by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 56
We had left the south of France for Argentina in August. Father wanted to play polo and buy some mounts for his team. The Argentineans rate the best among players and they raise the best horses for the game. Mother stayed in Paris with my older sister. Father wanted me to join him since I was the most athletic of his four daughters and the best rider. I’d been winning blue ribbons in the hunter-jumper equitation class since I was five. He said, “It’s about time you learned to play polo properly.” In other words, I had no choice.
Within days of arriving in Argentina father had worked me to the bone, but I proved a natural at the game. Though South American men still believe women to be just pretty little things, I showed them that beauty and femininity was only part of a girl’s repertoire, even at the tender age of fifteen. Anyway I was glad to get away from Jean.
After a sweaty hot game, several days after we had arrived, father told me to not be late to the club house for our daily lunch with the players. Mother and I are always late and father never tires of noisily complaining. So I promised not to be late. I walked my horse, cooled him down, and then sent him off into the field.
I was running short of time so I tried my best to be quick about it. First I had to get my boots off, which is always the hardest thing to do. My tack box was by my mount’s stall. So I went right over, but as usual, my boots were stuck. Then I saw Pico walk by. Pico, I was told, was one of the best grooms. He always knows which feed to give to the horses and he is very good with them and getting girls’ boots off.
He saw me with both hands on the rail of the stall door struggling. He came over and put his hand on my calf and then told me to push, but that wouldn’t help either. He then said I’d have to do it the old fashioned way. I knew what that was. I walked into the stall, got on the hay and lifted up my leg.
Pico was very nice though I wished he hadn’t to needed to drag me all over, hay even got stuck in my panties, but he did get my boots off. I thanked him with a kiss and headed to the shower. On my way I heard some of the other grooms talking as I went by. The fools didn’t know that I can speak four, well, I’d say five, but my Chinese is rusty, languages. They were talking about hot and sexy the young senorita was and how they’d like to fuck her. Then one of them said, “Maybe if we pay her like we do the prostitutes…”
Somehow that struck a chord. I had seen the French Emmanuelle series, which was about an incredibly beautiful girl who did unexpected things, though I thought the writing was predictable and the characters, well, I won’t even go there…but the thought of being a sexy worldly prostitute, of selling yourself, of submitting yourself to whomever and being wildly fucked – – it was indecent an disgusting. I quickly shook off the devil.
As I was about to get into the shower the phone rang. Father was impatient. I told him that I was girl and if he wanted a boy to go get one. The phone was silent. He said, “You always get your way,” and slammed the phone down. I smiled, hung up, and took a long shower and made them all wait.