The End of my Honor

It was a stormy night in Austrian May. Caught in the midst of the rain, I led my palomino stallion into the stable. There, the scent of hay overwhelmed my steed and he happily walked away from me. I stood, entranced by a different scent: the musk of our stableboy, Jean Claude. Embarassed by my attire, I shyly muttered a "hello" in his direction. Jean Claude, dressed in only dark brown trousers, came closer. I allowed my eyelids to flutter only slightly as I took in his figure. I had always admired from afar, and this truly was a treat for me. Jean Claude, 13 years my senior, was a beautiful man. He too, took me in. My brown hair, turned an afro of frizz by the humid storm, my gangly limbs that I had yet to grow in to, my roman nose. I knew tonight would be one to remember.

"You're wet", he observed. The blood rose to my cheeks that he would announce such a thing! Noticing my blush, he followed up with. "Well, it was raining". My face calmed, but my heart continued to quicken. His arms, tanned and brute from years of benchpressing mules rose to cover me. "I'll keep you warm", he whispered in my ear. And that he did.

When we awoke, the horse had had its fill of hay, and I had had my fill of Jean Claude. Completely figuratively, of course - I am no hussy. But that night, had been one full of wonder, intrigue, and new experiences. I returned to my home, luckily no one had even known I left. As I melted back into family life, my memories of that evening dimmed, though never left my side.

I never saw Jean Claude again.

Don't stop smiling!

:0)