Fiction Freebie!
After much dwelling and consideration I’ve decided to give away my novella, Private Lessons as a free serial/ebook.
Why am I doing this? Because Private Lessons is a plain old contemporary erotic romance. I wanted, still want, to someday write a whole series of books based at the riding school (no pun intended) Private Lessons is set at. But I am really trying to brand myself as a dark SF/F writer.
Essentially, this was fun to write, I think it’s a fun read, I want to write more, but I just can’t divert any more time away from the books and stories I’m trying to sell to try to establish myself as an erotic romance ebook author as well.
I’m skeptical of how much cross over there would be between my typical work, and stories like Private Lessons and at this point i have to face the facts; I just don’t have the time or energy to sustain two writing careers.
So here it is for free.
Private Lessons is an explicit erotic romance with a horse-lover flavor. I will be posting consecutive sections on Tuesdays until the whole thing is posted. Then I’ll post it as a free pdf on my website. Do not click the link to read more if you are offended, or bored, by adults in explicit sexual situations.
Chapter One
Dee Turner was frustrated close to tears before Sandra even stepped into ear shot. It was turning out to be a steamy day, the kind where the burning sun and thick humidity were evenly matched as annoyances with the constant interruptions that led to Dee being behind schedule and forced to do the hardest physical work of the day at the hottest point of the day. Her shirt was moist with sweat, her skin gritty with dust, and she was trying very hard to get as much done as possible between her late-morning beginners group session and the after-camp intermediate group. After that her schedule was dry erase board-shaped and filled with a dozen little squares of private and semi-private lessons.
Dee heard Sandra laughing, high, bubbly and carefree, before Sandra peered through the bars of the stall. Sunlight filtered in through the big open doors behind Sandra, outlining her in a hazy glow and casting Dee into a gloomy, sweaty darkness.
Sandra looked perfect, of course. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into one of those slick ponytails that Dee could never manage, where not a strand of hair was loose. She wore make up, which looked freshly applied, and waved a hand full of French tips, friendly-like, at Dee, who stood, pitchfork in hand, halfway through her fifteenth stall cleanup with ten more in her near future.
“You work here,” Sandra said with a bright smile. “I need you to help me out.”
The piles of manure looked enticing compared to whatever Sandra might want. She was likely just searching out the grubbiest person in the barn to make her look that much better. But Sandra had a bigger mouth than the bits and pieces horses left behind, and therefore was potentially more damaging. The dirty stalls wouldn’t complain if Dee put them off a little longer. Dee had learned very quickly how much of her job was customer service, and, out of the horses and the owners, who were the real customers.
Dee pasted on an answering smile, it was easy with the stickiness of the sweat on her face, and squeezed her way past the wheelbarrow in the stall door. “What can I do for you, Miss Wallis?”
Dee spotted the man with Sandra only after crawling past the soiled sawdust. He stood further back, barely inside the barn, looking out over the fields. Those fields were the reason Sandra had moved her horses into Deepdale Acres’ care. In the competition off season there was plenty of room to let her horses have a real vacation.
The man with Sandra looked about as perfect as Sandra did. His red T-shirt and blue jeans were perfect for a trip to the barn, but they were still brightly covered, crisp and spotless. He was well built, even if there was a layer of fat over what she could see of his arms, softening them from something monstrous into something pleasantly male. His hair, a colorless dishwater blond, was pulled back into a short ponytail as well, his at the back of his neck rather than bouncing at the top of his head like Sandra’s. He had a vacant sort of smile on his face, and a pleasantly lost look to his eyes.
Yes, he was the type of male Sandra would bring in. Obedient and handsome and probably about as smart as a turd. He turned to them and looked at Dee as if he’d never seen a woman sweating, on edge, smeared with mud, saw dust and horse hair, before. Dee tried to give him a friendly smile as well, but she couldn’t screen out the suspicion that he only worked up a sweat when he visited whatever over-priced gym he kept a membership with.
“We want to go for a ride,” Sandra was saying. Dee tore her obvious stare away from the man-accessory behind Sandra and tried to pay attention. “It’ll take forever for me to groom and saddle two horses, so I hoped I could talk you into helping me. Just for a bit.”
Sandra looked at Dee with a happy sort of pleading look on her face. The tears threatened to rise again. No, cleaning all the stalls in ninety degree heat after being up at six a.m. to feed the horses so that the owners could ride early, before the heat really kicked in, then having to clean up after the boarders and kids taking lessons before feeding the horses again, none of that was enough. Now she had to stop everything to saddle a horse for Sandra so that she could show off for her date without getting too much horse hair on her name brand T-shirt.
Dee wanted to go back into the stall and answer Sandra with a good hard poke from the pitchfork, but instead she tried not to scowl and said, “Sure, I have a minute.”
So she found herself standing in one of the freshly cleaned stalls, listening to Sandra laugh and the low rumbling of her male friend speaking back to her. Dancer, Sandra’s Dutch Warmblood mare mostly cooperated, other than an attempted nip when Dee bent over to brush down the mare’s hind legs. Sandra, so helpfully, set her spare saddle out on top of her tack trunk, with the bridle slung over it. In fifteen minutes both horses were brushed, saddled and mounted and Dee stood in the barn doorway watching their rear ends vanishing toward the trails surrounding the farm, feeling only slightly more gritty than she had before.
She idly hoped Sandra got thrown right in front of her boy toy, but she wouldn’t. Sandra was probably the best rider in the barn. She had three horses, each one worth more alone that Dee’s truck, and she had mentioned, more than once, that the horses would only be stabled at Deepdale when they weren’t competing or in special training.
There was a group of the stable people at Deepdale that showed horses, but none of them toured the country in a matching RV and horse trailer, both air conditioned, while doing so, save for Sandra. A four hour drive was the furthest Dee had ever had to transport horses for an event, and that had been a special case, when the barn drill team made it to the state level show.
Dee never competed. There was no time. When she got the job as stable manager she’d been in heaven, for about a day, until she realized her dreams of exercising a horse, then dismounting, handing the reins over to a stable boy before stepping over to another ring, still in pristine breeches and shiny boots, to instruct a group of starry-eyed child beginners, were way beyond idealistic thinking. In the first month she’d cleaned out more stalls than she could count. Three months in she’d moved into the little cottage at the back of the property, behind the closest paddock. She’d been spending so much time at work she’d figured renting the cottage would just make things easier. It was two months before Jessie, the stable owner, thought to put her on a horse and finally declared her riding skills serviceable.
Today Dee had been looking forward to only half a day at work, before Aaron, the full time stable hand, had called in sick. He wasn’t they type to lie, or shirk work, but Dee couldn’t help griping at him under her breath as she got back to work. Aaron, at least would have had some joke or smart ass comment to make that would have made Dee forget that she’d just seen one of the most attractive men she’d probably ever see, and she’d been angry, sweat and filthy when she’d done it. At least the day couldn’t get much worse.
* * *
She’d waited too long to dump the wheelbarrow. Dee suspected it as soon as the single wheel left the wood ramp and hit the softer surface of the mound of compressed sawdust and manure. Sure enough the wheelbarrow hit a divot and tipped. Dee braced herself to get a better grip and the bedding shifted under her. Her ankle followed, twisting in the bedding and throwing her off the side of the manure pile into the gravel beside it.
“Oh, crap, are you all right?”
Hands caught the wheelbarrow, keeping it from dumping itself on top of her. Once the wheelbarrow was stabilized the hands move to help her. Dee looked up, with a fluttering stomach, directly into the pale hazel eyes of Sandra’s riding buddy.
“Did you twist your ankle? Hang on a minute, don’t move.”
Before she could protest he squatted down and slid his arms under her. Dee never thought of herself as a small woman. She was tall, broad, and had rather pronounced curves. But Sandra’s stud muffin barely let his breath hitch before he stood again and carried her into the barn.
“Is there an office?”
“Over there,” Dee gesture, probably in the right direction. Between feeling absolutely ridiculous at being carried like a child and the sharp throbbing in her ankle the tears of frustration came again and she couldn’t stop it this time. Mr. Handsome found the office and laid her gently on the worn green leather couch inside.
“Are you all right? Do I need to call an ambulance or something?”
Dee tried to stop sobbing, sure it made her look only that much worse. She heard voices and a moment later heads started peeking through the office door. “I’m okay, really. I’m just…it’s been a bad day.”
“Are you sure? That looked like a nasty fall.”
“There was plenty of manure to soften it,” Dee answered waspishly.
Mr. Gorgeous smiled down at her. She thought he was laughing at her, but it was possible that he was just good-natured. Maybe he was smiling down at her in the hope that his cheer was infectious. And maybe he really was standing there laughing at her. Dee let the tears take over for one pitiful moment.
Then Sandra walked into the office, her piercing gray-blue eyes taking in the scene. “What happened?”
“Miss…” Mr. Handsome began.
“Dee.”
“Dee twisted her ankle. I brought her in here so she didn’t have to walk on it.”
Dee fought the tears back down. It was easier to hide behind a mask of pride and stubbornness with Sandra peering down at her over her boyfriend’s shoulder. Bless him for not mentioning where she fell.
Sandra pushed past her male friend and squatted at Dee’s feet. She pulled Dee’s pant leg up, revealing a pale expanse of leg that needed to be shaved, and peeled the once white sock down. Dee’s face burned at the careful inspection she was getting. Her ankle didn’t feel good, it throbbed at her angrily, but it wasn’t bruised or swollen either. Dee expected to see Sandra wrinkle her nose as she leaned back onto her heels, but she didn’t.
“Well, I think it’s just a light twist. We can call an ambulance if you’d like?” Sandra watched Dee and waited.
Dee shook her head. “No, I’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s all right.”
She tried to smile reassuringly. Sandra took it. She stood and turned to her boy-toy. “Are you ready to head out? We’ve been gone for over an hour. I’m starved.”
Mr. Handsome nodded. “I hope you feel better soon,” he said to Dee.
With a little wave from one of those strong hands that had given her chills when they touched her Mr. Boy-toy followed Ms. Perfect out of the office and potentially out of Dee’s life forever.