“You know my hands aren't soft, don't you? The hand cream I use is for healing cuts and blisters, not keeping my skin delicate.” She sat on a kitchen chair and beckoned. “Over my lap, my girl.”

I stretched awkwardly over her lap, bracing myself with my hands and tiptoes on the floor. I loved the warmth of her thighs and the tangy smell of her armpits.

She ran a hand over my buttcheeks and tickled the crack. “Tough chick with a shank. You're soft and sweet here, though.
Not a hard-ass at all. We need to work on that.”

Her hand came down, just hard enough to make a sharp sound. The sting hit a second later and made me clench the muscles in my empty cleft.
Slap!
I squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position.
Slap! Slap!
The irregular rhythm kept me off-guard as it heated my ass. I heard myself squeak, as though from a distance, but I wouldn't beg for mercy.

When my face was wet with tears I couldn't hold back, she stopped. “That's enough, Chris. You need to know your limits.”

Every movement I made echoed in the burning skin of my behind. I rose off her lap awkwardly, grateful for her hands on my arms. “You impressed me, baby, but you're not finished. You got me all worked up.”

I could have said the same. My clit was screaming for attention, and I wondered how long I would have to wait.

She stood and held me for a moment, and then squeezed each of my nipples in turn, making me jump. “You're so touchy. I need something to hold you in place. Come with me.” She pushed me ahead of her toward the stairs. As I suspected, she herded me into the guest room where the bedding still held the shape of my body.

“Don't you make the bed in the morning? Lazy bitch.” I felt mortified. I hadn't really believed I would be coming back here.

“Lie down.” I crawled cautiously into the center of the bed and eased myself gently onto the rumpled quilt. Where my bottom touched it, it felt like sandpaper. “Arms up.” I stretched my arms up, feeling my lungs expand with my reach.

Something clanged against the metal bedposts, and one of my wrists was securely restrained by something that was lined in soft fabric but not very flexible. Soon my other wrist was in the same predicament. I realized that I was cuffed to the bed.

“I need your tongue,” she told me. She crawled over me like
a cougar stalking her prey. When her thighs straddled my ears, she effectively cut off my hearing and forced me to focus on her insistent flesh. I heard her say something, but I couldn't distinguish the words. Her meaning was clear enough. Her wet lower lips and the curly hair surrounding them almost covered my nose and mouth. The smell of her hot musk seemed to fill the room.

Julia's cunt felt like the center of the universe. I stretched out my tongue and took a taste. I tried alternating pokes with the tip of my tongue and broad licks on her slippery folds. I found her swelling clit and lavished attention on it. I began learning her movements: which ones meant “Don't stop,” and which ones meant “Slow down” or “Lighten up.” Her wavelike motion speeded up when I found a responsive spot, so I tried different ways of licking it. Soon she was bucking in an unmistakable way, and I struggled to hang on, or hang in. My face was drenched in her juice, and I felt honored.

She moved away from my face, leaving it cold and wet. My wrists ached, and I wondered when she planned to release me. Something cool and metallic nudged my cunt-lips, which made the pressure in my wrists recede. I was helpless to escape, and that fact intensified every sensation. I could already feel an orgasm building up in my center like a tidal wave. Her head moved down my body, leaving a trail of hot breath. I felt her mouth on my clit as she pushed the metal object into me. “Oh!” I yelled, wondering if she would gag me for making too much noise.

She raised her head and laughed. “Are you always this loud?”

“Nope,” I managed to gasp.

She fucked me deeply and steadily, gradually speeding up. She obviously wanted to know what other sound effects she could get out of me. She twisted the dildo, spiraling it in and out. My sore ass was bouncing uncontrollably on the bed as I rushed toward a climax like a full cup overflowing.