The Hay Loft

Your hair smells so fresh and clean, the scent of your skin is so singularly yours and so excitingly fresh. I am as excited by you as I have ever been about any woman. I need you. I am drunk with you. I must have you.

As the song plays softly now, you look up to me and say, “Hey there cowboy, I have been waiting for you to ask me to dance all evening. What took you so long?” I am on the spot but tell the truth as best I can. I hold your arms as you place your hands on my chest to my delight and say, “Well, sweet thang, I’m just a hired hand on this old farm and ranch here, and I never thought you’d ever accept.” You reply in astonished surprise, “and I suppose I look like a city slicker in these boots, and this denim skirt? C’mon handsome, let me show you a thing or two about me!” Then you tell me not to move, run to the band and say something to the ‘harp’ player who nods and smiles with a twitch of his mouth and you return to me beaming. The music soon stops and the lead singer says, “I have a special request here from a sweet lil’ Miss for Bill Monroe’s “Kentucky Waltz.” You are beaming and ask me, “Do you know how to waltz big guy?” “Why, no, I don’t s’ppose I do” I admit. “Then I’m going to teach ya how to do it then!”

To be honest about this here moment, if I wasn’t in love with you before that lesson, I sure was by its end! Or at least something very close to it! The band played in sweet blue-grass tones and I followed your lead as you whispered “…and a one, two, three, one two three….,” moving your feet in a kind of rectangle:

We were waltzing that night in Kentucky
Beneath the beautiful harvest moon
And I was the boy that was lucky
But it all ended too soon

As I sit alone in the moonlight
I see your smiling face
And I long once more for your embrace
In the beautiful Kentucky waltz



By the time it is over, I lean in and kiss your lips sweetly. You respond in kind encouraging me. Your lovely breast is already heaving and I know you find me to your liking.

As much as my mind says “this can’t be,” my intuition says “it is.” We are both soaking each other up as we seem so recklessly ready to throw ourselves into each other.
You ask me my name and I say “Will” and you say “I’m Suzannah Jo but my friends call me ‘Suzy.’” I look into your smiling face and say, “Well I’ll be! I would have thought they’d have called you ‘sunshine’ or ‘princess!’” You look up at me with the sincerest, most melting eyes and say, “Aw Will! That’s so sweet!” Then you hold back a bit and ask rhetorically, “You sure you’re a hired hand...and not just a lady’s man with that sweet talk?”

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