They arrived the following day. Five people in total. Kate who looked like a young Dolly Buster on a photo shooting in Texas complete with cowboy hat and skimpy outfit. Her younger brother Jesse was the apparent dimwit of the family and looking like the most inbred human being that one could come up with. With an attitude that was so laid-back one could have put a carpet on it. Tim and Jack were both smartasses who Ben suspected were fucking the horses and snapping pictures when no one was looking. The last one was Thomas. He seemed to be there only to observe and nothing else. What the deal was with him, Ben had no idea.
“So, you said that you like, wanted to sell your horses?”, Kate began after she had inspected them. “Percheron, all of them. Well, more or less.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that they are not like pure blooded Percheron. That is a breed of draft horses. I don’t know how much you know...”
“Barely nothing. Just pretend that I have no idea about horses at all.”
She nodded, gave him a long look and smiled. She sat down next to him and leaned close in a friendly manner. “Okay. So, yeah what you have here are, like Percheron mixes. That means that when it comes to, like, selling, we have to think about it. We are a stud farm. We like, breed horses. Clydesdales, that is. It ‘s like a different breed of horses, you know? They even have a different name. It is a bit like Oranges and Grapefruits. You can like, mix them together and like, make good juice, ya’know? But we are old-fashioned folks. We, like, prefer the originals.”
“Thanks”, Ben answered, thinking that he might not know much about horses, but was not stupid and he knew what a breed was.
“So we can like, take your horses, but that would be a favor to your grampa. Because we can’t like, do anything with them. They would just be like, in the way.”
“Yeah”, added Jesse, “We can’t, you know. Like, give you a lot of money and stuff for them.”
Nodding, Ben looked over to Kate. She had a jolly, almost silly face, and large tits. On her head was a straw hat, around her neck a pendant depicting Jesus in front of two crosses, sitting on the classic display of a UFO and holding his hands out in the sign of victory. When Kate noticed his flat stare, she even held it out for him to inspect it properly. Rambling nonsense about aliens, Jesus, the flatness of the planet and the ends of the earth. It sounded like someone had gathered up all the religious nonsense and all the cliches that one could gather, mashed them together and formed Kate out of it. Ben had a hard time trying to prevent the palm of his head from migrating to his forehead and slapping it hard. He had not believed that people like this really existed. But the cliches needed to have been born from somewhere, didn’t they?
Kate’s eyes were bright and straightforward and clueless… or where they? Blinking in surprise, he noticed that she had the kind of eyes that he had seen on businesswomen all over the world. A calculated friendliness.
On first glance, their offer would sound generous and a casual glance into the books would look legit. And a casual glance was exactly what they were aiming for. Did Kate belong to them as well? Maybe she did. It could be the reason why she was wearing a shirt so low cut that her breasts constantly threatened to abandon the cloth holding them back. And it could be the reason why she was walking and talking like a fucking dimwit. Maybe that was the kind of behavior that was expected of her. So she displayed it, served what they wanted to be free to take what she liked. The strategy of a good looking woman in a man’s society. Deliver what is expected and harvest to your delight.
His business attire snapped into place and he gave her a charming smile. “No problem”, he answered. “Thank you so much for the kind offer. I will think about it. My foot needs some healing time and as long as I am here, I can do good with a bit of company. The horses will provide for it in just the right amount by silently witnessing me flouncing around in a hammock and disapproving of it.”
“Company?”, she twittered, leaning in some more. “Does that mean that you are, like, all alone here?” Her hand found its way over his arms. “Wow, you are like, so strong! Didn’t know you city folks were like, into muscles. Thought you were all like, brains and stuff.” Her hands snaked up his arms and wrapped themselves around his shoulders. “You know, I can like, tell you a secret.” She snuggled closer and draped herself on his lap. “I am like, all alone too, you know? Maybe we can be together so we won’t be alone anymore.”
“That sounds appealing”, he answered mechanically.
A giggling, girlish laugh escaped her throat. “You don’t have to use like, fancy words with me. Just say yes or no.”
“Yes. But not now, my foot hurts a bit.”
“Of course”, she answered, shimmying a little on his lap, trying to cause an erection. “Then let me, like, know when you feel a little better. So I can, like, make you all better. Maybe the day after tomorrow? We can talk about the horses then too.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Wet and sloppy and with a lot of tongue.
Mechanically he went through the motions, nodded and wiped the wetness off his mouth with his thumb when no one was looking. Then he slapped her on the bottom for good measure, causing her to hop off his lap and waved when she flew toward her car like a jolly bouncy ball. Managing to wiggle her ass even more as she went. When she had reached the car, she turned, waving jovially and jiggling her tits. Then she blew him a kiss, darted into the car and reached out with her am to slap the side twice. “Let’s go Jesse!”
God, that act of her was so much over the top that he was unsure if it even was one. Had he seen the intelligence in her eyes, that calculating look? Or had he just imagined it because he was used to it?
Shaking his head, he went into the house and poured himself a glass of water to take his pills and make a call.
29 April 2018 at 02:13:07 MDT
Chapter five of the Business Manager in a Barn story.
Still suffering from the fact that I will not have internet till Monday when the technician comes somewhere between 14:00 and 20:00 (2-8pm) Uploading texts via mobile hotspot. It IS somewhat hampering my creative process to not be able to "get in the mood" properly. Buut it is okay. Mobile hotspot + writing at home without internet is still infinitely better than trying to share the mobile hotspot in a cafe. Just imagine what happened if someone walked past me. Mothers with children... Yep, so much better.
Anyway this is the fifth chapter of the Business Manager in a Barn. For more chapters of THIS story and other stories, check out my patreon account: https://www.patreon.com/Munkus69