8 comments/ 15222 views/ 22 favorites Sometimes You Gotta Run Away By: GingerM This story was written as a gift for a friend, and is used by permission. At the time of this story, Penny & other characters are all 19 or older. It was two am, and the rain was pelting down. It was, in fact, a dark and stormy night, though the sodden figure on the side of the I-5 wouldn't have cared one way or the other about the cliché. There was little traffic going by, mostly big rigs that roared past with lordly disdain for the soaked hitch-hiker. One had passed a few moments ago, but there was no tell-tale glow of light behind the crest of the road to indicate yet another approaching car, and so the figure dropped a listless thumb and resumed plodding along the highway. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care. At the moment, all Penny was interested in was getting a ride, and hopefully dry, or at least a meal somewhere along the road. Still, in one way it was worth it. She was not going back to the Cosmic Cafe ever again, and Robert the Asshole could go fuck himself. The young horse-girl's breath steamed in the cool, damp night air, but her mind was elsewhere, going over the events which had brought her to this point. The Cosmic Cafe had seemed like an ideal job at first, while she finished school and tried to get her foot in the door in Hollywood. But little alarm bells had gone off in the back of her mind when she first met the manager, Robert. He was a short, scruffy hyena 'morph - well, pretty much all hyenas were scruffy, really, but he was scruffy even by their standards. He'd promised her a good basic rate, above minimum wage, actually; training, though she was pretty sure she could figure out being a barista on her own; uniform - well, apron with the cafe's logo, really - provided, and overtime if things were really busy. She wasn't sure if that was a leer or just the way his muzzle set naturally, but she'd felt as though she needed a shower after. The reality had proved to be otherwise. While meeting new customers and greeting the regulars was one of things she did enjoy, especially the occasions when a casting director or modelling agent came in, the rest of the job sucked, big time. Her co-workers weren't too bad, but she felt nervous around Fred and George, two redheaded lion 'moprs who had a mischievous sense of humour. They weren't brothers, though they could have been, and certainly acted like it, and as if she were their little sister. Still, the fact they were predators kept her on edge, though it certainly made other aspects of work easier. At least when they were around Robert was merely a creepy presence in the back. He managed to impose himself in other ways, though. First, it had turned out that 'uniform provided' meant Robert billed her weekly for uniform rental. Next, it appeared that because she was new, she was given broken shifts, not straight shifts. This meant that as she didn't work a straight eight hours on any given day, she was a part-time employee and though she got the wage she'd been promised, she didn't get benefits. No health insurance, no vacation credit, nothing. It also meant - because Robert was very careful to walk the thin edge of the law on this - that working 2 four-hour shifts per day as he usually required her to do did not earn her overtime. Lastly, when Fred and George weren't around, he made suggestive remarks, or upbraided her for faults, real and imagined. When she pointed out to him, her third week there, that he had promised training but hadn't yet delivered, he scowled and went back into his office. The next day she found out her shifts for the next week had been cancelled, and she was booked to attend a 3-day food services course. "You won't be getting any shift time during those days, so I can't pay you," he'd said, then leered, "unless you wanna... make it worth my while." Affronted but needing the job, Penny had bit her lip. Fortunately, her bills were paid, but it meant she'd have to put off some photo sessions she'd been hoping to book. There was worse to come, though. When she arrived at the school, she found that while she had indeed been booked, her tuition for the course hadn't been paid. Apparently, Robert didn't consider paying for training necessary; booking her off shifts in order to take the training was a sufficiently magnanimous act on his part. She was lucky; she had just enough saved to be able to pay the tuition for the course. When she returned to the cafe three days later, the proud possessor (and she was proud, darn it; she'd worked hard on the tests and it hadn't been as easy as she'd thought it would be) of her food services certificate, Robert had demanded her tuition receipt. "I have to report it," he said, but she balked and dug in her heels. "You can have a copy of the certificate," she replied - fair enough, since the certificate identified that she was taking the course as an employee of Cosmic Cafe. "But not the receipt. And thanks; you never mentioned that I had to pay for the course." "You never asked," he'd replied, and apparently considered that sufficient. She'd bitten her tongue hard to keep from saying something that would get her fired; she needed the job more than ever, in order to make back up her meagre savings and meet her bills. A growing hum and increasing glow behind her broke her reverie and warned her. The glow exploded suddenly into brilliance as whatever it was crested the ridge. It roared past her, soaking her afresh, but the brake lights suddenly came on and the engine note changed, revving high as the driver dropped it through the gears with a fine disregard for his transmission, and screeched to a halt a hundred yards ahead of her. She broke into a run. "Hey, baby, need a lift?" the driver asked, and she flicked rain-plastered hair back from her eyes as she peered in. A male wolf 'morph sat behind the wheel of the SUV, his tongue lolling from his muzzle as he eyed her. Her soaked t-shirt clung to her curves, outlining her breasts; and her nipples, erect with cold, pushed the soaked cotton out in stark relief. Her skirt was now wringing wet, of course, and clung to her thighs. "Hell of a night to be walking, sweet thing," he added, leering appreciatively at her as she climbed in. "Yeah," she replied, clamping down on the automatic "No shit, Sherlock" that had leaped to the forefront of her brain. Dumb as a post the wolf might be, but even if he only gave her ten miles of ride, it was ten miles out of the weather. "Thanks; I've been walking for hours," she added, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn't the most sincere smile she'd ever worn, but it did the trick. He tromped on the gas and roared back onto the highway. "Goin' anyplace particular?" he asked as he shifted over to the innermost lane and settled at a steady 85. Penny wondered if this was the best idea; she wasn't opposed to speeding in general, but 25 over the limit at night in driving rain struck her as extra reckless. "Sacramento, sort of," she answered. "Hey, not to be a pain, but you got a towel or a blanket or something?" "Sure thing," he answered, reaching back with a paw to fumble behind the passenger seat. A moment later he'd fished out a towel that smelled rather strongly of sweat. "That's my gym towel," he informed her, as if her nose hadn't detected the strong lupine musk. "Sorry, I wasn't planning on pickin' up stranded girls." She nodded her thanks in the soft gloom of the interior and dried her hair as best she could, then patted her clothes... well, not dry; "less soaked" was more accurate. A hand came to rest on her thigh and she froze for a moment, then relaxed again. "Hang on a moment," she answered as she scrubbed the towel through her hair again, then at the jerk of his head, tossed the towel behind the seat. "Payment, hun?" she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Gas, grass or ass, baby," he replied. "Though I'll let you off with a blow job since I don't wanna get out and fuck in that," he added generously. Whee, she thought. Mr. Considerate in person. Still... "Grass, huh?" She worked a hand into the small pocket in her skirt's waistband, hoping it hadn't been soaked through... and it appeared it hadn't. She pulled out a small bag. "Last joint," she said. "Shares okay?" "Sure," he acquiesced, and she lit it, taking a deep, lung-filling hit, and passed it to him. Fragrant smoke wreathed around her as she leaned back, eyes closed... Her boss, she had soon realized, was a black-hearted scoundrel for whom no trick was too low if it saved a penny. He complied with the law - just barely - but would not do one iota more than that absolute minimum required when it came to his employees. His premises fared slightly better; he was savvy enough to realize his cafe had to look smart and clean in order to attract the clientele he wanted. But his employees appeared to be disposable things, to judge by his attitude toward them. Fred and George left eventually, to be replaced by a gorgeous, soft-eyed giraffe-girl who towered over Penny and Robert both, and a quiet little bunny-girl with long, silky-soft cream fur. Robert practically licked his chops at the prospect of three pretty girls to serve his customers, and certainly the customers didn't mind. But Celeste, the giraffe, and Marie-Claire, the rabbit, didn't last; Robert creeped them as well, and one afternoon as she came in, Penny saw Marie-Claire escorting a weeping Celeste out, and Robert looking guilty. "They couldn't hack it, Penny babe," he explained airily as he served a customer. "But it does leave me short-handed, so grab your apron, okay, sweetheart?" After they'd left, Robert tried to get new staff in, but without success. Word seemed to be getting around in the food services community and no-one wanted a position there. Robert had to make her full-time simply because he needed her eight hours straight, and reluctantly set her up with the benefits California law said she must receive. She wound up with more actual free time, because he adamantly refused to pay her overtime, and after the first two times her shift had run an hour over, she'd gone to the labour relations board to complain. Grumbling, he'd paid up the overtime due, but after that insisted she leave at the stroke of the end of her shift. Not before, though; not by so much as thirty seconds; he was determined to wring every working minute out of her he could in those eight hours. Her schoolwork suffered, of course; eight hours of being the only barista each day, each 40-hours a week, was a brutal, killing pace. The only other good thing about it was that Robert didn't come in on Saturdays and Sundays; she had the cafe to herself. She in turn refused to go anywhere near the CC on Mondays and Tuesdays - her 'weekend', because Robert would try to inveigle her into covering for him "just for a moment, while I go get some smokes." She'd wound up giving him four free hours that way, and made another trip down to the labour relations board. The normally cheerful, sunny-mannered Penny was gone; replaced by a tired, depressed Penny who didn't - couldn't - care, about anything. She was on the verge of failing out of her classes and she just wanted to sleep when she got home each day. Now, months later, Penny realized that she ought to have walked out with Celeste and Marie-Claire. Robert's innuendos and groping were constant; he mocked her looks and her presumed sexual habits and tastes when she fended him off, or - and she wasn't sure which was worse - he tried calling her by pet names and endearments. And today had been the final straw. She'd just finished clearing tables and returned to the wash-up when Robert had reached up under her skirt - he'd forbidden her to wear her beloved Tripps - and crudely yanked her panties aside. Her already-frayed temper had snapped. "Fuck you, asshole!" she'd shouted, the words cracking through the coffee bar. The patrons had looked up involuntarily, then away, some flinching when Penny slammed a tray of dirty mugs down so hard that four of them fell off to crash and splinter on the tiled floor. "You watch your mouth, Penny! The customers aren't paying good money to hear that kind of filth from you!" came the hyena's hot-tempered retort. "And your temper just cost you those four mugs offa your paycheck, too!" She'd torn off the apron bearing the "Cosmic Cafe" logo and thrown it down on the overturned tray and shattered mugs. Robert's muzzle drew back, wrinkling in the bared-fang grimace of his feral ancestors, warning off other scavengers, and Penny's tail flicked rapidly, nervously. But her anger and wounded pride wouldn't let her back down, despite her equine instincts prompting her to give way. Instead she made use of her height and glared down at him. "Oh, but they're paying to see you grabbing my ass, right?!" she shot back, eyes flashing. "They're paying to see you treating me like a slut, huh?! 'Cause that's not offensive, not a bit!" Robert drew himself up, though still couldn't match Penny's height. "You take that back, girl, or I'll sue the shi... daylights out of ya!" he snarled. Penny had simply snorted and stepped over the pottery shards scattered over the floor, heading toward the door. "Fuck you I said and fuck you I meant," she replied. "Clean up your own damn mess and good luck finding someone else who'll put up with your shit!" So saying, the enraged Arabian horse-girl flung open the door. She'd walked and walked and walked, hardly aware of where she was going, while she turned over every injustice, every slight, every sexual advance she'd suffered while working there. Tomorrow, she decided, she was going to go down to the labour relations board – again – and formally complain about everything that had happened. She'd call the city health inspector, too; she didn't think anything would come of it, but the harassment he'd suffer would be worth it. It wasn't until her mind had run down that she'd found herself a considerable distance from home and in a completely unfamiliar part of town. Where am I? had flitted through her mind, followed by Who cares? She needed out, she needed to get away, now. She'd called a couple of friends, but no-one was answering, not even Arc. The short, feisty lioness 'morph was probably the closest thing to a confidante she had, but her phone was off and her voice mail was full. So much for someone to talk to. She stared at the freeway entrance, not really seeing it, nor the sign reading "I5 North". She needed to get away... and she remembered she had a cousin or something – she was fuzzy on the exact details – who lived up near Sacramento somewhere... northern Cali, anyway... The change in motion of the car startled her; the wolf was pulling over. "This is it, baby," he said, and she blinked, then looked at her watch. Somehow she'd fallen asleep; it was nearly five... and the dim glow in the east confirmed it. He laughed at her befuddled expression. "Sacramento?" he prompted her, and her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh, hey, great." Her clothes were still slightly damp, but she felt much better than when he'd stopped to pick her up. "Um, thanks again," she said, fumbling with the door handle. "I really appreciate it." "Ah, no biggie. Besides, you conked out after that first hit, so I got pretty much the whole spliff to myself. Hey, take care, hey?" She nodded, stepping back as he pulled back onto the highway, his tires throwing a brief rooster-tail of gravel, and then she looked around. The nameless wolf had dropped her just past the exit ramp, and she could see a Shell station; it looked like one that catered to truckers, for it had a good-sized restaurant attached to it, and there were several rigs parked beside it. She ran her hands through her hair, fluffing up the dark, silky mop, then checked her pockets. Cell phone, check. ATM card, not that it would do her much good right now, her account being pretty much empty... and likely to stay that way now, since she was pretty sure she'd have to pry her final pay out of Robert with a crowbar. And a five-dollar bill. Well, she could get coffee and a muffin, which would at least quiet her stomach a bit. But she had no idea, really, of where to go from here. All she knew was her cousin (or whatever) was around this end of the state, and either worked on, owned or managed an orchard or dairy farm or ranch or something. She wasn't even sure of her cousin's name; she thought it was Rhianna or something, like the singer. Food first, she decided. Then figure out what next. The warm, homey smells of cooking assaulted her as she stepped in. There was a mixed crowd of 'morphs in this morning; wolves, foxes, a couple of deer, but they all seemed the same in at least one respect – warm flannel shirts and Teamsters Union ball caps, which formed some sort of unofficial uniform. Most of them were concentrating on breakfast – or lunch, or supper, whichever it was. Suddenly a mere coffee and muffin seemed woefully inadequate. "Hey, li'l filly, yer blockin' traffic," came a deep voice from behind her, and she jumped. A tall stallion anthro – Clydesdale, from the heavy, muscular build and markings – loomed over her. She began to step aside, but he gestured toward a booth. "G'wan, pull up a pew," he said. He looked knowingly at her flustered expression. "Uh, I was just -" she started, but he cut her off. "S'okay, darlin' – my treat," he rumbled, his voice seeming to come from somewhere around his knees. He gave her a gentle push with a hand like the scoop of a power shovel, and somehow she found herself sitting in the booth. "Tell you what – I'll buy you breakfast 'n' you kin be a pretty face for me to enjoy lookin' at, and mebbe tell me why a li'l filly like you's on the road with nary a nickel?" She nodded agreement, and the stallion slid into the booth, across from her. He introduced himself as Earl, then waved the waitress, a petite squirrel-girl, over. "Sugar-pie, my friend here'll have the eggs 'n' ham, with toast, OJ and coffee... and a cherry danish to go." The waitress grinned, clearly used to him, then cocked her head expectantly. "I'll start with a Texas pancake stack, three sunny-side up, side of toast, grits 'n' ham, and two coffees the way I like 'em," he added, then gave her rump a playful swat as she left. Somehow, Penny found Earl remarkably easy to talk to. He nodded while she recounted her journey so far, and his brown eyes smiled at her frequently over the rim of his coffee cup. She finished with her intention to find her cousin and her concerns that she had very little idea where to start. Earl nodded sympathetically, then began methodically chewing a toothpick. "I wonder," he said at length, "I wonder if... see, thing is, darlin', you're an uma, and your kind ain't common 'round these parts. 'Leastways, not that I've seen. But there's this one up Napa Valley way, runs a farm or something, I think. Now I gotta delivery over that way, then I'm heading on to Portland. I c'n give ya a ride, you help me unload when we get there, 'kay? And that close, you should be able to ask around, maybe find out if that's yer cousin?" Penny nodded, her eyes suspiciously moist. Her experience with Robert had pretty much soured her on men, and the wolf who'd given her a lift through the night... well, he hadn't done anything because she'd had the joint to give him, but if she hadn't... yet here was Earl who'd bought her breakfast and was willing to give her a lift to Napa Valley... "Why?" she asked. It could have sounded curt, or cynical or any one of a dozen other things, but she was honestly curious, and he heard the note of curiosity in her voice. "Heck, I toldja... a pretty girl t'keep me company for breakfast, 'n' on to Napa? You're a good kid, too. Ya had a bad go, but yer not bad at heart. Besides, 'taint always safe, hitchin', so I figger if'n I give ya a ride, you'll be close enough t'find yer cousin, prob'ly. Aaand... the missus'd slap me around if'n I didn't." He grinned and tossed down the last of his coffee. "Grab yer lunch there," he nodded at the bagged danish, "and let's hit the road before the rest of these yahoos." Genial mutters of abuse answered him as he ushered her out the door. Sometimes You Gotta Run Away Earl had proved as good as his word; his delivery was in Napa itself, and she'd enjoyed talking with him on the road. It hadn't taken them long to unload, either, and when they'd finished, he'd stood her to another coffee at the cafe across the street. "So long, Penny-girl," he'd said as he finished his coffee and tossed a ten-spot on the counter. "You keep your head together 'n' you'll do alright." The matronly vixen behind the counter, whose name tag read "Ethel", had shaken her head as he clopped out the door and swung himself up into the cab of his rig. "That Earl," she'd murmured, a half-smile on her face. "Y'want that warmed up, hon?" she'd asked Penny, who'd nodded assent, then seized the opportunity offered to ask about an uma who ran or operated some kind of farm in the area. "Sure," she'd replied. "There's Rhiannon; she's got a stud farm up Highway 29, near Oakville, I think." She'd examined Penny's face searchingly. "Your cousin, you said?" Ethel had walked her to the door. "Now, you head up the road thataway," she'd pointed, "then take the next left. That'll take you to the highway, and you go north. Not a lot of traffic this time of day, but you might be able to catch a lift 'round noon. Your cousin's place is right off the highway; you can't miss it." Penny had thanked her and set off, tired from lack of sleep, but feeling pretty good on the whole. Ethel was right; there was very little traffic on the highway once she got out of town. Still, it was a warm, sunny day, and she found the walk enjoyable. She wasn't sure how exactly to introduce herself to her cousin and passed the time playing out various scenarios in her head while her long legs devoured the dusty miles. Then there was the pleasant pastime of composing some choice comments to deliver to Robert. She was going to get the money he owed her, she was determined on that. She should call the college, though, and let them know she wasn't going to make her classes for a few days, see if that was going to be a problem. And she'd have to try Arc again; she really hoped the lioness would let her crash at her for a bit, because it was a safe bet she'd have to end her lease and find another place. And another job... A sharp honk! snapped her out of her reverie, followed by a drawling "Hey, y'all need a ride?", and she turned to see who had accosted her. A beat-up green Ford pickup was rolling along at a walking pace, driven by an Appaloosa umamusume. Her green eyes narrowed a bit as she looked back at Penny, registering her dappled markings and the fact that she too was an umamusume. "You're not from 'round here, are y'all?" she asked, and Penny shook her head. "Los Angeles," she replied as she trotted across the road and swung into the pickup's cab. "I kind of, well, I needed a change of pace." The Appaloosa nodded. "Time t' figure stuff out, hm? That's a good idea. Everyone needs t' stop 'n look at themselves a bit ev'ry now an' then." Her accent was soft, reminiscent of the South. "Ah won't ask where you're goin', sugar," she added with a chuckle, shifting to a higher gear. "Just y'all seem a bit short on the basics for hittin' th' road, though." She cocked her head, her ears swivelling in the holes through her jauntily-perched blue Stetson. Penny nodded, leaning back against the well-worn seat, closing her eyes for a moment. "Yeah, I know... spent most of the night getting soaked through," she said reflectively. "But if you're going as far as Oakville, I should be okay. I'm hoping to find my cousin's place there." "Um... not quite all the way, but Ah c'n drop y'all off about a mile short." She leaned forward, making her shirt ride up under full breasts, rummaging in a box on the floor, then fished out a Harvest Crunch bar. "If'n you need a bite, help yourself," she said, passing it to the Arabian horse-girl. "Cain't have mah passenger passin' out for hunger, now." "Thanks," Penny replied, tucking it in her skirt's small pocket. "I, um, got a meal and a lift from a guy at the truck stop earlier," she added. She wasn't exactly sure why, but something about her current benefactor made her feel comfortable. "Well, then, keep it for later, hon," she replied. "We're nearly there," she added as they passed a sign reading 'Oakville – 1 mile'. "I'm turning off just up here, 'bout half a mile from town; you c'n hoof it into town from there, Ah think." She slowed for a curve, then glanced at Penny. "What's your cousin's name, anyway? Ah might be able t' give you an address?" "Uh, Rhiannon, or something like that – I'm not really sure. I've never met her before, you see," Penny answered. The pickup slowed abruptly. "Rhiannon?!" the Appaloosa asked, green eyes going wide. She pulled over, then turned to look at Penny. "What... what's your name, hon?" "Penny," she replied, and things came together suddenly. "You're her, I mean, you!" she exclaimed, ears flicking back and disarranging her green-streaked hair. "You're my cousin?!" "Penny... Starr, right?!" Rhiannon asked, a huge smile breaking over her chestnut face. Impulsively she leaned over and threw her arms around the Arabian teen in a hug. "God, hon, Ah'm right glad t' meet'cha!" The truck lurched as her foot slipped off the brake pedal, and she snatched at the steering wheel. "Let me get us home first, and then y'all have to tell me everything!" Home wasn't far; a few hundred more yards to the drive. A sign read "Wildwood Farm – Boarding and Stud Services – Rhiannon, Prop.", and past that, a dusty gravel road wound about a quarter-mile past that to an old, comfortable-looking farmhouse. Two more pickups were parked in front, as well as a horse trailer. The drive continued around the house and Penny just made out a barn or stable which seemed to be down a gentle slope before Rhiannon swung the truck around to park. "C'mon in, make yourself to home, Penny hon," she welcomed her as they entered. The interior was cool though daylight poured in through several large windows. Her cousin looked around, blue eyes drinking in everything. The house was... relaxed, she felt. It felt like the house welcomed guests, making them family, and she could feel the tension easing from her muscles. "Coffee?" Rhiannon asked, ushering her into the kitchen. This was another comfortable room, but warmer-feeling. A long padded bench ran across the end and down one wall, liberally provided with squashy cushions and providing seating for the large kitchen table. Several chairs, no two alike, were clustered around the other two sides. The table was worn but well-scrubbed. The Appaloosa guided her cousin to the bench, then turned toward the stove, where a camp coffeepot stood. Penny leaned back against the cushions, watching her hostess's preparations. For some reason she'd always imagined her cousin as... well, not this earthy, down-home girl, complete to gingham shirt knotted up under a generous bosom, well-worn jeans riding low on her hips, and dusty cowboy boots. With the navy-blue Stetson, complete to a silver horseshoe charm, she ought to be a caricature, but she wasn't. She's... she's herself, Penny thought. She doesn't care what anyone else thinks, she's happy with herself... it was curiously hard to follow that train of thought; her mind was drifting... "Just about ready," Rhiannon said as she grabbed the now-steaming coffeepot, the rich brown liquid bubbling in the clear knob as it made little popping, perking noises. The aroma of good coffee drifted from the spout as she poured. She set the pot back down and took the cups, turning back toward the table. "Do y'all take -" then chuckled softly. Lulled by the padding and cushions, her cousin had fallen fast asleep. *** *** *** Penny was disoriented when she woke up. She remembered her cousin's kitchen... but this wasn't a kitchen. She sat up and looked around. She was in a neat little bedroom – from the angled ceiling, it was upstairs, tucked cozily under the roof – decorated in warm earth tones. She also realized she was naked and for a moment she panicked. Penny was very private about her body; despite Robert's crude, lustful groping, she was not at all convinced she was attractive. Nor did she want anyone to discover her secret; the thing that made her a freak. She knew she was a freak; her father had made that clear often enough. Keeping the covers pulled over her lap, she cast about. Her clothes were definitely gone, but on the dark-stained chest, she saw her ATM card, a ten-dollar bill, keys and cell phone. A warm-looking pink housecoat lay next to them atop a fluffy towel, and on top of that was a note which read "Took your things to the laundry. Supper's at five, but if you sleep late, help yourself. Your things'll be outside the door when they're done." From the dimness at the windows, it was well into the evening, but she was still surprised when she checked her cell phone; according to that, it was just before midnight. No call from Arc, either, she noted. Well, she could try again later. At the moment, Penny was more concerned about the question of her clothes... and something to eat. She sniffed – shower first, she decided. Wrapping the housecoat about her and grabbing the towel, the dappled Arabian horse-girl opened the bedroom door. No clothes awaited her. Well, this late in the night, she wasn't likely to meet anyone else up. The door gave onto a landing, where the stairs descended to the main floor. She looked at the doors along the wall, wondering which one was the bathroom. One of them had a double light switch beside it which seemed a good indicator, though. She padded toward it on bare feet, conscious that this was a house full of people who did hard, sweaty work every day and who would probably not appreciate being woken up. A floorboard creaked under her foot and she paused, catching her breath, then passed on. She paused again at the door, head cocked, ears swivelling as soft, muffled thumps came from the direction of the farthest door. A voice, too soft and too indistinct to make out the words. Not everyone's asleep, I guess. In the bathroom, she let the housecoat fall from her shoulders and faced the counter. A familiar face looked back at her – dappled silvery-grey, shading to a darker grey around her mouth and down her chin. She brushed her mussed, green-streaked hair back and stared at the white star-shaped blaze in the centre of her forehead. Bracing herself on the counter, she assessed herself. The silvery-grey coat of fine horsehair covered her all over, again shading to white over her breasts and down her taut belly, then once again growing darker at her groin. A frown creased her forehead as she considered. My groin. My freakishness. The most obvious manifestation of her freakishness hung there, the same dark grey as the smooth mound from which it grew; a penis sprouting from her crotch where it had no business being. Sighing, she lifted it, feeling how the shaft merged smoothly with her mons, then the cleft of her vulva behind it. Couldn't be a boy or a girl, no... stuck somewhere in between, she thought, and shivered. Unbidden memories rose to the surface; her father hitting her, kicking her, calling her names... She turned her back on her reflection and started the shower running. The hot water and steam helped her to clear her mind, chase away the memories... and she could indulge herself, too, enjoy a guilty pleasure. Her fingers curled around the dangling grey shaft, caressing it softly, urging herself on... For several minutes she just stood under the hot needle spray, legs parted, straddling the drain, her fist moving faster and faster as she swelled and grew, the dark flesh rising up until her shaft jutted out, rampantly erect, a good foot and a half long, and she was jacking herself furiously while it pulsed and throbbed in her grip... and then the moment, the guilty, wonderful moment, when her glans flared, and with short, sharp breaths, she plunged her fingers into her vulva. The water turned suddenly cool and the abrupt temperature change kicked her over the edge. Pleasure spasmed through her and she flung her head back, turning her face up to the cool spray, her nipples hard, stiff pegs under the coolness while her hips jerked and bucked and she shuddered in a gasping nova of release. Heart pounding in her chest, she leaned against the shower stall wall while the tide within her ebbed, then heaved a sigh of relief. Little aftershocks coursed through her as she aimed the shower head at the wall to wash the sticky mess she'd made down the drain. Still feeling the pleasant post-orgasmic buzz, she washed off, acutely aware of the water pattering on her skin, the scent of the soap, the sensual texture of her coat under her fingers, then turned it off and stepped out to dry off. The towel was just as much a tactile pleasure, the terrycloth soft and seductive against her skin and in the luxurious mop of her hair... feeling much better, she donned the housecoat again and wound the towel in a turban around her damp hair. She caught sight of herself, misty and indistinct in the fogged mirror, and smiled, suddenly feeling very warm and feminine. Penny stole carefully downstairs; after the tension-relieving jilling session in the shower, she felt distinctly ravenous. A quick survey of the pantry and fridge resulted in her finding all the necessary ingredients for a dagwood of magnificent proportions, as well as a tall, cold glass of milk. She padded to the kitchen table, setting down her plunder, and settled on the bench where she'd fallen asleep on arrival. A chair, hooked with one long, graceful leg, provided a suitable footrest while she settled down to enjoy her midnight meal. A creaking step caught her attention, and her ears swivelled forward as she looked up. Rhiannon paused at the entrance to the kitchen, a warm, slow smile spreading over her face. The Appaloosa was similarly attired, though without a towel-turban; her housecoat was just as fluffy, but in a powder-blue which went well with the rich chestnut of her coat. The slender but well-muscled arms emerging from the housecoat's sleeves were a pale, pale beige, as were her legs, at least up as far as the knee-length house-coat let Penny see. She seemed to fill the housecoat rather better – or else it was a bit small; either way, a not-inconsiderable amount of chestnut cleavage was on display. "Feelin' a bit better now, hon?" she asked as she crossed to the fridge, and Penny nodded. "Good," Rhiannon went on, pouring herself a glass of milk. "Don't worry 'bout gettin' up with the rest of the gang. Ah'll leave some fixin's warmin' on the stove; y'all come down when you like in th' morning." She strolled back toward the front hall, her silky auburn tail swishing gently behind her under the hem of her housecoat, and gave Penny a roguish smile over her shoulder. "Ah jus' needed a little something," she said, licking a milk moustache from her chocolate-dark lips. "G'night, hon," and Penny heard her footsteps on the well-worn stairs. She surveyed the scant remnants on her plate, then drained the last drops in her glass. Despite having slept nearly twelve hours, bed seemed like a very good idea again, so she cleared her dishes into the sink, then followed her cousin's example. *** *** *** She woke again to sunlight streaming through a small gap in the curtains. The sun's motion, rising in the sky, had carried it to the point that the sunbeam had come to rest on Penny's face, and the warmth beating on her eyelids brought her to wakefulness. She stretched luxuriously under the covers, feeling marvellously alive. Somehow this time, it wasn't as much a concern, her nakedness, and she stood up, turning to feel the sun's warmth against her coat. This time, when she checked, her clothes were there, folded neatly and sitting on the floor. There was also a red flannel 'lumberjack' shirt and a pair of jeans under them. She smiled happily; her cousin, it seemed, was absolutely determined to make her feel at home, and it was working. On impulse, she decided to don the jeans and work shirt, knotting it as she'd seen Rhia do, then tugged her clunky boots on. Thus attired, she wandered downstairs. Once again, the place seemed deserted, though on looking at the kitchen clock it was evident why, as the hands stood at 9:30. Everyone would be out and about, working at the many chores needed to keep the farm running. As Rhiannon had promised, there was a covered frying pan from which enticing smells emerged; lifting the lid revealed the source of those smells to be thick slices of French toast and rashers of bacon. Quick foraging in the fridge provided her with a glass of orange juice – from the taste, fresh-squeezed, not commercially packaged – and she made the toast and bacon into a sandwich. She wasn't ravenously hungry as she had been last night, but she didn't waste any time putting her breakfast away, either. She gazed out the kitchen window as she washed her fingers off, feeling strangely peaceful. She was sure there was a lot of work involved in keeping something like Wildwood running, but her cousin didn't have that same air of being rushed, in a hurry, fighting the clock that so many of her customers at the cafe had radiated. Los Angeles had a... frenetic feeling to it. Wildwood, though, felt comfortable, relaxed. People might work fast here, but they weren't rushed. While she mused, her gaze roved over the view. The barn she'd caught a glimpse on arriving yesterday was about fifty yards behind the house, it appeared. The drive was gravelled around to it, but the dusty road heading off toward the fields was dirt. Fences outlined pasturage and paddocks, and she could see several feral horses wandering about in one, and a couple of figures sitting on the fence, watching them. A small dust-cloud moved slowly against the blue-green hills in the distance, and Penny suddenly realized that was a truck, and the true size of the farm. The incredibly deep-blue sky beckoned and she suddenly wanted to explore it, very much. She wandered outside, and as the mid-morning sun hit, she realized that cowboy hats weren't necessarily an affectation. She was used to the muting effect of Los Angeles' smog, and she squinted against the undiluted brilliance assaulting her eyes. One hand shading her brow, she strode toward the barn, breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped into shadow. A rich medley of scents filled her nose – old well-worn wood, good clean earth, fresh timothy hay, horses. As her eyes adjusted again, she looked around, taking in the bits of tack hung up on beams and walls. There was a pile of burlap sacks, fat and bulging with feed; several galvanized buckets, pitchforks, shovels... Penny felt as though she'd stepped into a completely new world, one she'd never known. There were stalls, over the doors of which several horses looked around, their eyes warm and friendly. A low susurration of horsey noises accompanied the scents; soft nickering, snorting, the occasional clop of a hoof muffled by hay on the floorboards. She paused by one stall, reading the nameplate on the door – 'Erin' – and she started a bit as Erin's velvety muzzle brushed against her arm, hoping for a treat. "Sorry," Penny murmured, scratching the mare behind an ear – so like her own, though larger, she thought – by way of making up for her lamentable lack of treats for deserving horses. It was odd, yet oddly right, she reflected. These were also her cousins, in a way; their blood, in part, ran in her veins as well. Idly she strolled along the line of stalls, until there suddenly wasn't a stall on this side. The barn tee'd at this point, a second part extending off. In a mood to explore, Penny turned the corner and stopped abruptly. The tee opened up into a second room, flooded with sunlight. A bay mare was tethered to a free-standing post in the centre of the room, and... Penny blinked, unable to credit what seemed to be happening... No, her eyes weren't lying to her; that was her cousin – the chestnut-and-cream Appaloosa markings were unmistakable, to say nothing of the dark blue Stetson pushed back on her head. But it looked as if she was... she was standing on a mounting step behind the mare, her jeans down around her ankles, her shirt open, half-covering her hypnotically-swaying breasts... and – Penny's eyes dropped as if to confirm yet again what she'd seen the first time – yes, what could only be Rhiannon's penis, thrusting into the mare in a steady, powerful rhythm. Sometimes You Gotta Run Away Penny ducked back around the corner, leaning against the wall. Her heart was racing unaccountably and a jumbled melange of thoughts chased one another through her mind. Rhiannon, her cousin, was like her. Penny had seen too many silicone implants on actresses and models during her time at Cosmic Cafe; she knew Rhiannon's breasts were real. She was undeniably and thoroughly female... except for that black penis, which at that first, shocked glance, certainly seemed as large as her own. Gathering up her nerve, Penny stuck her head around the corner again. She twitched her ears; she could hear faint, wet, squelchy noises now, and a wet slapping sound. The mare was snorting a bit, blowing, hooves shifting on the hay-covered floor... but she certainly didn't seem to mind what was happening. As for her cousin – Penny's sapphire eyes tracked back to Rhiannon – she definitely looked like she was enjoying herself. Strong white fingers dug into the mare's rump, and her auburn tail flicked rapidly from side to side. Her head was tilted back, a smile of indecently lustful pleasure curving her generous mouth up at the corners. As Penny watched, she shifted one leg a bit, and the Arabian horse-girl could very clearly see two velvety black testicles swinging freely, making that slapping noise against the mare's rear as Rhiannon hilted herself on each thrust. She was torn between wanting and not wanting to watch, a little voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe it could be her behind the mare, enjoying herself. Unconsciously her hand strayed to her crotch, cupping herself. She doesn't care, Penny thought again, echoing her observation of yesterday. The young Arabian uma had always considered herself self-sufficient, strong and independent, but watching her cousin, she wondered if she had the nerve to simply do something like this, with no hint of shame or apology? She wasn't sure about herself but about her cousin, there was no doubt. Someone could come along right now and she'd just toss them a smile and keep right on fucking the mare. Penny ground her hand harder against herself, her eyes avidly drinking in the scene. Her cousin must have been at it for a while, though, because as Penny watched, Rhiannon gave a sudden, convulsive thrust, her hips rocking sharply, and the deep, satisfied hissing breath of pleasure as the Appaloosa's body shuddered in a way Penny was only too familiar with in herself; exactly the same way she'd shuddered in the shower stall last night. She could all-too-vividly imagine what was happening inside the mare's vagina; the thick jets of semen that must be erupting from her cousin's glistening black equine member with each spasmodic thrust of her chestnut hips. She's cumming...! Penny thought distantly, as if some stranger was operating her brain. Her cousin had stamina, though; she kept at it, thighs and buttocks flexing in an undeniable, unmistakable mating rhythm for two or three minutes, at length withdrawing, stepping down off the box, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on her chestnut coat. Utterly unconcerned about her near-nudity or her softening erection, she patted the bay's rump, then took a cloth and began cleaning herself off while her creamy semen drooled thickly from the mare's dark vulva. Her mind a-whirl, Penny turned to make her way back to the house. She need to stop, to think, figure things out... her cousin was like her; she had a cock, too. But from what Penny could see, she didn't think she was a freak; she didn't feel any kind of need to hide what she was. Preoccupied with these reflections, she brought up short against a wide, warm wall. "Whoa, there, girlie," a deep voice said, and for a moment Penny thought Earl had appeared. She took a step back. The speaker was a tall stallion anthro, with a noble, chiseled equine head atop powerful shoulders. It wasn't Earl, though; the stranger's coat was a pale, pale cream, as close to white as possible without becoming albino. Large, liquid golden eyes – definitely not albino – looked down at her from a height of what must have been at least seven feet. His muzzle wrinkled in a friendly smile as he took in her soft silver dappling. "Dang, if you ain't the prettiest thing I've laid eyes on in some time," he chuckled. Penny got out "Er..." then found herself at a loss for further words. She had been, she thought, immune to male charm, but this was an exception. It didn't hurt that he was bare-chested; in fact, he was wearing only a pair of jeans. Soft, gleaming white tufts of hair adorned his wrists, marking him unmistakably as a drafter. He didn't wear boots, either, she noticed suddenly; his hind feet were hooved like a feral, and again silky 'feathers' of hair swirled around his ankles. He was – no, not handsome, she thought; there was just a bit too much daintiness about him for all his drafter build. He was beautiful, though, like a work of art. Steps sounded behind her, and she turned to see her cousin coming around the corner. "Hey, Amando," she greeted the stallion, then smiled hugely. "Penny, hon!" she half-sang, and wrapped her arms around her. "Glad to see you're up and about, sweetheart," she went on. "Penny, this is Amando, one of my hands here." She stopped between them and planted her hands on her chestnut hips, cocking her head to consider the stallion who towered over her just as he did over Penny. "It's a good thing y'all are so damn sexy," she teased, "'cause Ah purely get tired of tellin' y'all t' put on a shirt, for Pete's sake! Amando, this here's mah cousin Penny, up from Los Angeles to stay a bit." Amando smiled again, showing gleaming teeth, and stuck out his hand. "Glad to meet you, then, Miss Penny," he said, golden eyes twinkling a bit. "I sure do hope you stick around for a while, too." "Makin' eyes at her? And here I thought I wore you out last night," Rhiannon chuckled and gave the stallion's muscular bottom a playful swat. The stallion's face flushed a slight pink and Penny put dots together – the soft thumping must have been coming from Rhiannon's room, and had she...? Rhiannon gave Amando's rear another squeeze. "Anyway, it's 'bout time for a break, Ah figure," she said. "Ah 'magine Jake and Rusty must be on their way back now, too." The group strolled back up to the house together, Rhiannon leading. Penny's eyes followed her cousin, from the gentle sway of her hips rolling with her pace to the silky auburn tail, bound with three plain gold bands, that protruded through a neat button-down flap in the back of her jeans. Penny rather liked the style; most trousers for anthros (and umas) had an elastic-lined tail hole in the seat of the trousers, which made putting them on a nuisance sometimes. Amando slid onto the bench then patted the cushions, his gold eyes smiling an invitation to Penny. Rhiannon filled the coffee pot and put it onto perk, then started cutting up celery and carrots and such, putting together a snack plate. The back door opened to admit a fox anthro, a darkly handsome tod with a white mask around his muzzle, and a tall buck 'morph who had to stoop a bit to let his antlers clear the door frame. "Set yourselves down, boys," Rhiannon called, sliding a full plate onto the table, then turning back to the stove to snag the coffee pot. "And Rusty, just grab those mugs, hmmm?" "Sure thing, Rhia," the tod replied, detouring past the glass-fronted cupboard. His eyes travelled quickly around the table to do a headcount. "Who's the new face, boss?" he enquired, while the buck plopped himself down on Penny's other side. "This is mah cousin Penny, boys," she replied, coming to the table with coffee, sugar and a pitcher of milk. "Hon, these two troublemakers're Jake -" she nodded toward the dapper buck "- and Rusty." The Appaloosa busied herself pouring, and Penny cupped the mug in her hands while she tried to figure her cousin out. The cozy domesticity of the scene warmed her through, but confused her a bit as well. Rhiannon was clearly, indisputably the boss, but somehow she managed to maintain that role without any apparent need to assert herself over her farm hands. Take this break – she was serving them, but certainly wasn't taking a subordinate role. If anything, Penny would call her motherly, except that wasn't right, either. She was... nurturing, that was a better word. She cared, she led, she made people want to work for her. She was also undeniably sexy; Penny could readily sense the smouldering sensuality her cousin radiated with every move, and that too was part of her and how she kept her farm running. Looking at Amando and how his eyes followed Rhiannon made that unmistakably clear. She was less certain how Jake and Rusty fit into the picture; on the face of it, she would have thought a fox and a deer would have been indifferent to her cousin's charm. Clearly, though, that wasn't the case. Was she sleeping – not sleeping, Penny corrected herself; was she having sex with all of them? And if so, how did they feel about her stallion-ness? It seemed Rhiannon's notion of a break was at least half an hour. Amando was first to excuse himself; draining his second mug of coffee, then rising to excuse himself. "See you all at lunch, everyone," he nodded to Rhiannon. Jake and Rusty lingered for a few more minutes and Penny mainly listened, just enjoying being part of the gathering. Eventually, they too both rose, Jake's antlers brushing the ceiling, and headed back out to their work. "See y'all at lunch," Rhiannon called after them, then turned back to her cousin. "Ah'm glad mah boys took such a shine to you, Penny sugar," she said, smiling over the rim of her mug. "I like them," she replied, a bit surprised at herself. "They feel like... a family." "They are," Rhia replied simply. Her green eyes studied Penny. "Ah look after them and they look after me, hon. They're not just hired hands." The dappled horse-girl dropped her gaze to the remnants in her cup. Talk to her, a voice inside said. Tell her, tell her what your work's been like, why you left your family behind... but the words wouldn't come. Something hot and thick seemed to rise up in her throat, choking her, and she couldn't stand it, she had to get up, had to move now...! Her cousin started a bit, laying her ears back as the teen Arabian suddenly bolted from the room, her boots clumping on the stairs, followed by the solid finality of the bedroom door closing rather abruptly echoing down the stairwell. Nothing made sense to Penny... how could her cousin possibly understand? Unbidden memories rose up, of a towering figure looming over her, brutal hands grabbing her roughly, shaking her... a coarse voice flinging foul epithets with spittle flying to splatter on her face. Then more pain, more blows, doing her best to protect herself. That scene had been repeated again and again and again, being called names, called a freak, all too often with the stench of booze on her sire's breath as he cursed and reviled her, until her heart quailed, until all she could do was curl up in the corner. She couldn't tell her cousin; she just couldn't. Her cousin would never understand. Her cousin didn't even know she was a freak – and Penny's thoughts tripped over themselves. If Rhiannon knew... if she knew Penny was like her, would she...? But no, she would understand that, at least... wouldn't she? Unconsciously, Penny curled up on the bed, silent sobs shaking her while she jammed her fists against her mouth, lost in the grip of her childhood. She never heard the door open, nor the footsteps that padded silently toward the bed. But the figure sitting on the bed next to her got her attention. "Shhh... hon, it's okay," Rhia crooned, resting her hand on Penny's shaking shoulder. "Oh, mah poor dear girl..." Perched on the edge of the bed, she leaned forward, sliding her arms around Penny's waist. "Ah'm here, Penny-girl..." She gently lifted the sobbing teen, sliding back to rest against the wall and cradling Penny's head against her bosom. "It's okay, hon, it's okay." "N-not... o-o-kay," Penny got out, gasping on sobs. "N-never... w-will be... o-okay..." her voice trailed off again while she clutched Rhiannon's arms and wept. Rhiannon said nothing further for several minutes; she just rocked her cousin gently, caressing Penny's hair with slow, gentle strokes, crooning softly, wordlessly to the weeping girl. Her cousin's sobs grew softer, less wracking, the hot tears spilling less on the Appaloosa's breast until Penny heaved a shuddering breath, and pulled away, flustered. Rhia took her hand, just holding it while Penny scrubbed at her tear-streaked face. "I should'a known there was more to this than just a youngster runnin' away," she said softly. "You've been in a power of trouble for a while." She scooted a bit closer to Penny and slipped an arm around her shoulder, taking Penny's chin in her free hand, turning the teen's face to hers. "Hon, we're kin. Ah know we jus' met, but you're always welcome here, okay? No matter what's happened, no matter how bad y'all think things are, you're mah cousin 'n' Ah'm yours, and ain't nothin' can change that." She looked intently into Penny's eyes, then leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Now... if'n you feel up to it, tell me as much – or as little – as you feel like. Ah'm not goin' anywhere on you." Interrupted by sniffles, and so quietly that Rhia had to perk her ears forward, Penny spoke haltingly. Rhia didn't know what distressed her more; that Penny had somehow lurched through a childhood of misery, abuse, and humiliation, or that she could speak of it with such detachment now that the storm had – for the moment, anyway – passed. Penny's halting voice painted a dark picture, of a drunken lout of a father, a slatternly junkie of a mother, and day after day after day of neglect and ridicule. The little kindnesses that happened, all too rarely, were even worse; they'd given Penny a faint taste of what else might be possible, what could be... the one rare act of goodness when her mother had given her a gift of music in the form of an old CD player. Her voice broke a bit as she began to tell of her foster family. "I... w-wanted them to be better, nicer, to love me," she whispered brokenly. "But they didn't... they found out, and called me a freak," she went on in a halting voice. "And then he... my foster father wanted... other things. He... he said he liked freaks... and he was stronger than me, he hurt me... pushed me down... and, and... it hurt, Rhia, God, it hurt when he pushed into me...!" "You mean he raped you?!" Rhia asked, ears swivelling back, and Penny nodded miserably. "Oh, Penny..." the Appaloosa said softly, tears welling up in her eyes. She let go of Penny, who sat up, sniffing, her sapphire eyes red-rimmed in her silver-dappled face. The Appaloosa rested her hand on the Arabian horse-girl's shoulder and gently brushed her cheek with the other. "Penny, love, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and everything to be proud of," she said softly. "It's going to take you time to come to believe it yourself, but it's true. My God, girl, look at you! You're beautiful and smart, and you've been doing for yourself and making your own way in the world!" Impulsively she hugged the younger girl. "Honey, don't you ever think you're worthless. You're strong and I'll keep telling you so until you start believin' it." "Th-thanks, Rhia," she replied, a fragile smile curving her lips. "I never just... blurted all that out before... but it helped." Her hand came up to rest on Rhia's, lacing her silver-grey fingers between Rhia's cream ones. "That hurt... but it hurts less now, kind of," she added, and Rhiannon nodded. "One thing I'm curious about," she asked, cocking her head to one side. "Your father and your foster-father – both grade-A bastards, from the sounds of it – they both called you a freak, and your foster father liked to assault – no," she went on, deliberately changing her choice of words, "he liked to rape a girl he could humiliate by calling her a freak. But why? What was so freakish about you?" She looked Penny over. "Y'all look like a normal, pretty umamusume mare t'me," she deliberately exaggerated her drawl. "Because I – because he saw my... because I'm like you, Rhia," she gulped. There, she'd said it... only her cousin seemed perplexed still, and she dredged up the last ragged remnants of her courage. Despite her cousin's promise, she was scared... and yet, if anyone should understand, Rhia should... "Because I've got, got a cock," she let her voice trail away on the last word. Rhia's reaction was just about as opposite to what she had feared as was possible. Her green eyes grew round, her chocolate lips opened in an 'O' of surprise as she clasped her hands to her generous bosom, and in the manner of the most histrionic of harlequin romance southern belles, she exclaimed, "Mercy! Penny, child, such language – and whatevah d'y'all mean, y'all have a cock?!" The performance was so utterly ridiculous and over the top that despite her whipsawed emotional state, Penny couldn't help but giggle. Rhiannon's fake-fainting-belle act dropped as she gave a great whoop of laughter – hearty, full-bodied, robust, a true belly-laugh. "Penny," she gasped as she recovered herself, "was that all it was? Shoot, hon, you need to do some readin'; there's prob'ly more herms among umas than any others. We're not common, but definitely not freaks, and your fathers – both of 'em – were idiots as well as abusers and child rapists." She leaned back against the wall, her jeans clinging to her long legs, and rested her hands on her thighs, thumbs touching, which made the bulge in her jeans quite obvious. "When did you find – ohh..." she trailed off, putting it together. "This morning, when Ah was servicin' Star, hm?" Rhia grinned. "Bit of a surprise?" she asked. At Penny's nod, she went on, "Hon, we're horses, too, you know. This here's a stud farm; what kind of farm manager would I be if I didn't use all my resources? Besides, Amando doesn't do stud duties, so someone has to pick up the slack." "He doesn't do...?" Penny mused, distracted for the moment by the memory of the handsome white-coated drafter and the faint blush that had adorned his cheeks. "But – last night...?" She looked the question at her cousin. "Amando's gay, hon," Rhiannon replied, smiling. "He wasn't mountin' me; other way 'round. But he's not my boyfriend or anything, and if you're interested and he is, too, don't be worryin' that I'm gonna think you're poachin'. He's his own boy." The smile grew to a grin. "His room's right next to yours, in fact." She stood, resting her hands on her hips. "Whyn't y'all have a wander about, hon, look the place over, get t'know my boys. Give your mind a break, distract yourself a bit. We'll talk more later. Right now I need to see 'bout gettin' dinner put together." Penny nodded, thoughts and feelings churning in her head after Rhiannon had kissed her again then left. She had no doubt at all of the sincerity of Rhiannon's affirmation of kinship, but the idea of someone, anyone who was family and wasn't abusive was something to grapple with. Curiously, she found that having poured it out to her cousin, she was better able now to think about many things she'd kept locked safely away in her memories. They hurt – God, how they hurt! - but they weren't absolutely unthinkable any more. She was still thinking when Rhiannon's soft soprano called up the stairs that dinner was ready, and though she replied to various conversation-starters offered, her attention was mostly elsewhere. After lunch or dinner or whatever it was, she decided to follow Rhia's advice, and followed her cousin's employees-cum-family out, trailing behind a bit. Rusty and Jake had some mysterious relaxed, sauntering pace that nonetheless carried them quite swiftly out along the dusty track winding around a grove of trees. Amando had evidently been in town on errands after the mid-morning break because a slat-sided flatbed truck was parked by the barn, loaded with fat sacks of feed. Whistling softly, he heaved the sacks off the flatbed with apparent ease, and Penny found herself watching the smooth play of muscles across his broad shoulders and down his back. She couldn't help staring at his ass; it was by far one of the most perfect asses she'd ever seen, and she reflected once again on Rhiannon's words. ...if you're interested and he is too... He's his own boy... Would he be interested, though? Surely he wouldn't think she was a freak, not if he'd been in bed with Rhiannon...? but a herm uma, without balls... wasn't that freakish? He had a very promising bulge in his jeans, too, and that set her thinking again... would it be like her foster father, who'd forced himself on her? She didn't know; it could be, and panic rose in her until he turned again, and gave her an unobstructed view of that marvellous ass once more. Plucking up her courage, she wandered closer. "Hey, Amando..." now what? She realized she had no idea. She couldn't just proposition him... she settled on "Hey, you want a hand with that?"