"What's up there?" Mike said, nodding toward the barn.

"The hayloft," Debby said.

"I find haylofts fascinating," said Mike. "Mind if we go up there and take a look?"

Debby led the man up the steep ramp and through the open door of the hayloft. Flecks of dust danced in the sun's rays that poured in through the open door. A breeze kept the warm air in the loft a tolerable temperature. Hay bales were stacked to the rafters throughout most of the loft, and a mound of wheat-straw gleamed like gold in the sunshine just off to one side of the door.

"Looks like a fun place to have a party," Mike said. "You ever have parties up here, Debby?"

"No," Debby said. Her bare feet padded over the creaking floor boards and onto the carpet of straw at the base of the tall wheat-straw mound. Mike was pushing her, guiding her, and she was responding like a mechanical doll.

"I'm tired," Mike said. "Why don't we sit down for awhile and rest?"

He sat down on the straw and pulled Debby down beside him. He leaned forward and took off his shoes and socks. Then he lay back on the straw, stretching out his muscular frame, and he pulled Debby down with him, so that she lay beside him.

Debby was sure she was dreaming. She couldn't believe she was lying beside a nearly naked man on a bed of straw in her own hayloft. She lay stiffly, staring up at the rafters, afraid to even breathe.

"This is real nice," Mike said. "Real comfortable. And you sure are a pretty farmgirl, Debby. When I came over that hill and first saw you twirling on that swing, I almost fell off my bike. I thought I was seeing a mirage."

Debby tittered self-consciously. Her throat was too dry for speech, and she didn't know what to say anyway. Her heart thudded against her breastbone.

"Yes sir, I thought I was seeing a mirage." Mike rolled toward her. His sweating body rolled on top of her, settling down on her. "Oh, baby!"