'Up there,' and Gus pointed to what appeared to be a row of large mirrors on the first floor, 'are the viewing rooms.' He smiled at the young woman's frown. 'They're one-way glass,' he said. 'Not mirrors.'
They were standing in a large arena; one of two on the farm of which her father was half-owner. It was called Green Groves and some of the best thoroughbreds in the world came from it. Casey and her dad had come down from the city for the day, and he, knowing that he would probably be in meetings most of the day, had entrusted the nineteen-year old girl to Gus, the farm-foreman. He'd known Gus for almost twenty years, and knew the man would take good care of the girl; show her everything worth seeing on the property.
They'd taken a couple of horses and had been out in the fields for most of the morning before returning to the house, which also served as offices and Gus' quarters; had just had a light brunch in fact, and after making sure her father was going to be busy for at least another three or four hours, Gus had brought the girl to the arena.
'Why one-way glass?' Casey asked.
Gus smiled. 'Horses are a lot like people,' he said. 'The mares get bred here,' he waved a hand at the arena in general, 'and we don't want them to feel uncomfortable, do we?' He smiled again and Casey thought he probably was a very handsome twenty or twenty-five years old once. He was around fifty now, but still handsome with short steel-grey hair and very little fat. Around six foot two, which was a couple of inches taller than her own already tall six feet exactly.
'But come,' he said, taking her arm and heading for the steps. 'I've got a surprise for you.'
The room wasn't big. Maybe three meters by three meters. Painted eggshell white with a beige carpet and a door which Gus closed behind them. He took Casey's arm and led her to the large window. There were chairs for them who preferred a soft seat, he said, but most people preferred the window seat; pointing at the wide windowsill and thinking how soft the girl's skin was.
Down below, two farm-hands were leading a beautiful dapple-grey mare into the arena. Her coat was brushed to a shiny sheen and she was shivering and prancing and shaking her head, knowing what was about to happen. After all, it would not be the first time. They stopped in the centre of the ring and just stood there waiting.