Accidentally turned into a horse by his lover (who’s a witch) a young lawyer's plan to defraud a billionaire goes wildly wrong. Destined to see the cruel crazy erotic world through equine eyes, finally he manages to escape to become an animal rights activist.
Retranslated and (liberally) adapted in today’s world (of London) from the original Latin of Lucius Apuleius (a Tunisian Roman citizen), which itself came from the Ancient Greek he wrote it in.
WARNING: The Greeks and Romans had no problem with 'adult themes' and outlooks on life (from 2,000 years ago!) which are sometimes very different from today's and may shock some readers to the core.
As Yogi Berra said, "When you come to a fork in the road. Take it."
"Golden Horse" is your fork.
Afraid of what lies on the very rocky road ahead? Then turn back.
Chapter 17 - Part 3
Amen.
I stared at Peregrine. During the whole of this fantastic, revolting speech, he stood stock still, a mute statue, a painted picture. I could only assume that the shock was so great that it had somehow paralysed him.
As if to cement her passion, to prove her worth and her words, Mrs Ormsby-Harmsworth suddenly flung herself up and out of her death bed, straight into the arms of her horrified step-son. Sooner than you could say 'Phaedra', she had torn open his shirt and was pinching his nipples and pushing her tongue deep into his mouth, moaning loudly. The boy had finally had enough. With a cry like a maddened bull, he threw his molester onto the floor and ran down the stairs, like a stripper at a Baptist dinner party.
For some hours, I was left alone to ponder the momentous happenings of the afternoon and their possible consequences. I cropped the grass thoughtfully and wondered what I would do in Perry's shoes. The simplest solution was probably to shag the old cow and get it all out of her system. I doubted that dear Perry would, or even could, be so pragmatic.
It was six o'clock before Jilly appeared to take me back to the stable for the night. As she groomed me with more even more vigour than usual, I heard more about the scenes up stairs.
"There's been some sort of scene between Mummy and Perry, but it's really hush-hush. I think they had a row, which is really weird, coz normally she's all over him, always buying him presents and taking him out to lunch. Anyway, he seems to have upset her big time and he's really upset, too. He's gone off to see the General in Malborough. And he only does that when things have gone really arse over, whatever the saying is. Like when he started going out with Sophie and was embarrassed that she was so clever and well-educated. Would it be all right to introduce her to the County? Sir Michael's been his C.O for, like, ever and is now some sort of Father Confessor. Perry tells him everything. And expects him to solve all his problems, with a wave of his magic wand. I don't know what he advised today. Obvs.
Anyway, things have been #awkward for the whole afternoon. Daddy thought that it might cheer the patient up if we all had tea together. Big mistake. Mummy wouldn't even look at the scones and I was forced to eat three slices of coffee and walnut to spare the feelings of Mrs H. But as she's such a good cook, that wasn't really much of a sacrifice. But Daddy ate almost nothing either. He kept trying to hold Mummy's hand or stroke her brow, but she spent the whole time texting. Who do you think she was texting, Jodie? She doesn't have any friends. Not surprising. She's such a cow. Oh, it's so maddening that you can't talk. I'm sure that you're really clever under all that horsy stuff. I'm sure you'd have worked it all out by now. The Sherlock Holmes of the stables."
I graciously inclined my head and accepted the compliment, while Jilly kicked the stable-door in frustration at my current inability to communicate. It was a frustration that I wholeheartedly shared.
"But at least Charlie's coming back tomorrow. He's promised to spend at least three days at the Hall. We haven't told Mummy. Daddy thinks that the surprise might jolt her out of all this boring depression business. Whatever. I'll certainly be pleased to see little bro again. D'you know, he hasn't spent the night here for almost three months? He's always at the London flat. Boring. But the grouse are finally luring him away from Knightsbridge. And from the hateful Bella. She's really common, you know, Jodie. She doesn't even know how to ride. And I swear to God that she's even scared of you!"
Jilly laughed loudly at the very idea. I tried to tell her that I was a seventeen-hand stallion with a cock that would frighten most women, but my macho protestations came out as a gentle, winsome whinny. The brat stroked my velvet nose and kissed it.
"Don't worry. I love you and I don't feel the least bit scared of you. You're just a great big softy."
With that dubious compliment, the girl finally fell silent. She continued the grooming, plaited my mane and poured out an extra-generous measure of meal. She bolted the stable-door, wished me a soft 'goodnight' and ran off inside. I did, indeed, have a very good night, cushioned in clean straw and serenaded by the local nightingale (the super rich have all the best birds, as well as all the best houses, furniture, paintings and nose-jobs). I'm sure that I had a better night than Mrs Ormsy-Harmsworth. I'm quite certain that she spent a sleepless night, in the cruel grip of hormonally over-driven sexual frustration. Been there. Done that. And it's bloody awful.
© 2017 Mimi L. Thompson
For previous chapters (some of which are posted as nsfw because of 'adult themed' content not photographs) please visit my blog page. Your support is much appreciated and comments are most welcome
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