Deathly White Thighs

CHAPTER 1

Romance, oh why couldn't he experience romance? Just the once would do, thought Tom O. Bates whose trail of mixed-bag seductions lay in his wake like feathers of a rooster attempting to escape the red-faced farmer's wife wielding an axe and intent on having her sleep interrupted by only one cock at dawn.

Tom was an unsuccessful writer of sexy novels, rejected because his sentences were unacceptable. Too long. Another reason was although his hero and heroine met in the first chapter or at least the reader learned they knew each other, Tom's hero kept screwing lesser female characters and inevitably the heroine looked elsewhere for the man of her dreams. Not good.

Almost as fatal for his literary ambitions, although he was American and lived in America he'd slept around widely in many countries, tainting his literary style. His humor and internationally expanded outlook were considered un-American by in publishing house assessment editors and they considered his style fell outside well-worn formulas. That of course was Tom's final flaw: he'd stupidly never attempted to publish outside of America.

Tom leaned over the stone abutment of a 350-year old bridge in Vermont where tree leaves were turning. A cock of the feathered kind had awoken him pre-dawn and now he rested, attempting to digest the cold cereal mash the lazy bitch of a farmer's wife had left out for him. Breakfast it was not. She deserved to be shafted by her husband after breakfast, as well as before dawn when the cock crowed.

Yawning and thinking he'd better fetch the cows in, the farmhand cum collector of reject slips from book publishers was about to attend to his lowly-paid chores when he noticed a young woman with golden hair floating down the stream, the hem of her white party dress up around her neck and clearly she was without panties. Tom crossed to the other side of the bridge and watched the corpse float headfirst onwards to where? He didn't know.

She'd be the kid of rich parents attending the reform school upstream for wayward girls. Probably she'd been discarded beside the stream last night by male staff rampaging through the drugged-up and sex-starved college students whose understanding or desire for reform was negligible, if not zero. Poor kid, apart from her depraved habits she looked okay to become a mother. He vulva appeared well-set between deathly white thighs anchored to quality-looking child-bearing hips, not that he was any authority but his imagination was vivid enough to allow him to think like that.

The two most feminine members of the 11-cow herd, Betsy and Maud, refused to come to the gate when Tom called them for milking. In fact they ignored him. Tom trudged down to them picking up a stick ready to discipline the bovine delinquents and found they were staring at the corpse. Miss White with her deathly white face and white dress was tangled by hair in the drooping willows and moaning.

Tom was halfway cracking the two cows along with the stick when he stopped.

Moaning?

"Christ!"

Tom raced back and waded into the stream backwater. He felt Miss Very White's face. It was icy cold. But so was the stream. It seemed impossible she could be alive, the cold all but closing down vital organs. But then he was a would-be author, although taking a break, with a mind where everything was possible. Authors needed that facility to extricate themselves when they boxed their characters into impossible situations.

Tom quickly dragged the corpse, er, young woman to the bank by the hair thinking she'd be a heavy sod to carry. Miraculously Betsy had returned alone to the bank and her huge dark eyes showed signs of fretting. Well at least they looked slightly animated. Tom threw the...er...woman over Betsy's back and the cow turned and almost trotted after the herd in the distance winding its way homeward. To the dairy parlor actually.

When Betsy reached the barn Tom pulled the woman to his chest and staggered inside and threw her on some loose hay and covered her with a canvas cow blanket. He left to hurry Betsy along to start milking before his boss Kevin finished yet another marathon bout of molesting his wife Mrs Judd. Kevin liked to watch Tom at work. Tom wondered if Kevin was perverted so never turned his back on him and that could be rather awkward, like when preceding Kevin through the doorway to the table. Presumable Kevin thought Tom had good manners, always asking Kevin to go first. With his thoughts multiplying like that Tom forgot about the lady in white in the barn. He'd intended taking proper blankets to her and a couple of hot water bottles.

After lunch Tom was sitting at the window idly watching the fat thighs of Mrs Judd above her stocking tops as she hung out washing when he began thinking of the shapely thighs of the young woman in white.

"Christ! I forget about her. I've left her to die."

Tom scooped some hot soup from the pot and hurried to the barn. Miss White was actually quite warm with some color in her cheeks. He soaked his dirty handkerchief into the soup and pressed it against Miss White's lips. The lips moved and Miss White swallowed. Progress was slow but after thirty minutes Tom stopped, pleased Miss White had received some victuals. He checked under the blankets and found the water-induced wrinkles were receding. Stroking the soft hair between her legs he had romantic thoughts and wondered if she'd ever invite him to enter.

Walking back to the farmhouse to begin scrapping off peeling paint, his afternoon chore, Tom went by Kevin who was watching a ram mount a couple of sheep who didn't even bother stop grazing. That's typically Kevin and that's typically females, Tom thought sourly.

Just when he was about to begin scraping paint Tom thought...barn...Kevin. Christ if Kevin went into the barn he'd molest that woman for at least an hour and in her unconscious and weakened state she'd be unable to fight off the fiend. He raced inside, knowing Mrs Judd would be watching Soaps on TV and phoned the Sheriff's Department to report a missing blonde young woman in white.

"Yes, there's an APB out on a 22-year-old missing from the Walton Finishing School for Young Ladies. Tom Bates you jerk, you've kidnapped the sweet young thing and had your way with her you pig and now you've been forced by your guilty conscience to report her," said the dispatcher, who was a friend of Tom's mother. "Deputies will be coming out to get you both -- you'll swing for this you creep."

Friend of his mother's? Friend seemed unlikely he thought, not yet ready to panic.

Tom was sure the death penalty in his state was limited to crimes against the Governor and burning the flag. Or was that correct? Kidnapping -- but what about kidnapping? He ran off for a nervous pee thinking he should be a hero, not a fucking menace to society. That was Kevin.

Deputies in two cars arrived, sirens wailing, followed by a ambulance that overtook them in the long straight to the farm gate corner. A deputy immediately handcuffed and then cuffed Tom and read him his rights. He then snarled, "Lead us to her you weirdo."

Minutes later Kevin, who because of excessive ear wax had not heard the sirens, was approaching the barn when the ground shook as the three vehicles roaring towards him went by on both sides, braking heavily. He was handcuffed as a suspected accomplice.

One of the deputies cuffed Miss White awake and although she was barely conscious he pointed to Tom and Kevin said, "Tell me Miss in your own words, are these the two guys who kidnapped and had sex with you repeatedly?"

"I-I've never seen those g-guys, ever."

"Of course, you were blindfolded all the time. Get her to hospital guys, I want her medically examined. Call Deputy Jones and ask her to meet you there and stay with the kid until sperm samples have been retrieved."

Kevin protested his innocence but said if he was being charged with any crime he'd like an hour with the young woman to justify the charge.

A deputy, father of a 22-year-old daughter, attacked and Kevin hit the ground unconscious.

Tom looked sympathetically at Miss White and she whined, "Get away from me you smelly farmhand."

"There, conclusive evidence," said Tom's arresting deputy as he clouted Tom's head against the roofline above the car door, gleefully failing to follow correct procedures.

The Sheriff stood in front of the bruised and battered Tom, whose right eye was almost closed, the small finger on his left hand was dislocated and he had welts from rubber tubing all over his back and shoulders.

"Have you guys being mistreating our suspect?"

"No," lied the deputies.

"Uncuff him. Larry you come with me. I want to look at the scene with the kid. His story is too preposterous to be untrue and if Kevin the Roach had gotten to the girl in the barn she would have been awash with semen. Something doesn't add up here. My present thinking is you guys were too keen to made arrests. Both of my daughters have told me Tom was the only guy in the district to seduce them with dignity and his mom is salt of the earth."

"You know my mom?" Tom asked, as the Sheriff pushed the dislocated finger back into position.

Smiling benevolently at Tom's howl of pain, Sheriff Johnston said he knew Tom's mom intimately and he and Tom's father occasionally went on whoring weekends across the state line.

The contract forensic team accompanying the Sheriff to Judd Farm overtook them on the long straight but immobilized their vehicle in taking out a gatepost turning into the property. Tom watched everything, making mental notes He knew another novel was unfolding in his head.

The now sullen forensic team took samples under the direction of the Sheriff. They found samples of the young lady's hair (her identify had been confirmed as Jessie Harrington) on the cow cover and used forceps to drop the soup-soaked filthy handkerchief into a plastic bag. They took plaster casts of the docile Betsy's hoofs. Down in the bottom meadow they retrieved more hair and strands of white fabric on the willows where in his statement, unchanged under duress, Tom had said he'd found Jessie caught in the tree. Tom defensively and sensibly had not disclosed seeing Jessie floating under the bridge earlier that morning.

The forensic team examined the pasture and measured the extra depth of pugs at the point where Tom had asserted he'd placed Jessie on the back of Betsy. Although skeptical they were thorough with their examination and took casts of a set of those deep pugs and of Tom's boot imprints. Tom was given a thin tube with a stopper and asked to provide a semen sample. He came back from behind a tree trunk with the tube overflowing and apologized, saying he hadn't whacked off or had a woman in almost a month. The guys in the forensic team looked at the huge sample jealously while their overweight female leader stared at Tom, licking her lips.

The Sheriff ordered the deputy to uncuff Tom and said he was free to go but not to leave town pending the outcome of further processes.

"We need to have experts interrogate Miss Harrington as soon as she's recovered sufficiently. But I satisfied before the DNA results are back, including data on her samples, that Tom here is hero. The evidence in his favor appears solid. Now Pete, note this question and Tom's answer.

"Why did you place Miss Harrington in the barn instead of taking her to the house for emergency attention?"

"Because I knew if Kevin had gotten her hands on her he'd plow into her and in her current condition I didn't think she'd be up to that."

"And?"

Tom wasn't sweating as he was telling the truth and the Sheriff noted that.

"I concluded she was safer in my hands than Kevin's and no way would I interfere with her. She appeared a bit classy for me, even when near dead. That's all Sheriff."

"Good man Tom. I'll fetch you to see her when she's in better shape. She'll want to thank you for saving her life."

"No thanks, she'd not wish to she the likes of me."

"But the media will want to photograph and film you two together, she kissing you. It's a sensational survival story and will probably go nation-wide. She spent a couple of hours in the water, drifting for probably ten miles including all bends."

"I don't want to see her. That's final Sheriff. And tell the media if they come on to Judd Farm looking for me they'll get an ass full of birdshot, women too. That's not a reckless warning Sheriff, that's just me protecting myself from media harassment. You know what they're like."

"I'll tell them. Well just aim for the asses Tom. Shoot for their eyes and I'll personally arrest you."

An enterprising film and camera crew in a helicopter next morning swooped on Tom herding the cows in for milking and captured the only pictures taken of Tom. The selected photo of Tom hurling dry cow dung at the chopper was syndicated around the world along with the remarkable rescue story of the millionaire's daughter.

Tom, who'd been cuffed almost senseless by the enraged Kevin for not giving Kevin a crack at the young woman and getting Kevin in trouble with the law, had kept clear of the house, entering to eat his cold dinner after Kevin had gone to bed and then leaving before dawn next morning. Later that day Kevin came out and yelled if Tom didn't treat Kevin and Mrs Judd with respect he'd come after him with an axe. So Tom fronted up. Kevin sourly showed him the front page of the newspaper with the rescue story filling the entire page.

"You look an idiot trying to bring down a helicopter with cow shit," growled Kevin but Tom wasn't really listening. His eyes devoured the princess. She really was beautiful.

"It says the parents are millionaires," Mrs Judd said.

"The press knows nothing. They probably saw the parent's had a limo so thought money and then thought millionaires."

Kevin laughed derisively and said what did Tom know about the media and the outside world? He knew nothing."

"You could have killed that poor girl locking her up in the barn," Mrs Judd said. "You should have given her to Kevin. He'd know what to do with her."

"Boy, wipe that stupid grin off your face when Mrs Judd is talking to you."

"It's not a grin, it's a sneer."

"What do you know about sneering? I ought to take my belt off and flog you proper."

"Leave him Kevin. He's probably thinking of sliding between that lovely young lady's creamy thighs."

"What!" Kevin roared. "Where did you put the fucking axe?"

Tom ran from the house and headed for the bottom pasture to mope. He hadn't told anyone but since he'd found the victim and saved her, he'd had the idea of restoring her to health and keeping her in the barn and teaching her to love him. When she was thoroughly bedazzled he'd begin working her up until she was screaming to him to put it in. He'd slide in on a film of pussy juice, close his eyes and dream he was in heaven.

A small helicopter flew over quite low. Tom reached for cow dung, avoiding the moist ones. It went over the trees and landed by the house. Tom thought it would be medics, coming to take Kevin to hospital, telling him his sperm samples had shown he had mutations in his genes.

Later Tom moved down to the flood scoured bank and began tossing pebbles into the stream. He gradually began to feel sexy, the sun heating him, so he unzipped.

"Hello."

Tom grinned, lengthening his stoke. This was so unreal it was uncanny.

"I say, what you're doing looks interesting."

Tom's flaying hand slowed and he turned. It was Miss Harrington, giving a cute toothy grin and holding her right hand by her ear and waving her fingers at him. Her breasts were pushed forward as if yearning to fill his mouth.

"Would you care for me to finish that for you? I am rather experienced."

"No thanks," trembled Tom, almost put off his stroke.

"Well don't let me interrupt you. Let me see how far you can shoot your load."

The shock of the woman materializing in Tom's favorite masturbating place and now her unbelievable comments cringed his cock into limp submission in one second flat. It probably would feel too disgraced to shoot for a week having been caught out like that.

Tom stood and turned and she looked surprised as if wondering where the best part of him had gone. She watched him pack away something very small.

"I'm sorry. You cock has taken an embarrassing hit being surprised getting a good whack. I've met Mrs Judd and know there'd be no joy for you there."

"There are no women in my life these days," Tom said, stretching the truth a bit because he was allowed to walk home Sundays and two of his mom's friends usually were free to give him a warm welcome, any way he wanted it.

"Oh you poor darling. Should I roll over for you right now?"

"No thank you. I was just thinking about wooing you and finally you were so overwhelmed in your love for me you sighed and urged me to fill you."

"Love you? Very unlikely darling. I have found Mr Right. I've just come to thank you for saving my life and, I understand from Sheriff Menzies, you also saved me from being shafted by that wretched Mr Judd. If you insist on sex, well that's fine. Have that as well as the money. You can have my virgin ass if that will take that grumpy look off your face."

"I don't want sex from you until you are screaming for it. And I don't want money just for pulling you out of the water. God, what do you take me for! Tell your father to give the reward money to a street busker."

"That would cause a street riot. It's the princely sum of 200 grand and from my mom actually."

Tom missed that bit about mom. "Well tell him to send it anonymously to the IRS as conscience money in lieu of some of his tax evasions."

The young woman appeared totally impressed. "God, you are heroic. A real mix as you're also grumpy, stupid and extremely cynical and smell of cow poop."

"That's not me. You're standing in a wet one."

"Oh God, look at my shoes. I'm going to die."

At last Tom managed a grin. "God you over-act. You're not going to die today unless your chopper goes down. Step out of it and I'll attend to your shoe. No, there is no need to pull your dress up to your tits. I've already seen your pussy when you were floating. Best one I've ever seen, by a country mile."

"Oooh. You're capable of saying really lovely things to me. Do you take the opportunity to lick it?"

Aghast, Tom struggled on manfully to reply in the manner his mother would wish. "No, my first duty as a responsible citizen was to save your life. I ensured you were safe and warm and later remembered sustenance, so drizzled hot soup through your lips." . "Ohmigod, you really are heroic."

At that point Tom decided he'd had enough of her sweet talk so looked at her sternly. "Cut the crap will you. Hand me your green shoe and I'll wash it to return it to you white."

Jessie leaned on Tom's shoulder while she wriggled into her water-soaked but clean shoe. "God, you're strong, all sinew and muscle."

"Well earlier you took a close look at my most flexible muscle."

Jessie looked worried her shoes did not quite look to be a pair. "Well, I guess that's us done here. Walk me back to the house. Mr Judd said you were a mile away, sulking down on the bottom pasture. It seemed more like two miles to me."

"Well, being stupid and a city girl you took the two mile route. We'll take the short route back. We can stop and watch the ram shafting ewes if you are hankering for farm excitement."

"Are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes," she laughed softly, exercising her humor.

"That's what the ram does with his front feet so the ewe think he's playing blind man's buff and then he slyly sinks one into her when she's not expecting it."

Jessie's glorious peel of laughter caused birds to fall off their tree perches and dogs for up to two miles away to bark out they were under threat. Tom felt his erection return, irrefutably a sign he was in love with Jessie