Branded (The Club)

Langley, however, posed a different sort of quest in my mind. She was green but not completely innocent. I imagined her previous partners as fumbling college boys who were studying to join their fathers’ businesses at positions they didn’t earn. They were boys who had no concept of what hard work was and no stomach for manual labor with their soft hands and juvenile moves.

I didn’t want someone else coming in swooping her out from under me…literally.

* * * * *

The Club was packed for a Friday night, but considering it was a night where new members were cordially invited and scouted for membership, I wasn’t surprised. Exchanging my denim jeans and hat for a suit was easy enough and made me fit in. A cowboy in a suit was still a cowboy at heart. You might be surprised how much money a well-run cattle farm and horse stud could make these days.

Sitting down in a corner booth, I ordered a double shot of whiskey, my only drink for the night. I waited for my ex-sub, Chelsea, to join. Typically, when an arrangement ended between me and a submissive, I sent my sub on her merry way with a parting gift of her choosing. Some tell their friends they had an exciting job opportunity or a brief internship and everyone walks away happy. Chelsea Vega decided she wanted a permanent fixture on her finger in the weight of several carats and a house in town. She would be lucky with her student loans paid off and not getting her pretty little ass banned from The Club if she became more persistent. I gave her credit for her efforts, but upon getting to the ranch, she’d been nothing more than a whiny brat I had zero patience for during one of the tougher cattle seasons in years. I needed to enter my house in a certain mindset; domination worked for me, which was our agreement, not pitiful fake tears and thousands of dollars spent on Zon Prime purchases to fill her supposed boredom. I didn’t expect a housekeeper, but for Christ’s sake the girl could have picked up after herself at least once during her stay. Thinking about the brief chaos she’d caused made my stomach sour.

Light refracted from the cut crystal glass, and the whiskey lost some of its dark hue reminding me of a certain young woman I was trying to put out of my mind. A fortifying sip let the aged liquor burn a path down to my stomach in a steady flow, easing the previous sourness into a gentle burn. There seemed to be no escaping my newest obsession no matter how hard I tried though I had only met her hours earlier. The ranch was an easy place to refocus my goals, mulling over the dozen or so responsibilities that awaited my return. My mind ran over the list when an old friend sat down next to me.

Lorand Duvall.

A man with a bit of mystery surrounding him. I didn’t ask too many questions, and he didn’t field too many answers. It was probably best that way. I suspected his true work was of a dubious nature, maybe something undercover or military in nature from the way he held himself and appeared hyper-vigilant of his surroundings. Even sitting with me inside the booth, he took up a defensive posture like he was waiting for something to happen. Lorand was a man with many layers, none of which were my business.

“What brings you out tonight?” I asked, taking another drink.

“Meeting someone later.” Lorand motioned to a waiter who brought us fresh drinks but didn’t elaborate, not that I expected him to considering his demeanor.

“Sounds ominous.” I watched his face transform into a smirk.

“It can be. She’s rather difficult.”

“Ah. She being of the female variety.”

“Indeed.” He said, sipping his drink.

We sipped our drinks in silence as was our custom.

“I have some new mares coming to the ranch if you’re interested.” I said, breaking the silence. “My stallion Blackjack will be breeding at least two of them.” I knew Lorand had enjoyed coming to the ranch. It seemed as if my ranch was a calming place for him during his few visits over the years. He would relax, and the edge he carried on his shoulders would soften slightly. No matter my offers for him to stay up at the main house, he’d always seemed content to stay in the bunk house. He would work on the ranch for a week or two at a time riding horses and doing hard labor on his own. There seemed to be something cleansing about it, and it suited me fine to have the help especially with someone knowledgeable and eager to work.

“I would like that. Things have been…complicated.”

We nodded and he said nothing more. I wasn’t about to intrude or nag him into divulging whatever it was that seemed to be occupying his mind. We were merely acquaintances with common interests.

“Anytime. Just call.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Lorand tapped the table and got up to leave. Our exchange was nothing odd or new. Lorand Duvall remained reticent and as long as he wasn’t bringing trouble to my doorstep, I wasn’t overly concerned with the details. He would either tell me or not, and I was patient to wait him out. What I did notice was that he didn’t take up with any of the women who blatantly offered themselves to him. I was no connoisseur on the male gender, had no bias; men were not my sexual preference. I saw many variations of attraction here at The Club to satisfy most any need.

For the first time, I wondered about my mysterious friend Lorand and if he had a similar affliction to mine—simply that our fillies weren’t yet members here. I watched him walk away, sliding in between patrons of The Club virtually disappearing within the crowd. It took a certain level of stealth and mastery I could appreciate, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.

“Howdy, Cowboy.” The shrill voice interrupted my thoughts.

However, none of that mattered since Chelsea finally decided to grace me with her presence.

3

Langley

I survived my first month in Karim unscathed much to my mother’s surprise and to my own personal joy. I managed to carve out a routine for myself including pizza night once a week and yoga three times. I preferred the grocery store on the far side of town—better produce, and the gas station around the corner was two cents cheaper on Tuesdays. While some might feel those were boring and mundane things, I drew comfort from knowing I could handle being here on my own. Next week I planned on taking my co-workers up on their offer to hang out after work for a drink or two. My mother’s phone calls were every other day now instead of daily. Slowly, I was severing the cord she pulled tightly, and each call made it easier to breathe a sigh of relief knowing I’d made the right decision.

Today was the first Friday of the month and also a payday which meant I had been busy non-stop cashing and depositing paychecks for the citizens of Karim. My feet ached inside my low-heeled shoes as I balled my toes inside the cramped leather soles, and my hair loosened from the French braid it had started out as this morning. The rubber band pulled out easy, and the locks unwound from the braid effortlessly, falling freely down my back in blonde kinks. It felt good to not have it pulled back tight. Stretching my back did little to ease the ache in my shoulders. It would seem I was sore from my head to my toes after all.

“It feels like today will never end.” A groaning voice shared my misery. Alexis stood behind me holding a cup of coffee in her hands. She still managed to look as crisp as she did this morning in her fitted navy suit and nude platform pumps. I wondered how she managed to stay so put together. I guessed it was something that came with age judging her to be in her early thirties, attractive, and successful if her shiny white BMW in the parking lot was any indication.

“I agree, but a little longer and then we can enjoy the weekend.” We were close to the end of the banking transaction day and anything else that came in, while technically processed wouldn’t post until Monday. I slipped a lock of hair behind my ear, looking forward to a long bubble bath. A glass of wine sounded nice. I had a bottle of a local white wine I’d picked up at the farmer’s market sitting in my fridge all week. It had begun looking lonely next to my no-pulp orange juice and mixed berry yogurt. Even the mixed berry yogurt was a step outside my norm from plain vanilla and strawberry. With a good book on my kindle also waiting for me, I decide

d right then that Karim had only brought out good things for me since I’d arrived, including how I spent my free time without judgment from my mother or anyone else.