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You screw him in the back seat.

He quickly removed the bridle and saddle and was taking them back to the racks when Miss Worthing stopped him.

"I expect the stalls to be completely swept out by now," she said curtly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I've been busy polishing your shoes," Jim replied.

"That's no excuse. If you don't do better than this we'll have to consider ways of ..." Miss Worthing let the pause hang, "giving you some incentive."

"Yes, Miss Worthing, of course, Miss Worthing."

"Now come along, I need to get out of these boots; I've a lot to do this morning."

Jim quickly put the tack down and went back to Miss Worthing who was already sat waiting for him. Again she positioned her foot in such a way that, when he reached forward, he would effectively be rubbing himself against her but Jim had no alternative if he were to reach the buckles, but this time, as soon as he lent forward and felt the touch of her foot, he felt her push harder and wiggle her toes from side to side. This was almost too much to bear; even constrained by the tight denim of his jeans, his penis leapt into erection filling him with desire. This time it was obvious that the position of her boot was no accident and she knew exactly what she was doing. Emboldened by this and the growing need within him he pushed back, rubbing his groin against the sole of her boot.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Miss Worthing exclaimed.

"I... I... I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I don't know what I was doing; I wasn't thinking," Jim replied blushing furiously.

"So it would seem." Miss Worthing's voice dripped with derision. "You're not off to a very good start. First I come back from my ride to find you've been slacking and now, and I can still hardly believe it, now you're rutting against my boot like some sort of oversexed puppy. What on earth made you believe that would be acceptable behaviour?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Worthing, I thought..." Jim stopped as her realised where this was going. Could he really say that he thought Miss Worthing had led him on? Wouldn't that be adding insult to injury?

"I'm really sorry, Miss Worthing," he continued lamely. "It won't happen again."

"Too right it won't," Miss Worthing replied testily. "There are plenty of others who'd like this job; give me one good reason why I shouldn't chuck you out, right here, right now."

"Please, Miss Worthing, please let me have a second chance. Please, I really won't let you down again." Jim dreaded what his mum would say if he got sacked on his first morning. Would he be reduced to spending the summer gutting chickens?

There was a long pause.

"Against my better judgement I'm going to let you stay," she said eventually. However, if there's any, and I mean any, further behaviour of this sort then not only will I sack you, but I'll make sure the entire village knows just why I sacked you. Is that completely understood?"

"Yes, Miss Worthing, thank you, Miss Worthing," Jim said, relieved that the episode appeared to be over.

"Then you had better get back to removing my boots and let's see if you can do it without getting over excited this time."

His hands shaking slightly which caused him to fumble with the buckles, Jim returned to the boots. His stomach was churning with a maelstrom of emotions. He'd been sure that Miss Worthing was rubbing her foot against him deliberately but now it seemed as if she had him down as some sort of pervert. Worse still was the threat of letting this out around the village; gossip spread like wild fire and he knew how quickly something like this would circulate. The shame of being caught out by Miss Worthing was nothing to what he knew he would suffer if the whole village knew. That would certainly give Mrs. Higgins something to discuss at the post office counter.

Once her boots were removed Celia Worthing stood up and looked down at the young lad kneeling before her.

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