She Walks the Track Again

1. Prologue – Coat Open on the Bale

Lauren sat on the bale with the coat slipped down her arms and pooled at her elbows. The straw pricked the backs of her thighs through the thin fabric of the dress she had not bothered to change out of. Late light came through the gaps in the roof in long, dusty bars and warmed the skin of her shoulders and the tops of her breasts where the neckline had been left open. She kept her knees apart. One hand rested on the inside of her thigh, fingers loose, the other braced behind her on the rough wood. She listened.

The field outside was quiet except for the small sounds of dry grass moving. Then the low scrape of claws on packed dirt. She did not stand. She shifted her weight instead, letting the coat fall farther, the cool air finding the damp place between her legs. Her breath stayed even. She watched the open doorway and the strip of ground beyond it.

The wolf stepped into the light. Its coat looked darker inside the barn, the gray along its shoulders catching only at the edges. It stopped just past the threshold, head lowered, and the pale eye found her. Lauren’s fingers tightened once on her own thigh and then loosened again. She stayed where she was. The animal crossed the floor without hurry. Straw shifted under its paws. When it reached the bale it put its muzzle against the inside of her knee and held it there, breath warm and rank against the soft skin. She felt the wet of its nose. Her leg did not close.

It licked once, a slow drag from the crease of her knee upward along the inside of her thigh. The tongue was broad and rough. Lauren’s hand left her thigh and settled on the back of its neck, fingers sinking into the thick fur. She did not pull. The second lick went higher. She felt the heat of it open her, the wet sound small in the quiet barn. Her hips rolled once against the straw. The wolf’s head pushed farther between her legs and the tongue found the slick already waiting. It pressed flat and licked upward in one long stroke. Her breath caught. She kept her hand on its neck and let the next stroke come, and the one after that, each one slower than the last, until her thighs shook against the sides of its head and the sound of her own breathing filled the space under the roof.

The wolf lifted its head. Its muzzle was wet. Lauren looked down at it and did not move her hand. Outside, the light thinned. The door stayed open.

1. Chapter 1 – The Dirt Track

Lauren pulled the red velvet dress over her head in the narrow bathroom of the rental and smoothed it down ...