#2- Milk Maid
Adam had been called to the South Pole with less than a day's notice.
"It's a once in a lifetime chance," he'd said sadly, "If I don't do it now it'll never happen."
It was likely a good thing there wasn't much time to talk about it -- to debate the pros and cons. Still, Violet found herself standing at the airport in a state of shock -- a one-month-old baby on her hip and the love her life en route to spend six months at the coldest place on Earth in a location where even email was barely available, let alone the internet.
At least money wasn't an issue. Adam's grant was funded by several major corporations. It paid surprisingly well and spouse subsistence was even included. She would be able to stay in their lovely little home in the woods on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon with the beautiful garden in back.
Yet, when she returned to their lovely home at the end of the winding road she had never seen an emptier place in her life.
At least Adam's father lived in the area. Adam's parents were divorced and his mother lived with her new husband back East. But Charles was a godsend. He was a quiet, reserved man -- who seemed to be good at everything. He had already helped get so many things set up around the house and promised to help as much as he could with Violet the baby.
With Adam gone, naps for Violet were in short supply. There was no one to change the baby at night, nobody to help with
anything.
Violet found herself growing more and more tired.
Thankfully, the baby somehow sensed her exhaustion and about a week after Adam's departure, little Ian finally slept all the way through the night.
As revitalizing as a solid night of sleep was - it didn't help her in the breast department. She woke with a piercing pain.
"Ouch!" she muttered as she woke up to throbbing breasts and a soaked nightgown. She peeked in on Ian and couldn't believe he was still sleeping soundly.
"The one time I need him," she joked to herself.
She rushed to the kitchen and started pulling out the parts of the pump from the dishwasher. She couldn't help but laugh as rivulets streamed down her boobs. She shrugged in resignation and pulled down her top, slapping the pump on to one engorged breast and just chuckled as the other breast continued leaking.
She'd just switched to the other one when she had the odd feeling of being watched. Looking up, she saw Charles standing outside the kitchen, watching her with sort of a deer-in-the-headlights look. She couldn't blame him, here she was a 5'2" pixie with tits about twice their already ample size, standing in the middle of her kitchen topless, milking herself like a cow on a dairy farm. She couldn't blame him for staring.
At first she considered covering up, but then just shrugged in helpless surrender. Charles gave her a wry, discomfited grin in return then headed off with his toolbox to fix the gate and garage door that she'd called him about.
Just as Charles walked away, Ian started to cry from the nursery.
"
Now
you're hungry," called Violet to the bedroom. "Ten minutes earlier, you would have saved me a lot of troubles and embarrassment!"
A half hour later, Ian was well fed and playing in his playpen. Violet was dressed, and coffee was steaming in the pot. Charles knocked at the door.
"Come in," she called. "Coffee's been waiting for you."
"Sounds good," said Charles, wiping his feet and stepping in. "The gate and door are fixed. I can't promise how long the garage door is going to hold up before it needs replaced, but it should last a while."
They made chit chat for a while, and then Violet decided to talk about the elephant in the room.
"Hey, sorry about the peep show earlier."
Charles blushed.
"Don't worry about it," said Charles. "I didn't want to knock in case one of you was asleep, so I came around back and... Anyway, that's about the most real skin these old eyes have seen in about five years.
"Not so old," said Violet. "You're only forty-five."
"Forty-six."
"And, I have a hard time believing you haven't seen -- well -- seen some action in five years.
"You'd be surprised," said Charles, still blushing. "I mean, Laurie left me, and we'd been together twenty years. Before that, it wasn't like I was much on the singles scene. People keep telling me to get 'out there' but when I do, I just want to get right back in."
"I understand," said Violet, sensing not to push things any further. "Listen, I know it's not a hot date or anything, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner on Friday. Ian isn't much on conversation, you know?"
"I uh, sure. Sure, that'd be great."
Friday came around. Dinner was
not
going according to plan. Ian was extra
fractious
as her grandmother liked to say, and everything that could go wrong -- did. She was normally a good cook, but cooking was all about timing and Ian was a six week old expert at throwing off anything related timing.
Charles arrived to find a smoky kitchen, a smoke alarm going off, and Violet trying to cook with one hand, Ian wrapped in a sling, his face pressed into her breast.
"I've got one question for you," said Charles.
"What's that?"
"How do you like Thai food?"
"I
love
Thai food."
"Good. Go finish feeding Ian. I'll order, then clean up the kitchen. I brought wine, by the way. I wasn't sure if you could drink it."
"One glass, no problem."
Violet fed Ian, freshened up, and stepped into an entirely transformed kitchen. The smoke was gone, the mess was gone, and Charles was setting out the Thai food which had just arrived.
"Ian isn't going to join us?" he asked.
"No, he finally went down. Thank god."
"He probably wouldn't have liked the tom kha anyway," joked Charles. "Too spicy. Nice dress, by the way."
"Oh, thank you," she said. "I just figured -- dinner, grownups, time to finally get out of a nursing gown or overalls. Mind you, it took some doing to get into it with the milk factory that has taken up residence in my chest.
"It suits you... the dress. The milk factory, well, it certainly enhances things, I guess you'd say."
Violet giggled at Charles' frank nature. They were certainly obvious. The dress she was wearing had shown a modest amount of cleavage before Ian, now her boobs were squeezed in and pushed up like a restoration corset.
"So," she said, "shall we eat?"
The wine tasted like ambrosia. It was the first taste she'd had in almost a year and it rolled around on her tongue in a beautiful way.
"Oh my god, that's good," she said, savoring each drop. "You have
no
idea what this tastes like."
"And you're sure it's okay for Ian. Doesn't it get into your milk?"
"It's sort of a myth really. Not to say a nursing mother should be pounding them back all the time, but it's not the crime you'd think. People have always had this idea that when the mother drinks, the alcohol goes straight to the milk. The most recent studies say that basically, if the mom feels tipsy, then that can make the baby tipsy. It's sort of a myth that the alcohol goes into the milk. If it's in my bloodstream, it's in my milk, if I sober up, so does the supply. For me it doesn't really matter, I've got so much saved up I'll just do a pump-and-dump tonight and tomorrow morning.
"Well, if you're going do that, why should you worry about just the one glass?" said Charles.
"I'll drink to that," said Violet.
Finishing the first glass, Violet was already a bit tipsy.
"Wooh, I'm a lightweight," she said, giggling. "That's what taking a year off of drinking will do to you."
They enjoyed the meal and conversation.
"So, Charles, it looks like you're a breast man," she said, having noticed Charles frequent glances -- and not into her eyes.
"I uh... to be honest, I'm having a hard time not looking given the size of your milk factory, as you put it. But to answer your question - yes, yes I am."
"Don't be ashamed," said Violet. "I'm just getting some clarification. Women notice these things, you know. I saw you sneaking a peek now and again even before these puppies blew up like balloons."
"Guilty, I guess," said Charles. "I do my best not to stare, but show me a woman in a low-cut top, and my manners tend to fail."
"Your manners are gentlemanly compared to a lot of the men I've met. I worked with a guy for two years, and I bet he still couldn't tell you what color my eyes are."
By the time they were polishing off the pad thai, Violet had finished her second glass. Her eyelids were growing droopy.
"Gosh Charles, I'm-really-tired," she slurred.
"I don't blame you," he said. "Why don't you go lie down for a little while."
"But the baby... "I'll feed him if he wakes up," he said. "Now get some rest."
She stumbled off to the bedroom, zombielike, barely aware of changing into her pajamas.
****
"Fuck!" she cursed softly.
"
