The Farm (Part 1)

She walked out of the Job Fair, frustrated. No one was hiring. She’d been out of work long enough now that she had begun dipping into her savings to make ends meet.

Just a single girl, needing a single break, she thought, angry. Oh, she’d had offers, but for dates, not jobs. She was so tired of being judged on her looks. Despite trying to minimize them, her tits were an enormous issue. Sure, she could wear low-cut blouses and get hired that way, and if it came to that, she would. But for now, she had her pride, and her job skills. She’d worked hard to get where she was, but when the bubble burst, she’d come  tumbling down like so many others.

The frustrations of trying to find a decent job, of being not being accepted for the professional she was, and the “just for the looks” where whirling in her brain;  thus distracted, she did not see the man until she mowed him down.

The jolt of the collision very nearly set her on her ass, her purse flying off her shoulder to land between two parked cars, his briefcase flying open, flyers scattering across the parking lot in the capricious March wind. She caught herself, staggering, even as an arm shot out to grab her forearm.

“Oh, ” she looked up into an extremely handsome face. “I am so terribly sorry. Are you…”

“okay? ” he interjected, a brief smile dashing across his lips. “Fine, how ’bout you? You seem to have taken the brunt of our little collision.”

She pulled her blazer down with a sharp tug, briefly outlining her large tits. His interest sharpened. Yes, she was the one he was looking for. He was certain of it.

“Look, why don’t I take you for a coffee or something. It’s obvious I won’t be attending the Fair just now…” his voice trailed off, as he looked at his flyers dancing about the ground.

“I-i’m so so sorry,” she responded. Although she didn’t usually think twice about brushing off a stranger, she really was responsible for his dilemma. The least she could do was accept his invitation.

“I can follow you in my car, ” she told him, and he readily agreed.


“You know,” he said as they were finishing their muffins, “you might be able to help me. You say you are unemployed, and I am looking for a very specific type of person. ”

“Go on,” she urged, laughing a bit. She liked his look, his class. He obviously was doing well for himself, if she was any judge of menswear. That suit, excellent on his body, was custom or she was Old Mother Hubbard! He had impeccable manners, and had flatly refused her offer to pay for their treats.

“Well, I work for a consortium, and we’re looking for a spokesperson. We don’t want your typical model, you know? All big boobs, if you’ll pardon the expression, and nothing between her ears. Someone who can speak to our product, be informative, as well as  a viable link between our product and the perceptions of our target audience.”

“Model? ” she asked, sceptically.

“For milk. Wholesome. Healthy. Attractive. You are all those things, you know. I’m not asking you to trade on your looks only, but why not use every skill you have? You are well packaged…and only someone who is comfortable with her innate beauty can do that. So many others try, but it’s very  obvious to me that you are quite comfortable in your skin. It shows.”

She looked at him, then down at her hands, busily tearing apart the muffin wrapper.

“Lets say I go for it, ” she began.

“Yes, ” he cut in quickly. “Let’s say exactly that. C’mon Lisette, take a chance. Once you’re in you won’t be able to think about any other type of job ever again. Promise!”

Oh, he full well knew the power of that smile, she thought, as she gazed into his sincere brown eyes. Still, nothing else had come her way in a long while, and things were getting tighter than she liked to admit.


She let go the tension between her shoulders, eased out a soft sigh,  and repeated herself.

“Okay,” and she  nodded for emphasis. “When do I start?”

He smiled across at her. Lord, but he was beautiful to look at!

“How about now? Care to follow me to the lab where it all begins and get to know the folks there?”

He held out his hand to her, and she let him bring her to her feet.


The drive to the farm was a welcome relief. After an initial debate about her following him, or her driving with him, she acquiesced. Now, head resting against the soft leather of his car’s headrest, she felt she’d made an impressive recovery from her near-catastrophic collision. Had it only been a few hours ago?

He’d followed her to her apartment, after advising her that her business attire was too much for the farm. Clad in slim-fitting jeans, a casual print tee-shirt, and a denim coat, she was comfortable and at ease with the man beside her.

He drove carefully,  efficiently. He never cursed the traffic snarl as they left the city behind, and she noted that he only nudged the sleek vehicle a mile or so over the posted speed limit. As they rolled into the countryside,  she looked about her with interest. She’d never been much of a country girl. It was pretty out here, away from the urbane life she took for granted.  The trees shifting in the restless wind, the fields beginning to green with early grasses and wildflowers spilling daubs of color along the edge of the roadway.

Conversation between them was light and occasional. He was content to let her find her peace. She was content to be passive.  She felt the car begin to slow, glanced at him.

“Are we there, then?” she asked, as she could not see much of a road for the overarching of tree’s and bushes.

“Taking the back road into the farm,” he replied, throwing her a charming smile.

Wasn’t Ted Bundy handsome, she wondered, a brief shiver running up her spine.

The car crested a small rise, and ahead of them lay the farm. Spilling out from the woods behind them, the pastures were dotted by black and white cows. In the far distance was a series of buildings,  and behind them, an impressive home? Funny, she thought of most farmhouses as quaint little things…even from here she could see that this  home was first class.

After about 20 minutes, they passed the barns and outbuildings. The smell of manure was pervasive and while not completely unpleasant, it did have her crinkling her nose.

“You do get used to it in time, ” he said with a grin.

“mmmmmhmmm,” she responded, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

“Citygirl” he teased.

She nodded, grinning.

Another 15 minutes passed before she could see them approaching the house. Distance was deceiving out here in the boonies, she thought, and with no other properties around for what must be miles and miles.  they drove around to the rear of the house. It had been styled in the manner of a farm-house, with a full, wrap-around porch, but she could tell it was every bit as impressive as many of the residences back in the City.

A man was coming out of the back door as Abe parked the car.

He held his hand out in greeting.

“So, You’re Lissette? Welcome to the Farm. Abe called from town and told me he’d be bringing you by for an audition.”

“Audition?” she faltered. She had been sure she had the job.

“Well,” Abe’s voice offered the briefest of apologies, “Mack wanted to get a feel for how you would work out, first.”

Mack smiled at her. “You are a looker. Wholesome. Nice body. Let’s see how you do with a glass of milk in your hands, eh?” he grinned down at her as he gently ushered her into the house.

The kitchen was enormous. No. Ginormous, she amended. Long rows of stainless steel counters, spartan and  gleaming cleanly, lined the room. A variety of apparatus, for what purpose she hadn’t a clue , clustered around the sink where a wire rack held a collection of freshly washed dishes.

She was led through this room, and to a small dining nook just outside the double wide door frame.

“Stand here.” Mack guided her to a particular spot, then motioned her to stay. “Be right back” and he went back into the kitchen. She heard the sound of a large door opening, and the unmistakable sound of liquid pouring. It reminded her that she’d not used the bathroom in some time. She whispered that to Abe.

“Hang on, kiddo, there’ll be time for that in a few minutes. I’ll let Mack know, though” and he disappeared into the kitchen himself.

She gazed around the open space around her. Every room that she saw had a metal bar running around the edge of the floor.  She wondered if it was some new-fangled heating supply that she’d not heard of….everyone was going green these days, even farms.

Mack and Abe entered the nook together. Mack held a tall, frosty glass filled with milk. He passed it to her.

“Alright now, no script, just speak naturally. Sell me that milk. And when you’re done, drink it all up, and let me see your milk mustache and a big old Farm smile.”

She paused a moment, formulating her thoughts. She spoke naturally, sincerely, and when done, drank down all the milk as asked. It had a somewhat different flavor than what she was used to. Maybe that was the difference Farm Fresh made, she wondered.

She was still smiling when the glass slipped from her fingers, nimbly caught by Abe who was expecting it.

She was still smiling when she was caught up in the strong arms of Mack, and slung over his shoulder, limp and unconscious.

“Milk…does a body good…” chuckled Abe.

“Hell of a body at that, my friend,” replied Mack as the two ascended the stairs to the second floor.