Even
"HOME SWEET HOME," I thought, as I dragged my oversized suitcase up to the bunkhouse, behind Janine who led the way, carrying a large duffel bag of mine. I never packed lightly. I liked to feel like I had a home.
Reminiscent of the farmworker housing I lived in as a small child, the large, clapboard-covered building looked like it'd been there for a hundred years. It probably had. Inside, I found bunk bed-outfitted rooms, for girls on the bottom floor and boys on the second. The floorboards creaked and the rooms were small, but it had an aura about it of being well-kept, with swept floors, clean walls and sweet-scented, cool air. Framed black and white photos lined the hallways, with what looked like vintage pictures of the ranch. The building had been retrofitted with handicapped access, including a ramp up to the entrance, and even had an elevator to the second floor. I was impressed.
I was to bunk with the female staff, Janine and another woman, on the first floor towards the end of the building in a medium-sized room with four bunk beds; male staff slept on the second floor. We each got a full bunk to ourselves along with a small chest of drawers.
The bunkhouse had a utility room down the hall with a washer and dryer, a small kitchen with a staff refrigerator, which as a vegan, I’d definitely need, and a lounge, with ratty couches and a decrepit, old television with a DVD player. There was also a small office for me to use to plan programs and research on the internet.
While I was charmed by the vintage surroundings, one thing hit me: there was no privacy. I'd gotten used to living on my own in my apartment. This felt like living in a college dorm again. That said, even though it had been a decade since I lived in a dorm, I'm an extrovert who thrived off being around people. This sounded like fun and I was ready.
After giving me the tour, Janine took off for the stables, leaving me to change and unpack.
I set my suitcase on the floor by my bunk, went out to the car to get my pillow, sleeping bag, and other things, then came in to change into jeans. Janine was going to take me out on a horse, and I needed to be wearing long pants and good shoes. I also needed to take off my damp white cami.
I quickly took off my shirt, which had a shelf-bra, and stripped down to my thong, searching in my duffel bag for a bra.
And then I heard a recognizable, deep, male voice and loud footsteps coming quickly down the hall. Shit. Mr. Conservative Shower Man. I had, literally, nowhere to hide, and I hadn't thought to lock the door, since this was the floor for girls. It stood ajar. I moved toward the door to close it, but was too late. "Janine?" he called, and then knocked on the door frame and walked in, without waiting for a response.
Hi.
Now it was my turn to be caught naked. Well, practically. Amelia often accused me of being an exhibitionist. She's right, I am. But now it felt like Mr. Grouchy Shower Man and I were even.
There I stood, wearing a white lace thong and my tattoos, boobs on full display. Even though I was thin with long legs, I almost filled a C-cup. A cool breeze found its way through the building and made my nipples pucker. But I'm sure he didn't notice.
I also had my tattoos out for his perusal. On my left arm, down the inside, script lettering read Omnia causa fiunt, meaning "Everything happens for a reason" in Latin. On my left side waist, a Noah's ark was anchored, with animals, two by two, spilling out onto the front of my waist and the back. My plan? To save them all, if I could. On each hip bone I'd inked a star. I hoped that someday my lover would have matching stars and we could unite them. A dove permanently flew on my collar bone, with an olive branch, for peace. And on my right ass cheek, where he couldn't see it right now, up high near my waist rested a green and blue mother Earth, to protect.
Mr. Handsome Shower Man stood there, staring at me. Then his eyes raked down my body, then up, then down again.
Then he shook himself and turned red, shoving his hands in his jeans. He had to be close to my age, or maybe older, so seeing him act sheepish was kind of cute, and a marked contrast to his earlier asshole behavior.
"Guess it's my turn to be sorry," he said gruffly, and turned to go.
"Wait," I said, still practically naked, not caring, wiggling just to mess with him. And because goddamn he was hot.
"Yeah?" he responded, not turning around.
"What's your name?"
He finally turned to face me and looked me in the eyes. "Will Thrash."
The boss.
It figured. He walked around like he owned the place because he did own the place. Still, everything happened for a reason.
"I'm Marie," I said, reaching out my hand to shake his.
He looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably was. While I should be embarrassed, I wasn't. I thought it was the funniest damn thing. He couldn't figure out whether to shake the hand of the topless, practically naked, female employee or not. It wasn't like we were in a strip club, where this was expected of the employees. He finally decided to shake my hand and did so firmly, averting his eyes and looking to the side, "I'll just go look for Janine," he said and then left.
But not before I saw a bulge the size of California in his Wranglers.
After I heard his footsteps fade down the hall, I collapsed on my bottom bunk in peals of laughter. And then I got dressed and went to go join Janine with the horses.