The Stablehand
#2 of Art quickies
A mini story to accompany The Stablehand
The villagers called him simply "Stablehand". He was not the only one - at least three others plied the same trade. But they went by whatever mundane names they had been given: names for the unremarked, and unremembered. He alone had the grander title.
The day was waning when I reached him. He knew I was coming; truly, I had feared all did. I could not well conceal my sidelong glances in the market, and soon enough he noticed me. I ducked my head in embarrassment, although I could not have voiced why. Perhaps at being caught out, like a naughty child. Perhaps because the eyes, deep-set under a high brow, smouldered at me; even at a distance, their heat kindled a matching warmth within me. The hawking fishwife before me grinned at my unsubtle looks across to him. "You best be afeared that one, aye?" was her cackling advice. "He do for you as he do his horses...and he not let any horse get away."
He never approached me, but when I wrestled my courage sufficiently to look at him directly, he smiled and dipped his head in silent greeting. His fine fur shone in the midday sun, like polished black marble, and he moved with equine grace. If I placed stock in such things, I might have said there was a spell at work: some invisible thing, spun by dark practitioners, made fast between us and pulling, pulling inexorably. My eyes were fixed upon him as he moved, collecting purchases and speaking with people, and he looked my way more often than chance. All were pleased to be the focus of his attention. Faces ran flush with blood at any words from the handsome stallion; gifts were pressed into his hands. He was ever gentle and patient, thanking all for their kindness, accepting their largesse and offering things in return.
And then, before I felt I had even begun to drink my fill of the sight of him, he was done. He made to leave, sauntering down the path, and my heart grew sad. But he turned, at the last, and met my eyes again. Blue as summer skies, I beheld some new mystery in them now, one I was fain to know more intimately. His head bent up, along the fields and to the hill, to where mill and stables stood against the clouds. He looked back at me and paused until I gave a quick nod, and he then a slower one. And then he was gone - vanished behind a bend, leaving me wanting.
I climbed that same hill now, in the waning heat of the day. I felt still the warmth his glance had placed inside me, hotter than the reddened sun, and each step closer fanned it more to life. He stood outside his stables, empty of horseflesh for now. He was shirtless in the afternoon, and I could trace the lines of his body better and better with every step closer. His arms were crossed, and he smirked at me. If I had harboured any remaining doubts that this course was wise, that sight whisked them from me in an instant. Finally, I stood before him, breathing a little heavier than usual. He noticed and tilted his head in amusement.
"My hill is not so steep." Ice-cold river water on a summer's day; a lover's soft caress against the skin. The smouldering within me burst into a raging fire. I was consumed by his voice. He surely knew what it did to me; he must. Uncrossed arms dropped to his sides, and one hand slid yet lower, pressing against his cotton breeches. He outlined himself, long and weighty; the hinted-at treasure, waiting to be uncovered. When I could eventually bear to pull my eyes from it, riding up over cobbled muscle back to his handsome face, I beheld a new expression, like a furnace unshrouded. It consumed me, even as I stood there, with furious intensity: lust, and desire, and power.
He raised his hand to his shoulder and cocked it behind him in invitation. I peered into the mysterious interior, briefly wondering how many others he had lured here. But, no...not lured. There was no sorcery or dissembling here. The only powers at work were those that were always present between two males. We were drawn together by our need, the heady and natural attraction of masculine to masculine. We would join, body to body, and find our satisfaction within one another.
I stepped forward and led my horse into the stable.