Ideal Suburbia Ch 13

This is a series of stories that are a sort of sequel to two text-adventure games. Each installment is a complete story on its own, but for a full understanding, the reader may want to start with Chapter 1.

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What had started as a mental exercise, little more than a daydream really, was starting to look almost plausible. Learning to play golf had me hung up on the idea of developing a country club in the western suburbs near where I lived, an affluent area without a decent golf course, much less a nice private club. The concept had all been nothing but a pleasant diversion until I stumbled across a piece of land that was actually perfect for such a development. Literally all I had to was find a way to acquire that parcel and I could actually make this happen.

Meantime, I had a job. A good one. One at which I was quite successful. One I was heading into late after my morning golf lesson. I had spent a lot more time than usual drawing out information on my teaching pro, Charlie.

As I had expected, she was beginning to chafe in her current position. As the assistant head pro at a club with a popular, middle-aged head pro, Charlie literally had no chance for advancement where she was, absent a lightning strike. She was an excellent instructor, a better player, and it didn't hurt that she was a slender blonde fox. She should be a rising star, not professionally stalled so young.

If I could get my hands on that land, Charlie would be a day one hire attempt.

I walked into the office, still in my golf attire. It was Casual Friday, but I had a suit slung over my shoulder for a sales call scheduled at the end of the day. I delayed at the front desk, gossiping with our receptionist Sally. I had seen the owner's BMW entering the parking lot after mine, and I was killing time until Cathy came in after me.

Face time with the boss was always a good thing at any job, but beyond that, Cathy was charming, funny, and had a surprisingly bawdy streak in her. And she was one of the most smoking hot women I knew. So I waited.

She was through the door in short order. I (and my pants) stirred slightly as I saw a shopping bag from a lingerie store I had never heard of in her hand. Phil, the only sales person with better numbers than me chose that moment to enter the lobby on his way out. We both called out a greeting to Cathy simultaneously, and the three of us gathered in front of the receptionist desk automatically to include Sally in the conversation. Upon seeing my golf clothes, Cathy remembered it was my Cathy-mandated lesson day, and decided it was time to taunt me about my rookie-level golf skills.

I haughtily boasted that I had played nine holes with the pro the week before and had actually birdied a hole. "Number 4?" asked Cathy, whose membership I was riding on to learn golf. I nodded. "Noob. My mother can birdie number 4!" she scoffed. "How many bogies?"

"Got any plans this weekend?" I replied archly, since it was time change the subject.

"I've certainly got plans for tonight," she replied. "We shall see about the weekend. It's our first date in a while, but I think he may deserve some new packaging. Want to see?" She asked, reaching into the lingerie bag without waiting for the inevitable affirmative answer. The teddy she drew out was expensive, frilly, purple, and cupless. As I'd seen her do several times before, she held her latest purchase up against her splendid form. When she did that it was very easy to, and nearly impossible not to, imagine her wearing the lingerie and nothing else.

I would have the real and the imagined images in my brain all weekend.

Phil had been married for 13 years. He probably lived for moments like this....

The Rules in our office were simultaneously relaxed and strict. No relationships between employees, and no sexual comments to or about other employees. Beyond that, conversation could and did descend to some pretty bawdy levels. But I thought I was safe asking a fairly utilitarian question. "Why do you bring that to the office to change into? Why not just wear it in. You will wear that suit tonight on your date, right?"

Cathy just shared a look with the receptionist. "I'll let you in in a secret, Mr. Man. Women don't WEAR things like this," she said, doing Phil and me the favor of holding it up against herself once more. "This little teddy fits perfectly, but it is still itchy, and lumpy under my clothes, and... well... you can see it doesn't offer any support." She slid the teddy back into her shopping bag. "We put stuff like this on right before we are going to meet whomever we are wearing it for, and not a minute sooner! You guys are just supposed to believe that we dress like that all the time. Apparently, YOU did until just now. Sorry to shatter your illusions about women," she called over her shoulder in parting as she headed off for her office.

Phil and I shared a haunted gaze as Sally laughed at us both.

Cathy stuck her head back into the lobby and called out to me, "The golf outing is next month, remember. I think I've decided you will ride with me, so I can see how well you actually play. Do not suck! I don't want to be that foursome holding up play."

Great, more of that no pressure pressure that Cathy liked to apply.

The next morning, I omitted my usual Saturday routine of lounging by my pool and catching up on things. I had a scouting mission.

I dressed in good jeans, a work shirt, and some old hiking boots--the closest approximation I had of what I believed real farmers wore, and headed for the land I wanted to try to acquire for my imagined golf club development. I parked to the side of the dirt road before the closed gate to the farm, and pulled in a deep breath as I got out and approached the gate with its "Posted" sign.

Visions of shotguns dancing in the periphery of my brain, I pushed the gate open and strode in like it was nothing. I took maybe two strides before a voice called out from a little ways off to my left, "You gonna close that gate behind you?"

Startled, I jumped a little and turned toward the voice. It belonged to a woman on horseback who had been riding along the edge of the field toward the gate when I entered. She urged her horse to a faster walk, closed the last few yards between us and pulled up, looking down at me with a dubious expression.

"I... uh, I... sorry!" I replied. Looking around quickly, I added, "I don't see any livestock though." I was thrown off guard and practically stuttering because I was kicking myself for not closing the gate behind me and now I had gotten off on the wrong foot with the first resident I encountered... and because holy shit, she was as hot as any farmer's daughter in any dirty joke you've ever heard.

My reply did not impress her. "You see a closed gate, it's closed for a reason. Sometimes it's to keep critters in," she replied. She leaned forward, reins held in one hand on her thigh, her other hand balled in a fist and set on the other lovely hip, "And sometimes it's to keep critters OUT," she added significantly.

Yikes.

"I, uh, I am sorry to intrude, but I did want to speak to the owner here," I said trying to smile blandly. "Is that you?"

She sat back a bit, a slight upward quirk sneaking onto her lips. "Me? Naw. Least, not for a good while anyways. You want my uncle."

I waited a beat before I realized this laconic woman was going to make me ask. "Can you tell me where to find him?" I asked brightly.

"Sure can," she replied, and shut up again.

I waited even longer this time, looking at her stupidly. I did this partly because I was being stupid, and partly because it was very nice looking at her. The stupid finally passed and I chuckled, giving her a nod. "Thank you. And where is he?"

She actually smiled now, seeming to relax now that she had established she could beat me in a battle of wits. "Unc is up working in the machine shed. It's the left one of the two metal buildings up yonder."

Yonder? People still say yonder?

She looked me up and down for a moment, and shook her head. "You are a ballsy salesman, to walk right through a closed gate with a Posted sign, looking for a farmer."

"Oh, I'm not a salesman," I said quickly, then stopped myself. "I mean, I AM a salesperson, but I'm not here to sell anything. Really. Besides, I doubt you guys have any need for custom metallurgical components for manufacturing."

"Your funeral," she said, touching the brim of her hat and asking her horse to amble along. I took two more strides toward the buildings, only to hear her clear her throat. I looked over at her and she was looking over her shoulder back at me and then at the still open gate in turn. I hung my head and turned to dash back and close the gate. With it closed, I took a few moments to look after her as she rode away inspecting whatever the hell she was inspecting along the field's edge. She looked just as good from behind as she did head on.

I tore my gaze away from her and directed it toward the farm buildings. I was not here to end up in a traveling salesman and the farmer's niece joke. Those usually ended up with pitchforks or shotguns anyway, not real estate deals.

The dirt road led through the wide, gently rolling field, filled with a waist-high crop of corn. The farm buildings were on a slight rise and not far away. There were two small two-story homes, both blue with white trim. Two gray metal buildings sat between them. The one on the right seemed to be a small stable. The one on the left, the machine "shed", was a stonking huge equipment garage. All the doors were open, revealing a whole array of gleaming modern tractors, a combine, etc. So much for hoping for some mild financial distress....

I was expecting to find the farmer working on an engine or something, but instead he sat at a desk, working on a huge iMac with two external monitors. As I approached, I saw that the left monitor had commodity market charts on it, the right had a web browser, and the main screen had a satellite view of the farm with a bunch of graphic overlays. I called out in greeting, and the farmer rose from his desk and approached me with a gaze that I hoped was more curious than hostile.

He was a seriously tall guy, probably nearing 60 years old, with weathered skin, salt and pepper, thinning hair, and big, ropey muscles everywhere. He was dressed almost identically to me, only his boots were both muddier and much more expensive-looking than mine. At least I got my clothes right for this mission.

I introduced myself and he shook my hand cordially, giving his name as Steve Baker. I told him that I had met his niece out riding by the gate, and she had told where to find him.

"Did she now?" Steve mused. "Did she also tell you that I got nothing I need to buy?"

I laughed, "She did. Fortunately, I have nothing I need to sell... at least not to anyone in your industry!" I took a deep breath and plunged in. "Actually, I wanted to enquire if you had given any thought to selling this land? I have a project that it would be perfect for."

"Can't say as how I have," he replied slowly.

"Really?" I replied. "This land is pretty valuable. I'd like to make you an offer."

"Now," he said deliberately, "I didn't say I haven't had offers. Got plenty of them over the last ten years, 'specially when my little brother passed away. I just never gave any thought to actually selling."

I was surprised and a little charmed at the most polite "fuck off" I'd ever heard. That said, I've never been one to take No for an answer easily.

"Fair enough," I said easily. "I am surprised though. It would be a lot of money."

"I got money, son, and unlike most farmers, I ain't got a lot of debt. It's a profitable business, feeding people, if you run it right and get lucky. And my niece Rae will need a farm of her own, once I get too old," he explained genially. We chatted further, but I made no progress.

"Well, your time is valuable, sir," I said at last, "but I hope you won't mind if I keep trying from time to time to change your mind?"

"Well, you ain't stupid, and you are a sight more respectful than most of the kids your age that my niece knows, so I reckon I won't run you off on sight. But be careful. You show up again, I'll put you to work while you talk... or Rae will. Neither of us have much time for folks just yakking when there is chores to be done."

I retreated from the machine shed, thinking hard. Maybe Rae was my angle. She was clearly more than his niece, she was his heir. Unfortunately, that actually kind of made her an obstacle. A smoking hot obstacle, but an obstacle none the less.

The subject of my thoughts was riding up the dirt road as I exited the shed. She headed toward the stable and swung out of the saddle. I walked over toward her. She really was like something out of a farmer's daughter sketch. Tall like her uncle, she had some serious curves in all the critical points, and she dressed in a way that was both plausibly utilitarian and yet smoking hot. She wore short, low-waisted, raggedly cut off jeans which left her graceful and rangy legs bare down to her cowboy boots. Her shirt was a short-sleeved plaid work shirt, open enough up top to display a bit of roundly generous cleavage. The shirt tails were rolled up and tied just above the bottom of her rib cage, leaving an alluring expanse of flat belly exposed. All her exposed skin was a rich, golden, healthy tan that betokened long daily exposure to the sun, combined with judiciously restrained use of sun screen. Her blonde, wavy hair fell just short of her shoulders and was contained under a straw cowboy hat with the brim bent up at the sides. She had a wide mouth, button nose, and dark blue or hazel eyes. Watching her tight, round butt as she swung off the horse was especially nice.

She had to have caught me drinking in the sight of her, but she chose not to notice. "So, all done failing to sell Unc whatever you were trying to?"

"I really am not trying to sell your uncle anything," I said, still not sure if I should tell her why I was here. "He did not throw me out, and he did not say I couldn't come back. He just warned me that if I was going to keep talking then I'd likely be put to work while I did," I added jokingly.

Rae looked at me, unsmiling. "Oh yeah? And here you are still talking." She walked over to the huge, beat-up old pickup parked by the stable. She grabbed a bale of hay from the overfull truck bed, lifting it with practiced ease. "Come on then. This hay won't unload its own self." She turned and headed inside the stable.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I grabbed a bale and followed.

The inside of the stable's feed room was fairly dark, stuffy, and hot. We began stacking the bales against one wall, not very high. We both were sweaty and panting before we were a third done. I observed that I was doing a lot of work, and not much talking, while we returned outside for another load.

"So talk," Rae said. "You say you ain't sellin'. What DO you want?"

I guess I was going to have to tell her about what I wanted, so I did. Maybe she would understand the value of selling. Maybe she would kick me off the farm instantly for trying to take the farm that would one day be hers. I outlined my offer.

"Good luck with that," Rae grunted as she lifted the next bale. "Unc'll never sell. He's way too in love with being the Great American Small Farmer. And too in love with me bein' one after him!"

Was there a sour note in that last sentence? At least I was not being shown to the gate. That was some good news. Some bad news was that there was still a helluva lot of hay to shift. Some other good news was that Rae looked even better when she was flushed and sweat was rolling down into her cleavage.

When we were most of the way done, Rae said, "Damn it, hold up!" She went to a beat up old fridge nearby and grabbed two huge bottled waters. She tossed one to me, cracked hers open, and flopped down on a pile of bales, leaning back against more hay. I collapsed nearby.

Splayed out like that, Rae was a sight to behold and along with my water, I drank her in. She guzzled half the bottle right off the bat, then pulled off her hat and sprayed a bit of water on her head and face. She fanned herself with the hat to further cool herself. For my part, I just drank my water, though I did pour a little down the back of my neck. Mostly I just checked out Rae, reclining back there across from me. Her shirt was tight to begin with, but now it was plastered to her chest with sweat and bottled water. From the first time I saw her, I had seen no indication of a bra, and now I was positive she didn't have one on.

I must have been oggling her too intensely, even in this dim light, for her to ignore this time.

"Getting a good look there, Office Boy?" she asked acerbically. But I noticed that she made no move to alter or deny my view.

"It is one hell of a view," I admitted with a smile. I discovered that my priorities were changing. My laser-like focus on obtaining this land seemed to me at that particular moment to be very narrow-minded.

"Yeah... well my view ain't bad neither," she said and I realized that she was indeed checking me out fairly thoroughly. In fact, I realized that she had done so numerous times earlier. I had just missed the signs because I'd been working so hard to not be observed checking her out! "You work pretty good for an office boy, Office Boy," she went on. "What else do you do well?"

If that wasn't an invitation, I don't know what was. "Lots of things," I replied. "A number of which I could show you right here."

Rae looked me over with what now looked to be a grin on her face. She seemed to be giving special attention to the suddenly over-burdened front of my jeans, which were not feeling so comfortable right then.

"Those working man's jeans aren't fitting so well right now, are they, Office Boy?" laughed Rae as she sat up and undid the only two buttons that were fastened on her shirt. "I hope this doesn't make it worse," she added, unknotting the shirt tails and letting the garment hang open, revealing her large, supple, and round breasts. She leaned back again in the hay, the shirt falling further open as she poured water across her chest.

It definitely made it worse.

I stood up and walked across the hay toward Rae, and she rose to meet me. We stood close, facing each other. Rae lifted her hands and began to unbutton my shirt. When she was done, she slid it off my shoulders and began to run her hands over my chest and abdomen. "Nice," she murmured. "You look as strong as you are," she complimented me as she teased her fingertips over my pecs.

Turnabout was fair play and I reached out, my fingers practically trembling as I first caressed, then cupped her delicious tits. Rae pressed herself forward into my hands and kissed me deeply but briefly. Then, not removing her lips from mine, she said, "I can't expect you to get any work done with pants fitting you that badly."

She trailed her fingers down the sides of my chest in butterfly motion, bringing them together when they reached my waistband. She tugged at the buttons of my jeans, popping them one at a time until the fly was open entirely. I kissed her back, then replied, this time with my lips still brushing hers, "Are you sure this will help us get the work done?"

"Well, SOMETHING is going to get done," she laughed, tugging my jeans loose over my hips. Her fingers swiftly slid back to grasp my very eager cock. She caressed it gently, exploring its size and hardness. I relinquished my grasp on her breasts long enough to push my jeans down, letting them fall to my ankles, where they caught on my hiking boots. Rae let go of my cock, sliding her hands up my chest once more.

But this time she gave me a quick shove. I tried to step backward to arrest my sudden imbalance and instead tripped on my trapped ankles. I flopped down on my back on a soft expanse of hay, with Rae standing over me smiling, wearing nothing but her own boots and the cutoff jeans shorts. She laughed, "Ain't that just like an office boy, falling on his ass in the feed loft."