I first saw her leading a beautiful horse over a show course. The way she steered the beast was impressive; the animal following her lead obediently. She was dressed in white slacks that hugged her hips and a red blouse. Her face was obscured by a big hat. I couldn't help but notice how her body filled out her clothes seductively; the curves more than evident. From where I stood, I could see long dark hair flowing from her hat. I was in Kentucky at an event given by a company trying to get me to buy their wood for flooring for the residential buildings I own back in New York. I was being wooed, and their was a chance I might pick up some of their product. But at this moment, I was more interested in the woman leading the horse.
Food was served after the exhibition. I saw her at the buffet. I waited until she had her plate, found a table and sat before I moved to the same table. I wasn't hungry but had some food on my plate so as not to appear too obvious. "May I join you?" I asked her.
"Certainly," she said. "The seats aren't saved as far as I know."
I smiled and sat. She still wore her hat, but upon closer look, I noticed tiny wrinkles around the corner of her eyes along with dazzling green eyes. Her skin was dark, either deeply tanned or naturally olive-tinged. I placed her somewhere in her early forties, probably five or so years younger than me. "The way you handled that horse was amazing," I said, opening up our conversation.
"Why thank you. But Luke is the amazing one."
I didn't understand
"The horse," she said. "He's a charm to work with."
I shrugged. "I admit I don't know much about them. I'm city boy, I guess."
"Oh, what city?" she asked.
"New York."
"Ahh, the Big Apple. I haven't been up there in many years. I hear it's changed a lot."
"It has," I said. "And mosty for the better."
"That's what I hear."
"I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. Frank," I said, offering my hand.
"Kay," she responded and holding out her own hand.
I took it and squeezed hers gently, small in my big hand, not soft; her work obviously required some hard work, but fingernails were long and manicured dark red.
'Very nice to meet you, Kay," I said.
"Why thank you, Frank." She replied with another of her dazzling smiles.
From there the conversation flowed effortlessly. I learned of her work with the horses and love of animals. That she was divorced and had a son named Gregory who was tragically killed in Afganhistan several years ago. And that the animals and her work with them helped her through the very tough times after her son's death.
I told her about my business. That I had a daughter who was college-aged and living with her mother in France. That I, too, had been in the military; my time spent during the first Gulf War. I told her of my love of travel, art and sports; how I've competed in amateur mixed martial arts events and how I dabble in cooking as well which, I think, impressed her the most.
Before she had to get back to her horses and get them packed up, I asked for her number. She was hesistant for a moment and then gave it to me. Since I was leaving for New York in a couple of days, I asked her right there if she would join me for dinner before I left.
"Let me think on it a bit, Frank." She said, obviously wary of some stranger from the big city trying to find some fun on his long weekend down south.
"No worries, Kay. I'll call tomorrow. If you don't want to, I'll understand."
She looked at me then and from her expression, I knew I would be seeing her again before I left town.
I offered to pick her up at her home and bring her to the restaurant where I made the reservation for our dinner, but she said she preferred to meet me there; that she lived "way out in the country." I didn't persist. I was early and had a drink at the bar as I waited for her. I have been with many women and have no difficulties finding sexual partners. Since my divorce, though, I've really had no interest in a relationship. I cherish my freedom and take full advantage that freedom gives me to pursue adventures, sexually or otherwise. There was something about this dark-haired woman, however, that made me pause. I couldn't put my finger on it yet, but it was there. She was different.
She didn't keep me waiting long. She arrived wearing a burgundy dress with thin straps and cut just low enough to expose generous cleavage and her lusciously swarthy skin. Her shoulders were toned and what I noticed of her legs, mid thigh down, appeared firm and muscular. She had her hair up in a fashionable bun and her neck was bare immediately stirring my desire.
I took her hand again and, a little awkwardly, brought her close to me and kissed her on the cheek. She apologized for making me wait, even though she really hadn't. I asked if she wanted a drink. "Bourbon would be great," she said.
"I should have known," I said with a grin.
"Hey, I am a Kentucky Woman," she said with her own grin.
"How do you like it?" I asked.
"Neat, how else?" She said and again I knew there was a reason why she attracted my attention.
