3.27.2008

Annike Goutal, Duel

She's got a date with the queen of the rodeo, but after pitching hay and herding cattle all day, there are grass stains on her jeans, divots caked in her boots, and sweat in her hat. Musty-sweet horse-smell has penetrated her clothes right down to her longjohns, and her shirt...well, she should change her shirt.

But she cleans up real nice, and the sharp, caustic soap she uses will lather it up and pull it all down, slipping like a bride's silken chemise down her back, down her legs, and pooling at her small, rough toes at it swirls down, down the shower drain, leaving her with a sharp, hybrid aura - clean and dirt, soap and the faintest glow of grassy sweat, a soft, spicy incense no bath can banish. The aroma subsides into a deep green fog as she towels off, like the distant, transparent mountains on a summer evening.

Curls in place, smile bright, belt, hat, boots, and she's off to sip raspberry phosphates with the prettiest queen in the West.

1 comment:

oedipa said...

i will be your rodeo queen!!!! you can wear duel and i'll wear sables . . . .