Cowboy's Baby_An Age Play And Spanking Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Cowboy's Baby

  S. L. Finlay

  Copyright © year S. L. Finlay

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters portrayed are consenting adults over the age of eighteen and are biologically unrelated.

  CHAPTER ONE

  When I graduated university and everyone else was talking about their travel plans for their 'gap year' experiences before they entered the work force and the world of adults, there was only one place I wanted to go: the United States of America.

  For the whole final year of my university life I had fantasized about life in America. I had consumed copious amounts of American TV, movies and music. Or at least more than the average Australian (which is quite a lot to begin with). I spent my nights before falling asleep reading 'great American classics' and days flipping through guide books and looking over maps before heading off to the university.

  I won't pretend university life didn't have a bearing on my choice. In the final year of university, we had three or four exchange students from different parts of the US. I would prod them for stories of home, which were always forthcoming from the homesick students.

  While I did all of this media consumption and prodding exchange students, I had some ideas of where I wanted to go. I would go to either New York City (because it's New York, and why wouldn't I want to go there? Everybody goes there!) Or I would go to the 'middle bit' between the two coasts. I would find a ranch somewhere and learn how to be a cowgirl.

  As much as New York would be great to start my boring career in finance (a career choice that was so boring it even made me want to sleep when I spoke about it), cowboy country would be something different and exciting all together. Cowboy country would give me stories for years to come, it would be exciting and a huge adventure. Cowboy country would be something else entirely. I thought about it so much that it even entered my dreams. When I started to dream about it, that's when I knew I had to do it. I had to go start my life in cowboy country. Or at least take my 'gap year' there, and spend some time doing something entirely for me before I started a career that had been chosen for me by strict parents and pushy teachers.

  Just because I was good with numbers didn't mean I wanted to work with them for my whole life.

  By the time my final exams occurred, my parents had relinquished the reigns enough to be happy for me with my future plans. They said that my wanting to explore the USA was okay by them, as I had finished my university education and no matter what these exams showed, I would still be one of the top students in my class.

  In Australia, your final exams are around November (the school year begins in March at the end of our summer) and you don't graduate until April. I cannot tell you why this is, as to me it would make more sense to have graduation ceremonies when you finish studying in November before the year ends, but there it is.

  Between November and April I worked my buns off trying to get enough money together for the trip. I took two jobs – one in a supermarket during the week and one washing dogs on the weekend – and spent next to none of my money as I worked hard for every cent.

  My friends who were not taking off to tour the world were frantically applying to every single graduate program they could. Some were even applying for graduate programs in other cities, which seemed a shame as after living in Melbourne, most Australian cities (with the exception of Sydney which is huge) feel a bit like towns. But if you're on a graduate program most reasoned, you don't have time for coffee and wine culture. You only have time for working ninety hours a week without being compensated for it properly.

  I didn't want that. I never had.

  The America trip was my ticket away from the stresses they would have to endure. I was happy I hadn't chosen New York as I would have to deal with the same stresses as my friends only in a country where I didn't have full citizenship rights. No thanks.

  While I was working at the supermarket, I received a phone call from the company who I had booked a trip through. Initially, I had booked a six week trip around the US that would include some time on a ranch. This had been the idea of my mother, but when push came to shove, I had decided I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be chauffeured around by someone only to spent a tiny amount of time on a ranch. I had tried to cancel but the company said they didn't take cancellations.

  I had been disappointed, but wasn't sure what else to do and while I was working seven days a week, I didn't think there was too much time to work out what else I could do.

  The company had called me that day to let me know they would release me from my contract and return all monies paid by me. I wouldn't discover for a long time that the reason they had done that was that working behind the scenes, my mother had contacted them with a threat to sue if they didn't return my money. Apparently it was in my contract that they should do so should I pull out within a certain notice period, which I had tried to do. When I discovered this too, all I did was smile because my mother had been so good to me without letting on that she was. She didn't want to impede my independence. I loved her for that.

  When the money came back, I was still left with the one way flight to LAX from Melbourne and the travel insurance. I didn't have anything else booked or know what I was doing generally, really.

  So I went to work doing some research that night when I received my refund and every night for a week on what to do, where to go. In the end, I decided to cold email as many people as I could, to join forums and groups online and to offer to volunteer if I had to. Just so long as I could get onto a ranch, I would be fine.

  It took three weeks until I started receiving emails back. Mostly people said no, one or two were curious ranchers who hadn't heard of this before: Australian university students with no experience in ranching coming to the US to learn how to be
a rancher just for fun. They were polite, but I could hear them sniggering through their computers. This was hard work, not a holiday camp they implied (heavily) in their emails.

  I didn't care what it was, I had dreams and although they might not be conventional dreams for a soon-to-be-financier, they were still mine. I still wanted to make this happen. I had to make this happen.

  Then one day at work in my supermarket, I sat down in the lunch room with some sandwiches I had made for myself at home, and I was checking my emails on my phone when one came in from a name I didn't recognise. I only had junk mail in my emails anyway, so when I opened this one, I was a little curious what it was about. A real person was emailing me. When I began to read, my curiosity turned into excitement swiftly. This was different from what I had expected.

  A rancher had heard about me from one of his neighbours while he was in town getting supplies with his son. The rancher had thought my story was a curious one and wanted to know if I would be interested in coming to help him out. He didn't normally hire people this way (through the internet) but he was happy to speak to me on the phone if I could call his ranch one day and maybe we could work out some way where I could go there to help out.

  I was so excited, I almost didn't know what to do. How could I make this work? I called my mother right away and told her the good news, proud of myself for getting this job offer.

  My mother sounded sceptical. Who was this person and why did they want to hire someone they had never even spoken to? What sort of skills did they want and what sort of skills did they think I had? I listened to my mother's concerns and criticism and although it burst my bubble a little bit, it did bring me down to earth. I agreed to talk to her about this more when I got home and got back to work at the end of my lunch break.

  Working alongside all the girls at the supermarket that day, I kept my plans to myself. They all knew what I wanted to do, but we didn't talk about it because everyone knew the boss didn't like staff to move on so quickly and I had only begun working here recently.

  When I got home though I burst into the house and sat down with mum to talk this over. We decided on what I needed to know from the phone call and my mum coached me a little before we worked out the time zones, and I emailed the rancher back to let him know when I would call. I could call that Friday after work, did that time suit him? He got back to me a few hours later with a yes and that Friday I made the call.

  We spoke on the phone for around an hour talking everything through. The rancher seemed happy to help with everything I needed (like transport to the ranch) and would even help me with some training around riding horses, etc. However, he told me he didn't want me to be a cow girl. He had heard I was good with numbers and he needed someone to help with his taxes and other accounts.

  "The IRS are difficult." He said ominously.

  I knew from my exposure to American media that the IRS were not someone anyone really messed with, and were an agency everyone took seriously, and dreaded even a little bit, even when they weren't doing anything wrong. I told the rancher I didn't know the ins and outs of the tax laws in the US but I was happy to help where I could.

  When we hung up the phone my mother was still sceptical but she told me that if it all got too much, I had enough money from working two jobs that I could get myself to a capital city and start working as a waitress if I had to.

  That was my mother, a woman who even as she pulled strings behind the scenes, tried to instil a sense of confidence in you and your abilities. She was great to me, and I know how lucky I was to have had her as a parent.

  It was time to strike out on my own though, so I took her advice and got to work making this dream happen.

  I was going to the USA now and nothing could stop me. Nothing could get between me and my dream!

  CHAPTER TWO

  After plenty of planning and working, I reached my graduation ceremony which marked 'the day before I flew'. As I had only planned to stay long enough to get some money together before taking off, it was important to me that I left ASAP after my graduation ceremony.

  This meant the ceremony was a big deal to me. Both because I was so relieved that I had finally finished the degree I had had no real interest in and also because this was a chance to see everyone all at once and have a big party before I got on the plane.

  And it was. It was a huge party.

  I invited my parents, sister and grandparents to the ceremony itself, where I would also see my university friends and have a drink together (there was a university-funded bar tab) before going to eat a late dinner with everyone in my family who had attended plus one other set of grandparents.

  The actual graduation ceremony was really well organised. My university had to graduate so many students that year that by the time the ceremony for people like me who had studied the most boring stuff on the planet came around, the staff had it down to an art.

  I sat in my assigned seat among the other graduands and my family sat in the first row for guests. To this day I am not sure how they got such a great seat, but I am sure it had something to do with my grandmother's elbows.

  Sitting with the graduands, we all chatted (as quietly as possible) while the ceremony was underway. It was hard not to when we were all so excited. We were graduating, this was amazing!

  It felt long past due: my graduation, and I was happy that this was finally happening. I couldn't believe how long it felt like, these past few years. And to be here among the people who I started this journey with felt like a fitting end.

  I still remembered our first lecture together and seeing some of these faces around the room. I remember the first time I met most of these people, too. It felt like so long ago.

  When it was my turn to get up and accept my certificate, I joined the orderly line behind everyone else in my row and marched up to the stage. We were standing in the wings waiting to be called up individually when I realised my smile: one that wouldn't come off my face. I was excited, this was brilliant! I was finally here, graduating. It never felt like it would happen!

  I followed the cues they had taught all the graduands backstage when we'd gone to accept our gowns and walked up on stage when it was my turn, shook the man with the funny hats hand and walked over to my place in the line behind the person who had graduated before me. We both congratulated one another as I found my family in the crowd. My mother was holding up a camera and clicked a photo of me holding my certificate. I would see that photo later and the smile upon my face and laugh. What a fantastic photo, what a fantastic day!

  That evening I had a drink with everyone. I would pick up a glass of cheap Champaign, clink glasses with a different graduand and take a sip. I had too many drinks to count and when it was time to say goodbye to my friends and get in the car to be taken to dinner I was already quite drunk. Then at dinner, I had more to drink. By the time it was time to go home after the dinner I was swaying on my feet, a full tummy of food.

  My sister teased me about throwing up in the car on the way home but I shook my head. I wouldn't throw up. I had a plane to catch the next day, that wasn't happening.

  "Are you sure you'll make it?" She asked, teasing.

  I rolled my eyes in answer. "Of course I will!"

  We both giggled then at the absurdity of it: I was so sure I would be able to make it to the airport despite not being able to stand.

  "Are you all packed?" My mother asked from the front passenger seat.

  I nodded, of course I was packed. This was a trip I had wanted to take forever! I wasn't going to forget to pack for such a trip!

  That night, despite all the alcohol in my system I lay in bed unable to sleep. I was sure the nausea from drinking too much wasn't helping, but at the same time, didn't drunk people sleep the best of all?

  I was going to go across the world and the thought, as exciting as it was an as well prepared as I was, did frighten me. I was scared of what would happen. I was scared of being on my own. I was scared of what I would do if the ranch
I was supposed to be working at suddenly decide they didn't want me there, if they kicked me out. Even as I had a bunch of money saved, I still worried what would happen.

  I took a few deep breaths and decided to worry about it in the morning before rolling over and shutting my eyes. Even if I didn't get any sleep, at least my eyes would be well rested.

  I must have fallen asleep eventually as I did wake up to my alarm the next morning. When I did, I almost jumped out of bed ready to take on the day. I threw on some clothes and got everything in order for the trip.

  Then I ran downstairs for breakfast and found my sister and parents waiting for me at the breakfast table. Everyone was on their best behaviour throughout breakfast which kind of annoyed me. I know I was just about to leave the country, but couldn't everyone be a bit more like themselves?

  When it was time to go, my sister rushed upstairs to help with my bags and as we loaded them into my car I could see my mum tearing up. My dad reminded her on the sly to calm down and she took a few deep breaths before getting in the car.

  Seeing that made me stop in my tracks but as my parents were trying to hide the emotional outburst from me, I wasn't going to let them know I had seen it. I got into the back seat of the car beside my sister and took a few deep breaths. This was actually happening.

  My sister took my hand without saying anything and squeezed. I squeezed her hand back and we began the silent language we had always had of squeezing and sighing and looking out windows. We knew what we were communicating, yet no-one else did. It was nice to have a sister. I would miss her.

  When we arrived at the airport and parked, I had the feeling of something heavy sitting inside my chest and looking over at my mother whose steely face told me she was struggling to stay strong, I had to take a few deep breaths of my own and force my legs to work. This wasn't a big deal, it was only a year.

  As much as I wanted to be independent though, I was still scared. I was scared of how this was going to go into the future and I was scared of how I felt (I felt awful!). I knew once I got on that plane it would be easier and that it was only difficult now because I was saying goodbye to my family who I loved. I would be fine.