The City Girl Blues

 

The City Girl Blues

by Robert Lubrican

Bookapy Edition

Copyright 2017 Robert Lubrican

2^nd Edition edited 2023

Bookapy User License

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Bookapy.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to use cover art purchased at istock.com

* * * * * * * * * * * ***

Table of Contents

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Epilogue

* * * * * * * * * * * **

Chapter One

Mandy Schilling's life should have been wonderful. She should have been happy and fulfilled. She was intelligent, in good health, and the kind of person who takes the little road bumps life gives us in stride. And ... oh yes ... she was drop-dead gorgeous.

Actually, the drop-dead gorgeous part was the problem. That and a genetic predisposition to lie on her back with her legs spread, urging a man to fuck her long, deep, and continuous. That's what she decided it was, anyway ... a genetic predisposition. She'd struggled to control her libido since she got slammed by puberty when she was thirteen. She entered it long before then, but that's when it slammed her.

It was when she was thirteen that her breasts stopped being mounds with puffy, indistinct nipples and became foothills with dark brown areolas and even darker brown nipples that poked out through everything. Up to then she hadn't had to wear a bra. After that she didn't dare not wear one.

Another reason she thought her perpetual horny nature was genetic was that her mother had been (let's just call a spade a spade) a slut. Maybe that's not fair. Perhaps she was an undiagnosed nymphomaniac instead. Veronica Majors was always pulling her husband, Tom, into the bedroom. Mandy got to watch pretty much whatever she wanted to on TV as she grew up because on most evenings her mother and father spent their time in the bedroom, instead of interacting with or supervising their daughter. What they were doing was pretty clear, even when Mandy was nine or ten. Her mother had a potty mouth during sex and most of the curse words Mandy knew by the time she was fifteen had been learned right there at home.

Not that Veronica was a bad mother. Well, most of the time, anyway. She took care of Amanda, taught her all the things a daughter should learn from her mother, went on shopping trips with her, and even made a lot of Mandy's clothes. Mandy got to choose the pattern and fabric and Veronica did wonders in the sewing room. But when Tom got home and dinner was finished ... well ... let's just say she felt like it was Tom's turn to get her attention. Ronnie was big into role playing. She made her own costumes for that, too.

Ironically, in a sense, one of those things Veronica taught her daughter was that she must not let boys go too far on dates. Her discussion about that was frank in a coded kind of adult-speak way.

"Boys want to do things, Mandy, things that make a girl excited. And that leads to situations where you don't want to stop. And that leads to situations in which babies can be made. The key is never letting yourself get too excited, baby. You can have a little fun, but stop when it starts getting too exciting. Do you understand?"

Mandy did. She was then fourteen and had known for most of a year - ever since her boobs had exploded off her chest - that boys thought about sex most, if not all of the time.

"Yeah, Mom," she said, dutifully.

"You have to save that excitement for marriage," said Ronnie. "Then you can let it all out."

That was the understatement of the century, Mandy thought.

Four hours later she had to turn the TV up to hear it over her mother's voice coming through the walls: "No, Uncle Dan! Not in my ass! You'll tear me apart! Nooooooo. Fuck that feels good, you fucking bull. Keep going. Don't you dare shoot in my ass. I want to drink it tonight!"

There was no "Uncle Dan" in the family. That did explain ... sort of ... why her mother sometimes called her father "Danny boy" when she was feeling playful.

The point is that, by the time Amanda was seventeen, she was inculcated into the belief system that sex was normal, obviously fun, and that it should be engaged in as often as possible. She'd done some making out on dates, but had managed to put off the inevitable thus far, taking to heart her mother's admonition that sex - and letting loose - was for marriage.

Then she met Matt and her defenses crumbled. He made her crazy. It was his smile, for one thing, a sort of crooked smile that only happened on one side of his mouth. And his touch was electric. His lips tasted so good she never wanted to stop savoring them. His parents were rich and he drove a fancy car. On their third date, even though he hadn't pressured her to do more than a lot of kissing, and a little groping, she knew she was in big trouble because all she could think about was getting naked with him.

He, of course, said he approved of that idea.

"We can't," she groaned. "I promised my mother I'd wait until I was married."

"Then marry me," he said, nuzzling her neck.

Oddly - at least at this point in the story - he meant it. He refrained from pressing his advantage and her virginity was intact when he took her home that night. He honored her wishes on the next dozen dates, too, and she was a wreck. She had to masturbate three times a day and she even stooped to stealing one of her mother's vibrators. That wasn't as risky as it sounds. Veronica had at least fifteen of them, in all shapes, colors, and sizes.

On graduation night he made good on his promise and did, in fact, marry her. They eloped, of course, because his parents would never have agreed to let their only son, the inheritor of the family business, marry some trash from the other side of town. Even if the 'town' held three million people.

He took her to Vegas. It was her wedding night. She could finally let loose. And she tried to. She'd spent so much time not thinking about sex while her parents were having it on the other side of the wall that she didn't actually know what to expect. That was good, because while Matt managed to divest her of her virginity, it happened so quickly and was over so abruptly that she was still ramping up emotionally when he rolled off of her and put his hands over his face.

It sounded like he was crying. Mandy, however, could think only of the fact that if she didn't cum she'd just explode. So she reached for her clitty and rubbed the crap out of it while her new husband cried softly in the bed beside her.

He was crying because it turned out Matt was gay. He'd thought Mandy could "cure" him. He really did love her ... but having sex with her just made him feel ... icky. He'd managed to stay hard long enough to have sex with his very first girl, but he knew beyond a doubt that all those things he'd been feeling for other males were real. He knew he couldn't cum with a woman, even Mandy, and his cock went soft.

The honeymoon only lasted another day as they talked about all this and tried to decide what to do. Mandy loved him, too, regardless of his sexual identity. Maybe she thought she could eventually cure him, too. In any case, they went back home and play-acted at being the normal couple. His parents blew their stacks and demanded the marriage be annulled, but Matt stood his ground. That was because he knew he could never marry another woman. He loved Mandy, and she loved him, even if it had to be the kind of love friends share, rather than spouses. He bowed to his mother's wishes only in that there was another wedding, a formal one, with all the bells and whistles, one to which all the relatives and important friends could be invited. Mandy got to help plan it, and it helped convince her that she could "fix" her husband.

At that point, of course, Mandy had never had good sex. She had actually only had thirty seconds of sex, so she didn't really know what she was missing. And Matt was rich. Not that she was mercenary about it. Her family had gotten by okay, but there hadn't been a lot of luxuries.

Her marriage to Matt lasted three years. By the time she could take her first legal drink of scotch, it was to mourn the fact that she'd had to let Matt be Matt. He deserved to have real love in his life and he'd met a man he felt like he could love like a husband is supposed to love his spouse.

It was an amicable breakup. Mandy estimated it would take about a hundred grand for her to find someplace to live and get by on until she found a job. Matt gave her two million, and said, "Mandy, honey, you have no job skills and it would kill me to see you flipping hamburgers. Go back to school and get a degree."

They kissed a final time - kissing her didn't feel icky - and he patted her on the ass he'd fucked two or three times in three years. They'd thought that might work out for him but it hadn't. Blow jobs had been better, because he could close his eyes and imagine she was whatever man he was currently attracted to. Taking her from behind, though, wasn't like that. There was no way he could imagine her hips were a man's. Still, that last kiss was a warm and loving one.

Then Matt went off to come out to his parents and Mandy drove to the local technical college to see what kind of courses they offered.

She still got a Christmas card every year from Matt's mother who, no doubt, had thought long and hard about what Mandy had "tried to do" for her son, all those years.

Two years later Mandy had an associate's degree in fire science, of all things. She'd decided that becoming a fireman - or firewoman - would be a change of pace and shake her out of her doldrums. It did. The only problem was that she filled the wrong kind of hose constantly ... and it wasn't with water. She was used to being intimate with a male buddy. That's really what Matt had been. She'd walked around naked all the time around him. He'd appreciated her for her beauty, even though he didn't salute her with his penis. She didn't walk around nude with her new buddies, of course. But she adopted a warm, open relationship with them. Teams like that grow close anyway. She just welcomed that closeness and thought it was normal.

Her new "buddies" were entirely different about that. When her T shirt got drenched or they had to drag her out of a burning building, erections were involved. She got assigned as the victim a lot. Even the instructors wanted to go in and get her. She was, after all, physically perfect to be on a pinup poster of firewomen. She was five-nine, weighed a hundred and twenty-three pounds, and her measurements were 36-25-34. If that wasn't enough, her long hair was a deep red, with golden highlights, the color of smoldering coals.

She got the highest grades in the class and she earned them, though, to be honest, some of that might have been because her classmates were so distracted all the time they didn't do as well as they could have. Even in the classroom a dozen sets of eyes were on her most of the time. She'd had her uniform shirts tailored. She didn't do that to tease the boys. You just did that. She didn't want to look slovenly. And, because they were her buddies, she didn't tend to think of any of them as potential amorous partners or husband material. It was for that reason that she gently rebuffed the dozens of attempts they made to get her to go out on a date with any of them. She'd party with them, drink with them, dance with them, but only in a crowd.

"I can't go out with you," she'd say. "That would be like going on a date with my brother."

She didn't, in fact, let her guard down until their graduation party. It happened at McGee's, the bar that they and countless past classes had adopted as "their" bar. She got roaring drunk and somehow her shirt came off. She danced in her bra until that, too somehow got loose. Every group has an alpha male in it. In this situation there were maybe six who wanted to be the alpha male, but in the end only one will win out. That's assuming it doesn't turn into a gang rape. But these guys loved their "little sister", even though she drove them bat-shit crazy. The alpha male turned out to be a guy named Tony, who was from a proudly Italian family.

She wasn't so drunk that, when Tony climbed on top of her in the back room of McGee's, she didn't know what was happening. She'd worn out two vibrators since getting her divorce and her attitude about this was, "What the hell. Maybe it will be fun." It helped that she liked Tony. He was macho and funny and had helped her learn how to carry a man twice her weight out of a burning building.

It was only her second time. It was probably Tony's thousandth time, and he took pride in what he called his "three to one ratio." That meant that the woman had three orgasms to every one of his. Tony came twice that night and Mandy found out just how good sex can be. By the time they were finished she was mostly sober again and she'd decided maybe it was time to look for another husband. Tony wasn't that guy, but she was never sorry he dragged her into that back room.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Being a firewoman was great, but fending off the men wasn't. The sexism she experienced in her first job in a firehouse soon made her decide to go back to college to seek a degree that would get her higher on the fire science ladder. If she got a degree in administration, or one in engineering, she'd be wearing a white helmet, rather than a yellow one. Even better, she'd work in an office most of the time instead of living with a bunch of horny guys.

It was while she was engaged in that pursuit that she met Steve. He had served six years in the Army, doing things he wasn't allowed to talk about. He was going to college on the GI Bill. They met in class and the chemistry was immediate. Their first date was a study date and then he invited her to work out with him at the gym. He taught her some self-defense moves and explained the theory of working out. A month later she went to bed with him and the fireworks were breath-taking. She wore him out.

The love she had fallen into was glorious and life was good. They got married on September fifth, 2001.

He got called back on active duty fifteen days later and she saw him a grand total of thirty-six times between then and March of 2003. Unknown to her (and just about every other American) he was inside Iraq in late February, 2002. He was also one of the first American soldiers killed in action when Operation Iraqi Freedom got fully under way.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Grief can do gruesome things to a person. It is commonly said the five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Mandy went out of order and combined a couple of stages. Her denial was married to the bargaining stage. She held out hope that there had been some terrible mistake until she got Steve's body back. Then she was angry until that exhausted her and depression crept in under the radar.

She almost dropped out of school, but school was the only structure in her life at that point, so she plodded on. Her grades suffered. She had no social life and spent hours just sitting in their ... her ... apartment, staring at the walls. Those thirty-six times he'd gotten leave to go see his wife had not resulted in a pregnancy. They'd tried ... with a vengeance ... but her womb hadn't quickened. Much of her depression was about that. If his seed had taken root, at least she'd have some part of him still with her.

Acceptance came slowly. The "trigger" to that came when she stepped on the scale and realized she'd gained fifteen pounds.

She went back to the gym to work it off.

Working out was the first thing she'd done that felt good since Steve had died. She started at an hour a day, which was all she could manage. That shocked her, too. She worked up to four hours a day before she realized she was compensating for her loss by exhausting herself at the gym.

She dropped back to two hours a day, which was more than enough by then. She was in fabulous shape again.

She had no interest in men and her sex drive seemed to be in hibernation. She started bringing her grades back up. That was, in fact, how she met Ryan. She was paired with him for a project in her thermo-dynamics class.

Ryan was terminally happy. Nothing seemed to bother him. He was smart and capable and a good lab partner. He wasn't handsome in the classical sense and had a bit of a beer belly, but he also didn't objectify her, like so many other men did. They got to know each other well enough that, one day, she reached to pinch that flab and said, "You know, I could get that off of you."

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked, happily. "I'm fine with my body."

"Women would find you more attractive," she said. As far as she knew he never dated.

"Would you find me more attractive?" he asked. For once he wasn't grinning.

"I have a lot of baggage," she said. He knew about Steve. "I'm not looking for a man to be attracted to."

"I suppose I'm not looking for a woman, either," he said, lightly.

"Don't tell me you're gay," she said, thinking about Matt.

"Nope," he said, grinning again. "Women are just more trouble than they're worth."

"Gee, thanks a lot," she grumped.

"Not you. You're fine," he said. "But when you have a girlfriend she dominates your time. You can't look at other women. You have to remember dates and things she thinks of as anniversaries. You have to spend lots of money on her. It's just not worth it right now, that's all."

"Whatever," said Mandy. "Still, you should come to the gym with me and get into better shape. You'll live longer."

"Okay," he said, surprising her with his easy acceptance.

She already knew he was endomorphic, like her. Both of them had more white muscle cells than red. So she worked him with light weights and concentrated more on cardio. She was surprised at how quickly he was addicted and within two months they were running two miles a day, together.

They talked about everything as they ran, loping along around campus. One day it was overcast and on the verge of raining and he knocked on her door, asking if she was ready to run.

"Not today," she sighed. "I'm on my period and cramping."

"Running will loosen you up," he said. "Activity is good for that kind of thing. You told me that yourself."

"It's about to rain," she commented, arching one perfect eyebrow.

"So we get a little wet," he said, grinning.

"It's only fifty degrees outside," she said. "If we get wet we'll get hypothermia."

"So we only run a mile and then go back into the warm," he said.

"Why are you so hot to run today?" she asked.

"Are you kidding?" He grinned. "Running with you is the highlight of my day. Everybody sees me running with the hot chick and they think I'm a stud."

"I'm the hot chick?" She wanted to laugh.

"Of course you are. Every guy on campus wants to get with you."

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" He grinned.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she growled.

"Come on. Just a mile," he wheedled.

In the end she got dressed, putting on a hoody to combat the rain, if it started, and went out with him. They ended up doing more than a mile, and it did rain lightly, but she felt better.

He became another "buddy" she could be intimate with. They became regular study partners, meeting three times a week and continued to work out together. He got into much better shape and was aware of that.

Mandy's parents were dead, the victims of a driver who was texting while driving. She had other relatives, but none she felt close enough to reach out to for an invitation to spend the holidays with. When Ryan found out she planned to stay in town for Christmas, he invited her to come home with him.

"Don't stay here alone," he said. "My whole family will be there and they love Christmas. It's their favorite time of the year. They go all out. It's like a Norman Rockwell Christmas. Everybody will be there and the food will be great. Come with me. You'll be glad you did."

She went on condition he make it very clear she wasn't his girlfriend. He took that to heart. The first thing he said as he introduced her to the twelve relatives there for Christmas dinner was, "This is Mandy and she is not my girlfriend. We're just study partners and we work out together."

His family was warm and inviting and for the first time in a long time she felt accepted for who she was, as opposed to who people wanted her to be. Ryan had a younger sister named Jeanette who sidled up to Mandy at one point and asked, "So are you really not his girlfriend?"

"Really not," said Mandy, firmly.

"Too bad," sighed Jeanette. "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," said Mandy, feeling warm.

"So do you have a boyfriend?"

"I'm kind of between boyfriends right now," said Mandy. She left it at that.

"Well, watch out for Uncle Bob, then. He's been eying you ever since you got here."

"Which one is Uncle Bob?" asked Mandy.

"The one with the beard. He's talking to Ryan, over by the Christmas tree."

Mandy looked and saw the man she'd already noticed before. He was burly in the mesomorphic kind of way, with broad shoulders and a thickness she knew was muscle rather than fat. She remembered thinking how white his teeth were when she was introduced to him and he smiled through the darkness of his beard. His handshake had been warm and firm. His eyes had stayed on her face, rather than dipping to her breasts.

Her mind flitted to a little fantasy but then rejected it. He was years older than her. And, for all she knew he was a beast. He certainly looked like a beast with his untrimmed, bushy beard.

Then, at dinner, she found herself seated next to him.

She was surprised when he pulled her chair out and seated her. That surprise multiplied when he was asked to say grace. He held out both hands to his sides and everyone reached to hold hands while he spoke. His voice was mellow and deep and his prayer wasn't some canned little speech, regurgitated by rote.

The meal was delicious and the conversation interesting. Along the way someone asked Uncle Bob how things were going at the ranch and he expounded on how his yearling steers were doing and how his favorite mare would be dropping a foal in a month. Mandy looked at his hands, which handled the utensils with a delicate grace that looked odd in his rough, dark, calloused fingers. She expected food to get stuck in his beard, but it didn't. She'd never known anyone else who had such full, bushy facial hair. He was ... different.

After dinner there was an enthusiastic round of carols, which everyone participated in, including the children. Then the woman playing the piano - Mandy couldn't remember her name or what relationship she was to Ryan - stayed there with Ryan and three others and they began singing other songs in four part harmony. There was a fire in the fireplace and Mandy ended up standing beside it, enjoying the warmth and the dancing flames.

"So, how did you meet my nephew?" came a deep voice beside her. She looked to see Uncle Bob standing beside her. He had a glass of eggnog in his hand. The tips of his moustache just above his lips were white with it and she felt the urge to reach and wipe that off.

"We're lab partners in a class at school," she said. "Well, we were. That class is over now."

"Ahhh," he said, as if that explained some puzzle.

"Ahhh?" She arched an eyebrow.

"It's just that Ryan has never pursued your kind of woman," he said.

"My kind of woman?" She felt anger, even though there was no clear rationalization for that.

"Ryan has always been more into skinny girls with glasses who want to save whales and go join demonstrations at pipeline construction sites," said the man.

"Oh? Well, I wouldn't know. I've never seen him spending time with any girls."

"If you showed any interest in him that becomes an obvious situation."

"What do you mean?" asked Mandy, anger still bubbling beneath the surface.

"You're in a whole other category of women than those angry, frustrated liberals he usually hooks up with," said Bob.

"What makes you think I'm not a liberal?" asked Mandy, letting some of the heat of her anger seep into her voice. "And what category am I in?"

"Hey," said the man, putting up one hand, palm outward. "We're just having a conversation here. You seem to have taken offense in a situation where none was intended."

"What category?" she insisted.

He looked at her and suddenly she felt as if he could see clear into her soul. This time his eyes ranged over her body in an examination that was very quick, but somehow made her feel naked. She noticed, though, that his eyes spent a long time on her hair, which she'd left down but put in a loose French braid. He took a sip of his eggnog, re-staining his moustache, and finally spoke.

"Well, to be indelicate about it - and remember you insisted I tell you - what we used to call that category when I was Ryan's age was 'A wet dream built like a brick shithouse'."

He smiled, as if he'd said nothing offensive at all, but held up his open hand again to restrain her from commenting.

"Of course these days that would be a misogynistic thing to say and completely politically incorrect. But it conveys the concept rather well, so I took the liberty of using a rude description. I hope I have not offended you."

His 'apology' was sincere. Mandy could sense that in her gut. And his eyes hadn't fallen to her breasts again when he said it. He'd been looking in her eyes instead of talking to the body he was describing. The anger that had flashed and then surged when he said such a crass thing deflated and then, surprisingly, vanished like smoke in the wind.

"Well, since it was so politically incorrect, I won't say thank you," she said.

"It's just that Ryan's never brought a beautiful woman home with him," said Bob. "So I was surprised and poked my nose where it probably doesn't belong."

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, firmly.

"That's an interesting word, isn't it?" he asked. "Boyfriend. Girlfriend. It makes things sound so juvenile. That said, I can definitely see Ryan as a boy. He has a lot of growing up to do. You, on the other hand? You're not a girl. You may be young, but you're not a girl. You're all woman and it would be silly to hear you referred to as a 'girl'friend."

"You're very forward, aren't you," said Mandy, who was trying to find that anger again, but couldn't.

"I suppose so," he said, easily. "When you live the kind of life I do, there isn't much room for silly things. Your generation, no offense intended, seems to delight in frivolity and silliness, little social games."

"All I'm trying to do is get an education and make a life," said Mandy. "I think that's true of others my age, too."

"Of course," said Bob, taking another sip. That "moustache" on his moustache was driving her crazy. She wished she had a napkin in her hand. "But a life should include productive work and that's what your generation seems to want to avoid."

"That's a very broad generalization," said Mandy.

"It is," he admitted. "I shouldn't make them. My father liked to say, 'All generalizations are bad, including this one.' I've always remembered that but sometimes I let my mouth get away from me."

"You do," agreed Mandy, but with no heat.

"I thank you for your very gracious tolerance of an old curmudgeon," he said, bowing slightly.

"You're not old," she said. "Curmudgeonly, perhaps, but not old. I bet you're a Republican."

He leaned close enough to her that she could smell the faint hint of some cologne, and spoke under his breath, conspiratorially.

"I am, and don't tell Ryan, but I'm also a member of the NRA."

"How nice for you," she said. "I vote for whoever I think has the best ideas, regardless of party."

"And yet, whoever gets elected is supposed to represent you and your ideas, rather than his own," he said. "Or hers," he added, smiling.

"That's impossible," said Mandy, suddenly enjoying this little argument. "An elected official can't possibly please all the people. That's why it's important to know where they stand on various issues before you vote for them."

"Agreed," said Bob. "Though it would be nice if they listened to their constituents, at least to what the majority want."

"I don't want to talk about politics," said Mandy. "Tell me why there is no room for silliness in your life. That seems sad."

"Oh, I'm not opposed to a little superficiality now and then," said Bob.

He took another sip and seemed to be about to add to that, but Mandy couldn't stand it any longer. She looked around and saw a pile of napkins on the table, which was now set with plates bearing a variety of Christmas goodies. She walked ten feet to get a napkin and, when she returned, she reached to clean his upper lip and moustache tips.

"Sorry," she said, for intruding into his personal space.

"No problem," he said, grinning. "I live alone and have the manners of a bear."

"You certainly look like a bear," joked Mandy.

"That would make us Beauty and the Beast," he quipped.

She felt a little jolt as he used the same word she'd thought of in reference to him only an hour earlier. Then she was distracted from that when he went on.

"Now there's a story they only told half of," he said.

"Oh?"

"Well, think about it. Beast meets girl. Beast falls in love with girl. Girl falls in love with beast. What normally happens when two beings fall in love?"

"Oh," said Mandy, who felt her face get warm.

"Of course they couldn't tell that part," said Bob. "That would have been extremely politically incorrect, even back then. Not to mention that bestiality is against the law almost everywhere."

"What are you two talking about?" came a voice that startled Mandy. She looked to see Ryan standing beside them. The singing was still going on, but with different vocalists.

"Nothing," she said, automatically, while thinking about what Uncle Bob had said. He'd referred to himself as the Beast, and her as Beauty. What he'd added to that was innuendo ... wasn't it?

"I was telling Mandy how surprised I was that you brought home a beautiful woman instead of another little girl who wants to save the planet," said Bob.

"She's not my girlfriend," said Ryan, who seemed unfazed by his uncle's sardonic comment.

"Yes," said Bob. "You both make it painfully clear you're not together."

Ryan had taken her away then, to a table where five other family members were playing a card game she'd never heard of. Over the next hour she learned it and liked it very much. She was distracted from the game only a couple of times, when she saw Bob dancing with various of his female relatives and it occurred to her that she really hadn't ever had any relationships with older men. Bob was - after she'd chatted with him for a while - an interesting man, interesting in ways her instincts told her were due to his age and life experience. It was something she wasn't likely to find in men her own age.

It was on a subconscious level, but another category of men was opened up for exploration, in terms of social relationships.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a fun evening for her, and Mandy was glad she'd gone with Ryan to meet his family. The irony of the situation became clear only later, when Ryan took her to the guest room so she could retire for the night. They'd played cards for hours and she'd pretty much constantly sipped on eggnog from the spiked container. Like this new, fun card game, she'd decided that eggnog with rum in it was going to have to become part of her life from that point on.

The result, though, was that by the time the last of the extended family put on their coats and left, she was a little more than mildly tipsy. Ryan had already arranged with his mother to have Mandy stay in the guest room, since they had a six hour drive to get back to the town they went to school in, and when he took her there she weaved and laughed a lot, bumping into him until he put his arm around her waist to steady her.

"Thanks," she said as she plopped down on the bed, lying back with her arms spread.

"No problem," he said, staring at the mountains pushing up under her shirt and licking his lips. "I put your overnight bag on that chair over there." He pointed. "If you need anything, my room is right next door."

"Okay," she sighed. "I like your family."

"They like you, too," he replied. "Sleep tight."

He left and Mandy lay there for a while, almost dozing off before she decided to change clothes and get in bed. She got up and giggled a little as she staggered around, making her way to where her overnight bag was.

She normally slept nude, but had brought a long T shirt to wear in this strange environment, so she stripped down and put that on. She tried to carefully fold her dirty clothes and giggled some more when that took an inordinate amount of concentration.

The bed felt good as she crawled into it and she relaxed.

The only problem was ... she was horny, and she hadn't brought anything with her to deal with that.

She giggled again as she had a short fantasy of Ryan helping her by opening her bag to get her sleepwear out for her and finding the eight-inch-long, anatomically correct dildo she'd named Harold, and which she often used to satisfy her hungry pussy with. It didn't vibrate, but it stretched her delightfully and she could feel every bump and ridge on it as she worked it in and out of her sex.

She didn't have a lot of experience with real penises. She'd seen only four: her father's, Matt's, Tony's, and Steve's. Tony's had come the closest to being as big as her dildo, but she knew most men would never be as big as Harold.

But she hadn't brought Harold, hadn't imagined she'd need him, so she reached with her fingers to get some relief.

She got close, but not there. She didn't know what was wrong. She decided it was because she was tipsy and couldn't decide on a man to think of while her fingers mauled her clit. At one moment she'd think of one of the men she'd actually had sex with. But both Ryan and Bob kept intruding on her thoughts. She understood Ryan. He was sweet and not bad looking. But Uncle Bob? He looked gruff and bearish. His attitude about life was no nonsense and opinionated. But his voice was so warm and deep and the way he'd danced with the various women had been warm and intimate, too. Not that he'd put his hands in inappropriate places, but his embrace during slow songs had been snug - with all of them - in a way that made it clear they liked being close to this big, hairy man.

He was single. She didn't know any more than that. She tried to imagine what kind of woman he might have paired up with in the past.

It was while she was thinking about these things that she realized she wasn't going to get to where she needed to be. She was too distracted.

It was most likely the rum that made her mind go onto a new track.

Ryan was right next door. And he'd said if she needed anything ...

It was quiet when she carefully opened the door to the guest room and tiptoed toward the next door. She hoped it was the right one. It would be embarrassing in the extreme if it wasn't, but it was the door in the direction he'd nodded toward.

Just as carefully she eased that door open and looked inside. Her eyes had adapted to the dark, but the only light in that room was coming through thin curtains over the windows. She could see the bed, and a long lump on it, but that was all.

"Ryan?" she whispered.

The lump moved.

"Mandy?"

"Yeah. Can I come in?"

"Of course," said Ryan's voice. "What's wrong?"

She went to the bed, weaving slightly and overcompensating, like tipsy people do.

"I'm horny," she whispered, and then giggled.

"I'm glad," said Ryan.

The covers were pulled aside and she slid into bed with him.

"Just this once," she whispered.

"I hoped this would happen some day," he said, embracing her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Later she would reflect on that night. It was definitely the rum that got her into bed with Ryan. But even so, it worked out wonderfully. She wished she hadn't drunk so much eggnog, because she had a hard time remembering that night in detail, but she was also sure that, if she hadn't drunk so much eggnog, she wouldn't have gone to his room. Much of the benefit to doing that would be realized much later, but she wasn't sorry it had happened.

What she did remember and would experience again, despite her warning that it would happen only once, was that Ryan came as close as she thought any man ever would to being as big as Harold. She'd known that the second she'd reached to grip what was, to her relief, a diamond-hard cock that she really needed inside her.

He was a reasonably good lover, in terms of foreplay, but she didn't need foreplay. She'd managed the foreplay part on her own. The most vivid memories of that night, though, were being filled, stretched, and then having to reach for a pillow to stifle her voice as she finally got what she so desperately needed.

That was it. She didn't know if she'd passed out, or just been so relaxed after her orgasm that she drifted off, but she woke up with the early-morning light coming through the windows. Ryan was snoring beside her as she lifted her tousled head and stared blearily around. She had a mild hangover, but it wasn't too bad. What worried her was whether anyone else was up and around and had found "her bed" empty.

She got out of bed, mildly surprised that her T shirt was still on, and tiptoed to the door. It was silent as she opened it. She had to think hard to remember where the bathroom was, but it was necessary to find it. She shaved it close, because as she was coming out of the bathroom Ryan's mom opened another door down the hall and came out of it dressed in a robe.

"Good morning," she said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," said Mandy, thinking that the woman must somehow know where she had slept.

"Good. Breakfast will be ready in half an hour."

That was it. By the time Mandy was dressed for the day and got down to the kitchen, she felt better. Half an hour after that she had decided that her activities the previous night were unknown to anyone other than Ryan.

Chapter Two

Ryan didn't behave in any discernibly different way when he appeared, and maintained that attitude until they were in the car, headed back home. It was he, however, who brought it up.

"Last night was interesting," he commented. They'd been driving for twenty minutes and there had been very little said up to that point.

"Yes," she said, unable to think of anything else to say. She'd been thinking about it, but wasn't exactly prepared to discuss it. "I'm sorry I ambushed you like that."

"I'm not," he said, happily.

"What I mean is that I didn't intend for something like that to happen," she said. "I think the eggnog had something to do with it."

"I figured," he said, just as happily. "Do you have any regrets?"

"No," she said, somewhat astonished that she was speaking the truth. She didn't understand why she felt averse to admitting it. "I mean ... I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"Well, I have to admit I hoped something like that would happen."

"Yes, you said that last night."

"Look," he said, glancing at her before looking back at the road ahead, "neither of us is involved with anybody. I like you and I know you like me. What's the harm?"

Mandy thought about how she felt about this man. He wasn't like Matt. She'd loved Matt, but in a different way than she'd ever loved another man. She'd loved Steve with all her heart. Even now she felt his loss. She didn't feel that way about Ryan. He was more like Tony, she decided. Tony had been a flash in the pan, a brief moment where she'd felt like a normal woman with a normal man. Except she felt closer to Ryan than she had to Tony.

The problem was that she didn't feel anything close to what Steve had generated in her.

Still, she wasn't sorry it had happened. And she did need a man in her life.

Maybe love would come if she explored this a little farther.

"No harm," she finally responded. She looked over at him. "I don't normally do that, though. I mean hop into bed with a random guy."

"I know," he said. "I'm not exactly random, though. Like I said, we like each other a lot."

"That's true," she said.

"I know you said it would only be one time but ... what now?" he asked.

She looked at him. There had been something in his voice when he asked that question ... a longing note, perhaps.

"You want to do it again," she accused.

"Of course," he said, grinning.

"You run with the babe on a regular basis, and now you want to bed her that way, too," she said.

"If I wanted anything else I'd be crazy," he said, happily.

"Men," she snorted. "You're all horndogs."

"Mother Nature made us that way," he said, as if that should absolve him from any responsibility.

His comment, though, brought something else to her mind.

"Crap!" she said. "Did you cum in me last night?"

Finally, he looked something other than carefree and happy.

"Um ... yeah," he said, as if that, too were a foregone conclusion.

"Crap!" she said, again. "I'm not on birth control."

"You're not?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"Ryan! I just told you I don't do this kind of thing!"

"Well yeah, but ... I guess I just thought you were."

"I'm not," she said. "Be quiet and let me think."

She mentally reviewed her menstrual status. She had to count backwards, arriving at the number nine as the end of her last period. She sighed.

"I think we're safe," she said.

"Safe?"

"I don't think you're going to be a daddy," she said, sarcastically.

"Wow," he said. "I didn't think about that."

"Men never do," she growled.

"But that's good, right? I mean I'd like to be a father some day, but not right now."

"Yeah," she said, a little sarcasm still in her voice. "I'm not quite ready to be a mommy right now either."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

What evolved was something Mandy wasn't sure she understood completely. The rest of the conversation on the trip back had resulted in a somewhat antiseptic agreement that they would continue to be study partners and "become" boyfriend and girlfriend. It felt artificial to her, somehow, and yet she really did like him a lot. She thought of all the other men she knew and none of them caused her to regret arriving at the conclusion that Ryan and she were now a couple.

She got a prescription for the pill and Ryan bought some condoms. They studied together two or three times a week, as they had before. The engineering track they were in made that work well, but now there was an added dimension to things.

The first time they had sex after Christmas was a little awkward at first. They weren't used to being intimate with each other, and their first kisses were tentative. But Mother Nature has a way of getting past all that and soon they were snogging like old pros. Ryan proved to be a better lover than she had thought he would be. Most of her reservations about that were based on the fact that she couldn't remember much about their first coupling. But this time she wasn't fired up already, like she had been then, and he took his time, his hands and mouth roving around her body, until her loins arched in her need.

This time she got to see his phallus before it entered her and she was happy to confirm that her memories of that were correct. He was bigger than any man she'd been with and when he finally slid it into her she groaned with bliss as she was filled to capacity.

He came quickly, but continued to grind against her until he got her over the top. By the time she'd caught her breath he was mostly stiff again and stayed in the saddle for another round. This one was longer and more for her benefit and she came again before he rolled off of her and relaxed.

"That was good," he commented.

"Yes it was," she said, firmly.

"I think this is going to work out," he said.

She rolled her head to face him.

"There's more to a relationship than sex," she said.

"I know," he said, grinning. "But if the sex is good, then the rest of it will come easy."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

He seemed to be right. As the spring semester rolled by their relationship became very comfortable. They liked enough of the same things that dating was fun for both of them. And the sex was good. By May, when most of the students were leaving for the summer, he suggested moving in together.

"It will save money," he suggested, unaware that she had over a million dollars in the bank.

There were only two problems, from Mandy's perspective.

One was that, while they were in a somewhat codified relationship, they did not see each other every single day. Mandy felt like she had plenty of time for herself and things that wouldn't involve Ryan. If they moved in together, that would no longer be the case.

The other was the moral code, or what was left of it, her mother had instilled in her when Mandy was young.

Morals are interesting animals. Moral codes are like fingerprints; no two are identical. Everybody has one, but what's in it isn't visible from the outside. Parts of a person's code can be inferred, based on his or her actions in a given situation, but that's like seeing one square inch of a painting, or one piece of a puzzle. Morals aren't required to make sense, or at least one can argue that point. Morals are what allow a prostitute to say, "No" to sex, even after she's accepted a man as a client and it turns out he wants something she doesn't.

It's much more complicated than that, of course, but it's pertinent to the situation because Mandy, despite the fact that she'd had sex with Ryan a hundred times or more, felt it would be wrong to live with him outside the institution of marriage. It wasn't as clear-cut as that in her mind. She just wasn't comfortable with the idea of moving in together. It felt improper, somehow.

The way it came out of her was, "I don't know, Ryan. I've never lived with any man I wasn't married to."

"Then marry me!" he gushed, pulling her into an embrace and whirling her around.

"I can't marry you," she laughed, trying to tickle him. What would have been interesting to a psychologist was that there was no conscious reason in her mind that produced that statement.

"You have to marry me!" he yelled, still whirling her around. "I can't live without you!"

Mother Nature has imbued, in women, the drive to find a mate. Women who are "liberated" will scoff and argue about that, but they are either wrong or aberrations, in the context of evolution. This isn't to knock those women who have chosen the feminist way of life, but evolution demands that women mate and produce children to keep the species going. Obviously a woman wants the best mate she can find, but sometimes the drive causes her to accept less than perfect. If you look around you'll see plenty of married people who shouldn't have gotten married because they really aren't "right" for each other in a social sense. That's Mother Nature's fault, but the individuals in that situation are the ones who have to live with the consequences. That brings morals back into the picture. A lot of people stay together because their moral code demands that of them. Others just get divorced and start looking for a better mate again.

It's much more complex than that, of course, but it's pertinent to the situation because Mandy's id responded to what was happening on a more important level than her ego did.

Granted, the pressure was intense, as their physical interaction evolved into clothes coming off and Ryan picking her up and taking her to bed. His persistent, "You have to marry me," continued as he slid into her. A couple of months after she'd gone on the pill condoms had become less important in their relationship and, eventually, they fell by the wayside altogether. She loved the feel of his naked cock inside her and he loved spurting into her hot depths, rather than a latex bag.

It was, in fact, as she heard his joyfully agonized groan and felt the hot jets of his semen soaking her, that the final barrier her exhausted ego had tried to put up fell.

"All right," she breathed into his ear as he sagged on top of her. His weight felt wonderful pressing her into the bed. "I'll marry you."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Whether one considers it odd or not, the fact she'd accepted his proposal didn't affect her decision that moving in together wasn't the way she wanted to go. As was theorized, morals don't have to make sense. This became important because it is likely the reason Ryan insisted they needed to get married soon ... and why Mandy didn't have a crucial piece of information that would have altered her perspective entirely. Had she lived with him a while, she'd have known there was something about him he had neglected to tell her.

Mandy wasn't there when Ryan called his parents and told them the good news. She didn't hear the argument that took place or the process by which, over an hour, Ryan finally won them over. When he later told her the wedding would take place in his parents' back yard she didn't react like many women would have. Most women want to plan their own wedding in all aspects of it, including what the groom will do. But Mandy had planned two weddings already. Her marriage to Steve had been on the level of the classical fairy tale wedding. She'd felt like a queen, rather than a princess, but it was everything she could have hoped for. There had been no happily ever after, though, and perhaps that was why she didn't care where this new marriage took place.

When Ryan's mother, named Marjorie, found out Mandy's parents were gone, she offered to help with the preparations.

Over the next two months Mandy and Marjorie spent a lot of time together, both on the phone and in person, and the preparations were all finished by the day in mid-August when Mandy, in the same room she had "seduced" her husband-to-be, slipped on the peach gown she had chosen to wear. She had only one bridesmaid, Ryan's sister, who would wear a dress in matching material, but of a completely different design.

The guests made it look like Christmas had, since all were from Ryan's family. The decorations were different and Mandy struggled to remember names, but everyone was just as welcoming of her as they had been eight months earlier. She didn't spend that much time with any of them, though, as she was sequestered most of the time in her "dressing room."

Everything was ready on time. The tent had been erected in the back yard and chairs were in short lines with an aisle between them. The minister was there and Mandy was ready. The same woman who had played the piano at Christmas - her name was Jane and she was one of Ryan's cousins - was seated at an electronic piano off to one side, playing something classical.

There was only one problem.

The groom wasn't there yet.

He'd said he was going to get ready at Jerrod's house, across town. Jerrod was his best friend from childhood and the best man. The tuxes had been rented and Ryan had picked them up.

But he wasn't there at the appointed time.

People chatted, waiting. Jane played the same piece again. Marjorie fretted and shot looks at her husband, John.

Forty-five minutes later, Jerrod showed up at the house, dressed in jeans and a T shirt.

"He's not coming," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why not?!" yelled Marjorie, bursting into tears.

In answer, Jerrod held out a piece of paper to Mandy and said, "He's Ryan. What can I say?"

The paper was a handwritten note, addressed to Mandy.

"Mandy, honey. I know this is crazy and I'm sorry, but I've decided to become a Buddhist. I'm moving to Katmandu to live in a monastery for five years."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mandy stared at the note. She couldn't comprehend it. Had she tried to dream up some unfathomable state the world could suddenly enter into, it wouldn't have been anywhere near as insane as this was.

The look of shock on her face, and the fact she seemed to be frozen in place, eventually led to someone reaching for the note.

"May I?" came a deep voice she recognized as Uncle Bob's.

He plucked it from her fingers and, after glancing at it, handed it to John, who showed it to his wife. Marjorie burst into tears and the situation devolved into a very calm riot of sorts. There was a hubbub as the word spread and people stood to move around. That movement was aimless, for the most part, but some of the women clustered around Mandy in a show of support. Mandy heard muttered comments about "Ryan's problem" but her mind was whirling too much to pay attention to them.

Over the next thirty minutes the guests faded away and Mandy was left sitting in a chair, in her wedding gown. Someone handed her a tumbler with two inches of amber fluid in it and she took a gulp. Fire flowed down her throat and settled in a warm ball in her stomach and she coughed. Her mind identified the liquid as Scotch, something she'd only had twice before. It tasted smoky, somehow, but thinking about that was a welcome diversion.

Her mind had finally settled on the concept that "it was over." She had no idea what the future would hold, but the past was settled. The present seemed to be contained in the tumbler in her hand and she put it to her lips, only sipping this time. It tasted better than the first gulp and she inhaled the scent coming off the liquor.

Someone sat down next to her and she looked over to see Bob.

"You okay?" he asked. He frowned. "Of course you're not okay. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she sighed. "What's done is done. Nothing can change that."

"I guess that's true," said the man.

"I just wish I could understand," she said.

"I suspect he's off his meds again," said Bob.

"What?" Mandy looked at him with wide eyes.

"You didn't know?" Bob sighed. "I thought by now you would."

"Know what?" barked Mandy.

"Ryan's bipolar," said Bob. "He should have told you."

"Bipolar?" Mandy's eyebrows rose. "Bipolar?" she repeated, her voice dazed.

"Yes. When he's off his meds he gets ... impulsive," said Bob. "It's happened before, but we thought he'd finally realized how important it was to take his medication consistently."

"I never saw him take any medication," said Mandy, her voice still stunned.

"He was ashamed about it," said Bob. "We could usually tell when he stopped taking his pills. He'd get manic and then crash. But when he went away to college there was nobody there to keep an eye on him. He seemed okay at Christmas and I think everybody wanted to believe he'd straightened up. I had some suspicions, but I didn't say anything."

"What suspicions?" asked Mandy.

"Well ... you for one," said the man. "Remember me telling you he'd never brought a girl like you home before?"

"Yes."

"It was out of character for him," said Bob.

"You told me that," said Mandy. "I remember that."

"Yes. But what could I say? I just hoped it meant he was finally in control of his malady and was making better decisions."

"Thanks," said Mandy, tiredly, recognizing that he had put her in the category of a "better decision."

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I have no idea. Ryan drove us here. I don't even have a way back to school. Even if I went back to school I don't think I could concentrate on studying. I feel like I fell off a ship in the middle of the ocean and am treading water."

"You want to get away for a while?" asked Bob.

"I am away," she sighed.

"I meant away from familiar things," he said.

"How would I do that?" she asked.

"You're welcome to come to the ranch for a while. You can do a lot of thinking while you do the kind of work I do and the work itself will consume your time."

"Work on a ranch?" she asked. "I'm a city girl. I wouldn't know the front end of a cow from the back."

"That's pretty easy," he said, grinning. "I can teach you what you need to know."

"Work on your ranch?" she said, her voice dazed again.

"It would be a change of pace," he said. "Might be just what you need to get your head together again."

"But it's ... dirty ... and stuff," she said, frowning.

"Well, I suppose that's true, but I do have a bathroom with a shower. It's inside and everything." He smiled, communicating that his comment was an attempt at witticism rather than sarcasm.

"I can't just go off with some strange man I hardly know," she said.

"Sure you can. You may not know me yet, but my intentions are purely honorable. You need a break from the routine and I can give you that."

Mandy would later insist that she had no idea why she decided to accept his offer. It was a snap decision, which was ironic in the sense that it was Ryan's snap decision that led to it.

"Okay," she said, simply.

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Why not?" she said, heavily. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need a change."

"Okay, then," said Bob. "Take your time and think about it. You can come back with me tonight, or come out later on."

"I can't go anywhere," said Mandy. "I don't have a car, remember?"

"I'm sure John and Marjorie would let you use Ryan's car for as long as you need it," said Bob.

"I would need some clothes," said Mandy. "All I brought with me were things to wear on our honeymoon."

"I doubt you have the kind of clothes you'll need," said Bob. "I can loan you enough to get you outfitted. You can pay me back with work."

"I have money," said Mandy. "That's not an issue."

"Well then, I can take you into town when you get there and we'll get you what you need."

Mandy did sit and think about it. To be completely honest, "Bob" as a man didn't really enter into things at that point. She didn't really know him, but she trusted him on a subconscious level. What she thought about was going somewhere different, where there were no memories of Ryan. She couldn't comprehend what working on a ranch would be like, but she trusted Bob when he said it would distract her.

There was the issue of her belongings, but they were just things. Things could be replaced. The only thing she owned that was precious to her was Steve's wedding ring, which had been returned to her by a faceless man in an Army uniform. She'd had it sized for her right ring finger and worn it ever since.

She looked down at that ring now. She'd been prepared to take it off when she married Ryan. She resolved to never take it off, now. It was a sign that men left, abandoning her.

It would remind her to never become involved with a man again.

She didn't think of leaving that night with Bob Cobb as becoming involved with another man.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

There was little conversation as Bob's truck took Mandy farther west than she'd ever been before. His ranch was situated thirty miles north and ten miles east of Brimley, Colorado. He owned five thousand acres west of the Pawnee National Grassland, where he ran cattle and horses. He'd inherited the ranch from his own uncle when he was in his twenties, and now he worked only enough to pay the bills and taxes, putting aside a little for a rainy day. His horses weren't from famous bloodlines, but were in demand from other local ranchers, and equine hobbyists, people who just wanted a horse to ride. He was currently boarding three horses he'd sold to local families whose daughters were involved in barrel racing. He made money selling cattle, but made more with his horse business.

Mandy was exhausted, and driving in the dark made it easy for her to fall asleep. She woke when he stopped for gas, went into the convenience store to use the bathroom, but went back to sleep again when they left. She woke again to find it was light enough out to dimly see the landscape around them.

"Where are we?" she asked, stretching.

"About an hour from the ranch," he said.

She looked around and saw nothing but grassland as far as she could see. Off in the west she could dimly see what looked like a bank of dark clouds, resting on the horizon, a thunder storm, perhaps. The road they were on was a narrow two-lane paved byway that was cracked in a way she could feel through the suspension of the truck.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"A little after six," he said.

"I slept all that time?"

"You were tired," he said.

It was quiet as he drove on.

"Thank you," she said.

"What for?" he asked.

"Taking me in," she said.

"Trust me, once you start working you'll hate me," he said. She saw him grin.

"I doubt that," she said.

"It's hard work," he said. "Your manicure will not survive."

"I don't have a manicure," she said. She looked down at the fake nails she'd glued to her fingers for the wedding. She started popping them off but the one on her left little finger resisted enough that it caused pain. Her hand looked ridiculous with only one long, apricot-colored nail on it but she'd have to wait until the glue could be dealt with. He had a small trash can on the floor below the radio and she dumped the bits of plastic in it.

"What kind of work will I be doing?" she asked.

"Well ... it's hard to say. There are about a million things that need to be done and they kind of announce themselves when they need attention."

"That's pretty vague," she said.

"It will be easier to just show you," he said. "Do you want to stop in town and get clothes before we go to the ranch, or go to the ranch first and get freshened up?"

The idea of shopping was suddenly appealing, especially since she knew it would be shopping for the kind of things she'd never looked at before.

"Shopping first," she said.

"Shopping it is," he said.

Chapter Three

It's quite possible that the first step on Mandy's journey to healing after being left at the altar was that shopping trip. She'd already decided she wasn't going back to her apartment, at least for the foreseeable future. She planned on calling her landlady and arranging to continue paying the rent, but she honestly didn't know when she'd return. Bob's offer of "diversion" was the island she had swum to after this particular ship wreck and all she could think about at the moment was catching her breath.

And provisioning the island.

To that end, she started making a list of what she'd need to replace that was currently in her apartment back east. It included, quite literally, everything she would need to live for at least a month and possibly longer. Bob helped, but only by pushing the cart she filled up with toiletries, a new hair dryer, a jar of Noxzema, and so on. When she stopped at the toothpaste display Bob said, "I have toothpaste, Mandy."

"I know, but I'm not going to leech off of you. Do I need to get more towels?"

"I think I'm okay on towels," he said, laughing.

She got five pair of jeans of a different style than she would have if she were still back at school. Bob said they needed to be wide at the ankle, to go down over the boots she'd be wearing. Also, on Bob's recommendation, she got western style long sleeved shirts in checkered patterns of different colors. When Bob stopped at a store that sold primarily boots, he made more recommendations.

"You'll need a pair of traditional cowboy boots with pointed toes," he said.

"Why?"

"Makes it easier to get your feet in the stirrups," he said.

"I'm going to ride a horse?" Her eyebrows went up.

"A lot," he said, grinning.

"I don't know, Bob," she said, uncomfortably.

"You'll do fine," he said. "You also need a pair of Wellingtons for regular work. They're easier to get into, and waterproof."

"Do you wear boots in the house?" she asked.

"Slippers, usually," he said. "I have some tennis shoes too."

"Running shoes!" she said. "I have to have good running shoes."

"We normally chase critters on horseback," said Bob, grinning.

"It's just for running," she said. "That's how I keep in shape."

"Well it's working," said Bob, raking his eyes up and down her body with no shame at all. He did grin again to lessen the temerity of his visual assault.

"Thank you," said Mandy, pinking up. "I think. Are you dangerous, Bob?"

"Gentle as a lamb," said the bearded man with all the muscles. "No threat at all."

"Said the wolf." Mandy fixed her eyes on his and unconsciously assumed a defensive posture.

"Well," said Bob, amiably, "you're no Little Red Riding Hood, so I don't think you have to worry a whole lot. I tend to take my aggression out on coyotes for the most part. Let's get you socks first so we can fit the boots to them. Socks are important, so we want good ones."

The boot-fitting was performed by a girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen, but she knew her stuff and half an hour later Mandy owned two sets of boots of a type she never thought she'd ever be interested in. The cowboy boots were beautiful, though, with intricate stitching on them, made of ostrich skin. Mandy thought it was awful to make boots out of a poor bird's skin, but they were so beautiful that she stifled that objection.

"Anything else?" asked Bob as the girl rang up the purchases.

"Undies," said Mandy.

"You want to go to Richardson's for that," said the girl, as if a stranger talking about buying underwear in a boot store was the most normal thing in the world.

"How about running shoes?" asked Mandy.

"We have some, but based on your calves, you're probably a serious runner."

"I am," said Mandy, unsure how to feel about the strange intimacy of the girl's comment.

"For that, Jenner's shoe emporium, over in Ridley," said the girl. "That's where the guys on the track team get their shoes. We're a little too small to have a specialty shoe store." She grinned. "Other than boots."

"Thanks," said Mandy.

"No problem," said the girl. "Thank you for your business."

They went to Richardson's next and Mandy told Bob to stay in the truck.

"I think I can buy underwear on my own," she said, sardonically.

"Get black," he said, with a smile.

"Why?"

"I like black," he said, grinning.

"Said the wolf," growled Mandy.

Once inside she understood why the girl at the boot store had recommended the place. They had high end merchandise and it was all beautiful. Thinking about riding horses, she asked the saleswoman to recommend something for that. Even their sports bras were pretty and she decided a selection of those was all she'd need. She had some slinky undies in her suitcase, chosen to wear on her honeymoon, but she didn't even plan to take those out of her bag. Perhaps if she went to a party or some other gathering she might wear some of it, but she had no reason to believe that would happen. On the way out, though, she walked by a manikin wearing a demi bra and matching thong panties that made her stop in her tracks.

It was gorgeous. The part of the bra that would cover the inner slopes of the breasts was transparent and shaped like a butterfly's wings. The outside edges were scalloped delicately. The panties didn't cover a lot, but the back wasn't just a cord, and looked comfortable.

And ... they were black.

On impulse, she told the sales lady she wanted a set. She'd already been measured. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. It was partly because it was so beautiful, and partly because she was going to tease the wolf. Not by wearing it for him, but she was going to let him see what she'd bought. She didn't understand that urge, but also didn't think about it a lot. She just wanted to do it. She might not wear that ensemble anywhere but in her bedroom, but she wanted it.

As she was paying for her purchase, she suddenly thought about Harold. "He" was back east and even though she hadn't felt anything close to an amorous nature, she knew that would someday return.

"Can I ask you a strange question?" she asked the saleswoman.

"Go ahead," said the forty-year-old mother of two.

"Is there a store around here that sells ... um ... things of an ... uh ... adult nature?" She blushed.

The forty-year-old mother of two didn't blink an eye.

"Nope. We have to get that sort of thing from the internet."

"Thank you," said Mandy.

"Pay attention to the tracking information if you order something," said the woman. "You need to get to the mailbox before your man or children do."

"Oh!" said Mandy, smiling.

The woman smiled back.

"Good luck, honey."

"Thanks."

"Come back and see us," said the woman.

"I will," said Mandy, and took her bag out to the truck.

Ridley was forty miles away, but Bob said he didn't mind going there.

"I prefer you stay in the wonderful shape you're currently in," he said, grinning. The running shoes, once they got there, were easy. They had the brand she preferred and she knew what size to get.

Then they were back on a narrow two lane road and headed to what Mandy thought of as her temporary new life.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mandy was reminded at least a hundred times during the next day that she was a city girl, who had no business even being on a ranch, much less trying to work there. She had a stubborn streak, however, and tried to convince herself it wasn't really much worse than working in a fire-charred environment.

Bob dove into the work that had been put on hold because of the wedding. The first thing was inspecting the stock, to discover any problems that might have developed while he was gone. Mandy's new Wellingtons were soon covered with "ick" but she learned a lot about animals.

The one she liked most was Jasper, Bob's Australian cattle dog. She was sweet and looked different than any dog Mandy had ever seen. Her head was black but the rest of her body looked like somebody had thrown a bag of ashes on her, which had stuck in clumps, to a black coat underneath. She was inordinately happy to see Bob, who leaned down to rough her ears and said, "Hi, waggy tail. Did you miss me?"

"Waggy Tail" had definitely missed him, but soon abandoned him to explore this new person.

"Hi, pretty," said Mandy, reaching to fondle the dog's ears like Bob had.

"Careful," said Bob. "She doesn't much like strangers."

"Oh!" said Mandy, standing up. The dog stood on her back legs, her paws on Mandy's thighs. Her tail wagged.

"Get down," scoffed Bob. The dog did, sitting and looking up at Mandy. Her tail was still going.

"Well how about that," said Bob. "You have apparently passed the Jasper test."

"Jasper?" said Mandy.

The dog instantly stood back up, her paws on Mandy's thighs again.

"My watchdog," said Bob. "I've never seen her warm up to a stranger like that."

"She's a girl and you named her Jasper?"

Jasper whined. Mandy reached to smooth her hand over the dog's head by instinct. Jasper leaned into her hand and her tail wagged faster.

"I always give my female dogs male names," said Bob.

Mandy knelt and Jasper curled her body to lean into Mandy. Mandy stroked her back and the dog lay down, rolling over and spreading her rear legs, exposing her mottled belly.

"Good grief," snorted Bob. "She's showing obeisance. I've never seen her do that to anybody but me!"

"You poor girl," cooed Mandy, stroking the dog's belly. The skin there was soft and smooth. Jasper whined again. "Did the bad man give you a boy's name? No wonder you're confused," she continued.

"I've seen that 'poor girl' take on three coyotes at the same time," said Bob. "I hope you haven't ruined my dog."

"I haven't ruined anything," said Mandy, still stroking her new friend. "She just likes me, that's all."

"That's obvious," snorted Bob.

That had been her introduction to Jasper, and Jasper had been within fifty feet of her ever since. Whether they were indoors or out, Jasper stayed close enough that she could call her name and the dog came running.

The horses didn't mind Jasper at all. It was obvious they knew she was no threat. Mandy, on the other hand, was a stranger, and some of them shied away from her touch. Touching them at all seemed incredible to Mandy. They seemed huge, and their moving feet made her nervous. But once she'd touched a forehead, sliding her hand down to the smooth skin on the nose, Mandy was hooked. That nose felt just like Jasper's belly.

Then it was time to go find and inspect the fifty head of cattle Bob currently owned. That required Mandy to mount a horse for the first time in her life. She was terrified at first and gripped the saddle horn with both hands, the reins slack in her grip. Eventually Bob had to take the reins and lead her horse. They didn't go far, maybe half a mile, before Jasper announced with a bark that she'd found what they were looking for.

The cattle, unlike the horses, didn't care for Jasper at all. Jasper's natural instincts were to herd cattle, and she did that expertly, running back and forth, making them move toward Bob and Mandy, who sat on the horses and just waited. Eventually Jasper had herded them into a group and Bob gave a whistle, whereupon Jasper just sat down. The cattle began to wander again, away from the dog, but Bob was able to inspect them as they did so.

"Ten missing," he said.

"What does that mean?" asked Mandy, still gripping the saddle horn for dear life.

"Means we have to find them," said Bob, shrugging his shoulders. "I can't lead you and make any time. Lucy's a sweet mount and she'll behave herself. Just let her follow me and take your weight with your legs. It's going to get bumpy, but try to feel the horse's movements under you and you'll find a rhythm. Once you get that, riding will be easy."

"I don't know," moaned Mandy. "I'm scared I'll fall off."

"You might," said Bob, shrugging again. "But it won't kill you. Just get back on and try again."

"I shouldn't have done this," whined Mandy.

"Well you did, so get used to it," said Bob. "We're going to trot a bit. It's a two beat rhythm. Learn that and you'll do fine. Ready to give it a go?"

"No," complained Mandy.

"Too bad," grinned Bob through his beard.

He clicked to his horse which started off. Mandy's horse followed automatically and suddenly all she could think about was not falling off.

It seemed like she was on a carnival ride that was bouncing her up and down. She stood up instinctively and that made it a little better when her knees started acting like shock absorbers on a car. Had anyone asked her where Bob was, she couldn't have said. All her attention was on the horse. Her analytical engineer's mind centered on Bob's comment about a rhythm and she identified the two beat pattern to the horse's movements. It took her a while, but she finally figured out how to flex her knees in time with the horse's gait so that she didn't bounce so much. Her butt felt sore and she could feel the tension in her abdomen and thighs as her legs got a workout. It felt like all day, but was really only ten minutes before she lifted her head to look around.

Bob was right in front of her, about thirty feet away. Jasper was nowhere to be seen.

She wanted to stop to rest and catch her breath, but she bit her lip. She wasn't going to give up that easily. Besides, now that she wasn't bouncing so much it wasn't so bad.

She heard a bark and Bob's horse suddenly veered off to the right. Her horse followed without any command from her. She looked down to see the reins lying across the horse's mane. If they hadn't been tied together, they'd be hanging to the ground. Gathering her courage, she reached for the reins with one hand while maintaining her grip on the saddle horn with the other. That was awkward and, gingerly, she let go of the saddle horn for a few seconds.

The change was startling. Now that she was sitting up, instead of leaning forward, she was better able to match the two beats of the horse's hooves. She felt wobbly and leaned back a little, pushing her butt into the wide cantle of the saddle. That gave her a feeling of stability, even though her butt slid up and down the smooth leather there.

Bob disappeared over the horizon and a few seconds later Mandy saw the ground drop away. She leaned back automatically as Lucy started down the incline and was amazed as the ride seemed to smooth out. She saw Jasper's black and white coat flicker between some bushes and saw two cows trotting away from the dog. Two more rushed out of the brush and then a group of three followed, Jasper at their heels.

Bob's horse stopped and Lucy slowed to a walk. It was amazing how stable Mandy felt in the saddle, now that the horse was walking. She released the tension on her legs and just sat, feeling relieved. Bob turned to look at her.

"Still on?" he asked.

"If I wasn't I'd be lying on the ground a mile away," groused Mandy. "You didn't look at me once!"

"I looked at you a dozen times," he said, easily. "You were doing fine."

"I don't feel like I was doing fine," she groaned. "My butt is killing me."

"I have a salve at home," he said. "I'd be happy to rub some on for you."

"I bet you would," she growled. "No thank you, Beast."

"Your call," he said, grinning. "This is all but three and I bet those are close. You want to stay here while I have a little look-see?"

"Maybe I should," she said, relieved at the thought of not bouncing for a while.

"Be back in a few," he said. "Just put a little pressure rearward on the reins when I leave. That will keep Lucy where she is."

He whistled again and his horse jumped forward, breaking into what Mandy would later learn was a canter. He rode into the brush which was high enough to hide the horse. It looked like Bob had impossibly long legs and was running away from her. Lucy started to move and Mandy pulled back on the reins. Suddenly she was moving backwards. It took her a few seconds to realize Lucy was responding to the pressure and she eased it. The horse stopped instantly, stamped a hoof, and seemed to blow air out of its mouth loudly.

He was gone ten minutes. She saw Jasper first, who ran up to her horse and sat down, her tongue lolling.

"Hey girl," said Mandy, getting a tail-wag in response. "Where's Bob?"

The dog seemed to understand the question and turned her head. Mandy saw Bob's levitating body again and then he broke out of the brush. He slowed to a trot and then a walk as he approached her.

"Found them all," he said. "No problems. We can head back now or, if you want a longer ride, go inspect some fences."

"I think I've had enough for one day," she said. "I told you I'm a city girl." She grinned. "That said, I can't believe I chased cows on a horse. If my butt didn't hurt so much I'd say it was almost fun."

"Okay. We can get to the fences later. I've got some things to do around the barn that will give you a rest."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

By the time they got back to the barn Mandy's legs were burning. That was because she "stood" in the stirrups as much as possible to protect her aching backside. Not only that, the insides of her thighs felt like they'd been rubbed raw. As she got down off the horse she groaned. She suddenly understood why cowboys walked bowlegged.

"You okay?" asked Bob.

"No," sighed Mandy. "I don't think I have any skin left on the insides of my thighs, and I'm not going to sit down for a week."

He laughed, which she thought was rude, but then followed that up with obvious concern for her situation.

"A good, hot soak will help," he said. "And I have a salve that will make the pain go away."

"Really?" Mandy firmly believed she'd be out of commission for a week.

"You'll get used to it," he said. "All novice riders suffer the same malady, but your body will adapt as you get more experience."

"I'm not sure I want more experience," she moaned.

"You'll be fine after a hot bath," he assured her.

Twenty minutes later Mandy had decided he knew what he was talking about. Lying back in the old claw-foot tub with hot water up to her neck did feel wonderful. Most of the aches and pains she'd felt while easing down into the hot water were gone. Now only her glutes and the inside of her thighs still announced they were unhappy.

She stayed in the water until it had cooled and then, feeling years older than she was, climbed out of the tub.

There was a full length mirror hung on the back of the door and, as she toweled off, she looked critically at her image in it.

"You rode a horse today," she said to her reflection. "You chased cows!"

She turned, looking over her shoulder, expecting to see bruised ass cheeks, but they looked completely normal. Bending, she spread her legs apart and examined the insides of her thighs. They were as red and raw looking as they felt. She touched one inflamed patch of skin and the pain was instant.

Standing up, she took a look at her form again. Her breasts were full and tight, with almost no sag in them. In the cooler air of the bathroom her nipples had spiked. She had always loved it when a man touched them ... squeezed them ... sucked them. Well, that wasn't going to be happening any time soon. She'd have to take care of herself for the foreseeable future. She reached to give each a little squeeze and remembered the woman at the store telling her that, if she wanted something to help with that little problem, she'd have to order it online.

A little vision appeared in her mind of Bob coming in from getting the mail, holding a long, thin box with a return address on it that was something like "Monster Dildos 4 You". She giggled at the imagined look on his face as he held it out, saying, "Uh ... I'm guessing this is for you."

Her mind came back to the present and she roughed the towel over her wet hair. She was too tired to do anything other than just comb it out. She shouldn't have messed it up with the towel but she hadn't brought her new hair dryer into the bathroom with her. With a groan she realized she hadn't brought a comb or brush with her either.

She looked at the clean sports bra she'd brought with her and decided to forgo that. She put on one of the western shirts she'd bought and turned to look at herself again in the mirror. It fell to cover her below her hips, but was short enough she couldn't just go to her bedroom in that alone. She pulled on panties and then winced at the thought of putting clean jeans on. The next time they went to town she was going to have to invest in some sweat pants with nice, soft fleece inside the legs.

She turned and the stiff fabric of the new shirt scraped across her nipples. She made a mental note to wash all her new clothes before she wore them.

Looking at the jeans, she groaned again. Putting them on would be painful.

Going to the door she opened it a foot and looked out.

"Bob?" she yelled.

Nothing.

"Are you out there?" she called out.

When there was no answer she assumed he was still doing whatever out in the barn. She opened the door fully and tiptoed out.

"Stupid," she sighed as she realized she was trying to be quiet. There was nobody in the house to hear her!

She padded to her room and tossed the jeans on the chair sitting against the wall. When she'd first seen the room she'd wondered why there was a chair in it. Who put a chair in a bedroom? Now, though, it made a handy place to put the things she planned to put through the washer and dryer before wearing them.

The shirt scraped over her nipples again and reminded her that it needed to go on that pile, too. She unbuttoned it and shrugged out of it and flipped it on top of the jeans. In the process of doing that the muscles in her abdomen, shoulders and arms complained. All those aches and pains the hot water had taken away were returning.

She sighed and, dressed only in the panties, went to gather up all the other things that needed to be washed. She had a bundle clutched to her chest and was walking the few feet toward the chair when the door she'd left open a few inches swung wide and Bob stepped in. There was a mason jar in his hand.

That was a preview of The City Girl Blues. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «The City Girl Blues» to Cart