We drive, patrolling the same length of road over and again, James fiddling endlessly with his equipment, trying to find some trace of the signal, but without success.
At length, we pull up by the front of a small diner. Nearer the City, such a place would be open twenty-four-seven, but here, in this lonely spot, it lies closed, the windows dark.
Michael’s breathing is heavy, and even in the dim light, I can see his whitened knuckles as he grips at the steering wheel, staring up and out.
James watches him for a moment….
His closest friend….
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft.
Michael’s reply is a wounded snarl. “What do you imagine?”
“Well of course, Charlotte. Something specific?”
Am I in the way here?
They want to talk...
…. Not that I can go anywhere...
Just stay quiet....
Try to give them some privacy...
Michael sucks in breath. “I was thinking about that noise she makes. You know the one, when she’s good and aroused, getting close to coming, sort of a cross between a moan and a wail…”
His words stab at me with an unsettling familiarity….
Elizabeth....
of hers when I'm building her
Her eyes on me....
Her beautiful submission....
is very still. “Yeah.… It’s a good sound, isn’t
moment, Michael catches my eyes in the rear-view mirror. Then, looking away again, “Shall we move on? See if a different area gives
taps at his keyboard, bringing up another window.
*****
Seven Years Ago
canter into the yard, assorted pairs
and everyone has found work to do outside. Brett, wearing faded overalls, touches up blistered paint on the sheds, giving her a wave as she passes.
keep the muck off his shirt, helps. Well-muscled from hard physical work, he’s a handsome sight. Some
looks are spoiled by his slit-eyed scowl as, seeing Jenny, he turns
curve from shoulder to
the reins for her as
bright and enthusiastic. “Am
first started. She’s a good horse for a learner, but you’ve come on
head twists and Mrs Collier's eyes follow her to where a silver-grey stallion struts around the ring like moonlight on hooves. “No, not Dancer. He's a challenge for even the best.” Jenny’s face falls, but Mrs Collier continues, “No, in fact, we were thinking of buying another mare for breeding. We thought you might like to come with us when
widens. “I can choose
commercial operation here and we have to be practical. But if we narrow it down to two or three we think might be suitable, you could tell us which one
“Oh, yes!”
*****
Jenny?” Mrs Collier’s voice is bland,
rippling with the breeze. Certainly, she’s been presented to look her best. Jenny’s head tilts as she zeros in on some feature. “Do you think she’s walking as she should? She looks to me as though she’s favouring the near hind a
you.” She swings around. “Riley, what are you trying to foist on me? I