When a wealthy rancher passed away, he left everything to his loving wife. She decided to post an advertisement for a ranch hand in the newspaper since she was a very attractive woman who was determined to keep the property but understood very little about ranching. Two ranchers applied for the position. One was a drunk, the other queer. She gave it a lot of thought, and when no one else applied, she chose to hire the gay man because she believed it would be safer for him to be around the house than for the alcoholic.
He demonstrated that he was a dedicated worker who worked long hours every day and was well-versed in ranching. The ranch was doing very well, and the two of them worked for weeks. The hired man was then told one day by the widow of the rancher, “You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great.”
You ought to get out and dance in the city. The hired worker nodded in agreement and one Saturday night traveled into town. But, when one o’clock rolled around, he had not returned. There isn’t a hired hand at 2:00. When he eventually came back, at about 2:30, he discovered the rancher’s widow was waiting for him in the living room, seated by the fireplace and sipping a glass of wine.
Calmly, she called him to her. She said, “Unbutton my blouse and take it off.” He trembled and followed her instructions. “Now, remove my boots.”He obeyed her request, but rather slowly. “Now please remove my socks.”He carefully took them off and tucked them by her boots. “Now please remove my skirt.” He unbuttoned it gently, his eyes constantly observing hers in the flickering firelight.
“Now, remove my bra.” Once more, he obeyed and let it fall to the ground with quivering hands. “If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired,” she replied, glancing at him.
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