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Just before six I walked over to the main house and knocked on the kitchen door. Bill called out for me to come on in. I stepped inside and saw Colleen putting the food on the table. Bill was standing to one side talking to a man that I assumed was Sam. Bill motioned me over. ‘Sam, this is Carson, the new hand I was telling you about. At least for today. We’ll see how he feels about it tomorrow after a days work,’ Bill said with a broad grin. ‘Carson, this here’s Sam.’ Sam gave me a beaming smile and stuck out his hand. He was a big man. At least six foot three and like Bill, looked like he had worked hard all his life. He appeared to be about the same age as Bill. One other thing, he was African American. I shook his hand and could feel the strength in his grip. ‘Well, young man, lets hope you like it here. I could use the help,’ he said. I guess at twenty eight I was about half his age so he considered me to be young. ‘I plan to give it my best shot,’ I replied. Just then Colleen. The bars, the parties with the painted girls- dresses tight- eyes and mouths spilling promises and lies. She ached to feel him inside her, his liquor tainted breath on her neck, and felt unable to endure the time it took for him to walk the woods path to the house. Her hands slid down from her belly and across the soft rise of neatly trimmed hair. Each movement of her fingers sending pulses of pleasure through her body. It seemed an eternity before the dogs gave him up, each one stopping along the path for just one last pet, each as greedy as she for his affections. As the dogs settled in together up against the house, he crossed the room. He could see on her face a small smile that told him that she had been waiting for him. Kneeling up to meet him with her arms encircling his neck- she drew him in with each breath. He kissed her forehead and her eyes and she breathed. He kissed her neck and ran his cold hands up against the small of her back his fingers tracing the hollow groove.
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