The cowboy knocked on the door at dinnertime.
He was dressed appropriately for the occasion. A collared shirt, pressed. A pair of blue jeans, also pressed. And, of course, real leather cowboy boots. He'd worn his nicest cowboy hat too. The one his father had given him.
He was on business.
The girl who answered the door was decidedly not dressed appropriately. She wore a faded purple towel around her chest that went to just the middle of her well-tanned thighs. No shoes. Her damp hair hung in dark, stringy curtains around her face. She was quite beautiful and flaunting a hauntingly amazing body.
Her breasts, which were squeezed by the towel, were large and natural. No doubt grown by natural foods and no small amount of raw milk. The curves of her supple body were hugged by the towel, showing wide hips and long, slender legs. They were strong, obviously, she rode horses. Most people did in these parts. She had that kind of strength and posture that the sport demanded.
And her eyes...they were so deeply blue it was almost unnerving.
"Hello, Jack Thompson," she said coyly. If she was surprised to see him, she didn't show it. "My eyes are up here."
He cleared his throat, a nervous smile straining his face. "It's been a while, Emily."
She cut him off before he could ask where her father was.
"A lot has changed since you last saw me." She leaned against the doorframe, staring at him. "Wouldn't you agree?"
She had always been like this. Teasing and fun. Forward and tormenting.
"I'd like to speak to your father, please."
She pursed her lips.
"Everyone always wants to speak with my father," she said, turning on her heels. "Fine. Come in."
Her hips swung back and forth as she walked into the living, leaving him to close the door. She seemed to accentuate the motion of her hips.
"Take a seat, but I warn you, he'll be gone for a couple of hours," she told him warningly. "He went out to the far side of the ranch. Something about a fence that needed fixing."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "I'll wait, if you don't mind."
She shrugged. "Don't matter much to me. It's your time."
Emily disappeared into the kitchen. "Do you remember that time we went riding as kids?" She called.
"Which time?"
She poked her head back to look at him, the sounds of water accompanying it. "You know which time."
He did, but he didn't want to be reminded. It had been his last year of high school and her freshman year.
He washed the thought from his mind. He was here for business. Nothing else.
"I know you remember."
"How...is college?" Jack asked, clearing his throat.
Emily came back into the room carrying two glasses. One with water and one with milk. She handed the milk to him. He took it and chuckled.
"I'm not a kid anymore."
"You don't want it?" she asked, sitting on the arm of the couch, mere inches away from him.
"I didn't say that."
She smiled, leaning forward. "Maybe I do know you better than you thought."
"Perhaps, you should get dressed," he said, pointedly not looking at her. "Then we can speak while I wait for your father."
Emily huffed. "Ah, my father," she muttered, trudging away and disappearing up the stairs, though not before casting a hungrily indifferent look over her shoulder at him.
As he listened to her light steps on the floorboards overhead, he did find himself reflecting on the time they'd shared. Riding horses through the fields. Swimming in the creeks. Chasing sheep around the pastures and also running from said sheep.
They'd had chemistry back then, it was sure. And they'd shared kisses, as kids do. But it had never become anything else. Not for them. Jack didn't know why either, it was just how it had ended up.
She had come to quite a few of his rides. She'd even stitched him up on occasion. They had been memories he'd thought back to often.
"Is this better?" Emily asked, surprising him. He hadn't even heard her come back downstairs.
Jack took in her new outfit, careful not to stare. She'd traded her towel for a pair of lime green booty shorts and a linen button down that was about two sizes too small for her.
She'd also left four of the buttons undone, giving him a tender view of her generous cleavage.
Her hair was in a bun too.
Emily's hands rose to her hips, and she said, "Well?"
"I suppose," he sighed.
"You don't have to sound so annoyed," she grumbled, falling onto the couch. She crossed her legs and drew a small pillow onto her lap. It pressed her breasts up even more.
Jack tried not to look, but instead looked around the house, taking in the adornments for the first time. The wall across from him was covered in photos of Emily riding. In the middle was a big gold medal.
"You still ride?" he asked.
She was staring at him. Her eyes glinted. "From time to time. I teach part time."
He nodded. "That seems...good."
"So, how is the farming business, Jack? Why did you retire from bull riding?"
"Well, I didn't want to die," he said simply.
"Really? Not so fearless anymore?" she asked, teasing.
"Just figured there were some things I'd like to do other than riding," he said, shrugging.
"Like?" she said, leading him on.
"Like running cattle."
She nodded. "Hmm. Did you miss me?"
Jack blinked at the forwardness of the question. It was just like her to ask such a question. He didn't need to think about the answer.
"Yes."
She tried very hard not to smile. "Some other bimbo stitch you up?"
He didn't hide his grin. "Someone had to."
Emily scrunched her nose. "Those sluts."
Jack just nodded, still smiling.
"Can I see them?" she asked quietly.
Her big eyes were boring to him. "What about your father?"
"We've more than enough time. He won't be back for a while."
As she rose from the couch, one of her breasts was on full display and she did not bother to fix it as it fixed itself as she walked over. Without a word, she dropped into his lap and began to unbutton his shirt.
