My troubles were over. My difficulties had just begun. For the next four days the team and I struggled with the intricacies of controlling a three-horse hitch. I never let up on them, insisting on complete obedience, a lack of initiative, simultaneous actions, and continued 24-hour-a-day intimacy. We relaxed at night, usually with Malua, I told more lies about the OW and learned a lot of island lore from Malua and Jappala. The girls got an even, all-over tan except for their waists. Every night I asked my pony if it was still thinking. Each night, after a pause, it nodded all three of its heads. Each night I assured it that it was making progress, and the day would come when it could honestly answer that it wasn’t thinking at all.

Malua and I contrived to lose a lot of precious sleep time, but she wasn’t ‘ready’ yet for ‘straight’ intercourse. It wasn’t because of concern over pregnancy, they had a tea that prevented fertilization. She just didn’t hop into the sack fast. Later I found out that most island women were that way, but at the time I began to fear that her addiction had turned her off straight sex completely.

With a week and a half to go until the races it was finally time to let the pony exercise. We drove over to the big oval, no problems now with the team, they reacted to my little twitches on their reins and I could keep them almost centered on the path, moving over when a cart came the other way, and even managing to wave to other drivers without making my team veer. We were early, and had the oval to ourselves.

It was big. A mile around at least by its look, Malua had said they used a measuring line to make sure it was 5940 yards on the inside, a mile and an eighth. This wasn’t a scale I was used to for humans. This was for horseflesh. The pony had become restive as soon as we got to the oval, it knew what this was for. I hadn’t been talking to it at all for three days, just using touches to communicate, and I could sense its excitement. The silence had a purpose. Well, purposes. The three girls who made up my pony were, at heart, normal, chattering young women. To be deprived of speech by their bits and my discipline was hard enough, to not even hear anyone talking had to be worse. They were in a state of sensory deprivation and frustration. The deprivation led to heightened suggestibility which was useful in getting them better welded into one pony, the frustration was ready to boil over now and would find its outlet in physical exertion.

We turned out onto the track. The pony pranced a bit in eagerness to be off. I held all three sets of reins in tight, keeping its heads up, making the little chuckle for ‘knee-high trot’, and checking its raw speed. Control, always control. Loose it, Jim boyo, and you’ve lost your fine lassies. Yeah, right Paddy, sit back and enjoy the show. I gave one little shake of the reins and they went to a clipping 10" stride, knees way up. Down the stretch that way, then a circle and back up, then around to the starting point again. Whoa. Steady, stand there, don’t twitch... Then two shakes and they almost exploded, zipping to a real trot. I kept them at that all the way around, letting them warm up and lather, but not gallop. Three joined bodies, legs linked, breath whistling through their bits, rears working in earnest now, not just swaying fashionably, heels brushing bottoms on each stride. "This is what we’re made for", those rears were saying, "Let us go, let us run..." No, not just yet. I wanted the level of frustration to build back after their partial release. One little tug on their bits and they all three came back to the high-action 10" show pace, we kept that up to cool down, then a circle back up the stretch, back to the starting line, and stop. It was almost too much - I almost lost the pony to its urge to run. It was obeying, but the spirit was still strong, the urge to burst down that track battering at the discipline I’d hammered in. I held it, waiting, waiting, and finally gave a strong shake and a "Hup now, go, go, go!"

Wow.

When they went, they went. Two weeks of waiting and frustration were cast off. Two weeks of training were just enough to keep them in step, not tripping each other. Two weeks of training were enough to keep them responding to their reins, so we could go around the first turn somewhere near the rail, but the driver wasn’t doing a good job.

I was stunned at their speed. The four legs exploded, it seemed the cart and I weighed nothing, we hit some unreasonable rate at once, I tried to keep from pulling on them or touching their necks, heels were flashing up hitting rumps with a thump on each stride, and then my pony really started running. The stride got longer, legs and bodies right in synch, and we were covering ground on the backstretch. The far turn was better, I had some idea of what I was doing by then, we continued smoothly into the last turn, and I couldn’t help it, "Hah now, hah!" on the home stretch and they picked up the pace. After the line I jiggled the reins once. Nothing happened, but after a bit the pony began to slow, finally to a trot, knees lifting, and with another jiggle back to the accustomed old high trot. It was a different pony, though. Snorting and blowing, sweat gleaming, drool hanging from chins, panting, and backs just so straight you could have used them as plumb lines. I hopped out while they were still moving and led them over to the water trough, where they plunged their heads in, then got a basin and let each head drink in turn. It should have been in unison, but I didn’t think the heads would mind. They were all smiling, truly ‘radiant’ to match their hair.

"Well, well, well. It seems I have a pony who can run. A little rest, pony, and we’ll try three laps at a fast canter. I’m off to get you some refreshment, don’t get into mischief." Small chance, with their reins tied to the water trough. I had brought a jug of wine and some bread in a hamper, left at the gate, and that was the reward for my pony’s good efforts. Then a real reward - I took their bits out.

"Each part may speak. Tell me what needs improving, tell me if all three parts are pulling." Joanne looked pleading, "Yes, middle?" (I had decided names distracted from unity, they were just ‘left, middle, right’ now.)

"Master I... uh, this part wasn’t as fast. I... It didn’t feel that it was pulling, as much as just keeping up."

"Right?"

"Master the middle did fine, it is not as fast yet but it has to move with both legs attached, that’s harder. It will speed up."

"Left?"

"Master right is correct. Middle is doing fine, but middle isn’t lifting its left leg quite fast enough. Left felt a drag there. Master left is also pulling too much to the right. Her left trace should be one hole shorter please."

"Middle?"

"Uh, master middle will lift its left leg faster. Did right feel a drag too?"

"Right?"

"Master just a bit. Nothing to bother about."

"Middle or right feel they were pulling to the side?"

As one, Joanne and Suhanee said "No-master."

"Does the pony feel ready to go three laps?"

As one, "Yes-master!" with smiles. I wiped their faces, popped their bits back in, and led them in circles to get them loose again.

"Are you thinking?" Three nods. "Of course you are, you’re happy. But you will be able to be happy without thought, you don’t need to bother with thinking. You cannot ‘think’ about not thinking, you just have to let that happen to you. Good pony."

Then back in the cart, ready on the line, that explosive start again, but a light back tug once to keep them at some rate less than an all-out gallop. After the second lap it became apparent that even this over-energized pony could be driven too fast, and we did the third lap at a fast canter. Since the pony had never tried anything but slow trot or top speed, a canter was new and took some experimenting. By the backstretch the pony had sorted itself out and smoothed to an effortless gait.

Clipping along. It felt as though the pony could do this for hours. Fast enough to put a wind in my face, fast enough to waft the smells of its heated three-part body back to me, but not the all-out go-for-broke dash of that first circuit. This was a pace the whole pony seemed made for. We didn’t stop after the third lap but went another, then stopped briefly so I could snag the hamper, then kept up that pace all the way home. I got a lot of practice trying to avoid obstacles coming up quickly, and was surprised at how fast oncoming teams went by us.

We reined up at the stable, I hopped out, found Jappala and hugged her. "Jappala, can you drive a troika?"

"I have done a few times, master"

"Get in the cart." She did so. "Take the reins, just one jiggle to start, then over to the short oval. I want to show you what we have here." Jappala hopped right back out of the cart, with a scandalized frown.

"Master! I cannot ride while you walk. You take them to the oval, master, I will trot beside." In my enthusiasm I had forgotten the proprieties. Island life was exceedingly informal, but even here there were things one just did not do.

"Very well, Jappala. I do not mind, but you are right, it wouldn’t be seemly." I got my panting pony started again and went down the lane to the small oval, Jappala trotting easily alongside me. Once there I got out and she in, she held the reins without much concern, then flipped them softly. The pony took off around the oval at its trot, then another flip and it cantered, and finally another flip and off they went. Jappala held on through the first turn and then hauled back, dropping the pace to a trot, and returned. Her eyes were very wide.

"Well, how did that go?"

"Master, I almost lost control! It is so fast! I was scared! Oh, master."

"Faster than most teams of ponies?"

"Ever so much faster, master. I had no idea."

"Can this pony win races?"

"Master I should think so. But I have never driven a really fast team before. Maybe I am just impressed by being in the cart. No, not that, the pony is really fast. And this is a heavy training cart, not a real racing rig."

"Well, now we all feel good. Let’s walk back, the pony has had quite enough exercise for one day." We walked back, Jappala leading with the reins clenched in her little fist, looking ever so proud. When we reached the stables it was late in the day.

"Jappala, unharness them and lead them home. The hard part of their training is over. Tomorrow we start on the really hard part, control at speed. They deserve a night off."

"Yes, master!"

A while later, I was on the porch with Malua looking things over and chatting, when Jappalla came up with all three girls. They were in sarongs, their hair brushed and gleaming, flowers over ears. They were walking together, arms behind, hands clasped together, hips and shoulders touching. Jappala spoke:

"Master, the pony wants to know if it is out of training now, if it can speak?"

"Yes. I gave it the night off." Then, in a simultaneous voice, they said:

"Master, I wish to spend my night off... here. If that is allowed. I like being here in the stables, with you and Malua, and I want to keep my parts together. Please?"

Well well… "Pony, you can do exactly as you please. I thought two of your parts might want to go home, but you can stay here, together or apart, as you wish." They all three looked uncomfortable.

"M- master, excuse me. It is, is... easier if you decide for me. I... I am... It is not right to make my own decisions. It makes me feel less like your pony. Please, master?" Well well well well. Malua was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"Pony, you will stay here tonight. But Jappala will first lead you to her house, you will spend a little time with middle’s parents, then go to Cynthia’s house on your own and spend time there, then come back here on your own. You may speak, all parts together, on the way. But the middle part will try to speak alone when you are in Jappala’s house, and the left part try to speak alone in Cynthia’s house. If that is too difficult for you, speak together. Respond to the middle and left part’s ‘names’. Hold hands at all times. Remember you are just parts of a single pony. Go."

They looked much happier, and went, with Jappala holding on.

"Jim, what have you been doing with them? That’s not how ponies usually act when they’re off."

"I’ve been making them into a real team. Their physical bondage has brought on a mental joining as well, they don’t want to be apart. It shouldn’t last, they will become able to operate as individuals eventually, but for now it’s a good sign. They are getting to be a single pony."

"I see. It’s different. We don’t train that way. You are flying in the face of a lot of tradition."

"Is tradition that strong? You, and I should say ‘we’ now shouldn’t I, we aren’t a superstitious or ignorant or particularly religious people, and tradition shouldn’t be that important. Tell me about it, please."

"Pony racing is about as traditional as we get. It has been going on for such a long time, and is so much a part of our lives - heavens, it was most of my life until a little while ago, and of all the girls I know. Ponies are expected to act certain ways, do certain things, live in certain ways. Your ponies are deviating... It’s hard to say. They are certainly acting like very proper ponies when in harness, except for their strange ‘four-legged’ gait. Your training methods aren’t any harsher than many other owners’ - some of them use more training and punishment harness than you do, and some of them keep their ponies continually in stables for longer periods than yours have been, but... But you are doing something different with them. Making them act completely the same, speaking as one, always linked together. And being so gentle with them at night, putting them to sleep on your lap. You don’t use physical punishment much, it’s more mental, and more about getting them to try very hard because they want to please you, and to stop thinking for themselves and regarding themselves as individuals. Jim, I just don’t know. Unless someone physically harms their pony, there are no rules. Ponies have to be controlled and disciplined, everyone expects that, and only causing harm is a basis for interfering. Ponies are free to walk away at any time after their day is over, nobody is forcing them to be the way they are. Except our society, I guess. I could have walked away from Mr. Franz and the stimulation harness after the first day, but what would I have done? Joined the few other girls who aren’t ponies... Well, that’s a long non-answer to your question. You aren’t violating tradition, but you are doing something different and our culture doesn’t often run into ‘different’ things. Your ponies seem to be thriving, as a team you all are much better than I’d have thought you possibly could be in just two weeks. Maybe you are just showing us something we should have known a long time ago - a team is a better team if it’s not a ‘team’ but integrated into one thing.

"We could talk to my father, he’s the chief and everyone thinks he’s very wise. Even I do, and he’s just ‘daddy’ to me."

"What would we tell him? Other than that I want to marry you?"

"What did you say?"

"What would we tell him... Ouch!" She’d hit me, hard. "Oh, the other thing? Don’t I need his permission to marry you?"

"You need MY permission, you ninny."

"Will you marry me?"

"Maybe."

"Did I say it wrong? I’m an ignorant foreigner, ma’m, unaccustomed to your ways."

"That excuse is getting worn out, Jim. You asked fine, but you surprised me. A proper proposal is preceded by some softening up and letting a girl get ready. It must be the same in England."

"No, we just hit them on the head and drag them home. Ouch!"

"My answer to your blunt question is maybe, which means yes-but. The but is because we have some things still to work out. And because we don’t rush into things that fast, here."

"Fast? We’ve known each other two whole weeks, I know all your inner secrets, you know a few of mine, I know I love you and I think you love me."

"You don’t know all my inner secrets, just some trivial ones. Yes I do love you. But what we have to work out is going to take at least another week. Until after the races."

"What do the races have to do with us getting married?"

"Jim, think. Can we still have your team and my team if we’re married?"

"Oh." That was something that would have to be worked out. Malua had a team she was very proud of. So did I. But hell, I was in love with a third of my team and in lust with the other two thirds. It would be unthinkable to... I didn’t want to think about it. "Oh."

"Yes. And that’s not all. A family has to have a house and stable. We don’t have that yet. The way it works is that a couple’s friends get together and build the house, then the stable, then the couple gets married."

"That’s just procedure. Can’t we agree to get married now, then have the races, then build our house, then have the ceremony?"

"You are forgetting what the ceremony is. Before I can agree to marry you, I have to be pretty sure you can find me in the forest."

"Oh." This was ‘wake up Jim you dummy’ night. I wasn’t a fit husband in Malua’s eyes yet. I didn’t have enough friends to help me build our house, I had no store of favors to draw on, we had one too many teams between us, and my necessary skills as a tracker were very much in question. Well, at least the lass loved me.

"I think I see. You can’t answer my brash proposal because I’m not necessarily a worthy husband yet."

"You are the worthiest I’ve ever met. We won’t have any troubles at all. But you just have to be patient and let things happen. That’s something we do easily but OWs find ever so hard. Life has rhythms. You live with those rhythms. The time for us agreeing to marry isn’t here yet and the rhythm isn’t right."

"I have to take your word for it, I can’t even feel these mysterious rhythms."

"You can, Jim. You do. That’s what you’ve been doing, excellently, for two weeks with your ponies. You are making some new waves, but all in the rhythm of our life. Now, let’s go talk to my dad about these new waves. And don’t worry about asking him for permission to marry me. I’d be a terrible daughter if I hadn’t set that up long ago."

"When?"

"About a day after we met. You don’t think I was going to let others get a chance at you, did you?"

"MINX! You won’t marry me but you won’t let me marry anyone else? Or even let them get close?"

"And how would you describe Suhanee if not ‘close’? Not to mention Judy and that innocent young Joanne? No, I just let dad know what was up, and maybe he let some other people know, but that’s his business."

"I’m starting to get the feeling that ever since I woke up on that beach my life has been out of my control."

"That started before you woke up, silly. Mutt saw you drifting in clutching that wood thing and told me. When a new man shows up here, a wise girl acts quickly."

"What if I’d been ugly? Or mean, or just silly?"

"If you were really ugly I’d have left you on the beach. People from outside can’t find the way into our valley by themselves. And if I just didn’t like you, there are lots of other girls interested in new men. But I did like you, so we don’t need to worry about them."

"Are they pretty, these ‘other girls’? You have’t exactly had a lot of them coming around to meet me."

"You can find that out after we are safely married. IF we get married."

That gentle verbal sparring degenerated into kissing, then Malua insisted we go to her father.

Will Saunders was a busy man, not home often, because the Chief had things to do all over. We had chatted over several dinners, he had shown a keen interest in the war against the Japanese and what it meant for continued ‘exploration’ of the Pacific, and about long-range aircraft. Eventually the island would be rediscovered, probably by someone flying over it, and things would change, and he was making plans for that. But today we focused on the training of ponies, at which he was an acknowledged master. I explained what I was doing in some detail. He listened, asked questions, made some suggestions, and thought hard. He felt my methods were reasonable if unusual, the results promising, but the peculiar gait posed problems.

"Jim, as a judge I am simply not sure how to compare a team with your gait to a ‘normally’ gaited team. But there are no rules against it. I will talk to the other judges about it before the races, and each will decide how they will judge. You are running a risk, being different isn’t a good way to win, but you are clearly within custom."

I went back to the stables with Malua before bed. There my pony was, sitting with a guy and two gals I didn’t know. The pony was holding hands with itself so it was a single unit, and had just been saying something when I walked in.

"Oh, excuse me, I just came out to see if you were OK." Everyone stood up, I immediately said "Please, sit down, can I offer some wine?" while Malua greeted the other three by name. They indicated the wine jug already being passed around, and sat. We did too, on a tack box. My pony surprised me a bit by speaking first.

"Master, this is Tony and Irena and Julie. They are friends of my middle part, and my left part knows them too. This is Jim, my master, you all know his friend Malua." They did it remarkably well, all in unison.

"Glad to meet you. I’ve seen you once or twice in town when Malua and I were walking. I want to meet everyone here, but training this has been keeping me busy most evenings."

Irena answered: "Hello, Jim, we are all glad to meet the newest islander. We ran into Joanne and her friends on the path, holding hands. We hadn’t seen her for a while and came back with them. They’ve told us about how you train them to speak together and stay attached, and refer to themselves by position. It’s interesting. But she (pointing at Suhanee) won’t tell us her name, they all just say at once that she’s ‘the right part’."

"The right part is under orders not to refer to herself otherwise. They all are. Her name when she isn’t part of this pony is Suhanee. I had to convince these three independent-minded, wriggling and untrained young ladies to be a team, in much too little time. So I have them act this way, as a single unit. I make them say ‘I’, and think like one pony. It’s sort of working." From my pony came an indignant three-toned squawk.

"Master, I think it is working well. I can pull smoothly as one pony and I don’t wriggle much at all now."

"Yes, but we haven’t won anything… yet. We’ll know you’re good when that happens." Some chatter ensued, about how it was to talk in three-part harmony (hard) and did they stay together all the time (yes of course), and how was it being trained by me (all three blushed and said nothing, but smiled happily), did they eat together (exactly together, it’s really hard to all swallow at once). That generated mild disbelief and a slice of bread was broken in three.

"You three all have to put the bread in my mouths at the same time." they said in unison. Tony, Irena and Julie did that, then watched as four chews and a simultaneous swallow occurred.

"You really do do everything together, don’t you."

"Yes. I do everything together. I have to, otherwise I wouldn’t be one pony, would I?" Then the friends bid adieu, and I was intrigued to see that my pony had even worked out how to shake hands - Joanne brought out both of hers, her right clasped in Suhanee’s left and her left in Judy’s right hand, the ‘shakee’ took either of these combined hands in their hand and shook it.

"So, your evening on the town was all right, and Lelani and Cynthia were glad to see you?"

"Master... At first I felt strange walking like this, but it was fun. Many people stopped to say hello. Middle’s father wasn’t home. Middle’s mother and sisters thought I was ‘cute’, but they wondered why left and right wouldn’t talk, so I talked all together. I hope that was OK, master. Left’s aunt thought I was a little strange. But all my friends liked me this way. If I ever get to go out again I will have fun. But master - I like being here with you and Malua the best. May I take myself to the bathroom please or do I need to wait for you to take me?"

"You may take yourself. But of course you’ll do everything together."

"Of course, master. Thank you." Off they tripped. I had personally expanded the privy to a sociable three-holer the morning Joanne showed up. Soon they were back.

"Do you want to go to bed now, pony?"

"Oh yes, master, please. Master, can you and Malua stay with me?" I looked at my partner. She smiled, nodded, and said:

"Since you are not fastened, pony, you can be a little different. Why don’t Jim and I sit with our legs out, then right’s head on his lap, left’s head on mine, and middle in the middle. That way your heads can touch and you can still hold hands."

We did that. It was comfy, Suhanee’s head in its usual place - my crotch - Judy in the same position on Malua, and Joanne between us with her head in the valley between our hips. They looked a lot more feminine tonight, with the flowers in their hair, lips and nipples colored, bare to their low-slung sarongs. They clasped hands, then Suhanee took my right in hers, and Judy Malua’s left. Then Joanne spread her legs wide apart, reaching over Malua’s and my legs, to cross ankles with Judy and Suhanee who also spread. Their sarongs came open, but they didn’t seem to even notice.

"Do you like me this way, master?" with the slyest of smiles all around. Suhanee could already feel the answer. I looked down into their three faces, all making moues and pouting slightly now. I reached down with my free hand - my left - and put a finger in Suhanee’s mouth. Suhanee nursed on it like a little kitten. Malua looked at me, then reached her right hand out and did the same to Joanne. This left Judy, and clever Malua handled her by bending over a bit, her breasts brushed Judy’s face and Judy moved a bit to be able to take a nipple in her mouth. For a minute or so the only sounds to be heard were little wet sucks, then Malua and I turned and gave each other a long, pulsing kiss while the three heads watched. As our lips touched they squeezed our hands, and bit us. Not too hard. Malua jumped, Judy had bitten her too, on a tenderer place.

After the novelty of that wore off Joanne squirmed and turned over to lay on her tummy, propped on her elbows, and pushed at the other two heads to turn them and get their lips closer. Then my pony gave itself a nice long three-way kiss. Then back on her back, and they all three tried to look just as kissable as possible, making little kitty noises and licking their lips.

"Don’t we have hungy little kittens here. Jim, dear, I don’t think they mean me. Go ahead, I’ll watch.

Suhanee tasted just as sweet as I’d imagined she would. That one lasted until there was just a bit of wriggling, and I realized I couldn’t play favorites and keep my team together. So Joanne (tenderest lips imaginable) and Judy (long tongue) got equal time. Kissing, and admiring, was all I did. I was having another OW crisis, and I’d have to talk to Malua about that. The three pony-parts sprawled on our laps in various positions, then reknotted their sarongs and lay looking up.

"Master, may I ask some questions?"

"My, we have a talkative pony tonight. But of course you may, you aren’t in harness, this is your free time." Considerable looking and finger-pressing and mouthing of words went on between them, then:

"Master, will you train me very hard until the races?"

"Extremely hard, pony. I am determined to at least place highly if not win outright. That will require all your attention, all your stamina, all your speed and all your good looks. You will not get many nights off, if that’s what you were wondering about." The parts conferred silently again.

"Master, I was not worried about nights off. I need to be trained, trained as hard as you can, you and Jappala must make me behave correctly all the time. I want to make you proud of me, master, but… but I’m afraid I’m not ready yet. You... you must be strict with me, master. Very strict."

"I will be. What particular area do you most feel a need for strict training in, pony?"

"Master... (they looked at each other and appeared to be having a silent argument.) May I please have some time to think about that, master?"

"Take all the time you need." Malua and I went back to our program previously in progress, while my pony argued with itself.

"Master, some of my hands and arms still want to wriggle. They do it without me even thinking about it. Maybe you should secure my arms tightly?"

"We will see. What else?"

"Master, dressage. I need more practice prancing with my thighs way up, while you maneuver me through obstacles. I am not comfortable doing that yet."

"That’s right. We both need more practice doing that. I’m not a firm enough hand at the reins yet. And you will be strictly handled, never fear. We’ll start with posture harness #6 on you in the morning. And I’ll let Japalla tighten them as she sees fit - usually I tell her to ‘go easy’ on you." A shudder ran through all three bodies. Whether it was an expression of dread, delight, or a mix, I wasn’t sure.

"Thank you, Master. Master..."

"Yes?"

"Master, after the races... do you think you will keep us, master?" Before I could say anything, Malua cut in.

"Pony, you know that that is a highly improper question. Ponies are not consulted about their assignments, and they are the last to find out if those assignments change. Appologize immediately."

"Master, oh. Oh, I’m sorry, master. I lost my head - heads. Please forgive my silly question. I need stronger discipline."

"You will get it. But for tonight there is no discipline, I told you that you had the night off and I meant it. I do not mind silly questions, but of course I’ll not answer them. Malua, can I forgive them?"

"You may do as you wish, dear. In your place I would give them a bit that would remind them all day to watch their questions carefully."

"Perhaps I shall. Pony, you may continue asking questions or talking."

"Malua, may I ask what you think of me? Can my master and I do well?"

"Hmm. I haven’t seen you work very much. You give the impression of an excellent team from what I have seen. You are quite pretty. Yes, you could do well. But you are up against me and my monkeys, don’t forget that. Jim, what have you done about show harnesses for them?"

"I’ve been talking to Lelani. It’s ticklish, good harnesses cost a lot of favors and I’m already in debt for the middle part and the right part. But Lelani wants her daughter’s team to show well, and she thinks she can get something special together."

"That’s good news. Lelani’s family is the Owens, and they make the best harnesses. She has a lot of unmarried sisters who may agree to help. We also need to go to the other end of the island to get that racing rig I mentioned. Hey, let’s go tomorrow morning! I will take you, with this pony trotting behind, then it can pull you back in a real racing cart."

"Malua, how am I going to afford a new cart? I’m up to my nose in favors owed now."

"This is to borrow, not to keep. The owners are good friends of mine, you can have it free."

Then we chatted, then I told some stories, then Malua sang, then the pony sang. In actual three-part harmony, Suhanee was an alto while the other two had good soprano voices. Malua was impressed, went to get her guitar, and the pony practiced on some more songs. I joined in as bass. We might not win the cup, but we would do well in an amateur night sing-along.

After enough wine the pony went to sleep in its own arms. Instead of lying on their backs the girls could spoon, and that’s how they drifted off. Malua and I sat there, resting contentedly.

"Malua, dear, here’s another question that would get my head ripped off in the OW. Tell me if I’m out of bounds, OK?"

"Sure Jim, but there’s so little we don’t talk freely about."

"It’s about Joanne."

"What about her?"

"You know I’m attracted to Suhanee and Judy. The thing is that Joanne’s a deuced cute little thing too, and a pony just like the others..."

"Yes? You’re attracted to her, too? Sigh. A girl just expects these things, but I do hope you don’t keep on getting a crush on each new female you meet. There are far too many of us here."

"Well it’s not quite that. I mean yes I am attracted. That’s the problem. Malua, she’s just turned 18."

"And?"

"In my world... I mean in the OW, men just don’t go getting attracted to young girls. It isn’t done."

"What do you mean? Are OW girls ugly, there - when they are 18? Or haven’t they matured yet?"

"No, no, I think they mature at about the same age. It’s just that 18 year-olds are thought to be too young and inexperienced to become intimate - with boys their own age, and particularly with older men. Isn’t done. Not proper." (My nervousness about this was making me sound just like Col. Blimp.)

"Oh for heaven’s sake. "Inexperienced"? How is a girl to gain experience? Here, we just do things. That’s what experience is."

"Yes, I know. The attitude towards physical matters, and emotional ones, is so different here. My problem is that I look at Joanne as just as much a woman as Suhanee - Suhanee’s 19, Judy’s 20. I’m 32, twice Suhanee’s age. But I also see Joanne as a 18-year-old, and people that age are just off limits."

"Look. When you see me you like what you see. Right?" I nodded enthusiastically. "And the same with Suhanee. And Judy. With me that’s a mutual ‘like’, and it has resulted in a good deal of pleasurable physical and emotional give-and-take. With your pony-girls, it’s more abstract so far, you like looking at them but you don’t do much. And I don’t think they want you to ‘do’ much, not yet. They are intoxicated with you, they practically worship you - especially Joanne - they like exposing themselves to you, but they expect the physical side to develop slowly. They want to kiss you, and have you feel their bodies, and I bet they wriggle when you take them to the bathroom and wipe them. But that’s flirting. They expect to flirt with you. Maybe for a long time. Unless I miss-read them, they don’t particularly want intimate relations yet. We like to let relationships grow slowly."

"Like you and me, bingo the first time we met?"

"Attraction is one thing. Being fully intimate is another."

"So it is, sigh, so it is. But you have the most inventive ways of being ‘partially’ intimate."

"And so do your ponies. What I think you’re asking is, ‘is Joanne too young for you to pay attention to’? And what I’m trying to tell you is that your version of ‘attention’ is different than ours. You are already paying very intimate attention to Joanne. Putting harnesses on her, making her bend to your will, controlling her all day long, dictating almost every move she makes, fondling her, and even taking her to the toilet. And she’s completely smitten with you, she gets all starry-eyed when you’re in the room.

"You might expect that to lead directly to ‘intercourse’, but it doesn’t, here. It’s rhythms, Jim. There’s a rhythm in your relation to your ponies, and you have to work with the rhythm. It may lead to further intimacies, or you may get much too familiar for that, or you may drift apart that way. You won’t drift apart physically, your three ponies are yours unless you decide to get rid of them - together or separately. Or until you marry someone who already has a team, then our rules say that something has to happen. But the ponies have no say in the matter at all, and that’s another important part of our culture. For the 12 hours each weekday that they are ponies, they have no control over their lives, no choice. For the rest of the time their lives are completely their own. Unless some cruel master is keeping them in stables all the time..."

"Well, I’ll have to work out my conflicts about Joanne on my own."

"No, dear. I’m sorry, but it hasn’t sunk in yet. You and Joanne will work out your, Jim’s, ‘conflicts’ together. We never do anything alone. No human being can, but maybe we are much more honest about it. The rhythm of life here is always people working on things together. Mac told us once about the OW’s ‘hermits’ and ‘rugged individualists’ who withdraw from society. We can’t understand that. We have to live together; there’s no place else to go, and we’ve learned how to live together. And maybe forgotten how to live apart." I knew what Malua was saying. I’d seen it all around me since the first day here. I had a similar social background from being on ships; nobody does things alone on a ship, not even the Captain. But I didn’t know it yet, so I kept making slips like assuming a more intimate relationship with Joanne could develop. And these ‘rhythms’ that Malua kept bringing up were invisible to me. I spent a restless night grappling with rhythms, getting nowhere.