Chapter 2

She sat there studying him. Her eyes full of a mixture of compassion, humor, and perhaps doubt. She woke up fifteen minutes before three and had walked downstairs to make hot coffee for Trent and hot tea for herself. She then headed back to upstairs to shower. When she reappeared, she had on a pair of jeans, a blue denim shirt and her hair was braided. She headed down the stairs and breathed in the thick aroma of coffee. Pamela loved the scent, but hated the taste, she knew though that Trent admitted liking it and so when she had gone shopping she'd picked up a fresh can of the hair growing confection and now another memory filled her senses. Will had enjoyed coffee too and had insisted on living off of it.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a sound coming from Trent's room. She stopped and listened, concentrating all her thoughts on the low hum. She smiled when she realized her city boy hadn't woken up yet and his alarm was blaring.

She'd pounded on his door and eventually she conceded defeat and opened it. He was spread out, in his boxers, legs tangled in the covers and the dim light from the bathroom and the hall cascaded over him. She stared for a moment at his young body. A hard chest and thick hair accented broad shoulders and long legs. The noise of the alarm though would not allow her to concentrate on her employee and she silently cursed the offending sound, walked over and shut it off.

"Trent," she called out and shoved his shoulder with her hand. He jerked slightly and pulled a pillow over his head. She laughed and yanked it off of him.

What happened next had been a shock to both of them; he rolled over grabbed her arm and pulled her down to him. She was on her back and him above her before she could catch her breath. His mouth was inches from hers, before he woke up and realized what was happening. She watched dawning cross his features and he jumped off her. His apology filled the air and he promised to be out of the house in ten minutes.

It took Pamela a moment to realize what he was saying and she pushed herself off the bed. "Trent, stop. I startled you, no big deal. I'm not hurt and you did nothing that warrants you leaving, so just get a quick shower and be in the kitchen in ten minutes for coffee and a fast bite."

She didn't want to admit that having him over her, had been very pleasing, nor did she want to draw notice to the morning wood that she'd felt pressed against her stomach. Instead she walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, then she reacted. She felt the heat of her skin increase tenfold and she bit back the giggle that threatened to escape her. "Jill is one lucky lady," she muttered and headed to the kitchens.

Trent stared into his cup. He felt like an idiot. Oversleeping, assaulting Pamela, and then while he showered he'd jerked off to the memory of having her beneath him, a place he'd forced her to be after she'd been kind enough to wake him up. She'd interrupted a dream, a very hot and erotic dream of him and Jill going at it.

When he felt the touch of a woman's hand he thought it was Jill and if he hadn't felt the unfamiliar barrier of clothing between him and his "dream" he wouldn't have woken up, but he had felt it. He opened his eyes and saw the prettiest green ones staring up at him in shock. He immediately apologized and released her, offered to quit and then was told to ignore it, that it was no big deal. When she left, he looked down at his swollen cock and thought, "Damn. No big deal? How big had her husband been?" Then he cursed himself for thinking she was talking about his hard on.

She coughed and pushed the coffee pot his way. "Stop Trent," she said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Stop thinking about it. I'll just wake you up in a different way next time. Perhaps tug on your ankle or something."

He laughed and poured another cup of coffee. "Thanks, Pam. I am sorry though. I didn't mean to sleep in and I sure didn't mean to attack you." He shook his head and sighed.

"You didn't attack me. As far as sleeping in goes, you were up late I assume. I'm sure this first night was hard. You aren't used to going to bed so early. You'll be fine tonight. I'll work you so hard, you'll be begging for the comfort of that bed."

She stood up and placed their plates and her empty mug in the sink. The biscuits would tie them over while they brought the cows in and she'd help him with the first weeks milking, by the weekend he should be okay on his own and she could deal with other things around the farm.

"Thanks, again for not taking me up on my offer to leave."

"You're very welcome," she answered back. "All set?" she asked.

"I do believe so." He stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. It was an old one that went with a pair of sweats he wore on his morning jogs, back on campus. It would serve to keep the morning chill off and he pulled it on over the long-sleeve flannel shirt he'd put on that morning. His jeans hugged his frame and a pair of boots kept his feet protected from the evidence of "farming" that he was sure was going to be there by the end of the morning.

They walked outside. The stars starting to disappear and the sun was a couple of hours away from shining. "Here," she told him, handing him a flashlight. "You probably will need it the first couple of trips to the barn, but eventually you'll know the paths by heart and follow them with your eyes closed.

"You have a lot of faith in this city slicker," he laughed and aimed the beam toward the barn. They made their way there and she flicked on the lights to the parlor and the holding pen. She showed him the bulk tank and ran through the reason for having it, as well as what temperature it needed to maintain in order for the milk to remain safe for storage. She then explained that Evan Turner was the local dairy man that would come by and haul the milk away, a check would be in the following week for what they supplied him with, or what the herd did.

"Well let's get started," he said. He felt like a kid again, learning something for the first time. They walked back outside and the morning light was threatening to fill the day. The sun still was not up, but the dawn was awakening. The sounds of low mews filled the air and he looked toward them. "Cool."

"What?" Pamela asked, stepping up to his side.

"They're coming in already."

"Yea, they do that. They know what time it is. Their sore and tender, so they are more than ready to come in, but we still have to make a count of them and if we have any missing we have to find them."

They walked between the herd shouting and swatting at the more stubborn ones. Eventually they had them pinned in the holding area and she stepped up on the fencing, counted the heads and then recounted twice. Trent counted too and when they agreed on the number, they headed back inside. By now the first peek of the sun was showing its brightness and it would be a couple of hours before they walked back into its rays.

Trent had managed to not get kicked and had quickly picked up on the rhythm of washing, milking, rinsing and dipping of the teat. By the time they had sprayed the concrete flooring of both the milk stalls as well as the holding pen, Pamela's doubts were set aside. She knew he'd do well on his own. They washed up in the small sink and sprayed off their boots before heading back to the house.

"Need help?" he asked her, when she pulled out eggs and meat for breakfast.

"Sure," she said, handed him a carton of eggs and then pulled milk from the refrigerator. They again found themselves working together like a well-oiled machine. He cooked up two omelettes while she pulled more biscuits from the oven and cut up fruit for them to enjoy. Before long they sat in her kitchen eating and ignoring the odor of anything but breakfast.

"So?" she asked.

He grinned. "I love it," he told her.

She laughed. "Wait till you've done it for as many years as I have."

"How long has that been?" Trent asked her.

"I taught school first. Elementary Education, until I met Will. That was," she thought a moment, "twenty-five years ago. I was twenty-eight. I'd taught school since college, completed the training in a couple of years, because I doubled up and sometimes tripled up my classes. Once I met Will though I was determined to be a wife and mother." She shrugged her shoulders. "I quit teaching and tried to do just that, but no kids came from our union."

"Sorry about that. I have a feeling you'd have liked to have had one or two little William boys running around and I'm sure he'd have enjoyed a lovely daughter or two."

She smiled and added, "Yes, we would have, but it didn't happen. William passed away five years ago. I could have sold the farm and the animals, gone back to teaching, but I decided that I was too in love with it and so I had to keep working on that bank payment. It felt nice to hand that loan officer the final one."

"I'm sure it did."

She grinned back. "Now you're here and I find myself enjoying the company."

"My pleasure. What's next on the agenda?" he asked, rising and gathering their dishes. She walked with him to the sink and together they washed, dried and put away the plates, cups, and utensils

"Many, many things," she said and looped her arm through his.

She looked up at him and promised not to run him into the ground his first day. He grinned, but felt something stirring inside as she walked beside him. When they separated to move through the door, he felt a loss that surprised him. It quickly dissolved when she took his arm again. Trent denied the meaning of what he felt, but enjoyed the rush of electricity that moved through him.

Pamela showed him many things that morning, even instructing him on how to operate some of the farm equipment. By the time she left him to wander about the farm on his own, she was feeling an attraction to the young man and hoped she hadn't forced her feelings on him by accident.

Afternoon came and went, they met briefly for lunch, light sandwiches and lemonade. Then they worked together in her garden. They picked what needed to be picked and he learned a bit more about plants and the things one did to store them for winter. When evening milking came around he impressed her greatly with his what he'd managed to retain over the course of their day. That night at supper, the meal was a repeat of the night before, but this time the leftovers were finished and nothing was put away for later. Trent ate like a farmer, thus delighting his employer.

"Wine and pie?" Trent asked when he looked up at the patio door and saw his boss. He had cut them two pieces of pie and just like the night before, waited for her on the patio.

"To celebrate your first day, just one glass though, I wouldn't want to have to wake you up from a drunken stupor," she said and poured them each a glass.

"We wouldn't want that. I attacked you once in a sleepy haze, a drunken stupor could get me fired" He rolled his eyes, then sipped at his wine.

She laughed and took a drink of her beverage. The night breeze caressed them both and she closed her eyes. The scent of his cologne filled the air. The aroma musky and erotic. She liked it, a lot, probably more than she should have. It was woodsy and smelled like Trent should smell. She wondered if Jill liked it. That thought made her think of Trent and his girlfriend. Jill would be coming up on Friday. She bit her lip, hoping they were quiet lovers and not loud ones.

Trent watched her face relax and then shift as whatever thoughts she had crossed her mind. His muscles were sore, but they were a good sore, the "I worked my ass off today and damn, it feels good" kinda sore. He couldn't imagine the woman beside him doing this for the last five years by herself.

She'd shared with him the circumstances that led up to her husband's death. He was much older than she and his heart had grown weak. She found him one morning in the barn, collapsed, he never woke from his coma and died two weeks later. Pamela also shared with him a bit more of herself. She and William married when she was twenty-three and William had been fifty-eight.

When she noticed his shock in their ages she only smiled and shrugged, telling him she loved her husband and that was all that mattered. He had quickly agreed, but inside he just couldn't imagine loving someone thirty-five years older than him.

He'd now spent a night and a day with Pamela. He now knew why someone would toss age and convention to the wind and love the woman he was working for. For a brief moment he wondered what it would be like to love her. He was twenty-three and she was fifty-three, thirty years. "Yea," he thought to himself, "I can see it... Will was a lucky man."

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he had. When he awoke, it was to the sight of Pamela tucking a throw blanket around him. He stared at her as she worked, not noticing he was awake. When she turned to leave, he stopped her. His hand wrapped around her wrist and he held her for a moment. He said nothing, just watched her turn to face him and stare down into his blue eyes. They both felt it. He'd stake his life on it. His cock started to rise and his lips parted. His tongue snaked out and moistened the twin petals of flesh.

Pamela stood there. An ember had been burning in her all day and as his fingers gripped her wrist she could feel the bead of heat growing brighter. She chewed her lower lip and took a deep breath, before pulling herself free of his grip.

She swallowed nervously and whispered, "Goodnight."

Pam headed to her bedroom, the dirty dishes forgotten as she made her way up the steps. She needed to reach her sanctuary before she turned around and offered herself to the man downstairs. Once she was safely locked inside her bedroom, she went to the bathroom and hid in a steaming pile of bubbles and hot water. Her hands skimmed over her breasts and stomach. She teased herself until the water was sloshing over the rim of the tub and her sex was throbbing against her seeking fingers. The primal grunt that left her throat echoed through the room and she shuddered in relief from the pent up passion of the day. It had been a long time since she'd toyed with herself. She'd done it a few times after her husband passed, but then it was no longer fulfilling, his memory had faded somewhat and the fantasy of making love to him had diminished. Now as she climaxed a second time, it was the face of Trent that she saw between her slick thighs. She went to bed that night hungry for more of him.

A sound reached her and she stopped breathing for a moment. She heard footsteps on the stairs. They came half way up and then stopped. She knew whose they were. She waited. Would he come to her? Would she let him in? Would she stop him from taking what only one man had ever taken? She didn't have answers and when she heard the receding sounds of his footsteps she burrowed into her blankets, unsure if she was thankful or extremely disappointed. Extremely disappointed was what she was afraid her answer would be if she explored the feeling deeper.

Trent lay in bed; she was gone before he could pull her back and tell her he wanted to sleep with her. Was that a good thing? Right now with his swollen cock in his hand he was shouting "No" in his mind. He came all over his hand and stomach. The white pearls coated his balls and he groaned as the seeds flowed over him. He was in trouble and knew it. Three more nights and Jill would be there. That was what he needed a nice weekend fuck and then he'd be okay. He was just missing his girl. He was sure of it, or so he thought.