Behooved

by M. Stevenson

Only to step on the hem of my own skirts, windmill frantically, and topple face-first into the harbor.

STOP HOW EMBARRASSING

would knock him off his high horse so hard he would never mount it again. He

🐎 🐴 double horse

a warhorse’s hooves.

🐎

steered by the reins of much-needed progress.”

🐎

snorted, as if I were the one who was periodically equine.

🐴

Oh. The bed. There was only one.

🐎 🛌

“Say it again.” His voice was hoarse. “That you want me.”

His voice as hoarse.. teehee. 🐴

“So, which is better: riding him as a horse, or as a man?”