-Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Shariden on 22-05-2013, 02:53:43</h2>
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				Title: <strong>-Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shariden</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 02:53:43</strong>
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				It was a hot, dry summer. The dreams of spring withered and died, leaving behind parched people. It wasn't alcohol that Matthew Randall needed, but there was little else, and so he pulled his pickup over by the decrepit little bar (a <em>dive</em>, they would call it). It stood alone in this desolate stretch of highway, fields of dried out grass and weeds on either side. A busted truck tire lay against a neon sign that had seen better days. <em>Beer, Food, Cigarettes</em> it proclaimed in blue and red letters. It was too dark to make out the bar's name, but Beer Food Cigs didn't really need one as far as Matt was concerned.<br><br>Folks called Matt and his family 'salt of the earth'. He was a big, strong man in his thirties or thereabouts, though a little leaner than was his wont these days. Then again, these were lean times for the salt of the earth. His cheeks were a little hollow, though the stubble did a good job at disguising it. There was no hiding the small shadows around his steady, brown eyes, however. One too many late nights like this could that to you. Like his stubble, his tousled black hair had a few streaks of gray, just a touch before his time. Lean times, troubling times... but if some gray hair was the worst of it, he'd gladly give his whole head.<br><br>There wasn't much activity at the hour, but fortunately Matt didn't have any plans to socialize. He pulled up a stool at leaned on the bar. In the meanwhile, the scent of beer, food, and cigarettes lingered lazily in the air, albeit used up or regurgitated. <em>Used up</em>. That was what he felt like, Matt reflected. His farm had used him all up. It was supposed to be more of a give and take relationship, but it was all taking, all the time. <br><br>Something had to give, here. <br><br>Matt unbuttoned his damp shirt a little more and steepled his fingers, staring intensely at the dusty bottles in the back. Hopefully it could start by someone giving him a nice, cold drink, for starters.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;
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				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rayne</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 06:38:48</strong>
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				Amber Martin was a waitress. She hadn’t grown up dreaming to be a waitress, of course. At one time she had dreamed of being an actress, or a dancer. But minos women didn’t grow up to dance. At least… not in respectable establishments. Minos of course was the short hand name for minotaurs. Though legend had made the male of the species famous, her race existed in both genders of course. The males had large bull horns and large bodies while the women had large breasts and full hips. They had smaller horns and, like the males, had a tail and bovine skin coloration. The women also produced milk consistently after puberty. This… made them appealing to certain people in society.&nbsp; There was even a market for Minos milk, with certain circles paying top dollar for the exotic commodity, like truffles. <br><br>And yet despite their bodies producing a valuable commodity many of her kind were impoverished. Taken advantage of, undereducated, exploited. Amber had struggled to beat the odds. She had earned a 3.7 GPA in High School… but it was the 4.0 students that got the full ride scholarships, and she just never had the funds to pursue college. And so… at 22, she was working a backwater joint called <em>Larry’s</em>. The sign had fallen down months ago, though, and sat in the office waiting for repair. Not like the name mattered much anyways. The place was a dump. Farmers stumbled in after work, looking to drown their sorrows. During the evening lost tourists were also bound to wander in, looking for directions. It was a place nobody meant to end up at. Not even the staff.<br><br>On that particular day of Matthew’s visit Amber was in the back, checking inventory. Clipboard in hand she stood in the panty, counting hamburger buns and writing down the numbers. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her uniform was comprised of a short denim skirt and a dark red flannel shirt. Her name tag was fixed over her left breast, though it was often the last thing people noticed when looking at her chest area. Her boss required her to wear a shirt a size too small, so her large breasts would be practically bursting out of the top, especially as her shift wore on and her breasts grew heavy with milk. He also yelled at her if she ever buttoned the top three buttons, so she was constantly on the verge of flashing people. He argued that sex appeal was a big selling point, and he certainly profited on the large tips some people left, but she knew he also just liked staring at her. Complaining to the cops never worked all that well, however- it just tended to get her fired. <strong>”Girl there’s somebody out front- go deal with it will ya!”</strong> Her boss, Larry, yelled at her. Amber sighed, her ears twitching irritably, and set down the clipboard, walking out and picking up a notepad instead. She pushed through the door and walked out into the bar area, putting on a smile as she saw the customer at the counter. He wasn’t a regular so far as she knew. <strong>”Hey there love, anything I can get for ya?”</strong> She asked, her blue eyes filled with warmth. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shariden</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 16:14:19</strong>
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				Matthew didn't so much as blink when the presumed proprietor began hollering. But the voice that approached next got his full attention. It was a voice that didn't belong in a dingy little bar (<em>dive</em>) here in the middle of nowhere. Had no business being in one. This was a place for parched throats croaking out short, terse requests, followed by cold and lonely silence. Noncommittal grunts. Boorish shouting. Muttered swearing. Matt turned and for a moment, wondered why he wanted anything cold when he could drink in those warm, blue eyes.<br><br>She had a chest on her too, he couldn't quite help but notice.<br><br>A Minos was waiting on him. A Minos in a shirt a size too small, the fabric valiantly trying to contain a most generous bosom despite its efforts being sorely hindered by several undone buttons. Matthew admired the epic struggle for another moment or two before recalling to mind his manners. She was a pretty little thing- well, perhaps not <em>little</em>. Just enough years on her to end up in a place like this, not enough to show in her eyes and voice. The ever elusive lone flower sprouted in the middle of a junkyard, its petals not wholly wilted, nor its roots entirely poisoned by the toxic soil. But those things took time, after all, and if there was one thing there was plenty of here, it was time.<br><br>A shame, but she was a Minos. A <em>cowgirl</em> they used to call the women, before it was considered a slur. The odds were against her from the day she was born and sometimes all the effort in the world couldn't turn things around. That was when you ended up here, withering on the vine as you were <em>used up</em> by others. <br><br>But if it were him... and Matt wondered why <em>not</em> him... he'd do a lot better than squeeze this Minos into a too small shirt and steal the tips she brought in. A lot better, and a lot more. Behind their shirts and blouses, Minos women carried a veritable treasure chest brimming with white gold, as some called it. <br><br><strong>"A beer,"</strong> he offered her a smile. He paused for a beat. <strong>"Make it two and sit down with me, Miss Martin."</strong> Matthew had certainly not missed her chest, but neither had he failed to notice the name tag. <strong>"Get whatever you like. My treat. And if your boss bothers you, I'll talk to him myself. Just a few minutes of your time is all I ask."</strong><br><br>He glanced down at his hands, then back up to her with a wry expression. <strong>"I'm hoping you haven't been around long enough to hear that line a hundred times before."</strong><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rayne</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 18:19:13</strong>
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				At his request she nodded, her smile growing a touch more genuine in response to his own. A smile was&nbsp; a rare thing in this bar. More often than not the men barely lifted their gaze past her chest, grunting out orders. <strong>”One beer coming right up!”</strong> She started to turn away- when he offered for her to join him. Looking back to him she hesitated, her eyes flickering with… fear perhaps? Her gaze flicked to the back door, where her boss was, making it clear who she was afraid of. <strong>”I’m sorry I really shouldn’t…”</strong> She started to answer, when he reassured her he’d explain it to him. She continued to hesitate, though, her black cow like ears flicking as she thought. A few days ago, on a slow day like this, she’d sat down with a&nbsp; friend for maybe fifteen minutes. Her boss had noticed and hauled her right out of the chair and into the back, putting her on dish washing duty for the rest of the night. The bruise from how tightly he’d gripped her arm was just fading, barely noticeable on her right upper arm in the dim lighting of the bar. Her boss said breaks were for home. The only break she was allowed was for her daily milking. However her boss called it restocking, so he could keep the milk. He paid her for it, but not much. <br><br>She shook her head, refocusing on the man in front of her and put a smile back on her lips. <strong>”Well… maybe not a <em>hundred</em> times.”</strong> She remarks. <strong>”Alright, fine. Let me just go grab those drinks.”</strong> She tells him before turning away. She filled his glass with beer, then filled hers with ice water and brought them back over. <strong>”Here you go.”</strong> She set his drink down in front of him, then came around the bar, taking the seat next to him. She took a sip of the refreshingly cold water, then set it down on the bar. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shariden</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 20:08:33</strong>
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				It was interesting, watching a Minos' facial expression and body language. At once human and bovine, it was a curious mixture. Matthew was glad when Amber accepted his offer with only some hesitation. She was... if not quite the trusting type, at least the genial sort. He watched her go and return with the drinks. <br><br>"Thank you," he said perfunctorily as the glass slowly filled up with cheap brew. Condensation formed little droplets along the side, gently sliding down to soak into the counter. At least it was cold. Noticing her water, he raised a brow quizzically, then nodded. "No drinking on the job, huh? That bossman of yours is a harsh one."<br><br>Matt took a sip and set his glass down as well. He found he wasn't quite so thirsty anymore, or at least, not for beer. It had been a long dry spell for Matthew Randall, but it felt like rain was in the air. Shifting slightly, he turned to face Amber and held out his hand. Chapped, calloused, with a farmer's grip, he offered the Minos a friendly shake. "Name's Matthew Randall, but folks call me Matt. I work further up the road, on a little old farm I inherited from my old man, rest his soul."<br><br>He looked down at his rough hands for a moment, then smiled and sidled a little closer to the waitress. "Truth be told, it's been hard going this summer, but I can't imagine it's much easier for you, Miss Martin. Bad times for farmers don't always mean good times for places like this, am I right?"<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rayne</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 22:18:35</strong>
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				As he questioned her drink choice she gave a noncommittal shrug, looking down at her glass as she held it in her hands. <strong>”Well people wouldn’t call it work if it was fun.”</strong> She points out. She didn’t give off a jaded exterior, but it was clear she wasn’t as naïve as she might first seem. She’d never encountered a workplace where her boss wasn’t like this so she thought it was pretty much normal behavior. She knew high end jobs, those that required college education, had to be nicer… but those were out of the realm of possibility for her.&nbsp; No, she knew what her future held, so she just didn’t question it too much- didn’t let it get her down. <br><br>As he held out his hand she reached out, shaking it. In his calloused hand hers looked positively tiny, and seemed fragile. While his palm was calloused her skin was soft. Her skin was also unnaturally pale- truly white, well in places. Her palms were a little pinker, and black spots covered her skin just like for the bovine variety. The only visible spots were the ones on each of her elbows, one on her left collarbone, a spot on the inside of her left thigh and one on the back of her right calf. She also had a black spot on her right rib cage, a spot at the base of her tail, and one on her right shoulder blade. The spots were all about the size of a hand, shaped somewhat circular. <strong>”Nice to meet you Matt. You can call me Amber.”</strong> She tells him, letting go of his hand and picking up her glass once more. As she took another drink of her water she noticed him scoot closer. Gently arching her eyebrows she gazed at him, assessing him. He wasn’t being rude like most men who came in here. Many of them would grope her ass or chest as if her body was theirs to touch. However it was clear, beneath the manners, that he was interested in her. <br><br>Which wasn’t inherently bad. He was older than her, clearly. She’d guess by about ten years, though the gray hairs made her think even older… but he was still attractive, she’d admit. Tall, broad, strong. She’d always found herself attracted to the kind protective sort. It had been… well a good year since she’d been in a relationship. The farmers here were, for the most part, lecherous and crude, and she hadn’t felt an interest for any of them. At least until now.<br><br>Focusing back on the conversation she once again shrugged at his question. <strong>”You’d be surprised. People drink for sorrow just as often as they do for joy… if not more so. The tips go down, but the business goes up. It’s just not very cheerful.”</strong> She explains. <strong>”So what sort of farm do you have? Crops, livestock or both?”</strong> She asked curiously. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shariden</strong> on <strong>23-05-2013, 19:28:47</strong>
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				Matthew studied the Minos as she spoke. He'd never really been one to interact with her people. Once in a while he would hire one or two of the men for grunt work, at least back when he could still afford to do so; but outside of sharing the occasional meal and smalltalk, he never really paid much mind to them. When he'd had her hand in his, Matt found himself surprised at the delicacy he felt. Aside from her chest, Amber really wasn't that big, but his brain seemed to insist on viewing the person in front of him as a cow, who were fairly big, strong animals. It didn't help that she had the classic black and white Holstein cattle markings.<br><br>He nodded as she spoke of work. Matt didn't go drinking often, so he figured she would know better about the business. When Amber asked about the farm, he thought about the question for a moment before answering. <strong>"Neither."</strong><br><br>The farmer looked down at his beer and explained. <strong>"It was both at the start, but when the economy went bad I had to sell bits and pieces here and there."</strong> He turned his attention back to Amber, his expression one of calm acceptance, a man who was resigned to his situation but not quite out of hope either. <strong>"Giving up the cattle was the hardest. Everything after that... didn't even bat an eye."<br></strong><br>Matt pushed the glass away and folded his hands.<strong> "Corn and wheat's all I got left, but this summer's yield doesn't look too good." </strong>The smile returned to his face. <strong>"But it's not all doom and gloom, Amber. I figured this year I'd buck the Randall tradition and grow some alternatives. There's a market for turnips, if I can get enough into the ground.... and there's the catch though."</strong> He rapped his knuckles against the counter absently as he chose his next words carefully. Perhaps there was a hook in here somewhere.<br><strong><br>"I can only do so much in a day. Used to be I could hire a few hands, but the money's dried up along with the land. Folk tell me I should just sell the whole thing and be done with it... but I don't want to give up any more. At the end of the day, I guess I just like working on my land, being my own boss... it ain't half bad, the farm life."</strong><br><br>He glanced sidelong at Amber. <strong>"Call it a stab in the dark, but I figure you come from a farming family, or maybe something like that?"</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rayne</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 00:05:19</strong>
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				Amber listened to his life story. It was not unfamiliar. Many of the farmers who came in here had suffered under this most recent recession. Selling off land, selling off livestock, moving away. It seemed to happen every week. But it wasn’t just their story… it was her family’s life story too. Her father and mother had owned a farm more out west when the economy had turned bad about ten years ago. Bad economy and a drought teamed up together to tank their business. So she knew what he was going through. Better than somebody might suspect. <br><br>Listening to him share his ideas for fighting back, and his determiniation to stay with it she smiled softly… maybe even a little sadly. She wished her father had sounded like this man. He’d just given up, becoming a drunk like many of the men in this bar. <br><br><strong>”You guessed correctly. I lived on a farm till I was 13. We had chickens, cows, crops. All that jazz. In the family three generations. The same thing happened to us though… but my dad gave up. We sold the place and moved to the city.”</strong> She explains, shrugging. She didn’t mention that only her mother and her made the move. Her father disappeared, went to another town to look for work and just didn’t come back. She didn’t know if he was dead, or if he’d just found a new life and chosen to stay there. <br><br>She tried not to think about it too much. Lifting her glass she drank some more water, her gaze glancing to the clock. She should probably get back to work pretty soon… <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Come Home- [Shariden/Rayne]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shariden</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 20:40:27</strong>
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				Matthew Randall nodded in sympathy that was at least partially sincere. He too knew the stories, had known family and acquaintances that lost it all. Times hadn't robbed him entirely of empathy. <strong>"Had a feeling... "</strong> he said quietly. <strong>"They say the earth marks the folks that work her. You've still got a bit of it around you, you know?"</strong><br><br>Now was no longer the time for empathy, however. He had to brush it aside, store it away, save it for later. Matthew hadn't come to this little dive in the middle of nowhere with any sort of plan, but now the bits and pieces were practically assembling themselves. Amber Martin would be the lynchpin to hold it all together, if he could just reach out and <em>take her</em>.<br><br>He followed the Minos' gaze towards the clock, then turned back to her. <strong>"How about it?"</strong> he asked abruptly. <strong>"I think the farm life would agree with you. Trade in your sad drunks and lousy boss for a tan and some dirt under your nails."</strong> Did Minos even tan? Well, he would just have to roll with it.<br><br>Matt held up his hands and laughed a little to himself. <strong>"Not this very night, mind. I'm not asking you to give up everything and join me on the farm or anything like that. Just... if you're curious, I'm getting the tilling finished tomorrow on the first field, and could use a hand with the seeding too. It'd be nice to have someone I can shoot the breeze with, and you can get a feel for the work again. See if it's something you still want to be a part of."</strong> He shrugged. <strong>"Of course, I'll pay you for your time, though I will warn you that it won't be much, even by farmhand standards. Steady work, not so much steady pay. But if you find it works for you, I can promise you a cut of the profits down the line."</strong><br><br>Turning around in the stool, Matthew stood up and stretched his back a bit before facing Amber. <strong>"I know it's a little out of left field, but things are bound to turn around sometime... and a farmer's girl like you deserved better than a place like this. Call it a lucky coincidence for both of us. So, all I ask is you sleep on it. Wake up early if you can, and give me a ring when you're decided. I don't mind coming down to pick you up if you don't have a car."</strong><br><br>He offered a small smile. <strong>"Places like this, a girl gets a lot of propositions, so to speak. I hope mine is a little more unique than your usual. Would you like my number?"</strong><br>&nbsp; 
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