Chapter 4

The next day I woke up very early without the usual benefit of my alarm clock. The day was beautiful, rich with sunlight and promise. I jumped out from the covers where I had slept naked for the first time in over ten years. I went to the bathroom to confront the face I had seen last night. I went through my usually careless toilet with great care and building excitement. I was looking forward to going to work. I almost laughed at that thought.

I couldn't eat breakfast, I was too anxious to begin the day, so I climbed into my car and went to work. I unlocked the door and went into my office. I fixed some coffee and lit a cigarette. I waited for Harry to arrive.

But when he arrived finally, I found myself acting the same way I always had toward him. As if I didn't care a bit for him. He treated me with respect, since I was the employer, basically, and he the employee and it was all very Miss Andrews and Mr. Smyth and I felt like an ass.

I watched Harry all that day out of the corner of my eye. He seemed more attractive to me all the time, I watched the way he moved, the way he talked, every time he smiled it hurt me with the beauty of his mouth and his eyes lighting up.

And the young girls that came in, didn't they notice those things too. Didn't they seek out his attentions and his smile, and he responded to them, every one of them, even the ones that weren't so pretty. He flirted with them sometimes, taking their hands or touching them in some subtle way.

And I thought that I would go mad. I was feeling terribly jealous of all those young women, of their youth and their beauty and their position. How I would have liked to have been able to exchange places with just one of them for a few minutes it would take to be able to flirt back with Harry.

I used every opportunity that came up to talk to him about this or that unimportant thing. He didn't seem to think it was that strange, though, and went about his job pretty much the same, except that he did spend so much time communicating with the young women. I suppose that I had just never cared enough to notice before.

Finally it was just all too much. I thought to myself that I would have to do something or else life would become unbearable. I would talk to him, maybe I would confront him with what I had seen the day before, maybe he would leave then.

I hesitated, did I really want him to leave? Yes and no. I wanted my sanity back and I knew that as long as Harry was there I would be a madwoman. I also thought that I had no hope of gaining his affections, the scene I had enjoyed with the two young men the night before had been quite another story. They were people that I would never see again, so indulging in sexual relations with them was no problem. They could relate to me on that level and I to them. But Harry, didn't I see Harry almost every day?

On a flush of courage and determination I approached him.

"Harry," I said, touching his arm, "I'd like to speak with you in my office if you have a moment."

His gaze was friendly, beautiful. "Sure, Miss Andrews."

He followed me to my office and I closed the door behind him, but I didn't lock it. What would be the purpose of that?

I sat down and took a cigarette from my pack, I offered one to him and he took it with thanks.

"Sit down, Harry," I said, looking directly into his eyes, "I wanted to talk to you about your job."

"Yes, Miss Andrews," he said, leaning across the desk toward me.

"Do you like your job, Harry?"

"Oh, yes, I really do. Why? Haven't I been doing a satisfactory job?"

"Well, Harry, I've found your work satisfactory up until this time, but it does seem to me that you spend an awful lot of your time flirting with young women that come in to use the facilities."

Harry shrugged, "One has to be friendly, Miss Andrews, I had no idea that it was flirtation."

There are limits to friendliness in a public library, Harry."

"I don't know what you mean," he said, coloring.

"If you think really hard about what your activities were yesterday, I think that you'll understand what I'm talking about, young man."

Harry jumped up from his seat and came over to stand next to me. "I don't get you."

"What were you doing in that supply room yesterday Harry?"

His mouth dropped to his jaw, "Oh, God," he said, "I wasn't doing anything, just talking."

"Don't bother lying to me, Harry, I saw everything."

"You mean you saw me....?"

I shook my head, "I saw you getting sucked off Harry, and I saw you eating out the young lady."

He looked shocked at my word usage. But I think he was more shocked at the fact that I had seen what they had done. I could practically hear his heart racing. I really felt sorry for him, he was scared shitless, figured that he had just lost his job, maybe even worse.

But he stood his ground, he looked me squarely in the face. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Who was the young lady?"

"I don't know," he said, "And if I did know, I wouldn't tell you."

I nodded to him and his sense of honor. What a charming young man he was, how much I wanted him. "You know, of course, that I will have to fire you?"

"I really need this job," Harry said, still standing next to me.

"I think there are other jobs, young man." I stood up, finding that he was a good three inches taller than me.

"I really need this job, Miss Andrews," he said intensely.

"How much do you need this job, Harry?" I said, my voice becoming hoarse and weak.

"I need it real bad," he said, this time smiling a little.

I couldn't control myself, my hand reached out and brushed the front of his pants. "Do you need it this much?"

He smiled at me, "You're a real pretty lady, Miss Andrews, I'd have no trouble whatsoever needing it that much."

And then he didn't say anything else, he took me in his arms and held me really tight and found my lips and kissed me very hard. I sighed; I sighed with relief on his shoulder. For that moment at least, I had the wonderful feeling of Harry holding me in his arms, the wonderful feeling of his lips on mine.

His tongue sought my tongue and he sucked my mouth into his. My body felt like wet cotton, my knees seemed to be made of jelly. His hands began to search my body. One of his hands rested on my breasts and he fondled my tits roughly, but very nice. He wasn't inexperienced, obviously, although he was pretty young. He knew what to do. He touched me, reaching under the thin material of my blouse and into my bra and fondling my flesh. He touched my nipple and I thought I would die from desire for him.

I cried out a little.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"Nothing, nothing," I whispered back, "Only, it feels so good, so good."

And he continued to fondle my tits and kiss me, exploring my mouth with his tongue, making my heart beat very fast. I kissed him back with passion equal or superior to his, wanting to fill his mouth with my mouth, wanting to have him so bad.

Every inch of my flesh was crying out for his young body. My brain was wild with need and desire for him, for his passion, for his male strength.

I felt for his crotch, for the front of his pants and found there a wonderfully hard bulge, his young cock was responding to our contact, to the melting of our two bodies together. Oh, I wanted to see his cock again, his erection, and this time it would be for me.

His hand left my breast, slid down my stomach and rested between my legs. He felt up underneath my skirt and into my underpants. His hand felt rough and soft at the same time, it felt very curious, very intense, very anxious to find the seat of my pleasure. He touched my clitoris and rubbed it gently, with fine strokes. Shivers of lust and desire spread throughout my groin, flames of arching need tickled my insides, made me spread my legs further and urge on the explorations of his fingers.

He stuck one finger up my cunt, which was already oozing liquid love, creamy indication of my need, of my want for him. His finger pried at my opening and gently made its way up into my warmth.

I cried out a little then, too. It felt so wonderful as he began to fingerfuck me, sticking his finger in and out and massaging my clitoris with his thumb at the same time. Every muscle in my body reacted with longing, with an urge toward completion.

He stuck another finger up into my flesh and now two fingers threaded in and out of my cunt, going faster and faster all the time. I pressed the bulge in his groin, and soon began to fumble with his buttons and the zipper on his pants. I wanted to feel the hardness of him I wanted to feel the softness of his balls and the hardness of his cock. I remembered how beautiful that cock had looked, how shocked I had been at first, but now how much I wanted him.

I got his zipper down and soon my hand was wrapped around his prick. He wriggled a little and fingerfucked me harder, breaking the rhythm of it at first.

He felt wonderful needless to say. His hard cock seemed very long and wide for a boy his age. I reached down for his balls and they too seemed particularly well put together for his youth. An Adonis that's what he was. I imagined that I was Venus, that this was our cave where we would live together and make love. Venus was older than Adonis, wasn't she?

His free hand went up into my hair and he removed the pins that held it up. My auburn hair tumbled down past my shoulders. Again I had the strange feeling of being young, of being that age I had missed out on, the age that I had hid through in books and in determination to grow old before my time and not be hurt by the desires of my body.

But it was a fine feeling, a strong feeling. My blouse was open and now my bra was unhitched and my large breasts were tumbled free in the air of my office. My skirt was hiked up to my thighs where Harry's hand was embedded.

My hand stroked his boyish prick rapidly, with rhythm. I felt the arch of his erection. Like a bow it was, like Cupid's bow was the hard insistence of his erect cock. His flesh so warm and strong. The odor of his manhood rose up to my nostrils and I felt totally engrossed in the aura of fleshy experience.

His fingers threaded through my hair and found my ears, he made circles with one finger all about inside my ear and that further excited my body, made me move toward him, shoving my pelvis into his, seeking union, seeking satisfaction.

We both grew very excited then, rubbing our bodies together and caressing each other's sexual organs frantically, coming to that moment of release which would make us one in madness.

And it came to me through his fingers, through the rhythmic touch of them on my cunt walls and brushing my clitoris.

I began to whimper and I screwed my eyes up very tight as my orgasm flooded the secret places of my body, as I shook with the intensity of reaching desire. I went up to the pinnacle, riding his fingers, humping his hand, flooding myself with fulfilling movement. I arched onto him and he shoved his fingers very hard up into my body.

And he, too, began to move in my hands, his throbbing cock sliding back and forth, forcing my hand back into the rhythm I had lost temporarily as I had come. He made slight noises with his mouth for a while and then sought my lips again, to suck my tongue and crush my mouth against his.

His hot come flooded into my fingers, oozed into my hand. It was creamy and warm and spurted in what seemed an incredible amount from his cock.

He pushed me back down into the chair as his fingers were removed from my cunt. He opened my shirt wide and his head came down into my breast. His mouth found a nipple and he began to suck me there very hard.

He licked and sucked at the nipple. His tongue flew around it like feathers. I felt very nice, very weak, very satisfied. But flickers of desire haunted my body still. He sucked my nipple for what seemed like a long time, for long minutes and long licks.

I spread my legs out and again he found my hot cunt which was all wet from secreted juices. He caressed me there very gently.

My hand wandered over his body, feeling the muscles of him, the curves and the creases, the bones that protruded here and there. I looked down at the top of his head, the line of his back.

I wanted more than just a fingerfuck. I wanted to spread my legs for him and have his cock in me.

"Harry," I whispered, "Please, let's fuck. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your hard prick in my cunt."

He sat up and looked at me, his hand still resting on my wet cunt. "I'd like that, too. But not here, not in the library, not when we have to hurry. We'll go some place after work where we can take our time."

"Yes," I said breathlessly, "You can come to my house and spend the night. We can go there. No one will bother us."

And then it occurred to me that all that had just passed between us, all that had been done with the door unlocked, with the library practically unattended. Anyone could have walked in on us, and then ... it was a horrible thought, now that I was reclaiming my sanity.

"All right, Harry, we had better go back to work now."

We straightened ourselves up and then went back outside. I still felt weak in the knees and I was so very conscious of having a cunt. I could think of nothing all day long except Harry and his body, of Harry's cock. How very soon it would be that I would have the experience of fucking Harry, of lying in bed with him naked.

It was a very stimulating thought that I carried with me. I was like a school girl. My fantasies all came back to me. I thought about me and Harry together and in these fantasies, I imagined that I was a young girl. I imagined that I was his age, that I had not all those years between us, all that dust on my bookjacket.

I dreamed of us walking through fields and lying in the grass of his breathless attentions. I dreamed of losing my virginity to him on a moonlit night.

Of course all these thoughts were absurd. I knew very well who I was, and what my position was in the community. But I had no one, no one who cared for me. I also realized that Harry did not care about me either. I was just a vehicle that would prevent him from losing the job that he needed. How long could it possibly last?

I knew I was trembling on the brink of a dangerous situation. That I was preparing myself for not only pleasure but for pain, too. For my eventual betrayal again.

How strange it was to be so elated with the present and at the same time so fearful of the future. I was, after all, no fool. I knew exactly what I was letting myself into. I knew that I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help it. I needed Harry Smyth. I needed his young body, his probing cock, his hands on my breasts.

I couldn't stop the longing of my body for him.

Carol interrupted my meditations. I felt her soft hand on my arm. "Hey, Jane, what's on your mind?"

I looked at her, "What?"

"You're really spaced out today, is there something wrong?"

"No, love," I said, smiling, "Not that I know of.

"Good, that means we're going to the movies tonight, doesn't it?"

The memory of my promise to Carol stung me. "Oh, damn, Carol, I had forgotten all about that." I searched my mind for something to tell her, some excuse that would get me out of going to the movies and get Harry into my bed.

"Listen Carol, would you be terribly angry with me if I begged out?" I looked down at my shoes.

"No, of course not, honey, but do you mind if I ask why you changed your mind?"

"No. I sort of have a date."

"Yes, well, you had a date with me tonight, Jane."

"But, Carol, you must understand, a date with a man, after our talk the other day .,. ."

"Even so ... okay, well, it's not up to me to criticize you, I just thought that we were friends."

"Shit," I said a little too loud, "of course we're friends, we can go to the movies anytime, we see each other practically every day ... I don't think you should be angry with me."

Carol put her arm around me, "God, for an older woman, you sure are dumb, Jane. You've got a lot to learn about men. For one thing, they always like you better if you put them off a little. For another thing, you should never put off your friends because some guy crooks his finger at you."

"But Carol, it's been so long...."

"So what does it matter if it waits another day? But that besides the point, go and have fun and don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

I didn't have a chance to say anything else to Carol because she left me then. I couldn't help but think about the things that she had said. There seemed to be logic in what she said. But passion, passion knows no logic like that. It only knows the force of eros driving you to drop everything and do anything to be with the object of your passion.

At times during the rest of the day I would pass Harry and he would wink at me or touch me. I tried not to notice him flirting with the pretty young things. After all, I would have him tonight to myself. There would be only me and Harry. Carol would not be there and no pretty strangers. I would live for that, for this night that was coming to me and then after that, maybe I would die.

But that was only a brief thought that I had. The rest of it was all sweet imagination. Sweet imagination that worked directly on my cunt. My underwear was wet all day long.

It was so intense that I finally went into the bathroom and sat down on the seat. I spread my legs and both of my hands wandered down between my legs. I caressed my own thighs, I pretended that they were Harry's hands. I touched my own clitoris, the hard little point of desire. My fingers lightly skipped up and down along the lips of my cunt and flitted into the dark opening to my womanhood.

Creases of desire, thoughts of hard men flooded to me. I thought of Harry, but I thought of other men, too. I thought of the two young men on the beach. I thought of the wretched old men who had been in the bar. I thought of how their rough hands would be, reaching for my soft flesh, grabbing at my cunt.

The harsh weight of their desire, their filthy minds and their ugly old bodies. And then I would think about the young men, the clean, the youthful passion. That was what I needed that was what I wanted. None of those old farts for me. Oh, no, wasn't I a teenager in my body?

I was practically a virgin, a ravished virgin perhaps. But that was so many years ago. And that would never happen again. No, I wouldn't let it. I would be loved by young men and I would love young men. I knew that I would have to change my way of living. I would have to work on being prettier, on looking younger.

My finger slid up into the dark warmth of my cunt. I searched my flesh out, feeling for the recesses of desire, of want. Oh, how I wanted Harry's hard cock pushing up into my womb.

Soon, soon, I told myself as shivers of stimulation pricked my skin. As goose bumps rose on my flesh. I touched myself very hard and closed my eyes. I was thinking sex and nothing else, that was all I could think of.

I was mad perhaps, but it felt good, stroking my own cunt, feeling my own juices oozing out of my vagina. Feeling the sensitivity of my clitoris, the curling darkness of my pubic hair, the crawling of my thigh flesh. Even the touch of my own hands was quite enough to stimulate me completely.

I leaned back against the wall and let my head flood with fantasies that seemed to originate in my cunt.