TITLE: IT 26 -- The Saddle
AUTHOR: Juliebug ([email protected])
CODES: TNG, indirect P/C, 1/1
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE:  Sure, ASC and the IT page. Others should ask.
FEEDBACK:  Welcome at [email protected].
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all, Bevster started this madness, but
this little bit o' fluff is mine.

Author's Note: Thanks to all the other IT authors, particularly
Bevster, for this hysterical series. Thanks also to Martha and
TrexPhile for quick betas and answers to questions about saddles. <G>

Summary:  POV from Picard's saddle.

--

THE SADDLE
(By Juliebug <[email protected]>)

None of you are going to believe me when I tell you what happened to
me last night. It was disgusting. Disgraceful. I cannot believe I
was used in such a fashion. By the CAPTAIN, no less.

It's no secret that he rides me. It's not the most respectable of
jobs, but I love it and take pride in it. My old bald guy has ridden
me for years, before he was old and bald. That's what I'm for. He
loves to ride the horses, and I love being the one to support him.
It's fantastic. We work as one. His muscles, all taut and tight as
we gallop through hills and fields... It's intoxicating.

He's always treated me well. Lovingly, even. He uses me regularly,
makes sure I'm well-oiled, stores me in a comfortable space...

Last night showed a COMPLETE lack of character. Yes, he was on me,
riding me, as usual. But that redheaded hussy was there, too. And
she WASN'T wearing proper riding attire. In fact, she wasn't wearing
anything at ALL. And to make it worse... well... SHE was riding HIM,
while HE was riding ME! Oh, the shame of having to witness those
actions. Ugh. She doesn't even know how to ride properly. She sat
right down on his saddlehorn! It was obscene. Not that he minded.
Oh, no. He just let her sit right there as we cantered merrily along.

Don't even talk to me about the mess they made. Goopy liquids wound
up everywhere and you know something? He didn't even bother to CLEAN
ME OFF. His loving companion for the last fifteen years, and I'm left
with these smelly, nasty stains for god knows how long! When they
were done, he took me back to our quarters, but the redheaded hussy
came along, too! I wouldn't have minded, but he just dumped me on the
floor and kicked me into a corner! I heard him go to the replicator
and ask for some oil, and I thought, for a moment, that he would take
care of me. Rub it into my cracks, make sure I wasn't dry. But no!
Apparently, it was to use on that hussy! Hmph. I'm don't like the
idea of him rubbing oil into HER cracks!

I cried for a time, as the floor consoled me, telling me I wasn't
alone, that he's also been neglected by our old bald guy.

The hussy has apparently been spending a lot of time here, lately.
They've both been indulging in unspeakably disgusting acts, according
to the floor. You would not believe the stains the poor floor's
gotten from their activities. I think that's chocolate over there.
Definitely some wine. And what is THAT? Jam?

That's it. That hussy has CHANGED him. He used to be so caring and
loving and gentle and now look! No respect! No respect for any of
his possessions. Though, I suppose it could be worse, in many ways.
At least he doesn't sit on MY saddlehorn.