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  • The Milking Herd Ch. 02

The Milking Herd Ch. 02

12

Betty felt a great loss when her father died, and regretted not asking why he left her mother. A few months later Lauren, her step mother died, leaving her feeling devastated and alone. Now Lauren was gone she needn't feel guilty over searching for her mother. Trawling through a pile of photos and documents revealed where she lived, which further stimulated a growing curiosity.

She found her mother had died in their home town five years earlier. It shook her to discover she had an older sister. Her mother's recurrent illness was the reason she, as the younger sister, had left with her father. At thirty-three her sister was seven years older.

A visit to her mother's grave wasn't enough, she needed to find her only living relative. A city directory showed Cheryl had a business, only it recently went bankrupt. The house was sold, effectively killing the trail. She was only a few weeks behind her, but there were no clues as to where she had gone. A private detective reported there was no telephone number, address, credit card numbers, or anything else.

She visited the company Cheryl once owned, not expecting much, which is what she got. The human resources department didn't know anything about the previous owner, and the pretentious woman wouldn't give out information anyway.

Sitting in a rental car in the parking lot, she went through the few old photos, wondering what her sister looked like now. They both had hazel eyes and long dark hair. Betty tried hard to fathom what kind of person her sister had become.

A knock on the side window startled her.

"Hello?" Betty queried.

"Hi. Is it really your sister you're looking for?" a middle aged woman asked.

"Sure, yea. Do you know something?" Betty asked, expecting the woman to be just curious.

"I was her secretary, until that lot took over," the woman grimaced.

"Do you want to get in?" Betty offered.

"It's my lunch break, I can spare just a moment," she said, flickering her features into a brief smile.

"I'm trying to find out where she's gone. I didn't even know I had a sister, until going through my late father's things," Betty quietly spoke, trying to get her on side. Just in case the woman had something, which she doubted.

They chatted about Cheryl; what she was like to work for, though mostly how awful the new organisation was. It was a slender life line connecting her to a long lost sister.

"I have this. It was in her desk. She cleared almost everything. I was supposed to throw what was left. Don't know why I kept it," the woman shrugged. She pulled the small leather bound note book from her bag and handed it to Betty.

"Just meetings and work stuff, not much of interest," she opined. The woman looked embarrassed, realising she revealed looking into it.

"Thanks! That's great, it's all I've got," Betty enthused.

***

Betty packed, checking the hotel room thoroughly. Having left a shoe in a motel, sometime ago, was annoying enough to look under the bed, and in the back of draws. She was ready for a couple of weeks at a retreat; a remote cottage in the country. She felt it was needed, and it would have been for Cheryl too, after losing her business.

Booking the cottage for a few weeks was the last entry in Cheryl's note book. That she had disappeared after that could be explained in many ways, for she may have left there for anywhere in the world. Beryl had intended to just ask the renter about her sister, but something stopped her. While talking to the guy on the phone, she found herself booking a couple of weeks.

There was something about him. He didn't seem creepy. It was the confidence, and professionalism, unexpected of a farmer just renting a cottage. His easy chat got in the way of what she wanted to say, until she found herself telling him of her recent loss. He told her the cottage would be a perfect get-away from it all. Before she realised, it became a reason for booking the cottage.

***

Betty settled into the cottage, admiring the old fashioned decor with modern facilities. She walked across the yard to the farm house, carefully avoiding the muddy puddles. Although she wore sensible hiking boots, there was no need to get them dirty.

"Hi! I found these in the back of a draw. Must have been left by the previous guest," she lied. The earrings had been a cheap pair she never liked.

"I guess so," Rob looked at the pair of earrings, wondering how he had missed them. He always thoroughly cleared away evidence of a previous guest, just in case someone turned up. The police might gather DNA evidence from these, so it was important to sanitise them. Most of a guests belongings were thrown into the incinerator, with a few valuables cleaned and sold on the internet.

She manoeuvred her way into the farmhouse, while he was distracted, to furtively look around.

"Take a look if you like," he encouraged. "It's like the cottage, all original, with your money modernising the place," he laughed. "That's the way I keep the farm going, by renting out to people wanting to get away from it all. Those boots look new, so I'd advise you to take it easy if you intend walking the hills," he commented.

"Yea, sure, thanks," Betty smiled.

"There's provisions in the kitchen, and I'll drop off milk and stuff each morning. Can you cook?" he asked.

"It's OK, I'm self sufficient. I've had to be over the last year, without parents," she smiled, though looking sad from the thought.

"Well, let me know what you need and I'll fetch what I can from the village store," he offered, while ushering her out.

A thorough search of the cottage revealed nothing to indicate her sister had even been there. She was still unsure of Rob, feeling unable to ask him. If nothing turned up the subject would have to be brought up. Perhaps she could tell him her sister had recommended the place, after a relaxing couple of weeks.

From a small window she watched him walk down to the milking shed. A quick dash across the yard established the door was unlocked. Either he was over confident, or there was nothing to hide. She hoped it was the former. In a room turned into an office, a desk held the usual mound of paperwork, and a computer.

She rifled through the papers, which were mostly bills for farm supplies, nothing to do with renting a cottage. One was curious. One was from a pharmaceutical company. She noted the details and quickly left.

Laying on the bed with an ipad, she searched for the products noted. As she suspected, they were all used on the farm. One was an experimental drug used to enhance the milking yield.

The last one was a beta blocker. It warned not to consume vinegar and baking soda, as these combined to counteracted its effects. What was this guy using a drug like this for?

The shower scene from an old film came to mind. With a shiver she checked the bathroom lock was substantial. The shower curtain and bath tub was very clean, as everything else was. For a guy, and a farmer at that, it seemed unexpected. Again she had the feeling he was up to something.

She dare not dwell on what had happened to her sister here, or she might just run away. If something had happened to her, she needed evidence. Better still, would be to find her.

"What am I thinking! She's probably on a beach somewhere, enjoying herself, while I'm here working myself up over nothing," she ranted.

Lying back on the bed she tried to relax, attempting to clear her mind of the idiotic thoughts. Rolling onto her side, drawing up her knees, she cuddled herself for comfort. Staring into space, focusing on nothing, something white attracted her attention.

Under the old fashioned dressing table hung a piece of paper. Tugging on the lower draw took all her effort, with one side becoming stuck then the other, until it was pulled free. It was a piece of paper, and it fell to the floor. It was a bill for a storage container, made out to Cheryl.

She had been here! At least that was confirmed. It didn't mean she had come to any harm. It must have been pushed up and out the back of the draw by Cheryl's clothes. It meant she could contact the rental agency to see if she had been in contact since leaving here. They might even have Cheryl's address!

Betty made a cheese sandwich and forced it down. The milk was good. Fresh from the farm dairy meant it was creamy, like the old days, rather than the skimmed milk she had become used to. She carefully laid out photos on the old kitchen table. Some with her mother and sister, others with her father and sister.

Having paid for two weeks she was going to make full use of the time. However hard she tried, she couldn't relax. None of the books on the ipad held her attention. A relentless nagging doubt sent her back to the farm house.

Unable to enter the computer she looked through draws. A book listed sales of cattle. The last entry stopped her pushing it back in the draw. The name Cheryl stood out among the entries.

Catching her breath to remain calm, she studied earlier entries. All were female names. Cows might of course be named Daisy and Buttercup, as in children's stories. A number, a name, a figure for the sale, and something else was written in the last column.

At the beginning of the book the columns had titles. The last column was the daily milk yield. The names must be a coincidence. Turning the page back to where Cheryl was mentioned, she noticed the date. Two weeks ago coincided with when her sister was due to leave.

"Don't be stupid! It's just one of those coincidences that turn up all the time," she told herself.

The next page wasn't blank, she had turned two before. Betty! Her name was next! No date, or anything else, just her name. That was too much of a coincidence. Slamming the book shut, she shoved it back into the draw and marched back to the cottage.

"What can I do? It's ridiculous," she murmured.

Who would believe wild accusations of kidnapping and, what? There must be a rational explanation. Perhaps he just used their names from a lack of an imagination. Perhaps naming the cattle for sale gave them an added value, as though they were better looked after.

Just in case something was going on, she decided to confront him. Just asking if her sister had stayed there would be enough. It would show in his face if something horrible was going on. While searching for Cheryl, a private detective told her thousands of people disappear each year.

Most just wanted to get away from it all. They fled from family, work, business problems, and a myriad of other pressures. They either turned up, or went on to lead a new life. He went on to warn her that even if he found her, she might not want to be contacted.

Maybe he had found her and this was all part of an over active imagination. It occurred to her that if Cheryl was alright, it wouldn't matter what she did here. If Cheryl was in trouble, then she should find out what happened. Finding her sister had become a puzzle, and she loved solving puzzles.

After three days of searching the farm house while he was out, and in between times the internet, nothing more surfaced. A puzzle without clues was hopeless. A confrontation was due.

Betty was torn between leaving to continue the search, and simply relaxing. Feeling tired and worn out she decided to stay. She took a large bite out of a hunk of homemade bread, spread with a generous portion of jam. At first the strawberry jam had a slightly bitter after taste. Becoming used to it, she regularly finished off a meal with the sweet treat.

"How you doing? Got everything you need?" Rob asked.

"OK. I haven't gone far, need to break in these boots gradually," she smiled.

"I meant to ask you something," she began, then faltered, feeling nervous. His clear blue eyes held her in a grip that was difficult to shake off. At that moment she didn't want him to be a villain, and her fears seemed stupid.

"Is it about this?" he asked, pointing to her breasts.

"What?" she murmured with a startled expression.

"It happens sometimes. The country air, and being near a milking herd, brings on a temporary condition. Don't worry about it. I'll fetch something to ease the condition," he stated.

Looking down at her breasts she saw what he meant. There were wet patches on the t-shirt. Before she could bring herself to say anything, he was walking back to the farmhouse.

Betty lifted the t-shirt to study her chest. They had always been a reasonable size, yet now she realised they had swollen. Leaving off a bra hadn't been unusual, and she had been too preoccupied to notice the slight change. What was worrying was that her breasts were leaking.

She cupped them with both hands, feeling the extra weight. They were plumper, and more rounded, yet still firm. The positive voice he used was reassuring, and not at all rude. A knock at the door startled her.

"Here, take this. A large spoon full this evening, and another tomorrow morning, before food," he told her. "I'll drop by to make sure you're OK," he said, with a comforting smile.

She closed the door and leaned back on it, feeling confused. He was charming, and so self-assured it overwhelmed her. She felt everything was alright when he spoke to her, and that she was being silly to doubt him.

She took the medicine after a great deal of hesitation. It tasted like cough remedy. She washed her mouth out with a glass of milk. The strain of overworking for the past year, coupled with her parents deaths, had brought her to this state of hysteria. She determined to relax.

For the first time in months she had a full night of undisturbed sleep. No dreams of her parents disturbed her. All those silly ideas about her sister disappearing were easily pushed aside. The guy wasn't creepy, he was rather dishy.

In the shower she examined her breasts. They were larger, and they still seeped. She took a spoon-full of the medication he gave her, followed by a large glass of cold milk. Feeling hungry she tucked into a good solid fried breakfast. Something she hadn't done since her mother died.

Sitting on a sofa with a book, she began to nod off. The unaccustomed meal left her feeling sleepy, after surviving on fast food. She struggled out of the warm comfortable sofa to answer the door.

"Hi! How are you this morning. I've completed my chores for this morning so thought I'd look in to see how you are," Rob said, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Oh! OK! I was taking a nap. I guess I'm only just winding down," she said. She yawned again.

"It takes a few days to shrug off the hectic city life. How are these? I should have a look to make sure they're OK," he advised.

The tone of voice caught her unawares, as though he were merely talking about her hands or feet. He expected an answer, yet she just stood there blinking.

"I'm not sure, err, should I see a doctor?" she murmured.

"Don't worry, I'm an expert, better than that young doctor in the village. Trust me, I've been caring for udders all my life. My father and grandfather owned the farm. It's in my genes," he smiled.

Rob wondered if he was pushing things along too fast. The milk additive was working as usual, which was evident from the breasts leaking. The sedative in the jam, and the medicine, left her sleepy. More importantly it left her compliant to suggestions.

Betty blinked and yawned again. It was difficult to think straight. His clear sky-blue eyes, and the tone of voice were so reassuring. She nodded her head, not really agreeing to the unusual suggestion. It was more to do with an approval of him.

Before she had time to object, he lifted the t-shirt. He was studying her breasts! She felt embarrassed. So much so it left her speechless. He wasn't leering at her. It looked as though this was a professional appraisal.

She was relieved when he pulled the t-shirt back in place. Her thoughts were lost in a whirl of fog. It felt as though she were wading through treacle. It was difficult to put her objections into words.

"You had better come down to the milking shed. I have just what you need," he smoothly stated.

Betty wanted to ask what he meant. Instead, she let him lead her with a firm grip on a shoulder. His big hand felt warm and comfortable. His presence felt reassuring. She wanted to look at him for one of those dazzling smiles, only she kept her head down, trotting alongside to keep up with those long strides. It felt as though her father were taking her on a special outing. All was well in the world, without the slightest of problems.

On hands and knees she knelt on a soft padding of a carpet. It was pleasing how well he was looking after her. Again he lifted the t-shirt. This time he gently squeezed a breast. She watched with consternation as a dribble of milk ran from a nipple.

It all seemed unreal. The fog clouding her mind left her unable to object. Should she be letting him do this to her? It was difficult to object, as he knew what he was doing. He would help her and look after her. His soothing words comforted her.

"I'll have to express you. A build up will cause pain, so it's better to do this before it becomes uncomfortable," Rob explained.

She gave him a dreamy smile in reply. This was pushing things along too soon, yet it seemed to be working out. Although it was better to spend time plumping up their breasts for a good yield, he needed to hurry things along.

He hadn't planned on taking on another milker, but this one came along unexpectedly, just in time. He always did a background check to make sure there was no-one to come looking for them. With her parents gone, and moving around as a consultant, meant there were no family or friends to miss her. The opportunity was too good to miss.

She had unburdened herself on the phone, as stressed-out women often did. Moving around from place to place meant she had lost contact with friends, so she was a natural. Large corporations wouldn't care about a temporary consultant one bit.

He fitted the rubber cup to a breast, having guessed the size from experience. The inner nozzle fitted onto a large nipple. He squeezed the cup, for the suction to hold it in place.

Betty looked down at what he was doing. She shook her head, trying to clear it. A warning bell was sounding. It should have been shrill, only it was muffled under the feelings of well being.

Another was fitted to her other breast. She felt the nipple being squeezed. It was an unusual feeling. The cup held her breast tight, engulfing it whole. It wasn't unpleasant. She watched him step away and wanted to ask what was happening.

She heard her voice murmuring quietly. "I don't want to, err, what is it you're doing to me? This doesn't seem right," she managed to say, with a lot of effort put into each hesitant word.

She heard the thrum of electrical equipment starting up. Even that low sound drowned out the softly uttered words. She felt one breast being squeezed, then the other. The nipples were gently pulled by inner cups

"This will be a great help. It will be pleasant and comforting. You will probably enjoy it," Rob told her, while stroking her hair.

She smiled back at him with a dreamy look upon her face. He lowered her head, for it to hang low. She was balanced on padded supports so she wouldn't collapse upon the cups. Held in place on hands and knees, she wouldn't be any trouble.

He watched for a moment. Satisfied she was comfortable, he left her to it.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him leave. Left alone there was nothing to do, except wonder what was happening. She knew of course, yet it was difficult to accept. Why had she given into this? She lifted her head to see white fluid flowing along a clear plastic tube.

It was her milk! She concentrated on the pulsing of her breasts. One then the other was being squeezed. Her nipples felt as though they were being drawn out longer and longer. It was a pleasant sensation. It felt as though a baby was sucking hungrily on her teats.

12
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