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- >It's been a long while since you've seen your children
- >All you really know is that they've been being looked after by their great-gram
- >Wasn't your first choice
- >But you were far too young when you had your first
- >You really should have stopped at your second
- >And then years later you slipped up and had a third
- >That was the final straw, really
- >You and Scrumpy both tried your hardest
- >But you were too young to properly look after your kids
- >Life was hard
- >And things started being said that ought never have been said
- >You heard she was married now
- >Living in the big city
- >Changed her name to Marmalade or something
- >And while it had been a long time
- >You never could quite forget your kids the way she had
- >Having missed so much of their lives already
- >You didn't want to miss any more
- >So one day you sent a letter out to the farm
- >Asking granny if maybe they had a spare room you could stay in
- >Practically begging to help out around the place if it meant you could spend time with your family
- >And to your surprise
- >They said you'd be welcome
- >So with a couple of bags packed with the bare necessities you took the train out to their small town
- >Followed a few simple directions to find the farm
- >And there it was
- >A picture of idyllic rural beauty
- >The house, the barn, the fields of crops and the famous apple trees
- >Sweet Apple Acres
- >And as if stepping out of your memory, leaning against the gate was your teenage love
- >Long blonde hair
- >Thighs to die for
- >Tanned skin speckled with freckles
- >And a rough-and-tumble country-girl demeanour
- >She smiles as you approach, and your stomach does somersaults
- >But as you draw closer you recognise your mistake
- >Her skin looks just a touch darker
- >Her hair just that little bit more blonde
- >And of course, most obviously, eyes that are green and not blue
- >"Hi there, sugar!" comes the call
- >"We've been expectin' a visitor to roll up our drive any moment,"
- >"I'm guessin' you're the sweetheart that wrote Granny askin' to help out around here?"
- >"Real nice a' ya'll, given how growin' season's just endin' and we always bite off more'n' we can chew getting every crop in on time."
- >"You must be beat carryin' your bags all this way. C'mon, give 'em here and i'll show you where you'll be stayin'."
- >She doesn't quite give you the chance to get a word in
- >Simply hops the fence, strides straight for you and grabs your bags, oozing confidence in every motion
- >And while your eyes tell you this has to be a girl in her late teens, she seems to have the world right where she wants it
- >That self assurance makes her seem like she must be early twenties at least
- >This can't be your daughter
- >Can it?
- >Those glances you steal at her firm, denim-clad buttocks as she leads you up to the farmhouse can't be that horribly wrong
- >... can they?
- >Your gaze lingers on those ample hips as they sway up the path to the front door
- >Perhaps just a slight bit too long
- >Because when she turns back to you, she has the suggestion of a coy grin playing about the corners of her mouth
- >Not to mention the knowing look in her eye
- >It could just be your imagination
- >Maybe you snapped your gaze up in time
- >"Don't speak much, do ya'?"
- >Desperate to break the ice, you chuckle like a nervous teenager
- "Might be I would if you let me get a word in edgeways, darlin'"
- >For a moment, she looks at you with a blank look in her eyes
- >And then her mouth explodes into an infectious smile, a musical laugh of her own
- >"Ain't I just been the most overbearin' hostess?"
- >"Dragged you all the way up the garden path without even lettin' you answer all the questions i've been firin' your way!"
- >"So, have I got it wrong? Don't tell me, you're just a lost tourist whose bags i've made off with?"
- >For a moment you're tempted to play along
- >Make up some reason why you were wandering a country lane looking for your hotel
- >But you decide against it
- "No, you've got the right of it. I wrote to granny asking if I could help out this harvest, and she said the house had room for me."
- >Your guide is still all smiles at that, opening the door into a cozy kitchen and leading you to a set of narrow stairs
- >"Shoot, Sweet Apple Acres always has room for a hand that wants to work, sugarcube."
- >She talks away as you ascend to a corridor with a number of doors along it
- >As far as you can make out, this floor has six rooms
- >Your irrepressible guide knocks on the one closest to the top of the stairs
- >"This here is the bathroom. The rule is knock before entering, easiest thing in the world to remember."
- >"That over there-"
- >She points to the door furthest from the stairs
- >"-is the guest room where you'll be staying."
- >"Every other door is somebody else's room, so just be considerate."
- >"Now, unless your journey was really exhausting we already have work for you to be doing."
- >"So whaddaya' say, pops, need an afternoon nap to recover, or are you raring to go?"
- >At 'pops,' your stomach gives another, slightly more unpleasant lurch
- >You realise that you've been suppressing your suspicion that this might be your daughter
- >You worry that she might already know
- >Might have caught you out
- >Might hate you
- >But at the same time, if she's not...
- >Well, getting to know your kids is the real reason you're out there
- >Better men than you have been tempted by less
- >So you ought to try and make a good impression, just on that chance
- >You're still in your early thirties for chrissakes
- >And not in bad shape at that
- >Can't let her think you're ancient
- "Just give me a second to set my bags down, and i'll be ready to go."
- >She beams
- >"Knew we'd snagged a hard worker," she says, handing you your bags. "I'll be waiting down by the door in the kitchen."
- >You smile, nodding your thanks as you move to squeeze past her on the stairs
- >When suddenly she's right against you
- >You can feel her breasts, barely constrained by her button-up blouse pressing against your chest
- >Your back is right up against the bannister
- >Her hair tickles your nose and her warm breath reaches your ear as she leans in to whisper
- >"Take your time and hit the shower first, eh sweetheart? I don't mind, but if you're distracted all afternoon we won't get half the work done."
- >And with that, she slips downstairs, and you can breathe again
- >Holy fuck
- >You need that shower
- >You cross the landing in a few short steps
- >Crack open the guest room door
- >See a simple double bed, a couple of low tables, a stout desk, wardrobe and a set of shelves with some tasteful knick-knacks on
- >It's pretty tasteful, actually
- >Comfy
- >But you have something else on your mind
- >Quickly rifling through your bags, you snatch up your towel and nip back across to the bathroom
- >Hanging up your rag, you slip out of your shirt and pants
- >You catch a quick look at yourself in the little face-mirror
- >Broad shoulders
- >A respectable amount of definition
- >And green eyes burning in a square-jawed face
- >Your thoughts immediately go to the country beauty that met you
- >Those fine, tanned legs
- >That powerful frame
- >And those full, firm C-cups she pressed right against you to whisper confidentially in your ear
- >As you jump in the shower and the water starts to run, you imagine what they must be like to squeeze
- >How they must taste
- >What their nips must look like
- >And your mind racing for inspiration, you think back to another country girl
- >It's been almost two decades
- >But you still remember how hard she rode you on your parents' bed
- >They were away for the weekend and you had the place to yourself
- >You still remember how hormonal teenage lust drove you to pump her fit, flat belly full of your seed
- >Is it the shampoo, or can you still smell her?
- >She smelled of apples
- >And when you kissed you could taste the cider she'd lifted from her family's stores
- >You can see her right in front of you
- >Her mouth lolling open
- >Her gasps and moans filling the room
- >Her lively green eyes meeting yours as she comes in for another kiss against the bannister
- >And you're done
- >You take a moment to clean off
- >Switch off the water
- >And as you dry off, you fancy you hear a stair creak
- >These old houses always sort of gave you the creeps
- >You throw your clothes back on, and slip out of the bathroom
- >Heading down the creaking stairs, you see your guide at the kitchen table
- >Still waiting
- >Is it your imagination, or does she look a little flustered?
- >Probably your imagination
- >It's running pretty wild today
- "Didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?"
- >Her lips purse, and for the briefest moment looks about as if expecting to see someone peeping in through a window
- >And before you really even have time to analyse this shift in tone, she's back to her cheerful self
- >"Not at all, buckaroo. Ready to head out? Still not too late to reconsider if you're too feeble for it."
- >She teases you with a grin, and you return it with a smirk of your own
- "So long as you carry me to wherever we'll be working, sweetheart, i'll be fine."
- >She snorts
- >"Not a chance, darlin'. You got legs, time to use 'em."
- >With that, she leads you out of the house and towards the apple orchards
- >You banter back and forth as she points out landmarks to help you find your way during your stay
- >And at one point, she even mimes carrying you
- >Though you're pretty sure that was just her excuse to cop a feel
- >And after maybe twenty minutes walk, you come to a grove of trees with a cart already half-full of apple bushels
- >You aren't wondering who filled it long
- >Because when your partner calls; "Hey Mac! I brought the hand out!" a tall young man lumbers into view
- >There's no mistaking him
- >With his broad shoulders
- >His square jaw
- >Those green eyes
- >And even his name
- >That's your son
- >He drops his cargo of apples down in the cart
- >Looks you up and down with a shocking intensity
- >Stares right into your face
- >And turns away, back to his work
- >The sweet country girl elbows you in the ribs, jostling you amicably
- >"Don't mind Mac," she says
- >"He doesn't take to anybody right away."
- >"Let me show you how we bring in the crop."
- >She walks you up to a tree with low-hanging fruit
- >"Now, just ta' demonstrate, a'fore we take any apples from a tree we got to check they're ripe."
- >Standing behind you and pressing her chest against your back, she guides your hand to one of the lowest sitting apples
- >"To test, you've got to cup the fruit gently," she murmurs, posing your hand beneath the apple
- >"Lift it just a touch," she breathes, and you know there's no way she doesn't know what she's doing, "And just give it the slightest lil' twist."
- >"It should come pretty easily," she says huskily, "But if it's not ready we gotta' keep from using so much force that we damage the poor things."
- >And sure enough, having been led through those simple movements, you now have an apple in your hands
- >She pulls away, and is instantly businesslike
- >"Just pull down as many as you can for now, if any are bruised store 'em away from the others. We can eat those, but they don't store."
- >It's long hours of hard work in the hot early-autumn afternoon
- >Little Mac isn't so little any more
- >And even though he seems to be giving you the cold shoulder, you can't help but be proud
- >He's an obvious hard worker, and looks fitter and healthier than pretty much anyone else you've ever seen
- >And no amount of sullen silence can take that feeling from you
- >Just as the evening starts to draw in, darkening the sky, the three of you finish filling the cart
- >You're about to ask how it moves when Big Mac heads to the front to grab one of two jutting handles
- >Your sweet country lass moves up to the other, and you follow behind curiously
- >She turns to you
- >"Now, seeing as how it's your first day, sugarcube, why don't you ride up there with the ap-"
- >Big Mac interrupted her by placing one of his large hands on her shoulder
- >He shakes his head emphatically, nods at her, and jerks his thumb back to the applecart
- >He looks straight at you, points, and then indicates the other handle
- >She gives him a look of real bafflement for a moment, as if this kind of action is uncharacteristic
- >Almost as if he almost never exerts his will like this
- >But after a moment, she shrugs
- >"Well, if you say so."
- >"Mac says he thinks you two big strong men oughta' give me a ride back to the barn, and who am I to complain?"
- >She gives you a half apologetic and half provocative look
- >"So long as you're up for it?"
- >With such a challenge issued, you can't back down
- "'course i'm up for it."
- >You take up your half of the cart, and set off towards the barn
- >Mac handles the cart like it's nothing, barely breaking a sweat
- >While you, not being used to this kind of farm work, have to live with your muscles screaming at you every step of the way
- >It takes every single ounce of your will not to make a sound as you push yourself to keep up with your son
- >And when you reach the homestead and stow the cart, he looks straight at you one more time before retreating into the house
- >As soon as he's gone, you allow yourself to collapse onto the straw-covered barn floor, chest heaving as you pant to recover your breath
- >Your pretty cargo hops out of the cart and is at your side in seconds
- >"Lord sakes, pops, if you were this beat you oughta' just said you weren't up to it,"
- >It hurts to laugh, but you do anyway
- "Couldn't let him embarrass me,"
- "Besides, we had to deliver the princess to her castle."
- >You chuckle painfully, and she looks down at you as if she can't quite believe you would dare to be that corny
- >And then bends down to give you a quick kiss on the lips
- >It's short, but sweet - even if her long hair does tumble down into your face
- >"There you are then, brave knight. One lady's favour."
- >"But get up off the floor for chrissake. It's filthy"
- >Having had a few moments, your breath is well and truly back
- >You're still reeling a touch from the kiss
- >Even if it was only given in jest, she seems to be signalling her interest pretty hard
- >God, you really hope she's just another helper like yourself
- >Could it be your boy was hoping she and Mac could be a thing, and that's why he's been giving you the third degree?
- >No
- >Your flirting can't have been that obvious, surely
- >But if not that, did he recognise you?
- >He was far and away the oldest when you had to give them all up
- >He'd have the best, clearest and most current picture of you in his head
- >The girls' memories would be patchier
- >Whatever the case, you'd have to clear the air with him at some point
- >"Y'alright down there, pardner?"
- >Your companion nudges you in the side with one of her big boots
- >Not quite a kick, but not quite... not
- >"Look like you're wrestlin' with the meanin' of life or somethin'."
- >"I weren't kiddin' about the floor being twenty shades of awful."
- "Yeah, sorry, was being a bit of a drama queen, wasn't I?"
- >She grins as you stagger to your feet, mostly recovered from your ordeal
- >"Drama king, maybe, but I know worse examples. Just wanted to remind you you've got a nice bed upstairs, don't have to rest in the stables like some head of cattle."
- >"Get some rest, sugar, you've earned it, but keep an ear out for the dinner bell. Shouldn't be long."
- >She borderline-pushes you over towards the house, sending you on your way with a slap on the rump
- >At this point, you're too tired to argue
- >You clamber up the stairs and hear water going in the bathroom
- >It's probably Mac making the best of it after a long day's work
- >Fine by you
- >You could do with a lie down more than a shower, right this minute
- >Opening your room's door, you go to collapse on the bed
- >-only to find that somebody's already in it
- >Three persons, to be exact
- >A gang of girls in their early teens are going through your things
- >And for a moment you're not sure exactly how to respond
- >More than just a moment, actually
- "What's this about? Why are you guys going through my stuff?"
- >They all look at you like deer in the headlights
- >And for almost ten whole seconds, none of them have an answer
- >Not the tanned one with a bright purple dye-job
- >Not the pale one with the platinum-blonde mop
- >Or the middle-ground with bright red hair and a bow
- >The dye-disaster is the first to speak up
- >"Well, mister, we were just checking to see you weren't bringing anything dangerous into the house."
- >The pale one rushes to collaborate, voice twanging adorably
- >"Yeah! You can't be too careful, you know? What if your bag had been tampered with?"
- >You're not quite sure, but you reckon there's some irony there
- >But the bow-clad ringleader speaks up eventually
- >"'sides, it's a project for school. We awl gawtta find an unexpected talent, and baggage handling is as unexpected as we could think'a!"
- >You groan
- >It's really not worth fighting them over
- >And you're a guest here
- "Look, whatever, just... leave my stuff alone, hey? Respect of people's privacy is a two-way street, and i'm not about to barge into any of your rooms."
- >The three sort of just look relieved that you're not shouting
- >With a muted look amongst themselves for consensus, they dash for the door
- >Possibly worried that you might consider them for more significant reprimands if they stick around
- >"Sorry, mister!"
- >"Sorry mister."
- >"Sorry, mister."
- >Just like that, they're gone
- >And you're free to crash onto your rumpled bedding
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