29.11.11 (iiii)

New Horse Riding Instructor
And so he heard it would be someone by the name of Patricia Hartley, he felt that name lent itself well to authority, he hoped she would be entirely different to Euphemia. That name which at first seemed exotic and outlandish, but steadily became whimsical and pathetically childish after each lesson.
On the break of one particular Tuesday she came. Polishing the foothold of his saddle he heard the dull pad of her boots on wet grass. Not turning but instead intending to give the impression of attention and tenacity (an intention that was acrimoniously missed by her).
“Patricia Hartley”, in a deep woman's voice. He introduced himself courteously and a wide furrow in her brow marked the tired routine of this gesture, “Saddle up”, she said.
His new teacher was particularly discerning on that first ride, she expelled from him a wandering adolescent as he searched wildly for common ground. He revealed much of his person that morning, but very little of his character. It was only at the cease of day that he looked upon her amply. In the pale gloam of their return he observed her muscular flanks, flexed taut against her breeches, they rose and fell with the easy trot of the beast. It was hard to envisage the ethereal naked skin of a woman beneath.
Those first few weeks he endured her company regularly and through this he learnt the content of silence and the easy rhythm of nature. He learnt the cadenced seasons of the day, from the early call of the starling to the parch of summer dew, the grey silhouette of trees and the homecoming flight of the linnet. It was on these terms that Patricia Hartley rode alongside him.
Day by day she became more familiar to him, but always he would call her ‘Patricia’, never ‘pat’ (as she would suggest).In the twilight of one Thursday she stayed on with him to replenish the hay and see to the stable chores. That night he seemed to see her for the first time. The throb of her breasts against the damp of her shirt, the cling of sweat and the easy curve of her waist. And in her parting she held him in her arms, her stalwart chest pressed against his slender form, their bodies stiff and unfitting. In this momentary embrace he felt the stirring of his sex and a damp in his groin.
The following days there was a reluctance in their discourse, a prudent step in their knowing of each other. The Summer was passing into Autumn and the cold seemed all the more pressing due to this knot, this sudden ineptitude. They stopped, they stood at the riverbank , the silent passing of water and a heaviness in his breath. The matting of their gaze and their bodies coursing toward one another, the wet of parted lips and a rake at the bare of skin. Her breath withdrawn then quietly steaming through her nose, and he with the loud abandon of youth. She was so much older than him that night.
Both he and her changed markedly from that day forth. With the coming of Autumn came the hush of the outdoors, spare for the drop of leaves and the muffled call of the faraway birds. These winds that coursed through their clothes and brushed the naked skin beneath, for now everything in their travels took on a carnal being. Their voices would cross gently as though they were simply adult and adolescent, nothing else. But sometimes beneath the course of speech would lurk notes belonging to that of a lover, notes that were heavy, avid and bawdy. And in the light of dusk upon the riverbank there bodies would meet, and amongst the cold light of the moon there would be a warmth in her groin and a dither in their shapeless contour.
The content of this affair was understood by them both as being something fleeting but amiable. And now whilst in the throes of passion she became as violent and careless as he, but apart from this they were contented in a slight and considered friendship. In the coming of winter Patricia seemed to yield to him, his boyish heat lessened and so similarly did her resolve. The nights gave way to wild shudders in her thighs, a new and disgusting yearning for him, her feral cry beneath his fall, and in this time they became more and more like lovers. He became in many ways her equal. Equal except for the lines in her skin, the gross swell at her waist, the pallor at her breasts, she became breathless quickly, her moans were loud and irksome, she would call his name over and over again. She became desperate and at once pathetic.
Now she questioned him ceaselessly through the slow light of day, he would never look on her face, that face he now found unbearable, aged, decrepit. This shallow gaze continued through to the summer, where the sun would almost emit a translucence in her skin and its intensity would often blind her. With this he would have to lead her through the close woodland and return early, leaving her alone to tend to the stable chores. And once at the height of the summer, their partnership ended. Ended without a single goodbye. Ended having learnt an easy canter, a pace that he took upon himself to quicken.