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I couldn’t help but laugh as I quoted her. “Like a hand with that?” She giggled as she knew she had that one coming to her. She then promptly wriggled her ass against me making me even harder. If only I had no pants on. Again she reached forward rubbing her pussy up then back down the length of my cock. I could feel the heat of her even through my shorts. She grabbed the bag of clothes she was reaching for. “Thanks for the lift,” she said with a wink then looked down at my cock straining to tear through my shorts. “You may want to do something about that though.” Thinking she was talking about my hard-on I looked down to discover that what she meant was the rather large wet patch on the front of my shorts. That was going to be very hard to explain. I decided to skip the explanation and head on home. Besides I had a situation to take in hand, so to speak. “Tell Neil I had to head home please.” “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have seen you explain that one.” “Well how could I. Anyway, I looked up when the pipes began their music, and I looked out the huge mullioned window onto the unchanging scene outside. I could see a schoolhouse across the way, kids let out for the afternoon were running away from the building like they had been held in confinement all day, and shadows cast by the mountains were advancing across the scene like Napoleon’s armies. Relentless? Would that be inappropriate to describe the passage of time in a library? A woman walked out of the schoolhouse and headed across the quad toward the library. She was fifty-ish, and appeared out of place in her surroundings. Most of the women who walked by the library that afternoon were dressed in newish jeans and rugged plaid shirts, and to a one they were wearing what looked like rubber boots. Functional in the extreme, these women were dressed as good utilitarians might be in any agrarian village, attired as if to be prepared to shovel snow off the roof, or help milk the family’s cows each.
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