The Dashing Dutch

Part 21: Loyalties

"So this is the Devil's Darling? She doesn't look so frightening," Tom teased as he approached you and Richard. He was perfectly fitted in his polo outfit, shirt snug deliciously against his form and boots that looked like they've never seen the ground before today.  It was a wonder this was the same man who always had straw in his hair and filthy fingernails. Oh, how you loved those filthy hands on you, always coarse and coaxing. Nothing like Richard's smooth as butter palms.  The hands of someone who wouldn't know hard work if it hit him over the head. 

Your mind flashed to him touching you earlier and you immediately felt vexed. You initiated it but only because you thought he was beginning to suspect something.  Seducing him became a routine fix for his abhorrent behavior over time. You became rather practiced at manipulating him sexually. You left your body entirely, dreaming of Tom and wishing it was all him until it was finished. But as tight as you closed your eyes, you knew it wasn't him because those hands were too soft and they never found the right spots. Tom knew your body better than yourself.

You suddenly felt uneasy about the whole thing, about being so close to Tom after such a crude act. Your heart already chose and your conscience was filling you with a sense of shame about being with Richard physically. You felt as if you acted unfaithful towards Tom and could barely stand to look at him. What if he saw it in your eyes what you did? Could he smell it on you - Richard's stench?

You didn't respond to his jest about Darling, only continued to stroke her nose as Richard adjusted her saddle.

"Don't be deceived by her looks, Dutch," Richard smirked.
"She's more beast than most men can handle," he said and gave you a smack on the behind. You gave a little jump.
"Except for me, right Vi?" Richard leaned in to say and kissed your cheek before strolling to the other side of Darling.

You stood frozen, your palm placed on Darling's nose, head down, cheeks burning hotter as Tom's eyes continued to stare at you. You knew without looking what those eyes would say to you, the questions they would ask.
You didn't want to answer them, not now. Not while the taste of him was still in your mouth.

You swallowed and watched Tom from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched and the grip on his polo stick was white knuckled with fury. You finally summoned the courage to glance up at him and were met with a face encompassed by something short of rage, except those eyes. They were absolutely forlorn.

You held his gaze for a moment. His brow furrowed in the middle, giving him that lost and dejected appearance that proved too much for you to bear. You looked away and leaned your forehead against Darling's, letting out a slow and shaky sigh. What a tangled mess you found yourself in.

Tom cleared his throat.
"I've heard most fillies are loyal to their first," he said with a polite smile and ran a hand down her mane.
"Tell me, did you break her?" he asked and shot Richard a near death stare.

You lifted your head quickly, startled by his nerve. Thankfully Richard couldn't see your face from this angle. He glared at Tom over the saddle and sneered with contempt.

"How do you know so much about horses, Dutch? Did you ride at school? What school did you go to exactly?" Richard asked in a snobbishly prying tone.

Tom just continued to smile and held his eyes for a beat before clapping his hands together.
"Shall we start before the sun gets too low? Violet, would you do the honors?" Tom asked, handing you the ball. His fingers brushed against your palm and you felt something stroke your heart.

You took the ball hesitantly, glancing at Richard. He nodded.

Tom climbed into the saddle and fastened his helmet. Richard fiddled with his reins. You stood between them, taking a deep breath and doing your best to hold the ball steady. Tom looked down at you then over at Richard with a confident grin and declared,

"May the best man win!"