The Solo Ride

I exited the train, strode down the wooden platform and saw him standing just past the turnstiles. Tall and handsome in a grey sweater, tan jodhpurs and brown riding boots, he was unmistakably my guide for the day.

“Hello,” I said to him in his native tongue. The five days prior in this European country had perfected my accent.

“Hello,” he replied, a look of slight surprise on his face.

We walked out towards his car in tandem and in silence.

“How are you?” I asked, nearing the limits of my recently acquired skill in his language.

“I’m very good,” he replied, a crooked smile alighting his face, “And you?”

“Very good.”

“You speak my language?” he asked.

“No, not well,” I said, reverting to English, “I do try though.”

“What you know is very good.”

“I have a good ear, but limited vocabulary.”

He glanced over at me as he opened the door to his car, a ghost of his first surprise still haunting his features.

“I hope I haven’t kept the rest of the group waiting,” I said, referring to my slightly late arrival.

“There is no one else,” he said.

“What?” I replied, confused. I thought I had scheduled this village and countryside ride along with a group of other horse enthusiasts.

“There is just you, so no one is waiting,” he confirmed.


Three weeks earlier…

I was sitting at my desk planning this European work trip with a few personal days tacked on the end when it occurred to me that, in all my travels, some of the most memorable experiences have been on top of a beautiful, willing mount, and, that I might be able to find a guided horseback ride in or near the city. 

Within an hour I had selected two providers who offered rides during my stay and had emailed them for more details. The one I preferred was a ride through the country, giving me the opportunity to escape the centuries old city which was to be my working location for a week prior. A day among the walls and surrounding forest of a medieval European village? Yes please. 

I paid my half deposit and quietly looked forward to this personal treat for the next few weeks. And through all this it simply never occurred to me that it wasn’t a group ride. 


Just me, I thought. With this stunning man as my guide. This certainly was going to be a treat. 

“That is ok, yes?” He asked, his brown eyes twinkling. 

“Yes,” I said smiling, “It’s perfect.” 

He closed my door and climbed in the driver side. The car started with a creaking squeak as he jammed it into first gear. He didn’t get the car out of third before we arrived at the stables. 

But they weren’t stables. Not as I know them. These were charming horse cottages built of stone and lined up next to one another with rich, wooded doors and moss covered shingles that all surrounded a cobblestone courtyard. I was enchanted. 

“It’s breathtaking!” I exclaimed, slowly spinning to take it all in. 

“Welcome to my home,” he said, obviously pleased at my reaction. 

“Wait… you live here?”

“Yes, just here,” he motioned to a tall stone house behind a rose covered wall, “Come along so I can get you outfitted with a helmet and half chaps.” 

I followed obediently past the wall and through the iron gate and then inside to his kitchen. 

to be continued…

14 thoughts on “The Solo Ride

  1. Hey Marian,

    I just read your post about getting a full body massage and being fully nude. Well I just got one which is why I found your script however mine was with underwear on and from a professional therapist like you. The way you wrote that really made me intrigued and told myself I need to find this women she just had me interested just from reading her story! The fact that you were turned on being naked and his hand all over you just did me in :) I am a male 24 years of age and I LOVE massages I hope to hear back maybe we can chat :) I totally enjoyed my release …..

Talk to me. Please.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s