I want to thank my critique partner for the input.
The parts I remember of this are true...
*****
After a long day at work, I walked into the house to hear the phone ring. I answered, "hello?"
"This is Owen."
"Owen?"
"Owen Richards, out at the Muleshoe Ranch."
"Oh, hi!" I had worked at the Muleshoe a summer several years ago. Owen was the foreman, and while we were friendly, he had never called.
"I was hopin' you could help me out. The sickle mower busted and Martin's Supply has the part I need, but I can't get to town before they close. Can you stop by and pick me up a pitman stick for a JD 39 and run it out to me? Please? Just have 'em charge it to The Muleshoe," he paused, "I have a bottle of June Watson's homemade peppermint schnapps I wouldn't mind sharin' with you."
June's schnapps was the bomb. "Sure, I'll head out now. Where are you?"
Owen told me how to get to the remote meadow he was haying. I grabbed my keys and made it to Martin's as they were closing. Then I headed out of town towards the Muleshoe, about 45 miles away.
Owen met me at the gate and had me leave my pickup. He grabbed his parts and we took off in his flatbed pickup bouncing across the meadow. The sun had gone down and the fireflies lit the meadow with their twinkles. The male fireflies roamed the hayed areas of the meadow while the females waited in the tall grass for their lovers. The whole meadow danced with insect love.
Owen and I shared the schnapps while bouncing across the meadow and admiring the cool evening. When we got to the tractor, Owen slid his right arm across my shoulders and asked, "no bra?"
Well, crap. I hate wearing a bra, so I take it off first thing when I get home, sometimes on the way home. I generally put one on if I am going out in public. In my hurry to make it to the feed store in time to get Owen's part, I had forgotten all about it. I had worn a thin button-down shirt to work, and the cool evening air had my nipples at attention.
"I bet Marty was happy to see you."
"Now that you mention it, so was Gordon at the gas station."
Owen leaned in for a kiss. Suddenly a devil and an angel appeared on my shoulder. The angel tried to convince me that Owen was married while the devil countered that it was just a friendly kiss. The angel came back with something about this being inappropriate while the devil reminded me I was in the middle of a dry spell. Ultimately the schnapps in my empty stomach won. I leaned towards Owen and when our lips met I immediately pulled back in confusion. The spirits were back. Now one pointed out the kiss was familiar, I clearly had kissed him before, why was I stopping? The other reminded me I couldn't possibly have kissed him before. My mind whirled. I hadn't kissed him before, had I?
Owen watched me go through this in my mind and casually asked, "you don't remember?"
"Kissing you? No! When?"
"That night in the barn..."
Oh lord. Oh, dear lord. It was the last night of my summer job. Everybody on the ranch had partied throughout the summer but it was just the two of us that night. We had a bottle of Jack and some lukewarm Pepsi, but no cups to mix it in. We were doing a swig from one and a swig from the other to break up the solid Jack. I feel sure we had some of June's special that night too, since they kept a bottle in the barn for early-morning fall roundups. We finished off the Jack and all we had left was warm Old Milwaukee, so we cracked one open. That is all I remember until I woke up sticky and naked in my bed with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.
"Oh, god. Did we..."
"Ha, I wish. You got hot, so ya took off yer shirt and poured beer on yer tits. You never did wear no bra that summer, the guys had ta walk all hunched over every time you showed up. It was a chore to keep them workin' a'tall when they knew you was gonna be around.
"You were so proud to show yer tits to me, and ya had to show me yer tattoo too." I had just gotten my tat that summer, and I was proud of it. It is my initials intertwined on my left ribcage. I can't even see it, since it is on my back. It looks like a scar, but it is my livestock brand. "You had me lick the beer off your tits and I sure did enjoy that. I got my face down there and you poured a little an' I caught it on my tongue as it dripped off your nipples. They was pulled up tight and were so suckable I couldn't stop myself from takin' a bite now and again. Sometimes a drip of beer would get away and I gotta lick down your stomach. You were a trim filly in those days. I drank a whole beer that way.
"Before we finished the next beer ya had to pee. You were squirming and you were grabbin' yerself but you were too shy to tell me ya needed help. I could see what was going on, so I pulled yer boots off then unbuttoned your jeans and slid ever'thing off." He paused and leaned across me, his elbow resting familiarly against my pussy for a moment, to open the glove box. He pulled out a pair of filthy, lacy, black panties. "'Member these?"
They used to be my lucky panties, I hadn't seen them in years.
"I helped ya squat and piss right there in the barn. When you was done, I got down a saddle blanket for you to sit on. So I cracked another beer and we shared it. You were completely shameless, sittin' there cross-legged leanin' against the tack room door with your pussy open. I could see your clitty through your lips, so sweet and pretty.