Then Ashley pushed through the crowd. “Brittany! Where have you been?” she complained, ignoring Julie completely. “This party is dead, but dead.”
Julie’s glow evaporated as she watched Ashley preening before Brittany. Sure, Ashley hadn’t even placed in the top ten this season, but she still made Julie insecure. Like Brittany, she had money, and the kind of clothes and hair that came with it. She fit in.
Brittany paused for a moment, and looked Ashley up and down. “Dead? Yes, Blaine did invite a few too many corpses. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to introduce Julie around.” She slipped her arm around Julie and led her away, while Ashley’s face went slack with shock.
Julie relaxed into Brittany’s tan, toned arm and took another gulp of her drink. Somehow, with an alcoholic beverage in one hand and Brittany’s arm around her it was easier to talk and laugh with these people in their white Guess jeans. Her earlier shyness seemed like a distant memory as Julie told a rapt audience about the first time she rode Lady Snow.
“I was fourteen years old,” she said, her eyes dreamy. “And one day I showed up at Hunterdon for a lesson and I see this beautiful gray Trakehner in one of the stalls. I couldn’t believe it when Liz told me that she was mine!” Julie stopped herself before she blurted out that she had never imagined that her dad, a baker in Jersey City, would be able to scrape together enough money to buy her a horse—that was a part of the story she knew no one in this crowd would understand.
One of the trainers asked, “Liz Halstead? I forgot she was still at Hunterdon. You remember Liz, don’t you, Brittany?”
“Vaguely,” said Brittany. Julie recalled that Liz had been one of Brittany’s early rivals. But she’d dropped out of competition just before the Grand Prix. Julie had always wondered why.
“Go on, Julie, tell us more about Lady Snow,” Brittany urged her, handing her a fresh drink.
“Anyways,” Julie continued, slurring her words a little, “I just knew—the first time I rode Lady Snow, and I felt those muscles, and how responsive she was, you know? Like she knew what I was thinking before I thought it.”
“She’s sure some horse,” the trainer commented. “And she’s really hitting top form at the right time. What is it? Less than a month now until the Grand Prix?”
“She seems decent enough,” said Ashley, who had joined the group midway through Julie’s story. “But you don’t actually expect to ride a Trakehner in the Grand Prix, do you?” She added smugly, “Father bought me a Hanoverian.”
Julie was crushed. She didn’t have the right pants for this crowd, and she didn’t have the right horse. She looked at the glass in her hand. It was empty again. If she could just have another gin and tonic, she knew she would feel better.
And then Brittany was there, with a gin and tonic in one hand, and a small cigarette in the other. A cigarette with a sweetish scent. A joint. Julie took the drink but hesitated a moment when Brittany offered her the joint. Then she saw Ashley looking at the joint, her eyes glittering with hunger. Julie took the joint. For once, someone else would be on the outside looking in.
At first Julie thought the marijuana had left her unaffected, but then she began to notice things. The pleasant haze that seemed to cover everything, the insistent beat of the music. It was as if Julie had never really heard the Pet Shop Boys before. The joint was passed around the circle before Ashley got hold of it. There was a comical desperation to the way Ashley drew in on the remains of the joint and Julie found herself laughing. She looked around, embarrassed, but everyone was laughing right along with her. Julie finally fit in.
“Come on, Julie, dance with me!” Brittany commanded suddenly, pulling Julie to her. As Julie started to dance, the memory she’d been trying to push away for weeks came flooding over her as intensely as if she were reliving it—reliving The Incident.
She was back in the tack room at Hunterdon, listening to an old Carpenters song, and Liz was swaying to the plaintive music. As if for a joke, Julie had started to dance with her—had put her hands on Liz’s firm hips—then around her waist—and Liz had let her. But suddenly it had all turned sour. Julie, giving in to years of longing, tried to pull Liz closer, tried to sneak a knee in between Liz’s sturdy thighs. Liz had pushed her away, glaring, practically frothing with shock and anger. “I can’t—you’re not—you don’t know what you’re doing. Just get away from me, kid!”
Julie’s cheeks grew hot just thinking about it. The rejection had hurt, and now Liz was barely speaking to her except for that blah blah about drugs. But it wasn’t the Carpenters playing now, it was Bruce Springsteen crooning on the stereo, and this wasn’t Liz, it was Brittany.
Julie found herself swaying to Brittany’s seductive rhythm. Brittany looked at her through half-closed eyes, and placed light hands on Julie’s hips. Trembling inside, Julie clasped her hands behind Brittany’s neck. She’d made a mistake with Liz, but this was no mistake because Brittany only smiled, and pulled her closer. Then suddenly, the music stopped. They both turned to see what had happened. Blaine was there, taking the record off the turntable.
“This blue-collar stuff is getting me down,” he complained. “This party needs some livening up!”
“Blaine!” Brittany let go of Julie and hurried over to Blaine, while Julie stood there, feeling suddenly empty. Brittany kissed Blaine and they stood talking and laughing. Julie couldn’t help remembering the rumors she’d heard—that Brittany and Blaine were more than first cousins. Julie didn’t believe them. People just made stuff up because Brittany stayed with him in the Florida condo, and sometimes they shared a hotel room.
Julie decided she’d get another gin and tonic while Brittany and Blaine talked. She wanted to keep this good feeling going. At the bar, she caught the scent of marijuana and realized the group next to her was passing around a joint. Yes, more pot—that would help too. Julie inhaled the sweet smoke as the sounds of Boy George filtered through the room.
“Julie! There you are!” Julie turned, drink in one hand, joint in the other, as Brittany reappeared at her side. There was a feverish glitter in Brittany’s eyes and she had Blaine in tow.
“Hi, Julie,” he said, kissing her on the cheek as if he’d known her all her life. “You haven’t been out here before, have you?” His eyes held the same strange glitter as his cousin’s. “Let me show you around.”
Blaine’s tour took them only as far as a comfortable little room with a black leather sofa and chair, a sleek black stereo, and a glass coffee table. “My pleasure den,” Blaine said with a laugh. Brittany sat on the couch and looked at Blaine expectantly. Julie’s head was spinning as she watched Blaine clear off the coffee table and produce a vial filled with white powder. For a moment Julie thought it was powdered sugar, like her dad used in his bakery. Then with a shock, it hit her—cocaine!
Julie watched as Brittany and Blaine rolled up a hundred-dollar bill and snorted three lines each. Julie hesitated when they handed the bill to her. Blaine, noticing, tried to reassure her. “First time? Well, don’t worry. This coke is as pure as it gets.” Julie was still wavering when Brittany said in an exasperated tone, “C’mon, Julie, I thought you were cool.”
Julie put down the drink and the joint she was still holding, and took the bill. Bending forward, she quickly sniffed up four lines of coke, and was rewarded with laughter and applause from Brittany and Blaine, as well as a sudden heady feeling of energy and power. She would have Brittany if she wanted her!
She stood up and took Brittany’s hand. “I feel like dancing some more. Come on!”
“Oh, let’s just stay here,” Brittany replied as she pulled Julie down beside her, and the next minute her lips met Julie’s in a kiss that made Julie forget the cocaine, the joint, the gin and tonic. She even forgot about Blaine sitting across from them and about Ashley, who was knocking on the door, calling, “Blaine? Brittany? Are you in there? Have you got some coke?” Still, even as she was kissing Brittany, feeling her warm body under the cashmere cowl-neck swea
ter, the thought flitted through Julie’s mind that there was someone else she would rather have in her arms.
It was 2 A.M. when Julie stumbled back to her motel room. Brittany had invited her to spend the night, but Julie had made some feeble excuse about getting up early to exercise Lady Snow. Alone in the motel room, she cursed herself. Liz had made her feelings perfectly clear—why couldn’t Julie just forget about her? She must have been crazy to pass up the chance to get it on with Brittany Fairchild!
Julie restlessly paced around the room before remembering the pills Blaine had given her when they parted. “’Ludes,” he’d said, “and valium. They’ll help you sleep.” Julie swallowed the pills, but she was so full of cocaine and thoughts of Brittany and Liz that sleep seemed very far away. She started a list of things to do. “Buy gin,” she wrote. “Have sex with Brittany.” She paused. She couldn’t think of what else to add. Oh yes. “Exercise Lady Snow. Win Grand Prix!” Then a wave of relaxation swept over her, and she passed out on the motel bed before she had a chance to undress.
When Julie awoke the next day, she felt fine—oh, maybe a little draggy, but that was it. Drugs weren’t so bad, after all. In fact, Julie wanted more. That warning of Liz’s had just been sour grapes, she decided, since Liz was stuck giving lessons to bratty little kids now. Brittany was the one with all the trophies. Julie noticed her list from the night before and underlined, “Have sex with Brittany,” with fierce decision.
By the time Julie got to the barn, the draggy feeling she’d awoken with was worse, and she was hoping that Blaine or Brittany would come by the stables that day. Finally, as Julie was trying to stop the nosebleed that had been plaguing her all morning, Blaine and Brittany appeared outside Lady Snow’s stall. Julie had worried that Brittany might be angry with her for leaving the night before, but Brittany smiled at Julie and said, “Poor baby, you look like you could use a lift.”
“That’d be super, Brittany.” Julie nodded eagerly.
Blaine pulled out a little black bag and said, “You don’t mind if we use Lady Snow’s stall, do you?” The idea of involving Lady Snow made Julie uneasy somehow, but she needed a little boost if she was going to be able to tack up, let alone work Lady Snow over some fences. “Sure,” she replied.
The trio crowded into the back of Lady Snow’s stall, as the horse whinnied in alarm. Blaine pulled out a vial and a small spoon. Julie watched eagerly as he dipped the spoon into the vial and snorted its contents. He repeated the procedure three more times before handing the vial and spoon to Brittany, who did the same. By the time the vial got to Julie, she was trembling with anticipation.
After the first spoonful of cocaine, Julie felt her head clear, but she knew from last night’s experience that more cocaine would make her feel even better. Julie snorted a second spoonful, and was going for a third, when Brittany grabbed the vial and said, “Slow down, honey. Leave a little for . . .” And then it happened. Julie couldn’t even remember which came first—Brittany’s halfhearted “Oopsy,” or the sound of the vial hitting the stall floor. Before Julie could stop her, Lady Snow had snuffled up the remains of the white powder.
Julie had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but Blaine and Brittany just laughed. Brittany reassured her, “Don’t worry, horses love the stuff. Blizzard can’t get enough!” Julie relaxed a little. After all, Brittany had won the Grand Prix on Blizzard. And besides, she told herself, it’s only this once.
Julie had planned a light workout of an hour or so, but none of the jumps felt right. Was it because her thoughts were so full of Brittany? Or because Lady Snow was kind of skittish? At any rate, they both had plenty of energy, so the one hour turned into three. Even after the workout, Lady Snow still seemed restless, and Julie was hesitant to leave her. Then Brittany was there, with a handful of quaaludes and valium, showing Julie how to grind the pills into Lady Snow’s bran mash. Brittany produced a second handful of pills, which she pushed toward Julie, explaining, “We’re going clubbing tonight.” Julie eagerly swallowed the pills, washing them down with a gulp of gin from the flask Brittany handed her.
You climbed into Brittany’s Porsche and somehow you weren’t surprised that Blaine was there too. The car stopped at your motel and you ran inside to shower and change. You wished you had something better to change into than your Jordache jeans and white Izod shirt. You were startled when Blaine came in before you finished dressing, but you decided not to worry about it because Blaine was your friend now. Brittany was your friend too. They were your best friends. Best friends forever, like you used to say in high school. You wanted a gin and tonic. Then you wanted a joint. Then you wanted cocaine. Maybe you should just skip right to the cocaine? You told yourself that would be easier. You told yourself you would sniff some cocaine, and then have sex with Brittany. You thought about Liz and you told yourself not to think of Liz. You walked into the club, thinking of Liz. The strobe lights hurt your eyes. You noticed that you had another nosebleed and you hoped you wouldn’t get blood on your white Izod. You saw tall fashion models wearing Gucci and Halston and you wondered what they were doing in Florida, but then you realized they were here for the coke. For Blaine’s coke. Suddenly you knew everybody was after Blaine’s coke, and you wondered whether Blaine really was your best friend forever, and if he would still give you coke. You wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t form the words. Then you saw the vial of white powder, and you realized Blaine was your best friend forever. You crowded with him and Brittany into one of the narrow bathroom stalls, the only one where tall beautiful models weren’t having sex and you took a snort of the white powder, and you realized it wasn’t coke.
Julie felt a great, serene calm wash over her, like a high tide slowly creeping up a white sand beach. She felt incredibly relaxed, almost drowsy. The stall, which had seemed crowded and claustrophobic a moment ago, felt cozy now. “Say, Blaine, what is this stuff?” Julie asked. The words seemed to come out of her slowly, like cold syrup out of its container.
“This stuff?” said Blaine lazily. “Why, this is prime horse.”
Julie wasn’t sure she’d heard right, because she was falling into her own deep pool of calm. But it made sense when she thought about it—something that made her feel this good should definitely be called horse. Then Blaine suggested that the three of them go back to his place.
“Is that okay with you, Julie?” Brittany asked dreamily.
“Sure,” Julie replied, “let’s ride there on the horse.”
When they arrived at the condo, Brittany led Julie upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. Then Brittany whispered, “Back in a sec, darling,” and slipped out the door. Julie looked around the room, trying to avoid the images of herself reflected and re-reflected in the mirrors that covered every wall. There was still a faint voice inside Julie that was crying Liz’s name, and if Julie didn’t have to look at herself, it was easier to ignore that voice.
When Brittany returned she was wearing a black silk robe, with a gold monogram on the lapel. The robe clung to her every curve, revealing a body as perfect as everything else about Brittany. In her hand she had several small amber bottles. “What are—” Julie started to ask, but Brittany put a quieting finger to Julie’s lips and pushed her back onto the bed. “I hope she doesn’t notice it’s my first time,” Julie thought to herself as Brittany climbed in beside her. That was the last clear thought she had before the older girl initiated her into a sexual wonderland of pain, pleasure, and poppers. When Brittany had finished with her, Julie could barely remember her own name, much less Liz’s.
The next morning, Julie felt as if her head had been stuffed full of cotton and her body ached in places that made her dread getting in the saddle that day. At the stables, Lady Snow seemed sluggish and Julie worried that the usually energetic Trakehner might be coming down with a cold. Julie had cooled her down awfully fast the day before. Then Julie noticed that Lady Snow was snuffling at her pocket, the one that held the vial Blaine had given her that morning. Julie tr
ied to be stern with her horse. “Not while we’re in training! Yesterday was an accident.” But Lady Snow’s snuffling had a pathetic urgency that Julie couldn’t resist. The girl and her horse soon sniffed up the contents of the vial.
You snuffled around in the hay, hoping to find more of the white powder. You liked the white powder. It made you feel good. You knew you could jump higher than any of the other horses—even higher than Blizzard. You noticed that your mistress was leaving and wondered when she would be back. You liked your mistress, but you didn’t like her new friends. You missed Liz. Liz would always save you an apple. Liz was your best friend forever. But you didn’t want to think about Liz anymore. You wondered when your mistress would come back with more white powder. You looked over at Blizzard’s stall. Blizzard always had plenty of white powder. Blizzard never had to snuffle in his stall. You wondered why you didn’t get as much white powder as Blizzard did when you knew what a bad-tempered horse Blizzard was. You wanted to get out of your stall now. Your stall seemed very small suddenly. You were happy when your mistress returned with your saddle, but you were sad, because she didn’t bring you any more of the white powder. Maybe Blizzard could jump higher than you after all.
Julie rushed through her workout with Lady Snow, brushing aside her nagging worries about her horse’s strange behavior. Over the next few days, Julie discovered that cocaine could help her and Lady Snow get through their workout in half the usual time, and a handful of quaaludes and valium could be substituted for a thorough cool-down. And Julie needed the extra time—Brittany had two trainers and a groom for Blizzard, and wanted to spend all her free time with Julie.
Then one morning, Blaine was leaning over Julie and Brittany as they lay tangled in the sheets, chirping, “Wake up, girls! Time for my special event day breakfast—two parts crystal meth, one part cocaine, and plenty of hot coffee.” The Citrus Classic—the show jumping was today! Julie couldn’t believe that she had forgotten, although she had to admit that the days and nights had begun to blur together. She needed a fifth-place finish to guarantee her spot in the Grand Prix, but at the moment she wasn’t sure she could even make it out of bed. Would the piles of white powder and cups of steaming black liquid on the breakfast tray Blaine was placing in front of her really help?
Big Book Of Lesbian Horse Stories Page 15