I watched the show from the sidelines. I’d secured a spot in the front row, making sure nothing and nobody could get in between me and his performance. God, he was such a show-off, so sure of himself he exuded arrogance. And the audience lapped it up. They loved it—adored him—and he knew it, worked it and milked it for all it was worth.
Of course he had to be half naked during his performance as well. Where the other cowboys were perfectly happy keeping their shirt on, his first action after entering the field had been to take his off. Not that there was anything wrong with his body. I mean watching his muscles ripple was no hardship, and I couldn’t deny his powerful chest and slim waist made my imagination go into overdrive. But still, had the man no shame?
He did battle with the stallion as he did every weekend. The powerful animal reared and struck out with its front legs, only barely missing kicking the head of the man who had captured him. The crowd held their collective breath. Not me. I’d seen it all before. I knew this scene for what it was: a well rehearsed show in which both man and animal knew their parts to the last minute detail, and nothing was left to chance.
As always the display ended with the stallion kneeling before his captor. The crowd roared in appreciation before turning and moving to the next field and the next display of power and skill. I stayed where I was, staring at the man who never stopped showing off.
He turned until he faced me, the broad, adrenaline-filled smile still stretched across his attractive features. We were alone now, just me and the show-off. He swung the lariat over his head again, the loop growing on each rotation until he threw it. As always, his aim was spot on, and his target captured on the first attempt. When he started roping in his prize, he didn’t have to put nearly as much muscle into it as he had with the horse. His victim came willingly.
I put one foot in front of the other as he pulled me closer. He’d captured me again. Or maybe I should say he’d reasserted his claim on me. Like the stallion before me, I bent my knees and knelt in front of him. Yes, he was and always would be the biggest show-off I’d ever seen, but he was my show-off.
As always, more stories based on the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fic Group on Facebook.
And thank you Brigham Vaughn and Theo Fenraven for proofreading this for me and making sure I didn't make a complete mess of, especially, my horse and lassoing terms.