Free Big Book Of Lesbian Horse Stories by Alisa Surkis

slipped in the back door. “Is that you, Peg?” called a voice. “Come here.” Mother! Peg reluctantly followed the voice to the front hall. Her mother was taking off her blue veiled hat in front of the hall mirror, fluffing her blond curls with a well-manicured hand. Turning, she exclaimed sharply, “Peg, what are you doing in those dreadful jodhpurs? I thought you were going to the country club with Carol—weren’t Doreen and Marjorie going to be there too?”
    Remembering her new resolution, Peg lifted her head defiantly. “I’m through with Doreen and Marjorie!” she cried, stomping her booted foot for emphasis. “They’re nothing but a pair of nasty old fakes!”
    â€œPeg! Really!” her mother exclaimed in horror.
    â€œThey can go on trying to be glamour girls if that’s how they get their kicks, but from now on I’m going to the stables every day! I’m going to help Pat take care of the horses! I’m going to learn everything about horses and never spend a second more in a skirt than I have to!” With that, Peg raced up the stairs, ignoring her mother’s shocked exclamations.
    â€œHorses! Not again! And who is Pat ? ”
    Once safely in her room, Peg began to calm down. She hoped Dad could smooth things over. He seemed to understand that she was different from other girls. She took off her riding boots, grabbed a book off the nightstand, and curled up on her bed. Whenever life seemed too hard to bear, Peg always chose the same book, and it didn’t matter how many times she’d read it, it always gave her the same wonderful shivery feeling. With a happy sigh, she opened the battered green cover of Journey to a Horse .
    Dinner that night was a strained affair. Her mother and Carol, both tight-lipped, exchanged glances over Peg’s head as she stolidly ate her pot roast and mashed potatoes. As Della cleared the plates, her father coughed once or twice and then said with the genial air which made him a top sales manager at Shandygaff Industries, “What’s this about you missing the Junior Miss thingamajig at the country club, Peg? That’s not very nice disappointing those gals, is it?”
    â€œThey’re just a bunch of old snobs!” said Peg with feeling.
    â€œWell, I like that,” Carol exclaimed witheringly, laying down her fork. “Those are some of my very best friends you’re talking about, not to mention me!”
    â€œPeg, I don’t know where you get this attitude!” their mother burst out. “Those girls are your classmates and friends; they’re the kind of people we want to associate with. But you seem unwilling to cooperate! All your time is spent at the stables!”
    â€œAw, Peg’s not doing any harm,” Johnny put in his two cents. “She’s got as much right as the next fellow to wear her silly jodhpurs.”
    â€œI think you should forbid her to go to the stables,” Carol told their mother.
    â€œNow, Carol,” Peg’s father broke in. “All things in moderation, as my old prof used to tell us. Say, I’ve got an idea!” Mr. Gardner said as Della handed him a fresh martini. “Peg can go to the stables, but only if”—he held up his hand as Peg let loose a squeal of pleasure—“she also does her part on the Fall Frolic at the country club. That’s the Junior Miss project, isn’t it, Carol? What do you say, Peg?”
    Peg’s face fell at the mention of the Fall Frolic, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. After all, Daddy paid the monthly stable bill. “All right, Daddy,” she said slowly.
    â€œThat’s Daddy’s girl!” he said with a loving smile of approval as Della placed dishes of lemon meringue pie in front of them.
    The next few weeks Peg spent every afternoon except Thursdays at the stable. Slowly, Garbo’s strained tendon recovered, and Pat began