Finn's arms were still weak when he threw the saddle onto his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends saddling their horses in silence. The introduction had gone as he imagined it would, with the exception of the vibration that had kept his mind clouded throughout the majority of the conversation.
He didn't normally work on Saturdays, but one of the bulls had escaped into a neighboring field. Since his mistress had informed him during breakfast that he would be on his own for the day and not to expect her home before midnight, he had agreed to help push the bull back to the right side of the fence.
"What is it you like so much about this girl?" Trevor asked, finally breaking the silence.
"What do you mean?" he replied, buying time so he could think up reasons that didn't include the way she chained him to whatever she fancied, whipped him, spanked him, and flogged him. Or the way she kissed him, stroked him, violated him and teased him until he was begging and pleading for permission to come.
"I get that she's hot, but she ain't like the girls you normally fuck around with," Trevor said, adjusting his belt as he sauntered towards him.
"Maybe that's what I like about her." It was a cliché response, but he still hadn't been able to pull his mind far enough from her darkness to come up with a vanilla answer.
"He didn't mean that in a good way," Ryan butted in, twisting sideways in his saddle to look down at him. "She don't fit in with us."
He ran his hand over his neck then continued looping the latigo through his cinch.
"You act like a dog around her," Trevor prodded, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And girls with degrees always think they're somethin' special," Conner pointed out.
"You don't like her because she's smart and successful?" He knew his friends preferred easier targets, but he had assumed it was only because they never planned on sticking around after they got what they wanted.
"What made you decide this girl's pussy's so much better than other girls' pussies?" Trevor continued. "It ain't a fuckin' treasure. It's just another pussy."
He pulled his cinch tight then went to grab his bridle out of his truck, ignoring the crass comment.
"If you're going to insist on continuing this bullshit, she needs to learn how to get along with us," Trevor said, following behind him.
"You need to learn how to get along with her," he said, turning around to face him. "You were the one who disrespected her."
Trevor stared at him for a minute, blocking his path back to his horse. Then he smiled and stepped to the side, glancing momentarily at the other men. "How about I treat you and her to dinner tonight? As an apology," he offered. "I'll be on my best behavior. I promise."
"She has some work to do and won't be home until late," he declined.
"Then why don't we all go to dinner? Finally, a boy's night!" Johnny chimed in.
"I dunno..." he hesitated, rubbing his hand over his neck.
"You gotta eat!" Johnny pushed.
"We'll pick you up at seven. Be ready," Trevor said.
****************************
He watched Trevor's beat up brown Chevy sluggishly make its way up the gravel driveway. Ryan was in the front seat so he climbed into the back. The screen on his phone read seven thirty-eight. "You're late."
"Since when did you become obsessed with the time?" Trevor replied, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
"I'm not," he said, running his hand over his neck before glancing at his phone again.
Johnny and Conner were already seated in the booth when they arrived at the restaurant. He slid in next to them and ordered a beer, then waited for the conversation to go south. The other men sat laughing and sipping on their drinks, nobody mentioning his mistress. When the bill came Trevor graciously picked it up and paid for everyone, then they headed out.
"Where are we going?" he questioned when Trevor turned the wrong direction out of the parking lot.
"Andrea invited us to her place for dessert. Be rude to decline," Trevor replied.
"Drop me off at home first. I'm full and not in the mood for dessert," he said, touching his neck again while he checked the time on his phone. It was almost nine-thirty.
"You said your girl's workin' late so what the fuck's wrong with goin' and grabbin' dessert at a friend's? We won't be longer than an hour then you can go home," Trevor argued.
He sat back against the seat, sighing in defeat. "Where does she live?"
"Just outside of town. She's renting the second house on the old Murray dairy," Ryan replied. "And Conner said she has two very fuckable roommates. But you wouldn't be interested in that piece of information given that you're currently...attached."
"Nope," he replied, looking at his phone again and wondering if she would text him to check in on him even though she never did. He had memorized her number but still hadn't saved it in his phone because he was undecided what name to put it under. The more time he spent with her the more terrified of her name he became. He didn't like to even think it, and doubted he could force his lips to ever speak it. It was only a safeword for when they played, but he couldn't get past the fear that somehow if it escaped his lips at any point in time everything including her would evaporate and disappear like it had never happened. And even though it was a ridiculous thought, everything was ridiculous now.
When they pulled up to the old brick milking barn that had been converted into a small house he looked at his phone again before getting out of the truck. Even if it did take a little more than an hour he would still be home before her.
"Hi, boys," Andrea greeted them when they walked in the house. "Come on," she said, leading them into the kitchen where Johnny and Conner were already seated with two girls.
He glanced around the small area, noticing the décor included strings of beads as doors and random furniture. Though he had assumed Andrea was younger than them, he hadn't cared how much younger as long as her age wouldn't get any of them thrown in jail.
"Try some of my special punch," Andrea said, shoving a glass in his hand. He sat down at the table and took a small sip of the red drink. It tasted sweet and from what he could tell didn't contain much alcohol. Like most girly drinks it didn't even have an after kick.
"You might want to slow down," Andrea said, grabbing Conner's arm and pulling the drink away from his mouth.
Conner laughed and jerked his arm out of her grasp, then put the cup back to his lips and gulped down the remainder. "I think I can handle it. What is it, anyway? Hawaiian Punch?" he asked, grabbing the pitcher and pouring himself a refill.
He took a few more sips of his own drink before pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down on the table. It was nine-fifty.
At ten-thirty Andrea replaced the empty glass in front of him with a full one. He picked it up then subconsciously touched his neck, only realizing what he was doing when his fingers hit bare skin instead of leather. He had never felt depressed before, but it was the only word he could think of to describe the heaviness weighing down his body.
