Allan trotted along beside the tractor as Kate steered it toward the barn. He pulled the sliding door open and stood aside as she brought the tractor smoothly to rest in its accustomed place. She killed the engine, jumped down from the driver's seat, and writhed to stretch the kinks out of her lower back.
"We got a lot done," he said as he reached for her hand.
She smiled tiredly, slid the barn door closed, and took his hand. They headed up the slight incline toward the house.
"Kate?"
"Hm?"
"Something wrong?"
She looked up at him in some surprise. "No, nothing. Why?"
"You haven't been very talkative lately."
That elicited a crooked grin. "Farm girl, remember?"
So along with not talking during sex, they don't talk the rest of the time either?
He nodded and escorted her to their back door. Once inside, she silently stepped out of her overalls, tossed them at the rough-clothing hamper in the corner, and headed for the bathroom. Presently he heard the pulse of the shower.
Allan frowned, took a seat at their kitchen table, and propped his chin on his folded hands.
Something had to be amiss. Kate's taciturnity had gone well beyond her norm. She'd been driving herself harder than ever, rising earlier, stopping later, and demanding ever greater prodigies of effort from herself. In bed she'd gone from enthusiastic to frenzied, straining to bring him to orgasm twice or thrice every night. Yet she hardly had a word to say about the farm, their labors, their love life, or anything else.
It's only been a year. Maybe I don't yet know her all that well.
He tried not to worry.
Maybe the party will lift her spirits.
He went to their bedroom and rummaged through the closet for an appropriate suit. Though he'd saved several from his lawyering days, they failed to fit him as they once did. Farm labor had developed his chest, arms, and thighs more radically than they could accommodate. He wasn't unhappy about it -- he'd never felt better in his life -- but it meant more casual attire for the Taliaferros' party than he was used to wearing to such occasions. He shrugged and settled on a navy polo shirt and a new pair of tan slacks.
He cleared a spot on their bed, lay back, and allowed his thoughts to ramble. The previous year's rhubarb and scallions had sold extremely well. With his help, Kate had gotten six acres of each under cultivation, plus six of asparagus from a gourmet line. Present trends continuing, the coming crop would be as bountiful, and would sell out as quickly and profitably, as had the previous one. They had good reason to be proud of their work.
Kate entered wrapped in a towel, spied him reclining on their bed with his suits scattered around him, and grinned.
"They don't fit any more, do they?"
He chuckled. "How did you guess?"
"It's my doing, Allan. I made you into a farm boy. A farm boy never has a suit that fits. It's sort of a tradition."
She opened her fingers and let her towel fall to the floor. He sat up, the better to admire her tawny-blonde beauty, at once muscular and feminine.
"But I've got another farm saying in mind at the moment," she said. "The biggest one of all. The work's not done until the crop is in."
His eyebrows rose. "Meaning what?"
She undulated toward him. "Meaning get out of those clothes."
***
"Allan?"
"Hm?" He nuzzled her breast.
"Why haven't I conceived?"
The question brought him to full alert.
Is that what's been on her mind?
"I don't know, Kate. Sometimes it takes a while. It doesn't necessarily mean there's something wrong with us."
"Wrong with me, you mean."
The catch in her voice was plain. He propped himself on an elbow and peered at her through the early evening gloom.
"I meant what I said. There's such a thing as couple infertility. It might be the commonest kind." He dipped his head to brush his lips lightly across hers. "There's stress-induced infertility, too. You might just be working too hard. Pushing yourself beyond your proper limits. The body sometimes shuts down, uh, nonessential functions to compensate."
Her expression tightened. "I thought I knew my limits. I've worked this hard before. This many hours, this kind of load, and so on."
"But you weren't trying to get pregnant back then, were you?"
"Of course not!"
"Easy, Kate. We could go see Dr. Childress, if you want to get tested. He could do a sperm count on me, too, make sure I'm not, uh, shooting blanks."
She gave him a severe look. "What kind of farm boy are you? You mean to waste perfectly good seeds on a
test tube?
"
It was too much. He broke into helpless laughter, and she joined him. Presently she rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and slid down the bed until his penis was directly under her face.
"Maybe we haven't scattered quite...enough...seeds yet." She dipped her head and ran her tongue along the underside of his penis, from scrotum to head. It brought him instantly back to full erection. A jolt of exquisite pleasure shot through the length of his body, compelling a gasp.
"Mmm!" She dipped for a second lick and smacked her lips. "And all this time I thought I preferred sweet snacks."
On her third descent she took him fully into her mouth.
***
"She's radiant," Jack Taliaferro said.
Allan nodded. "I wish we had more occasions to doll her up for."
Kate stood at the far end of the Taliaferros' great room, a glass of white wine in her hand. She held court among a group of older wives, all of whom were doing their best to pump her for her antecedents without seeming to pry overtly. Her relaxed, confident poise and amused smile were more of a comment on their efforts than anything she might have said.
It had taken all of Allan's persuasive powers to get her into the black satin cocktail dress and high-heeled pumps she wore. Yet once she'd donned them and glimpsed herself in their bedroom mirror, her eyes had filled with wonder and tears. When he produced the diamond necklace he'd purchased for their anniversary and fastened it around her neck, she'd plastered herself against him, sobbing from sheer joy.
"We can fix that," Taliaferro said. "How did you do it?"
"Hm?"
"Bag her." The produce magnate's wry grin expressed an envious incredulity. "She's less than half your age and a damn sight better looking."
Allan chuckled. "Wasn't my idea, Jack," he said. "I was sitting on my porch, minding my own business, and suddenly there she was."
"Not a client of yours?"
"Huh? I don't have any clients."
Taliaferro's eyebrows rose. "I took you for a professional of some sort. Doctor or lawyer. What do you do to pay for groceries?"
"Well," Allan said, "I used to be a lawyer. I gave it up when I moved out here."
That got him Taliaferro's full attention. "What sort?"
