Iris loved everything about fall, the cooler temperatures, returning to the neglected parts of her closet, and all pumpkin spice lattes. Everyone knew, so she'd been put in charge of her office's annual Halloween party. She really wanted to make it special this year. The office didn't need another buffet table covered in plastic clamshells of frosted pumpkin cookies with an Elvira cardboard cut-out. She wanted a sensory experience that wasn't fake gore but looked back to the holiday's pagan roots of harvest and death.
A friend had suggested rural Muller farms for their corn maze and pumpkin patch to harvest the things she had in mind. She loved driving with the windows rolled down and the music blaring. Arriving nice and early on this glorious Saturday morning checking in at the farm store took no time. She got a maze map and one of those adorable Red Rider wagons she hadn't towed around in years. She and the wagon dove into the maze.
To her surprise, the air got still and close immediately in the maze. She shed her sweater and regretted not wearing shorts. She owned a pair of extremely short jean cutoffs. She should have paired them with her ropers and red socks, and the outfit would have screamed horny farm girl. That's how she felt on this lovely day. She hadn't met anyone new in weeks, and the chaffing between her thighs had nothing to do with the stray cornstalks that brushed up against her occasionally.
The maze was filled with corn still beautifully green. She needed dry, brittle, and dead-looking stalks for next week's party. She kept going and saw some yellow stalks lining the fence where the irrigation sprayers had missed. Not wanting to give up her decorating vision, she grabbed her shears and dove into the corn.
If she had thought the path was stifling, being in the stalks was doubly so. Panting and distracted when she finally reached the edge of the field, she was extremely surprised to see a gorgeous hunk of a farm boy leaning against the fence rails. Farm boy was a loose description because this hunk of a man could have stepped out of any country and western song video.
"Why hello there. I'm Sam, Sam Muller. My dad owns this farm."
Suddenly self-conscious, Iris noted her flushed cheeks, panting gulps of air, and the wetness of her jeans, which she could now tell wasn't all sweat.
Caught off guard, she stammered, "I'm Iris. It's a lovely place."
Sam beamed. "Can I show it to you?" He effortlessly vaulted over the top fence rail to stand very close to her.
"Sure." She swallowed and thought that sounded so ridiculously female and nice, and contained none of her hot and bothered real-life feelings.
Sam swung one arm up over her shoulders in a friendly, easy way and pointed towards the main farmhouse.
"That's our house." He said pointing to the Victorian era farmhouse, that like everything else about this place, seemed fairy tale perfect.
He spun her slightly towards the barn. Without a hint of irony, he pointed towards the big red barn saying, "That's the barn."
And then he used both hands to spin her so they were facing and he finished with, "And you've met me and the corn."
