Rodeo (BBW Cowboy Romance) (BBW Western Romance) (4 page)

I'd imagined all kinds of horror stories, I suppose the unknown is always an intimidating prospect but on this occasion I needn't have worried for one moment, Tommy had been kind, gentle and fully supportive and caring of my position, for my first time experience, I couldn't have asked for a nicer person to have it with.

I'd almost danced up the stairs that night and I don't even think my grandparents would have noticed due to the level of alcohol consumed that night but for me, I was high enough on my encounter to care about anything else and that night my dreams were almost alive too.

It certainly wasn't a solitary episode either, following my birthday we had taken to meeting up on regular occasions when we thought the adults weren't watching.  Like naughty little garden pixies we would skip off into the night, find somewhere quiet, usually the stables, and delve into the depths of each other's bodies and satisfactions.  It was a first, true love experience for me, for Tommy, I wasn't so sure and it was something I never even considered asking him.  I'd assumed, due to his level of awareness and guidance that I wasn't the first girl that he'd had sex with. I wasn't even sure whether he viewed it as sex or love.  It just happened and I knew how I felt, I loved Tommy and I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.

We did talk about everything else though; our constant conversations and sharing of opinions allowed us to not only enjoy each other sexually but intellectually as well.  Sadly, the one thing we didn't agree on was our own personal, future plans.  I was destined for university and Tommy was content with his lot on the ranch.  One of us would be spreading our wings and the other would be spreading manure.

Tommy talked with passion about the ranch, I on the other hand talked about meeting new people, evading the long hours and early mornings trenching the farm with pails of water and corn feed.  I was ambitious and Tommy was just accepting, he was to follow in his father's footsteps and it hadn't occurred to him to think any differently.

This became our ultimate downfall and so, by the time I reached my decision to leave the security of home and dip my toe into the big, wide world, Tommy refused to accept that it was anything less than him not being enough. Taking it personally we parted on very strong, emotional words, his not mine, and I left Gainsborough to better myself. 

It was time for me to fly.

I absolutely savored my time at university, applying myself into my studies was no task for me at all and I managed to juggle a steady balance of education and enjoyment.  Student life was a million miles away from farm life and although I always remembered my roots, I was ecstatic that I'd broken ties and taken on board what the future could hold for me in the city.  Initially it had been a very scary place to be, I missed home immensely but I was in and amongst so many other students who felt the same, I had encountered a great network of support at the slightest homesick hurdle.

In constant email contact with my grandparents, they were updated on a weekly basis as to my comings and goings, my progress and sometimes, my sadness.  I had emailed Tommy as soon as I had settled into my digs but never once heard back from him.  I decided to give up once my grandmother had told me he'd got himself a girlfriend.  I'll be honest and state that I felt a pang of jealousy but Tommy and I had both ultimately wanted different things, such was life and I had to get on with mine, it was now clear that Tommy was doing just that.

Before I had chance for any kind of regrets I had to remind myself that I was responsible for my own destiny and no-one and nothing was going to come between that.  I respected my grandparents life but society had moved on, it wasn't enough for me to find someone local, work the land and tend to the livestock without a wider inspiration, there was more out there for me and I'd been blessed with the brains to do something about it, I may have left that life behind but it would still be there no matter what direction my new life was going to take me.

When I'd graduated from university my grandparents had come to attend the ceremony.  It was so obvious that they were like fish out of water; I wasn't embarrassed by them at all, even though they both clearly felt awkward.  For my grandmother it had been her first time in the city, my grandfather had travelled in several times for purchasing purposes but the whole experience appeared stressful for my grandmother and it was obvious that she couldn't wait to get back to the security of familiarity.  They were very proud though and applauded my courage and aptness for expansion, even though it scared the hell out of them.

I'd always been interested in business and I had a particular flair for solving problems, so it was with a great deal of personal accolade that I found myself the perfect job.  I fast became
the
trouble shooter for all the major banking establishments in the city, everything from staff efficiency to extendible budgets were my forte, I was called upon by every level of management who envisaged smoother and more productive businesses.  My reputation was ruthless and my success rate was unbeatable; I was respected, something I was proud to have earned, not demanded.

My work schedule was hectic and my social life was very healthy, so when I met John, a successful businessman in his own right, I hadn't expected him to play such an important role in my future. I wasn't looking for love, I wasn't looking for anything other than personal achievement, he snook up on me without me even noticing, but he was a nice surprise all the same.

The total opposite of Tommy, my long, distant memory of first love, John was tall, dark and very handsome, he was sexy as hell and as smart as he was rich.  A typical football playing high school jock, he was strong, confident and, as I found out on our first encounter, very bold. 

Work colleagues were in constant amusement at my lack of love life, it neither bothered me, one I was far too busy for love and, two, no one had ever really caught my eye.  If anyone was counting, I'd been celibate for eighteen months.  I'd had a couple of flings whilst at university but to be honest, I'd carried my torch for Tommy for far too long and not one of them had compared to that first night with him in the stables.  Since then I'd thrown myself into my career and men were on the back burner in favor of business accomplishment, personally believing that concentrating on building my reputation was far more important than finding love.

Dinner parties were the norm for me and most of my friends had given up asking me to bring a 'plus one' so, after a few disastrous attempts at trying to fix me up with some of their other single friends, they'd resigned themselves to the fact I was perfectly happy on my own and in fact, much more fun on my own.  In these kind of situations a single woman can often find herself being a threat to other women, especially the married ones in fear of the single woman stealing their partners, I soon put that stigma to sleep.  It came to light, out of the blue one night that John was a male version of me, we both attended sad dinner parties but weren't the sad, single guests.  We hit it off together immediately.

John was as charming as he was handsome, his conversation was intellectual, his humor was hilarious and he enjoyed all the things I enjoyed doing in whatever spare time I managed to enjoy myself.  We were an instant team and in the eyes of all the relationship meddlers, their plight of interference came to an end.  We slotted together like two people destined to have met and it was a meeting of two minds that only grew from strength to strength on a daily basis. 

Sexually, I suppose John had the upper hand on that one.  Business wise I was at the top of my game but definitely lacked experience when it came to sexual partners.  John's family business had allowed him to travel and he gave the impression that women from all corners of the globe had thrown themselves at him; rich, older women, bored with their tired, old oil tycoons, young girls looking for their next meal ticket out of the country and into the city lights, not to mention the saucy showgirls who had taught him a thing or two about polished performances, and, who could blame any of them? 

When I'd first had sex with John I was impressed by his technique and performance, not to mention what he had to offer visually. The occasion itself had been heavily romantic starting with dinner in a top restaurant, followed by drinks in a swanky cocktail lounge.  It wasn't unusual for us to be joined by other people when we went out for the evening as both our social network circles spread far and wide across the city but on that night we were alone all night and found ourselves naturally lost in each other's presence.  As a surprise for our first time John had booked us into one of the city's most prestigious hotels, booking the penthouse suite naturally.

Perfectly organized, although relaxed and informal, we'd both settled into an ease of conversation laced with sexual chemistry floating anonymously in the shadows.  I wasn't nervous at all, John played the charming suitor to perfection and beyond and when we finally made love, all my nostalgic thoughts about Tommy drifted away.

The conversation was great, the laughter was plenty and the sex was more than satisfactory.  John became my second love.

John owned a shipping business which took him all over the world, this for me was the perfect relationship as it gave me space and allowed our relationship to have absence which, in the world of clichés, makes the heart grow fonder.  John wasn't so agreeable about the 'space' aspect of things though and I felt that he became slightly clingy when he was away on his trips.  Jealousy reared its ugly head occasionally but I wasn't about to advocate that kind of behavior on any level, I was and always had been a very independent person and what John needed to learn more importantly was that I was a loyal person.

Reviewing my work schedule every Monday morning was a headache in itself for me, however when John was away on one of his trips he failed to see that work came before his demands of 'what I had done that particular weekend', it had caused quite a few arguments which I'd had to appease with great patience and tongue-biting.  John could, if I allowed him, behave like a spoilt, teenage boy at times, something I didn't find very attractive in any man, let alone my partner.  Regardless of this, hopefully, momentary flaw, I loved John with all my heart but didn't feel the need to pander to his every whim. 

I respected that he was an independent man and that even independent men could be insecure at times but these kind of struggles needed to be nipped in the bud at the very first appearance, so, when he proposed to me the first time, I declined.  John was visibly outraged and if I remember rightly, he refused to speak to me for about a week.  I didn't back down and he slowly came to his senses, I explained to him that once I was confident that the proposal wasn't a way of balling and chaining me then I would re-consider my initial decision, this may sound cold-hearted and callous but I'm a business woman and every aspect of a proposal, be it business or love, has to be considered carefully.  Some people would think that I'm a bitch, I prefer the word 'pragmatic'.

Following this, John did relax his approach and behavior, once he saw that it worked for us and our relationship became better, he realized, albeit reluctantly, that I was right.  So, another 6 months down the line he plumped for another proposal, this one I accepted. 

It wasn't a particularly uplifting experience, with John's grandiose gestures, endless pot of money and exuberant lifestyle you would have thought he'd whisk me off to Paris but instead, as we were leaving yet another dull dinner party he decided to ask whether or not I would re-consider my previous declination.  Driving through the city streets, witnessing the midnight party revelers and avoiding the drunken antics of nightlife I accepted his lukewarm offer of marriage and immediately groaned inwardly at the prospect of wedding planning and the time it would consume of my already busy life – not exactly the romantic scenario any future bride would expect.

True to myself, the wedding plans went ahead like a business plan.  I hired a wedding planner in the shape of Miguel who turned out to be my knight in shining armor.  Firstly, Miguel was gay and he was camper than a field of tents, he was wedding planner stereotypically personified and we hit it off as soon as we spoke on the phone.  We arranged to meet at the weekend in a swanky new restaurant and as I walked through the plush, rotating doors it was like stepping onto the set of Sex and the City.  Miguel rushed himself forward, didn't care about personal space and became the anchor to my floating yacht; his ideas became my ideas and equally, vice versa.  John hated him which made him all the more appealing in my eyes.

We probably spent more time getting up to mischief than we did actual wedding planning but as our 'thick as thieves' camaraderie blossomed, so did our friendship, we ended up planning the perfect wedding; Miguel was in his element and I was about to get hitched.

Money was no object for either myself or John.  I didn't for one second expect my grandparents to afford such luxury and without sounding like a snob, I knew they couldn't afford it.  It had been a struggle trying to explain this to them without sounding patronizing.  So, when they offered to pay an amount towards the cost I persuaded them to spend the money on themselves to be able to come to the weddings itself, adding that this would give me greater pleasure, it went down well and everyone was happy.

Not only was Miguel a genius in the planning department, he was also turning out to be a great friend. He had me in stitches of laughter every time we attempted to plan something serious and when I moaned about not having enough time for me to try on dresses, veils and shoes he quite simply made a cardboard cut-out of me, complete with my face on the head! He proudly wheeled it into my office one Monday morning and I laughed so hard it certainly diminished my normal Monday Blues.  The rest of the office started to look forward to Mondays too as Miguel would appear at my office door with a different outfit on the cardboard model!

John and I had set a date 10 months from the proposal, time flew and before I knew it I was walking down the aisle with my Grandfather holding precariously onto my arm, for his benefit, not mine.  We exchanged I do's, placed a ring on each other's' fingers and honeymooned in Dubai, no expense spared. 

Then it all changed.

To put it bluntly, John changed.

It was almost instantly, as soon as the ring was on my finger and the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.  Where he had once been close, almost stifling, he turned distant and selfish, previous to us being married he'd always complimented me on my fuller figure and my ability to feel comfortable and confident in my skin, this quickly turned into him becoming critical and negative.  I was sincerely shocked at the speed of change in his behavior.  If I'd have been 'fat' I could have seen a slight point to his aspersions but I was far from fat.  I was a general, average size; a twelve on top and a fourteen on the bottom. Shapely and womanly.

I can't even say that our honeymoon was completely enjoyable because when I think back, his jibes and superior attitude played a heavy part of that time too.  I recall getting dressed for dinner one night and John making a comment about the dress I had chosen to wear; a cerise pink maxi dress that I'd intended to accessorize with black jewelry.  As I was putting the finishing touches to my evening wear John had remarked, rather ungraciously that lumps and bumps were visible and that wearing black with pink accessories would have been much more slimming.  Not usually slow to bite back with a resounding defense I was lost for words, for one, I was slightly taken aback by the cheek of his statement and, two, it actually made me question my own choice in outfit.  However I was no pushover and refused to be bullied by his dig, I sprayed my suntanned, olive skin with expensive perfume and smiled sweetly in his direction, he soon got the hint that I was in no hurry to change.