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You are right this is your plant. And we are guests here. Obviously you do things different here. We don’t mean offense.”“Okay, guys,” Nancy said, wanting to break the tension. “Why don’t you sit there and we’ll see what we can scrabble up for breakfast?”“Great,” Tim said as he guided Gus over to a table. A few whispered words passed between the two and they stay there.“What do you want for breakfast?” Margaret asked, stripping her clothes off. “We have some synthetic sausage, peppers, onion, and I brought some biscuit mix.”“That sounds great,” Tim said, looking at the woman as she undressed. “Could I ask you a question?” Tim said toward David.“Sure.”“Aren’t goats supposed to be naked and collared all the time?” Tim asked David.“You mean my wife? She was exempted this month. Don’t look forty, does she?”“No. She looks great. So why the collar?”“The collar helps to keep things straight and orderly. We had USDA here yesterday and they were a little confused. And it reduces the. My heart started racing with thoughts I shouldn’t bethinking since I’m married.“So, are you ready for your shampoo?” she asked.“I’m all yours,” I replied, which caused her to give mea cute smile.I followed her into the backroom where she sat me down,laid the back of my head in the sink and started toshampoo my hair.We chatted while she washed my hair and she didn’t letme down by rubbing her thighs up against my shoulder.Then she did something she never did before, she leanedover to reach for a bottle of conditioner, and she lether breast rub across my forehead. “Oops, I got shampoo on me,” she playfully told me. Ilooked and saw her wipe the shampoo off her breast,wishing I could do that.She rinsed my hair, put a drape over me, escorted me toher chair and covered my clothes with the protectivecover.She cut my hair and we did the usual chatting with herrubbing her body against mine. She trimmed my eyebrows and rubbed her.
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As her orders were served up and mine were about to be taken, I could see that she was anxious about spilling the tray. I advised the barman, “Four pots of Furphy and a Coke, and,” glancing at the woman as I pointed my debit card towards the bar, “I’ll be back once I’ve given a hand.”The barman took my card as I took the tray of drinks and looked to the woman, awaiting direction. “Thanks for that,” she said, “I reckon I could have made a mess of it.” It was then I noticed her face before she turned to lead the way through the crowd.“You look familiar. Didn’t you go to Eltham High?” I asked her.“Yeah, briefly,” she replied.We reached her spot where a mixed group were gathered. I recognised some of them: they had lived nearby me but had gone to private schools, their faces known from the assembly of kids at the local station where the caravan of charter buses to the prestigious schools over the river. I placed the tray of drinks down before quipping, “So, what is this? The Association.

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