“Raking hay and harrowing are mostly brainless. It relaxes me and give me time to think about things.” He let his mind wander as he thump-thumped ...cross the field. He wondered if Isolde was more than just a pretty face – did she read real books, or just romance trash? He had seen the corner of a paperback book poking out of the top of her backpack. “Backpack! Humph! What kind of woman has a fight and walks out in the middle of the night armed with a backpack, sleeping bag and tent? She must be. ’ Hearing what she said and her choice of words made him slump and sigh. He felt he’d lost an ally in her. She really made him believe she wanted to become a vampire… ‘Of course I do silly,’ she said poking him in the ribs adding, ‘You foreigners don’t know what to think about American girls do you,’ she laughed. ‘I guess not Kitty.’ They were leaning against a building when she put one foot up against the wall behind her. Her pleated skirt rose to above mid-thigh. When she saw him looking at. The crotch was wet with her anticipation. He looked at her face. He gave a slight tug and she lifted her butt off the couch as his fingers scraped down her legs, her pants in tow. As he slid them over her feet, he gave them a squeeze."Still cold, aren't they?" he laughed. "Let's see if I can't warm them up." He put her feet at his sides. "Bend at the knees and let your legs go limp," he said, as he put one hand on each knee and gently spread her legs. He saw her red, swollen pussy lips,. There it was, after years of waiting, a tiny closed nub was the very thing he had been looking for and he was so proud that his efforts had been rewarded. As it grew larger so did his excitement as he continued with the things he always did to insure the health of the plant. After a couple weeks the bud seemed to stop growing and although it didn’t alarm him, he was wondering what was going on. He kept reminding himself what he was told at the shop years before that it may never get to this.