The Story of the Milkmaid
I walk into the barn, tired. My Sunday best, feeling confining in the humidity of a hot August heat. Beads of sweat collect on my forehead and between my breasts under my cool cotton blouse. Feeling the stillness and the calmness of the barn wash over me and I smile, remembering the night before. And Henry. My body tingles at just the tiniest thought of him and our late night activities of the night before. Erotic. Rough. Taken.I stop moving, close my eyes and breathe in deep, enjoying the feel...