Taken By The Bull

“I should wear one. It’s recommended procedure.” Steve stopped, one hand resting on the back of the bull as if it were a living beast. “But it doesn’t work for me. It just – gets in the way of what I have to do.”

Staci wondered what he meant by that. She was pretty sure that he wasn’t worried about messing up his hair. She wasn’t exactly about to press the issue though. “Can I start, then?”

“Sure.” Steve didn’t seem to be eager to pursue the matter, either. “I’m not fixing to make Sparkplugs send you to the moon, or anything.”

Suddenly nervous, she scuffed one foot over the floor. “Sparkplugs, Thunderbutt… You like giving things weird names.”

“I sure do! Well, to be fair, it’s partly Seth’s doing. He’ll say something off-hand, I’ll like the sound of it, next thing you know it’s official.” Glancing towards her, he noticed her uneasy shuffling. “So, you want to get started? Or are you having some last minute doubts?”

“No, no, of course not!” She forced herself to smile as she stepped closer to the bull, as she put out one hand and touched the soft leather of the saddle. Moments before, she’d been imagining how it would feel to ride the thing; now that it was a looming reality, all she could think of was how hard she could fall from it. “So, I – to get up, I just-”

Suddenly her feet were off the ground as he slipped one arm around her waist for stability, his other hand firm on her ass, lifting her skywards. She let out an audible gasp in surprise – but before she even had the time to work out whether she was more shocked at how easily he could bear her weight – or how rude it was to grab a ladies ass without warning – she was up, sat astride the mechanical bull. “Dammit, Steve!” She turned and glared at him, laughing at the same time. “You shocked the hell out of me!”

“Now, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, stepping back, hands loosely tucked into his old jeans pockets; the half smile on his face indicated that his statement might not have been the whole of the truth. “I just thought you needed a little boost up, is all.”

“Maybe you just wanted to grab my ass.” Staci shrugged delicately, slipping the fingers of her good right hand under the padded strap, palm up, uncertain of the right way to hold it. “But that’s okay. This time.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Doffing an invisible hat, he inclined his head. “Won’t happen again.”

“Well…” Her eyes met his. “I never said that I didn’t like it.So, uh – what next, Steve?”

“You’re holding that strap Brazilian-style.” He moved closer, and reached out to touch her wrist lightly. His eyes never left hers. “It gives strength to your hold, but it can be tough on the joints, and if you’re thrown you’re more likely to twist your arm. Try the overhand hold, instead.”

“Okay.” She could barely breathe with nervous tension as she loosed her hold; and found his hand gently guiding hers into the correct position, fingers under the padded strap, palm above. “Like this?”

“Like that.” He nodded; the expression in those powerfully blue eyes unfathomable. “Most use their dominant hand to hold, like you are doing; some few like to use it for balance, like me. Now, put your other arm up, and out.”

I’m a little teapot, Staci thought nonsensically as she raised her left arm, flexed at the elbow, hand upturned. Short and… I’m not ‘that’ stout. “Like this?”

“Almost.” He moved to her left side and reached up, his fingers warm against her bare skin as he straightened her arm and rotated it so her palm faced forward and down. “Now, you’ll find yourself wanting to move it around a lot, most like. But remember, it’s for balance; you move your body, but you keep your arm still. If you want to give a signal to stop, put your arm out in front with the palm facing me like a guard at a cross-walk – and holler, for good measure.”

“Okay. I got it.” She nodded, turning her head to see his large hands against the fine bones of her wrist an instant before he let go; he could wrap his whole hand around her upper arm and make a perfect unbroken circle. “We ready?”

“Almost,” he said for the second time. “Now, remember to grip with your knees and upper thighs. You’re not sitting on the bull; you’re riding him. Keep your weight forward.” His hand moved to the small of her back, pressing her gently forward and up. “Your upper body must be loose, so you can swing and sway to counterbalance the machine. Watch the head to get an indication of where it’s going to move next. Lean back when the head goes down, and forward when it goes up.”

“Okay. Okay.” She nodded, and her breath caught as he stepped away and moved to the wall-mounted controls. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

“Okay then.” He nodded once, and pushed a large button before his hand moved to the controls.

Staci felt the motors of the mechanical bull hum to life, the machinery thrumming loudly as the pistons set to work, rising up off the ground; the head came slowly up, and she leaned forward as she’d been told. “I’m doing it!”

“Just keep doing it!” Steve grinned; and the bull pivoted to the left, the woman on top shifting her weight to compensate.

This is easy! It’s easy as-

She looked up to see if Steve was watching as the head moved down; caught off-balance she dug her heels in, and when it whirled to the left again she couldn’t keep up, and felt herself lurch heavily off to the side. When the bull bucked upwards again she wasn’t ready – and before she could draw a breath or form a single thought, she was thrown into the mat below, landing on her side.

That – didn’t go so good. DAMMIT! I was doing so well!

The bull came to a stop. “Are you alright?” Steve’s voice was calm, concerned, close – she looked up, straight into his eyes as he knelt beside her and softly touched her shoulder. “That was pretty good for a first-timer.”

“Steve, you’re a terrible liar!” Without thinking, she braced her hand on his shoulder and pulled herself up to her feet. “I wanna go again!”

“You sure?”

“Hell, yeah!”

“That’s my girl.” Was he smiling as he boosted her back up into the saddle again? She thought he was. “Let’s give it another shot!”

This time she focused on the head, her eyes firmly locked in place; and when it pivoted again, she was ready for it. Rocking her hips forward and back with each mid-tempo thrust and rise of the machine, she focused on keeping her free arm still, swaying in time to the pivots like a dancer. Keeping her knees and thighs tight-pressed into its sides she stayed firm as it ran through every tilt and motion that it had, again and again; still she stayed on.

“Faster!” Staci called out, childlike in her glee – eyes still focused on the head of the mechanical bull as if her entire world had shrunk down to this one central point. “Make it go FASTER!”

Steve didn’t argue, or tell her it was too much. “Alright! Hold on!”