Part 6

By: Girl Bard

Disclaimer:Please see Part 1. There's some lovin' going on in this part, email me if you'd like a clean version rather that the smut I so love to write. J

    Holy shit. Did what just happened really just happen? I close the door to my room, running my hands through my hair as I flop down on the bed. I cannot believe I just kissed Dena Santoro senseless. What was I thinking? What was she thinking? How did that happen?
    I'm not regretting it; it's just a complete and total shock. One minute I was trying to tell Dena my mixed feelings about what happened with Chance, and the next thing I know we're swapping spit.
    Okay, it was much more romantic than that, but what can I say? I've never truly been kissed like that before, and I want more. Lots and lots more. But what if that isn't what Dena wants? What if she was trying to comfort me or felt sorry for me?
    We finally broke apart, and I immediately started to blush. Dena didn't say anything, just took my hand and we walked back to the barn in complete silence. It seemed like I was in a daze as I put Elmer away, and I kind of recall Dena mumbling goodnight to me as she raced up to the house.
    She's probably mortified that she did that, for Christ's sake, I'm her employee, some short girl jockey she picked up on the track, no different than a stray dog.
    I shake my head, angry at my own thoughts. Dena thinks more of me than that; she has never treated me like I was beneath her, despite her apparent wealth and my poor-as-a-church-mouse status. That is one of the things I love so much about her, how she treats everyone like they are equals. There are not many people like that.
    Another thing I love about her is her is her honesty and the way she can solve any situation just by thinking about it. I love her smile, the way her blue eyes seem to see right into my very heart.
    Letting out a tortured groan I put my head in my hands. I just can't believe I've gone and fallen in love with my boss. How stupidly pathetic and cliché is that? I'm an idiot. A total and complete idiot.
    "Gen?" Dena's low voice calls from the other side of my door. I close my eyes and debate pretending I'm not here. Maybe she'll just go away and give me a few days to come to terms with my idiocy.
    "I know you're in there, I can hear you breathing." Dena says, sounding bored.
    She can hear my breathing? What is she, a freaking superhero? Who can hear someone's breathing from the other side of a closed door? Maybe she's bluffing. Just in case, I hold my breath.
    Dena sighs. "Stop holding your breath, you'll get a headache. Just open the door."
    I give up; the woman is either insane or psychic. I throw my hands up over my head and open the door, expecting her to spew some truthful crap about what we did was stupid and it shouldn't happen again.
    Instead, I find myself backed up enough for Dena to close the door behind her. Before I know what is going on she lowers her head and presses her lips against mine. Her hands wind themselves in my hair and I wrap my arms around her back, encouraging her closer. We kiss like the world is ending, our bodies thrusting against each other until I think I am going to explode, right here and now.
    Breathless, she breaks away from me, her eyes dark blue with what I'm hoping is desire.
    "We shouldn't do this." She tells me, her rich voice barely above a whisper.
    I nod my head. "I know."
    "This is against every moral I have. It can only lead to a huge problem in our working relationship." Dena responds, her breathing growing more ragged by the minute.
    "It's the worst thing we could do." I answer, desperately wanting to suck on her pouting bottom lip. Unable to control myself, I give in to my desire.
    "Fuck it." She says into my mouth before kissing me once again.
    "I hope so." I mumble back as I gasp for air. I feel like I'm drowning in the warmth of her. These feelings are nothing like I've had or ever felt. I never want it to stop.
    We tumble backwards onto my bed, and I am in the very desirable position of having Dena on top of me. Her tall body easily covers mine as she continues to kiss me more thoroughly than I thought possible.
    My hands slip under her shirt, relishing in the smoothness of her strong back muscles. Finding the clasp to her bra, I undo it and grab the edges of her shirt.
    "Off." I command her and she sits up, straddling me. Her smile is teasing as she lifts the shirt over her head, followed quickly by her bra.
    "Dear God." I mutter, fixated on the most beautiful pair of breasts I've ever seen. Reaching out to touch them, I find the softness and weight in my hands perfect. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation of her breasts.
    Dena chuckles, a low and vibrant sound that is rich to my ears. I close my fingers around two perfect nipples, eliciting a hiss from the trainer. Liking her response, I move out from under her and she lies back on the bed, exposing her trim stomach and long torso.
    "You're incredible." I tell her as I unbutton her jeans and quickly remove them and her underwear. My eyes travel down to the gentle flair of her hips and the heavenly mound in front of me.
    If I don't taste her, I think I will die.
    She lets out a sharp hiss as I lower my mouth, reveling in the essence of her. I hum with approval as I work my tongue around her swollen clit, pausing to suck on it lightly.
    Her long fingers tangle themselves in my hair as she pulls me closer to her. I tease and lick her for a few more moments before crawling up her tall body.
    Dena's eyes, dark as the night sky, stare at my glistening mouth. I lower myself to kiss her full lips, my tongue sharing her sweet taste. As we kiss she works her hands under my clothes, deftly removing my shorts and shirt.
    Fully naked, our skin presses against one another for the first time, and I am lost in the smoothness of her body. "Perfect." I breathe against her long neck, as my fingers get lost in her wetness.
    Her hips grind against my hand and I let out a ragged moan as her graceful hand finds it's way to my own center.
    "You are so wet." She sighs, as if it's a surprise. She enters me with two fingers and we are lost in the sensation of fucking each other.
    "Since I first looked at you." I tell her truthfully, my mouth then attaching itself to her erect nipple. She shudders against me as I pump my fingers in and out of her, never ceasing my loving administration to her breasts.
    "I'm so close." Dena tells me, her fingers working frantically. The increase in her speed brings me closer to the edge and I feel as if I'm going to die from arousal.
    I feel Dena's climax before I hear it, from the sudden clenching of her muscles around my fingers and the way she presses into me. Her body shakes as she gasps and moans, trying so hard to be quiet but not really succeeding.
    As she spirals downward, she opens her incredibly blue eyes and gazes at me, her long fingers still inside me. Just seeing the expression on her face and the intensity of her gaze pushes me over the edge, and she continues to bring me the sweetest release as she wraps her other arm around my back.
    Panting and exhausted, we collapse into each other.    The overhead fan does little to clear the humid air smelling of sex from the room, but we don't care. I am content to lie in her arms and trace the line from her shoulder to her hip over and over.
    Dena is still, the only movement the erratic rise and fall of her chest and her fingers dancing over the small of my back.
    Lying in the tall woman's arms, exhausted and satisfied, I feel completely at home and safe. I don't think life could get any better than this.


    "Hi." I greet Dena shyly as we meet at the breakfast table. My entire body is still tingling from last night, and as I meet her twinkling blue eyes I feel my face flush.
    "Hi." She answers, giving me the slightest of smiles. I so badly want to take her in my arms and kiss her senseless, but I think the crowd gathered around the table would somehow object.
    "Eat up, we've got a busy day today." Dena mentions as she pours herself a glass of juice. I nod in agreement before blushing again and turning my attention to the table.
    I know Charlene is looking at me strangely, trying to figure out what is going on with me.
    "Gen's nervous." Dena explains. "And I don't blame her. She's riding Irish this afternoon."
    The group laughs, remembering my last experience with the unruly horse where I ended up in the dirt.
    I good-naturedly take their jibes, not really sure what I'm more nervous about, my first post-sex alone time with Dena or my ride to the post on the horse who is determined to make each race interesting, to say the least.
    Dena and I fell asleep in each other's arms last night, and she woke me gently by kissing my closed eyelids and up and down my face around 3:00am. I vaguely remember her telling me she had to get up and do some work, and I know I frowned and rolled over. The last thing I remember is her silently leaving my room and my alarm going off at 5:00am.
    I'm quiet at the table this morning, barely picking at my light breakfast of fruit and scrambled eggs. I never like to eat much before a race, my stomach is jumping around too much and food just makes it worse.
    Plus, I'm still upset about yesterday. Chance getting hurt was something I never expected, and Hector's notable absence from the table this morning is a glaring reminder of the colt who is still under observation at the vet's office.
    As if she's reading my mind, Dena's low voice snaps me out of my revere. "Hector called to say Chance is doing great, he's tolerating the air cast and they are going to ship him home the day after tomorrow."
    My ears perk up and I give her a small smile. "I was worried about him." I mention and Dena nods.
    "I know you were." She responds softly, gracing me with a gentle smile. "You almost ready?" She asks the table, those who are heading up to the track today nodding. "Okay, we'll leave in a half an hour." Dena then excuses herself, placing a hand on my shoulder as she slides out of the room.
    "What's up, Gen?" Charlene asks as she finishes her breakfast. "You still freaked about yesterday?"
     I nod, trying to put the memory of Chance's accident out of my mind. "Yeah."
    Charlene's gentle brown eyes look at me with concern as she gives me a sympathetic smile. "Was that your first real accident?"
    Nodding again, I finish my juice. "Yeah, I've gotten dumped a few times, like last time on Irish, but I've never had a horse break down on me before." I tell her, closing my eyes briefly.
    "I remember my first time, it was way before I was riding for Dena and it was awful." She says, buttering another piece of toast. "I was riding this nice mare, a seasoned racer, and we were making our run just around the far turn. She's passing horses like it's her business and all of a sudden, I feel it." Charlene tells me, her eyes cloudy.
    "Feel what?" I ask, dreading her answer.
    "Her front leg, just about snapped in half. She went down, I fell onto the track and I remember looking up, sure I was about to get trampled and seeing her leg dangling there. I knew she was done for." The ex-jock frowns slightly. "They wouldn't even let me stay with her, and before I knew it, I was loaded up into the ambulance and the track vet was putting her down. It was awful."
    A wave of nausea works it's way through my entire body. "How could you still race? I mean, yesterday after Chance got hurt it made me realize how meaningless the sport can be."
    Charlene shrugs. "It's part of the business. Don't get me wrong, it's unfortunate and of course I still feel bad for that mare, but when you work with horses you have to take the risks as they come. Racing has a lot of risks, and sometimes they are unavoidable."
    I stand up from the table, pushing my plate back. "I know." I excuse myself, needing to spend some quiet time with Elmer before leaving for the track. I thought I had resolved my feelings last night, but now I'm not so sure.
    Walking down to the barn, I enjoy the feel of the cool Florida morning. The weather is supposed to be perfect today, not too hot with a gentle breeze. I find Elmer at the gate to his pasture, carefully selecting wisps of hay from his pile. He raises his plain head when he sees me, his large brown eyes blinking slowly as if he's just woken up.
    I slip into his pasture, picking pieces of grass and dirt from his mane. "You laid down last night, huh buddy?" I ask, and he snorts in response. "Probably tired from that run we had."
    His gentle chewing is my only response. Slinging my arm around his high back I give him a brief hug before routinely inspecting each of his legs. I pick up each hoof, making sure his shoes are secure and free from debris, and making careful note of any unusual swellings or heat.
    He is fine and cool, like always. As I check his front left leg, the same one Chance injured, I am suddenly struck at how delicate and small this particularly part of a horse's anatomy is.
    All of their weight, over 1,000 pounds comes crashing down at 40 mph on four legs no thicker than a baseball bat, hooves no bigger in diameter than a saucer. It's a shock more horses are not injured in racing or jumping, their dainty legs, especially the front pair, are not equipped to handle such stresses.
    In the wild, horses rarely are forced to jump. And if they must, it's not 6' high jumps in a routine combined with rapid lead changes and triple combinations like they must in show jumping. Accordingly, horses are not made to suffer the intense training and repetitive strains to their developing legs that young racehorses do.
    We have taken the inherent abilities of the horse and turned them into something different for our pleasure. I'm so grateful I decided to work for Dena. I've never seen her push a horse for more than it is ready or overwork them.
    Dena's horses live as naturally as possible and seem healthier and happier than the majority of the others I have seen.
    My heart belongs to racing, as much as I hate to say it. Charlene is partially right, with everything comes a risk. I'm just glad Dena cuts down on that risk by training her horses right.
    Chance's accident wasn't her fault; if the colt was over-trained and under-rested he probably would have been more badly hurt, but because he was fresh and in perfect condition, it allowed him to stay on his feet and come away with a small, non-life-threatening fracture.
    I give Elmer a quick kiss and head for the barn, I know Dena is waiting and I've got a race to win.


    Okay, so far, not so bad. Irish surprised me by not being a monster and loading into the gate with no problem. Dena has entered him in a Grade II race today, a step up in class from his last race. She thought last time he won so convincingly that he was ready for something bigger.
    I agree, and if I can tell by his almost pleasant disposition today, Irish must agree too. Surprisingly, we are waiting for another colt to settle down before the starter releases us.
    I'm talking to Irish, keeping my voice calm and low as I tell him what a good boy he is. Instead of pinning his ears and baring his teeth at the horse in the next gate, he is looking ahead, his great dark body quivering with either anger or excitement. I hope its excitement.
    The doors spring open and Irish bolts out. Remembering my last race with him and Dena's advice to let him do what he wants without killing anybody, I guide him straight, keeping out of everyone else's way.
    It's a large field, filled with older and talented horses. I don't know if Irish has much of a chance at winning, but he's impressed me lately in his morning works. His mind seems to have less interest in killing me and more interest in running, which is a good thing.
    The first turn comes and goes and I have Irish positioned in fourth. He seems pretty relaxed, focused on the hind ends of the horses in front of us but not going after them aggressively. I can't believe the progress he's made from my first time riding him. Dena has done a lot to make him trust us more, and it's really paying off. He might be a hell of a racehorse.
    Furlong markers tick by and I start to prepare Irish for his sprint to the wire. He is shaking again now, and I realize it is with the desire to run, to win. At the precise moment, I let the slick leather slip through my hands and I yell to him.
    Like a coiled spring, Irish leaps forward and quickly overtakes the horse alongside him. He flattens his massive neck, his strides coming long and fast.
    I curl myself around his withers, trying to stay as unnoticeable as possible. This is how Irish likes to run, as if he's alone with no one riding him. The more quiet and still I am, the harder he tries. Then, when I really want him to turn on the speed, I act as if he's running away with me. When he thinks he's getting away with something, he really tries.
    Looking to my left, I see a dark horse tiring. I am forced to squeeze Irish through, slightly bumping the tiring horse in the process. Memories of Chance's accident yesterday fill my head, and I know it was right about here on the track where the entire thing happened.
    I jump in reflex, surprising Irish who slows his stride in response. Gritting my teeth, angry with myself, I resume my former position, and act like Irish is out of control and I can't stop him.
    He immediately throws himself back into the race, but it is too late. A quickly closing chestnut takes the lead as Irish fights gamely to stick his white nose in front. It's not good enough and we end up with second.
    Cursing myself as I let Irish gallop out, tears welling in my eyes. I'll never be a good jock if I can't push those kinds of memories away. My horse had a good chance of winning this race, if he hadn't slowed for that split second he probably would have won. I'm proud of him for getting second, but would have liked to win for Dena.
    Luckily, the rider who comes to collect us ignores my tears. He has his hands full preventing Irish from nipping at his horse. I pat Irish's sweaty neck and try to keep his attention away from the poor attending horse.
    Once we're in the paddock and Irish has been led away, I turn to Dena, self-conscious and nervous about what to say. We haven't been alone since last night, and I'm not sure where we really go from here.
    Clearing my throat, I run my hands through my hair and pull it loose from its braid. "I'm sorry we didn't win, it was totally my fault. I freaked when we bumped that horse and all I could think of was Chance."
    Dena's blue eyes are warm as she takes my chin in her hands and tilts my gaze to meet hers. "I'm sorry if I pushed you to race if you weren't ready. I want you to feel comfortable, and if you need some time to sit it out, I can give that to you."
    I shake my head, my eyes becoming watery again. "No, I need to ride through it. I won't let my nerves get me again, I promise."
    Dena nods in understanding. "Okay, but please know the option to sit out is open, okay?" She smiles, releasing my chin. "So, what are you doing tonight?"
    Shrugging my shoulders, I answer. "I was planning on taking Elmer on a picnic later, otherwise I'm free." I glance hopefully at her eyes, wondering what she's up too.
    "How about dinner and a movie?" Dena asks and I nod eagerly. "I think we went about this whole thing backwards. Aren't I supposed to wine and dine you before taking you to bed?"
    I giggle, enjoying the sound of her warm laughter. Dena casually puts her arm around my shoulders as we walk back to the barn.

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