I was so engrossed in my thoughts that when a voice spoke directly behind me I jumped a mile. ‘Excuse me, miss.’ I yelped and spun on my heel. ‘...on’t do that!’ I said to the man before me, more sharply than necessary, my hand flying to my naked chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought you heard me.’ I had to give him credit, his eyes remained on my face and didn’t lower to my heaving breasts. ‘No, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,’ I responded. ‘And, I’m sorry for yelling. I’m Christina, friends. I want you to dress up. I want you to pretend you’re going to a cocktail party.” She said, “Sounds like fun. I won’t let you down.” “Ok great. See you tomorrow then.” We hung up and I was instantly excited. I slept well that night, got my wife around, and drove her to the airport. I dropped her off, said our goodbyes and went to work. The day was a blur. I didn’t focus on a single thing, couldn’t focus on anything. I just wanted it to be the end of the day. About 10 minutes before closing. She tried on a skimpy string bikini and – this still makes me laugh - all four knots got stuck! We got Spike the cute shop assistant (yes, that was his real name) to undo Belinda's bikini and while they were alone in the changing room, I triggered the plugs to buzz her to a secret orgasm while Spike was sitting with his face barely a foot from her pussy trying to undo the last knot."Yes, Spike again," I said. "You were so hot in that tiny bikini with Spike trying to undress you without staring. There are waves of wool and whole fleeces at his feet that Emily grabs now by the armful and piles into a large container to be baled later. “I usually have a couple of shearers helping me but being Sunday the blokes are off,” says Jim. “Guess you might have to be my Jillaroo today.” “Here. I’ll teach you,” says Jim, letting a shorn sheep free and hauling another struggling one, heavy with wool. “Straddle your legs over this one. You need to wear work jeans really but never mind, the lanolin.