Henry Childs watched an old rusty pickup drive down the dirt road that led to his house. The dust kicked up as the truck came toward him, blocking out everything behind it. Henry knew who it was the minute he saw the old beater turn off the road, heading to his house. It was March 1930, and it was planting season.

Now that Henry was eighteen, he was given more responsibility on the family farm. Keeping track of the supplies was now his responsibility. With lower cotton prices, Henry's father was forced to fire some field hands. Three years prior, Henry was also forced to drop out of school to work fulltime on the farm.

Henry knew that this time of year, the colored sharecroppers came to his father to borrow money, andto buy tools and seed for this year's cotton harvest. This year was no different than last year, as he stared at Willie Anderson getting out of his pickup. His daughter Rose stayed in the truck. Henry knew exactly what supplies he was getting and how much the cost was.

Mr. Anderson was a fairly small framed man, only a few inches above five feet, with a farmhand's strength in his large arms. His pleasant and positive attitude always got Henry's father to smile. Sometimes Henry wondered why his father always seemed to make time for him.

Although Mr. Anderson borrowed more money each year, his father continued to loan him more, without question. This year was going to be no different since Henry heard that the weevil attacked his crop again. He knew other farmers complained about the diminished harvest, and figured the Anderson farm was no different.

Henry saw Mr. Anderson at least once a week when he came over to talk with his father. During this time of year, it was all business, and he came today not for a social call. Henry figured that of all of the sharecroppers that were on his father's land, Mr. Anderson visited more than any of them.

The only difference was when it came to collecting supplies, he brought Rose with him. She would always help carry things to the truck and had a fine knowledge of what the farm needed in the way of supplies. Henry knew she didn't work that land, as she was one of the colored girls that did domestic work in the rich white homes.

Mr. Anderson gave a big smile as he spoke. "Is your pa here?"

Henry smiled back and pointed to the stables. When Mr. Anderson saw Henry's father moving around in the stables, he motioned over to Rose to get out of the truck. Rose slowly opened the door and walked over to her father. "Stay here until I am done," he said.

Henry looked over at Rose and then they watched together as her father walked to the barn to talk with Henry's father. They both knew they were going to talk money, and it was not going to be an upbeat conversation.

Rose was a year older than Henry, and he knew her since they were both very little. Their interactions were mostly greetings, but he always knew from a distance who she was. Wearing her hair short and slicked back, she showed off the slim features of her face and her dark brown eyes.

Henry always remembered her as an early developer in the chest department, even with her small frame that was not made for farm life. He also noticed that age had only added to his assessment of her bust size. The patchwork grey dress she wore was very noticeably pushed out by her ample size, making his eyes always wander to it. Her hourglass shape seemed to accent her features as well, and he found himself looking at her as a forbidden desire.

Even though Henry saw Rose everyday as she cut through the back field to walk her little brother Marshall to school, he never struck up any real conversation with her. Fear, mixed with social norms of interacting with a colored girl, made his stares the limit of his social skills.

He always described her in his thoughts as a doll that exemplified what a woman should look like. When he looked at other girls, he used Rose as the measure of what a girl should look like. He knew that this time of year he could get real close to her and study her features, making sure to put them to memory for later use when he was alone.

Henry motioned with his arm for Rose to follow him. "I can help you get your supplies ready."

Rose nonchalantly nodded her head in compliance, and followed Henry to the supply barn where he worked. Henry opened the lock and pulled the double doors open. Once they were open he walked in, and grabbed a clipboard that hung on the side.

Henry read off the supplies that were being taken to the Anderson farm. When the list was finished he walked over to grab a wheel barrel. When he came back with the supplies, Rose looked quite upset. Henry wondered what upset her. He had to ask. "What's wrong?"

Her face showed that she was clearly upset. "This is a quarters of what we normally get. I know you holding back, but we need the stuff if we are gonna pay you back what we owe."

Since being put in charge of the supplies, Henry got accustomed to the power of holding someone else's debt. The sharecroppers had to borrow from him to get their supplies for the year. Henry also collected half of their crops just for using the land that belonged to his father. He liked the feel of the power, too.

He knew she was upset about it, but also knew that his family was going to struggle if they continued lending to a farm that could not pay it back. Henry thought his father was wrong in lending such a large amount of supplies to a family that seemed to be unable to pay it back. He felt that he was doing a good job by giving the Andersons less.

With a slight grin on his face, Henry decided to get something he always wanted. "I can load some extra bags of seed and fertilizer without my pa knowing."

Rose's frown became a big smile, and she replied, excited, "You'd do that just for me?"

Henry knew he had power over her, and could get something from her. The idea now surged within him that his fantasies of her could come true. "I just want something from you is all."

With a puzzled look, Rose shot back "What you want from me?"

Henry fought back the evil grin, and stayed composed. "I want to see your tits."