Disconnections

The Librarian

by Eve Adorer

Synopsis –

Barnmouth was a typical English mid-21st century town.....

The Librarian

by Eve Adorer

Desiree never let it show.

Brown eyes kept aware.

Her walk was an event. Girls gathered to watch and admire. Desiree knew the twitching curtains hid ogling eyes as she byed.

The book-lending library in Barnmouth’s Girl Market Square opened at 10.00. By then, the hairdressers had been opened for an hour. By the split between then and then, girls gathered to watch Desiree’s pretty parade; many pretending they just happened to be looking up.

What would the lovely librarian be wearing today?

The summer sun sizzled, but she was both cool and hot as she tiptoed tip-top top-tipped daintily stepping permanently provocatively en-pointe in her heelless sun-yellow-leather ballet shoes.

It was a microskirt today: one zipped over the half-moon mounds of her mesmerising bottom with its concave side-dimpled hemispherical tease and please, from her sky-high-toed strides, and her demisphere’s fixatingly fascinating alternating fall and rise and combined coordinated swing side-to side.

It was a microskirt today in chamois fawn: one with a saucy front vent at the left high, revealing the flawless bare flesh of her superb thigh, and inviting the eyes down her bare tanned legs’ creditably incredible contours.

Her crisp cotton shirt was unbuttoned to flirt with the eyes seeking to eye-over her bosom. The tails of her shirt she had tied in a bow to let her recessed button show as she bare-belly-danced to entrance so, while she wiggled her beguiling way down the cobbled paving of Oxton Lane, past ‘Sleigh and Daughters’ shop.

Conspicuously un-captured and uncontrolled and thus full of frolic in freedom, almost gone feral, Desiree’s 38DD chest was never at rest, and her breasts jiggered and joggered promising to burst her buttons with every step she took, and disappointing only in never quite succeeding in so doing.

Desiree’s shyness told in her lowered eyes, and the startling glances with which those grey glories pierced the souls of those she gave the grace of the gaze from the golden ringlets surrounding her delightfully lightly freckled face.

A smile from her generous lips went with the glow of her pristine teeth and her soprano-voiced “Good morning”, that made the day of those upon whom it was bestowed, as her hand smoothed her impossibly of intricately interlocking natural whirls to counter the breeze’s tease, and onwards strode.

Today she wore gloss lipstick, and the mimic moistness it gave her kiss was redolent and reflective of the readiness of her other mouth: her clammed oyster with pearl and sheath sans tongue and teeth: her centre and soul: the contrarian control over her sweet and loving mind.

Snuggled as it was within her teensy-weensy virginally-bright-white thong panties, its lips smiled too. Today it was, as ever, as she kept it so, shaven in delicate detail, and intricately intimately ointmented wholly free of even the hint of any augmentation. She was indeed almost more completely smooth there than she had been before the wonder of her transformation from innocence to passion via acquisition of conspicuous curves and conspiratorial nether curls, from passing through pubescence’s stormy weather and becoming a grown-up girl.
.............................

At the end of her pleasing teasing morning traipse from her three-room bachelor-girl’s apartment atop Oxton Lane’s long hill climb, to the front entrance of Barnmouth Town Library, the wolf-whistles from the girls running the market stalls in Girl Market Square made Desiree blush. She turned and answered them with a multi-directional kiss blown like confetti from the palm of a pretty hand. She knew them all. They had made sure of that.

Her pretty fingers and impractically long nails now tapped into the security keypad ‘382236’, a numerical sequence easy for the matching Desiree to memorise, and the library’s doors slid aside and would have bowed to her beauty had they been able to oblige.

With her en-pointe ballet-shoed steps inside on her lovely legs, the lighting reacted to her movements and flooded the room (the better to see her?), till reflective highlights rang in Desiree’s rippling ringlets.

She now made entrance behind the customers’ exit and entrance barrier, and entered her computer with her daily pouted kiss, and it leapt to life, with an unemotionally flat female program-voiced meaningless: “Good morning Desiree, and how are you today?”

As she checked the bar-mark readers used for recording the loaned books and DVDs in and out, and looked around to see if the overnight cleaning had been satisfactory, with a guile-free whisper Desiree answered, in an absent-minded tone, as she did every day she was on duty this way alone: “I’m just wonderful Libris!”

And to her blushing astonishment, Desiree’s computer responded with a mechanically monotoned: “You certainly are”.

After a girly gasp of pleased and blushing surprise, laughter filled Desiree’s glowing grey eyes, and she wiped away a tear from her giggles with the heel of her palm as she told her computer off with sweetly wagging forefinger and a: “That was so sweet: thank you Libris! But just wait till I get hold of the cheeky little brunette who tweaked you yesterday!”
......................

Desiree never let it show.

Desiree had a busy morning. Did custom increase because of her charm and charms? Desiree never minded the women and girls who seemed to come in with love on their minds.

“Excuse me Miss”, a pretty housewife regular enquired: “Can I see if you have ‘The Gateway to Conception’? It’s for my daughter you see....” she blushed as she white-lied.

“Of course you can: I’m not sure I’ve got what you are looking for. But we can look and see”, Desiree answered, even though she was right to suspect that this particular reader came each week with her mind on higher things.

As Desiree wiggled to the rear of the library and slid the bookcase mounted ladder aside along its rail, so she could climb to where the saucier publications were shelved, the housewife’s appreciative eyes followed Desiree’s every tiptoed stride.

“I’ll hold the ladder steady for you Miss”, the housewife insisted, even though she too had heard its safety catch click locked.

Desiree knew, of course she knew how lovely her tensioned calves were. Desiree knew, of course she knew that her knees were locked back and dimpled. Desiree knew, of course she knew how strong her thighs were. Desiree knew, of course she knew that her skirt was skimpy.

Desiree knew, of course she knew that her panties were tiny.  Desiree knew, of course she knew, that the housewife was longing to see if she could see it, for with Desiree climbing the ladder, tip-topped on her big toes on every rung to which her dainty toes clung, everything was looking up where the housewife was concerned.

Desiree climbed the steps of the ladder tiptoe in her ballet shoes not trying for display in any way, and the housewife ogled Desiree’s bottom, bare from her wearing a skimpy thong, and the length and strength of Desiree’s shapely legs, and there in between the site where it nestled hidden, passionately kissing the insides of Desiree’s gusset.

“I’m awfully sorry, ‘The Gateway to Conception’ can’t be seen, even when I’m up here”, Desiree’s sweet voice called down from her temporary eyrie. I’ve got ‘Heaven’s Doorway’. It’s a divided volume. While I am still up here, would you like me to take them down so you can see it? As you can probably spot from down there, it’s in a soft cover........ I mean it’s a paperback. I can soon pull them down if you want me to....” Desiree called, blushing more hopelessly helplessly prettily the more she realised what she was saying, in what she was saying, too late for her to stop herself saying it.

The housewife declined, and Desiree de-climbed the sliding ladder, her pretty face a confusion of shy blushes and her lovely eyes behind the reading spectacles that made her look as intelligent as she truly was, unable to look the housewife in her attractive face.

“You have been very helpful”, the housewife whispered.

“Thank you”, Desiree replied gently, “Sorry we couldn’t see what you hoped to do, but perhaps that copy of ‘The Maiden’s Tulips” you ordered will come in next week. The summer vacation is nearly over. The schoolgirls bring a lot of books back before they go off to their alma maters.”

“If you pop back in at about this time on the same weekday, be sure to look me up again”, Desiree added innocently, before blushing once more when she realised what she had just said again.
.........................

Desiree never let it show.

Closing the library while she went for her luncheon, she grasped her parasol for the noonday sun, for the late-summer sun bore down without and without mercy.

Unfolding its white protection of her perfect complexion with freckles to adore to the very fore, she had mock moistened her sweet lips with renewed gloss before stepping out, with it kissing her thong, to wander along to her favourite sandwich bar.

“Hi Desiree, you’re looking great! How are you keeping sweetheart?”

Rose pink swept Desiree’s face as she coloured-up at the compliment from Layanara, whom she saw every day, and whom she knew had the hots for her in her, Layanara’s, openly saucy way.

“I’m fine thank you Layanara”, Desiree answered, still blushing, with her eyes tellingly aglow: telling that is, that she loved the compliments she so deserved, no matter how routine they were.

“Specially for you today, since you’re my favourite customer bar none, Desiree, I’ve got a cream filled éclair!”

“I bet you’ve got one of those as well eh?!” Layanara teased to make Desiree blush, for Desiree was in no misunderstanding of what Layanara was talking about, and it, the topic of Layanara’s inferences was even now damp with perspiration in Desiree’s tight white bright white thong.

“Ain’t I wicked now angel?!” Layanara teased, pleased to have put the pretty Desiree out of countenance. “It such a blisteringly hot day though, so I hope you powdered it this morning”, she added, to stop Desiree recovering her composure.

Of course Desiree had powdered it. On hot days like this, pre-panties, she patted, cool talcum round it daily as part of her toilette.

After the careful gentle daily morning visit of her safety razor in her bathroom, and having rinsed it afterwards, she adored the feel of a warm soft towel on it, as she gently dabbed it dry, and would often hold the hot towel there so it could enjoy it.

Then, in her bedroom, she pampered it with powder before putting on her panties, loving the contrasting coolness of the powder’s touch on it after the towel, and the sweetness of her favourite talcum, the vastly expensive Denel No 69 she had been given at Christmas.

And did she sometimes afterwards bend over, straight-legged pre-panties, and look behind her to admire it in her full-length mirror? Of course she did. And did she sometimes afterwards bend over and look behind her to admire it in the mirror, and blow it a kiss? Of course she did. And did she sometimes afterwards bend over and look behind her to admire it in the mirror, and blow it a kiss, and then giggle at her sweet silliness? Of course she did. Of course she did.

As the teased Desiree blushed to please, shyly flattered by Layanara’s blatant admiration, Layanara busied herself with preparing Desiree’s favourite fresh baked French-baguette roll with:

“Extra cucumber today, sweetheart, since it’s a ‘fry-day’ as well as a Friday!” Layanara joked, referring to the sizzling heat, and not the sizzling hot Desiree for a change.

“Hey, and if you’re going into the park for your lunch, do me a favour will you Desiree: keep your gorgeous eyes peeled for little Fritzina.” Layanara requested, referring to her pet dachshund: “She slipped her leash this morning, and I called and called. Salomé and Naomi are on the case, so I expect Frizina’s already found; but another pair of peepers on the lookout would be a comfort. I can’t leave the stall you see. As you can imagine, lunchtime is crunch-time for my profits.....”

“Oh my goodness! How long is it since she ran off?” Desiree sympathised.

“....It’d be about the time you were walking into your work I reckon. It was almost as if Fritzina particularly wanted to say hello to you this morning.... Last I saw her, after she’d escaped me, she was sitting outside the library, just after you’d gone in, but the doors had slid shut before she could catch up with you. And she then ran off further before I could get to her.....”

“I didn’t see either of you....”, Desiree apologised.

“Well no. You wouldn’t have. We were in Cunni Park as you passed the entrance, and little Fritzina was on her leash up on her hind legs with her nose twitching like she was about to sneeze. I had the devil’s job to hold her.”

“She’s like that whenever she spots someone she knows. I need to get a better collar for her. You wouldn’t think that the pets stall is only just a yard or two over yonder would you...?”

“Of course I’ll look out for her”, Desiree promised with the sweetest of concerned looks on her face.

“Don’t worry yourself too much about her though sweetheart. She’ll come back soon enough if Salomé or Naomi spot her, or she spots them. I just mentioned it in case she’s chasing at the ankles of the ponygirls again. I expect truth told, it’s too damned hot even for that, and she has found her way home, same as she did about a month back....You know: the last time I told myself to get her a new collar?!”

As she wiggled away from Girl Market Square and Layanara’s stall there, to enter Cunni Park, where she would today find shade rather than seek to tan her arms and legs in her habitual way, sweet Desiree felt Layanara’s admiring eyes on her swinging bottom.

In the park, as she perched on the bench of her choice, even the heat in that shaded corner had been such that, when the backs of Desiree’s bare thighs felt it, she was prompted to stand again, and try to ensure the hem of her minuscule skirt was more under her.

As she stood, she also managed to arrange her parasol between the slats of the bench so as to add to the leaves on the overhanging trees, the further benefit of its open shelter.

Now she sat again, with her hem ridden high by the act of her sitting and thus revealing near the full length of her magnificent thighs. Thighs she kept closed so as to demurely hide it as it kissed the lucky bench behind her thong’s gusset. Thighs held together in a parallel of unparalleled magnificence. Because, as she sat so, so her thighs took on an eye-transfixing massiveness; though, in truth they were in perfect proportionality with the rest of her wholly feminine construction.

Two tiny pecks of her luncheon were enough to feed her, before she tore up the remains of her baguette to feed it to the birds thereafter, and then found her place in Eve Adorer’s curate’s egg of a story collection: ‘Disconnections’, to read on further.

No birds came. The summer heat was intense. Their absence therefore made sense, as did the other silence with no dogs barking, and no children larking. Only the clip-clop of ponygirl hooves echoed around, as the cabs and omnibuses, wagons and private carriages they hauled, had to cover the ground heat or no, sun or snow.

But one dog was an exception. She suddenly caught Desiree’s eyes in a near-distant shaded thicket.

And Desiree was about to call out to Salomé and Naomi whose feet the tethered panting Fritzina crouched at, to point out the obvious, as if it needed to be, when she realised she was seeing what it was not intended anyone should see.

Had the silence of even the bees in the searing heat of the mid-August English summer sun made these girls think there was no one around? Should Desiree put her head down and concentrate on her book? Would Desiree’s movement not only disturb the moment, but betray to the exceptionally pretty fourteen-year-old redhead schoolgirl school-friends that Desiree had seen what Desiree now wished she hadn’t; but was so fascinated by that she would never forget or regret that she had?

Brown eyes kept aware.

Desiree knew in the instant, the instant she had been spotted by Salomé. Though Naomi seemingly continued to be unaware of Desiree’s open-eyed stare, and Salomé carried on as if it were in answer to a dare as well as a prayer, to respond to a fellow-girl’s needs, hidden under the cool shading trees.

A look that could not be mistook as Naomi’s breast was bared, and the unbearably wonderful sight of Salomé kissing the site of the nipple and Naomi’s eyes raised to heaven before they closed to better enjoy Salomé’s nuzzling and sucking and suckling on her virgin pap, before Salomé up covered it back, and the girls’ lips conjoined in unalloyed passion, with tongues deployed without intense-intent’s lacking.

A break and two foreheads and two noses touched touchingly tenderly, as pairs of exceptionally exquisite dark brown eyes glowed love from one girl to the other and smiles flickered on loved lips.

Brown eyes kept aware in normalcy, and Salomé knew they were spotted. But so locked where these lovely creations in the experience of the expenditure of the expression of their pent-up passion, that their lovely orbs looked solely soul to soul, sold on the kiss that miss longed to give miss and prolong forever and beyond as their tongues once more parted their opposite’s lips, and their kiss was renewed so the world once more stood suspended and upended into heaven, as the lovers expressed god’s will, and their mouths mingled moist, as their lips told of the love that has no choice, and hands held heads of golden curls as beautiful girl kissed beautiful girl, each gently pressing the other’s head toward the other.

“Are you all wet like I am?” Naomi wheedled with an aroused purr evident in her vocal innocence.

Her only answer was Salomé’s sweet giggles as both girls tangled in a half-octopus of slim pretty arms to reach each other’s panties down.

“Let’s swap panties so our juices can mingle!” Salomé whispered even as they executed the deed: her naughtiness integral to the mention so that her words should draw Desiree’s watching attention to the intention.

But the girls had got no further than half thigh with their opposite’s panties when, bye and bye, eyes cried with unspoken clarity: ‘Kiss my breast again Salomé. Please kiss my breast again!’ And next an angelic voice lisped a cry as fingers were wetted by the seeping slits they slithered along, now each was bare of their covering thong.

And the innocent cunts of the girls, sleek and as immaculately smooth as their unsullied state and status, with tight in-turning lips minimal guard over the moist medallions within their weeping sheaths, confirmatory that they were pristine beneath, and still bequeathed the rings they must not wrong, till wedding day’s longed-for nuptial-night would see them ripped ripe amid the pain and the blood of a virgin’s beauty as she sacrifices herself in matrimonial duty.

Then a sigh rose high and a sweet hand with drying juices on its middle digit, felt a virgin-firm breast where it nestled, its bareness barely covered, and pressed and compressed it till its wonder was uncovered again as it was crushed in the caress and its compressed excess squeezed from the side of Naomi’s tee-vest.

And then there was an undressing with eyes that longed as Naomi fingered above the top of Salomé’s half-thigh-mast crisp-white thong, and slid up her longest finger where it forever longed to belong.

But this was so wrong, so very wrong.... this was surely sin!

Salomé and Naomi were kissing.

But Salomé and Naomi were sisters twin!!

Desiree was horrified even as it could not be denied that the daughters of Layanara were so pretty that this passion could surely be granted compassion.

As if the lovely lovers realised that time had meaning once more, they pulled up their panties: that is their sister’s panties, and then held hands.

“Do you really love me Salomé? I mean do you really and truly love me?” Naomi begged, till sister saw answer in sister’s eyes, and the two wonders wrapped themselves enraptured, in a slow burning kiss once more, as their mouths adorned the one and twin they adored, while passions juices into each other’s panties poured, and twin clits tingled, as their crème éclair in their soaked panties intermingled.

Then they parted ready to depart and Desiree admired Salomé’s pretty legs as Salomé squatted on her haunches in her micro-miniskirt and her sister’s very damp panties, to take the leash she had temporarily tethered Fritzina by, and awake the snoozing hound with a giggle and a kiss and a sigh, so that they could walk the dog back to their mother, its third mistress, bye and bye.

As Salomé and Naomi came out of the trees and undergrowth Naomi at least still assumed had hidden them, Desiree deserved an Oscar for her performed pretence that she had only just arrived, and had that moment accidently dropped her luncheon on the ground at a park bench near, just as she fixed her parasol there: a bench on which she intended to park and perch her rock-and-roll rear.

The two all too delectable redheads held hands as they emerged from their love nest with the darling Frizina padding and waggling faithfully along at Naomi’s gentle persuasion with the dog’s leash long.

Brown eyes kept aware as Salomé’s dainty fingers moved a wisp of curly hair from the lips of her sweet mouth, before she joyfully greeted Desiree, joined in that joy by her sister.

“I see you caught up with Frizina then?” thus Desiree made lame ploy to disguise from Naomi at least that she had been watching with her lovely grey eyes: “Your mummy was quite frantic about her.” She exaggerated to the near spoiling of her cover that she was trying to cover for what Salomé at least knew no reason why anyone should try, as that one of the twins at least was aware they had been discovered on fire in the briar.

“Oh yes Miss”, Naomi answered, “She hadn’t got far. Salomé and me knew we’d find her around the ponygirl stables cos ‘you wuv chasing ponygirls don’t you, you naughty naughty darling!’: Naomi concluded as she flashed her thighs when she squatted to ruffle the ears of the rescued dachshund, whose eagerness to free itself from its leash the better to sniff at Desiree’s crutch, in time-honoured doggy fashion, was thus arrested, as it attested to its love of the twins by licking Naomi’s face with abandoned unbounded enthusiasm in tongue and tail.

As Naomi rose, Frizina returned to testing her leash as she reared up on her hind legs, restrained by the struggling Naomi: Frizina full of doggy desire to have this third gorgeous girl, Desiree, show her love by petting the twins’ pet.

Desiree was about to stroke the over-enthusiastic Frizina, when Naomi managed to get Fritzina back on all four paws, and took the chance to lead her the way of the twins’ home, via their mother’s stall so as to show Frizina was back of course.

As the lovely redheads wiggled away with their would-be stray in tow, it was Salomé who looked back over her shoulder and gave a nervous smile a glow.
.............................

Desiree now decided she was wise to get back indoors, just as the weathergirl on TV that morning had warned and implored, as she made repeat of her concern about the heat.

With opened-out parasol replete, Desiree rose to her tiptoed feet, and deployed her legs in their other duty; other that is than displaying their erotic beauty.

Desiree glided along lost in thought. Her mind mulled on the twins and the disappointment it would be to poor Layanara, if her daughters failed the entrance examination for either St Saviours or St Innocents academy for girls: the destination to which Desiree knew they were heading for four years from next month: September, if they passed the test.

Layanara had given up a university professorship to take up the market stall and make the money a college tutor could never earn in a lifetime: the fees needed for Academy admission: both fees doubled of course, since both girls would obviously go to whichever of the academies they were signed up for in tandem, being twins.

The other fee would be for the twins’ private examination. The examination they must pass to get a doctor to rate them for their chances of a doctorate. On their backs they would be like stranded beetles, with their legs wide and their feet in stirrups while a finger would enquire inside it and feel, and ought to reveal that they were intact, or else they would be refused by the academies with no right of appeal on any basis of fact.

Desiree came out of her reverie and smiled as the captivating Salomé came back toward her. It was only as the redhead drew close that Desiree saw the anxiety on Salomé’s face, and realised just how bad her pretence had been, when the hand-holding girls had come out of the undergrowth’s green.

“You won’t tell Miss, will you? Please say you won’t tell!” Salomé pleaded in a soft whisper.

“Tell about what?” Desiree responded with a comforting smile and phrasing confirming she knew what the ‘what’ was.

“Oh thank you Miss! Thank you!” Salomé almost squealed as she kicked up, bent with toes outstretched horizontally, one thus made particularly shapely leg, when she pecked a kiss on Desiree’s soft face beside Desiree’s lovely lips: a chaste kiss, a sweet innocent’s kiss Desiree would never ever forget.

Desiree never let anyone know. Desiree never let it show.
.............................

Brown eyes kept aware.

“Where d’yer wannit luv?”

The evidently fit smoothly muscular, visibly muscular courier, had turned Desiree’s head even before this enquiry. This was now back in the library and the middle of the same day’s afternoon.

The girl had delivered once before, but Desiree had not got to talk to her that time. She had wanted to. The delivery girl’s job, carrying heavy loads, certainly kept her in trim, as did, to judge by her biceps and triceps and calves, regular sessions in the gym.

Desiree’s pupils had gone wide in an instant when she had last seen her, and a pearl inside her intimate insides had taken a growing interest in this obviously fit dream.

Her face though attractive enough, had a tiny scar distorting her top lip, making her look tough. Although Desiree would never admit it, in the time honoured phrase, she ‘fancied a bit of rough’, and the greasy-looking unkempt lank locks of the brunette burden-bearing girl, so in contrast with Desiree’s softly curled burnished gold, set her soul awhirl.

Desiree’s mind was not conscious of her eyes and heart seeing the kind of girl she longed would bed her, and saddle her softer more swervy curves, to ride her to perdition, licking her across the winning line with her tongue in it, tonguing it till her clit made her buck in rhythm and rhyme and time with it, as labia lapping licks made for one oncoming, and then coming some, and then closer coming, and ever closer coming, and then a coming and a coming and a coming to a come cum chick.

To greet this second visitation, Desiree walked over with an extra swing to her gait, putting one tiptop-tiptoed foot directly before the other to draw attention to her legs by her mode of motion.

The delivery girl held the clearly heavy box patiently, and apparently lightly, in her arms and blushed. The honey coming toward her was a walking wet-dream, just the kind of chick the courier and her friends talked about over their sixth cans of ‘Buttwiser-Blonde’ girl-pee on lonely Saturday nights.

Desiree smiled, and the delivery girl blushed crimson. Desiree’s desire now turned to a need to please by tease. She did not need words to tell her that she had wowed the gymnasium-babe who had strolled in with the box of new books.

The delivery driver watched as Desiree’s lovely grey eyes smiled at her over the spectacles she, Desiree, slid down with a ‘come-over-and-kiss-me’ beckoning index finger, to perch at the end of her freckle-peppered nose.

“Would you pop the box down on the low table just over there for me please? And, before you take the empty, do you mind waiting a while, while I check the contents as I unload it?”

“Yes Miss... I mean no Miss”, the blushing driver stammered as she felt the gentle touch of Desiree’s fingers accidentally-on-purpose brushing the powerful parabola of her bare bicep when she asked this.

“Thank you, Geraldina”, Desiree whispered as the box was next sat where she wished it, the delivery driver’s name tag having undergone the attention closer proximity allowed Desiree’s grey mesmerisers.

“I wonder if ‘My Dream Love’ has arrived”, Desiree mused aloud, in order to keep Geraldina flushed and flummoxed.

“You’re very pretty Miss”, Geraldina suddenly blurted, and then dropped her head in expectation of being rejected and an ejection from the library by an objection to her forwardness.

Now it was Desiree’s turn to blush, and her gorgeous face turned instantly the colour of rosé wine.

“Sorry Miss: I wan’t bein’ rude”, Geraldina now muttered.

“No: you weren’t” Desiree gently assured.

“’Weren’t’ then Miss....” Geraldina responded.

“No: I wasn’t correcting your English”, Desiree whispered sweetly, “It was very nice of you to tell me you think I am pretty. I am very flattered.”

The spell was broken, not by the words Geraldina had spoken, but by the obvious inexperience behind them. If Desiree had thought she had seen a vision of the girl she longed would yank her over her knee and spank her, that vision did not include for the shyness and inexperience Geraldina was evidencing.

Even though to be fumbled inexpertly and left high and dry and unsatisfied, was another of Desiree’s subliminal fantasies, that sexy disservice service went hand in hand, or rather with an imagined finger in it, without knowing what to do with it now it was in it, from a younger girl, a schoolgirl such as Salomé or Naomi, preferably the more knowing Salomé, or better still Salomé and Naomi; but did not fit with this ‘rough trade’ type of girl.

However, though Desiree would have liked her now to go, Geraldina wanted to stay with the girl by whom she had just been slain, and there was an emptied out container to wait for after all.

Thank you for the compliment”, Desiree added, before she turned and busied herself burrowing in the box, bent over straight legged, unknowingly with her skirt’s hem clear of her thighs and so high as not to hide the bright white thong sling, slung between her legs: the virgin-white hammock in which it patently nestled, its bifurcation apparently blatantly delineated.

Despite her desire to look, one glimpse of Desiree’s orbital bottom, bare where her thong did not cover, and of the centrally-creased pouch it made in her panties’ gusset, and Geraldina bit her lower lip and looked hard at the floor. But brown eyes kept aware.

“What do you think of it?” Desiree enquired, in a tone confirming her distraction, as she used the computer of her excellent memory to tick the hits and misses the books in the box scored, against the ones she recalled as having been ordered, while she unloaded the contents and placed them in associated stacks on the table.

“I think there’s a lot to be said for it myself: don’t you?” Desiree enquired, perfunctorily as she bent over a little further and raised one of her exceptionally shapely legs up to counterbalance herself, innocent of the fact she had just shown all of her panties, the visibly pert pouch it made in them not least, and was thus perturbing and disturbing Geraldina’s besotted big brown eyes.

“It’s rather tiny with not much room inside. Everything is squeezed in it very tightly”, Desiree added as she bent right over to put two books on the floor, and her skirt’s rear hem flicked up and got caught up to stay where gravity had stolen it, and where Geraldina must steel herself not to steal a look to see if it revealed it.

“I’d love for it to be divided in a completely different way..... For instance, there’s lots of things that could be put in it..... There seems to be no appetite for new approaches to it though.....Just dive in and give it a go, that’s what I say..... I’ve been used to it being very damp on occasions before now”, Desiree mused, her hem still caught up so that her tiny tight white thong and the central emboldening where it nestled, were unintentionally still on display.

“Do you think white is the right colour? It’s very bright and rather distracting don’t you reckon? And it’s suggestive of some kind of church-like purity that could put people off visiting it... Well what do you think of it? Does it get your vote?”, Desiree concluded, finishing her sentence slowly as the realisation dawdlingly dawned, of what she was showing, and that her becoming blush was rushing to enrose her gorgeous freckle-kissed visage, even as her hands made butterflies in flummoxed flutter to put her hem down back from riding high above her bottom’s semipheres, back all round down around her lovely thighs, where it should belong.

“Oh god.... I was meaning the new library....it’s so tiny compared with where you delivered last time....but it’s air conditioned now...no damp patches any more... and they’ve painted it so brightly...” Desiree tailed off as she slowly sunk her head with increasing embarrassment.

“You looks just like a rose Miss, a really pretty rose”, Geraldina whispered as she picked up the emptied-out courier-carton, and walked out to take the reins of her ponygirl-pulled delivery-cart once more; turning before she left to add: “And I promise what I won’t tell me mates inda gym and da bar wot I saw your knickers never...”

Desiree’s lovely eyes conveyed her silent thanks, before her sweet nature made her hide her flushed face once more.
.............................

Desiree never let it show.

Brown eyes kept aware.

Her walk was an event. Girls gathered to watch and admire. Desiree knew the passers-by ogled her lovely legs as she tiptoed by.

The book-lending library in Barnmouth’s Girl Market Square closed on Fridays at 4.00 pm.

By then, the building-site workers had sweated for nine hours. But by when she passed, they broke from their labours and whistled and cheered the beauty as she lowered her mid-back-tress-blest gold ringlet dressed head shyly, as the blonde foregirl would bawl out for all to hear and her buddies to cheer:

“Do you shave it darlin’?”

“Is it smooth as a baby’s bum?”

“Did yer girlfriend kiss it this mornin’?”

“Do yer squeal when yer cum?”

What was the lovely librarian still wearing at the end of this long humid day?

The summer sun sizzled, and she was both hot and hot as she tiptoed tip-top-top-tipped dainty stepping in her heelless sun-yellow-leather ballet shoes carrying her unfurled parasol to shade her lovely complexion.

It had been a microskirt again today: one zipped over the mesmerising mounds of her wiggling behind with its come-on tease and sublime subliminal ‘spank me’ pleas.

It had been a microskirt again today in chamois fawn: one with a saucy front vent at the left high, revealing the flawless bare flesh of her strong tanned thigh, and inviting the tired eyes up and down her beautiful legs’ wonderful contours, and extreme shapeliness.

Her by now crumpled cotton shirt was unbuttoned to flirt with the spies seeking to eye-over her 38DD bosom. They were bare under her shirt and full of frolic and play as she entranced so, while she tiptoed her seductive dance, going up the cobbled paving of Oxton Lane, past ‘Sleigh and Daughters’ shop to her bachelor-girl’s apartment.

Desiree’s shyness told in her lowered eyes, and the startling glances with which those grey glories pierced the souls of those she gave the grace of the gaze from the golden ringlets surrounding her freckle peppered face.

Snuggled as it was within her teasingly-weensy virginally-bright-white thong panties, it smiled too. Today it was, as ever, as she kept it so, shaven in delicate detail, and intimately intricately ointmented wholly free of even the hint of any would-be curly augmentation.

But today all day Desiree’s clammed oyster with pearl and sheath sans tongue and teeth: her centre and soul: the contrarian control over her sweet and loving mind, had been bleeding its monthly into fresh panty-liners.

She was on her bleed, and so, supremely feminine indeed. And as she waved at the teasing building girls who cat-called to tell her she stunned them, there was no one there among them who would know that Desiree was on her scarlet flow, for Desiree never let it show.

The blistering heat of the sizzling sun beat down on the beauty as she wiggled her bum, on her way from a day so hot that it had made remark that no bird had sung and even the dogs in the park had apparently been too wearied to bark.
.............................

Only twenty, Desiree was far too young to recall when air conditioning had been affordable by girls in her station in society. But she had experienced its benefits in the library where she worked of course, and the homes of wealthy friends, and longed for it in her tiny apartment now. Power was of course so limited these days, with no oil left bar at the price of a handsome ransom.

The TV muttered in the background. Desiree ears heard the sound without listening to the end of news plot conveyed by the jokey tone, of the pretty readerette in her studio alone, as she sexily intoned ‘the mystery of the missing pooches’ and how so many dogs could have gone astray, when it was such a hot day, that the last thing on their doggy minds could surely not be play.....and why the song birds had ceased to have their twittering say’.

Fit chick though she was, Desiree had found the day-long tiptoe-top-topped, totty-trotting, traipsing teasing trip on her big-toe-top-tips in her ballet shoes, tiring; and how her curvy calves ached!

Her lovely legs looked so wonderful tautly tensioned that way, but a girl needs to kick off her shoes and walk around in other than constant ballet display for some part of her day. Even so, like all girls these days, Desiree was more used to walking in pirouette display.

Though only in ballet shoes could she be raised to the very tips of her big toes alone, so used to it was she, that she would find herself right up on the tops of her toes at home, even when barefoot all day, unless she made a conscious effort to avoid walking around that way.

Today, after the heat and humidity of the long late summer sun’s power, she felt soiled, and longed to get into her bedroom’s cubicle shower.

Choosing to forego a brassiere in order to help keep cool, had caused her to perspire under where her heavenly breasts nestled on her chest, and the resulting lubrication had left them never at rest, with the inevitable outcome that her nipples were decidedly distended by the consequent constant rub on the insides of her pointedly appointed blouse, and tingled ecstatically with the electrical charge resulting from them electing to be anything but static: friction having excited them to being decidedly aroused.

Meanwhile, between her handsome thighs, it continued to seep her monthly into the pad lining her panties insides. And, although the modern panty-liners Desiree wore during the day, were very reliable and efficient that way, she was having a particularly heavy bleed, and longed to freshen it up, and don a heavy duty sanitary towel for it in it to drip its monthly crimson need.

On edge with her period as she was at the end of her tiring day in the heat, Desiree was pale and nervous and far from her usual celebration of the wonder of her sheer femininity. Even the high-tension charge she felt in her nipples could not arouse her as it would have done between her bleeds infinitely.

So she can perhaps be forgiven in such a crime-concerned era, for going into her apartment and picking up her doormat dropped mail, with a bend of her body flashing her gusset, while forgetting to shut-closed the entrance door to her home, as she entranced entrancingly distractedly, lips pert and pouting a kiss, looking through the letters and bills that the post-girl had delivered in that morning’s midst.

Then, as she put down her mail on a table, the corner of one of Desiree’s devastating grey eyes caught the slow opening of her apartment door, and the loving heart leapt in her one-ten poundage as she turned and wiggled to make it belatedly secure.

But it opened more, and a ghost seemed behind its inward motion, till a darling Dachshund, Layanara’s little pet Fritzina, trotted in to calm Desiree’s nervous commotion.

Fritzina was all tail wag and appealing features, and Desiree’s heart went out to the sweet little creature, and she bent, straight shapely legged, to hold it in her possession, thus flashing the panties in which it nestled, still patterning her pad with the potent passion of her monthly session.

And as she knelt down to meet her: “Ooh Fritzina: you naughty girl! Have you run away from your mummy again?!” Desiree whispered to the mischievous creature.

Carrying and stroking the head of the run-away dachshund in her kitchenette to take her, Desiree wondered if to make her eat vegetarian since Desiree did not eat meat, was likely to make Fritzina replete, or if anything else would the perceived need meet.

Putting her down to find food for the hound led only to apology that nothing suitable could be found anywhere, in either larder or Frigidaire. But at least there was water on tap for Fritzina to lap from a bowl on the ground, if a suitable receptacle could be found.

As Desiree reached up to an old bowl on a shelf to take it down and use it as such, Fritzina rose too, two hind legged, to smell at her crutch, and the touch of the damp nose of the dog on her bare thighs made Desiree squeak sexily with its cold surprise.

Desiree must have known that Fritzina only wanted to sniff at it, but such a thing is not what a nice girl would ever admit, or her conscious even dream, her mind affirming there was but one animal in this scene, and all other thoughts unthought by her, because completely obscene.

But on such a hot day as this, even a girl as fit as this lovely miss was, in the humid air, only too aware that she was perspiring; and the now licking dog was surely really only to taste the salt of her sweat, there where she was bare, aspiring.

But then her thigh its tongue met, and slid along long, till it touched near her crutch and thong, and that was too much for the sweet angel, who altered her availability, by standing the legs that drew constant mention, to a strict upright attention, as she filled the bowl part whole, after washing it out first, with water Fritzina ought to want to slake her thirst.

Now kneeling to put down the bowl for the eager Fritzina to lap, Desiree recalled she had left open her apartment door’s latch, and made moves to put right that fact, before phoning to arrange for Layanara or her daughters to take their dog back.

It was as Desiree was raising her gorgeous thighs from making a heavenly lap, to stand and put the licked-empty bowl back ready to wash, that poor little Fritzina let out a pained yap, as if Desiree’s dainty foot had on her poor paw stepped back to squash.

Though that was not so, there was no way for sweet Desiree to know, as she swept up the doggy to beg its forgiveness, and kiss and pet it, to heal and nurse as she could at best, while the scheming Fritzina tried to nuzzle her breasts as if to put whether Desiree was lactating to test.

At this apparent naughtiness Desiree giggled and blushed, but the dogs tongue found her right nipple within her unbuttoned shirt, and nibbled and licked it till it depicted arousal’s flirt.

And despite that it hurt the lovely girl’s mind, to be so unkind, she stopped Fritzina from licking her sweat-salty breast, wiping freed fingers over its spittle, surprised at the pleasure she felt in her nipple by having had an overgrown puppy’s love mistake it for its mother’s dug.

Overwhelmed by her love, for the little distraction, Desiree had swept up the darling hound and petted her with a kiss, not realising she had been duped by the little bitch miss.

And, so Desiree returned, holding Fritzina, to her lounge suite, only to find the room replete with a mass gathering sitting around, silent of sound, as if waiting for Desiree to come in from the kitchenette with the traitorous dachshund.

Brown eyes had kept aware. Sensitive noses had scented the air.

All day the public had wondered at the total dog lack. Now, suddenly surrounded by the whole town’s pack, sniffing the air and scenting she was in season, Desiree nervously bent to put the Dachshund down back, with terror suddenly supplanting her reason.

And, amid the fearsome snarling sounds to control her, it was the teeth of two Alsatians that got to roll her tiny panties down along her long legs. Legs so shapely and smooth, that her panties slid and dropped her curvy calves around, letting her blood soaked menstrual pad fall-leaf to the ground: her thong next tangling her shapely ankles, as if they were by it bound.

Then as her saturated pad was being licked by a Pekinese, a hind-legs-risen St Bernard pushed her down to her knees before two Chihuahua bitches tore her blouse to bits, to nip at her nipples and savage her tits, while amid her cries and terrified pleas as their tongues sought out its deepest nook, it was the Great Danes who were first to lick it out, while she suddenly sighed and wantonly bucked, before lovely librarian, Desiree Mountjoy, got it endlessly, repeatedly, and repeatedly endlessly, fucked.