"Oh, they sent a woman," the balding man said.
"Is that a problem Mr. Haley?" Sally replied. Her heels were starting to sink into the mud at her feet.
Haley spat on the ground, "Naw. Not for me, but listen here, I've told them they don't need to send women out here. Hell, it's worse than when they send the men." He sounded genuinely concerned.
Sally pressed on, "This is just a routine check. Nothing to be worried about Mr. Haley. Give me the quick tour, and I'll sign off on your review."
Haley eyed her carefully. He was an old man who had been a hucow farmer for years, and he'd seen her type before. "Can I ask you something first?"
"If you must," Sally said, desperate to get on with her inspection.
"You have anyone back at the office out for your job? Did you get recommended for this trip by a supervisor or anything?"
Sally furrowed her brow. "I don't see how that's relevant."
Haley spat again. "Look, James Wilson did our inspections for fifteen years. He knew how it worked. Not sure how he did it exactly. Maybe he jerked it in the car before he got started. Whatever he did, it worked. He was able to go through the whole plant without having any issues. Properly looked after things and helped keep us up to code. That's what's important here. We request these inspections to make sure our girls are receiving the best treatment."
The man clearly didn't want her as his new inspector, and Sally wondered what she could say to convince him of her qualifications. "Mr. Haley, I can assure you that I have been fully trained by the agency. As part of that training, we are fully versed in the chemistry and biology involved in the alterations. And frankly, I don't know how you can say that you would prefer a man. Mr. Wilson was an exceptional member of the agency. He is sorely missed, but he was certainly not the norm. Male inspectors are reported at a 75% higher incident rate."
"That's because they actually make it back to work," Haley said as he shook his head. "But hell, I can see that I'm not going to convince you. Miles!" He shouted across the yard to a young man who was cleaning out metal barrels. "Come on over here. You're going to take Ms. Watkins on her inspection tour." He handed Sally a card. "There. That has my cell phone number on it. The second you find a problem or the second you start feeling a little strange, you tell Miles to get you out of there and call that number."
Miles arrived next to them, wiping his hands off with a dirty towel. He was a tall, well built young man with a broad sincere smile. He wore tight tan denim pants and a faded red plaid shirt with an old baseball cap. As he started to speak, he took off the cap and tousled his surprisingly lengthy hair. "Hello, Ms. Watkins? I'm Miles."
"Call me Sally, please," she said offering her hand. He took it and shook, not hiding the strength in his arm. "What do you do around here, Miles?"
"Oh, farmhand stuff. Whatever boss tells me, ain't that right boss?" he looked over at his employer with a idealistic grin.
"Don't run your mouth so much," Haley said. "Now get on with it and remember the first second something strange happens pull her out of there. We don't need another Little Rock incident." The old man continued to grumbled to himself as he limped back into the house.
"You ready, Sally?" Miles asked, his blue eyes shining in the morning light.
Sally flushed with heat as he looked at her. She didn't expect to see anyone so handsome on her visit. "Um, yes, let's get started."
As they set out for the milking pens, Sally put the thoughts of her attractive guide out of her head. It had taken her a very long time to finally get to this position. Carelessness at this juncture due to fawning over a boy would be a tragedy. They entered the large facility and started walking down the long aisles of stalls.
Miles followed a few feet behind her at a slow shuffle with his hands in his pockets, "So, Sally, what is it exactly that you're looking for?"
Sally scribbled some notes in her clipboard, "Oh, um. We're checking for any out of date or malfunctioning equipment and the like. The priority is safety of course. We don't want anything in operation that could potentially harm someone. I'm happy to see that all of your milking stations seem top of the line. How often are these pumps replaced and serviced?"
Miles replied, "We clean them after each milking, so four times a day. They send out a service team once every two weeks for a fully calibration and such."
Sally raised her eyebrows, "Two weeks? Regulation only requires three weeks."
"Boss is real strict about keeping everything clean and well working. Broken machine loses about fifty dollars an hour. A missed milking because of injury or illness is a loss of five hundred or some of our bigger girls, a thousand."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that well being is important, even if it is driven by money."
They reached the next stall, and Sally gasped in surprise.
The stall contained a woman moaning in satisfaction as the milking machine pumped her massive breasts. A rush of heat went through Sally's body at the sight, and she felt an odd twinge from between her legs. Miles wrapped his arm around her and moved her on past the stall.