Georgie had recently acquired a job at Dominic Toretto's garage as a secretary. She was American, but she had a tall, lean, tan French body with some 'extra' attributes. Her hair was an icy mocha that was beautiful, silky, and straight as a board. Her eyes were brown as well, but a dark, soft, and enchanting brown.

She had stopped in at Mia's diner to buy a few supplies, and asked for a job – which led her to Dominic. She seemed neat, organized, and professional enough for the job. Things were a mess. It was hell trying to get the place back in order.

"Whoa," Mia spoke as she entered the office, "I've never seen the top of the desk before."

Dom entered and looked around, "It looks bigger…"

"It is.. I got rid of most of the junk that was lying around, boxes, credit card offers; that were shredded into a million little pieces," Georgie smiled, happy of her work.

"So where did you work before this?" Mia asked.

"A stable." Georgie said blankly.

"What kind of stable?"

"Mostly Hunters, Eventers, and Dressage Horses."

"What did you do there?"

"Grooming, Trainers Aid, and of course, Management."

"Have you been riding long?"

"All my life."

"So why are you working here?" Mia was confused; it seemed like the horse industry was good money.

Georgie hesitated, "Conflict. I'm only 20. Years ago I wanted to do Eventing, but mom and dad said no. I was invited to be a junior Olympian in the Dressage ring, but insufficient funds are a bitch. So I parted with riding and found I had better use on the ground."

"Junior Olympics? Hun, you're in the wrong business."

"I like it here," She smirked "Cars don't bite, kick, buck or rear. It's pretty safe as long as you know what you're doing."

"Good Point."

Georgie had a flash back of her magnificent gray gelding. His name was Good Point. He was the one who helped her qualify for the Junior Olympics. She sighed and came back to reality.

"Are you busy tonight?" Mia asked her, a small gleam in her eye.

"No – why?"

"Meet me at the house at 9 – no later. If there's a 'later', we'll be gone…"

"We'll?"

"Never mind it, my house; at nine!"

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