In return I looked at her more clearly in silence. She wore a blue trimmed short sleeved white tunic, some kind of uniform perhaps, which was tailored...to her figure ending three or so inches below her crotch. The white stood out against the soft tone of her skin.Gently she stroked her own thigh, seemingly in deep thought, then silently she held a hand out to me. Her eyes wide in invitation. I didn't know what to do but step towards her.As I moved she turned her back and leaned away from me over. The answer to “How is he?” got a sad look in her face. “I’m sorry for the news. I liked him a lot when he worked here.”She cleaned up and led me to the farmhouse for some strong tea and cookies. We visited a bit then she said, “If you wish to talk more you must go with me while I do chores.” I helped where I could, my first introduction to farm life. I learned that she only had a high-school formal education but had a PHD (piled higher and deeper) in growing hay and grazing cattle in OK.Just as. More

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