Chapter 1

We all have the image of ourselves that we project to the world, whether it be good, bad or indifferent, the one that we allow others to see. The projected self doesn't allow the others in to know our innermost secrets and desires. Sometimes we think that if the world and our friends knew what we were really thinking or dreaming, they would think less of us. In some cases, I found that to be true.

The outer me was a dutiful daughter, carrying on after my father's death, raising the horses that had been our family's living for several generations. The inner me was crying for relief - someone to understand me, help me know myself, to love me and share my wildest thoughts and dreams, the things I hadn't ever dared speak aloud. I had tried, but the infrequent visits to the bars and sometimes bedrooms left me feeling dirty and empty, ashamed of my desires.

Home was the High Plains, that plateau of ground between the Red River valley and the Badlands of North Dakota, a featureless but beautiful landscape. Harsh in winter and summer alike, it gave no quarter to the unprepared or weak. Somewhere near the middle was the town of Chandler, a few miles from the Interstate and a century behind in its thinking. I lived 6 miles north of town on a gravel road, in the farmhouse where I was born. Bismarck was 100 miles away in one direction, Fargo 100 miles in the other.

My Mother died when I was very young. My only memories of her are of caring hands and faint perfume. Pop was a pragmatic soul; when he realized that he wasn't going to have sons to help on the farm, he taught me what he knew - how to hunt and shoot, how to ride, and how to protect myself. I can take a deer at 250 yards, survive a blizzard and drive a tractor in a straight line. My problem lies with people.

I was protected from everything except my emotions, and those forbidden thoughts that kept surfacing in my head. Guys have always been friends. I got along better with most guys than anyone I know. They were easy to talk to, joke with, and be around. It's the girls I got tongue-tied over, especially the average looking ones like me.

Since I was raised on a farm, I've never lacked for food or exercise, and my body shows it. I'm 5'10" and 150 pounds, and I've been teased about my ample ass and childbearing hips. My breasts are firm and bullet shaped, the dark nipples puffy and prominent. I wear my hair just below shoulder length, a medium brown like everywhere else.

I prepared for the storm like I always did, closing the shutters on the upstairs windows and securing the pasture gate. I'd seen it building since early afternoon in the west and the thunder was audible in the distance as I finished.

I saw the shape walking down the road a few minutes later, the silhouette of the back pack and cap going north. Too far away for me to tell who or what it was, I knew they were lost. The road ended some 500 yards past my driveway, becoming a rutted track between the fields. I opened a beer and sat under the deep overhang of the porch, waiting.

It started to sprinkle, the main part of the storm still off to the west. The shape returned, jogging south on the road and turning into my drive. As it got closer I could see bare midriff and shorts, the white sneakers a blur as she ran toward the house. The rain began in earnest, the wind rising with it, hammering the drops on the tin roof of the porch.

A hundred yards away she slipped and fell, then got up and walked, head down in resignation, trudging toward me through the pouring rain. She reached the steps and climbed up, smiling with her hand out.

Taking off her cap, she shook her hair and said, "Hi, I'm Lisa Ferguson."

"Hi. Carolyn Schuler."

"It's a little wet out," she giggled.

"Come on in and dry off."

"I don't want to mess up your floor. You sure?"

"It's ok, come on in," I said, opening the door.

She stepped into the living room and took off her pack, leaning it against the wall. Soaked to the skin, she shivered as she took off her shirt, revealing a sports bra beneath. She had a pierced navel, and the blue stone nestled in the dimple matched her eyes. Her shorts were muddy, the scratch on her knee still bled a little, and her once white shoes were filthy.

"Take off your shoes," I said.

"I don't want to bother you. If you have someplace I can change I'll be on my way as soon as it lets up."

"You aren't going anywhere soon; it's going to rain like this all night," I replied.

"What!" she cried.

"Yep, it's only the end of May: It could still snow," I said.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed, opening her pack.

She pulled out a few items of clothing, most of which were as wet as what she was wearing.

"Shit!" she said disgustedly, "It's all wet!"

"Have you eaten yet?" I asked.

"No. Not since breakfast," she replied.

"I made stew for supper and the bathroom's right through there," I said pointing. "I'll get you something to wear and we can dry your things while we eat."

She took off her socks and walked to the bathroom with me behind her. She smelled like all hitchhikers do, the bland sour odor of too many hours between showers.

"Why don't you take a shower while you're in there? I'll get you a robe," I said.

"You sure?" she asked, looking at me dubiously.

"Positive, go ahead," I replied.

She closed the door and I imagined her body nude under the spray as I went to my bedroom and picked up an old robe. Long and fuzzy, it would keep her warm.

I tapped on the door and said, "The robe is hanging on the door handle."

I heard a muffled "Ok" in reply as I walked away.

I heard the water stop after a while and checked the stew, setting the table for two.

She came out with her clothes in her hands and asked, "Where should I put these?"

"Give them to me," I replied, holding out my hand. I opened the washer and dropped them in, then returned to the kitchen.

"Let's eat. We can wash clothes later," I said with a smile.

My robe looked good on her, the tie accenting her slim waist and boyish hips. There was a tiny gold ball in her left nostril, almost invisible unless you knew where to look. She'd washed her hair and clipped it back, exposing her long neck. Pale-skinned with shoulder-length light brown hair and long eyelashes, she was beautifully feminine. I couldn't see her breasts, but I imagined them hanging free.

She sat back as she finished and said, "That was good!"

"Thanks," I replied. "Ready for dessert? I have apple pie."

"Yes, please," she smiled.

After supper I piled the dishes in the sink and said, "Let's get your things."

She dragged the pack to the utility room and began emptying it, throwing things in the washer. Black and pink lacy underwear, shorts, socks, T-shirts, another sports bra in black and a couple of white filmy things were dropped in, and I started it up.

I asked, "Sure all the pockets are empty?"

She nodded and asked, "Do you have any paper towels? The rest of the stuff is damp too."

"Bring it into the front room," I replied, reaching for the roll.

We sat on the couch and I watched her remove her things from the pack and dry them. A small cosmetic bag, a couple of photo albums and a tiny jewelry box. Opening the box, she took out a gold band and slipped it onto her ring finger.

"You married?" I asked in a surprised voice.

"Yeah, kinda," she replied, busying herself with the albums.

Sensing she didn't want to talk about it, I didn't pry.

I laid a fire and lit it, listening to the rain beating on the roof in waves with the wind. I went to the kitchen and brought back two beers, handing her one.

"I'm not 21," she said guiltily, taking it from my hand.

"Who cares?" I replied. "There's no cops around."

She laughed and took a swallow, propping her feet up on the coffee table. I couldn't help but notice her pretty long toes with their pink nails, and the longer tendons of her feet and ankles standing out in relief.

She began looking through one of the albums, sipping from her bottle and gazing quietly at the pages.

I scooted closer and said, "Your family?"

"Mm-hm," she replied, turning it so I could see.

"That's my brother Stephen and me; there's my dog. That's Mom and Dad in front of the house, and there's my two sisters," she said as she flipped the pages.

There were a lot of pictures toward the end of the album of her and another girl, apparently taken over several years. The pair in swim suits at a lake about 10 years old, then other poses in different places at increasing ages, ending with the most recent, a shot of her and the girl with their arms around each other smiling at the camera.

"Another sister?" I asked.

"No, that's Lucy, she's my best friend," she replied.

"She didn't want to come with you?" I inquired.

"She couldn't, her family moved away," she replied, her voice husky.

I got up and went to the kitchen, bringing back the brandy bottle and two glasses.

"Here," I said, "This will warm you up."

She cradled the glass in her hands and took a sip, murmuring, "Thanks."

"So where you headed?" I asked.

"Seattle," she replied.

"How did you end up here, I mean on this road? It doesn't go anywhere," I chuckled.

"The last guy I caught a ride with said it was a shortcut," she told me.

"Some shortcut!" I scoffed.

"I think he wanted me to ride a little longer with him. He kept looking at my legs and stuff," she blushed.

"That's what men do," I smiled.

"I started to yell and he got scared I guess, and dumped me out. I didn't say anything, but I was as scared as he was," she said.

"You're lucky," I replied.

"Seattle is where Lucy lives," she said softly, her head down and her eyes brimming with tears.

She closed the album and sat back, closing her eyes. I suddenly understood why she was going to Seattle and why she was wearing a wedding band. I was envious for a moment, thinking she was very fortunate to be so in love.

To break the mood I got up and said, "Let's go swap loads, ok?"

She followed and I put things in the dryer while she loaded the washer. After twisting the knobs, we returned to the living room and I poured us a refill.

She stared at her glass for a while, then said, "I'm going to be with her."

"I know," I said.

"We've been together for a long time. I miss her," she said.

I left her to cry silently, the tears dripping from her cheeks. I folded what was dry and returned to the living room, stacking it on the coffee table.

"Here you go," I said.

"Thanks," she said. "I didn't mean to unload all my emotional baggage on you," smiling up at me.

"No problem," I replied. "Pain shared is pain cut in half. I'm glad I was here."

"Well, I feel stupid now, dumping all my problems on you," she laughed.

"It's ok, really," I said, "but I have to get up and do chores in the morning. I've got horses to feed."

"I can crash right here," she said, indicating the couch.

"There's an empty room across the hall from me," I said. "It used to be mine, you're welcome to the bed in there."

"Thanks," she said, getting up.

"Need something to sleep in?" I asked.

"I use a T-shirt," she replied, picking one from the pile on the coffee table.

She followed me up the stairs and I showed her my old room, complete with posters and stuffed animals on the bed.

"Bathroom is next door if you need it," I said. "G'nite."

"G'nite Carolyn," she smiled.

I took several deep breaths as I quietly closed my door, aware I was trembling. Desire, loneliness, fear, all the emotions of the past months surfaced at once. The need was almost overwhelming, my motions automatic.

I undressed quickly, shucking my jeans and shirt into the hamper, bra and sticky panties into the basket. I wrapped a towel around my hips and walked across the hall to shower, perversely hoping she'd peek out her door. She didn't, and five minutes later I was back in my room, clean and damp. I lay down and relived the conversation with her, my fingers gently stroking alongside my clit. Mental images of her imagined body played through my mind, kindling a heat in my groin. Release came quickly, the tension spreading upward from my puss to make my nipples hard, and the pressure within eased. I curled on my side and hugged my pillow, trying to sleep.

I woke up before the alarm went off, tired and sweaty. Untangling the sheets from my legs, I dressed and went down to make coffee. While it perked I went to the barn and pitched some hay and made sure the water fountain was full. I came back in the house and took a shower, dressing in shorts and top.

The day was dull and overcast with a slight drizzle and I hoped she would wake up soon. I wanted to know more about her and Lucy. What cements a relationship of that kind? Would I ever be as lucky? How did they meet, what did they do for fun? So many questions! I went upstairs to pee and see if she was awake: I was anxious to talk. Her door was ajar, and I couldn't resist peeking.

She was on her side, her left knee level with her hip with her left arm over her head. Her right leg was stretched out and I could see her T-shirt bunched around her hips. Taking a step closer, I looked between her legs. There were no panties to block my view of her sparsely furred sex, a smooth crease with two small petals of skin protruding from the bottom, near her anus. Dime sized, they were pinkish brown and dry with tiny wrinkles on the edges, one atop the other. The tiny puckered star of her anus was surrounded by downy hair, a tan dent between the globes of her small butt. I leaned closer, inhaling a musky scent I knew to be her. Gazing at her loveliness, I wondered if she had masturbated too, perhaps thinking of me.

Realizing where I was and what I was doing, I backed up and left the room quietly but quickly, for fear of being caught. I went to my dresser and slipped a panty liner into my underwear, knowing I'd need it before the day was over. I was into my second cup of coffee before my breathing slowed to normal.

The rain was coming down harder around eleven o'clock and she appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

"Hi. Want coffee?" I said.

"Mmm-hmm, thank you," she replied.

Still dressed in her T-shirt, I could see the points of her nipples tenting the fabric. Knowing she didn't have anything under it made me gulp my coffee, trying to think of something else.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

"Wonderful. It's so quiet," she said.

"Sometimes at night I can hear the trucks on the Interstate," I said.

"I didn't hear a thing," she smiled.

"The last of your clothes are in the dryer and I washed your sneakers for you. They're hanging outside on the porch," I said.

"Thanks, but you didn't have to do that," she replied.

"I know," I smiled.

She looked out the window at the rain, smiling with some memory or another as she sipped her coffee.

"Can I ask you some questions?" I ventured.

"Sure," she replied.

"When did you met Lucy?" I asked.

"At school. She was the new kid in third grade," she smiled.

"Did you become friends right away?" I asked.

"Yeah, we were hot and heavy into Barbies then, and she had a big collection. We used to trade one or two for a week at a time," she said.

"And then?" I asked.

"The usual. Sleepovers and Brownies, sharing notes on homework, stuff like that," she said.

"Mmm," I said, sipping coffee.

"Then when we were about 12 or 13 things started to get physical. Our bodies went through some changes and we began to notice what they were capable of feeling. We kissed like crazy for awhile, and that led to other things," she laughed.

"You were lovers all through high school?" I asked, my mouth agape.

"Yeah, we kept it hush-hush for a little while, and then the other girls started to notice, so we came out," she said.

"I could never do that here," I said sadly.

"Why not?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"I have to drive to Bismarck or Fargo and go to the bars," I said. "There aren't any gay girls in Chandler."

"There's probably more than you think. They're still in the closet," she laughed.

"What about your parents?" I asked.

"My Mom won't talk to me, but my Dad and my brother are ok with it," she said.

"That's nice they accept you," I said.

"My mother doesn't want me around my two younger sisters, but you're right, it's nice," she smiled.

"When did you get married?" I asked.

"You picked up on that, didn't you?" she giggled.

"I saw the look on your face when you slipped the ring onto your finger," I said.

"Mmmm. Well, last year we were juniors, and we had this impromptu ceremony after school one day. There were a few other girls there, and we exchanged rings and vows. It was a very emotional thing," she smiled.

"My folks are both dead," I said, "but I'm sure they wouldn't approve."

"Why not?" she asked. "It's not wrong - it's just different."

"Several years ago there used to be a farmhouse over that way," I said, pointing west. "A girl named Rebecca lived there. We were the only two girls around for miles, and we did everything together, much like you and Lucy. It was our 12th summer, and we rode and swam in the creek and played hide and seek. It was wonderful."

"And?" she asked.

"We grew little boobies and some fuzz between our legs, and curiosity got the best of us. We were up in the hayloft, touching each other, sniffing and kissing, pinching our little nubbins; playing more or less. Neither of us knew anything, and just the excitement of being naked with another person my age was enough," I said.

"Mmmm," she nodded.

"My Dad must have watched us for awhile. We didn't hear him climb the ladder. I was leaning to kiss her stomach when he yelled, 'What are you two doing?' I froze, and he said, 'Come down out of there'. We got dressed and climbed down, and he sent Rebecca home. He took me to the house and sent me to my room. When it got dark, he came for me and dragged me out to the barn again and made me strip off my clothes."