The Pig Farmer in the City by Linda Freedland

“Oh. Excuse me, but your foot is in my crotch.”
“Sorry.” He adjusts his position. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“You know, you’re rather pretty.”
“You didn’t think I was pretty last night?”
“I don’t remember much from last night. Well, maybe some.” He laughs.
“Yeah, well, I remember a bit more. I’m pretty sure last night was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had before in my entire life. Where did you come from?”
“Nebraska.”
“What?” No, I meant figuratively, like, where have you been all my life?”
“Probably in Nebraska.”
That’s where you live?”
“That’s where I used to live. Now I’m here.”
“What did you do in Nebraska?”
“I raised pigs.”
“You raised pigs.”
“Uh huh. Big ones. I got top dollar for my pigs.”
“I bet you did. So, you raised pigs and then you came to NYC? Just like that?”
“Uh, not exactly. The pig industry is very stable but I decided I wanted more out of life. In case you didn’t know, Nebraska is, well, rather boring.’
“Really? I’m so surprised.”
“I know. A lot of people are, but I wanted more so I sold the ranch to my cousin, who’s married with five kids and has no intention of ever leaving Nebraska, and I bought a train ticket and, well, here I am.”
“And just like that you found yourself at “After Midnight” buying drinks for a fabulously gorgeous young woman.
“Uh, no, I only bought you drinks.”
“I meant me, you moron.
“Ha, that’s funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be funny. So I have to ask you, how the hell did you learn to do those things you did to me last night.”
“I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“Okay. Wait, I bet you watched a lot of porno in Nebraska, right?”
“No, no porno. I just watched a lot of farm animals.”
“FARM ANIMALS!” You learned all those moves fucking farm animals?”
“Lord, no. I just watched them doing it. ‘Course, some pointers I picked up from watching my older cousins in the barn.”
“You mean doing it with their dates?”
“No, with the farm animals, mostly with pigs..”
“Oh, this is totally disgusting.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t think it was disgusting last night. As I recall, you seemed to really enjoying yourself.”
“Okay. I admit you did some pretty kinky things and I did enjoy them. But how do you even know the female “whatever” was enjoying herself?”
“Well, sometimes they squeal just like you did.”
“Get out! I squealed?”
“Uh huh. Pretty loud too. That’s when I know you were liking it.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.”
“That reminds me,, do you know what time it is?”
I leaned over to where my cell was charging on my nightstand. “It’s 8:00.”
“Oh boy, I gotta get going or I’ll be late.”
“Late for what? It’s Sunday. Don’t tell me you’re going to church?”
“Sorta.”
I watched him as he climbed out of my bed and began dressing.
“What do you mean by “sorta.”
“Well, it’s rather important I get to Highbridge First Methodist Church by 10.”
“Why?”
‘Cause I’m their pastor.”