After a successful farmer passed away, he left his entire farm to his wife. She was smart, confident, and determined to keep the farm running just as he had.

There was only one small problem—she knew absolutely nothing about farming.

Knowing she couldn’t manage it alone, she put up a notice looking for a farmhand.

Two men applied. One had a reputation for spending most evenings at the local bar. The other was openly gay. After weighing her options, she decided the second applicant seemed like the safer bet.

As it turned out, she made the right choice.

The new farmhand was dedicated, knowledgeable, and worked tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. Within months, the farm was running smoother than ever.

One evening, the owner said to him, “You’ve been working incredibly hard. Why don’t you take the night off and go into town? Have some fun.”

He thanked her and headed out for a well-deserved night.

Midnight came and went. Then one o’clock. Then two.

Finally, around half past two in the morning, the door opened.

He stepped inside and saw the farm owner sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, clearly waiting for him.

She looked at him calmly and said, “Come here for a moment.”

He walked over, curious.

In a quiet voice she said, “Unbutton my blouse.”

Confused but obedient, he did.

“Now take off my boots.”

He knelt down and slipped them off.

“Now my socks.”

He carefully pulled them off and placed them beside the boots.

“Now my skirt.”

His hands shook slightly as he unfastened it.

“Now my bra.”

He slowly removed it and let it drop to the floor.

She took a slow sip of wine, looked him straight in the eye, and said:

“If you ever wear my clothes into town again… you’re fired.”