Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Chapter Nine
Chapter Wordcount: 2081
“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” Tareena grinned, throwing Jensen’s duffle bag onto his stomach.
He groaned, cracking his eyes open.
“Fuck…the, what?”
“Pack up!” she said, walking down the hall.
“Pack…what?”
She was grinning ear to ear when she came back and held out a cup of coffee for him.
He squinted at her, taking the mug with a mumbled thanks before slipping on his glasses.
“Christ,” he groaned, “It’s six a.m.!”
“Yup,” she grinned, shoving a pair of jeans into her own duffle bag and zipping it up. “Now hurry up and pack, we gotta hit the road in thirty minutes.”
“Thirty…wha…it’s Saturday!”
“I know,” she grinned, walking over and taking his mug from him, taking a sip before he panicked, thinking she was going to take the blessed caffeine away from him before he got to ingest any of it.
He grunted, hand coming up to scrub through his hair when she handed the steaming cup back.
“Just trust me babe,” she grinned, heading back down the hallway. “And hurry up!”
Jensen was still grumbling, nursing his coffee as he climbed into his truck twenty minutes later, squinting behind his sunglasses as she climbed in and started the engine.
“Mind explaining what we’re doing?” he growled.
“Nope,” she grinned.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbled, leaning his head back against the headrest, hands curled around the warm coffee mug.
She laughed and pulled out of the parking lot.
Jensen groaned, hand coming up to rub at the crick in his neck from where he had leaned awkwardly against the side window when he fell back asleep.
He jerked, hand falling to his lap, belatedly remembering he had had a cup full of coffee in his hand before he dozed off.
Tareena chuckled beside him, pointing to where the now empty ceramic mug sat lopsidedly in the truck’s cup holder.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and looking out the window at the acres of trees and fields that stretched out in all directions around the car.
“Where are we?”
“The country.”
“Thanks,” he quipped, shooting her a look.
She grinned, turning the truck off the two lane blacktop onto a dirt road.
“You do have good timing though,” she smiled, “We’re almost there.”
He grunted, still staring out the window trying to figure out where they were. His brow furrowed when she drove through an open set of iron gates, he tried to read the sign but he couldn’t because the angle.
He sat up straight as she pulled the truck up to a barn, an older gentleman waving at them as she parked and got out.
Jensen shot a look around as he stepped out. A log cabin that must have doubled as a house and office sat slightly up the hill, nestled in the evergreens. The barn they parked off to the side of matched the house, solid wood construction blending it into the landscape. He could hear the horses snuffling inside, occasional nicker breaking the soft silence.
“You must be Tareena,” the man grinned, extending his hand when she walked up to him.
“I am,” she smiled, “Nice to meet you Mr. Miranda.”
“Marlo, please,” he grinned. “And you must be Jensen,” he smiled, reaching out to shake his hand as well.
“Yea,” Jensen mumbled, looking over at Tareena and wondering what the hell she had planned.
“I already got ‘em all tacked up, they’re ready to ride as soon as you are. If you want to get you’re bags I’ll go ahead and throw ‘em on Glide along with the food I packed up for you guys.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, heading back to the truck to get their duffels.
“You’ll be on Sailor,” Marlo said, leading Jensen into the barn and over to where the slick black gelding was cross-tied, bridle handing on the hook next to him. “He’s the best horse I have.”
Jensen grinned and nodded, turning when he heard Tareena come up behind him, handing their bags to Marlo.
“And you will be on Miska,” he smiled, showing off the big red-bay gelding that stood in the cross aisle, broken white star and snip on his face.
“God he’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding out her hand for the horse to sniff, laughing when he playfully mouthed at her fingers.
“He’s huge,” Jensen grinned, coming up behind them.
“He’s part Friesian,” Marlo grinned, clapping the horse on the neck as he ducked his head to rub against Tareena.
She laughed, reaching up to scratch his ear, smiling when he tilted his head into the touch.
“Tareena told me you both have experience, you’re welcome to put their bridles on and mount up while I finish packing up Glide for you,” he smiled, heading off deeper into the barn.
“You mind explaining what we’re doing yet?” Jensen grinned, coming up beside where Tareena was still scratching Miska.
“Nope,” she grinned, walking around him to grab the black leather bridle.
“Is that an English saddle?” Jensen asked, walking over to look at the saddle on the gelding. “There’s nothing there, it’s like half the size of a western,” he said, looking back over to where Sailor stood, tan tooled western saddle on top of his back.
“Pretty much,” she grinned, slipping the jointed snaffle into Miska’s mouth when he dropped his head for her. “But that’s what I learned in. Asked Marlo if he had one when I called.”
Jensen watched her for a second. He had known that she knew how to ride, she had told him she had worked on a small horse farm for a half dozen years. But he had never seen her around any horses and he smiled at how at ease she was. Constantly aware of the horse, even when her back was turned, moving around the large animal with no fear, even standing behind him to run a brush over his coat before, slipping on gloves and dragging over a step stool, stepping into the metal stirrup and vaulting herself into the saddle, settling down softly.
“Get mounted up, I’m gonna go ride in the arena for a minute, let him get used to me,” she said, nudging Miska with the heel of her boot, the gelding immediately pushing off, loud clop of hooves over the brick aisle way as she walked him outside.
Jensen did, smiling to himself when Sailor dropped his head, opening his mouth for the bit. He patted him on the neck, putting his boot in the stirrup and hauling himself on top of the horse, patting him again when he stood perfectly still as Jensen got situated. Marlo wasn’t kidding when he said he was the best horse he had.
He had one hand resting on the horn of the saddle, reins held loosely in his grip, the other on his thigh as he rocked back and forth on the saddle, heading over to where Tareena was riding.
He halted Sailor outside the arena, watching as Tareena stretched forward, slipping her fingers over the browband of the bridle before leaning back, hand brushing over the top of Miska’s tail before sitting up.
Her back was straight as a board, hands soft around the reins, heels pulled down, calves tight.
He had never ridden English before. Sure he had seen the Olympics once or twice. Black top hats and white pressed pants. He couldn’t help but be impressed as he watched her.
He saw her fingers roll and Miska’s head ducked, nose perpendicular to the ground, neck in a graceful arch and he could see the horse contract, collect himself under her and picked up a trot. Flowing back forth motion that made him look like he was just barely grazing the ground, Tareena letting the natural push of his hindquarters lift her from her seat in time with his hoof beats.
He watched as she sat down, barest movement of her leg and he picked up a perfect canter, soft rock as she circled the ring, body following the movement in the saddle.
Made the western riding he was familiar with look barbaric.
The whole thing was graceful. Movements, commands to the horse that he couldn’t even see most of the time, the red gelding answering immediately to whatever she asked, beautiful bow to his neck, rippling of his muscles, legs thrown out long when she brought him back to a trot and asked for an extension.
She circled sharp, bringing him down the center of the area and stopped dead in the center, Miska’s hooves falling in a perfect square, head still bent, soft white foam on his lips as he mouthed the bit.
“Damn,” he whispered, leading Sailor out into the ring with her.
She turned, finally noticing him and laughed. “Sorry, been a long time since I rode, let alone with a trained horse,” she smiled, leaning over to pat the horse’s neck, loosening the reins, the gelding stretching out his neck and relaxing underneath her.
“That was amazing, I could never do that,” he said, waving toward the saddle. “I think I’d fall out of that thing, there’s nothing to hold onto,” he grinned.
“That’s the point,” she smiled, turning Miska back towards the barn where Marlo was leading Glide out, the chocolate bay that was their pack horse, their duffels secured over his haunches and some saddle bags on his sides, no doubt with the snacks and water Marlo had packed for them.
“You guys are all set,” he grinned, handing over the lead rope to Tareena. “I packed an extra bridle for this guy,” he said patting Glide on the neck. “I drove out there last night so there’s grain and hay and food for you guys already there.”
“Thanks Marlo,” she smiled, clucking to Miska and headed for the tree line.
Jensen was tempted to ask the man what he meant, but he had already waved and was halfway back to the barn. He nudged Sailor with his heel and followed Tareena into the woods.
An hour later and they still hadn’t arrived at wherever they were heading.
Tareena halted on the edge of a hill, miles of Canadian wilderness spread out below them and reached into one of Glide’s saddle bags, taking a long pull on a bottle of water before offering it to Jensen.
He drained half the liquid before handing it back.
“I’d ask what’s going on, but I have a feeling you still won’t tell me.”
“You’re right,” she grinned.
He shook his head and laughed, easing Sailor after her when she turned and continued walking.
There was a clearing further along and she turned to grin at him over her shoulder before knocking her heels into Miska’s side and took off at a gallop.
“Oh hell no,” he grinned, laughing out loud as he pushed Sailor into a run after her.
They let the horses rest after their run, joking and laughing as they passed the bottle of water between them and Tareena leaned back, arms crossed behind her head and stretched her back out over the cantle of the saddle and over Miska’s haunches.
Jensen laughed at her. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he grinned, eyeing the way her back was bowed over the swell of the back of the saddle, legs still straight down on the sides of the horse.
“Are you kidding me? It feels awesome, been a long time since I’ve been riding. Feels good to work all these muscles,” she grinned, body rocking with the up down movement of the gelding’s hips.
He nodded, slipping his toes out of the stirrups to let his legs dangle as the horses continued walking. There was a pleasant ache and slow burn in his legs and arms. Working and stretching muscles during their ride that he normally didn’t use. He might be sore later, but it was the good kind of sore. The kind that made you want to just lie in bed and relax, instead of groaning in pain and popping aspirin.
Another half hour later and Tareena turned them up a dirt path, small log cabin nestled next to a lake. Lean-to barn and rough wood fence off to the side. Soft golden glow of lights already burning in the house.
He shot her a look, smiling when she grinned at him and swung her leg over, sliding down off the saddle.
“Come on,” she grinned, “Help me get these guys set up for tonight, I’m starving.”
Chapter Notes:
Marlo Miranda is actually the name of my high school auto teacher, that man is one of my best friends EVER, I love him like family and still keep in contact with him even though he moved 500 miles away
The three horses are all based off REAL horses, three of my boys that I used to work with
Sailor (Smooth Sailing)...who is who I learned to ride on is a black Thoroughbred/Trakehner mix and is an absolute gentleman and sweetheart
Glide (Electric Glide) is a bay Thoroughbred, these pictures are from when he was about a year old, he was sold to the same people that own his sire (father) and is now racing
and Mikey (Miska) who is my BOY, out of all the horses I helped raise/train he is my favorite, he is a bay Thoroughbred/Friesian cross...these pictures were taken sometime when he was 1-2 yrs old
now for anyone who doesn't know about riding...
this is an english (more specifically a dressage) saddle:
this, is a western saddle:
as you can see very different. I have NOTHING against western riding, I would LOVE to learn how someday and in no way do I mean to belittle the training or effort it takes to ride western, but I personally learned how to ride Dressage, that is what I was taught, and I've been told by more than one person that if you can ride dressage, you can ride anything.
Now in case you don't know what dressage is, and don't feel bad, a lot of people don't, here are two vids on youtube of Olympic level riders. Now obviously I was never and will never be at this level, the riders and horses in these videos have been training practically every day of their entire lives to get to where they are. Also, most tests (the competition) are NOT ridden to music. But high levels, such as the Olympics, do have "Freestyle" which is where you write your own test set to music. Both these videos are of Freestyle tests. I hope you'll watch them, they really are art on horseback. I get shivers just watching them.
Anky Van Grunsven riding Keltec Salinero
Andreas Helgstrand riding Blue Hors Matine
as you can tell, horses are a passion of mine ;)
Previous: Chapter Eight | Next: Chapter Ten
Chapter Nine
Chapter Wordcount: 2081
“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” Tareena grinned, throwing Jensen’s duffle bag onto his stomach.
He groaned, cracking his eyes open.
“Fuck…the, what?”
“Pack up!” she said, walking down the hall.
“Pack…what?”
She was grinning ear to ear when she came back and held out a cup of coffee for him.
He squinted at her, taking the mug with a mumbled thanks before slipping on his glasses.
“Christ,” he groaned, “It’s six a.m.!”
“Yup,” she grinned, shoving a pair of jeans into her own duffle bag and zipping it up. “Now hurry up and pack, we gotta hit the road in thirty minutes.”
“Thirty…wha…it’s Saturday!”
“I know,” she grinned, walking over and taking his mug from him, taking a sip before he panicked, thinking she was going to take the blessed caffeine away from him before he got to ingest any of it.
He grunted, hand coming up to scrub through his hair when she handed the steaming cup back.
“Just trust me babe,” she grinned, heading back down the hallway. “And hurry up!”
Jensen was still grumbling, nursing his coffee as he climbed into his truck twenty minutes later, squinting behind his sunglasses as she climbed in and started the engine.
“Mind explaining what we’re doing?” he growled.
“Nope,” she grinned.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbled, leaning his head back against the headrest, hands curled around the warm coffee mug.
She laughed and pulled out of the parking lot.
Jensen groaned, hand coming up to rub at the crick in his neck from where he had leaned awkwardly against the side window when he fell back asleep.
He jerked, hand falling to his lap, belatedly remembering he had had a cup full of coffee in his hand before he dozed off.
Tareena chuckled beside him, pointing to where the now empty ceramic mug sat lopsidedly in the truck’s cup holder.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and looking out the window at the acres of trees and fields that stretched out in all directions around the car.
“Where are we?”
“The country.”
“Thanks,” he quipped, shooting her a look.
She grinned, turning the truck off the two lane blacktop onto a dirt road.
“You do have good timing though,” she smiled, “We’re almost there.”
He grunted, still staring out the window trying to figure out where they were. His brow furrowed when she drove through an open set of iron gates, he tried to read the sign but he couldn’t because the angle.
He sat up straight as she pulled the truck up to a barn, an older gentleman waving at them as she parked and got out.
Jensen shot a look around as he stepped out. A log cabin that must have doubled as a house and office sat slightly up the hill, nestled in the evergreens. The barn they parked off to the side of matched the house, solid wood construction blending it into the landscape. He could hear the horses snuffling inside, occasional nicker breaking the soft silence.
“You must be Tareena,” the man grinned, extending his hand when she walked up to him.
“I am,” she smiled, “Nice to meet you Mr. Miranda.”
“Marlo, please,” he grinned. “And you must be Jensen,” he smiled, reaching out to shake his hand as well.
“Yea,” Jensen mumbled, looking over at Tareena and wondering what the hell she had planned.
“I already got ‘em all tacked up, they’re ready to ride as soon as you are. If you want to get you’re bags I’ll go ahead and throw ‘em on Glide along with the food I packed up for you guys.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, heading back to the truck to get their duffels.
“You’ll be on Sailor,” Marlo said, leading Jensen into the barn and over to where the slick black gelding was cross-tied, bridle handing on the hook next to him. “He’s the best horse I have.”
Jensen grinned and nodded, turning when he heard Tareena come up behind him, handing their bags to Marlo.
“And you will be on Miska,” he smiled, showing off the big red-bay gelding that stood in the cross aisle, broken white star and snip on his face.
“God he’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding out her hand for the horse to sniff, laughing when he playfully mouthed at her fingers.
“He’s huge,” Jensen grinned, coming up behind them.
“He’s part Friesian,” Marlo grinned, clapping the horse on the neck as he ducked his head to rub against Tareena.
She laughed, reaching up to scratch his ear, smiling when he tilted his head into the touch.
“Tareena told me you both have experience, you’re welcome to put their bridles on and mount up while I finish packing up Glide for you,” he smiled, heading off deeper into the barn.
“You mind explaining what we’re doing yet?” Jensen grinned, coming up beside where Tareena was still scratching Miska.
“Nope,” she grinned, walking around him to grab the black leather bridle.
“Is that an English saddle?” Jensen asked, walking over to look at the saddle on the gelding. “There’s nothing there, it’s like half the size of a western,” he said, looking back over to where Sailor stood, tan tooled western saddle on top of his back.
“Pretty much,” she grinned, slipping the jointed snaffle into Miska’s mouth when he dropped his head for her. “But that’s what I learned in. Asked Marlo if he had one when I called.”
Jensen watched her for a second. He had known that she knew how to ride, she had told him she had worked on a small horse farm for a half dozen years. But he had never seen her around any horses and he smiled at how at ease she was. Constantly aware of the horse, even when her back was turned, moving around the large animal with no fear, even standing behind him to run a brush over his coat before, slipping on gloves and dragging over a step stool, stepping into the metal stirrup and vaulting herself into the saddle, settling down softly.
“Get mounted up, I’m gonna go ride in the arena for a minute, let him get used to me,” she said, nudging Miska with the heel of her boot, the gelding immediately pushing off, loud clop of hooves over the brick aisle way as she walked him outside.
Jensen did, smiling to himself when Sailor dropped his head, opening his mouth for the bit. He patted him on the neck, putting his boot in the stirrup and hauling himself on top of the horse, patting him again when he stood perfectly still as Jensen got situated. Marlo wasn’t kidding when he said he was the best horse he had.
He had one hand resting on the horn of the saddle, reins held loosely in his grip, the other on his thigh as he rocked back and forth on the saddle, heading over to where Tareena was riding.
He halted Sailor outside the arena, watching as Tareena stretched forward, slipping her fingers over the browband of the bridle before leaning back, hand brushing over the top of Miska’s tail before sitting up.
Her back was straight as a board, hands soft around the reins, heels pulled down, calves tight.
He had never ridden English before. Sure he had seen the Olympics once or twice. Black top hats and white pressed pants. He couldn’t help but be impressed as he watched her.
He saw her fingers roll and Miska’s head ducked, nose perpendicular to the ground, neck in a graceful arch and he could see the horse contract, collect himself under her and picked up a trot. Flowing back forth motion that made him look like he was just barely grazing the ground, Tareena letting the natural push of his hindquarters lift her from her seat in time with his hoof beats.
He watched as she sat down, barest movement of her leg and he picked up a perfect canter, soft rock as she circled the ring, body following the movement in the saddle.
Made the western riding he was familiar with look barbaric.
The whole thing was graceful. Movements, commands to the horse that he couldn’t even see most of the time, the red gelding answering immediately to whatever she asked, beautiful bow to his neck, rippling of his muscles, legs thrown out long when she brought him back to a trot and asked for an extension.
She circled sharp, bringing him down the center of the area and stopped dead in the center, Miska’s hooves falling in a perfect square, head still bent, soft white foam on his lips as he mouthed the bit.
“Damn,” he whispered, leading Sailor out into the ring with her.
She turned, finally noticing him and laughed. “Sorry, been a long time since I rode, let alone with a trained horse,” she smiled, leaning over to pat the horse’s neck, loosening the reins, the gelding stretching out his neck and relaxing underneath her.
“That was amazing, I could never do that,” he said, waving toward the saddle. “I think I’d fall out of that thing, there’s nothing to hold onto,” he grinned.
“That’s the point,” she smiled, turning Miska back towards the barn where Marlo was leading Glide out, the chocolate bay that was their pack horse, their duffels secured over his haunches and some saddle bags on his sides, no doubt with the snacks and water Marlo had packed for them.
“You guys are all set,” he grinned, handing over the lead rope to Tareena. “I packed an extra bridle for this guy,” he said patting Glide on the neck. “I drove out there last night so there’s grain and hay and food for you guys already there.”
“Thanks Marlo,” she smiled, clucking to Miska and headed for the tree line.
Jensen was tempted to ask the man what he meant, but he had already waved and was halfway back to the barn. He nudged Sailor with his heel and followed Tareena into the woods.
An hour later and they still hadn’t arrived at wherever they were heading.
Tareena halted on the edge of a hill, miles of Canadian wilderness spread out below them and reached into one of Glide’s saddle bags, taking a long pull on a bottle of water before offering it to Jensen.
He drained half the liquid before handing it back.
“I’d ask what’s going on, but I have a feeling you still won’t tell me.”
“You’re right,” she grinned.
He shook his head and laughed, easing Sailor after her when she turned and continued walking.
There was a clearing further along and she turned to grin at him over her shoulder before knocking her heels into Miska’s side and took off at a gallop.
“Oh hell no,” he grinned, laughing out loud as he pushed Sailor into a run after her.
They let the horses rest after their run, joking and laughing as they passed the bottle of water between them and Tareena leaned back, arms crossed behind her head and stretched her back out over the cantle of the saddle and over Miska’s haunches.
Jensen laughed at her. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he grinned, eyeing the way her back was bowed over the swell of the back of the saddle, legs still straight down on the sides of the horse.
“Are you kidding me? It feels awesome, been a long time since I’ve been riding. Feels good to work all these muscles,” she grinned, body rocking with the up down movement of the gelding’s hips.
He nodded, slipping his toes out of the stirrups to let his legs dangle as the horses continued walking. There was a pleasant ache and slow burn in his legs and arms. Working and stretching muscles during their ride that he normally didn’t use. He might be sore later, but it was the good kind of sore. The kind that made you want to just lie in bed and relax, instead of groaning in pain and popping aspirin.
Another half hour later and Tareena turned them up a dirt path, small log cabin nestled next to a lake. Lean-to barn and rough wood fence off to the side. Soft golden glow of lights already burning in the house.
He shot her a look, smiling when she grinned at him and swung her leg over, sliding down off the saddle.
“Come on,” she grinned, “Help me get these guys set up for tonight, I’m starving.”
Chapter Notes:
Marlo Miranda is actually the name of my high school auto teacher, that man is one of my best friends EVER, I love him like family and still keep in contact with him even though he moved 500 miles away
The three horses are all based off REAL horses, three of my boys that I used to work with
Sailor (Smooth Sailing)...who is who I learned to ride on is a black Thoroughbred/Trakehner mix and is an absolute gentleman and sweetheart
Glide (Electric Glide) is a bay Thoroughbred, these pictures are from when he was about a year old, he was sold to the same people that own his sire (father) and is now racing
and Mikey (Miska) who is my BOY, out of all the horses I helped raise/train he is my favorite, he is a bay Thoroughbred/Friesian cross...these pictures were taken sometime when he was 1-2 yrs old
now for anyone who doesn't know about riding...
this is an english (more specifically a dressage) saddle:
this, is a western saddle:
as you can see very different. I have NOTHING against western riding, I would LOVE to learn how someday and in no way do I mean to belittle the training or effort it takes to ride western, but I personally learned how to ride Dressage, that is what I was taught, and I've been told by more than one person that if you can ride dressage, you can ride anything.
Now in case you don't know what dressage is, and don't feel bad, a lot of people don't, here are two vids on youtube of Olympic level riders. Now obviously I was never and will never be at this level, the riders and horses in these videos have been training practically every day of their entire lives to get to where they are. Also, most tests (the competition) are NOT ridden to music. But high levels, such as the Olympics, do have "Freestyle" which is where you write your own test set to music. Both these videos are of Freestyle tests. I hope you'll watch them, they really are art on horseback. I get shivers just watching them.
Anky Van Grunsven riding Keltec Salinero
Andreas Helgstrand riding Blue Hors Matine
as you can tell, horses are a passion of mine ;)
Previous: Chapter Eight | Next: Chapter Ten