Chapter 7 Tiff
Carter Hill was nothing if not a charismatic charmer.
His warm smile and approachable posture, despite the fact he was dressed like a company mascot, had me questioning whether or not I was right about Sunshine Sanctuary.
At a rational level, I knew that him being polite didn’t prove that his conduct would be above board.
Instinctively, it was very hard to imagine someone who came across as so caring and concerned being capable of mounting a shady operation and abusing animals for profit.
I tried to remind myself not to judge a book by the cover, but the truth was that most covers didn’t look as good as Mr. Hill.
Mr. Hill was tall, in his early forties, with a dignified, mature and handsome face.
He had a square jaw, broad shoulders and perfect posture.
His teeth were ivory white and straight as piano keys, and he didn’t waste a chance to flash them as he placed his hand on the small of my back and urged me through the door, out of that damn waiting room.
“Here are our administrative offices. We process requests, contact suppliers, organize deliveries, and make projections so our production can always be close to demand. We don’t want to overproduce our special-quality milk.
It would diminish its quality,” he explained as we walked through an area full of cubicles towards a distant door at the end of the hallway.
“That’s very impressive, Mr. Hill. I’m sorry to do this, but I really need to use the washroom.”
“Oh, of course. The tour isn’t long. You’ll have a chance at the end of it,” he said.
Before I could insist, he was talking about the packing plant and how important it was to keep it clean of any contaminants so that they could package their milk without additives. “Cleaner than some surgery rooms,” he assured me.
Again, I found it difficult not to trust his word.
He spoke with such conviction and warmth.
Perhaps another big factor was that he didn’t give me a single weird look, nor did he do a double take of my spots.
He showed no disgust or disdain for me and, most importantly, no pity either.
Some men, who weren’t cruel, would still see me as a monster and feel sorry for me.
That was only marginally better than being mistreated.
Sure, they weren’t insulting me, but they weren’t giving me the courtesy of allowing me to move through the world as a ‘woman.’ The ones that did were rare and far apart.
Carter Hill seemed to be one of the latter. Maybe I was biased.
He guided me through a corridor designed for visitors to observe the milk packing plant through a window.
Perhaps comparing it to a surgical room had been an exaggeration, but I didn’t remember ever seeing a room that clean, especially one that large.
All employees had fully zipped up jumpsuits with gloves and rubber boots, which included a hood and mask, as they oversaw the treadmill bringing cartons of milk under a large spigot.
They watched as milk pumped through at high pressure into each carton before the treadmill advanced, the next moving in, on a continuous rhythm.
“We are currently producing only two thousand units a day. That’s scaled up from our original one thousand goal due to demand. We are very careful in expanding operations, as our number one concern is the quality of life of our milk producers.”
I squeezed my legs, desperate to use the restroom as we moved through the corridor. I sighed, nodding. He was taking me to the animals, I guessed, and I really wanted to see them. That was the whole point of this, but I also really needed to go.
“Mr. Hill, I’m afraid I must insist on a restroom. It’s quite an urgent matter.”
“I understand. There’s none on this part of the tour, however. We are heading there, though. If you can hold for just a moment longer.”
I grunted quietly and nodded as we left the packing plant to walk outside, under the hot sun, towards an enclosure in an area much bigger than most farms would allow their animals.
Around ten cows were grazing. A few of them were under sprinklers, which were constantly squirting, probably to deal with the heat.
Their fur looked clean and free of wounds, their horns and hooves were shiny, and I saw feed trays with barley and wheat.
“Our animals are brushed daily and bathed once a week. They roam free for the majority of their day. The milking is performed by hand by trained experts, only after a stimulating udder massage.” He pointed to the concrete stable beyond.
I could see two men dressed in the same full white suit as the men in the packing plant through the open bay doors. They sat on milking stools and were pulling on the udders of a cow into a bucket. It was hard to imagine a more traditional way of getting milk.
“Well, I’m truly impressed that such artisanal methods are … sufficient,” I said, trying to bait him into admitting that it was just for show.
“That’s why we are limited to just a couple thousand a day. More would stress the animals and starve their calves. We don’t want that. You tasted our milk, I presume. Delicious, isn’t it? An unhappy cow doesn’t produce that.”
“It was pretty good,” I said. “I drank about three full glasses. Which brings me to a pressing matter … the restroom.”
“Right, right, of course. See that building there? That’s our animal wellness facility. There’s a bathroom just past the entrance. It’s where we are heading next.”
Thank god, I thought. I was almost pissing myself, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of such a gentle, handsome man.
He was treating me like just an ordinary woman, like I always wanted.
I didn’t want to give him a reason to yell, look at me differently, or look down on me.
The green door to the animal wellness facility was getting closer and closer. I started to pick up the pace slightly. To a point where, even without realizing it, I started to leave Mr. Hill behind. Only by a couple of steps, but still behind me, all the same.
I threw the door open, hoping to spot the restroom on my own before Mr. Hill got excited about his facility and launched into another explanation - I appreciated his passion, really, it was endearing - and delayed my release again.
When I opened the door, all I saw was an entirely empty building.
No furniture, no windows, no interior walls or floors.
From floor to ceiling, it was just concrete walls holding up a corrugated metal ceiling with a few fluorescent lights.
There didn’t seem to be any animals and, least of all, any wellness in the Animal Wellness Centre.
No worker. Not a single piece of furniture. Worst of all, no bathroom.
“Mr. Hill, what-” I began to say as I heard him stop just behind me.
Then the door closed with a slam and, before I could turn, I felt the burning, crackling sensation of an electric shock against my spine.
My muscles contracted and tensed, and I felt myself letting go.
Warm piss soaked my panties and ran down my legs as my whole body trembled, kicked and thrashed. I fell onto the floor.
In the last seconds before I lost consciousness, laying on the cold concrete with my panties soaked, I saw Mr. Hill tuck his taser gun back into his jacket. Then my senses began to dull. Before I could really process what just happened, I blacked out.