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

she’d tried to fit in at Chatham Day School, and at the country club. She’d hunched down to conceal her height. She’d tried to talk about nail polish and Rock Hudson as if she gave a darn about either of them. But deep down Peg knew her efforts were hopeless; she would never be popular—not like Carol, who ruled the smooth set at Chatham Day, Carol with her honey-blond pageboy, and star quarterback Fred Grayson as her steady. At Chatham Day, Peg would always be in the shadow of her older sister. At the stables, she could be herself, surrounded by people who thought horses were the most important thing in the world!
    And there was another reason Peg did not want to miss today’s visit to the stables: Pat Kowalski, the new stableboy. He was different from other boys, and although she had known him only a week, Peg felt strangely drawn to him. But he was often distant, responding to Peg’s questions with clipped monosyllables. To Peg, he was still an enigma.
    Here were the stables! Peg glided under the rustic wooden sign and, jumping off her bike, wheeled the vehicle into the tack room. She stood there a moment, inhaling the smells—leather, oats, and that sweaty, musky, indefinable scent that said “horses.” Then she went to greet Merrylegs, her faithful old pony. She had belonged to Peg since Peg’s ninth birthday, and it seemed not so long ago that she and Merrylegs had been part of a troupe of other little girls and their ponies. Peg sighed. Now the other ponies were sold, their former mistresses no longer interested in horses, instead inexplicably fascinated by clothes and boys. Even Marjorie and Doreen, Peg’s closest pals in the pony club days, now acted as if they didn’t know a forelock from a fetlock. Peg had heard her mother and Carol discussing her, wondering when she, too, would get past the “horse phase.” How desperately Peg wanted them to understand that she would never tire of horses!
    As she reached Merrylegs’s stall, she heard Pat’s voice. “Whisht, girl, whisht,” was all he said, in a low soothing tone, and Peg’s skin prickled. Deliberately, she sauntered down the line of stalls, trying to act casual.
    Pat was in a stall with a beautiful dappled gray mare Peg had never seen before, whose flaring nostrils and fine muzzle revealed thoroughbred blood. She stood no more than sixteen hands, Peg guessed, but every inch of her was marked by perfect conformation. Catching Peg’s scent, the new horse put her ears back, and danced away from her, crowding Pat against the wall.
    â€œWhoa!” said Pat, glancing up to see what was alarming the highbred horse. “Watch it,” he warned curtly as he caught sight of Peg standing hesitantly in the stall doorway. “Garbo’s edgy. She used to be a circus horse, and it seems she was tormented by one of the clowns.”
    â€œOh, how awful,” breathed Peg. She stood stock-still as Garbo, her ears back and her eyes rolling, tossed her head up and down rapidly. When Peg didn’t move, Garbo calmed down, and finally stretched her neck out to snuffle Peg all over. Peg was like a statue as the beautiful mare tickled her with her whiskers, sending shivers down her spine. She looked deeply into the horse’s intelligent brown eyes for a moment, then Garbo dropped her head coyly, and pretended to nibble some hay on the stall floor. In spite of herself, Peg laughed. “What a flirt you are,” she crooned, caressing Garbo’s velvety nose. The splendid animal accepted the caress, arching her neck with pleasure.
    â€œWell, you’ve certainly charmed her,” Pat observed. “Maybe you can give me a hand here, while I change her dressing.”
    â€œI’d love to!” Peg said, still lost in Garbo’s rich brown gaze.
    Peg held Garbo steady while Pat’s skillful fingers unwrapped the bandage from Garbo’s right foreleg. From her vantage