Southern Fried
mischief I’d gotten myself into. What on earth
    would the next several days hold? And was I strong enough to
    handle it? After all, I was no Granny.
    I stared up at the canopy and wagged my finger up to her.
    If up was in fact where she was. “Well, at least it’s never boring
    around here.” It was then I spotted it, wedged into the groove
    between the wood and the fabric. I stood on the bed, usually
    a big no-no, and retrieved it. It was a ripped piece of paper, a
    corner piece, blank. Pink. It gave off a strange smell. Fragrant.
    “Granny’s stationary,” I said, pocketing the fragment. I looked
    around, but that was all I saw.
    And I didn’t have time to look any further. “What on earth
    are you doing up there, boy?” It was Pearl, arms akimbo, a nasty
    glower on her face. “Get off your granny’s bed this instant.” I
    hopped down. “What’re you doing up there anyway?” she asked,
    staring up at where the paper had been wedged.
    “I, uh, nothing, Pearl. I saw a spider’s web and wanted to
    brush it off,” I lied.
    She sneered. “Nonsense, boy. Ain’t no spider’s web up there.
    Your granny would’ve had a fit. Now get.” She swatted my rump.
    “Go get washed up; dinner will be ready soon.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said, suddenly back to being a teenager all
    over again. “What are we having?”
    The smile returned to her face. “Fried chicken, turnip greens,
    and candied yams.”
    And then my smile joined hers. “All my favorites. You
    remembered!” I ran in and gave her a hug, more for my benefit
    than hers. I needed one right about then.
    She patted my back. “As if I’d forget, boy. What, you think
    I’m an old woman, not remembering something as important as
    that?”
    I looked up at her. “You look even younger than the last time
    I saw you, Pearl.”
    She snickered. “Boy, if your eyes weren’t so green, I’d swear
    southeRn FRied 19
    you were full of shit.” She pushed me away and winked. “Now
    go get washed up before I lose my last bit of patience.”
    I ran out of the room, hollering over my shoulder, “Lost it
    years ago, Pearl. Years ago.”
    I heard her laugh as I took the stairs two at a time, running
    into the bathroom at the end of the hall. It was bigger than my
    own back home by double, the shower and the tub separate, with
    a window overlooking the stables. I stared down and spotted
    Zeb grooming one of the mares. Even from a distance he was
    adorable, a determined look on his face as he brushed her down,
    her flanks trembling as he put his back into it. He turned, wiping
    the sweat off his brow, and noticed me, then waved. I waved in
    return, my prick growing hard at the very sight of him. Like we’d
    know each other for ages.
    I got undressed, then hopped in the shower. The water felt
    great after such a stressful day. Returning to ones youth, after all,
    can be, uh, taxing. Not to mention, that looming funeral, well,
    loomed . I know, that’s a lot of fretting, but give me a break; I’d
    suddenly been reorphaned and was just barely holding my shit
    together. Though it seemed like I was to have some bit of help
    with that.
    I heard the door creak open and then click shut. “Pearl?” I
    asked, head tilted up beneath the spray of water.
    He opened the curtain, smiling big and wide and bright.
    “Guess again.”
    My smile matched his. “You smell like horse, Zeb,” I told him.
    “I think you could use a shower.”
    He stripped off his t-shirt. “Then I’m in the right place.”
    I stood with my back against the tile, dick making an upward
    climb. He kicked off his boots and slid out of his shorts and
    socks. Naked and just as hard as me, he got in and closed the
    curtain behind him. I put my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t
    think the lord of the manor is supposed to sleep with the stable
    boy.”
    He winked and pressed his chest into mine. “Who’s sleeping?”
    20 Rob Rosen
    His lips met mine, water dripping down over our faces, our
    tongues
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