Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 by Back in the Saddle (v5.0)

continue our lesson another time.” He winked and walked
away.
    The ass on him just wouldn’t quit!
    He abruptly turned, catching me staring
at his butt. With a knowing smile, he said, “Oh, and before the day is through
I will amend your drinking problem.” He nodded to my empty plastic cup. “I
wouldn’t want you to say I spilled your drink and didn’t refill your cup.” He
gave me a smile and a nod before he was gone.
    I mentally wiped the drool off my
chin.
    Back at the beer line, my head was
drifting. I went over every word we spoke in detail. Every look. Every weird
change of mood. I dissected everything, as one did with a new crush, and figured
that the weird up’s and down’s was probably stress. He had a lot going on, and
my yapping at him wasn’t helping.
    Good talk, though. He might be
unreachable, but I had touched him!
    Tee hee!
    “Excuse me, ma’am?”
    It took me a second to realize the
words were directed at the side of my head.
    A decent looking man stood next to
me, awaiting my attention.
    “Yes?”
    “Well, it’s just that I was
wonderin’ what you was laughin’ at?” His lips curved into a smile.
    The only reason I could fathom him
caring was to get me into bed. Still, he was attractive—I didn’t want to be
rude.
    “Oh nothing. Just thinking.”
    I turned my gaze, nonchalantly of
course, to a man flopping around on the back of a wildly bucking horse in the
middle of the arena. He didn’t have a saddle, and the way his legs were pumping
into the air, he looked like an upside-down leap frog. “Why does he kick the
horse as he hangs on?”
    “Well, now, why don’t you just come
right down over here and I’ll explain to ya.”
    “You don’t have to be so formal
about sitting, but okay.”
    I followed him to the stands. Once
seated, he slid a little closer until his thigh was brushing mine. I noticed
what must be his friends off to the side, sitting in a group and looking down
at us with smirks.
    I rolled my eyes. I hated when boys
ruined a good moment by trying to show off for their friends. Plus, there were
a lot of them, they were strangers, there was beer flowing, and I was alone.
This was not a good situation for me to be in. It was probably time to go find
my married friend.
    “I must ask you, darlin’, why you
look like yer sweatin’ like a whore in church?”
    My brain stuttered a moment. All I
heard was sweat and whore.
    About ready to tell him where he
could shove it, I noticed his eyes glance down at my damp shirt.
    Ah, the spilled beer.
    Still, what the f**k?
    “Yeah, I spilled some beer on
myself," I answered, looking away with disinterest. "Well, someone
scared me, and I spilled on myself and him.”
    “Ain’t that a bitch, huh? An’ he
didn’t buy ya another?”
    “No. Well, anyway, I should—“
    “Well, I am a far better gentleman
than that,” he cut me off, leaning closer, wanting to keep my attention. “But
it ‘pears you already got one so we’ll go back to bareback ridin’, though it’s
about done now.”
    I did a double take, exit strategy
momentarily forgotten. “Did you say bareback riding?”
    His eyebrows creased as he nodded.
    I looked back at the arena in
slight disbelief, laughter bubbling up. “You call it.... you said... you call
it bare back riding!” I was doubling over in hysterics. It wasn’t really this
funny-- oh wait, in the land of the homophobe, it was. It was really this
funny.
    I calmed down and caught him
looking back at his friends. When his gaze came back to rest on me with a
halfcocked smile, I explained, “Where I come from, we refer to bare-backing as
a....well, two dudes going at it without…ah...a raincoat.”
    Confusion turned to disgust and he
turned away. Which shouldn’t have shocked me. Many men couldn’t handle speaking
about g*y men. I knew this. Gay women, oh yeah, they were all ears. It was a
stupid double-standard that irritated me. But my disquiet grew exponentially
with the level of hate and