Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2009 10:31:00 -0800
From: Simonnedanielle1204 (at) hotmail (dot) com
Subject: The Ranch Hand/TG/AUTHORITARIAN

SYNOPSIS: A hired hand finds himself facing a unique set of
circumstances when he returns home after letting off some pent-up
steam on his night off.  I offer, for your brief perusal, a story told
dozens of times over the years in many different forms.  This is my
adaptation of a short but delightfully amusing tale.  Enjoy!

Yours in Silk, Satin, and Lace,

Simonne Danielle



Simonnedanielle1204 at hotmail dot com



"The Ranch Hand"


A successful rancher died and left everything to his very young, very
sexy, and very devoted wife.  She was determined to keep the ranch
going, but knew very little about ranching.  Out of necessity and
desperation she placed an ad in the local newspaper for a ranch hand.


Two cowboys applied for the job.  One was gay and the other a drunk.
She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she
decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him
around the house than the drunk.


He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew
a lot about ranching.  For weeks the two of them worked hard, day and
night, and the ranch thrived better than it had before her husband
passed on.


After a particularly long and hard day's work, the rancher's widow
said,  "You've done a really good job and the ranch looks great.  You
should go into town and kick up your heels."  The hired hand readily
agreed and went into town on Saturday night.


He returned around 2:30 am and upon entering the room he found the
rancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting
for him.


She quietly called him over to her.  He stood unsteadily before her,
looking just a tad disheveled from his night of square dancing and
revelry.


Presenting a most commanding figure, she rose to face him.  "Unbutton
my blouse and take it off,"  she said with the slightest slur in her
voice.  Her tone left no room for discussion.  Trembling, he did as
she directed.  "Careful! Don't snag the lace ruffles!"  She sternly
cautioned.


"Now take off my boots."  He did as she asked, ever so slowly, gazing
longingly at the five-inch stiletto heels.  He came oh-so close to
actually kissing her boots before setting them gently next to her feet.



"Now take off my skirt, my petticoats, my slip, and my petti-
panties."  Once again, as if in a trance, he did her bidding,
constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.


"Now unclasp my garters and take off my nylon stockings."  He gently
removed each and draped them neatly over her boots.


"Now loosen the laces on my corset and take it off ... my bra too."
Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and laid her bra
and her heavily boned, lace-trimmed satin corset atop the frothy mound
he had managed to create out of all her other feminine delights.


She looked at him with fire in her eyes and said:


"If I ever catch you wearing my clothes into town again, you're fired!"



Comments are always welcomed and appreciated.

Simonnedanielle1204 at hotmail dot com