She rattled along the old familiar farm road, loving the smell of the new pickup truck. She'd worked in the fields for a good part of the afternoon, consulting with her foreman, making sure that things were under control. It was good to be going home. She thought of things, delightful things like: shower, drink, maybe beer, maybe wine, a good dinner. On her own, of course, it would be, but Missy didn't mind that. Missy Markus was used to being on her own. Her husband of late memory had up and left already about twenty years before for some kind of adventure, and had never returned. She'd heard of his death, many years previous, only within the past five years.
She was a sturdy, no nonsense 48 years old. She wasn't looking forward to 50 but was not afraid of it either. She was dressed for the field, in gray jeans and a tan man's shirt. The men's shirts covered her more than ample 36c breasts better than the delicate fare that one might find in the women's stores. Yet, for all that, Missy Markus strove to always be lady like. She was a no-nonsense manager for her large farm, inherited from her late, beloved Daddy but she was a lady nonetheless. She made sure of that.
She was certainly in a good mood, having accomplished a lot with Jensen, the filed foreman, and was going to pamper herself that night. That much she'd already decided.
It was then that she saw the two young native men walking along the side of the road. She watched them closely as she approached them. They turned a bit and they stared back at her. Then they kind of waved. It wasn't a request for her to stop or pick them up. She wasn't sure that she'd do that, even if it were. It was really kind of a friendly gesture. She liked that, and she stuck her hands out the window and waved back at them.
She pulled into her lane and drove to the garage. There was a bathroom that had been built out of part of the large garage. It had its own entrance and Missy used it as a kind of general 'mud room'. She didn't like going into the house dirty and sweaty, and invariably would go to that bathroom first and have a shower before entering the house proper.
She had some things to put into the garage from the back of the pickup truck and busied herself carrying and fetching, until all her implements were stowed properly in the garage.
She had just finished the last of those tasks and, with some relief, had pulled the shirt tail out of her jeans and began the process of relaxing and looking forward to a shower, when she saw the boys again. They were walking toward the garage.
Missy stood by her truck fender with a smile on her face, watching them. They certainly looked pleasant, she thought. She was a good judge of character, she knew that, and didn't sense any need to be afraid of these two. They did look needy, that is, in need of cleaning up and probably being fed. She also liked the look of the two boys physically.
She guessed that they must be about 18 and were good looking. The one had big lips and Missy found herself fading into a momentary fugue about what those lips might do.
(Missy was ladylike but definitely lonely and only with difficulty fought down the physical impulses.)
They finally arrived at where she was waiting for them.
"Boys!" she said pleasantly. Then they surprised her.
One of them produced from his pocket a wicked looking knife and said in a soft, and really, nice voice, pretty much devoid of macho swagger and all:
"Missus, we want that you take those clothes off."
Missy was stunned. At first too stunned to believe what she was hearing.
"What was that?" she asked softly.
"I said, Missus, we want that you take those clothes off," he repeated.
She gave them an incredulous look and asked:
"Are you two boys determined to rape me?"
They gave each other a covert look and the one talking answered:
"Well, no, we just want to do a little playin'."
"Well what might be the difference between rape and 'a little playin'?" she asked.
"What your name, Ma'am?" the other one asked.
A thought swept across Missy's mind that these were the strangest rapists ever. She looked at them, and again had the impression that, despite their demand, they were not evil or intent on harm.
"So, you want that I should take my clothes off?" she asked.
"Yes, uh, Ma'am," the speaker said.
"Well, let me tell you before I do that little chore that I think that there are things that you boys need before sex; I mean, you might need cleanin' up, and a good home cooked meal, maybe even a job. But I know how a man's mind works and, when it's cookin' on sex, there's not much will get it off of the topic."
She surprised them them by leaning against the truck fender and taking off her field boots.
She sighed, once the boots and socks were off.
"My that feels good! Field working, even as the supervisor, is busy dusty work," she said conversationally, always watching them. They made no sign of impatience or nervousness. She was becoming more and more interested in these two strange boys.
The next thing that she did shocked the two of them down to their shoes. She pulled her shirt tail up and removed from her waist, a gun belt with a big Browning 9MM automatic.
Both boys got wide eyed, when they saw the gun but Missy simply went on and said pleasantly, removing the gun from the holster and taking the bullets out of the chamber:
"I'll just put these in the truck, so that no one gets hurt here. Okay?"
She proceeded to do that, locking the gun in one compartment and the ammunition in another. By the time she was done, the speaker had the knife in his hand down by his side.
"Why you do that?" he asked.
"Because, you told me that you wanted me to take my clothes off and the gun was in the way," she answered with a smile.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said to her then.
"What are your names," she asked. "If we're going to be really good friends here, I want to know your names."
The speaker said: "I'm Igwe."
The other said: "Rhondi."
"I'm Missy Markus," she said. "This is my place."
"Why are you doin' this, nice boys like you two, handsome boys?" she asked.
Then she just laughed and said: "Silly of me to ask that, I guess. Of course I know why you're doin' it. But let's get on. Shall we?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Igwe said, as entranced by this woman as Rhondi was.
Missy gave them a bright smile, liking the way the situation was developing and intent on enjoying it, and began to unbutton her tan work shirt. They just stared. The knife, still in Igwe's hand, no longer much of a factor in the situation.
As the buttons were slowly undone, Missy's lacy, beige bra came into view. It caused the boys to smile.
"That more like it?" Missy asked pleasantly.
"Oh, yes, Ma'am," Rhonde answered.
"Seein' what you want?" Missy went on.
"Beginning to, Ma'am," Igwe answered, as she shrugged her shoulders and let the shirt slide down her arms and off.
She took the shirt and folded it and put it into the front of the truck. She looked at them staring at her breasts, and before proceeding, straightened her shoulders up and thrusts her breast up and out for them.
This got a sigh from both boys. They stared at her plump, dark nippled breasts, barely hidden by the stretchy fabric of her lacy bra and both boys gave her a white toothed smile.
"What you boys want next?" she asked pleasantly, discovering with each advancing minute that this was an adventure that she really liked.
