Chapter 20: Almost a New Year

We woke late the next morning, returned to Sophie’s house, showered, dressed, and left. Mom swore a bunch when we began the road trip home, but soon switched to singing Christmas tunes. I texted Julia and Sunshine goodbye, but they didn’t respond until early afternoon, by which time we had arrived in LA.

“Fuck, I just can’t drive anymore. Everything down there hurts, and I need to stretch,” Mom said and took the next exit off the highway. My ass and pussy hurt also, but I didn’t complain, nor did I say anything when Mom decided to drive home instead of allowing me to spend the day in bed, or even to say goodbye in person. Moms taken huge things before, Lisa’s fist at the party, little Willy’s dick, but I guess she’s never had two hands inside her at the same time. And Sophie slammed her hands in, aggressive even for me. She even hinted that she and Dad have done some kinky stuff.

I almost called Mom selfish for wanting to stop because of her actions last night, but I agreed that we needed to get out of the car, however, visions of getting murdered in East LA ran through my mind, and I opened my mouth to argue when I saw the billboard, ‘Largest Light Maze in the World. One Mile.’

“Let’s go there, it’ll be fun,” I said and pointed to the billboard. Mom missed it, and I had to explain as she looked for a hotel, which I also had to find, because how blind can you get while driving? We turned into a French hotel, Le Méridien Pasedina Aracadia, which had a pool and a hot tub and overlooked the maze. They gave us a room with two queen beds, and Mom fell asleep almost as soon as we entered the room.

I stared out the window at the massive park and debated what I wanted to do. I had slept in the car and felt restless and ready for some fun. Dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers, with my hair pulled back in a ponytail, I kissed Mom on the forehead and went for a walk in the park.

The maze looked magical. Mom and I would definitely go later. Lights everywhere and horses. Real live horses. They had a horse racing track, so that meant I couldn’t ride them, but still, horses.

A young lady rode a beautiful brown horse around and around the track. Her dark hair flew behind her, waved with each gallop, while she leaned over the horse’s muscled neck. The steam from the horse’s mouth wafted backward as it churned up the dirt and mud. Her little body moved as if part of the horse, eyes focused forward, hands light on the reins, back with a slight bend, and a massive smile. The girl wore a green outfit, with high brown riding boots, and a black helmet.

I watched the pair gallop, trot, walk, and repeat. Each time they came around, a blond lady, who stood rigid with a lined face, in a long black coat, and held a stopwatch, yelled out times. I couldn’t understand the numbers because of her Texas drawl, and the cool breeze whisked away the sound.

A few other people watched, primarily young children with families. Around and around, the horse ran while I watched, until they finished and walked, the trainer beside them, towards the tunnel beside the bleachers where I stood.

“You like horses?” a boy asked. Short, with messy brown hair, dirty blue jeans, cowboy boots, and an oversized plaid jacket, he had lost his top two front teeth.

“Yes, who doesn’t?” I said and watched the horse’s thigh muscle ripple under its perfect brown coat while I leaned on the bent, metal railing that wobbled.

“Me. I hate cleaning up after them,” the boy said and hopped over the railing and climbed down to the sandy dirt. The railing clanged and shook but didn’t fall, although a loose board cracked and almost fell off.

“Jason, what you doing, boy?” the lady asked the boy as he joined them. They looked nothing alike, she had a long, thin face, while he had a round face. Maybe the eyes, but I couldn’t see anything else.

“Nothing,” he said as he grabbed the reins, “Just talked with the fans.”

“Oh, hey, do you like horses?” the girl, about my age, yelled up to me, with a frown like models have when they walk the runway. She sat on the horse as if part of it. I remember Tasha once said that the idea of Centaurs came from the first horseback riders, which, seeing the girl on the horse, I could believe.

“Of course,” I said and leaned over the rail to talk with her. The metal groaned and tinged.

Her eyes came alive as she looked up at me, and a slight smirk appeared on her face. “Well, if you’d help brush her down, you can meet Jackpot,” the girl said and gestured for me to join them. She reached forward and stroked the neck of Jackpot, the hairs shone in the overhead light as her hand passed.

I bounced over the railing, climbed a couple of feet down, then jumped the remaining few feet onto the mud, which stupid, because I wore shoes and the mud splattered onto my pants and soaked my socks. The area smelled like fresh dirt, mud, and the musk of horses.

“Stupid choice of shoes,” the girl said. She didn’t have the drawl of her mother, but she had the same thin face and thin, sharp nose, different eyes, though, much wider apart than her mother’s, and much bigger.

I followed the three of them, the boy, Jason, at my side, while his mother talked about time splits with the girl, who just nodded and agreed.

“Jason, you finish the mucking, Sal, you and your new friend can join me for a warm drink after you finish the rub down,” the mother said, and turned into a concrete hallway with a dirt trail down the middle and horse stuff on the walls.

“I’m Margot,” I said and offered my hand to the girl, who just glanced at it as if it had shit on it, and nodded.

“Kind of name’s that? Sounds foreign,” Jason said as he picked up a shovel, longer than he was tall.

“I like it,” the girl said as she hopped off the horse and landed in the only clean spot in the wooden stall. Beside us, a horse neighed, while above us, footsteps from the stands echoed. In the distance, someone else scraped the concrete floor and muttered about too much shit.

“So do I, but it still sounds foreign, like German or Japanese or something,” Jason said as he shoveled so old hay out of the stall. The smell of horse, leather, and straw made me smile. I loved that smell and could spend my life doing this. I swear, in another life, I must have lived as a cowboy or something.

“Here, it’s French, right?” Sal said as she handed me a brush. She removed the tack and blanket and arranged some horse stuff around the spacious stall.

“Yeah.” I brushed the amazing animal, slow, along the neck, almost a caress. I could feel its lunges breath, its heart beat, and the firm, strong, large muscles under my other hand as it rested on Jackpot’s shoulder.

“Do what I do, Jack’s a baby and super docile, so don’t worry about a kick or anything,” Sal said as she brushed.

We brushed while Jason did all the heavy work.

When we finished, Sal put a warm coat over Jackpot and led me through the barn, down a couple of hallways, until we arrived at a small office, where her mother sat, with a bottle of bourbon and a carafe of coffee.

“You want some?” she said as she poured each of us a mug.

“So, you like horses, but do you like horses?” the mother asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I didn’t understand what she meant. She implied something, but no way would she imply that.

“Because they are expensive beasts, I mean, real expensive, especially racing ones, and you can never have just one,” the mother said and added more bourbon to the mug, which said, ‘Horse Lover’ and had a red silhouette of a horse.

I figured she meant to offer me a ride for a small fee, which, if they didn’t charge too much, I would totally pay.

“Mom, I’m done, I’m heading home to play video games,” Jason yelled from down the hallway.

“Love you, dearest,” his mother yelled back and stared at me.

“We are part of this horse lovers group. A special horse lovers group,” she said, and sipped her coffee.

“Oh, like a club?” I asked. Likely, you needed a license to take people for horse rides, but if they join a special club, for a day, they can ride the horse, for that day.

“Sal’s better on the internet than me, and she recognized you,” the mother said.

Sal sipped her coffee and frowned, but her eyes twinkled and had smile lines beside them.

“She follows this girl online, well, we both follow her, part of her club, that you might know,” the mother said with a smile, only her mouth, not her eyes, which remained stern and fixed on me. Abigail, they must have seen me on Abigail’s site. Shit. Double shit.

“A while back, she posted this interesting scavenger hunt, where one of the contestants took some truly large objects inside her, and even had a video of her with a horse.”

Fuck. Double fuck. Triple, quadripual fuck.

“Sal, she’s not,” she held the word for a moment as she searched for an explanation, “as capable as some of our club members want. But you, you would be, and as you have the perfect look, young and sweet, with perky breasts, and small hips, and the two of you, together, would make us a lot of money, which we would share.”

I gulped the rest of my drink. The bourbon burned, and she refilled my mug with straight liquor. My head spun with alcohol and beastly thoughts.

“Before you say no, why don’t we take you to meet our stud. You may like him, he’s not very big, well, for a horse anyway.”

I followed them through a different tunnel.

“We keep our personal horse here, in the less expensive stall. This is Honeypot. Officially Sal’s horse, but we share,” the mother said with a smile while she pointed to a pony, every girl’s dream. My dream. White back and mane, brown belly and legs, maybe just under six feet. It stared at me while Sal walked over and stroked and rubbed Honeypot’s deep brown, lustrous muzzle. I joined her and placed my hand on Honeypot’s neck, just below the crest. Warm, almost hot, with coarse, perfect hair, Honeypot smelled sweet, musky, with a mix of oats and the characteristic horse smell, but pony-sized, perfect sized. I loved Honeypot the moment our energies touched.

“It’s going to take an evening to get everything lined up, so why don’t you think on it, and if it’s a yes, we’ll do it tomorrow morning, bright an’ early, but if it’s a no, well, no hard feelings, horseplay is not for everyone.” I heard her, as if she spoke far off, from a great distance. Honeypot’s dark eye stared at me as if it wanted me as a friend, someone else to love it, which I did, with my whole heart.

“Mom, can I hang out with Margot tonight?” Sal asked, even though I barely knew her and never asked, but at that moment, I would have said yes to anything.

“Sure, just be home for breakfast.”

Mom’s text broke the spell and brought me back to earth. We agreed to meet up near the maze, and with a reluctance and a pain in my heart, I unstuck my hand from Honeypot’s mane and followed Sal out of the barn.

“You don’t really want to go in there, it’s boring, and there are little kids everywhere,” Sal said, with a slight whine in her voice that made her sound much younger and caused me to scrutinize her. She had a nose ring, small, between her nostrils, like a bull, and with her hair pulled up, a small red heart with a black silhouette of the horse peeked out from behind her ear. Both ears had six or seven studs in them. The back of her neck had Chinese symbols along her spine that disappeared under her shirt. As I continued to look, I noticed a small white bird tattoo on her left inner wrist, a black rose on her right outer wrist with the black stem running down to her third knuckle.

“Mom will enjoy it,” I said, and wanted to ask about her various tattoos, but didn’t know where to start. She gave off an air of confidence and a fuck-you-world, this-is-who-I-am attitude. I wish Fenna could meet her, they would get along so well.

“Well, ok, then I will give you the tour,” Sal said as she increased the length of her stride. Her small ass swayed back and forth with each over stride, almost as if she wanted me to notice it.

Mom joined us. After a short introduction, we went to a special entrance for employees that Sal knew about, so we didn’t have to pay admission. We walked down the midway, grease smells, donut smells, Christmas music, and outrageous prices for everything.

“You have to order from someone you know, or knows you. We locals don’t pay as much. What do you want to eat?” Sal asked as she maneuvered us to a hamburger truck, where she ordered a corn dog for me, a pretzel for Mom, three hamburgers, a larger order of fries, drinks, and everything cost less than one hamburger meal.

“You just have to know who you’re ordering from,” Sal said as she guided us to a table behind the truck. The table had burns and broken wood, but didn’t have any tourists around it like all the others on the midway.

“Is this the horse lover?” an overweight Hispanic man asked when we went to the back door for our food. He leered at me, like he knew, or thought he knew, either way it made me uncomfortable, and I almost said no right then and there.

“Yes,” Sal said as she handed me a brown box filled with a burger and two orders of fries.

“Oh, she’s cute,” a small, older Hispanic lady said from behind him.

“He’s a horse fan,” she said, which made sense why we paid so little, but also, what the fuck?

“Do you race horses?” Mom asked as we sat down with the mound of food.

“Sure do. Spend all my time with them,” Sal said with a smile, the first since she rode Jackpot, and she did have a nice smile, although she had crooked lower teeth.

“You must love horses,” Mom said just before she took a bite of her pretzel, which she glanced at, then put to the side.

“Everything about them, well, except for the shit, but my brother Jason has to do the mucking now,” Sal said with a chuckle. She took a bite of her hamburger, and the tomato fell out and landed on her hand. She shoved the whole piece into her mouth as she chewed with her mouth open.

“Margot likes horses, ever since she was a little girl. Do you offer rides?” Mom asked and nibbled on her burger. I didn’t like the corn dog much, but ate it anyway. The hamburger didn’t taste right, but I enjoyed the fries.

“Only to special club members, it’s a legal thing,” Sal said. Mom nodded as if she understood.

“Let’s hit the maze,” Mom said, having only had a single bit of her burger and pretzel. We still had a lot of food left over, which Sal scooped up and gave to a homeless man who sat behind a gift shack.

“That was nice of you to feed the homeless,” I said, and Mom gave me a dirty look. We had very different views on people experiencing homelessness.