There was something about summer nights in the south of the United States that felt otherworldly. The warm humidity, the peppered, star-filled sky, and the deep hum of luminescent fireflies soothed my soul and put a smile on my face so wide that it would take an age to come off if the night was eternal. Tonight was no different.
I moved to the area last year for work, originally being a Floridian who grew tired of all of the tourists. Florida isn't exactly what someone thinks of when they mention the south, ignoring geography of course. This was especially true for where I used to live, Orlando, but it's more so than any of the northern or western states, and whenever I had the opportunity to venture out of the Disney bubble I was suffocating in, It was nearly always in adjacent counties, or, when my family or myself and my friends were feeling particularly adventurous, even states.
This is what brought me here, to this quaint Virginian town on the outskirts of the Appalachian mountains, a town full of the best things you could ever want in America; moonshine, southern food, gyms, shooting ranges, and, of course, stunning southern women.
Now, the Floridian accent isn't anything to write home about, but southern American accents? Especially spoken by their women? They'll melt you from the inside out, leaving you as gooey as their honey voices. Did I move here just for that? No, definitely not, but was I going to move to somewhere like California, with
those
accents? Unlikely. No offence if you're Californian, but, be honest with yourself here. You know what I mean.
The south was and always would be my home, and, as I glanced over towards a small farmstead down the road, past a long row of parked cars and planted evergreen trees, the memory of my conversation with Sally a week a go extended the smile put on my face by the fireflies and their fluorescent frolicking.
She had been out on her horse, doing the rounds in the local area and clearly enjoying herself. Although she was largely hidden by the helmet and fluorescent jacket she was wearing, her beauty was immediately obvious. I just couldn't take my eyes away from her.
Chocolate brunette curls framed her cute face, her eyes bright and alive, the first thing that drew me to her - aside from the fantastical steed she was riding of course. She was an older woman, I'd guess late thirties, early forties, but she had aged like the finest of wines. (Fuck it, a Californian wine. You can have that one at least. Credit where it's due and all).
We were both at a small crossroads, flanked by thick forest groves and corn fields, waiting to cross as endless cars crossed ahead of us. She looked down from me atop her steed as I stood in awe at the horse before me. I felt like a peasant staring up at a modern knight in shining armour. She broke into a smile that'd warm even the coldest of hearts, her eyes twinkling as they met mine. I saw my chance, and I took it.
"That might be the most gorgeous horse I've ever seen in my life," I said, looking up at her.
"Oh really, Marcus here?" She said as she looked from the horse to me.
I was right about the eyes then, those are something else.
"Definitely, do you mind? Will he kick me into the next state?" I said, motioning to stroke Marcus' head.
"By all means sweetheart."
I reached out, gently petting his head and cheek, that coarse skin-hair mixture feeling surprisingly nice against my hand.
"He really is gorgeous, but I can't lie, so is the woman riding him."
She giggled at that, obviously not expecting such an honest comment. Even her laugh was sexy, but I did my best to hide my attraction. Whether I was successful or not, I had absolutely no idea.
"Aren't you bold." She said, continuing to smile at me. I looked ahead, checking if the roads were clear to cross yet, thankfully they weren't, but I realised quickly what I was doing, and called it out.
"I know I'm essentially holding you hostage here, but I had to say something." I said as confidently as I could, looking back at her and catching her, effectively, checking me out, as if I were a prize horse to be bid on - or not. Luckily, she seemed to be in the buying mood.
"Oh no honey, I appreciate it. I can't say I've had someone approach me like this before. Usually guys just wolf whistle at me, as if that'd get me jumping into bed with them then and there."
"Then I'm glad I did it in the right way." I replied, laughing.
"That you did, handsome, but it's time for us to cross."
With that, she spurred the horse on ahead of me. I quickly followed suit, walking beside her as we went. I had been doing my best to read her body language up until this point, but once that handsome comment dropped between my feet, I knew the attraction, at least, was mutual.
It was mine to fuck up now, and the only thing - no, woman - I wanted to fuck up into was-
"Do you usually start chatting up girls riding horses in broad daylight?" She said.
I didn't say I was the best narrator, was I? You'lll have to excuse the jumbled retelling. It will be over soon enough. Even now my mind quickly wanders to debauchery, and how little I knew back then of what was to come.
"Only when they're as pretty as you." I remember saying, "I tried it at night time before, didn't end well, surprisingly."
"I'm not surprised, actually," She laughed. "So, what's my admirer's name then?"
"James, and yours?"
"Sally." She replied softly, switching between looking ahead and down at me, as if she didn't want to take her eyes off me if she could help it.
We reached the other side of the road where I would be turning off at, and came to a stop, as did she.
"Well, Sally," I began, "I don't want to keep you too long, I can see you're busy with Marcus here, but, another time -"
"I'd love to." She said, beating me to the punch. "Awfully up front, but I like that in a man, especially one as sweet as you. Sure, why not, we'll quickly find out if we hate each other or not, won't we?"
I laughed at this, admiring her brazenness, respecting it even.
"That sounds great to me, maybe bring him along? I'm sure a bar or restaurant wouldn't mind. And I know there's a joke in there somewhere."
"Oh I would if I could." She said, rolling her eyes.
"So, what's your number? I'll text you later and we can arrange something then?" I said, trying not to sound too shocked at how well this was going.
Fake it till you make it boys. Fake it till you make it.
As if I had done the most socially insane move ever, she stared down at me incredulously, but gave me a once over again, before looking straight ahead, a mixture of debate, and, strangely, determination in her eyes; was she holding back on me? Or was I reading her wrong?
"Fine, you have a set of balls on you,
boy
