The flight to Paris from Montana was long, two hours to Minneapolis and then another ten to Paris. Marie had the plane stocked by the chef at the Antelope Club, who rarely disappointed her culinary expectations. She was always worried about gaining pounds when traveling, so the fare was light but tantalizing. She and her adorable horse trainer, Trevor, had just finished a sumptuous lobster salad with a red pepper sauce that was the perfect accompaniment to her favorite beverage, Tattinger champagne. She was delighted to finally be alone with him, showing him her world in style at thirty thousand feet above the third planet from the sun. She doubted he had ever eaten a lobster salad, and if he had, she was certain he had never enjoyed one on a private jet.

          Marie was planning the forthcoming days in Paris, the restaurants, the antique stores, her appointments with her personal stylist, and all the outfits Trevor would be wearing that she had purchased back in Montana. And of course she would pick up a few things her stylist, Jacques, would recommend for him. Trevor was the perfect accessory.

          In her personal life, just as in her business, the trainer chose her studs. Like any good trainer, she could pick an up-and-coming winner. But it took time. She had to groom him as her personal stud and train him to be a prize-winning show animal. And this one was certainly a stud. He was in his twenties, with a tight, cute, little butt and the most gorgeous abs Marie had ever seen. He made an underwear model look downright plain. Now she just had to break him.

          Marie was not from old money. She knew a lot more about “white trash” than anyone who’d attended that theme party of hers would ever have guessed. Her family had been carnies, circus folk, and she’d been nothing more than a gypsy kid, never staying in anyplace very long. But she was cute, some even called her beautiful, and she’d learned from an early age how to con and manipulate. Eventually the ring led her to Las Vegas, where she’d landed a gig as a dancer. She had no problem working several boyfriends to pay for surgical enhancements. No one would ever know her background, nor that she never attended college. Scott had been a big Vegas player, with a hobo, con-man history himself. Marie knew they were two of a kind. He’d believed her stories and was willing to buy it all to have her at his side at more than just the tables. Snagging him had been a snap.

          Scott provided her an opulent lifestyle, and for a while it had mostly satisfied her. But after a while, even opulence became normal and boring. She had to keep showing off her own lavishness. Trevor was a perfect audience for that. Connie had warned her that he wasn’t what he seemed, that she might be in for a let-down. She got the feeling Connie wanted to tell her more, but she didn’t want to hear it. Connie was her closest friend, as much as any Doll could be a friend to Marie. Connie was the only one who understood how insecure Marie really was behind all her money. But she could also be such a prude! Constantly telling her that she could never really make a man love her or want her, no matter what she did for him. Too bad she couldn’t see Trevor’s face now, as he admired his new Rolex watch.

          “I want you to wear your western duds in Paris,” Marie said. “The world loves a cowboy. I can’t wait to show you off in your JB Hill ostrich boots and tight jeans. You’ll look like a high-dollar cowboy straight out of Cowboys & Indians.”

          “You’ve got to be kidding,” said Trevor. “What do you mean? I’m going to play cowboys and Indians?”

          “No darling, like in the magazine. It’s the ‘it’ magazine of the Rockies, the Town and Country for the wild west.”

          “Sometimes I don’t understand you and your fancy ideas,” said Trevor, trying to be polite.

          “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be fine, just fine,” said Marie, as she acted as though her hand had slipped and accidentally had fallen on his crotch. Trevor jumped.

          Marie had planned the sequence of this trip for weeks. They would arrive in Paris after making love most of the way on her beautiful bed in the Global Express Embraer. Trevor would be smitten, especially after she bought him Poshenka, a horse that was considered “art” in the equestrian world. Trevor had told her the animal was an equine dream, that never in his life could he have imagined such a magnificent animal could be his. Well, she certainly wasn’t putting it in Trevor’s name now, but Poshenka would be his to have and work and care for every day, and of course he would be in the limelight with it during show season. She could picture Trevor on top of Poshenka in the show ring, two gorgeous creatures moving as one. It was straight out of a fairytale. If she knew he was in love with her, if he was the one, she would give him the horse and a whole lot more. She chuckled at the delicious analogy. She would keep Trevor, ride him and train him, just as he would do with his new prize show horse.

           “This is the fanciest flying machine I’ve ever seen,” he said. “It’s totally over the top. Do you have any video games? It would be fun to play up here.”

          “Play we can,” said Marie, not paying attention as Trevor moved away from her and looked out the window.

          “What ones do you have?” He wasn’t looking in her direction. “You could be a female warrior like in Prince of Persia. You’re kinda like that game.” Then Marie thought she heard him whisper, “The further you get into it the less you like it.”

            “What did you say?” she asked.

            “Nothing,” he said. “It sure is quiet up here.”

          Lunch was cleared, and the staff vanished to the front of the plane. Marie was alone with her guest and ready for her dessert. She carried both their glasses of champagne into the plush bedroom. It too was done in all white, with a white suede comforter on the bed that faced the flat-screen television. Mood lighting created a cozy, dreamy atmosphere. Marie loved flying. She felt free and relaxed so far way from the bustling planet below. This was the moment she had been building up to.

          She kissed Trevor lightly on the mouth, expecting him to respond with a kiss of his own. Instead he seemed frozen as if he’d never touched a woman before. Could it be that he hadn’t? The boy was in his mid-twenties. This couldn’t have been his first time.

He smiled a shy smile, looking extremely nervous. Marie wasn’t prepared for this. Back on her ranch she thought he’d been encouraging, if a bit timid. She had framed pictures of the two of them taken at a recent horse show. They were on her desk, front and center, in her barn office. Trevor had to have noticed them. She didn’t have pictures of herself with any other man; she had broken, shattered, and thrown away the collection of herself with her previous cowboy.

          Maybe Trevor didn’t understand how much she wanted him. She reached behind him and grabbed his buttocks, pulling him down on top of her as she slowly guided them on top of the bed. He had to have guessed why she had chosen him to come on this trip with her. He couldn’t have thought it was just about buying a horse and some antiques. He was being offered the chance of a lifetime. His role was simple: Just make love to her, take care of her, be there for her and his life would be so very easy.

          She rubbed the front of his pants expecting to find a bulge. Instead it was as flat as a cutting board. Maybe she had the wrong spot. She couldn’t exactly see down there so she began to massage his inner thighs. That should bring it up. At the same time she was sucking his fingers ever so slowly just to give him an idea of what more was to come.

          “Here, let me unbuckle your jeans,” she breathed.

Trevor’s face turned the color of her plane’s interior. “Ma'am,” he said, “I’m sorry.” His mouth opened again but no words came out.

          “Please cut the ma'am stuff. Call me Marie. It’s okay. It’s fine, sweetheart.” Now she tried being gentle. She eased his hand slowly down between her legs.

          “Ma’am?” said Trevor. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” He rushed into the bathroom.

          She fumed through the long minutes Trevor spent behind the door. The steady white noise of the plane kept her from hearing whether he was puking or not, but she wasn’t sure if she was grateful for that. She couldn’t stop visualizing nasty yellow vomit flowing over the eggshell interior of her bathroom.

          By the time she heard the latch click, though, she’d made herself calm down. She had worked too hard on this trip to Paris to let this stupid rube ruin it with his stomach. When Trevor stepped through the door, he found Marie gazing at him with her most solicitous smile.

          “Do you feel better?” she asked.

          He hesitated, as if about to say something, before finally coming out with, “Yes, ma’am.”

          “Come here then, and sit next to me. I get the feeling you’re not used to eating seafood.”

          “I guess not,” he muttered, although without much conviction.

          She pulled him down next to her, snuggled her face against his, and began to stroke his hair. She winced at the acrid smell of his breath but then forced the smile back to her face. “Well, you just rest a while, then. We have lots of time still to fly. Maybe we should just curl up here for a while and watch a movie.”

          “I like movies,” he said.

          “I’m sure there’s something here that will put you in just the right mood.” She began scrolling through the selections on her in-flight video system. There had to something there, something sultry and sexy that would spark the libido of even a nauseous cowboy.

          Trevor stared at her. He seemed to be struggling desperately to say something but just couldn’t find the words. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up and he looked as if he’d just had the best idea of his life. “Say, ma’am?” he said. “Do you have Brokeback Mountain?”