What I Kept Silent About My Summer Job at the Stables

The summer I finished high school, I decided I wasn’t going to spend three months sprawled on the sofa at home. I wanted to start university with some money saved up, enough to pay the first month of student housing without asking my parents for it. I had just turned eighteen and a very naive idea of what working meant.

I looked for a couple of weeks and found nothing. Nobody wanted to hire a young girl with no experience. The only steady thing I had was walking the neighbors’ dogs in the mornings, but that barely covered my bus pass.

One morning, while I was running through the park, my phone rang. It was the temp agency. They told me a stable-hand position had opened up at a riding center on the outskirts and that my résumé was a good fit.

—Sorry, but I don’t know the first thing about horses —I replied, stopping dead beside a bench—. I only walk my neighbors’ dogs.

—Don’t worry, we already know that —the girl on the other end answered—. It’s to cover the leave of an employee who got injured. It would only be a week. You’d have to brush the animals and get the gear ready for the riders. Nothing else.

I spent a while trying to convince her that they had the wrong candidate, until she told me how much I’d be paid for those seven days. Then the tables turned in an instant and I was the one insisting on starting as soon as possible.

—Tomorrow at eight at this address —she texted me minutes later—. Enjoy it, and do whatever they tell you.

Do whatever they tell you. I didn’t attach any importance to that phrase. I should have.

***

I didn’t have a driver’s license, although I had put that I did on my résumé. Since it was Saturday, I asked my father to give me a lift. The place was huge, much bigger than I’d imagined: it even had a practice field and a very long row of white stables shining in the sun.

I was met by Daniel, a guy my age who had worked there for a year. He was kind, he spoke quickly, and he laughed at his own jokes. He explained what my tasks would be, showed me where they kept the brushes and saddles, and took me on a tour of the facilities.

—Let’s hope you don’t end up like Núria —he said, with a smile I didn’t fully understand.

—The agency lady told me she hurt her leg —I replied—. How did it happen?

Daniel kept smiling, but something in his expression chilled.

—For not following instructions. Things work a certain way here. If you respect the rules, nothing happens. If you don’t, things can happen. And they happened to her.

His answer was so odd that I didn’t want to ask anything else. But I did take in that, whatever that place was, the best thing to do was what they told me.

—These three will be your horses this week —he added, pointing to the stalls at the back—. Brush them and get the saddles ready. Their owners are coming this afternoon to ride them.

He showed me how to do it with the first one, a huge chestnut horse named Brío, and left the rest to me. Good luck, he wished me before leaving. I’ll admit Daniel knew a great deal about horses, much more than he let on with his jokes.

***

The hours passed quietly. I learned to move through the straw, not to startle the animals with sudden motions, to tighten the girths as far as Daniel had shown me. When the sun began to go down, all three horses were gleaming and the saddles hung perfectly aligned. I felt proud, as if I had been doing it all my life.

I was putting the brushes away when someone knocked their knuckles against the stall door.

—May I come in?

—Good afternoon —I said, turning around—. Who are you?

—Brío’s owner, the chestnut one. I’ve come for him.

The man came in and walked over to the horse. He stroked his neck and the animal answered with a calm snort, as if he had known him his whole life. I snorted inwardly too, but for a different reason: he was smoking hot. He must have been in his mid-thirties, with dark hair tied back in a short ponytail and riding clothes so tight every muscle stood out.

—So you’re the new girl everyone’s talking about —he said, without taking his eyes off the horse.

—Excuse me?

—Don’t take it the wrong way. They talk about you because of how pretty you are. —At last he turned to me—. But don’t worry. Here, the only one who’s going to touch you is me. I don’t want a repeat of what happened the other day.

His words left me frozen in place. What happened here the other day? What do you mean, only he touches me? It took me a few seconds to react, and when I did, I wanted to get out of the stall. But he blocked my way, without touching me, just with his body.

—Where are you going? We’re still talking.

He was so close that his scent undid me. I don’t know what he was wearing, but he smelled like leather, clean sweat, and something else I couldn’t name. Every feature of his face grew sharper the more I looked at him.

—Sorry if I sounded abrupt —he said, lowering his voice—. But when I saw your photo on the agency file, I called my HR manager to have you hired that same day.

I can’t believe this, I thought, not daring to say it out loud.

—Last night I was looking through your social media. I have to admit you kept me up.

If any other guy had said all that to me, I would have kicked him and be dialing the police. But coming from him, it only felt like a dangerous compliment. And the worst part was realizing my body had made up its own mind. I could feel the heat rising inside me, my clothes suddenly too tight, my breathing shallow.

—I see I’m not the only one who’s having trouble concentrating —he said, looking me up and down.

—Sorry, but I can’t. I have a boyfriend. —It was a lie. I was single. But what image would I give if I slept with a client on my first day at work?

—All right. I respect that. —He stepped back—. But first I want to show you something.

***

He put his hands to his belt and yanked his riding pants down in one motion, without ceremony. He was hard, thick, a vein running along him that pulsed slowly. I found myself staring longer than I should have, and he noticed.

—I hope your boyfriend’s is like this —he said, almost amused.

I don’t know what came over me. I raised my hand to rest it on his chest and stop him, but instead of pushing him away, I let myself sink to my knees in the straw. It was as if an outside force had taken control, as if the sensible girl who had arrived that morning had stayed outside, in my father’s car.

I took him into my mouth in one go. He was so hard that at times I could barely take him in, stretching my jaw and stealing my breath. I dug my hands into his hips and pulled him toward me, wanting him all the way to the back, thinking of nothing but that moment.

—Do you want me to fuck you? —he asked, his voice rough, one hand tangled in my hair.

—Yes, please —I begged, barely a thread of sound.

We were both on the edge, as if any extra touch would send us exploding apart. With a movement I hadn’t expected, he hauled me up from the floor almost without effort and pressed me against the wooden wall of the stable. The smell of hay and animals filled everything.

—Listen to me carefully now —he said, his mouth against my ear—. I’m going to fuck you, we’re going to come, and when this is over you’re going to call your agency and tell them you want to work here full time. In return, you’ll have all the money you want. With one condition: that you take care of my horses and that you’re mine when I decide.

His words, instead of bringing me back to my senses, only lit me up even more. So that’s what this was. Maybe that was why the job had opened up, maybe that was what had really happened to Núria. At that moment I didn’t care.

—Okay —I said, surrendering—. But tell me your name, please. That’s the only thing I’m asking.

—You can call me sir. That’s what I’m going to be for you. And you’re going to be my girl.

—Okay… sir.

***

He kept every one of his words. He drove into me against the wall again and again, my legs hooked around his back, my nails digging into his shoulders. Every thrust tore a moan from me that I tried to smother against his neck so no one outside the stall would hear. I didn’t recognize myself. The girl who had arrived that morning to walk horses had disappeared, and in her place was someone who only wanted to obey.

We came almost at the same time, him driving in to the hilt, me shaking with an orgasm that ran from the nape of my neck to my heels. It was so intense that the last thing I remember from that afternoon is the ceiling of the stall spinning above me before everything went black.

I woke up the next day in a hospital bed. On one side were my parents, pale, asking me how I felt. On the other, seated with a calm no one else understood, was he. He held my gaze for a second and, without my parents seeing, mouthed a single word: tomorrow.

I called the agency that same week. I told them I wanted to stay on at the stables permanently. My parents thought it was for the money. And, in part, I didn’t lie to them.