” “He just wants you for sex.” “You don’t understand.” “Oh,” mom laughed. “I think I do.” “No, mom, you don’t! He’s not usin... me for sex. I’m using him for sex!” Mom looked shocked. “Oh, mom, he gives me the best orgasms I’ve ever had. I mean, like, knock me nearly unconscious with pure pleasure orgasms. And he can eat me and fuck me for hours and hours without either of us getting tired!” Mom was momentarily speechless. Then she said, “He’s really that good?” “Mmmm, yes!” I purred, as I. She opened her legs even wider; her breathing became laboured as my butterfly light kisses covered the expanse of her thigh, almost reached her panty line I stopped. I heard from somewhere above my head the sigh and suddenly felt a hand trying to coax my head back into contact with her thigh. I resisted, backed away slightly before beginning again on her other thigh just above her knee. She visibly relaxed upon my resumption; already I could see the growing dark patch at the entrance to her. Who'd have thought that farming would become so political in the twenty-first century?The racist taunts resulted from the fact that so many of Gabrielle's immigrant farmhands came from the Indian subcontinent. Presumably it would have been less of a problem had they come from within the European Union, but Gabrielle doubted whether Georgians, Armenians or Moldavians would be treated with much more respect. Skin colour was obviously an issue, although a high proportion of local residents were. Danielle licked her lips and sat back. “It just occurred to me, as I passed the college the other day. We should do knee-high socks.” “I’m listening,” said Danielle. "Go on.” “Well, we have this beautiful range of hold ups. But they’re for the twenty something girl.” “And you think we should be looking at the younger market?” said Danielle, licking the end of her pencil. “Yes, well eighteen year olds at least.” “Of course.” “What colours?” asked Danielle. “Black and white.” “And pink,” added.