(for Ninsbijou)
A June sun beat down mercilessly from a cloudless Kentucky sky as thirty-five-year old Cassie Wilson clambered into her dad's old Ford truck. The heat had remained unbroken for four long days burning the very oxygen from the air. As she had showered and dressed that morning, Cassie had looked out into the relentless heat and dispensed with the niceties of undergarments. Ready to go into town to pick up much needed supplies, she wore only her riding boots, socks, beige riding pants, and a crisp white blouse. Taller than average, with a well proportioned face that carried green eyes and full lips. Her hair was blond and reached the middle of strong shoulders. Inside the blouse full, firm breasts gave her profile a most pleasing aspect above an almost flat stomach and concave waist. Her hips and thighs were strong from all the years spent around horses, and her tall frame was supported by equally strong calves.
Cassie had only been back in Kentucky for three months. She had closed her equine veterinarian's office in Georgia and returned to her home near Pleasureville as soon as she had received news of her father's stroke. Cassie had never married, her time consumed by college and the equine veterinarian career she had picked out at an early age. Fortunately, George Wilson's stroke had been minor, but still enough to limit his ability to perform his duties as head trainer to the sixteen horses placed in his care by Harlan Jones. So, Cassie had come, and was, to all intents and purposes, running the stables and living with her father in the large , but old, house that came with the head trainer's position.
Cassie started the old stick-shift Ford and pointed it toward KY- 43 and Shelbyville. The air conditioning had gone out on the old truck a long time back and as Cassie rolled down the manual windows on each side of the cab she made a mental note to trade her car for a vehicle better suited for hauling ranch supplies. The trip to town was about twenty-five minutes, and by the time that Cassie climbed out of the truck at Jackson's Feed and Supply Store the sun had turned the cab into a steam oven. Cassie became aware of the new transparency of her white blouse, the darkened patch between her full breasts, and the rivulet of perspiration slowly running down her spine into the light caramel riding pants and the crevice between the firm, rounded cheeks of her rear. She entered the feed store thinking, thankfully, that this store similarly to many others like it was dimly lit.
"Pops" Jackson greeted her as she entered and she acknowledged him. He was fast headed towards seventy years old and had been at the store when his father had opened it. Apart from the low neon lighting, electrical outlets allowing demonstration of power tools, and fancier registers little had changed in the store since "Pops'" pop had opened the place after the first World War.
Cassie wandered through the barn of a store making sure that what she needed for the ranch was available and loaded sacks of grain, feed and grooming supplies onto a flat bed cart. Some of the stuff was available from stacks outside the store but Cassie was grateful for the cooler air provided inside by several whirring fans. As she neared the back of the store, and the end of her list, Cassie became aware that someone had entered and listened to the voices.
The three young men chattered away to each other then stopped at the counter. Cassie heard one of the men speaking to Pops.
"Pull this order together, old man, and I'll be back in the morning to get it."
The request was disdainful and demeaning. Cassie immediately knew who the speaker was. This was the voice of Dyson Jones, familiarly known as "Dice", son of Harlan, her dad's boss, and to Cassie's mind the most reprehensible character in Kentucky. The odds are then, Cassie thought that the other two voices belonged to the Williams brothers, Steve and Josh. The trio were rarely seen apart. Cassie had already encountered the surly Harlan Jones and his arrogant son, Dyson up at the training stables and had taken an instant dislike to the pair of them. She hoped the young men left, and went on to load the last of her supplies.
Dice Jones was 23, tall, strong and handsome. He had played volleyball at The University of Kentucky while garnering a degree in equine management. Were it not for his obnoxious personality his social circle would perhaps of been much wider. He stood five feet eleven inches tall and weighed in right at two hundred pounds. His oval face was set with piercing blue eyes and was topped with a golden flash of blond hair. His failing, and that of his father's was that he was used to getting his way. Straight out of college to the position of stable manager for his father's string had taught him nothing of social form or courtesy. He looked down on everyone except his father. He had been a spoiled kid, and was now an arrogant and self obsessed man.
The trio of men did not leave. They too appreciated the cooler air inside, and wandered through the store talking about weekend plans and horses that would be racing on the downs.
As they reached the back of the store Dice cracked, "Now there's something you don't see everyday!"
The Williams brothers laughed dutifully, and Cassie rose from her bent position and turned to face them. Her face was flushed now, from a little embarrassment and a lot of anger. Dice was not wavered by the Cassie's icy glare.
"Not often you see a Kentucky moon during a June day!"
Again, the Williams brothers laughed.
Cassie pursed her lips, then spoke. "Your fifth grade humor is not funny, Dice, it is low and disgusting! If I thought that talking to your father would do any good I would tell him right now!"
The young men snickered angering Cassie further. She huffed, her breasts heaved, and she saw all three boys stare unashamedly at her chest. She was sure that even in the dim light they could see the areolae through the cotton, the protrusion of the nipples in the sweat dampened garment. Cassie gripped the handle to the supply cart with both hands and pushed it down the aisle towards the young men. They stepped aside and Cassie felt the incident was over. As she passed she felt them brush her with their hands. A palm grazed her nipple, another hand actually squeezed her breast on the other side, and rudely, she felt fingertips push at her vagina from behind as she turned toward the front of the feed store. It was hot. She was hot. She knew that the crotch of her riding pants was damp with sweat.
As she retreated to the door she heard Dice's voice again.