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SARATOGA
Motherfucker! muttered Jimmy, and for the first time called on his baby to come again. Instead of the reluctant ‘Biche he knew, instant response. Gracie kept on at the same speed, which was not slow, and Jimmy went to the crop. Arabiche was beyond horse sense, digging deep. Seeing the dark little animal coming up on the rail, Gracie fought back. ‘Biche fought harder, gaining by inches. Unbelievably, Gracie faltered, and Jimmy felt a wild surge, drunk with power, taking aim on the favorites, his mind empty of everything but the magnificent potential of this best-ever lifetime ride. Sure as hell never had this much horse under him before. HOLLY AT THE G-SPOT
And prim slim Cinnamon could get down. Smooth and cool, not a whole lot of motion, but dancing in the zone, eyelids lowered. Words would just be superfluous, and Len Thomas had initiated many seductions on dance floors. He had no problem reading her classy little East Coast style, and shortly, with no change in expression, she began to open it up a little. No problem, no words. Hippest couple on the floor. He picked up on her and moved back just a little so she could see what he was doing, then threw in some things ... which she picked up quickly, then getting a little more intricate with her foot thing, which he observed with respect. Little test. He hooked up with it, making the shift as the band started a fresh chorus .... On a dance floor impulse she glanced below his belt and he caught her. Hot, thought Len Thomas. Man, this woman is Hot. Cool, thought Holly St. Cyr. This guy is fun. |