by M. C. Cerny
“I’m fine with you handling my transaction, darlin’.” The way he slowly said transaction, my imagination ran away with me. I thought for a brief second he might have meant something else entirely different. It was impossible and yet, I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. I previously thought he might have been apathetic, maybe indifferent to me, but he finally smiled and I felt the mutual buzz between us. You know how the air changes before a storm and electricity seems to hover over everything waiting for a spark. That was me.
“Alright, Mister…” I realized I didn’t know his name as the paper was handed to me over the counter. Carefully, I avoided physical contact so I didn’t embarrass myself further.
“Sloan Tanner. I own the Rocking Star Ranch outside of Karim.” I never heard of the ranch or the man before me, but it was unlikely I would forget his face after today. I had a hundred questions I wanted to ask him. What kind of ranch? Where was it? Why name it the Rocking Star? I couldn’t keep up with my own mind asking the questions, so instead I tried to focus on opening his account.
“Follow me, please.” Ducking my head, I walked around my counter and to the desk where the customer service reps usually sat. It wasn’t busy, and my manager, Alexis Nightly, was out of the office today courting new accounts. I wished she was here, but a simple transfer I could handle. I had done plenty of them in my previous branch before. Sitting down, I adjusted my plain, black A-line skirt in the rolling seat, and then I motioned for him to sit down while I pulled up the proper computer screen and account information.
“It will just take a moment to pull up the accounts.” I swallowed my nervousness down and looked at the blue screen waiting. I tapped my pen on the counter, nervously waiting for the screen to change.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
He took the pen from my grasp and put it in his shirt pocket, smiling. I must have been annoying him, and my fingers stung from the quickness with which he removed the pen from my grasp. Even the cup of pens was out of my reach, so I went with an apology instead.
“Sorry,” I expressed, focusing my attention on the screen.
“I usually do my banking once a month and I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, miss?” He rested his black cowboy hat on the end of the desk. He sat back in the chair, his legs parted and jeans tightly covering his thick legs.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the vision of those legs tangled up in mine. I had to get myself under control, and now I was down a pen to manipulate my anxiousness.
“Langley, Langley Dawson.” It came out as a squeak from my throat, and I cleared it proceeding to type his information into the computer and pressing print on the documents.
He repeated my name with a whisper, like he was testing it out on his lips, the slight Texan drawl doing things to me I denied.
“Never seen you in here before,” he said, moving the cup of pens I couldn’t reach before into my range.
I answered as I picked out another pen with the bank logo on it and clicked it nervously. “I suppose not. I just moved to town—job transfer.”
His head cocked to the side and then he took the second pen from my hand, gently snatching it from between my agitated fingers. Pretty soon I would run out of pens and apologies.
“Sorry,” I grumbled. He probably found me annoying, while I couldn’t seem to stop the ache between my thighs and shifted on the seat behind the desk.
Smiling tightly, he spoke again in his southern drawl sucking me deeper under his spell.
“My ranch is about two hours south of town,” he answered my unasked question conversationally.
“Huh,” I husked, looking up. “Seems far to come all the way here just for banking.” The printer finished its jig-sawing sound spitting out paper, and I handed him the forms to sign with my stolen pen. I felt like an amateur, my comment holding little weight between us and almost sounding insulting which wasn’t my intent. He returned the papers to me, and I shuffled them together, placing them into a file folder for my manager to review. He smiled, pocketing my pen again, and stood up to leave. At this rate, the bank would be out of pens.
“Karim has its…unique offerings.” He made it sound like there was something more, something I didn’t know about my new home. They say curiosity killed the cat, and I wanted to desperately ask when he would return to town, since he only came once a month, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t have that kind of courage, and with regret, I let the words hang between us.
We both stood and my heart seemed lodged in my throat, a heavy anchor pulling me down, preventing me from speaking. He grabbed his hat, covered his head, and nodded politely as if to say goodbye.
Part of me kicked myself for letting him go when he reached the door, turning to look at me. I half-raised my hand in goodbye and caught a glimpse of his lips curling as he turned again walking away. My hand went down, immediately feeling foolish. I had nothing to offer a man like Sloan Tanner. My mother’s voice echoed in my head with negativity I didn’t need.
My eyes followed him walking out with sure strides. He nodded to my manager who returned as they crossed each other at the door’s threshold. Alexis’ eyes widened at me, a smile pursing her lips when he said something to her I couldn’t hear through the glass and metal of the building. She shrugged her shoulders at Mr. Tanner who left, and I wondered if I would see him a month from now, and if I would be helping him do another bank transfer.
2
Sloan
Langley Dawson was a submissive. The wide-eyed blonde didn’t know it, likely had no clue, but I was certain she was a natural. It was in the subtle way she tilted her head down, the way her shoulders peppered with goose bumps, and the tentative expressions that creased her face. I had to hold my hat over my groin when she shyly called me sir inside the bank. A feat that was difficult to accomplish given my own rigid control and she had no idea the power she wielded behind her honey-colored eyes.
Wispy bangs covered her forehead, and I wondered how they would look damp with sweat from a good fucking. Would they curl at the edges like little devil horns, or would they stick to her skin all slick, darkening the blonde color to a light dirty brown.
She had no idea what doors could open for her by moving to Karim, Texas. Our community was small and The Club itself by invitation only. I toyed with the idea of inviting her to newbie night this weekend, but now wasn’t the time. I had business to finish, a sub to release from our contract, and a ranch that was getting ready for cattle season. I didn’t have time for distractions. Langley Dawson would have to wait.
I stopped her bank manager, Alexis Nightly, on my way out the door. I wasn’t surprised when Alexis warned me off. In fact, her words were: Langley is a good girl, too green, a budding rose among savages, and, not your type–cowboy. We used to play occasionally, before I took subs out to the ranch for the full immersed experience. She knew the moment she locked eyes with me that I had thrown my rope out for Langley.
Langley was young, but no so young I was going to break any laws if I pursued her. Jailbait held no interest for me. I hadn’t realized I had a type, but over the years of playing at The Club, I supposed Alexis would know.
Instead, Alexis suggested something else that, under other circumstances, I might have entertained to play later tonight. Nothing was more refreshing to me then a willing partner who was amiable to skirting the edges of pain and pleasure so freely. Unfortunately, Alexis had been known to often try topping from the bottom. Today, I wasn’t in the mood to discipline a switch. Besides, I’d left my favorite flogger at home not intending for this trip to be anything more than what it was—a bank transfer and the dissolution of a contract. Ranching was hard enough and my last sub quickly lost my interest when she found out I didn’t plan to move back to Karim preferring the comforts of my ranch. That was the problem with city girls, they had expectations I had no desire to fulfill. The very reason my contracts were specific and short term. Anything else bred complications I did
n’t wish to explore.
Langley, however, posed a different sort of quest in my mind. She was green but not completely innocent. I imagined her previous partners as fumbling college boys who were studying to join their fathers’ businesses at positions they didn’t earn. They were boys who had no concept of what hard work was and no stomach for manual labor with their soft hands and juvenile moves.
I didn’t want someone else coming in swooping her out from under me…literally.
* * * * *
The Club was packed for a Friday night, but considering it was a night where new members were cordially invited and scouted for membership, I wasn’t surprised. Exchanging my denim jeans and hat for a suit was easy enough and made me fit in. A cowboy in a suit was still a cowboy at heart. You might be surprised how much money a well-run cattle farm and horse stud could make these days.
Sitting down in a corner booth, I ordered a double shot of whiskey, my only drink for the night. I waited for my ex-sub, Chelsea, to join. Typically, when an arrangement ended between me and a submissive, I sent my sub on her merry way with a parting gift of her choosing. Some tell their friends they had an exciting job opportunity or a brief internship and everyone walks away happy. Chelsea Vega decided she wanted a permanent fixture on her finger in the weight of several carats and a house in town. She would be lucky with her student loans paid off and not getting her pretty little ass banned from The Club if she became more persistent. I gave her credit for her efforts, but upon getting to the ranch, she’d been nothing more than a whiny brat I had zero patience for during one of the tougher cattle seasons in years. I needed to enter my house in a certain mindset; domination worked for me, which was our agreement, not pitiful fake tears and thousands of dollars spent on Zon Prime purchases to fill her supposed boredom. I didn’t expect a housekeeper, but for Christ’s sake the girl could have picked up after herself at least once during her stay. Thinking about the brief chaos she’d caused made my stomach sour.
Light refracted from the cut crystal glass, and the whiskey lost some of its dark hue reminding me of a certain young woman I was trying to put out of my mind. A fortifying sip let the aged liquor burn a path down to my stomach in a steady flow, easing the previous sourness into a gentle burn. There seemed to be no escaping my newest obsession no matter how hard I tried though I had only met her hours earlier. The ranch was an easy place to refocus my goals, mulling over the dozen or so responsibilities that awaited my return. My mind ran over the list when an old friend sat down next to me.
Lorand Duvall.
A man with a bit of mystery surrounding him. I didn’t ask too many questions, and he didn’t field too many answers. It was probably best that way. I suspected his true work was of a dubious nature, maybe something undercover or military in nature from the way he held himself and appeared hyper-vigilant of his surroundings. Even sitting with me inside the booth, he took up a defensive posture like he was waiting for something to happen. Lorand was a man with many layers, none of which were my business.
“What brings you out tonight?” I asked, taking another drink.
“Meeting someone later.” Lorand motioned to a waiter who brought us fresh drinks but didn’t elaborate, not that I expected him to considering his demeanor.
“Sounds ominous.” I watched his face transform into a smirk.
“It can be. She’s rather difficult.”
“Ah. She being of the female variety.”
“Indeed.” He said, sipping his drink.
We sipped our drinks in silence as was our custom.
“I have some new mares coming to the ranch if you’re interested.” I said, breaking the silence. “My stallion Blackjack will be breeding at least two of them.” I knew Lorand had enjoyed coming to the ranch. It seemed as if my ranch was a calming place for him during his few visits over the years. He would relax, and the edge he carried on his shoulders would soften slightly. No matter my offers for him to stay up at the main house, he’d always seemed content to stay in the bunk house. He would work on the ranch for a week or two at a time riding horses and doing hard labor on his own. There seemed to be something cleansing about it, and it suited me fine to have the help especially with someone knowledgeable and eager to work.
“I would like that. Things have been…complicated.”
We nodded and he said nothing more. I wasn’t about to intrude or nag him into divulging whatever it was that seemed to be occupying his mind. We were merely acquaintances with common interests.
“Anytime. Just call.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Lorand tapped the table and got up to leave. Our exchange was nothing odd or new. Lorand Duvall remained reticent and as long as he wasn’t bringing trouble to my doorstep, I wasn’t overly concerned with the details. He would either tell me or not, and I was patient to wait him out. What I did notice was that he didn’t take up with any of the women who blatantly offered themselves to him. I was no connoisseur on the male gender, had no bias; men were not my sexual preference. I saw many variations of attraction here at The Club to satisfy most any need.
For the first time, I wondered about my mysterious friend Lorand and if he had a similar affliction to mine—simply that our fillies weren’t yet members here. I watched him walk away, sliding in between patrons of The Club virtually disappearing within the crowd. It took a certain level of stealth and mastery I could appreciate, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.
“Howdy, Cowboy.” The shrill voice interrupted my thoughts.
However, none of that mattered since Chelsea finally decided to grace me with her presence.
3
Langley
I survived my first month in Karim unscathed much to my mother’s surprise and to my own personal joy. I managed to carve out a routine for myself including pizza night once a week and yoga three times. I preferred the grocery store on the far side of town—better produce, and the gas station around the corner was two cents cheaper on Tuesdays. While some might feel those were boring and mundane things, I drew comfort from knowing I could handle being here on my own. Next week I planned on taking my co-workers up on their offer to hang out after work for a drink or two. My mother’s phone calls were every other day now instead of daily. Slowly, I was severing the cord she pulled tightly, and each call made it easier to breathe a sigh of relief knowing I’d made the right decision.
Today was the first Friday of the month and also a payday which meant I had been busy non-stop cashing and depositing paychecks for the citizens of Karim. My feet ached inside my low-heeled shoes as I balled my toes inside the cramped leather soles, and my hair loosened from the French braid it had started out as this morning. The rubber band pulled out easy, and the locks unwound from the braid effortlessly, falling freely down my back in blonde kinks. It felt good to not have it pulled back tight. Stretching my back did little to ease the ache in my shoulders. It would seem I was sore from my head to my toes after all.
“It feels like today will never end.” A groaning voice shared my misery. Alexis stood behind me holding a cup of coffee in her hands. She still managed to look as crisp as she did this morning in her fitted navy suit and nude platform pumps. I wondered how she managed to stay so put together. I guessed it was something that came with age judging her to be in her early thirties, attractive, and successful if her shiny white BMW in the parking lot was any indication.
“I agree, but a little longer and then we can enjoy the weekend.” We were close to the end of the banking transaction day and anything else that came in, while technically processed wouldn’t post until Monday. I slipped a lock of hair behind my ear, looking forward to a long bubble bath. A glass of wine sounded nice. I had a bottle of a local white wine I’d picked up at the farmer’s market sitting in my fridge all week. It had begun looking lonely next to my no-pulp orange juice and mixed berry yogurt. Even the mixed berry yogurt was a step outside my norm from plain vanilla and strawberry. With a good book on my kindle also waiting for me, I decide
d right then that Karim had only brought out good things for me since I’d arrived, including how I spent my free time without judgment from my mother or anyone else.
“Well look at what the cat dragged in.” Speaking of which, Alexis nudged me, and I dropped my penny roll letting it bounce and skip off the counter. I was distracted by the explosion of pennies rolling on the floor, ducking behind the counter to catch what I could.
“Langley.” Stunned, I heard that voice with the power to dry up my throat like the hot Texas sun I wasn’t acclimated too yet. I may as well had been a opossum playing dead. My hands cramped holding pennies, fingers fumbling to hold them all as my body slowly betrayed me with each unsteady inch I rose above the teller counter to see him. Sloan Tanner had the languid demeanor of a hunter stalking prey.
I hadn’t seen Sloan in a month. He told me his visits to town were infrequent, and this was the first time I saw him here since that day a month ago. However, I did keep a pressed white rose from the small bunch of flowers he’d sent to the bank the next day. The note signed on a heavy cardstock thanked me for helping him with his transaction. It seemed an odd gift for spending no more than five minutes with him. It was thoughtful, nice even, but perhaps extravagant. No one had ever sent me flowers before.
I remembered their heady floral scent that filled my apartment for days. It was as if he had invaded my rented space with those flowers. Even when they withered and died a slow death he had still been with me, invading my thoughts each day I returned home to see them on my counter. I’d hated throwing them out when they reached well past their prime and saved the largest bloom of the bunch pressed flat between the pages of my favorite copy of Anna Karenina. I was nearly as indecisive and vulnerable as the characters in my book.