Andrea had been to the farm's accountants again in the local town. She always enjoyed the excuse to dress-up nicely and wander down the main street looking in the shop windows. On the way home in the car she remembered the time that she was coming back from the accountants and all of her paperwork had blown away as she walked through the farmyard. She also remembered the leather skirt and high heels that she was wearing, and how completely covered in mud she had got when she tried to retrieve the documents.

This time she was wearing a tweed suit and leather thigh boots, and all of the accounts were on a pen drive in her pocket, with no chance of them blowing away this time! But, she reasoned, there was still every chance that she could get just as wet and muddy as she did before!

So, with her mind made-up, she drove quickly through the lanes, parked the car by the house and headed down to one of the wettest fields on the farm. She splashed through puddles in her thigh boots and then waded down the stream. She sat on the little dam, with her waterproof coat keeping her dry, but then she turned to the falling water and let it fill her boots. She then plunged into the waist deep pool before heading across the field to the muddy bog where the paperwork had ended-up last time. The mud was sloppy and smelly and it quickly filled her boots right down to her toes. She sank deeper and deeper: thighs, crotch, hips, waist, breasts, arm pits It was cold and slimy and stinky and wonderful! Then it was time to jump in the river and get cleaned up.

Perhaps, she thought, getting completely soaked and covered in mud could be her reward for enduring seemingly endless meetings staring at numbers with the accountant. Suddenly the trips to the accountant sounded much more appealing; perhaps she should arrange to meet him quarterly rather than every six months.