Read Online Big Book Of Lesbian Horse Stories by Alisa Surkis - Free Book Online

Rauffenstein?”
    â€œWhy yes. Are you acquainted with Marlene?” Flora asked with surprise.
    â€œ Oui, cette femme débauchée . At one time, she broke my heart, and those of many others that I know.”
    â€œBroken hearts,” sighed Miss Barnard. “War has a way of producing quite a number of those, doesn’t it?” Pauline now dared to put an arm around their commander, in her rare moment of weakness, and with typical Gallic warmth, Valerie embraced all three of them.
    â€œAgain you are thinking of this Mary, n’est-ce pas ?” she queried sympathetically.
    â€œMary, Millicent, all the girls I have lost,” replied Miss Barnard.
    â€œMillicent? Why, Millicent will soon be herself again,” said Flora with a smile. “She took quite a blow to the head, but when we left the farmhouse, she had already come round.”
    Pauline felt Miss Barnard stagger, and she would have fallen if Pauline and Valerie had not supported her. “Millicent? Alive?” Miss Barnard choked out. “Can it really be true?” It was agreed that Valerie would drive Miss Barnard back while Flora and Pauline took care of the horses. “And we’ll keep this incident to ourselves, girls. No need for the superintendent or the other girls to know,” said Miss Barnard firmly.
    As she and Flora rode back over the war-torn battlefields, the sun rising behind them, Pauline realized that war was not all uniforms and glory, but also madness, despair, and death. Yet strangely enough, it had brought her a kind of inner quietude, which had taken the place of those questions to which she had so long sought the answers. For Pauline knew now, with a serene sense of inevitability, the kind of woman she was—and glancing at the woman by her side, she marveled that the path she had followed to find herself, had, in the end, led her to Flora.

T HE S TABLEBOY
    P eg rushed in the front door, nearly colliding with her younger brother, Johnny. “Hey sis, where’s the fire?” he teased. “Gangway!” Peg panted, pushing past him. Her long legs took the stairs two steps at a time as she raced up to her bedroom on the second floor of their comfortable suburban home. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, whose hands stood at 3:20. Would she make it? She tore off the crisp white shirt with the Peter Pan collar, the full plaid skirt, the loafers and bobby sox. “Hateful things!” she muttered to herself, tossing them into the back of her closet. Turning, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her lanky frame clad only in sensible cotton underwear and a tiny “training” brassiere. Peg frowned, disliking the gawky girl she saw, with her bright red hair and freckles. Not quite sixteen, she was unable to appreciate the blossoming sensuality in the full red lips, the keen intelligence shining from candid blue eyes. She saw only the length of her legs, not their shapeliness.
    Wasting no time, she pulled on her worn jodhpurs and an old flannel shirt that had belonged to her beloved Uncle Roger. She tugged on her riding boots, then clumpety-clumped down the back stairs to the kitchen, pulling on her gray wool cardigan. Johnny was taking a Coke from the fridge, balancing his baseball bat, with his mitt slung over it, on his shoulder. He was just taking a noisy gulp when they both heard the front door open and the cool patrician voice of their older sister, Carol. “Peg, are you here? We’re going to be late for the meeting of the Fall Frolic decorating committee.” In an instant, Peg was out the back door and on her bicycle.
    The autumn breeze cooled Peg’s flushed cheeks as she rode her bicycle down Meadowbrook Lane toward Chatham Stables. Her heart lightened and the pedals seemed to sing beneath her feet as she got farther away from Carol and the frightening world of femininity she represented, and closer to the stables, her true home. Oh,