"Come on, Rose, don't do this to me!" I pleaded under my breath. Groveling was the first thing that came to mind.
"Why do you have to be such a hussy? Doing it at home is one thing, but please, not in front of all these people! I just moved here. I have no friends. Can't you take a little pity on me?"
The only sign that she heard was a swish of her long, silken tresses as she slowed the pace even further. So much for appealing to her sense of humanity.
"Fine. We'll do this the hard way." I kicked my leg at her. Another kick.
Nothing. Not even a twitch. It was time to move on to threats of bodily harm.
"I swear to god, if you stop and do your thing in front of you-know-who, I will beat you when we get home. You will have marks. Hideous scars. I'll break your stupid legs."
Obviously I wouldn't, and she knew of my penchant for hyperbole. Plus, I was way too nice, and she had my number. On the rare occasion that I felt brave enough to correct her, it was always me who ended up hurting. And sometimes bruised.
I could feel it coming. She was getting ready, and of course the wench would pick the worst moment for the debacle. He was closing the distance and soon would be directly behind us. I erupted into full-fledged panic mode. I kicked and slapped, but she treated me as if I were no more than a pesky fly.
He was just about to move around us when she stopped dead in her tracks, spread her long legs, and stuck her fat rear end in his friend's face. With her mouth gaping open and upper lip curled, the harlot moaned and grunted. Then her voluptuous rump squirted a stream of clear liquid onto Emmett's legs.
Oh. My. God.
Even though I had worried about exposing Rose and her salacious tendencies to the general public, I had never imagined it would be this bad. I covered my face in abject humiliation as the onlookers laughed and pointed. But I didn't care as much about them as I did about the angel behind me, and there was no way I could stand to see the horrified expression that must be on Edward Cullen's perfectly gorgeous face.
Two things were now official.
1. This was the most embarrassing moment of my life.
2. I had a raging slut-bag for a horse.
Testing the waters to see if there's any interest for me to continue. I'm excited to try something a little lighter than Onscreen Chemistry.
The mare in this chapter is based on my first horse who did indeed pull a stunt like that on me. Sadly, there was no Edward Cullen behind us, so the incident had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I did love that perpetually-PMSing girl, though, and my heart broke into pieces when she died. You never forget your first.
ps-I love and respect animals. This story will touch upon some training practices that I find distasteful, and my writing will reflect that. YMMV.