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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Commercial Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A memory from '65
Invited to a haybarn dance in a Country in Somerset UK..a girl ..a temptress .. a horse . Nationalistic feelings
was it a dream?
You decide

Submitted: August 08, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 08, 2010



My cousin had been competing in a local gymkhana . She had jumped quite well , though even to my untrained eye at  16 she looked quite  like such a slight  figure on this stallion’s back. He was a big brute.
When it came to the jump off between my cousin Sarah and another girl , Sarah had a foot fault at the water hazard and lost the competition .
Her father like mine distained second best , and as I watched the finish with him I saw him just turn and walk out of the fairground when he saw that splash.

Sarah was distraught, she came to where we’d left her
-she’d been crying and she looked away as she asked
- where’s Daddy .
I could see her discomfiture and while I was  regarded as ‘wild ‘ for a 16 year old I empathised with her situation . She was the apple of her father’s eye and she’d let him down.
She handed me the reins and hurried off somewhere,
Now it was me and the beast , I looked him in the eye squarely .
And I meant business. I was in charge ,
He looked away as if disinterested in me but those huge black eyes fell down upon me with a sort of supercilious sneer .
- in charge eh ? They seemed to say
Then the game of chicken began. He raised his enormous front hoof and slammed it on the hard clay. As if to say - well well my friend…
I looked at him with all the even suaveness I could muster .
I could play chicken  too . I tugged at the reins and the bit rattled against his yellow teeth
I obviously went a little too close for  at that precise moment he had quietly , without blinking lifted his other hoof and brought it down on my right toe.
Jesus ! The pain was excruciating . I almost passed out. I dragged I ;  pushed ; I pulled at the reins ; all to no avail . I was impaled to the dirt .
Then looking dolefully with those pitiless black eyes he released my toe and simply looked away.
I was on the ground in agony . Just then I heard a voice.
- well Hi ho !
I looked up . It was the girls who’d beaten Sarah in the jump off.
- Not in any trouble  are you - there was this imperiousness about that girl that I detested at that moment. She was about nineteen , and with her long blonde and typically soft pink cheeks she really was quite stunning. Besides she had a fantastic ass.
- No no ??! just tying my shoe .. - I made a heroic endeavour to retain the composure.
You see this girl had been introduced to me earlier . Her sexiness was open , frank.
And there’s something humiliating  about  being introduced to someone on a horse. You have to stretch up to shake their hand . They never seem to compromise and lean down. That’s why I said she had that imperious look about her.
And when she’d been introduced she said something I didn’t quite know what to make of
- Your’e Irish aren’t you ? -

I immediately felt like I was one of the IRA terrorists who’ were at the time in full flight of their terrorist campaign , by blowing up different parts of London each week.

I should explain at this point that I hadn’t volunteered on this particular holiday. You see there was a little bit of trouble back home. Yes yes!  it was to do with making bombs.
Oh if I could have reversed that one moment . My life before that moment was so blissfully easy. I had a great fondness for the saintly old guy .. And now this .. I mean I had served mass for him just earlier that morning .
Oh God..!
But you cant reverse the moment . All I did was check my fingers .. And my fellow pupils .. Yes he was ok..
I was fortunate to have more allies in the Jesuit community ; more  than realised ,who may not have exactly liked me . They didn’t hate me .
Other old boys were called in as the rector held  his forum .
As these negotiations were going on I was secretly whisked away to England out of harms way…
That wass roughly the background

So as I looked up at this magnificent unattainable creature in her lofty haughter I wondered if she  saw a gun sticking out of my pocket .. The persecution thing was still following me from home .
- You’re Irish aren’t you..?

She said it in that mocking way , at least I felt so that if I had a gun my sympathies would have been entirely with Oscar Wilde . I would have shot her on the spot.
Well I wouldn’t , Neither would  I ever have my merry way with her.
She was beautiful. Really beautiful .And while I hated her at that moment I still couldn’t help but notice the ripple of her thigh against the horse’s flank. That flawless face . It was one of those faces you could only say that even if you wanted to deny her beauty you had to say that her face was without flaw. blonde hair , rosy cheeks .
She had that flawless sort of beauty that no matter  where she’d look or however she was dressed she would have done so with effortless poise.
Healthy fit.. Oh the man .. Who would throw his leg over her ,,, I knew it would never be me.. We called them ‘prick teasers ‘ at home,
She cocked her head and the horse flicked her tail and they both swaggered off in that physical rhythm I also knew I would never have
But when my uncle returned the moment for pity was  over
I was never going to tell either that the horse stepped on my toe. It was simply too humiliating.
That hoof thumping clatter metal muffled as they coaxed the horse into the box reminded me  strangely  a coffin going down .. Deeper waffle going to rumble and straw settling to an  appeasement

The conversation on the way home was mute and only the rumble of the horse box served as any diversion.
My uncle never said a word and when we arrived home Sarah went straight to her room
She did’nt come down for dinner that night  and I thought my uncle kind of savaged the roast lamp as he carved it.
He liked a glass of sherry after his meal .and we retired to the other room after dinner .
I was given a glass of stout . They liked to remember here that they hadn’t forgotten their roots
I hated bottled stout. But maybe he knew I preferred sherry, and so I got stout
- Pity .. Pity .. -
These were the first words he’d said since we’d left the gymkhana

I tried to point out that in another place  and if the judges wer’nt so harsh Sarah would have won
- No No !  .. Bad jump.. Simply bad jumping  .. Bad show old boyYou have to learn from failure You‘ve ..  Got a take it ..rough with the smooth
He went out to the conservatory though it was dark
He ‘d planned a fish pond around the periphery of the garden . He’d discussed it , planned it drawn it, consulted all his patient engineers…
Finally he’d drawn the boundary. He’s got in the sand and the slates ..
- west Clare theme ..
He’d grown above the humble stature he’d lived in the small holding in Clare. He had such a hubris that he regarded his own countymen in Ireland with distain and curiosity .As if to suggest that his upbringing was now so remote as to be a humorous reflection. He had at that stage divested himself of all things Irish..

Sarah’s mother came to my bedroom sometime later  as we all went to bed early that night. It was my uncle’s way of turning the knife .
I’d forgotten about the bloody toe. It would be Ok in the morning
I didn’t  mention it and if I didn’t have to walk you wouldn’t have noticed a thing. She sat on my bedside .
- Did he say anything ? - she asked. ..You know how upset he  gets .
-No ,,nothing
-Did d he just walk away  ?- she sounded anxious .
- Yes that ,,I suppose he did..Oh dear .. Dear dear .. Don ,, that’s the worst you know - ..she patted the bed just near the toe and I held back a wince
The following  weekend  they were holding an autumn  festival  dance  as  the English County people do for the harvest .

The dances were to my barbaric mind equally absurd and ritualistic. The girls who were coming out had a diary .A sort of book  keeping  list  of the dances she’d promised . You had to book a dance with a girl early in the evening . You could be drawn 1 or 10
The idea was that you went to a girl , she checked her diary for the night and you might if you were lucky get number 15 .Or whichever ;Maybe they were all blank; a bluff just to show how popular they were .
It was too much for me . Not no much challenging as repugnant though I shouldn’t’t have put it in those words
I stayed outside the circle of friends. The thing was abhorrent to me,
My aunt had forewarned me never to leave  Sarahs list blank. Some chance ! empty.. But she’d ignored me since she met her friends and I was happy to ..
I had a bit of grass and I slipped out on the veranda and down into the shrubbery to light up.

 Hello there stranger !
Hurt the little hoofey did we ..?

My  god she looked radiant.. With what make up  and all shehad she looked like  Julie Christe
- I nustt confess I had jerked off twicethinking about her , putting her face on he only slob I ever  did ride in my life.
Maybe more , I could never get her out of my head since the gymkhana the week before She was swaggering towards me with that same perfect  motion of her  body.
I wished she  hadn’t worn make up.
-You didn’t book your dance wih me..  Whats that …!
I’d taken a screw off pencil from beside the phone and was trying to inhale the stuff,,
She’d caught me again
Fuck fuck!!
- Aren’t you Irishmen quite wilde …!!..Let me see.
- It’s just a fag .. that’s all
- Naughty .. Naughty boy…- she took the little chunk of stuff I had and dismissed it just cursorily .
-I shouldn’t bother with that old stuff
No ?
No no ..
She filled her glass from somewhere in the shrubbery
- Try this !
What is it ?
-A drink darling .. A drink!
The way it was now that I didn’t’t give a fuck . She was fooling with me and I was getting into a rage ,she having caught me a second time making a dam fool of myself .
She gave me her glass and I sipped the vodka ,.it scorched my throat.
- You are a  funny lad  !
She had glided  paet me and looked back . Her thigh had brushed against me.

- Like to try a little some thing different..? She turned and gave me a coy look .
Of course  I did . She led the way through the shrubbery into an open courtyard where it smelled of horse dung. A clean smell. That mixture of horse sweat ,  dung and straw
I followed as she went into a kind of  shed.
This all seemed so  weird .. There was a seamlessness to her movements.
God the swish of her dress in the dark was really getting to me. The way her dress jutted against those thighs . Jesus I had a hard on just then ,
She found a flash light and went to a shelf where she took down alittle pewter jar.
Within minutes she had taken out a little clay pipe.
She took a little leather pouch  and deftly filled  and lit  the pipe  Even in the  in the shadows  her golden mane  shone in glistening  shards of light .. A halo round her  and to her shoulders.
- she drew on the burning pipe and the smell seemed different that anything I’d smelled before.. But it was the real thing
She  took a deep draw and holding her breath she handed it to me .
Jesus the thrill of it coursed through every part of my body, It was like having a hard on all over , I was dizzy. We lay back in the hay . The feeling already was exquisite
 She said something about the IRA a
But  that and all other nationalist thoughts seemed to dissipate in the exhilaration  
The buzz was extraordinary . Even my horniness seemed to vanish in this higher feeling
- Are you asleep  ?
My world was spinning
We exchanged the pipe again ,,
  - What are you thinking.
I  wasn’t thinking of anything . I was so overcome by this new sensation. I couldn’t think of anything to say , anyway I hated that comment ‘’ what are you thinking about ‘’

 - horses - I said simply .
But you silly boy you’re afraid of horses
She hadcuddled up close to me as she put a little more in the pipe , and drew on it again .
Kiss me !
Me ?
J-ust do it sha’nt tell .. ll I show you.
She was unzipping my pants
-No wooaah ! Woagh there ..
- Easy .. I said feebly
-Which.. - your nervous just ,,relax !

And all my sins spewed out onto that straw . I never got there . I was just too horney . I just came when she touched me
- What a pity, she rolled over and looked at me as the  panting  animal that I was
My feelings of shame, dejection , failure all came upon me in that moment,
She lay back on the straw one leg crossed across her thigh and lit another pipe.
She lay there in a contentment that reminded me of a cat . And yet I lusted again the  next moment.
My shame . My shame . I knew this was too much like a sinful dream.. A lustful one . I never did come in a dream .

- You’re an impetuous lad aren’t you ..Silly boy ..
Maybe is maybe but I was erectagain within minutes
- Just stay a minute .. Please !
Ohhh !! Dear me ! - again the  mocking tone
- Just wait ..
And she did  and the glorious feeling again subsumed again. But this time I managed to hold out and get it into her .. Sublime silkiness of her warmth ..

And then I woke up….

No . Most of it is true but I still dreamed of her and that barnyard smell and the rapture of her thighs recurred to me may times . I jerked offhundreds of times thinking of her. But I never met her again .
I still have a knob on my big toe , where the cursed animalstood on me , a new spurt of growth grew where he’d broken it .See , it couldn’t have happened otherwise.
The Germans have ab expression ‘’ you have good luck in bad luck’’
So now you know .

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