FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Caroline.

The drive down the coast was soothing, though I normally hated driving. For some reason, the long straight stretch of road was like a balm for my nerves, and the further I drove, the more I left the cares of a wrecked life behind. The sun beat down, the traffic seemed obligingly ready to leave me alone, and my daughter Margaret sat beside me with her ears firmly tuned to the music coming from her iPod. I enjoyed the company without the conversation for once, and I thought she might too. There were too many questions at the moment without good answers, for both of us.

I really tried hard to blame Greg for walking out on us. Part of me knew the reality though, as much as I shrank away from it. Though he had physically removed himself from the relationship and taken off with his secretary, it had been a long time since I had left the building emotionally. When he finally did leave, it took me some time to awaken from my slumber.

Of course Margaret felt the loss keenly, and her anger was strangely restorative. I felt guilty letting her rage against her father, but I secretly needed it to sustain me. There were awkward questions though, ones she tried to ask and I batted away. Hence why the silence was so welcome.

As we wound our way finally down the coast, I let my eyes take in the blue ocean and the seagulls floating on the breeze. My nostrils spread wide from remembered sensations and I hit the button on the automatic window on the passenger side to let the smell fill the cabin. My daughter at last roused herself from listening to the undiluted crud that passed for music these days.

"Hey! Might have warned me mum!"

She furiously grabbed onto her mane, trying to bring it under control as the wind rushed in to flap it about her shoulders. My filly was sensitive about her mane, always had been. I didn't know why, it was always perfect, silken black against her chestnut coat. When she was younger she talked about getting it died or clipped or braided in gold or any number of things to change it, but I always loved it just as it was, a simple braid in three. Now she fussed over it as if it was something that might hurt her. I quickly reversed the window.

"There, no more nasty breeze. One could be forgiven for thinking that you never felt the wind in your mane young filly."

"I'm not a young filly any more Mum. I'm a mare."

I bit back my teasing retort and frowned. There was such flat finality in those words now, since that bastard Doug had gone. It was as if he had taken the spark, all of the best of her with his malign presence. And in the part of me that I tried not to acknowledge, I wondered how much was also due to the breakdown of my marriage. My Margaret was a mare after all; she had been caring or me these last weeks enough to show that, but not a happy one. I hoped to God this holiday might cure her of that too, as much as I needed it badly for myself.

We pulled up to the cottage and I killed the engine. It was just as I remembered it, three years ago. The same white painted walls, the same neat garden. Our friends had a gardener who came every week to keep the neat box hedge and kitchen garden going, and I greeted the plants like old friends. I could even smell the mint and rosemary from the herb plot above the tang of seaweed and ocean. I could feel the stress oozing from my body like some powerful contaminant; almost as if a dark mass were leaking from my coat to pool at my hooves. I knew I had made the right decision.

We worked as a team then, hauling the luggage and supplies into the cottage, turning on the hot water service, checking lights and the fridge. Everything seemed to be as it needed to be, and I was conscious of the need to make a home, even for this brief sojourn. It was my way of finding a space I could inhabit, one that suited me and made me feel in control. I had learned from my mother, and she from hers I guessed. The patterns of the generations seemed uninterrupted for decades; I wondered if they would last the test of the internet age.

Looking around for Margaret, I found her on the verandah, a transported smile on her face and nostrils wide drinking in the scents of the town. I joined her, taking in my own lungfull of ozone. It had bittersweet memories for me, but I needed it now. I also needed some space.

"Why don't you go for a walk hun, I will be a while setting up here and to be frank that's easier with you out of the house."

"Ok mum, I might head for the pier. I'll be back for dinner."

I gave her a hug and watched her trot down the hill, and I realised I was smiling at the sight. My filly had become a mare. It was the one thing that Greg and I managed to get right.

I busied myself around the cottage for a while, arranging everything just as I liked it. The garden called to me, and I picked a posy of flowers to sit in an improvised vase made from a large waterglass. Things always felt better with flowers around. Greg used to see it too, surprising me with a bunch of roses when I least expected it "just because". The trajectory of our relationship could be charted by the absence of these little things, which spoke of the larger absence inside. We no longer cared so much.

We. At least here, and with Margaret out of the cottage, I could find the right pronoun.

I decided to fight back with cooking, and headed for the kitchen to make bread. It was one of the little routines that kept me sane, when the life of a theatre nurse made sanity a challenge. I was proud of my accomplishments, and proud to be a professional in my own right. Greg knew that was what I wanted when we got married, though he pretended afterwards that I had reneged on the deal. But there was no deal, not to me. Even with the hours and the stress, I kept a good house though, and the routine of making fresh bread was one that acted as a gravitational force for my sense of self. It anchored the day, and reminded me of the little things I enjoyed. I had brought all the fixings with me, along with some prepared meals for our sojourn. Today I would make my first loaf though, and smell the smell of fresh bread alongside the ocean.

The thought did set off a chain of memory in me though, and it brought me to a halt for a while, with the dough unmade. I had tried to pass on my love of cooking to Margaret, but somehow the seed never germinated. Not until three years ago; and then at the hands of a very different mare.

Natasha was a force of nature where I was a quiet breeze that sustains. The Palomino had everything going for her it seemed, and it was Natasha who finally managed to get Margaret willingly into a kitchen. Greg even said he liked her cooking more than mine; I wondered when he said that, if he knew, and was trying to bait me.

I sat for a long time, with the image of another equine in my mind. Broad, bulky, laughing, physical as much as Greg wasn't. And hands that made me gasp and made my body sing...

It took a moment before I recognised the vibration for what it was. I had turned my phone onto vibrate, confident that work would not call me unless it was an emergency and in that case I was religiously determined not to answer. Someone was ringing me anyway though, and I looked at the screen for a second and felt the cold thrill that went up my spine as I recognised the number.

"Vaughan...?"

"Mum! It's Margaret...um...why did you think...how..."

"Sorry dear, I remembered the number from the last time we were here. Strange what comes back to you...now, I take it you found the Morrison place? I wondered if you would...tell me how are they all?"

"Oh Mum..."

I gripped my mobile with white knuckles filled with dread as I heard her fight back a racking sob. Please no...please Epona, not this...

"It's Natasha. She...she died seven months ago. And Vaughan...he's a mess..."

I realised I felt enormous relief, and I hated myself for it. Yet more for the deep well of self hate that I bathed in all too often these days. I knew not to dwell though; men have it wrong, as with most things really. They make out that women are the flighty emotional impractical ones, but we are the ones who know how to get things done when they have to be done. Children, home, family, we know how to put it to one side when it counts. So I would now; my filly needed me it seemed.

"What happened? Where is Thomas?"

"She got cancer Mum. A brain tumour...Tommy...he wrote to me but I didn't read it...Doug made me ignore him and...oh Mum..."

"Margaret, time for that later, for now, what's going on?"

"Vaughan is drunk, looks like he is most of the time. Tommy has been trying to look after him but he's losing the battle, and Vaughan just fell and cut himself and there's blood everywhere..."

"Enough. I'll be there as quick as I can. Same place?"

"Yes..."

I headed for the bathroom and my small portable medical kit. I never travelled without it, and I knew most nurses did the same. Hopefully it would do the trick, though my daughter wasn't a great source of information. She was too rattled.

The car chugged into life and I headed down into town, passing the roundabout and into the driveway I remembered. The garden gave me the first clue; it had been one of Natasha's proudest achievements. Now it was an overgrown mess. I could hear noises from inside, sounds of distress, sounds of argument. Time for a calming presence. I pressed the doorbell.

I was glad that it was Margaret who answered. She was plainly rattled but striving for calm on the outside at least.

"Well daughter of mine. This is a turn up for the books."

"Mum! Enough comment for tonight thanks. I need you."

"I know hun. And I'm glad you called me in."

The house was more familiar than the wreck of the garden, and not as damaged bar the cobwebs that stubbornly decorated the cornices. I knew my way...even in my sleep I knew the way. Into the lounge I assumed, from the noise. The colt Thomas was trying to complain, but I could hear the strain in his voice, along with the other things. Guilt, shame, pain. He would need careful handling; as would the stallion, that much I knew the moment I saw him.

"Hello Thomas. Hello Vaughan. It's been a long time, and I wish I was seeing you again under better circumstances."

Vaughan had been making a valiant attempt at righting himself, but he groaned and fell to the floor when he locked eyes with me. Thomas' reaction was altogether different though. He seemed about to let it all out, then visibly controlled himself and instead found somewhere for his pain to go, pointing wide open eyes at Margaret and hissing like a snake.

"I said I've got this." I could feel my filly bristle, and knew it was one of those take charge moments.

"Thank you young stallion, but it should be clear to you that you haven't. Margaret filled me in, and I must admit I'm terribly sad for you both. Natasha was an amazing mare, you were both lucky. But, and my daughter was right in this, it's clear neither of you are coping well and this little emergency needs more than just strength. Something you've probably got precious little of left Thomas, if I'm any judge."

It was a gamble, but the right one I knew. I saw the colt try to fight it then deflate. He knew I was right, and he knew his pretence was pointless now. I knew; and though he might be resentful, he would also be grateful.

I concentrated on my training, kneeling beside the fallen stallion while the younger one held his father's head. I looked up just briefly, enough to see a tear drop from the colt's red eyes. I was more right than I knew; he looked as on the edge as his father.

"Hold his head for me Thomas. Please."

He nodded groggily, fighting back the tears, and I delicately examined the wound. Nasty, but treatable, the fall had torn a jagged gash in Vaughan's forehead and peeled back a flap of skin. That area of the body is highly vascular, and tended to bleed like nothing else, but the wound was mostly superficial. It would need attention, but unless he was concussed, probably nothing more serious. I brought out sterile pads to mop up the blood and patted the stallion's hand.

"Good to see you as clumsy as ever Vaughan."

He managed a flicker of a smile. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you after three years Caroline. Welcome back to our humble abode, the blood is mostly mine. I only beat the devil colt up on special feast days."

"Dad!"

I managed a laugh, and Vaughan even chuckled while Thomas looked indignant. He needn't have worried though, I knew Vaughan would never lay a hand on the colt. He didn't have it in him.

"Thomas, I think your father is in no immediate danger. I need to do some things here to treat him then probably get the local GP on the case, none of which are made easier by having you two around."

"He needs me!"

I gripped his hands then, and looked hard into his eyes. For the first time, I saw the changes the last three years had brought. He was a stallion, in many ways. He was also still a lost colt too, who didn't know he was. I had to be patient.

"Thomas, you have done an enormous job. And yes, he will need you still, but right now, he needs you looked after you so I can look after him. Right Vaughan?"

"Listen to her son. Mares know these things, just don't ever admit I told you that!"

He screwed up his face but nodded, rising effortlessly to his hooves from his seated position. Strength, and a lot more grace than he used to have, the once awkward colt had become more like his father it seemed, though he bore his mother's Palomino colouring. He would be an interesting mix, I had always thought. I could see then why Margaret found him intriguing, and wondered what she would make of him now. Time to give things a little nudge perhaps, if only in the interests of my own needs.

"Why don't you take Margaret back to our cottage for some dinner Thomas? She could do with your company..."

I could see the effect that had on him like watching a wildebeest brought down by a lion. I knew I probably shouldn't, but excused myself with the thought that it probably would happen anyway. They needed to talk, that much I could tell, and Margaret needed the kind, gentle always attentive colt I remembered three years ago. I just prayed he hadn't gotten lost under the testosterone.

"Go..." Vaughan put the final seal on the deal, and the colt headed through to the kitchen and a whispered conversation with my daughter. I turned my attention back to his father.

"Well Vaughan, if you wanted to see me, you didn't have to go to these lengths..."

"Hahaha...owwww...."

He tried to rise again but fell back in pain. Clearly there was more going on too, and I checked for other signs of damage. I saw the empty whisky bottle, and the other signs, the way his eyes had aged, the gray in his mane. A handsome muscled stallion was how I remembered him, all flowing bulk and long feathering and mane. The mane was haggard now, and gray as well as white, the coat blotched, the feathering matted, and his beautiful eyes were glazed.

Margaret and Thomas poked their heads in to check on us , and I shooed them away with a smile. Vaughan made a big show of smiling too, and it seemed to mollify them, for they headed out into the evening. I waited till they were long gone before I got to what I needed to, though I worked my way up to it.

"How long have you been drinking Vaughan?"

"Only a couple of hours, I swear..."

I gave him the look, and he stopped. "Since...since the funeral I guess..."

"Seven months ago..."

"Yeah."

"And Tommy knows?"

"He's been cleaning up after me...yeah, he knows...and other things..."

I asked the question but he just shook his head. Time enough for that later I guessed, for now, I had a patient to deal with. At least the youngsters had gone, and I went to get some water to wash the wound and found the number beside the phone.

"Is this your GP Vaughan? Doctor Roylance?"

"Yeah."

"Time I gave him a call."

I managed to persuade the good doctor to come over after his surgery finished; this would need stitches and probably a few. I got the bleeding stopped as much as I could, and lay beside the stallion, who had moved back to the couch. He felt warm, and I could smell his scent. It still had the old effect on me, even now.

"Does he know?"

"What?"

"Does Tommy know. About us."

I saw his eyes cloud again, shutting out the unwelcome reminder of past transgressions. I needed to know though, so I pressed on.

"Does he?"

"I don't think so Carol. I never told him, and I don't think...I think he had some suspicions, but he never said anything..."

"Probably just as well."

I knew the harder question too, and I wanted the answer and didn't. Vaughan seemed to know, for he gave a long pained sigh that had nothing to do with his head, and mumbled.

"Natasha knew. It hurt, but she let it pass."

"How?"

"She asked, and I didn't know how to lie any more. She seemed to know the answer anyway."

I could only nod. Natasha was freakishly intuitive that way, I always wondered if she would work it out. Strangely, and to my shame, I didn't care either way. It had felt right, too right, and I would have given up anything for that feeling.

When our two families connected thanks to our offspring, I had been thankful of the distraction. The holiday was threatening to be a disaster, with Greg and I trapped in the little cottage with nothing left to say to each other. The relationship had started turning towards the end for years before, and this was supposed to be an opportunity to rekindle something. One hour together in the cottage without Margaret showed what we were up against; Greg spent the entire time in communion with his Blackberry, and I spent my time reading. We never spoke.

Natasha and Vaughan were an interesting and arresting couple, from Natasha's creative flair to Vaughan's charm. They were fun to be around, and even Greg came out of his shell and managed to play beach cricket without frowning. Thomas was clearly besotted with Margaret, though our daughter seemed to be ignoring that as best she could. Early on though I realised there was another line of attraction operating, and it didn't involve the gawky teenage colt.

The big stallion was easy to be around, his humour and his generosity made it a pleasure. When Greg and Natasha struck up a friendship based on their mutual liking for golf, I had no objection to them spending a day together on the local course. Tommy and Margaret were off exploring the town, and that left me in the care of Vaughan. He brought me a drink on the back patio, walking around half naked as he tended to do around the house. We talked easily, and as time went on I found myself admiring him more and more. It was plain the admiration was mutual. We edged closer, engaging in the timeless dance. I knew it was wrong, so very wrong, but the feeling of basking in a big male's attentions was too enticing. Before too long we were kissing, and it felt as good as I could have imagined.

Vaughan was everything Greg was not. Open where Greg was closed, charming where Greg was prickly. Not as brilliant either, but far more physically desirable. The big shire was still the best lover I had had. The feel of his body made me jelly in his hands, I could still feel the burn of his muscled chest against mine as he pounded into me. He knew how to use more than his penis too, unlike most males I had known. Tongue, fingers, everything went into my pleasure so that when he finally slid inside I was already well conquered. His hardness simply finished the job.

When he came, he held me against him and kissed, another big difference to Greg. My husband couldn't wait to get back to something else once he had cum, but Vaughan seemed to bask in the feel of our embrace. When he hardened again inside me, I knew I had to have more. Thankfully he was of the same mind, and I held onto him as he rode me wildly to a new shattering climax. Things with Greg would never be the same after, and it wasn't long before we gave up on sex entirely. That was the beginning of the end.

The thought that Greg had something like I had with his secretary should have hurt, and it did but in truth, I was also grateful in a way. Free of the burden of guilt; and in the end, I did still love him a little. I was glad he had someone at least. In a way we he had made us equals.

As I held the big shire now, I felt him stir against me, his hands reaching for my body. I didn't stop him, and I found myself coming alive again at his touch. I nuzzled against him and stroked his mane, wondering at the gray amongst the white. It didn't diminish him in my eyes.

"I'm sorry we didn't stay in touch Carol..."

"We agreed, didn't we? A one off fling...and keeping in touch would have complicated things..."

"I know. I'm still sorry."

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there...well..."

"I don't know that Natasha would have appreciated you being around somehow."

I had to grimace at that. While I might be able to feel no guilt for Greg, the same could not be said for the mare. I had no excuse for this crime, which made me all the more defensive.

"Did she...well, did she threaten to leave?"

He held me close and just rubbed my back.

"She did, but I knew she didn't mean it. The truth was...well, the truth was, you weren't the first. I'm sorry Carol, but you need to know what a louse I was in reality. We had been there before; I think Natasha gave me more last chances than I deserved. She had a fling once, I think just to show me how it felt, but I knew she really didn't want to. You were the last for me though, and the only one I felt...well..."

I stiffened, but relaxed as he stroked my mane. It should not have been a shock I guess, his charm and his sensuality were compelling, and probably many succumbed to them. Still I felt cheated a little, though his words carried something else, a hint of what we had. That it was more than just a fuck.

"So what happened?"

"When she got sick, I got my shit together. For her, and for Tommy. Found what I needed to be faithful, and to look after her, and she stuck with me."

"She needed you at last, and you stood up."

"No, I think it was simpler than that. The poor stupid mare actually loved me. Always had, and I...she actually loved me."

That was the end for Vaughan, the stallion breaking down in my arms. Tears flooded onto my mane, and I held him as he shook in hopeless anguish. There was nothing I could do except that, and so like a good nurse I did.

We were saved by the doorbell, and I let the GP in while Vaughan composed himself. The old badger fussed and prodded but managed a respectable set of stitches, and the stallion managed to joke and banter his way through the ordeal. Afterwards, I managed to get him on his hooves and into the shower. He was in sore need of attention.

I had done this for my mother, in a totally different context and many years before. The wizened mare, old but still sharp, had come home from hospital weak and crotchety. I took care of her, trying to be a daughter and a nurse, and feeling as if I was failing at both. After several fights over nothing, I finally insisted on looking after her in the shower and she agreed with bad grace. Something about the act of caring for her that way seemed to mend the hurt though.

Now I had my lover, a big but fragile stallion, in the same situation. I turned on the water, letting it settle not too hot, and I stayed away from his wound as best I could while I tended to his hurts and his body. By the time I had washed out his mane and his feathering, he was smiling, and as I ran fingers through his tail he pulled me into a kiss. He was steady on his hooves now. It was I who was shaking.

Our hands roamed over wet fur, and I felt his touch. His muzzle closed on my nipple and I moaned, barely coherent enough to turn off the water. I reached for him, finding him already dropped and hard, the heat of his erection familiar and exciting.

We didn't speak. We didn't need to.

Still dripping wet, we somehow made it to the bed, and I firmly laid him on it. He watched me, a little uncertain, as I straddled him, rubbing his flare on my swelling lips until I felt ready. Then he was inside me, and I saw his eyes widen in shock and joy as we joined. It did not last long, it didn't need to. His body tensed, and I saw him throw his head back and let out an unrestrained whinny and felt the heat inside as he filled me, and I fell over him to feel his chest against mine again and play with his mane. He smiled; it was the smile I remembered.

He wanted to talk then but couldn't find the words. I tried to stop him with a kiss.

"Don't Vaughan. Just enjoy the feeling..."

"No complaints from me. If I'd known that getting my head cut open would have this effect..."

"We must be crazy. I must be crazy. This is insane."

"Funny, it's the most sane I've felt since Natasha got sick."

"You must think I'm mad..."

Now it was his turn to silence me with a kiss. I melted against him.

"No. Never that. Except maybe for falling for an old worn horse, that's a bit crazy I'll grant you. But I've wanted this ever since you left."

"Our offspring will be wondering where I've got to."

He kissed me again, harder, his time fondling my nipple. I tried to ignore what he wanted.

"Stop that! You have to recover from your fall, and I have to help Margaret and see what our two are up to."

"Probably the same as us Carol."

I pinched him and got a pained whinny for my troubles.

"Don't say that. Margaret is still recovering from a bad relationship; I doubt she is that silly."

"Silly like us do you mean?"

"That's not what I meant Vaughan. And Thomas is a good colt."

He gave a sigh and fell back onto the bed while I searched for a towel.

"I know. He has a lot of Natasha in him, lucky colt. Still makes me get all misty eyed when I see him."

"Just as well then, he should be more sensible than you." That drew an evil grin from the stallion, one I chose to ignore while I dried off and checked the location of my clothes. All present and accounted for at least.

He watched me, a little hurt, as I dressed and tried to get my mane back under control. He nodded though when I was done, approval in his gaze.

"Still beautiful Carol. Always beautiful."

"You're a flatterer..."

"No, I just know beautiful when I see it. Are you going to send Thomas back?"

"I think I should. You probably need him."

The stallion nodded, a little sadly.

"I have let things go, I know that. And I've relied on him too much, and made things hard for him, and I know that too. I've seen him age Carol, and not always good, these last few months. He deserves some fun, and I know how much Marg meant to him. Let them have some time."

As I clipped my earrings on, I gave a final look in the mirror and turned to Vaughan. He looked ready for more, and I forced myself to be good. For now I needed some emotional space again, and fast.

"There will be plenty of time for that, we are here for a while..." his ears pricked up, and I had to return the wide smile he gave me at the news. I knew I couldn't resist either.

"But right now, you need rest, and Marg and I probably need to talk. And with Thomas hanging off her every word, that won't happen. Don't worry, I'll be nice but firm..."

"Hmmm...from his description of Margaret...it sounds like your daughter takes after you more than a little bit..."

As I trotted up the hill back towards our cottage, I ruminated on that a little. I found myself smiling; I hadn't thought about it much before, but for some reason this night, the idea that Marg might have taken after me was an appealing one.

When I reached the little gate and headed across the gravel path towards the front door, I heard noises and gasps from the open window at the front. It was a warm evening, rich with the scent of the ocean, and I had been enjoying that smell all the way back. As I got closer to the window however, new scents began to register, ones that were familiar for having been recent.

Through a gap left by the open window I saw them, my daughter straddling the colt, his hardness sliding into her as she rode him. I briefly wondered if I was a little perverse; the image didn't shock me, and I found myself comparing the stallion to the one I had just left. He had filled out, more like his father than he was at 15. Her cries and moans matched his, and I felt if anything a little sad and didn't know why. I thought of stopping them, but something held me back. They were enjoying each other.

She was more like me than I knew perhaps. Though maybe I had taught her better than I thought; at least in Thomas she had found someone who clearly worshipped the ground she walked on, and who cared enough to make her make those noises too. If I had learned nothing in my middle years, it was how much that mattered.

I wondered what to do, stuck out there in the night, as their noises became loud again. Peeking briefly, I saw they had changed places and I had a view of the colt, now a stallion I guess, laid out on top of her with his hips moving and his tail swishing. I wondered if that was we looked at that age, when Greg managed to get me out to the shed behind my parent's farm house and we made furtive love always worried we were about to be discovered. We were good together then, for a little while at least.

Eventually I managed to sneak through the door, grimacing occasionally as the hinges creaked or a floorboard gave an exaggerated squeak. I had reached the kitchen, and managed to put my keys down and find the remains of their dinner, and I was about to head for the bedroom when I heard voices; and they were not happy.

"Tommy, listen to me, you made me cum so much, no one has made me feel like this, it was beautiful hun, I just..."

"I said save it. I'm sorry Margie. I'm so so sorry. I'm still the useless colt you ignored all those years ago, except now I'm an eighteen year old virgin, even more pathetic. I was stupid to think it could be different."

"No!"

I tried to make a break for the bedroom but instead got an armful of colt. He was naked, magnificently naked, and I found myself admiring even amidst the awkwardness. He looked like he wanted to die right there, his hands covering his genitals and trying not to meet my gaze with his eyes. He managed to find his clothes on the lounge room floor and dressed in the haphazard way teenagers do before he galloped out the door, mumbling in his wake.

"S...sorry...g'nite...sorry..."

"Tommy! Please, I'm sorry! Please come back!"

Margaret had dressed too, and the tears had come. She was standing in the kitchen looking lost as she stared at the front door. I could hear the stallion's hooves crunching on the gravel, but he did not stop. I closed the door and pulled her into my arms, stroking her mane as she cried.

"I think you had better tell me everything hun."

She was too wrung out to speak for the moment, and I found some tissues and blew her nose for her as she tried to fight for composure. I managed to get her to the sofa and seated before she dissolved in tears again. She reached for the glass and the mostly empty bottle of Reisling and I watched her down the wine with a slight frown. That was new...and not good.

"Hun, what happened?"

"I'm an idiot!" she yelled it out, like she was accusing herself. I held her and waited for the moment to pass.

"I take it you two..." I didn't mention that I had seen them. I thought that was one embarrassment too far, for all of us.

"Yes."

"And...?"

"Oh Mum, it was...he was great. And I ruined it."

"How could you have done that my silly filly?" It was our pet name for her, from when she was three, and when I wanted to put her at ease I still used it. This time I got a smile.

"In the way only I can. I freaked out and made him think I hated what we had done, and now he hates me."

"I doubt that dear. He might be hurt, but he wont hate you. He might hate himself for a bit, but he wont hate you. I doubt that colt could."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, and it brought forth fresh floods of tears.

"Mum I know that. Don't you think I know how he feels about me, especially after we...and now I've gone and wrecked everything."

"So why did you freak hun?"

"He is...was...a virgin. This was his first."

"Oh my..." now I was surprised. That hadn't occurred to me, and gave at least some context to the emotional angst. "And you assumed..."

"Yeah."

"So what if he was a virgin?"

"I know, I just wasn't prepared for the emotions. I thought he would be like most of the guys I knew, arrogant and useless, but at least ready for a casual fuck if that's what I wanted. And after Doug...I knew I wanted to feel good and not really care about the guy. I just wanted a part of me back, and he gave me that...but I realised when he told me, what I'd done. I could see how much he felt, and I panicked."

I patted her hand and pulled her against me. At least there was something to work with here.

"Hun, can I let you into a secret?"

"Yes?"

"Guys may seem like they are arrogant and useless and don't give a damn, but few of them actually do. And I doubt this one has it in him to do that."

"Doug..."

"Is the exception. Thankfully, to almost every rule."

"So what do I do?"

"Go to him. As soon as you can. Tell him what you told me, and ask him to forgive you, but don't demand it. He will come around, his pride is hurt and he will need some time to let his anger out and forgive you, but he will. He loves you Margaret, he has since you were here last. He waited for you; that tells you something."

She nodded and sniffed. "Mum...why haven't you told me off yet?"

"That is for another time daughter of mine. And maybe, I'm feeling things a bit. Life is short, and too short to miss chances to be with someone who really cares and makes you feel immortal. Did Thomas do that?"

She frowned and nodded, suddenly realising I think in that moment that she wanted him too. And it hurt to think she might have blown it. If only she knew how many times in life you blow these moments, and yet things go on. And even then sometimes you get second chances.

Maybe the feeling of a certain stallion against me was the reason I was being so calm too. But I wasn't going to tell her that. Not now, maybe not ever.

"Well, go then."

I got a smile from my filly, and a kiss on the nose. If she knew just what secrets I was keeping, I shuddered to think how she might feel. But instead I got to be the understanding mother who could advise in the ways of love. I headed for the fridge and the second bottle of Riesling to banish the rising sense of ennui, along with the image of a young stallion mating with my daughter. One who reminded me of the other one who made me burn with need, knowing how close he was. I would sublimate those thoughts in alcohol for now, and a copy of "The Bride Stripped Bare".

I had downed three glasses and was feeling vaguely comfy when the door opened. I expected Margaret, and called her name, but instead found the stallion of my unquiet dreams made flesh. His voice came from the lounge.

"Caroline, it's me. I've brought Margaret back..."

I emerged into the lounge wearing a robe, to find the two looking slightly panicked. I was suddenly grateful for the wine.

"You haven't seen Tommy have you?"

I frowned. "No, he hasn't been back. What happened?"

"He never came home, but I don't know where he is. He isn't in his usual spots, and his friends haven't seen him. Between us we know most of them I think, but no sign. And his phone is off. "

I cursed the waywardness of young stallions, but discretely under my breath, as I pulled Margaret towards me. She looked stricken, and I patted her mane.

"Hun, don't worry. Men need their space sometimes, and a place to work out their anger. He will be back when he's ready, and the better for some time to himself. You rest, and when he comes home tomorrow, my advice is don't ask him where he went. Let him have something for himself."

I looked at the stallion and caught his eyes. He was worried. I knew Thomas was a good colt, recent activities notwithstanding. His father did too. This was uncharacteristic.

Then again, losing his heart and his virginity in the one night was something new. I just hoped it hadn't pushed him into stupid.