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All the while Iwas searching my memory, trying to remember each time I'd used my newcredit card and Madison Monroe's passport. By the time I left theapartment, I'd worked out the beginnings of a plan.First I hailed a taxi to the Gare de Lyon, where I used MadisonMonroe's credit card to buy a ticket in first class on the next TGVexpress to Marseilles. I also used my credit card at the stationbookstore, where I purchase several travel guides to Tangier,Casablanca and Morocco. Also before I left, I spent some time at atravel agency next to the station, asking a lot of questions beforebooking passage on a ferry that same evening from Marseilles toTangier. The last thing I did was to exchange all of my remainingtravelers checks for cash.The crack train took three hours to race from Paris to Marseilles.The scenery through the south of France was magnificent, but I waspreoccupied with other things. After we arrived in the swelteringport city, I checked my suitcase with the concierge at a. Relentless ... Continual ... The training of a Pony. In due time, Saucy Lady was untethered and put between the shafts. She shied and whimpered ... already the skin was wet with the sweat of dread ... but in she went all the same. “There . . . there . . . quiet Pony . . . easy now . . .” Slap ... slap ... “Easy ... nothing to worry about ... just a little walk to begin with ...” Belle felt the reins taken. Felt the tug of the bit into her cheeks. “Off you go, Saucy ... just a nice easy walking pace. Let’s see how you move. Come on ... off! Thwack! Sven’s leathern training-strap fell across Belle’s rump. Then again. Thwack! Belle moved off, pulling the light carriage behind her. Seated low, Sven looked up admiringly at the superb hindquarters of his new charge. Yes ... this was some Pony. A real thoroughbred. In a week or two, she would be moving like a good ‘un. Moving as smooth as silk, too. One could see that. This one had natural ability. Sven felt a kind of pride as Saucy Lady.
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I watched her watch me, her foot tapping to some interior melody; impatient, I wondered, for me to leave. I enjoyed watching her breathe. She held her upper arms close to her body, thrusting her breasts up and slightly out to each side, they rose and fell wonderfully, enticingly, steadily. Her belly puffed out like a small pillow, a place to rest my head or my cock."Where have you been in this endless war?" she asked, setting her cup down. "I was just a child when it began, goodness, five years ago isn't it?" She folded her hands in her lap and played with a button at the hem of her short, velvet jacket.I was tempted to ask how old she was, guessed she was not yet twenty from the soft lines of her smooth face, but instead told her, trying to sound humble, that after the British left Boston, I had seen some action in '76 on Long Island, at White Plains and then at Trenton in the winter. Her eyes widened. I did not tell her about the first time I took leave of the army or of my brief.

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