Juan stopped in his tracks, and his arms went limp. His tight lips formed a shaky line, twitching like the beat of a dying heart.

“Aren’t you guys cold?” he asked.

His voice was a slow drawl, words slipping out of his mouth like a drawn-out yawn. His hair was a mess, and the rest of him too. His shirt was tucked out of his pants on one side, sliding off his shoulder on the other. His bronze skin was dull and covered with a sheen of sticky sweat, as well as a stain of someone’s makeup smeared in the crook of his neck.

I figured he might be drunk, and maybe there was something else coursing through his blood. Either that, or the drugs floating in my own veins were still distorting the world around me.

Hernan walked up to the patio, a small crowd of tired people trailing behind him.

“Put some fucking clothes on, you cunts,” he spat.

“Looks like someone needs a good night’s sleep,” mumbled Pablo, gently patting me on the thigh as he picked up my dress, strewn over the armrest of our sofa. “Come on Gordita, we’ll finish in the bedroom.”

I had a bunch of questions bumping around my empty head. Finish what? Sex? Weren’t we already done? Did we even have sex? Am I still naked? Am I still high? When did the others get here? Are they really here? What time is it? Where am I? Should I put on my dress?

“What are you waiting for?” asked someone, or maybe I was talking to myself again.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered confusedly.

I couldn’t find the hole in my dress I was supposed to stick my head through, so I just wrapped as much fabric as I could around my body.

I tried to shake off the sight of Juan– his balled-up fists, the tightness in his jaw, his pained and guilting gaze. The bitterness in his dark eyes, consuming him like a black hole, growing on his face until it swallowed it whole.

But it chased me down the corridor, as I stumbled back to the room. I could see it on the surface of the sheets, as I knelt face down on the bed, and it lingered beneath my eyelids even as I tried to fall asleep.

Juan still looked the same the next morning. He had that thousand-yard stare and a discreet, disgusted snarl twisting his face. He slowly chewed on his cereal, wincing as if every bite was tainted with the bad taste that the sight of me straddling Pablo’s legs had left in his mouth.

If there was any silver lining at all, it was that Pablo still seemed happy. He was hardly tired out from the drug trip and sleepless night, and kept his arm wrapped around my shoulder, playing with loose strands of my hair, without ever pulling too hard.

“Come on, finish your breakfast,” he told me. “I want to go horseriding.”

“You can go alone,” I replied, as an exhausted yawn punctuated my sentence. “My ass hurts too much.”

“Oh, your ass hurts?” Juan blurted out.

It was hard not to glare at him while he choked back a loud scoff.

Pablo grinned. “My bad.”

“Could you wait until I’ve finished eating before you all talk about how everyone’s fucked Emilia in the ass?” complained Manée, slamming her cutlery down on her plate.

“Everyone?” Pablo frowned.

“I haven’t,” snickered Hernan. “Not yet.”

Pablo glared at him with a look like someone had just poured salt into his coffee.

“And you?” chirped Manée, pointing her chin at Juan. “You’re not saying anything.”

“Are you off your meds again?” he sighed.

“What did you do last night at the club, huh?” she spat.

Juan let out a disdainful laugh, blowing a sharp stream of air through his nose. “I wasn’t shoving my weiner up Em’s semicolon, that’s for sure.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Pablo, craning his neck to stare at Manée.

“I don’t know, ask your girlfriend,” she retorted, a smug look on her face.

I laughed and hoped I sounded more confused than nervous. “Pablo was with me the whole night. Maybe you mistook me for some other woman.”

“Yeah, and the semi-colon isn’t a body part, you moron,” muttered Pablo.

“I don’t know, I have an MBA in Business Administration,” Juan groaned. “Not a fucking medical degree.”

“Juan,” I whispered. “The ‘BA’ in MBA stands for Business Administration.”

“I’ve told him that a thousand times,” Oscar chimed in. “Goes in one ear, comes out the other. Don’t bother.”

After Juan pulled a childish grimace, the conversation quieted down, but the tension remained in the atmosphere, creaking and screeching like the spoons at the bottom of our empty bowls.

“I’ll go help the guys tack the horses,” Juan murmured, excusing himself from the table.

Both his wife and his father left soon after, walking together in the opposite direction.

“As soon as we leave this dumb honeymoon, I don’t want to see a single fucking Sandoval,” seethed Pablo.

“We need them, Pablo,” mumbled his brother. “Can’t keep the business up without them.”

“We’ll just have to find a way,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, Juan has always been like a son to me, but–”

His words floated in the air for a second, and I held my breath until they fell.

Pablo anxiously cleared his throat. “I just can’t trust Hernan around the girls. Not after what happened with Gustavo.”

I smiled and nodded, trying to hide the panic within me. Sure, my life would be nicer without Hernan and Manée around, but Juan was my ticket out of this damn place. If Pablo was serious about this, then we’d have to act fast.

“Maybe we should kidnap Juan,” he sighed.

His suggestion wrung an awkward chuckle out of me and Oscar’s tense faces, and a slight smiling wrinkle from Andrea’s botoxed eyes.

Before he could slip up again, Juan arrived with three horses, all tall, muscular beasts with shiny coats and well-groomed manes.

“Saddle up another one for her,” ordered Pablo, pointing at me before he hoisted himself up on a horse’s back. “She’s coming with us.”

“What about her sore butt?” mumbled Juan.

Pablo rolled his eyes. “You’ve been through worse, haven’t you, Gordita?”

“Could’ve told me that two minutes ago,” Juan huffed. “Texts are a thing now, we’re not in the eighties anymore.”

He stomped back towards the stables, dragging a horse by its reins and pacing a few steps ahead of me. He turned around every other second, his eyes throwing daggers in my direction as if spending a single minute with me was some kind of torture.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I said, running a little to catch up with him. “You know, this morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered dryly.

He glanced back, watching Pablo’s silhouette disappear over a hill, and his shoulders finally relaxed.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it.”

Juan scoffed. “I bet you didn’t.”

“It’s just, you know–”

“I know,” he echoed. “If you don’t have sex with Pablo, you’ll die, or whatever.”

“Juan, we’ve talked about this,” I sighed. “I don’t do it to hurt you, I do it so he doesn’t murder me.”

He tied his horse to a post outside the stable, and finally looked at me from head to toe.

“I get it, Em. You don’t have to keep going on about it,” he said. “I’ll scream into a pillow and forget about everything but the lovely sight.”

“What, me and Pablo?”

“Ew, no,” he grimaced. “No, just you. The sight of you naked, is what I meant.”

Boy, does this guy give me whiplash, I thought, as he dragged me into a dark tack room. The soft touch of his fingers in the palm of my hand sent a warm chill jumping up my arm and down my back.

He rummaged around for a minute, while I stood awkwardly in a corner. He glanced at me, a smile at the corner of his lips.

“Just promise me the next time I see you in that position, it’ll be on top of me,” he murmured.

My back straightened, and blood rushed up to my cheeks. He reached up to grab something from a high shelf, and the bottom row of his chiseled abs peeked under his T-shirt.

I’d fulfill that wish right now, if that was what he wanted. I stared at the haystack in the corner of the room. From experience, I knew it wasn’t the most comfortable spot to make love, but if it had to happen right now, then it would. After all, my life often did seem like an endless series of frustrating repetitions.

“I promise,” I whispered.

My fingers toyed with the hem of my white shirt, wondering if now was the right time to take it off. My jaw clenched as he held up two leather bands. Was he comparing their sizes, or wondering if he should tie me up with them? Because if it was the latter, I might have let him do it.

I shook my head and swallowed a mouthful of guilty spit. Especially for me, that sounded like an unhealthy kink.

“Although, I couldn’t help but notice how wrinkly his balls are,” Juan muttered, his back still turned to me. “Doesn’t it bother you when they–”

He clapped his hands together, and I let go shirt. The image that popped into my mind was an instant turn-off, and I forgot all about the possibility of haystack sex.

“Like, I’m not an expert in saggy testicles, but doesn’t it feel kind of weird?” he asked,

“I thought you didn’t like picturing me having sex with Pablo,” I mumbled.

Juan shrugged. “I really don’t, honestly, but I guess it’s just some kind of morbid curiosity, you know.”

“Then I don’t think I need to answer your question,” I groaned.

His grin widened across his lips. “So it does. Wow, that’s so gross.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled and hit me with his elbow as he walked past me, his arms heavy with a studded saddle and a bunch of other rhinestoned tack he’d picked out.

When Pablo had helped me to get on the horse, Juan just led mine to a big rock and left me to fend for my own. Perhaps Pablo had known back then that it was a good occasion to cop a feel, but I wished things had been the other way around.

There were many times I wanted to shout at Juan and tell him ′Grope me, goddammit’, especially since for once, he had a good excuse to do so, but he was already climbing on his own mount.

Maybe Juan was just being respectful.

Maybe ignoring me was his way to get back at me for what I did with Pablo.

Maybe I was overthinking things again.

Juan didn’t seem too annoyed by my presence, perhaps just a little more absent-minded than usual. As we slowly walked the horses down the hill, we cracked a few jokes and chatted a little.

We spoke about how Andrea seemed to be doing better than yesterday, and how weird Manée was acting this morning. He told me it had something to do with an argument they had in the car on the way home from the club, and then the subject inevitably circled back to me and Pablo.

“I know you were high and all that, but what the fuck, Em,” he sighed, letting his reins dangle halfway down his horse’s neck, like a cocky kid rides a bike with no handlebars.

“For the last time, I didn’t do it to make you jealous,” I groaned, holding on for dear life as my horse sped up to a trot.

Juan stared at me, with that same half-grinning, half-glaring look he’d put on for the better part of this morning.

“Maybe not,” he mumbled, “but it worked anyway.”

We stopped talking when we finally caught up with Pablo and Oscar, who were letting their horses drink the water of a murky, deep teal river.

They’d been having a good time, running around and galloping a lot, or so I imagined from the layers of sweat covering both their foreheads and their horse’s butts, glistening under the scorching sun.

Pablo led his horse into the stream, and mine quickly followed, splashing ice-cold water around as it pawed at the river that reached right below its stomach.

“Squeeze your legs a little, Gordita,” he said, with a caring tone I hadn’t heard in a long while. “Your horse wants to roll in the water.”

“Ugh, thanks,” I groaned, as I desperately dug my heels in the horse’s flanks. “That happened to one of the girls at Pony Camp. She fell in, and the water was freezing."

“Pony Camp,” Juan chortled. “Fucking lame.”

He stared at me as he said it, and I didn’t know if he was bullying me out of spite or just trying to convince Pablo that there wasn’t anything going on between us.

Pablo shrugged. “I think it’s cute.”

“Nah,” replied Juan with a convincing grimace. “Trust me, horse girls are the worst.”

Pablo rolled his eyes as he watched his godson parading up and down the river.

“I don’t know,” he said, winking at me. “I think they’re great in bed.”

I answered with an uncomfortable smile, that quickly disappeared once Juan turned to me, flashing one of his old, mischievous grins.

“Hey Em, have you ever fallen off a horse?”

Before I could even open my mouth to say anything, he whistled, waved his hand, and my horse reared up on his back legs. I didn’t have time to breathe in or pinch my nose before I tumbled down into the cold water, and rose up spitting, sputtering, and praying a brain-eating amoeba hadn’t somehow crawled up my nose.

It had been a while since Juan had last found a way to throw me into a pool or some other body of water, now that he’d found better ways to make me wet.

As awful as it was to have to crawl up the riverbank like a sea monster, covered in mud, slimy moss, and waterlogged clothes sticking to my skin, I hoped this would persuade Pablo that Juan still had something against me.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Pablo muttered. “Gordita, cover your tits. And start wearing bras, or something.”

I looked down at my top, which was as transparent as a soggy napkin, and let out a sigh. Here we go again.

Pablo jumped off his horse, groaning as he unbuttoned his shirt and walked up to me.

“Take your top off,” he said. “You can wear mine.”

I glared up at the others. “Turn around, you pervs.”

Oscar quickly looked away, but Juan rolled his eyes at me.

“We’ve all seen you naked a million times,” he mumbled. “It’s nothing groundbreaking.”

“Close your eyes before I gouge them out,” barked Pablo.

“I’m into big, juicy melons, anyway,” Juan said, shrugging as he turned toward Oscar. “Have you seen Manée’s? Since she got her implants, I’m always scared they’ll burst if I squeeze them too hard.”

“And now we have to go home, before you catch a cold or your thighs start chafing,” Pablo complained. “Seriously, Gordita, at this point, it’s like you do it on purpose.”

“No I don’t,” I protested, pointing a finger at Juan. “It’s always his fault.”

“Well, Juanito wasn’t involved when you flashed all the cherubs in the church at his wedding,” he retorted, slapping his hand on my wet buttcheek as he helped me back up on the horse.

Panic flashed in Juan’s eyes for a split second, but he quickly composed himself.

“You got naked at my wedding?” he snickered. “If that doesn’t scream ‘attention whore’, I don’t know what does.”

He said it with so much conviction, that I almost believed he really meant it. Once we got out of this place, he could try out an acting career. I bet he’d be good at it.

“I’ll let you trash my girlfriend when yours stops making scenes at breakfast,” grumbled Pablo, as he kicked a swathe of water at him.

“My wife,” Juan corrected him.

“Whatever,” he groaned as he climbed back onto his horse, “I’ll race you up the hill. Whoever gets there first wins a thousand bucks.”

“Only a thousand?” Juan scoffed.

“I’m not racing you guys,” I mumbled. “I can’t even canter.”

Pablo’s horse was already stamping around with impatience. “Just hold on tight. Ready?”

“Turn your horse around, Em,” said Juan. “Pull the reins to one side.”

“Why?”

He let out an annoyed grunt as he leaned over, grabbed my reins, and turned my horse around. I felt the ground rumble beneath me, and by the time I looked over my shoulder, Oscar, Pablo, and their racing horses were nothing but two brown dots in the distance.

“Don’t you want to race them?” I asked Juan.

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a false humbleness. “It was my duty to save your life, Emily Smith.”

“Save my life?”

“Your horse would have taken off behind them, and given your shitty riding skills, you would have fallen off,” he explained. “And with your luck, you would have somehow lost your pants, and had to walk up the hill butt-naked.”

I laughed, and shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m not sure, I’ve been told I’m a good rider.”

Juan smirked, took a deep breath, and looked me right in the eye.

“I’m going to fuck you tonight, Em,” he told me. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget his name.”

My throat tightened and I squirmed in my saddle, as I felt a wave of heat wash over my entire body.

“Don’t blush like that, you know what you’re doing. You’re a fucking tease,” he purred. “And it’s driving me insane that I haven’t been able to do all the things I want to do to you.”

“R-really?”

“Em, I think about you all the time– when I’m awake, when I’m asleep, when I’m in the shower, when I’m eating. I can’t even flirt anymore, apparently, because last night some hot chick tried to talk to me and I kept calling her ‘Em’.”

I frowned at him, but he kept his gaze steady on me.

“When I see a single bit of you, it haunts me all day,” he said. “If your nipples are poking through your shirt, I want to bite them. If your legs are showing under your dress, I have to picture them up on my shoulders. And every time you open your mouth, I can’t help but wonder how cute your lips would look around my cock. Seriously, I’m obsessed. I think I know by now what you’d look like in bed, but I still need to find out how you feel, and how you taste.”

My core clenched, and my shoes filled up with water as my toes curled up.

“Do you always talk to women like that?” I murmured.

“Only to the few who make me lose control,” he shrugged. “And the ones who ask nicely. Why, don’t you like it?”

“It’s, uh, kind of hot,” I stuttered, rubbing my wrist against my burning, crimson cheek. “But I’m not used to dirty talk.”

“I can call you cute names, if that’s what you’re into,” he grinned. “I’ve got baby, angel, kitten. I can pat you on the head and call you a good girl, too.”

“Now you’re getting weird again,” I snickered.

“I’m not joking, Em,” he said, as the playful look in his eyes turned serious. “I’m coming to your room tonight, and I want you to be waiting with your clothes off and your bed all made, because I’m not going to wait another second.”

I raised my eyebrows and nibbled my bottom lip as I held back a nervous giggle.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

He tilted his head back, his smile widening again as he sucked in air between his teeth. “Fuck, Em. Don’t do this to me.”

I could feel heat spreading between my legs, melting my skin, and waking up the butterflies in my stomach. The feeling lasted until we reached the stables, and maybe a few hours more.

Juan limped away from his horse, wincing as he tried to soothe his dick through the tight fabric of his jeans. Meanwhile, I thanked God I’d fallen into a river, or my soaking wet panties would have surely left a treacherous stain on the saddle.

It was hard to keep it all in. I touched myself in the shower, and even though I came, it wasn’t enough to calm me down. No matter how much I fanned myself, or dived deep down to the bottom of the pool, I couldn’t stop the heat from taking over. I even refrained from talking, too afraid that a languished moan would slip out instead of words.

Juan didn’t make it any easier, with his fleeting gazes and discreet smiles. He’d brush his hand across my curves whenever he could do it unnoticed and squeezed my butt the very moment we found ourselves alone.

“Tonight,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t you dare forget.”

He even sat beside me at dinner, and softly stroked my leg under the tablecloth. I tried my best not to wriggle on my chair as he caressed my bare leg, and Juan squeezed my knee whenever he felt I was moving too much.

“Gordita, are you feeling alright?” Pablo murmured.

“Just having a– a hot flush,” I stammered, trying not to squeal as Juan’s hand crawled up my thigh. “Could you get me a glass of water?”

In the time it took for Pablo to walk to the other side of the table, Juan’s hand had wandered beneath my dress and between my legs. I quickly swatted it away.

When Pablo sat back down beside me, he rested his hand on my other knee, gently drumming his fingers on top of my naked skin. I tried to push it away, but all he did was dig deeper into my flesh.

Juan leaned on his elbow, pretending to be interested in the conversation, and hidden below the table, his arm reached towards me again. He traced a line on the inside of my thigh with the tip of his thumb.

Oh God. My jaw started to quiver, and my heart to pound in my chest. My fingers gripped my cutlery, shaking as I cut into my steak. Do I drop everything and pry both of their hands away?

I spread my legs out a little, so Juan and Pablo wouldn’t end up accidentally touching each other’s hands, but both of these idiots seemed to take it as an invitation to move their fingers higher up my thigh. So I opened my legs wider.

I was sitting in a full split, straddling my chair like the stupid slut I was. If someone looked under the table, all they would see was a different man’s fingers resting on each of my knees, framing my embarrassingly exposed panties. I thought of slamming my legs shut, but then they’d end up holding hands. If anyone dropped their cutlery, I was a dead woman.

A pearl of sweat rolled down my forehead, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. Pablo glanced at me with a smile, probably proud that he was turning me on.

One of them made his way up my dress again, and I couldn’t sit still. I jumped as his finger curled against my lingerie, parting me through the fabric, and a muffled moan slipped through my grinding teeth.

As a few eyes turned to me, I clasped my fist against my mouth and faked a cough.

“Sorry, food went down the wrong way,” I stuttered.

I leaned forward in my chair, hoping I’d crush the hand of whoever was rubbing my clit, but he pulled the lace aside instead. It was Juan, I knew it. I could feel his wrist pressing down on my right leg. I kicked his foot under the table, and his fingers slithered away.

Mere seconds later, Pablo gripped the skin at the top of my inner thigh. If I had acted just a few moments later, those assholes would have shook hands right in front of my pussy.

I tried to glare at Juan, but he ignored me, only gracing me with a quick wink after dessert, while everyone was busy getting out of their chairs and wishing each other good night.

I hoped I’d have time to take another shower before he showed up at my door tonight.

“Good night,” I told Pablo as I kissed him on the cheek.

He let out a loud laugh and wrapped his hand around my waist.

“Of course I’ll have a good night,” he chuckled. “I’ll be spending it with you.”

A Good Rider

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