It was early and the small bedroom was dark and cold when she awoke. Fall weather seemed to be coming early this year. Looking at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock she saw it would be going off in just a few minutes, so she got out of bed.
In the kitchen she fumbled through the heap of dirty dishes in the sink and pulled out a coffee mug. After blasting it with hot water under the faucet, she found only half a spoonful of instant coffee was left in the jar on the cluttered counter top and mumbled soft curses about having to do the morning chores while only half awake. It would not be the first time.
Zipping herself into some worn brown coveralls and tying her long thick dark wavy hair in a yellow bandanna, she stepped out onto the porch of the tiny cottage and pulled on a pair of floppy rubber work boots.
Walking through the early morning darkness, she saw a few warm lights were on in the big house across one of the pastures, but her destination was a single point of harsh blue light, the mercury vapor lamp mounted high on the gable of the horse barn.
The usual morning of feeding and watering the horses, and then turning them out of their stalls. Some neighbor kid would muck the stalls out later in the day, a task he did in exchange for riding lessons.
"Hey Julia, I heard you teach barrel racing," he had said to her one day, and asked how much she charged for lessons.
"You need more experience riding first," she said.
Somehow over the few years she had lived at the farm, she had become the barrel racing instructor. No one ever stuck with it for long, but teaching was always a good way to pick up extra cash. Otherwise barrel racing had never been kind to her, despite trying so hard to compete in what seemed like a long time ago.
Walking back to her cottage, the sky now starting to brighten, she smiled just a little bit, knowing that she would be meeting Steven later in the morning.
They had met last weekend at a festival that she attended every year. Julia had caught a brief glimpse of him and that was all she needed. The young man however, could not keep his eyes off of her.
....
Earlier in the week Steven had been flipping though radio stations on his drive home from the office when he was intrigued by a commercial on a country music station. It was for a festival a few miles outside of the city. Old machinery would be on display, and there would be homemade wines and live music. Having nothing better to do, on Saturday he took a drive outside the city limits to a remote corner of an adjacent county.
It seemed like there were hundreds of old tractors lined up in rows. He knew names like John Deere of course, but there were others here that had probably been out of business for over a hundred years. There was other farm equipment as well, though he couldn't have guessed what most of it was used for.
Some of the tractors and other equipment were rusty and broken as if they had been recently dragged from overgrown fields on an abandoned farm, while others were gleaming like restored museum pieces.
There was a monstrous steam powered tractor, looking a lot like an old locomotive, that was set up with a wide flat belt to power a dangerous looking sawmill. Steven had seen it running in the distance when he pulled in, but once he finally made his way to the exhibit, he found the giant circular saw blade had stopped, and the tractor was venting steam in places where it probably shouldn't.
A young man was looking out from the cab of the tractor and trying a few of the controls with a look of frustration on his face. A group of old men stood around, trying to give him advice or instruction. Then he saw her, a stunning brunette that might have been about his age, fearlessly standing close to the steaming boiler.
At this festival, Julia liked to dress up in her interpretation of an old fashioned country girl. A snug fitting flannel blouse and a knee length skirt made of ruffled tiered denim. She also wore a pair of black leather Victorian style ankle boots, with short chunky heels that were curved like the legs on an old piece of furniture.
One of the old men said something to her, and she walked gracefully through the trampled grass in her sexy ankle boots towards an old tool box that looked as if it had been made from scrap planks. She pulled out a massive wrench and walked back to hand it to the old man.
She gave some parting wisecrack to the young man at the controls and turned to walk away, her denim skirt whirling around her legs. Suddenly she changed course and walked right up to Steven.
"It's going to be a while until they get that fixed," she told him.
"Looks like your man is having some problems," Steven replied.
"I don't have a man right now, and if I did, it certainly wouldn't be him. That machine has been in his family forever, his grandpa and then his dad used to run it every year, but now his dad is too old and sick to make it here," she said. "You have to fire something like that up weeks in advance and get it working right. Not just show up with it and hope it runs."
"It sounds like I need to stick around because this might be the last chance I'll ever get to see it run" Steven said.
"Something like that. Is your wife or girlfriend willing to wait around all day?" she asked.
"My ex-girlfriend is out of state. Medical school. I'm Steven," he said.
"Julia," was her reply, with what might have been a slight forward thrust of her breasts.
The two had stood there for a moment, facing each other. It had been quickly established that they were both single and it was more than obvious that they found each other attractive, but the silence was starting to grow long and awkward. Steven was quick to not let that happen.
"I thought there was supposed to be homemade wine here," he said, glancing around as if looking for a vendor.
"They don't break that out until later," Julia told him. "Come with me. I know where we can get some right now." She led the way through the exhibits of old machinery.
"You do pretty well walking in those heels in the grass," he complimented.
"I love heels," she said. "Thanks for noticing."
"Those are cute boots. I hope I'm not coming across as some sort of pervert," Steven said shyly.
"If you have a boot fetish I'm okay with that," she said, but there was no more time for conversation as they had arrived at a grove of mature trees that was serving as a campground during the festival.
Julia walked up to an old school bus that had been painted a light brown and looked as if it had been converted into a camper of some sort. There was a group of older couples sitting in lawn chairs under a large roll-out awning. One looked like he was putting new strings on an electric guitar, and another was making some adjustments on a banjo. Almost all of them were holding a glass of wine or had one close at hand. She spoke quietly with one of the men, and then motioned for Steven to follow her inside the front door of the bus.
Steven was immediately impressed with the interior. While it would never rival any luxury RV, it was by no means a slapped together redneck's camper. The design of the cabinetry and built-in furnishings was simple yet the craftsmanship was high quality.
"Really nice," was all he could think of to say. He stopped by the driver's seat where several cases of wine bottles had been stacked.
"Daryl, the man I was talking to, did all the work himself. His wine is even better. Don't bother with that stuff," she told Steven who had pulled a bottle from one of the cases. "It's good, but I'll find something better in the private stock."
She went to the galley area and took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and set it on the counter while she looked for a corkscrew and two glasses. Steven eyed the label, Sauvignon Blanc. It had been run off on a home printer. There was the name of a small town that he knew was to the east, and what must have been a family name, which was something with two many syllables and probably of German origin.
"So are you with the band?" Steven asked as they sat on a couch in the front lounge area of the bus.
"No," Julia replied flatly. "I know Daryl's parents from when I was little." She raised her glass for a toast. "To our chance meeting," she said, and they clinked their glasses together.
Steven would never consider himself to be a wine connoisseur and often found them to be too dry or bitter, but this wine went down smooth with a hint of sweetness.
Julia's legs were crossed and she swiveled the ankle of her raised foot, perhaps teasingly showing off her boot.
"There's a bit of dried mud on the bottom edge of my heel," Julia told him. "Since you like my boots I'll give you the honor of cleaning that off for me."
Steven leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his fingertips around the base of her boot heel, the small bits of mud falling to the soft carpet on the floor.
"You need to get down on your knees and make sure its all gone," she said perhaps to tease him or as a dare, but he was actually thrilled to hear her words.
Julia was reasonably sure he would play along with her for a while, but was surprised when he quickly knelt before her, cupped her ankle in one hand and gently raised her foot towards his mouth.
He didn't just lick the heel of her boot, he caressed the gentle curves of it with his tongue, and then began to give the black leather uppers the same treatment. Julia eased back on the couch, sipped her wine, and before he could finish worshiping her boot, she pulled it away and raised the other to his face.
