PonyGirl

by Barbie Lee

 

Roger had made a sales pitch to the editors of Scientific Galaxy. The meeting had not gone well. His portfolio and storyboard was picture perfect. The problem was that bitch of a witch running the meeting never let it come to a vote of the board. The members never received the chance to decide if they liked his ideas or not. Virgina Loseso was the chairman of Scientific Galaxy and she was a piece of work. Most of the men called her Virgin Lost Ass, but not to her face. She was not the kind of woman one would criticize and expect to work for, or in Roger’s case, sell a story line to. The scuttlebutt was Virgina had blackmailed her way to the top of the company.

Roger was sure she had climbed to the top over the bodies of those who opposed her. She was cold, conniving, ruthless to the extreme, and cruel. He was also positive the corrupt spelling of her name from Virginia to Virgina was intentional on her mother’s part. Mom must have sensed her baby daughter was going to be a bitch when she was born.

Virgina kept up a constant attack on Roger’s draft and story line. Everyone knew it was the first draft of a fictional story to Scientific Galaxy. A first draft always has a few rough spots. They are smoothed over with hard work and careful editing once the draft is accepted to be printed. Virgina cut Roger’s draft apart with criticism as she picked at the loose ends as one would pick at a loose thread on a garment until the whole garment is ruined.

As he rode in the taxi out to the airport, Roger had a vision of Virgina Lost Ass being the lead character in his story. That would take some of the starch out of her sheets. Or in her case, probably her shorts. Roger was positive she starched her shorts and stuck a corncob up her butt before she came to any of these meetings so she could get in the proper frame of mind before the meeting began.

Before he boarded his flight home, Roger thought briefly about dropping his many months of hard work into the Dumpster. There was a problem with that idea. Airport security had tightened up so much; trash bins were in very short supply. They were guarded with armed guards who wanted to check what was being thrown away by those coming and going. Roger didn’t feel like showing his artwork to some redneck guard who might get the wrong idea and haul Roger off for questioning.

Roger’s flight out of New York was on Atlantic Air. He had no intention on flying first class but it was an odd set of circumstances that put him there. The coach section of Atlantic 241 had been over booked.

The Atlantic Hostess he was looking at would normally have been more than eye pleasing. She was young, above average beauty, and her pink uniform was designed to show off all her assets while not reveling too much. Roger did not appreciate her beauty as he sighed in disgust as he looked at the nametag on the receptionists left shoulder. "Miss…, Janet, I do not mean to be rude but I need to get home. If you can’t get me on this flight please call Southwest or American, or one of the other airlines and see if they have a seat going to Albuquerque, New Mexico."

"Mr. Tanner, I am terribly sorry but your flight was overbooked due to a computer malfunction. It seems the communications between Washington and New York were messed up for a few minutes. When the lines were down the computers could not tell each other how many passengers were purchasing tickets." Janet looked up from her computer to the ticket he was holding in his hand. "I’m terribly sorry sir but all the other airlines are full."

"I’m sorry too. Okay, I expect Atlantic to pay for my hotel, my meals, and my transportation to and from the airport this evening." Roger had a death grip on the ticket in his right hand while he tried to maintain his composure. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered him but the meeting with Virgina Loseso had used up all his goodwill toward mankind. Keeping his cool was getting harder by the minute.

"Excuse me buddy." A man pushed by Roger and dropped a ticket on the counter. "Change of plans. I have to stay over and talk to the engineers and lawyers on our bid for that desalinization plant. They loved our bid but want to know if we can do it for the quoted price without additional cost over runs."

A tall man in a tailored suit, he looked over at Roger after he laid the ticket down on the counter. "I didn’t mean to be pushy but this is a quarter billion dollar job and I must stay here tonight to get it sewn up."

Roger sighed as he sadly shook his head. "I can’t even sell a six thousand dollar idea."

"Six thousand?" The man handed the ticket to Roger. "Here, I don’t know where you’re going but this will get you to Albuquerque."

Roger looked at the ticket. A first class ticket on Atlantic. "But?" He looked up and the man had disappeared in the crowd.

Janet put the ticket number into the computer. "That seat is open, Mr. Tanner. If you like I will reimburse you for the first class ticket you are holding, switch you to that vacancy on your coach ticket with no charge. Would that be okay with you?"

"You mean you are going to put me in first class and give me that man’s refund?" Roger didn’t believe his luck after the rotten treatment he had received from Scientific Galaxy.

"Yes Sir, that is correct." Janet waited for an okay from her previously unhappy customer.

"Uh, okay." Roger was in shock as Janet handed him a voucher for four hundred and thirty one dollars, cashable at any bank.

"Have a pleasant flight, Mr. Tanner." She left her desk and was walking down the aisle.

Roger made the Atlantic terminal for flight two forty one. The lady at the boarding ramp held out her hand. "Your ticket and name sir?"

Roger handed her the ticket that had been given to him by the stranger. "Roger Tanner."

She ran a finger down her monitor screen. "Just a minute Mr. Tanner. I’m sorry sir but coach is full."

"Yes ma’am. Janet at the ticket office said first class had one vacancy." Roger wondered if his good fortune was about to turn to sour grapes again before he ever stepped on the plane?

Karen looked at the ticket number and then rechecked. "Oh, I am so terribly sorry, Mr. Tanner. You are absolutely right. You have been bumped up to first class."

She held his ticket back out to him. "Please have a pleasant flight, Mr. Tanner."

Roger walked into the boarding tunnel without answering. He heard a door shut behind him and Karen was following him though the tunnel. Obviously he was the last passenger. He was looking at his feet as he stepped from the tunnel ramp onto the plane.

"Welcome to Atlantic Airlines, May I see your ticket and have your name, please?"

The voice was ultra soft, feminine with a lilt or musical quality to it. Roger’s head snapped up as he looked to see who was the owner of that beautiful voice. He choked as he was looking at something he had only imagined in his dreams. She was a dark eyed beauty with almond skin, long black hair, a body that had more serious curves than the Indy 500 was. The little pink uniform over her white blouse was a mind blower. The other Atlantic stewardess’ were above average pretty. This one was a mind killer.

When she asked him a second time for his ticket, he realized he had been staring. "Uh, yeah, I’m sorry, here." Roger handed her his ticket.

"And your name sir?" She was smiling at him as if she was sharing a private joke between the two of them.

"Which one? I mean…, Tanner. Er…, Roger…, Tanner. I guess. I mean…," Roger couldn’t take his eyes off this vision of lovely in front of him. He didn’t know God made creatures like her. Up until now, he thought women who looked like her were the pictures drawn from men’s creative imagination.

She ran a finger down her list. "I show you back in coach. We are already full there."

Bridget looked up at Karen standing behind Mr. Tanner. "I see you locked up the ramp. Mr. Brevers isn’t boarding?"

Karen shook her head and stepped up beside Bridget as Roger moved over out of her way. "Mr. Tanner has replaced Mr. Brevers in first class."

Roger’s heart melted when Bridget gave him a warm smile. "I’m sorry to have kept you standing there, Mr. Tanner. Your seat is number ten." She pointed to the empty seat by the window, second row back.

"Thank you." Roger worked his way back to his seat as Bridget closed up the door.

The man in the seat next to Roger was a tall, young, slight built man. The young man nodded a greeting as Roger settled in.

Atlantic was soon in the air headed toward a stop in St. Louis, Tulsa, and Albuquerque before it reached its destination at LA. Roger had turned down any offers for any drinks. He only drank a little wine on special occasions and this certainly wasn’t an occasion to be celebrating.

The young man noticed Roger was almost drooling every time Bridget walked by or stopped to ask if they would like a movie, refreshments, a pillow, or anything in particular. Bridget walked by going up to the cockpit, her hips swaying gracefully with each step on her two-inch heels.

Roger had to capture her. He pulled his briefcase out from under his seat and took out paper and charcoal. Quickly he made several primary sketches of her as he watched her fix refreshments for the pilots or walk toward the rear of the plane to take care of a passenger. It didn’t take long for Roger to decide which basic sketch he liked the best. He flipped the page on his sketchpad and pulled a couple pencils out of his inside jacket pocket. He began drawing in detail as the woman in his mind’s eye came alive on his sketchpad.

The young man beside Roger watched as Roger transferred Bridget to his sketchpad. Roger was quick with the sketches. The exact portrait of Bridget took a lot longer. It was like watching a Polaroid slowly develop in a black and white image. They were still minutes out of Albuquerque and Roger was adding minute detail to his drawing of Bridget.

"She’s a very beautiful lady."

"Who? Oh…, yes she is. I’ve never seen one who has it all together like she has. It was as if she was…," Roger was searching for the right word.

"Perfect?" The young man finished.

"Yeah, I mean she’s so…, perfect. I bet she has a couple thousand boy friends scattered from here to Timbuktu." Roger glanced over at the young man to make sure he was in agreement.

"Actually, she has only one boy friend." The young man turned his head to look at Roger.

"One? Only one? The guy must look like John Wayne, Errol Flynn, and all the other leading men."

Thinking about it, Roger gave the young man his full attention. Roger was thinking he may have been suckered in. How could the guy know anything about the beautiful hostess? True, when she stopped at their seats the guy seemed to be on more than casual terms but …, "You aren’t going to tell me you are her boyfriend?"

"Me? Not in a million years. The pilot is her boyfriend. His name is Sam. They usually fly together." He held out his hand. "By the way, my name is Mike."

Roger reached over and took the offered hand in a handshake. "I would hope you’re Mike, since that is the name Bridget has been calling you for the past few hours. I’m Roger. How do you know so much about her?"

"I was around when she was starting out." Mike laughed as if the joke was a private one.

"I see." Roger dropped the hand as he turned back in his seat. The world was full of Mikes. Young studs claiming to know every good looking woman. They usually claimed to have taken all of them to bed. Roger figured that would be the next story out of Mike’s mouth. Bridget had called Mike by name the few times she had stopped by their seats. But then she called Roger by his name too. Obviously the woman was not only ‘wow’ in the figure department, she also was ‘wow’ in the brains department and remembered everyone’s name on the plane.

Mike pushed his call button. Bridget came back out of the cockpit and walked up to Mike’s seat. "What do you need, Mike?"

Mike winked at Bridget as a smile spread across his face. "My friend here was wanting to ask you for a date."

Roger’s heart jumped up in his throat. He knew it wasn’t possible. But, even thinking he could date this beautiful creature was enough to jump start his engine.

"Mr. Mike James Shepard, what are you trying to pull? You mess with me and I’ll tell Morgan on you. After she gets through with you, then I might ask Sam to defend my honor." Bridget gave Mike a frown as put her fists on her hips. Slowly a smile gave her true feelings away.

She looked over at Roger. "Mr. Tanner, I’m engaged to our pilot. You might take a good look at Mike because after this flight he is going to be dead meat."

Roger was convinced the stewardess and Mike knew each other before he left the plane. It didn’t mean much though. She was one more beautiful woman he would never see again in this lifetime, he was sure. Except for his drawing of the black haired beauty she would be a memory, thought of often.

It had been cold in New York when Roger had left the offices of Scientific Galaxy. He was glad to get back home where most people would say it was hot. He lived in south New Mexico near Las Quados right on the Mexican border. Back in his small adobe home, Roger walked into the second bedroom he used as a studio and tossed the portfolio for his story line over in the corner.

It took thirty seven days of walking or riding the desert around his home before Roger was ready to give his story line some polish before asking a publisher to look at it again. Roger needed inspiration. He saddled up Pal, his black stallion and rode him into town. It would have been quicker and easier to drive the jeep the ten miles to town but Roger loved ridding. It gave him time to think and contemplate as he looked at the scenery. Most people would have asked "what scenery?" in a desert. Pal liked the trips to town. He would receive a treat from Diane. Roger stopped at the laundry mat and put a notice on the bulletin.

MODEL WANTED

NO EXPERIENCE

FEMALE PREFERRED

NO SEX OPEN MIND

ROGER TANNER

There was no need of a phone number or an address. Everyone knew everyone in Las Quados. Roger was hoping Cynthia Lusus would answer the ad. Several times she had asked him for work. A beautiful black haired girl, she was seriously endowed for a young woman. Roger had called her family’s home before placing the ad but as his luck would have it, Cynthia had gone to visit relatives in Dallas.

Pal was a block down the street with his head stuck inside the General Store when Roger walked back out of the laundry mat. Roger knew Diana had probably gave Pal his favorite treat, an icecream bar. She had ruined his horse. Pal thought every time he came to town he should get a treat. And he was right. Diana always gave Pal something.

Shaking his head, Roger walked off down the street to retrieve his horse for the ride home.

Roger was still sleeping when there was a light knock on his door. He opened his eyes and stared at the clock. It was five after five and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. Roger rolled over in bed, closed his eyes and heard another light knock. He tried to ignore them. Probably a bunch of wetbacks wanting food or a place to spend the night away from the border patrol.

There was another light knock.

Roger sat up in bed and stared out the window. "Go out to the barn and sleep with the horse."

They knocked again.

"Shit!" Roger got up and pulled on a shirt as he headed for the front door. He flung it open. "Didn’t…,"

There was a tall statuesque black haired beauty standing there in front of him. Roger choked as his mind worked feverishly to get up and running. "Uh, you…, that is…, could….,"

She smiled and laughed as she held up something in her left hand. She was holding his ad she had removed from the bulletin board. "You are looking for a model, no?"

Roger blinked as he stared. This woman was most definitely a model. She would put any model he had ever seen to shame. "Uh…, yes…, but… There has been a misunderstanding. I was looking for someone who wanted to model. I can’t afford a professional model."

She held up her right hand and placed it in the middle of Roger’s chest. She pushed him back out of the doorway as she stepped inside his house. She was staring into his eyes. "No mistake. I am not a professional model. We will work together. I need a job, you need a model."

Mike stared. He was sure when he woke up; this vision of lovely would be gone as a dream.

The woman walked across the room her hips rolling with each step beneath her skintight jeans. Her boot heels clicking lightly on the tile floor with each step. She was either wearing heels or boots with a stiletto heel but it was impossible to tell as her pants leg flared at the bottom and was almost touching the floor. She had small, boyish hips and was squeezed in her jeans tighter than toothpaste. The blue silk blouse could have been painted on it was so tight.

Roger squeezed his eyes tightly closed, knowing she would be gone when he opened them again. Nope, she had stepped into his kitchen. He dumbly followed her into the kitchen where she had one of his sketchpads open on the table. He had left it there after working into the wee hours of the morning last night.

"Interesting." She turned the pages, stopping to look at some a little longer than others.

Roger still hadn’t comprehended what she was looking at, as he was too busy looking at her. She was wearing a long sleeve silk blouse that was shear. Her black brassier was so plainly visible; she might as well have not been wearing a blouse. She was one tall girl; slender built to the extreme.

"Uh, I really can’t afford to pay you a whole lot. I was thinking of hiring someone for forty dollars a session." Roger knew that would end this dream as she turned and walked back out of his life the same way she came in.

"How many hours?" She never looked up as she turned the pages on his sketchpad.

"I…, It depends. Half a day or more. Usually more. I get an idea and need someone to help make the idea work so I need someone to pose. If it comes together for me then possibly an hour more or less is all it takes. If I have to work to make the idea feasible then it could take all day." Surely she wouldn’t accept his offer.

She opened up the sketchpad. It was the drawing Roger had worked on last night. She studied it before turning it toward Roger. "These the kind of poses you are looking for?"

Roger’s face tuned beet red as he glanced down at the drawing she had referred to. He knew she would be gone like one of the dust devils that whirled across the afternoon desert. "It’s one of my ideas."

He pointed to the bulletin board ad she had laid down on the kitchen table. "Would you please put it back when you go back to town?"

"I’m not going back to town. Where do you work at?" She had turned her full attention toward Roger.

Roger’s face was a reflection of his feelings. He was stunned. "You mean you still want to model for me?"

She put a long slender finger with a long sharp fingernail on the ad. "You said no sex. That also goes for no pain. I’m not into that sort of thing. You don’t hurt me."

"uh…, of course! I’m not into that myself." Roger couldn’t believe she was agreeing to model for him after all this.

"Good, when do we start?" She was carefully watching his eyes.

"uh, ah…, I wasn’t…, I mean…, awhile to get ready…"

A smile spread across her beautiful face. "I see. You work better in the morning or afternoon?"

"Both. I mean some mornings I get up and nothing clicks and other days I can’t quit until I’m so tired I don’t make it to bed." Roger had stepped up to the table to get a closer look at the black haired beauty. She had almond shaped black eyes, hinting at Asian ancestry. Her skin was so smooth and perfect he was sure she was hidden under heavy makeup. On close inspection she was wearing very little makeup. All her beauty was her and didn’t come out of a tube or a can.

The woman pointed at the centerfold picture Roger had sketched. "She’s very pretty."

Embarrassed, Roger looked at his feet, out the kitchen window, and glanced back into the living room before he answered. "I saw her on a plane. I didn’t intend to use her that way. I mean…, I never asked for permission. No one was supposed to see that. It was for my pleasure. I didn’t intend for it to be seen."

"But of course. Which means after you are finished with me I won’t be decorating the side of a bus or looking out from sleaze magazine. You will change the pictures enough where I won’t be ashamed to walk down the street?" Her black eyes were staring at him waiting for an answer.

"No, I mean yes…, I mean. I change my pictures from the actual subjects or people I work with." He was having a hard time getting his mouth and his mind on the same subject. The woman may have been slender built but her beauty was breath taking.

She flipped back over to the back page of the sketchpad and pointed to one of the pictures. "You have these?"

Roger glanced at the pictures he had sketched. He swallowed. "I don’t have a lot of it. Some of it’s in the barn with Pal. Most of it was only an idea."

"You think what you have would fit me?" Her eyes were fixed on Roger when she asked the question.

Roger’s heart jumped up in his throat. He never expected to find someone who would model his fantasy, much less one who would be so direct. "i…, i…., i…, er, ah, I don’t know."

She nodded. "Do you use a use a camera for your work?"

"uh, at times. I mean, only if I can’t get what I want or I’m rushed and losing the light or the subject is moving and I can’t draw it the way I want in time." Roger was perspiring in the cool desert morning air.

"Do you want to do some preliminary work this morning to see what you need or how you would like to proceed?" She picked up the sketchpad and was holding it in her right hand.

"I guess. I mean sure. Okay. Let me get some pants on and I’ll meet you in the barn." Roger waited for an answer.

She nodded as she walked past him with his sketchpad in her hand. Her heels clicking on the tile floor.

When she passed him he smelled wildflowers and the unmistakable scent of a woman. A very beautiful woman with long black hair that hung down past her hips. Roger ran for the bedroom to find his pants and shoes.

When he walked into barn he saw her over in front of Pal’s stall petting his nose. His stall door was open. She could have opened it or Pal could have. Pal had figured out years ago when he was a young colt how to open his stall door. Roger didn’t care. He knew when he came out to the barn Pal would be there or he soon would be back from one of his adventures. The black stallion knew where home was.

"Beautiful." Her lilting voice was pleasing to his ears.

"Yes, they are." He was thinking how beautiful she was standing next to Pal. A beautiful woman, a beautiful horse. They complimented one another.

She giggled. "We thank you."

"My pleasure I assure you."

Roger walked to the back of the breezeway and pulled a dusty sheet off a sulky. "I bought this at a ranch sale a few years back."

Reaching down he dragged a wood box out from under the railings. He opened it up and held up a bridle and harness. "I’m afraid there isn’t a whole lot that will work."

Roger laid a martingale, bridle, and a harness out on the top of the sheet he had laid on the floor after pulling it off the sulky.

The woman shook her head. "Not exactly designed like you had drawn. I think you need some help."

Quickly Roger looked up at the woman. "I’m a little short on funds. I spent most of the year working on a story that didn’t sell. I don’t know how long I can afford you. Even at forty dollars a session it’s going to go quickly."

She walked over and picked up the bridle and held the bit up to her mouth. "What do you need a model for if you don’t have a complete picture. Is this how you want me to pose?"

"No, I mean, it was an idea. I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry I took up your time. It was a mistake." Roger could see he had made an error in looking for a model when he really didn’t have any of the equipment for her to work with.

"I know a man who can help you. He lives in Mexico. Would you care to take your ideas and drawing to him and see if he can make what you want?"

Roger was shaking his head no when she put the bridle in her mouth and clamped down with her teeth.

He was sure the world had stopped along with his heart. He only heard the roar in his ears as his eyes focused on the black haired beauty with the bit in her teeth. She was racing with the wind, her hair flowing out behind her as the sound of her hooves made a stucco rhythm on the roadway. Her hips swinging gracefully with each…,

"Then it’s settled? We will drive down to see the craftsman."

Roger blinked; it had been all in his mind. He had to see if he could make it a reality no matter the cost. "Yes."

"When?" She was waiting for a time.

"Could we do it now? As soon as I pack a few clothes? Or, I’m sorry, you probably have things to do?" You could give me his address and I could drive down myself." Roger was calculating the miles and roads in his mind waiting to figure out how long it would take to drive down to see the craftsman.

She laughed. "I thought I was the model? I think I should go along to make sure things will fit."

Swallowing, Roger nodded in agreement. "But of course. I hadn’t thought about that. I guess we are back to the time. When would it be okay for you?" He was hoping she didn’t say it would be a month or two. By that time she could possibly be out of the mood or have moved on.

"Right now? I’m packed. How about you?" She laid the bridle down on the sheet before walking out the barn door.

Thirty minutes later Roger had tossed extra hay into Pal’s feeder, stuffed clothes in an old duffel bag, and the two of them were headed south in his jeep. They were headed for a low water crossing into Mexico. He probably should have drove the fifty miles east to the border crossing but it would have taken a couple extra hours and then there were a million questions customs wanted to ask before they went into Mexico.

The woman directed Roger across several cattle guards, a lot of back roads, and through the driveway of a ranch house before they were up on a paved road. Over a hundred miles and many hours later she had him turn off the highway onto a dirt road headed into the badlands.

They wound their way into the canyons for miles and Roger was beginning to question the sanity of this idea. Granted the woman left her Lamborghini in his driveway but this could be a ruse to get his jeep. If someone killed him in this part of the world, who would know? He was ready to stop and turn around when they came upon a little village in the middle of god only knew where.

The woman pointed to a Cantina. "They have rooms there."

He pulled up in front of it beside the mules and donkeys. "Where are we?"

"Mexico." She swung her legs out and reached back in for her soft bag and purse.

"I know that. Where in Mexico?" Roger admired her figure as she was sliding her purse strap upon her shoulder.

"You may have the kidneys of a truck driver and don’t need relief but I do. Meet me at one of the tables in forty minutes." She turned and walked into the Cantina

"Wait." Roger grabbed his duffel bag and walked into the open door of the Cantina.

An old man was sitting at a table eating. A beautiful slender, tall Spanish woman was sweeping the floor. There was an open door leading to the left and one at the back. The room was otherwise empty. "Where did she go?"

The old man never looked up. The woman kept on sweeping, Roger tried again. "Uh, comprende senorita, poor fa vor, senore."

The woman pointed to the door to his left with her broom. "Si, Senorita."

"Por fa vor." Roger headed for the door.

"Kom is ta, amigo. You need a room?" A man was behind a table in the middle of a hallway.

"Si, I need a room. Did a Senorita come this way?" Roger looked at the man. Obviously not the Hotel Ritz but he had been in worse. The place looked clean.

"Senorita is in second door down hall. Your room will be the first door. You have dinaro?" The man held out his hand.

"Yes, how much?" Roger reached into his pocket and waited. He didn’t want to show the man money until he was told prices. In these kinds of places the prices fluctuated depending on how much the traffic would bear.

"Ten American Dollars for six nights." The man waited with his hand held out.

He almost had his money out when he stopped. "Bath and meals? How much?"

"Thirty American Dollars for six nights?" The man motioned he wanted money to grace his palm.

"And the woman?"

"Price for two people for six nights. You have other women?" The man looked up at Roger to see if he had miscalculated the number of people.

"No others." Roger counted out thirty dollars and dropped it in the man’s open hand.

Magically the money disappeared. "First door. Two meals a day."

Roger wasn’t sure he wanted to stay when he dropped his duffel bag in his room. It had a pan for a sink, a pitcher for water. That water was for washing and drinking he was sure. There was a bedpan for nighttime emergencies. That meant the bathroom was an outhouse in back. Roger shook his head. He had been in worse places.

He was back in the Cantina before forty minutes were up. The woman walked in wearing a poncho that draped down to her knees. She was wearing high-heeled black boots. Roger did a double take. It wasn’t the five-inch stiletto heel that caught his attention; it was the silver spurs she was wearing. Cowboys wore spurs a lot of the time in Roger’s part of the world. The thing was, their rowels were blunt or rounded. In spite of what non-cowboys thought, spurs were more for decoration and nothing more. Only the cowboy who had a mean streak wore a spur with a sharp rowel designed to punish a horse as the cowboy tried to inflict pain. Cowboys would never admit they usually wore spurs to hear them jingle as they walked. That wouldn’t be the big tough cowboy image most everyone thought of.

She motioned with her left hand for Roger to follow as she walked out the front door.

He caught up with her halfway down the street. He could have been blind and followed her. The jingle of her spurs with each step was plan as thunder in the sleepy little village. They passed a couple stores before she turned and walked into the cool shadows of an open door.

"This is where the craftsman lives. Raul, I brought you a customer."

Roger stepped inside the door and stopped. He wasn’t sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. There were silver bridles, Conchos, and spurs hanging on the wall to his right. An ornate tool engraved saddle with silver trim on a rail further back. A plain working saddle to the left of the first. On the left side of the room were workbenches and tools.

An old man came into the room from a doorway at the rear. "Ah, Senorita Toesta, how good of you to stop by and let these tired old eyes see you again. How have you been? Why do you not come and see me more often?"

She pointed back at Roger. "I brought you a customer."

He looked up at Roger and wiped his hands together. "I see. So what is it you need, Senor? You wish a bridle for your horse or a saddle maybe? Are you looking for spurs or maybe something else?"

The woman slid her right hand out from under her poncho and held out Roger’s sketchpad. The one that had been lying on his kitchen table that morning. She flipped to the back pages. "This is what he would like for you to make for him."

Roger was obviously shocked and the old man obviously wasn’t.

The old man nodded. "I see. I can do that. Very interesting idea."

He looked up at the woman. "And who is going to be wearing my work?"

"Me."

Roger wasn’t sure if he saw a hint of a smile on her face or not.

"I will be paid double for my skill then shan’t I. When do you require the product?" He looked over at Roger.

"As soon as you can." It was the woman who answered the old man.

The old man reached out and took the sketchpad. "I shall begin immediately. I need measurements."

She lifted the poncho over her head and Roger choked. She was wearing black boots and spurs, spandex tight jeans, and a white blouse that was painted on. When she unbuttoned her blouse and laid it off to the side with her poncho, his mouth fell open.

Roger wasn’t sure he slept at all that night. He lay awaked thinking of the woman the old man called Toesta. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. Other men could admire their boob babes who had basketball size breasts. Roger wasn’t into breasts as the point of attraction for women. Some men thought wide hips made a female sexy. Roger didn’t buy that one either. The small waist? That was a take it or leave it option as far as Roger was concerned. What made a beautiful woman in Roger’s mind was the total package. And he was sure he had seen the ultimate total package.

The next day was a slow starter. Roger was looking at his watch when he managed to pry his eyes open.

"Almost eleven. I’ve killed half the day and haven’t even begun."

He slipped out of bed and felt his face. A half-hour later he had shaved and was wishing for a shower but that would have to wait for tonight. The bath consisted of walking out back to another building where someone would be building a fire under an old bathtub to warm the water. A clean shirt and lots of deodorant would have to substitute.

Roger walked down to the woman’s room and knocked without receiving an answer. He retreated to the room with the tables. Not really a dining room but it was the idea. Finding a chair at one of the three tables he waited.

The tall woman he had seen sweeping the day before approached him. "Lunch." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Roger nodded. "Si, lunch. What do you have?"

She left. Roger figured she had forgot him before she returned with a plate of brown beans, tortillas, peppers, and warm milk.

"Senorita?" Roger wanted to know about the woman before he ate.

"Si, senorita." The woman turned and left.

Roger was wishing he had practiced his Spanish a little harder. Most of the locals didn’t speak English and he most certainly had a very limited vocabulary of Spanish. He finished his meal before walking back to the woman’s room and knocking. With no response he decided to walk down to see what the old man was doing.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he walked into the old man’s shop. The woman’s back was to him but she was obviously naked from the waist up. Her long black hair hung freely down her back. The old man was doing something in front of her face.

"I tried knocking on your door but there was no answer. Have you eaten yet? I had some brown beans and they were great."

The old man shook his head. "She can not answer you as I have fitted the bridle. Would you care to look?"

"Uh, you sure she won’t mind?" Roger wasn’t sure he should be looking or not.

Laughing, the old man nodded. "You are a strange one. It is your ideas and you are not sure you should look? Unless I am mistaken senior, she will not be able to put the bridle and harness on or take them off by herself. That was the idea was it not? If I am mistaken and have not interpreted your drawings right then please tell me now."

"Well, yes, it was the intention. You don’t want your PonyGirl running off." Roger felt embarrassed to be sharing so much of his drawings with the old man. Before when he was doing the drawings he felt it was a great idea. Now he felt unsure.

"Then come up here and see if I am following your drawings as you wish." The old man smiled as he stepped back from the woman.

Roger walked around in front of the woman and blinked in an emotional rush. The woman was wearing a silver bridle. Her long hair hid the leather strap going around the back of her head that held it in her mouth. There was a silver chain fastened to the bridle at each side of her mouth, formed a wye up to the bridge of her nose where a single silver chain went between her eyes and over the back of her head. Obviously it fastened to the strap that went around her head. She had a silver chain that hooked to both sides of the mouthpiece and circled under her chin.

The old man reached up and put a finger in one of the bridle bars where the reins would fasten. "Bridles for people and those for horses are not the same. The roller fits between the cheek and the teeth and crosses at the back of the mouth, where a bit is attached. If a person still has their wisdom teeth then there is no room for the roller behind the teeth in the back of the mouth. The majority of you Americans have your wisdom teeth pulled when they start coming in so a bridle fits nicely without pulling teeth."

Roger admired the intricate craftsmanship of the bridle and the design engraved in it. He was also admiring the woman. She was so beautiful.

Six days later, they were headed back to New Mexico. Sharra was giving directions to Roger, which roads he should be taking. Roger had learned that much about her during the stay. His drawings had come to life for six hundred dollars. Roger was well pleased. The old man had done a lot better job then Roger could have imagined.

Once home, Roger pulled out his billfold and retrieved three hundred and twenty dollars. His finances were thinning. He handed the money out to the woman. "I’m sorry there isn’t more but we agreed on forty dollars a session be it an hour or a day. You have been with me eight days. I owe you three hundred and twenty dollars."

Sharra looked at the money and then up at Roger. "When would you like to try out your equipment?"

His heart leapt up in his throat. He was unsure if he wanted to proceed now that he had come this far. "Uh, when you feel like it, I guess."

"Now?" She waited for an answer before getting out of his jeep.

"It’s been a long day. Are you sure? I mean, anytime." Roger was hoping she would but it had been a long day. Surely she wanted a rest.

"Let me go take a nature break and I’ll be back."

Roger watched her walk into the house, his heart racing a hundred miles an hour. He figured he was more scared about this than she was. He got out and walked around to the back of the jeep and lifted out the wooden box. Carefully he carried it to the barn, opened it up and waited.

She walked out of the house and up to the barn. "You want me to help with the hooves or do you want to do it all?"

"If you don’t mind, I could use help." He pulled the boots out of the box. They pointed down to a hoof with small horseshoes on the ends.

"Sure." She closed the lid on the box and sat down, pulling her own high-heeled boots off and slipped on the leather boots, her foot pushed straight down ballerina style into the hoof part of the boots. She tightened the lacing on the side until the boot could not slip on her leg. Sharra stood up on hooves and began removing her clothes.

"Uh, for now, could you leave on the panties and bra?" Roger was shaking all over.

"As you like." She slipped off her blouse and her jeans.

Roger opened the box and stared. "What part should I do next?"

"Why don’t you do my hands so I can’t get away and then the bridle." Sharra held out hands.

The silver wrist bracelets easily slipped on and clicked shut with the precision of the craftsman that made them. He pulled her hands behind her back and locked her wrists together.

"Open, please." When she opened her mouth, he slipped the bridle in and gently pushed to make sure it was in proper before he lifted her hair and pulled the strap around the back of her head. The chains over the bridge of her nose and between her eyes were next. Then the chin chain.

"Nod your head if I hurt you." He snapped a two-inch intricately engraved wide silver band around her neck and it snicked shut. He lifted her arms up behind her and fastened a short silver chain to a loop on the back of the neckband.

"You okay?" Roger wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurting. The position he pulled her arms up looked painful to him. Funny but it looked great when he was drawing these kinds of pictures of PonyGirl. He knew the mind never got the full impact of an imagination extreme until one tried the fantasy. That was the reason he needed a model. He wanted to make sure the idea worked.

Sharra could moan but talking was out of the question with that bit in her mouth. Guttural sounds were the limit. She couldn’t move her tongue around to form the words. She was also beginning to drool. The bit caused the mouth juices to flow and kept her lips from closing.

"You ready?" Roger took the reins and led Sharra fifty or sixty feet out in the desert. He dropped down to his knees and put the hobbles on her ankles so she couldn’t run off.

He left her there as he went to get his notes and sketchpad from his workshop. When he returned, Pal was standing beside his PonyGirl. It was a contrast Roger had never considered drawing but here it was, and it was great. Roger set up his chair, his easel and got busy. Pal had to be first because he might decide to move away.

It had grown dark and the desert was turning cold when Roger noticed Sharra was shivering. "I’m sorry. I forgot. You’re cold of course. I bet you’re hungry and need a break. Let’s get you out of that getup."

Minutes later he had led her back to the barn with Pal following along. It only took a few minutes to remove her harness and bridle. He noticed she was having trouble moving her arms. "I guess they are numb from being pulled up behind your back. We won’t do that any more. I’m sorry I made you stand there for so long. You should have told me you were chilling."

She glanced sideways at him as she slipped her blouse on. "Talking isn’t an option in that rig. Did you get your drawing finished?"

"Almost, I will have to finish it up tonight but it was great. Pal was the added bonus. He made the drawing come to life." Roger was down on his knees helping removed her hooves.

"I’m glad I could be a part of that. When will you need me again? Tomorrow?" She slipped on her skintight jeans, blouse, and then her high heeled boots after she removed the spurs.

"Oh no, I have enough here to keep me busy for a week. Come back a week from today and we will work on another part of PonyGirl’s attire." Roger picked up PonyGirl’s bridle and boots and carefully packed it all back in the box.

"I’ll have the sulky ready by then." He turned to look at Sharra wondering if she would ever come back after tonight?

"Sounds like a plan. You going to use the rings?" She laid her right hand over her right breast.

"I’m not comfortable with that idea. It looks great on paper but…, I think I can work around it." Roger felt embarrassed again.

"We’ll see. Next week then. What time?" She was waking out of the barn with Pal walking along at her back.

Roger had never seen his horse take to a stranger like that but then he had never seen a woman like Sharra. "When ever you get here. I’ll be ready."

She raised her right hand in acknowledgement before she slid into the Lamborghini and drove off.

Roger stayed up all night working on his story and drawings of PonyGirl. Somewhere about six a.m. he fell asleep, his head resting on top his kitchen table.

It had been a busy week for Roger. He scraped up the last of his savings and flew out to Los Angels to meet with Lance-Price Corporation. They were the up and coming publishers of off center stories. They had no niche in the publishing market as they published things most people claimed to never read. Those people made those claims on the questionnaire asking if they read transgender stories. They were also the same people who drove away from home or work, ten miles to the bookstore or convenience store to buy books published by Lance-Price Corporation. For a company that published books no one purchased, an awful lot of Lance-Price books left the shelves. The number of remainders sent back to the company were the envy of every publishing company. The numbers were less than two percent. Those books that no one read were being sold to nobody, obviously.

"There are my preliminary sketches of PonyGirl." Roger set his drawing up on the easel in front of the board members.

The members were all silent as they stared at a drawing. PonyGirl was standing in the desert with a big black stallion beside her. In the distance was a mountain as a backdrop. The whole scene was breath taking. The woman was obviously PonyGirl.

"If you don’t mind, Mr. Tanner. Please leave the room and let us discuss this idea of yours." The woman at the end of the table looked around at the others sitting there.

uh oh, here it comes, the old, ‘sorry but it’s not what we were looking for bit. Roger started to collect his drawings before he left as requested.

"No, no, please leave your drawing, Mr. Tanner. You may leave your storyboard and your manuscript too if you don’t mind." She slid her chair back and stood up.

"uh, sure." Roger blinked as he turned and walked out of the room. Did they like it or were they going to slice and dice him, like that bitch at Scientific Galaxy did? Roger got mad every time he thought about that bitch. Consequently, he tried real hard to not think about her.

The secretary outside the boardroom looked up at Roger. "Yes…, okay…, I’ll tell him."

"Mr. Tanner, the board has made a decision and would like you to return."

Roger’s insides turned to Jell-O. This was a make or break situation for him. His money was almost gone. He was going to have to sell his property and find a job. That meant a job in some big city, commuting to work everyday, sitting behind a desk and drawing sketches for another person’s ideas. That person would be someone like him who managed to sell his or her story.

He closed the door behind him as he walked into the boardroom. No one was smiling but they weren’t frowning or scowling at him either.

The woman had Roger’s drawing lying on the table in front of her. "It’s a little further out then we like to publish…,"

Roger’s heart sank. He knew it. Now comes the part where she says, ‘thank you for stopping, please bring back any new ideas you may have in the future’

"However, we are not completely without courage to push the envelope. Your PonyGirl is acceptable to us. The story is a little rough and too much sadism. Can you lighten it up a little? Leave out the sexual playthings? No dildo or butt things. If PonyGirl sells, you can start pushing the envelope yourself. In moderation of course."

"You will buy the story?" Roger couldn’t believe it. Nine months of his life was poured into PonyGirl and he was beginning to believe he had made a mistake going down this path.

"We will buy it." She nodded at the man next to Roger.

The man handed Roger a stack of legal forms. "The standard contract. No plagiarism. No copying someone’s ideas. This is your idea alone or if you had collaboration then the others must sign and agree to the terms. Take it home and read it over. Have your lawyer take a look . Bring it back with a notarized signature and you are the author of PonyGirl series.

Roger got on the plane and flew back to Albuquerque never thinking about the flight or where he was. He had one goal. Get home and work on the PonyGirl story.

That night, at his kitchen table, Roger went over the contract. It was a standard publisher’s contract and there was no legalese in there that was couched in vague terms. Roger filled out the forms and stuck them in a manila envelope. If Ms. Sharon Clawson at Lance-Price accepted his contract, then by this time next week Roger could stop worrying about bills.

He took the contract and walked out to the barn. Pal was no where to be seen. Roger dug down into the bottom of the grain bin and retrieved a bottle of Morgan David wine. It was cheap wine but what the hell, it was wine and he felt like celebrating. He worked the plastic cork out and took a big swig.

Bottle in hand, Roger walked out to the front of the barn and put his tongue up against his teeth and whistled. "Where you at Pal? I need someone to celebrate with me."

Two hours and an empty bottle later, Roger was passed out on the ground. Pal walked up and nudged Roger in the back. He kept nudging Roger.

"Go away. I drank the whole damn bottle myself. You’re too late." Roger rolled over on his back to look up at Pal.

Pal nudged Roger again and again before Roger gave up and in a drunken stupor stumbled into the house. Pal was satisfied his friend would be okay. He trotted back out into the desert.

"ooooooohhhhh" Roger was holding his head under the sink as water ran across his head and neck.

Finally he had more than he could take and straightened up. Looking into the mirror was of little help. He was looking at seriously bloodshot eyeballs. "Damn horse could have been there to help me drink that damn bottle and I wouldn’t have needed to do it all by myself."

Roger remembered why he drank the bottle and started looking for the publishing contract before he vaguely remembered something about taking it to the barn to show Pal. He pushed open the screen door and stumbled out of the house. When the screen door slammed shut behind him it felt like someone had dropped an anvil on his head. "ooooooooohhhhhh"

Roger stopped in front of his jeep and laid his throbbing head down on the hood as he bent over the jeep. "oooooooohhhhhhhh, I am gonna have a heart to heart talk with that damn horse. He wasn’t holding up his end of the drinking. I had to do it for both of us. Next time, no more mister nice guy. I ain’t drinking his share."

Pal was nudging Roger in the back.

"Go away you, Benedict Arnold. I don’t need your help this morning." Roger was holding his head. He didn’t know if he wanted it to fall off or if he wanted it to stay on. Either way would suit him just fine.

Pal nudged Roger again.

"Would you mind? You keep pushing me and I’m going to vomit all over you." Roger slowly, gently, and carefully turned his head to look at his friend.

Pal was holding Roger’s publishing contract in his mouth.

"Good, I see you have looked it over. What do you think?" Pal was shaking his head yes as Roger slowly reached out and took the manila envelope.

"Thanks, never hurts to have a second opinion. I’ll drive into town and drop it off at the post office." Roger gingerly walked around to the side of his jeep and even more slowly climbed in.

"oh god…., uuuuuuuggggggggg….." Roger had his head hanging over the side as he up chucked all over the ground.

Roger slid back out of the seat and laid the envelope up on the hood. "Take that to the post office and don’t spend too much at the general store…., uuuuuuuuuggggggggg"

Roger headed for the bathroom. Things were coming on both ends. He stopped at his front door. "uuuuuuuuggggggggggg"

"Hi Pal. What do you have for me? Is that to be mailed?" Diane watched as Pal stuck his nose up in the door of her store. McKesson’s General Store was a post office, grocery store, feed store, drug store, veterinarian supplies, and not least, the store for everyone to stop at and gossip.

Diane walked over to the freezer. "What will it be today? You want the usual?"

Pal shook his head up and down.

"Okay, one ice cream sandwich coming up." She reached into the freezer and picked up an ice cream bar. She took the wrapper off of it as she walked to the front door. Taking the envelope from Pal, she handed him the ice cream sandwich in return.

"Tell Roger I’ll stamp it and mail it and he owes me." She reached up and scratched Pal behind the ears.

He shook his head yes before he turned around and trotted off.

"Damn horse thinks he a dog." Came from the other side of the room where several men were in a group.

Laughing as she carried the envelope back to her counter, Diane looked over at Lynn. "Pal is a lot smarter than any dog. You know what your problem is, Lynn? You are jealous. You want a horse that is half as intelligent as Pal and you know you ain’t ever going to find one."

Lynn looked up sharply at Diane as she walked behind her counter. "That ain’t true. I had a horse a hell of a lot smarter than Pal. Why…, me and him were out in the cuts one day when this big ol rattler attacked me and…,"

One of the other men slapped Lynn on the back. "Yeah we know, Lynn. Heard the story a hundred times already. Is that the one where you were bitten and you horse stomped the snake and raced you back to the doctor?"

"Uh, yeah, that’s the one." Lynn looked around at the faces looking back at him.

Raymond turned his head and winked at one of the other men. "That ain’t the way I heard it. I heard you fell out of the saddle, your horse picked you up and tossed you back on and carried you back to the doctor."

"well…,"

"Wait a minute. I heard he bit the snake. The horse threw him off and carried the snake back to the doctor." Paul chipped in.

Lynn’s face turned red. "Listen, you guys are getting it all turned inside out. Why my horse was the smartest horse ever born."

"Is that why you sold him? He kept wanting to drive the pickup and you had to hide the keys to keep him out of it?" Paul was pushing the tall tales men always spun when they got started with the yarns.

"Well no, I mean, he could drive and that’s no joke. Why one time…"

Diane shook her head as she stamped Roger’s letter and stopped listening. She had heard these wild fabricated lies too often for them to be worth listening to one more time.

It wasn’t sunup yet and there was a light knock on Roger’s door. He started to tell them to go away when he remembered who knocked like that. "I’M COMING!"

Roger rolled out of bed, slid into his pants, grabbed his shirt and boots and headed for the front door, hoping he hadn’t been dreaming about the knock.

She was standing there in the cool morning air looking more beautiful than ever. Pal was standing behind her. Roger shook his head as he opened the door. "Does Pal know you? I’ve never seen him take up with someone like he has you."

She laughed as she headed for the kitchen. "We speak the same language. He likes you a lot. He said you raised him from a colt after his mother was killed. Spent a lot of nights walking the floor with him when he got the colic."

Roger stopped and looked back at Pal who had his head stuck in the doorway. "He told…, No he didn’t. Who told you that story? You been talking to some of the locals down at the store? Who told you that? Ken? Maybe it was Diane?"

Roger followed Sharra into the kitchen. "You had breakfast yet? I can cook a mean egg and my toast isn’t too bad either."

"I’d love some, thanks. Where’s the skillet? I’ll help."

Roger shook his head as she walked over to the stove. Pal wasn’t the only one in love with this woman.

An hour later they were in the barn. The morning sun was beginning to burn off some of the night chill. Sharra had insisted on removing all her clothes and when she did, Roger was shocked. He was wondering who this PonyGirl really was. He thought he had come up with the idea but Sharra seemed determined to go all the way with the fantasy he had drawn. Roger helped her with her hooves and then put the rest of the PonyGirl rig on her. This time, instead of her arms up behind her, they were chained to the nipple rings she had put in the week she was gone.

He wrapped the leather corset around her small waist and cinched it up. He had no idea how she could breathe. It almost cut her in half. She acted as if she might run off. He didn’t mind her running wild like Pal but he was sure she didn’t need to be doing it in the PonyGirl rig. There were silver chains that fastened from her bridle, to her nipples, to her…, And that nose ring had silver chains leading to her breast rings.

Roger wasn’t sure if she could get back up if she fell down. He looped her reins around a stanchion in Pal’s stall to make sure she didn’t run. He uncovered the sulky and moved it up behind her. The rails had been modified to fit into metal latches on each side of the leather corset around waist. All he had to do was get the rail in position and the latch self locked as it snapped closed. Roger untied the reins from the stanchion and led her out of the barn. He kept looking at her eyes to see if she was in any pain but she seemed to be fairing pretty well for the way she was harnessed up. He did notice an extra sway in her fluid walk with the constriction of the leather corset. Later, when he let her out of that PonyGirl harness, they would have a talk about how tight that corset should be.

"You want a drink?" Roger needed her to be comfortable while as he sketched her.

Sharra shook her head no and all her chains jangled.

"Okay, we might as well start." He led her several hundred yards out into the desert. He dropped down to his knees and put the hobbles on her ankles. He took the reins back over her shoulders and looped them to the whip that was on the side of the seat of the sulky.

"Be right back." He walked back to the house to get his sketchpad, easel, seat and pencils.

As he was walking out of the house the sheriff’s car pulled up. Dale opened the door and slid out. "Hi Roger."

Roger took a quick check to see if PonyGirl was visible from where he was standing. She was almost hidden but if she moved she would stand out for sure. Roger walked over behind the sheriff’s car so Dale would be looking the other way when he talked to him. "What brings you out, Dale?"

"Had to serve this, Roger. Sorry." Dale reached back into his patrol car, picked up an envelope off the dash, stepped up in front of Roger, and put a summons in his hand.

"What is it?" Roger looked down at the summons.

"Some company called Scientific Galaxy is suing you for breech of contract or something. I didn’t read it all but they are claiming you are their author and you are trying to sell their story to someone called Lance Price Corporation." Dale looked apologetic as he told what he knew about the summons.

"SHIT! THAT FUCKING BITCH IS TRYING TO SCREW ME. GOD WHAT DID I EVER DO TO THAT WOMAN TO DESERVE THIS1" Roger tossed the summons down on the ground and stomped off before he came back.

"DAMN THAT BITCH ALL TO HELL! IF SHE WANTS TO SCREW ME WHY DOESN’T SHE COME OUT HERE AND DO IT PROPER LIKE? I’LL EVEN BEND OVER AND HAND HER THE DAMN VASOLINE MYSELF." He stormed off again and then came back.

"SCIENTIFIC GALAXY HAS NO CONTRACT WITH ME AND THEY SURE AS HELL DON’T OWN MY STORY! IT’S ALL THAT FUCKING BITCH’S DOING!"

Roger took a couple deep breaths and looked off into the desert for several minutes as his temper settled down. "Sorry Dale, it’s not your fault. But damn it all to hell, she’s going to fuck me over on this. She will take me to court and Lance Price will back up until they see where the legal ball bounces. By the time we get this settled, I’ll be so broke I’ll be too poor to make it into the homeless shelter."

"Dale, I’d offer you a drink but I’m not very good company right now. If you don’t mind, I’d like some time to myself." Roger reached down and picked up the summons out of the dirt.

"Sure, sorry, Roger. I know the feeling." Dale looked over at the Lamborghini parked beside Roger’s jeep.

Roger knew Dale had figured out he wasn’t alone but he didn’t explain.

After Dale left, Roger walked up to the door of his house and tossed the summons on the ground. He kicked his easel and walked out to where he had PonyGirl tethered.

"I’m sorry but I can’t draw anything. I’m too upset. I’m probably finished with PonyGirl. It was an idea that will never bare fruit." Roger reached up and removed the bridle. "I’ll unhook the sulky and pull it back myself."

Sharra shook her head no. "Roger, it’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you play with it a little? I’m still PonyGirl. Let’s go out to the pavement and you get in the sulky."

"I don’t think so. I’ve had my heart and soul removed by a bitch up in New York. It no longer feels right." Roger dropped to his knees and removed her hobbles.

"If you say so." She bolted for the highway that was a couple hundred yards in front of Roger’s house.

"No wait. I don’t want to." Roger reached for the sulky as it passed him.

He was knocked off his feet by Pal following along behind PonyGirl. "Sharra, wait."

Roger got to this feet and ran after her. He could have easily caught her if Pal hadn’t constantly been in the way. He finally caught up with her as she was standing in the middle of the highway. "What did you do that for? I said I don’t want to draw you. In fact I can’t draw you. I don’t have it in me now."

"If you don’t want to draw me then play with me. Put the bridle back on and make me pull you down the highway." She stamped her hooves on the pavement.

"Whatever." Roger fastened the bridle back up in her mouth and climbed up in the seat in the sulky. The rails had stirrups for his feet. Roger picked up the whip and cracked it over PonyGirl’s head as he shook the reins. "Ha, giddy up."

PonyGirl started trotting off down the middle of the highway, her steel horseshoes ringing out a stucco rhyme on the pavement. Roger heard a second familiar clip clop on the pavement. He turned around to see Pal trotting along behind. "You may have to carry both of us home. You sure you want to come along?"

A mile later the highway was blocked by a gate. PonyGirl stopped at the gate. Roger got off and waked up in front of her. "You okay? You want me to take your bridle out or remove any of that, or pull you back in the sulky?"

She shook her head no and nodded toward the gate.

"Yeah, an old missile silo project. After the cold war it came up for auction and I put in a bid for a thousand bucks. Darned if I didn’t buy a missile silo. I guess no one else wanted it or they were afraid they would have to clean it up or something." He shrugged his shoulders.

"You want to go in?" He was looking back at PonyGirl.

She nodded yes.

Roger felt in his pocket for a key and soon had the padlock off the gate. The gate protested with much squealing as he pushed one of them back. He took her reins and led her through before pushing the gate back shut. "No one ever uses the road because it doesn’t go anywhere but here. I don’t want to be unpleasantly surprised. We are taking a big chance with you running down the highway as it is."

Roger led her around the few paved streets surrounding the silo. Her steel horseshoes ringing on the pavement with every step. "They kept it pretty low profile. Not a whole lot above ground but a maze down below."

He walked her over to a concrete bunker and unlocked the door. It was with a huge effort he managed to push it back, as it protested being moved. "There’s an elevator in there big enough to take a truck down. A smaller one for people, I guess. And then there are stairs for emergency if the elevators don’t work."

Roger stopped and stared for a second. "Wish I had that bitch as PonyGirl. I’d bring her in here and run her ass off. Maybe it would work some of the evil out of her. And if it didn’t, it would make me feel a lot better."

"Are you sure you are alright? You want me to do anything for you?" Roger looked back at Sharra as she waited outside the door.

As she shook her head no, her silver chains jangled.

"I guess we better get back. I’ll pull you if you want?" As he was talking, Roger tugged and pulled but he wasn’t getting the door closed. "I’ll come back later with some oil to lubricate the hinges and use the jeep to pull it shut."

Roger took her reins and led her back out the front gate to the highway. After locking the gate he stepped up beside her. "I’ll walk."

She shook her head no which sent her silver chains jingling again.

"You know, you’re more stubborn than me. Okay, this is going to be the last time we get to play so I guess it won’t matter." Roger looped her reins over her shoulders and climbed into the sulky. He put his feet in the rail stirrups and picked up the whip.

"You can walk if you want. Okay, PonyGirl, giddy up." He cracked the whip over her head as he shook the reins.

PonyGirl settled into a trot as her hooves pounded a rhythm on the pavement.

Roger was going to stop where his driveway met the highway but PonyGirl had other ideas. She stepped off the highway and was trotting up his driveway. Roger reined her in. She had no choice but to stop. That bit in her mouth gave no options. When he slacked up on the reins to get off she took off again. Again he pulled back on the reins and again she had to stop. When he slacked off she took off.

"Okay, have it your way." Roger let her have her rein and she trotted into the barn before she stopped.

"Headstrong PonyGirl I can tell. Let’s get you out of that rig. I’ll pay you for coming out. You might as well figure on not coming back. I’ll be selling everything to pay for the lawyers before I have to go find me a job." Roger stepped off the sulky.

He was taking the bridle loose. "I imagine you want this off first so you can close your mouth. Do I need to get you a drink of water first?"

The bridle was in his hands as Sharra shook her head. "No, I will be okay. I couldn’t stop drooling and having to breathe through my mouth dried my throat."

Roger nodded. "I bet. Why didn’t you let me pull you back or at least let me take that bridle out? I didn’t want to hurt you. Are your feet okay? Walking on your toes like that looks painful to me."

"I’m fine. Did you get a feeling for your PonyGirl?" She patiently waited as Roger dropped the latches that locked the sulky rails.

"I guess. For all the good it will do me. Lance Price wouldn’t touch me if I walked into their office with PonyGirl. Until this lawsuit, Miss Lost Ass slapped me with is settled, I’ll be like the plague to the other publishers." Roger pushed the sulky over in the corner and covered it up before turning his attention back to Sharra.

She turned her back to him and he unstrapped the heavy leather corset. Holding it in his hands he was looking at the wrinkles in her skin where it had cinched her in. "How do you breathe in that thing?"

Sharra turned to face him and wiggled her fingers.

"Oh yeah, sorry." He unhooked the chains holding her wrists to her nipple rings and then removed her silver bracelets off her wrists.

He set those back in the box and turned his attention back to Sharra. "Be still a second."

He removed the chains from her nose ring. "Is that tender or do you just know you don’t want to pull on that ring?"

She was removing the chains off her right nipple ring. "Take the left ones off, please."

"Sure." He was finished by the time she had the others off.

"The last one is yours. I think I did enough when I hooked them up."

She bent over and removed the chains from between her legs before she sat down on the wooden box to remove her PonyGirl hooves.

Roger squatted down and removed her left hoof as she took off the right one. "Get dressed and I’ll get your money."

Roger walked into the house and retrieved two hundred dollars out of the cookie jar sitting on the kitchen cabinet. He put it in an envelope and sealed it before picking up a glass of water and walking back to the barn where Sharra was petting Pal. He put the envelope in her hand and handed her the glass of water. "Here. This is for today. There is no need of coming back because I won’t be able to sell the story. Ms. Lost Ass has made sure of that."

Sharra emptied the water as she drank it down. "Boy that was needed. Thanks. You are going to fight her aren’t you?"

Roger sighed, as he looked at the nipple rings plainly visible through Sharra’s white blouse. She was the perfect PonyGirl. Too bad it never got off the ground. Roger even entertained the idea of asking her to marry him but he was dirt poor and fixing to become even poorer. She drove a Lamborghini and he drove a jeep. She was probably some millionaire’s wife, or daughter, or girlfriend. She undoubtedly lived in a penthouse and this was just a kinky adventure to her. He wondered what she would do about the rings once she returned to her world? Would she hide them under a padded bra, show them off to a few of her friends, or have them removed?

"You are going to fight aren’t you?" She repeated as she waited for an answer.

"I have to. I’ll win but by then it won’t mean anything. I’ll be broke; no publisher will touch me for fear of getting slapped with a lawsuit themselves. I’ll fight but it will be meaningless. The bitch will neuter me either way. If she wins, she gets my heart and soul but nothing else because the lawyers will own it all. If I win, she still wins because no one will hire me. The only thing she won’t have is my heart and soul if I win." Sadly Roger shook his head.

Sharra walked to her Lamborghini and left.

She lifted a dress from the rack and looked at it wistfully.

"It’s a good thing we are in San Francisco and not Dallas or Atlanta. I’m not sure those people are ready for someone like you." Came from someone standing behind her.

"Probably not. I need your help." Sharra replaced the dress and turned to look at the beautiful red headed woman that belonged to the voice.

Donna was looking at Sharra’s breasts. "You plan on keeping the rings?"

"Probably not but they are a lot of fun." She studied Donna for a few seconds. "Will you help?"

Donna reached over and took the young girl’s left hand. "Let’s walk."

They were outside headed for nowhere in particular. Donna caught her breath. "Susan, I want you to remember, sometimes even the best of intentions go awry. Have you considered the consequences if your plan doesn’t work? I imagine Virgina Loseso will be more than a little perturbed at being changed into PonyGirl."

Sharra nodded in agreement. "You can bet your lucky dime she’s going to be pissed. I’m hoping she will change her attitude before it’s finished. That woman is mean and cruel. She delights in killing other people’s dreams and their spirit. She’s climbed to the top of an important publishing company leaving a whole lot of human debris in her wake. If anyone deserved to be changed into PonyGirl then she is the prime candidate."

"And if she doesn’t mend her ways, you plan on leaving her as PonyGirl for the rest of her life? That’s a huge commitment for anyone who has to feed her and take care of her. Is Roger up to that kind of commitment? You know his PonyGirl series will be finished sooner or later. Will he still want PonyGirl around if he’s no longer writing novels about her?" Donna stopped walking and turned her full attention to Susan.

Susan gave it some thought. "Morgan taught me a lot. As Mike, I learned what it’s like to be a man. I also learned life is what one makes it, not necessarily what comes at you head on. Virgina may not change her cruel attitude but then we won’t ever know unless we try. Morgan taught me that also."

Susan studied her friend. "I could give Roger the money to fight Virgina. I could even call up Bridget and ask her to loan us one of her company lawyers. I could also ask you to intervene with Lance Price and make them accept Roger’s story in spite of the lawsuit." She looked into Donna’s eyes. "The fact is, none of those things would change Virgina from hurting people. Will you help?"

Donna took Susan’s hand and turned back to the store. "One of these days you will no longer need help. You can already lifeshift on your own. Tell me, do you like being a boy or do you like being a girl better?"

Sharra smiled. "There’s advantages and disadvantages in both. I’m a little more inclined to be girl since I was born as one. There’s one other favor. Get in touch with Marcella and ask her to put a spell on the bridle Raul made for Roger. I want to change Roger into PonyGirl for a little while."

"Roger? What on earth for?" Donna glanced over at Susan wondering what she was up to?

(continued)

 

 

 

*********************************************
© 2002 by Barbie Lee. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.