The fateful day arrived. I was definitely nervous. I had too much to think about. I needed to watch out for Mr. Hanson and I had to keep up my façade of being interested in joining the club – both to secure my pretext of being there and to keep in with my new boss. I’d have to play it carefully. When I decided not to join the club I’d have to be careful not to seem like it was a frivolous decision to ask to come along so that I don’t make life awkward at work in the future. Anyway, you never know, I thought, I might decide I want to join after all anyway.
I hadn’t really been sure what to wear, casual was definitely out of the question, but then I thought so was business attire. In the end I settled on a summer dress and sun hat with matching handbag and sensible shoes – I wasn’t sure if I’d be walking on soft ground or proper paths. I was afraid of the former and so ruled out sandals.
Mr. Hanson was true to his word and picked me up at 8:30 on the dot. The journey was pleasant enough and took us through some of the lovely rolling countryside. The estate was really more of a large farm, but a good ten miles from the nearest town and a couple from the next village.
The entrance was hidden away down a secluded track and it took us longer to find than we’d anticipated and so we were running a little late by the time we arrived. I could tell that Mr. Hanson was a little fraught, he clearly didn’t like being late to such an important event and I couldn’t really blame him.
A marshal on the gate checked our invitations and waved us in. We parked in a small field already mostly filled with large four-by-fours, some with horse boxes, and executive saloons.
As we hurried between the cars towards the buildings something caught the corner of my eye. It was only a glimpse between two trailers and I dismissed it as my imagination. My brain told me I’d seen a topless woman but that couldn’t be right. Oh, I should have stopped to check but then hindsight is a wonderful thing.
The marshal must have radioed ahead to let Mr. Stirling know that his guests had arrived since he came and met us to take us through to the show field. As always he looked me up and down as he shook Mr. Hanson’s hand and then took mine and said, “Lovely, lovely.” A wider than usual smile stretching his lips into a grin.
I blushed at the unexpected compliment and found myself murmuring a thank you.
“This way, this way,” he encouraged us, “they’ve already started the first event of the day. You haven’t missed much.”
As we turned a corner, I could see a collection of marquees and tents and one or two people ambling between them. Suddenly though we were confronted by a sight that stopped us both dead.
This time there was no mistake. The woman who appeared from behind a wall was essentially naked. Her body was constrained with dark straps but they didn’t cover much. Her breasts were completely bare, well except for two small tassels affixed to her nipples. Her lower half was covered by a dangerously thin strap descending from her waist between her legs and up behind her. Neither really left much for the imagination to fill in.
I had seen my first ponygirl.
She was clearly intended to appear like a human horse, for the straps on her body made up a harness which continued up to her head, in the form of bridle including what looked like a horse’s bit. She also sported a “tail” the same colour as her hair, protruding from her rear. Her hands were grasped behind her back and it looked to me that they might well be fastened behind her to her harness.
To complete the image of a horse, she was being led by reins attached to her bridle by a middle aged man dressed in tweed.
I was totally gob smacked. The man behaved as if this was completely normal and she was going along with it without any form of complaint.
I stared on in shock and an understanding dawned on me. The participants were indeed women and there were no horses. The women instead took on the role of the ponies. It also explained the “cross between athletics and gymkhana”. I could understand that now, but still why was she so exposed?
My stunned thoughts were interrupted though by Mr. Stirling.
“She’s exquisite isn’t she?” It seemed he’d misunderstood our stunned looks for admiration. “But we should hurry, they’re about to have the first race of the day.”
He strode off quickly, leading the way. Mr. Hanson and I followed along behind him in silence. I wasn’t quite sure what I could say and thoughts had already begun to spin around in my head.
It wasn’t long before we were in amongst the tents. Now we couldn’t move without seeing more of these naked girls. All were young, fit and attractive; all wore leather harnesses of one variety or another; all had bridles; and all had their hands immobilised some how: most were fastened behind their backs, some at their sides and others fastened up to the collar around their neck, their arms framing their bare breasts.
They looked calm and almost serene. Many were standing patiently besides their ‘owner’, ‘trainer’ or ‘groom’, as I soon learned were the correct terms, others were being led by reins or simply following, and some were ‘hitched’ to stakes. All though seemed completely content to be treated like animals. I wondered why they weren’t fighting against their bondage.
The rest of the people were such a contrast to the ponygirls that that made the situation seem even more bizarre. They were dressed normally, just as one might expect country folk at traditional gymkhanas to be. As we passed I heard snatches of conversation here and there that all seemed mundane and ordinary. If it weren’t for the naked girls it could be any countryside gathering.
Then we stopped besides a marquee and Mr. Stirling introduced Mr. Hanson to a handful of people. I recognised one of them as one of the directors of RS Systems. He welcomed Mr. Hanson and congratulated him on the soon to be signed deal. A second man was introduced as a local business man, and finally a young and shapely brunette shook hands with Mr. Hanson. She was introduced as Miss April Woolsey, who worked at Mr. Stirling’s farm estate.
The aforementioned seemed intent on ignoring me as usual, and perhaps as a consequence I stood a little back. I was definitely feeling uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, at that moment the pretty blonde ponygirl was led in to our little group and that led to:
“This is a Isabelle, and she’s interested in becoming a ponygirl!”
Now I realised just what the implication of what I’d said were. I wondered what Mr. Hanson must be thinking about me now. Did he believe that I wanted to run around naked, made up like a kinky pony?
And what about my new boss? I now felt very uneasy. He was a member of this club and knew about these ponygirls. Now he thought that I liked the idea of being one of them. How could I work with him now? I was kicking myself for my stupid ‘cunning’ plan. However, I had to be careful. I couldn’t back out now without making the situation even more awkward or even hindering Mr. Hanson’s deal. Mr. Stirling had repeated told me that the member of club took membership very seriously. If I admitted my ruse now, I was sure that it would cause a problem.
My head was spinning and I was trying to think through the consequences of what I’d done but I couldn’t concentrate.
Mr. Stirling prompted me again, “you are interested in being a ponygirl, aren’t you my dear?”
I wanted the ground to swallow me up. There didn’t seem to be any answer I could give that wouldn’t make everything ten times worse than they were already. I decided that the only course I could really take was to brazen out my bluff.
“Erm, yes, well interested in seeing what its all about at least.” I knew I was blushing bright red. After all I was admitting to these strangers, the man I’d worked with for a couple of years and the man I’d be working for from next week, that I was interested in the idea of parading around in the nude being treated like a horse.
“Come now, there’s no need to be shy, we’re all friends here. When we spoke on the phone you told me how excited you were by the prospect of joining the club and how you’d been looking for just such an opportunity as this. Isn’t that so?”
Hoist by my own petard! Mr. Hanson had been standing right there besides me when I’d told Mr. Stirling that, so there was no way I could deny it. If anything my blush got even deeper.
“Erm,” I hesitated again. I felt like a rabbit stuck in a car’s headlights. Everyone was now watching me intently.
“Yes,” I eventually confirmed nodding and dropping my head. I just couldn’t make eye contact with the others. I felt so humiliated. Why had I come up with the stupid plan, I’m far too clever for my own good sometimes.
“Good. You’re a bit late, we like to get new member registration completed early on, but that can’t be helped now. The club secretary will sort out the registration process presently. Andrew and I need to sign some papers before we can sit back and enjoy what the show has to offer.”
Mr. Stirling continued, “speak of the devil, here is Mrs. Hurst. She’ll sort you out and get you properly registered.” He gestured to a matronly figure bustling towards us. The woman was a good four or five inches shorter than me and it seemed almost twice as wide.
“Jenny, it’s so good to see you. Please accept my apologies, Isabelle here has only just arrived, I understand that they had a little trouble finding us. But I think she’s eager to get started, she’s just been telling us how excited she is.” Not quite true, but I didn’t think it wise to contradict him.
Then he turned towards me, “Now run along with Mrs. Hurst.”
I’d definitely been dismissed. I felt humiliated.