Chapter 4: I Meet Lilly

I returned to the milking parlor donned from head to toe with squeaky yellow rubber gear. I felt like an idiot but wasn’t willing to suffer a complete soaking for the entire duration of milking. The entire new experience of dairy work was a rush of a heavy work, horrible smells, so many cows and odd work mates who were very shy.

As I return-descended the stairs a curious glance came from Vern but his look hurriedly turned back to his work. I wasn’t made to feel goofy which I’d given more than one thought to and aside from Vern no one had yet arrived at the parlor to help with the milking. Now I was working, learning on the fly, busy, and my first fears of arriving in a strange place were melting as I found purpose.

I commenced washing cow number two.

The layout of the parlor only allowed you to work from one side of a cow, left or right, depending, so I started with the easy to reach parts which included one side of the head. Cows coming in from a night in the field could have any number of things stuck to them aside from hair. Quite often fairly thick cow poop, dried or even goo, was applied by some mysterious means in places up high on the cow one would not assume easy to accomplish. Luckily, I thought, the water available for washing came out warm from hoses plumbed overhead, over the walkway in several places.

The warm water was provided by a boiler in the system whose warmth was certainly less alarming for the cow as it received its first squirt using a spring loaded nozzle. There was a lot of water pressure in the line and one had to be careful not to jab the animal with squirting as a solid stream because for a city kid, trying to make friends with cows for the first time, a gentle albeit nervous approach seemed essential.

I realized it might be a bit difficult to convince the cow to stand still while I washed around eyes and ears so I didn’t intend to spend too much time in that area. But it took quite a while to get an entire beast washed up and I was wondering how in the world I’d ever keep up with the milker who needed a next cow to milk.

I was getting quite personal with my new beast friends in discovering what a cow feels like, the hair, somewhat coarse, and the dried poop needing soaking in order to remove. Poop was not something I wanted to touch but it was a job requirement so I decided just to wash it with a sense of denial, hurriedly, more water. And some was fresh and gooey so it didn’t require scrubbing yet was really more gross and stunk most noticeably mixed with warm water tangy on my bare hands.

The only really fleshy exposed hairless part of the animal was her udder, around her udder and her teats hanging down. I noted there was some sense of sensitivity as I handled teats and I also sensed how the cow seemed to appreciate the massage as I applied more warm water.

I tried to be very gentle and yet dried poop required some extra work soaking, more time.

I’d only managed to clean about three cows while I wasn’t really paying attention to other activity. I was determined to focus, to be the best cow washer possible and nobody was saying a word to me regarding how I was doing. I assumed, therefore, I might be doing okay. The foul weather gear was keeping me relatively dry and I was getting into a rhythm I could keep pace with as I lost track of time.

I noted cows were beginning to move more quickly down the elevated concrete on either side, apparently were getting milked a lot more quickly than I got them washed and finally realized Vern and I were not alone.

I felt movement in the walkway behind me and somebody was making contact with me, softly, in passing by. I looked up from my cow and was gripped with surprise to realize there were other people in our midst.

For a moment my mind raced through options of how to act in their presence. My short time with Vern helped me to believe I didn’t have much to fear but having to quickly deal with more of these mentally challenged “Sweet And Gentle Folk” in tight quarters was a new and sudden challenge for my shyness. I couldn’t hide from anybody now.

I assumed the added help to be the three other bunk mates who had probably arrived after trailing the herd up the hill from the night pasture. I tried to get glimpses of them as they passed from cow to cow. Like me they seemed very shy adults and didn’t show any interest in talking to me, mere glances now and then. That was okay with me. I would get to know them later. I had no idea how they might converse if they had little boy minds. I wondered if they knew how to talk.

I noted the clothing, worn down heavy work type clothes dark with work, stained but warm looking. They all wore baseball type caps turned backwards, also dark from work. They used their capped heads to push on their cow, head inserted in front of the cow’s hind leg. That stance seemed important. They would mutter to the cow as they did it and their heads would follow the movement as she lifted feet and moved slightly around in the stanchion as the milking machine cups were installed on teats with a sucking sound.

There was no hesitation in their work. They knew what they were doing. I wondered why they were regarded as “retarded” since they did their work obviously correctly; no one was telling them otherwise. They were perfectly good people it seemed and I was the new one who didn’t know what he was doing.

The milking routine was set and I thought I understood pretty well what was going on, repeating from cow to cow as milking machines were removed and then applied to a next cow coming in from the loafing shed. I had no idea how long we would be doing this work but I continued to try to learn how to do my washing quicker, trying, efficiently, one end of the cow to the other.

And the smell of ripe cow manure was ever so present.

But now I realized three more people were actually four in the long walkway besides Vern and I. I sensed there was one more arrival, a person talking, a female voice.

I remembered something about a girl mentioned yesterday by the wife at the house. She was said to be very cute and bright. A young female person was among the arrivals and she was greeting the bunk mates at the far end of the walkway with what seemed like a lot of familiarity, very happy.

Here was a stark difference, a warm personality amongst the mentally challenged. They were so very shy and quiet which was kindred to me but she had an apparent commanding personality and I heard male voices, also happy, responding to her.

I couldn’t yet see her but cute girl alert flags went up in my naive mind as I realized the voice of a girl quite sexy and happy. Cute girl fear seizure started to flare up shy inside me. I was naturally male-alert to possible female allure but seized with fear, long taught coinciding, accordingly, parochial taught manners intact. And I was told she was special.

Memory brought me back to my grandfather always telling us to stay away from the steers. Once we had all been walking through the herd on the way to house when a steer acted aggressive and he took off his hat to cover the animal’s eyes. He did it as casually as anything, long experienced, and the animal headed off bewildered.

Now I found some sense of protection inside my foul weather hood for some unknown reason like someone had covered my head to protect me from embarrassment. I guess it made me remember what my grandfather had done. It was as if I was clad against meekness with some hopeless rubber defense. I wasn’t exactly bewildered like a steer but I expected to remain shrouded for some time, like a turtle. Maybe she would ignore me so I wouldn’t have to respond. I worried.

Overt friendly girls scared the heck out of me. Like my grandfather’s steer I wished I could wander off bewildered without being noticed. Was she actually kissing a mentally challenged guy?

I worked to keep focus on my current cow as I washed my way from one end to the other.

The voice of the new female arrival rang in my ears and distracted my work attention for its cute quality. She sounded like a pixie I thought. It broadcast delightfully and she was apparently very happy to see the crew. I tried to keep my ears open as well as my mind to gather every bit of information I could without looking for very long, so compelled, so scared.

Her obvious favorite was Vern.

I tried to secretly grab glimpses ever so brief, too quick to actually be caught trying to perceive what was going on behind me. My curiosity wrapped in fear was strong and when I finally pictured the person I’d be dealing with I was shocked beyond reason. I saw lots of bare skin. That was crazy. Surely I was mistaken. This female person was getting undressed, here, working in this dirty smelly environment? Impossible.

Beyond the other crew members near the stairs leading down to the walkway someone was handling what appeared to be apparel or something similar, apparently hanging up clothing someone had removed. The bare skin behind me began to connect the dots.

The other milkers moved aside as she worked her way among them and as soon as I realized who or what she was there was no sense to it. But a very odd, very attractive young female had taken off her clothes and finally she wore nothing but a baseball cap. Oh my gawd she was so naked.

She seemed very pleased as she reached up and tightened the cap’s fit!

What, why, she wore no clothes, at all, apparently having taken them off. As she arrived for work among us she was already all wet, bare and actually dripping.

Needless to say, an amazing sight for my eyes, she seemed to glow. She was hosing herself off using a nozzle like the one I had hanging from my hand. I was in utter awe of this situation and none of it could possibly make sense. This was some trick on the new guy from the city. One of the other milkers was helping her hose off her backside. Although curiosity was overwhelming I quickly turned my gaze away and needed time to think.

Certainly this was not right. And yet there she was acting as natural as could be. The owner’s wife told me about her but not about her being naked. Surely you would think this unusual enough to let me know. This was more than just confusing.

I glanced again and she had her hands up under Vern’s shirt as he worked on his cow with his back to her. She moved her hands around in front, roaming, which seemed to give him real pleasure and he sighed, smiled, cocked his head to one side, let out a grinning moan. She laughed as if she was teasing him, was going through a familiar routine and it was also apparent to be more than just a casual hug.

I thought this was really weird all of a sudden among the unusual crew in this unusual place.

Vern jumped and laughed when the girl apparently dropped her hands around into a sensitive spot down his pants as she kissed him on the neck. She wasn’t letting him go. Then he turned his head aside when the milking machine was in place and she stuck her tongue in his mouth as he began to say something. He didn’t say a word but moaned willingly, remained in a deep kiss as he groaned some more. He kind of melted for such a big guy. Yes, he seemed very happy, not at all upset with her invasion.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was touching close, something I’d not experienced before in my entire life, not even remotely. A totally naked wet girl was kissing a big guy very passionately amongst all the cows, the awful manure, the other milkers staring at them. I’m sure I visibly shook with the mental shock of it all. I was on the verge of panic and demanding curiosity.

I was among mentally challenged co-workers, very shy, yet comfortable with this situation. In fact they were smiling at me when I caught their eyes staring at my curiosity, sensing my astonishment and it embarrassed me. I was trying to do a job I had barely any idea how to do; it was getting really humid, heavy with the incredible smell and I didn’t know what to do next. But I wished desperately to disappear from sight, at least for a bit to let me think. I especially would have loved to have been able to watch without being seen.

The mentally challenged men were all an increasing mood happier now with the girl, assumed milker, present. I assumed her a milker because she was so familiar with the surroundings and the cows.

I didn’t have any idea what to expect from any of them with their condition making them sweet or gentle or naked. And what did the owner of the dairy think, or what could he if confronted with a naked girl in his milking parlor? And I, the editor’s son, confronted with a naked girl on my first day at my summer job. What was I supposed to do about it? Did my father know about this?

Maybe I’d stepped into the real world, a tawdry place we children had been warned about without details. I was confused but certainly interested.

With all my interest in doing my art, my secret drawings of female anatomy, here I was with a live shiny wet model, a real live breathing person to look at right next to me.

She continued talking to and I assumed working on Vern’s pleasure as he continued to sigh and moan. That made me really more nervous and then I heard her repeat a statement again and again until I finally realized she was talking to me. I froze in place but turned in her direction very slowly, worried, eyes trying to avoid looking at her forbidden parts but was compelled to. This experience seeing all portions of a live naked girl was a first in my life.

“Excuse me? I, I’m ... oh-uh, I’m sorry?”

“I’m Lilly. Who are you?” “Oh, ... uh, I’m, uh, new... , “ I stammered, voice shaking. She giggled as her eyes flashed. Your name really isn’t ‘New’ is it?” “Uh, ... n-o-o-o-o.” I stood, I’m sure, looking so bewildered. I looked down at her bare feet, remained silent for several moments. “I’m sorry.” “Your name isn’t ‘Sorry’ either,” she insisted. She reached out and put her hands on my rubber coat like she was commanding me, pulled forward on the coat. “C’mon. What is it really? I know you have one.”

I was so astonished at her appearance in a brief glimpse my response locked up and I again tried very hard to avoid staring at forbidden parts of her body touching close, available, dripping, glaring at me.

It seemed the sucking from the milking machines got louder, the humidity climbed higher. I got hot in my heavy rubber coat. My mind was screaming to keep my gaze below her knees or elevated above her breasts and I hated eye contact. A glance to the side told me the entire crew was paying close attention and it made this encounter even more desperate.

It was as though my eyes failing the rules, parochial, would reach a predetermined condemnation if I saw flesh accented with female nipples or other parts and especially if I liked what I saw. And I did.

It was as if I was starved to see nudity but was so conflicted about it. I let out a heavy sigh and left my mouth hanging open.

Lilly was in stark contrast to the crew, very energetic and personable, obviously not mentally challenged in the least and her bright appearance was striking especially for someone, me, who was engendered to be afraid of girls, regular ones who wore clothes. She was very unusual in her physique and adding to it the three men, new arrivals in the parlor, were also odd appearing. They had a demeanor I wasn’t used to.

I’d never been around so called “retarded” people, adults before. There were mongoloid kids with Down Syndrome we grew up with in the neighborhood. Their appearance was set, very recognizable, but the men I shared the bunk house with were not out of the ordinary in appearance other than, perhaps, a kind of gaunt look, a tendency toward a look of bewilderment, a stare as best I can describe.

I was completely surrounded with the shock of them all, all at once. Both odd and unusually cute naked, a bold contrast, maybe, no, surely to extremes. It seems I was confronted with something completely out of my realm. I remained stiff, standing, clenching my only defense, a dripping hose. I now failed to sense all the ripe cow manure stench which was so thick it could actually be tasted.

Looking at Lilly, perky wet, so at ease with herself was that amazing. Aside from her apparent bright personality she was overtly sexy by nature, albeit naked or not. I didn’t get the impression she was trying hard to be that way because she acted so natural. She gave the impression of a long seasoned farm hand but was very young by appearance, like my age.

“Nice to meet you New.” “My name is actually Tom.” She laughed. “New Tom, WE ARE GOING TO BE G-O-O-D FRIENDS! Okay?”

She came really close to me, well within my comfort zone and studied my eyes after reaching up and removing my glasses which made me want to fade with shyness and worry. I’d always felt unprotected without my glasses and I had an over protective sense of guarding them because I was very near sighted. They were my only pair. “OH ... uh, yes, of course.”

She looked, studied deeply into my eyes with a look of concern. After a few moments she said, “OH, you’re shy! I love that. You’re SO cute! How lucky.” I was sure to have turned bright red in the face and my spirit evaporated. Again, I looked down but avoided seeing her body and remained that way except noting how there was a smooth crotch, nothing sticking out. Again, all new exposure for me.

In a moment I felt her touch me under the chin with a lift to close my mouth and she bent forward to look up at my eyes again, smiling. “You ARE a-d-o-r- a-b-l-e New Tom. I can’t wait to get my hands on YOU later.” And she laughed looking around at the other milkers as if they were acknowledging her. “Yeah! This is going to be fun!”

She ran her hands down my chest, “Even more fun. This one is mine.” She looked around at the other milkers as if wanting approval. “It won’t be long New Tom.”

I tried to forget her last comments, unbelieving. I figured she was just an extroverted flirt or something.

Life made me reluctant to lend anyone my heart and I was always very cautious about who came in contact with it. Now this. “Don’t worry. You’re going to get to like it here a lot. I’m going to make sure of that. So many plans. You ARE the one. That’s a fact! And after we’re finished doing you, well. You just wait.” She seemed so excited as she looked me all over.

She was making fun of me because I was shy. “Plans?” “You’re the one?” Surely she was just having fun making fun of me. My nature always assumed I was the butt of everybody’s jokes and even in this incredibly odd situation I assumed the same to be true.

I’d traveled one hundred miles from my home environment and now these people were already making fun of me. Seems I was born to it.

She handed my glasses back, adjusted my hood with a big smile as if to tease me for wearing all the gear and studied me some more. “Okay, I’m going to get back to milking now New Tom. But you keep your eyes on me. I know you are afraid to,” she smiled as she looked around at the others. She moved again closer to my face and softly spoke, “But I also know you-want-to.” She laughed again. “You can’t fool me.” I trailed off trying to shrug off my apprehension. “Oh, no, well, ... uh.”

She laughed again. “Well, you’re going to find out in a very interesting way why I don’t wear clothes. You DID notice.” She spun around stepping back for a better view showing herself off, arms in the air. She looked around at the others grinning with her hand over her mouth. Stepping forward yet again she pushed herself up to me and forced me to look into her eyes as I back landed against stanchion pipes. “You wait. You’re going to see the sense of it soon. I’m much easier to wash off this way, really. You’ll see. It makes sense. You’re going to help me. And you won’t be needing all this rubber gear stuff either.”

She laughed and squeezed my coat tight, winked at me as if I was supposed to get her meaning and then went back to work.

Without trying to present too much gawking I watched her, astounded but certainly interested. She walked away and I studied her very cute backside moving, the impression of which made my natural male instincts spike. I felt aroused and she nodded at Vern with a wink and a raised thumb pointing back at me. He smiled.

Then she seemed to pay no further attention to me at all as she pushed headlong into a cow’s rear leg pit. With her baseball cap turned backwards she persuaded the cow to relax and “let her milk down” so it would flow into the milking machine.

This sight, all of her bending into the cow was so amazing I’m sure I stopped all washing for some length of time; don’t know how long. I noted all of her even though my schooling prompted me not to look but she was all wet and splattered with manure and stuff, a sight unbelievable yet very naturally alluring. And because all of them were so adept with their skills in milking I began to sense there was no threat of actual harm to fear.

First of all, I had not been in a milking parlor before, ever, and now I was washing cows just like I was supposed to know what I was doing. I did not. But this girl really seemed to like me. I had so many questions about what was going to happen next, no answers at all and the tension in my back was apparently my own because obviously nobody else was in shock.

Then Vern passing by stopped behind her and took a moment to use the warm water to gently wash her backside off which she seemed to appreciate as she continued to push into her cow. She put the milking machine on as he rubbed up and down into her butt crack. That really shocked my senses and they both looked in my direction and smiled some more.

The surprise of my current situation kept my mind toying with the idea maybe I should call my parents. Maybe I should tell them the truth. I was scared, very scared, because I was working with strange men and a very friendly naked girl. I was totally torn what to do with the situation. I didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. I didn’t want to scare my parents half to death with strange tales from the bunk house. Perhaps just one night more to make sure, curiosity satisfied, and truth is I was really tempted to see a little more of Lilly. Seeing Vern do that to her wasn’t frightening but somehow also really compelling.

I tried my best to keep washing faster but it was obviously hopeless. I wasn’t going to be able to keep ahead of all these proficient milkers. I started to spend more time watching what they were doing hoping to get a clue about every thing going on. But what struck me was how amazingly familiar Lilly was with the child minded milkers and they didn’t seem to mind her teasing them. In fact they loved it and returned her attention by touching her as well.

“Wow!” I thought of my nerdy friends back at school. They would never believe this.

She was very quick with her work. She liked to massage the milker’s backs in between her cows even while she kept six or more milking at once, taking time to rub the guy’s necks and backs and places even more sensitive.

She would reach around and give them a warm hug when she’d spent some moments fondling them. A quick kiss would follow. She seemed terribly fond of all of them and they, her as well. But they weren’t making too many attempts to fondle her back, mostly just accepting her intrusions. It was as if she assumed it her responsibility to maintain their happiness and welfare and they were very used to that.

I wondered if she was hired as a care taker for them but the idea was tested oddly when I saw her reach down their pants for what appeared to be some kind of an overly friendly grope which really got their attention each and every time.

That was an additional shock for me. I pondered the methods of care giving for the “retarded” and perhaps the necessity of a nude care giver. What an odd therapy. Maybe it worked. How would I know?

I pretended as best I could not to notice the attractiveness of Lilly enhanced by her wetness glistening giving me more to see than I knew I was allowed according to my deep parochial trained values. I was caught between a well conditioned conscience and plain old hetero-curiosity. But the men, whose leader maxed his intellectual development at about twelve years old, were probably incapable of being aroused sexually, my guess. Lilly’s attention was just really, really warm and being overly motherly.

It was a most interesting situation and left me full of wonder. Yes, full of wonder and more, more and more interested.

Needless to say I’d never before in my life seen anybody who acted like her. She was young yet so very worldly and sure of herself in a way I didn’t even understand and occasionally she would catch my eyes watching her. She had an extremely attractive walk in motion; at least I thought so, so naturally attractive to me although I’d not seen this before. Sure I was naive and young but I got that part of it.

Her eyes would twinkle when she noticed me, would actually flash, a sparkle with a wink and raised eyebrows like she had some special interest in me. I thought she may have even blown me a kiss. Her presence was kind of giving me chills.

After a while I began to fantasize about Lilly in my arms, massaging her. How could I not? It was so wonderfully sinful! I was washing my cow with strokes which were probably provoking as I dreamed of my new association with her when suddenly the force of a flat thud hit me hard on the back of the head from behind - real hard!

Were they attacking me? Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored them at all with my too easy trust. They were making a fool of me and now I was being assaulted!

I was dazed. I was all rubber and a hose hanging down from overhead entwining me as I turned around towards the center of the aisle to see a man standing in front and over me making wild gestures saying, “Vut The God-amn Hell You Tink You Are Doing? You Don’t Vash The Whole -- God-amn --Cow!! Vut’s the matter with you - you som-ophabitch?”

“OH!”

He was holding a small flat scoop shovel he had apparently just chose to whop me acting as if he was ready to use it again. I certainly flinched in my daze and was both scared and oddly relieved at the same time. Although it appeared I might get smacked again at least I would find out how to properly wash a cow, yes. And what was up with the milkers who had not told me how to do my job? Obviously things in general were all just way too terribly odd.

Like Vern this older man looked all in the world like Pop eye The Sailor only more so. He was slight of build and hard-wiry except for his forearms which were huge with beaten and weathered hands extending. I had no doubt he could have beaten me to death with those tools. I quickly recognized a similarity between his build in forearms and that of the bunk mates. Strange similarity but perhaps not and I was too scared to worry about it at the moment.

Meanwhile I hadn’t really expected my co-workers to hold my hand, make great teachers, to guide me through every step of my work. I sensed their smiles as I was getting read out in front of everybody and it led me to think maybe they wanted me to get in trouble so they could tease.

Then I realized this man was the dairy owner I’d seen briefly the day before. He looked different in a hat and he certainly looked different screaming at me. He hadn’t given me the time of day at the house but now he was giving me hell with his full angry attention as he whacked me again on the shoulder and it hurt. “OW!” This time he used the shovel edgewise and it was more painful. I had no ounce of bravery left.

I knew very well how to be meek and take my due as a kid because I’d long experienced harsh treatment from upper authority. I hardly said a word except, “Yes Sir, No Sir” and “Sorry Sir”. A string of expletives followed, seemed somewhat senseless other than the exhaust of pent up anger for who really knows what. He sure was mad. Turns out you’re supposed to wash the cow’s udders only to help the cow “let down her milk”. Now I felt more naked than my new milker girl friend, embarrassed as I was being chewed out in front of the whole crew.