. 04

For those who don't like a lot of dialogue, my apologies. I feel like I've been writing a lot of it lately, and that's likely to continue for at least the short term. I've been feeling the need to firm up some "how, whats and whys" for my own peace of mind, and besides, I just like writing dialogue. It's an interesting challenge. However, I'll continue to do my best to include as many naughty bits as possible.

Standard disclaimers.

This is a story about sexual exploration and, open relationships. Open relationships can and do happily exist; but they are not for everyone. If you do not believe it is at all possible for open relationships to exist without damage to any and all involved parties, please do yourself a favor and don't waste your time reading this.

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Also, this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.

*

As predicted, Gwen was walking a bit gingerly the next morning, and while she did her best to hide it, at least one of the employees could not help but notice. Andrew remembered seeing her move like that before, and now as then attributed it to some sort of accident involving her horses. Her strength and balance had to be affected by her age, although it hadn't touched her looks—she was every bit as attractive in a MILF sort of way as she ever had been. Of course, that evening he had seen her and Tim by the pool had greatly elevated her sexiness factor. Against his better judgment the young plumber had been thinking of ways to get another look; he had ideas but lacked the courage to act on them.

"I hope everything's okay," he offered as Gwen handed him his work orders for the day.

"I'm sorry, Andrew?"

"You look like you're a little sore, or something."

Gwen smiled, feeling a bit of warmth on her cheeks. "Yes Andrew, I'm fine. Just a little too much...exercise...this weekend."

"Well, rice, Mrs. Nelson."

"Rice, Andrew?"

"Yeah, rice—you know...it stands for rest, ice, compression, elevation? My football coaches used to tell us that all the time when we hurt somethin'."

Gwen smiled. Rest would be nice, but that wasn't going to happen this week. Ice? That might be difficult to apply to the sore part, and compression, well she had no idea how to even do that there. She stifled a giggle at the thought of elevation, imagining herself on all fours, elbows down and rear end up. That might make the soreness worse, should Tim, or even the young man offering the advice, catch her that way... "Thank you Andrew, I'll remember that."

"Oh, you're welcome," he quickly, replied, pleased with himself that he had apparently been of help. "Guess I better get goin'", he added with an embarrassed smile, holding up the papers he had been given as if to explain why. She nodded and moved on.

The soreness was just a distant but still exciting memory by Friday and Gwen found herself wondering if she had discovered the meaning of compression by sitting on her rear end doing paperwork all week. It was not just paperwork; items from mental to do lists had been moved into mental folders, separated by what was done and what still had to be done. The partnership paperwork had been moved into the done folder; Eric's lawyer and Adam knew each other well and had acted quickly. Eric's investment was sitting in the business' account, earmarked for the building and equipment expansion; that was moved to the done folder as well. The preparations for the dinner to be held in Martelli's private room Saturday night was still in the in-process folder; that would only be moved after the dinner had been successfully executed. The employees had been told it was an event to show Tim and Gwen's appreciation for their efforts; only Eric and Cliff knew it was to announce the new partnership and expansion plans as well.

The sound of the shop door opening below was quickly followed by a male voice. "Hello?"

Gwen hurried down the stairs. "May I help you?"

"I have a delivery for a Gwen Nelson?"

Tommy, their normal delivery man, had stopped by at his usual time a half hour earlier, and this certainly wasn't Tommy. "I'm Gwen Nelson," she said warily, "but we're not expecting a delivery." The 'we' was used as a sort of minimal protection; better to let this stranger think she was not alone here.

"Something from Holtz and Kulow, ma'am," he offered, looking at his computer tablet. Gwen knew the name well; it was one of the best saddle makers in the country.

"I didn't order any—"

"Shipped on behalf of Jubalee Farms," he said, checking his computerized paperwork and cutting her off. "No name, though." Sylvia Danning's stables, Gwen knew, putting the pieces together. "Should I, uhh, bring it in here?"

"Oh—no, you can leave it outside, I'll take it up to the barn."

"I can take it up there, if you like," the young man offered. A tiny little thing like this shouldn't have to carry heavy things, he thought, clearly underestimating the woman before him.

To her mild surprise, Gwen smiled and accepted the help. "If you would, that would be very nice." He effortlessly toted it up the small rise, putting it down just inside the barn doors and waiting for Gwen to open it.

She looked up at the young man. "Thank you...do I owe you anything?"

"Oh no," he assured her, "everything has been taken care of. Would you like to open it so you can make sure it wasn't damaged in shipment? I can throw it back in the van if it is and save you some time."

She grabbed a nearby baling twine knife and sliced open the cardboard. It was indeed a saddle, the same kind as the one she had ridden that Sunday in Mrs. Danning's field, black mesh stretched over rolled leather, something between English and Western in size and style.

"Huh. Is that a saddle? Never seen one like that before," the young man announced. "Does it look okay?"

"I think so," Gwen replied as a blush reddened her cheeks despite being certain he had no idea of its intended use. A small envelope was taped to the saddle horn, a card inside that. She opened it and read the handwritten note.

Dear Gwen,

Thank you so much for modeling! Danilo has not allowed me to see the results yet but assures me he was very, very pleased with them and is sure I will be, too!

I understand that you did not seem displeased with the saddle I provided for the Sunday shoot. Please accept this new one as my way of saying thank you for posing! Please understand this design is still a work in progress, perhaps you might have some suggestions for improvement when you come to see what Danilo's finished product looks like?

All my best

--Sylvia

PS—Do be careful about falling off! I nearly did the first time I used mine to its full benefit.

Gwen pondered what to do with it. She was keeping it, of course, even though the Lady urged sending it back while the driver was still here. Hiding a saddle from those with business in the barn would be difficult...Tim would understand, of course, and Cricket would know exactly what it was. Natalie would almost certainly find the saddle both interesting and amusing. But how could something like this be explained to Alison and KD?

She still had no answer as to what to tell her daughters as she watched the driver go back down to his van and pull away, finally moving the saddle to a back corner of the tack room and covering it with some old blankets. Gwen thought about the saddle for some time after she returned to the shop, shuffling mental and physical folders at her desk while her mind continued to wander back to the gift in the barn. There was still a couple of hours before any of the trucks would be back...but still a lot to do before the dinner Saturday night and wasn't that the reason you told Natalie you couldn't ride today, the Lady whined. There's still time to do all of that, the Slut countered, and Gwen swiftly juggled her calendar as she walked back up to the barn, not bothering to detour to the house for a change of clothes. "Hey Dart, want to go for a quick ride?"

The new saddle was pulled from where it had been stored just a little while ago and put on the horse, the fit good. To a bystander the scene might have appeared a bit odd, Gwen still dressed in her work attire walking the Morgan up the field into the woods above. It would make more sense once they moved past the first screen of trees and she paused to disrobe and hang her clothes on a nearby branch. Even her shoes were carefully placed at the base of the tree despite the Lady's warning that having to walk the horse back for any reason would be painful indeed. Gwen didn't care; the Slut wanted to be naked, even more naked than that Sunday in Mrs. Danning's field.

She swung a leg over Dart's back, remembering how many times she had done that for Danilo, and settled herself on the saddle. The mesh felt like it did that day, and the strip of rolled leather underneath that seemed to have been formed to perfectly nestle into her cleft was there, too. Gwen almost imperceptibly nudged the horse in the flank with a heel and started him in a walk while eschewing proper riding technique and allowing herself to gently sag against the mesh. Each bounce of the animal's back brought her in contact with the leather strip, lightly at first then with more force as she allowed her muscles to relax. Horse and rider were halfway to the picnic clearing when he was brought a halt, Gwen wanting a steady platform while she further tested the saddle's unique fit.

Her rear end sank heavily, a posture that would have brought scorn from Else Ritter. She thrust her hips thrust back and forth against the hardness beneath, tentative at first and then with more force. The mesh felt different against her bare skin now that there wasn't the thick thatch she sported the first time, not unpleasant, a little like Tim's stubble but more subtle. Gwen willed herself to put Dart back into a walk. She tried a gallop next, developing a rhythm that teased with each bounce of the horse's back when she allowed herself to make contact with the saddle beneath. They were approaching the turn to the picnic clearing; Gwen slowed the animal to a walk and sagged back into the saddle, biting her lip as she thrust her pelvis forward to maximize contact.

She brought Dart to a stop in the shade just before the brightly lit clearing, thinking it might be nice to dismount, lay on the table and give her naked body to the sun gods in offering, letting whatever might happen, happen. But the breeze against her skin felt good, too, and the rolled leather pressing against her clit enticed her to stay...Gwen let the horse's leads go slack over his neck—no need to accidentally pull on them and confuse the animal. Her now-free hands gripped the saddle horn with both hands as her hips resumed their rocking motion. She hunched over the horse's neck as the feeling emanating from her midsection grew more intense, thankful his training kept him from wandering into the trees while his rider was preoccupied. "Uh-uh-uh," she breathed with each thrust of her hips against the saddle, her clitoris firmly pressed against leather and rubbing against mesh. And then her climax was upon her, as powerful as ever yet she fought to mute it, fearful even in her ecstasy that she might spook her mount. Her whole body slumped as the waves quieted, and she understood Sylvia Danning's warning; there was no strength in her legs, and maintaining balance was difficult. Gwen's senses returned to her, and the feel of the breeze against her skin was intensely satisfying, like the caress of a lover. She giggled after finally straightening again in the saddle. "Good boy," she said, affectionately bending to pat Dart's shoulder. How many horses could you count on to not interrupt their rider's orgasm? How would you even teach such a thing?

***

Gwen's carefully laid plans for the dinner ensured the event went as expected, employees and their dates enjoying the food and drink, those in the know doing their best to keep up their ends of the conversations while worrying about the reaction from the announcement. Two had come alone; Eric definitely had no time for a girlfriend now that he had a business to grow and Andrew was currently between hopefuls. Gwen took the seat next to Andrew; she couldn't help but notice his nervousness and while she assumed it was because his boss was sitting next to him, she chose to pretend it was because he had a desirable woman close at hand. She noted he seemed to be making an effort to talk with her in particular.

"You seem to be, uhh, not sore, any more," he offered nervously. "You're walking better."

"Oh no, that went away pretty quickly," Gwen replied with a smile. "Honestly, I didn't even think it showed. You're very observant."

"Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess...so you didn't need the rice?"

She continued to smile. "Well, I did the compression part and I'm sure that helped. Thank you for suggesting it."

His face brightened. "You're welcome—any time!"

Dessert was being served when Tim rose and cleared his throat. "Hey, quiet down and listen up, you guys," he asked in the voice that always seemed calm but carried authority. The employees quickly quieted in response. "So first of all, Gwen and I wanna thank you all for all the hard work you've been putting in. We've been busier than ever, and you guys have been doing a hell of a job getting' it done." Smiles and nod and murmurs came back from the table.

"In fact, we've been doing so well," he continued, "that we're here to tell you that Nelson Plumbing is expanding. We're gonna add more plumbers and trucks and add on to the shop. And we're also gonna get into more HVAC work—we think we can do some good business there. But Gwen and me need some help running the place so," he paused, seeing that he had everyone's attention, "we're bringing on someone to help make sure everything goes okay." Tim paused, gauging the looks on the younger employees faces' hearing their murmurs and wondered if they knew exactly what that meant. "We're adding a partner to the business—Eric." He smiled and motioned to the blushing young man as mouths dropped open and heads swiveled to where Tim's hand was pointing at. It took a moment for the words to sink in, but "cool," and "congratulations, man," and "holy shit" all began to rise from the table in a rising crescendo. Tim let it go for a moment before calling for their attention again. "And while I'm up here," he announced, "I'd also like to announce that the first thing me, Gwen and Eric decided as partners was to offer Cliff a position as the Director of Training and Continuing Education, and we're all really glad he said yes. . He'll still be out on jobs, but he's also going to be responsible for making sure we all have the most up-to-date information on what the hell we're doing. We're gonna need more plumbers, and a few of you have been apprentices way too long," he said, eying that side of the table, "hopefully you guys can put two and two together? If not, Cliff's going to help you do the math." There were some good-natured groans quickly followed by heartfelt congratulations.

The rest of the evening was spent answering questions as best they could, understanding the uncertainty that came with change and trying to build enthusiasm for the new arrangement. Eric, even though he was the same age as the younger employees but didn't hang out with them, was universally respected by the younger employees; each of the apprentices and Andrew privately decided he would make an acceptable boss, although they all also decided that any disputes or decisions of importance would be brought to Tim. And then they'd be taken to Mrs. Nelson, Mike laughed to himself.

The dinner broke up some time later, the attendees breaking into smaller groups. The apprentices and Andrew were heading off to somewhere with beer to further discuss the ramifications of all this while the Nelsons, Cliff, Cheryl and Eric and started for home.

"Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road," Gwen said with a giggle as Tim's hand landed on her knee, although she made no effort to remove it.

"My eyes are on the road and I had to keep my hands off you all night," he replied with a chuckle. "What with you lookin' all damn hot like that."

"This is hot?" she asked nervously, gesturing to her clothing and quickly reviewing her choices. "I usually wear something like this for business meetings." In truth, what she was wearing would still be considered conservative by just about anybody; a light grey long-sleeve blouse buttoned up well past where any cleavage might be visible, and a dark grey calf-length skirt. Low heels and a tasteful amount of jewelry completed the look.

"Oh, you definitely got the look of a managing partner with a business empire to grow," Tim replied with a chuckle. "But I know what's underneath." The hand still on her knee began to slowly pull the hem of the skirt up.

Gwen placed her hand over his, her determination to stop him wavering. The wine and champagne from dinner had calmed her nerves before the announcement and produced a mellow glow after. "My underwear?" She didn't think he had seen her select it...

He continued to bunch up the fabric in his loose fist. "I was thinking what's under the underwear, but I should probably check that out, too. I've got one hand on the wheel, how about you let the other hand play a little." She responded by running her fingers up to his hard bicep.

"Gonna take forever to get to the playground with all this in the way," he grumbled, gently tugging the gathered fabric for emphasis. "Especially with you sitting on a bunch of it. How about you just take it off?"

"Here?" she asked, looking out at the houses and shops going by, the cab of the truck lighting and darkening in rhythm with each streetlight they passed under.

"Dare ya. I promise not to look. My eyes are on the road, remember?"

Gwen eyed her grinning husband intently studying the road before them, then impulsively accepted his challenge with her own smile and unbuttoned the waist before lifting herself off the seat and pushing it down. Tim's hand retreated when she reached it, then was back even as she was kicking the skirt off over her shoes.

A quick check confirmed his eyes were indeed still on the road while his hand turned circles over her inner thigh. Gwen spread herself a bit more to invite and accommodate his touch, and fingers soon grazed over her underwear.

"Lace?" Tim asked, risking a glance.

"Eyes on the road, mister," Gwen reminded him with a laugh, "and yes, lace."

"Does the bra match?"

"It does."

He continued to explore, a finger running along one edge "Doesn't feel like there's a lot there. Thong?"

"Yes. They were supposed to be a surprise for you when we got home."

"They're a surprise right now. Probably good I didn't know you had them on during dinner, I wouldn't have been able to concentrate, you being all business-like on top and all sexy underneath."

"Mm-hmm..."

Tim's fingers found their way under the thin band of lace above her mons. "No stubble yet," he casually observed.

"I tried my hand at cleaning it up a little in the shower today. Natalie's right—it's a lot like shaving your legs."

"Well, just so you know, I'm happy to help anytime...his middle finger found the way blocked by bunched lace as it slid down her furrow. "They're kinda snug on you right now...how about you take those off, too?"

"You're going to have me naked by the time I get home," Gwen laughed, but again lifted her hips and reached for the waistband anyway.

Tim's hand left her and turned palm up. "Give 'em here." She obliged and his fingers worked to find the string of the waistband while he kept his eyes forward, then hung them from his rearview mirror.