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Maggie flopped back onto her bed, exhausted. The dark purple cotton bedspread was wonderfully cool against the palms of her hands. Rusty and Crank snuggled up to her, purring their happiness that she was home, but she couldn't even find the energy to pet the two cats.
The day had been a complete bust. Story hour had started late and been filled with nonstop crying, an instance of loss of bladder control, and one of vomiting. Miss Eva, ninety-six years old and full of mischief, had managed to sneak out of the library without checking out any of the five books she took with her, Mr. Rumston had dropped his pants and mooned the Sage Hens reading and discussion group, and Maggie had managed to both embarrass herself and alienate her best friend with a few ill-timed, if true, comments. And since she volunteered her time on the weekends, she wouldn't even have extra money to spend in return for working a double shift. Saturdays just didn't get much worse.
Me and my big mouth. She covered her eyes with her forearm. She hadn't meant to blurt out information about Julie and Charlie's sex life in front of a strange man. He shouldn't have even been in the library. Julie had done a check of the premises just before nine, shooing out all the late browsers. All but one. And maybe I should have listened to Julie. Had there been other things she'd missed? Was that why Julie had been so angry?
It had just been so nice to talk about something innocuous like romance novels for a change. Maggie stared at the framed print of Van Gogh's Starry Night, her favorite piece of art. She'd spent the entire week crunching numbers in an attempt to find the money to keep thelibrary open six days a week, but it just wasn't there. Even with the staff working for no pay on Saturdays, the electricity--especially now with the swamp cooler running--was just too expensive. They were going to have to start closing completely on the weekends, and would probably have to cut back their hours during the week in order to stay afloat. If only the city didn't have the stupid rule about all municipal buildings remaining open Monday through Friday. Mondays at the library were always dead. Tuesdays through Saturdays were by far their busiest days, and provided the most services to the most people.
"Enough," she said, copying her mother's "you're in trouble, young lady tone." "Margaret Jane Monroe, you need to leave work at work."
The image of their unexpected patron popped into her mind. She wondered where he was from and how long he was staying in town. Odd that she hadn't heard any gossip about him. With the population of Keily, Oregon steadily declining, any new people were cause for comment. "D.X. Hunter," she murmured. "Definitely a romance novel name." I wonder what the D.X. stands for? Probably something boring.
He was certainly good-looking--though perhaps a bit too short for the classic hunk. She was five-seven, and he was at least two inches shorter. And his hair wasn't nearly long enough. Novel hunks had to have enough hair for the heroine to get her hands into. Maggie wasn't sure why. Maybe it was so the heroine would have something to play with while the hunk went down on her. And as much time as novel hunks spent licking clit, the heroine would need something to hang onto to keep from bucking her hero off.
Hmmm. He could be from the military sub-genre. Military hunks had short hair--because of regulations. Nope. Military hunks had to be tall--over six feet--to compensate for their hair deficiency. She giggled. It was probably a good thing that romance writers didn't make the rules for military service.
And why am I thinking so much about a guy I only find mildly attractive, and who, I'm sure, thinks I'm an utter idiot?
It wasn't like she was looking for another boyfriend, or even a one-night stand. James had put her off men for life--or at least for the next few months.
She still couldn't believe James had freaked when he'd found out she used a vibrator when she masturbated. And then asked--no, demanded--that she get rid of all her toys. "It's insulting to me to think that I can't satisfy you," he'd said in that insufferably priggish tone. He hadn't been interested in learning to be a better lover, just mad that she might find him lacking.
What a jerk. What had she ever seen in him? The man owned more shoes than she did, for heaven's sake.
Groaning, she pushed herself off the bed, jostling the cats. Rusty mewped at her, and Crank made one of her rurnk noises, sounding like the tin woodsman before the application of oil. "Come on, girls, treats for kitties so mommy can have her treat." She led them out into the kitchen, where she filled their bowls with pureed chicken baby food. Both cats settled in, purring while they ate.
Back in her room, Maggie shut the door behind her and stripped off her clothes, tossing them into the dark purple wicker hamper, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Hmmm, what am I in the mood for tonight? She lazily brushed her thumbs across her nipples, smiling as they pebbled under her touch. She liked her breasts; they were large and full, a true double D-cup. Trailing her hands down over her tummy and hips, she luxuriated in the sensation of skin-on-skin. Her body, though overweight by modern standards, made her happy. She was beautiful, and she knew it.
She had just touched the top of her neatly trimmed brown pubes when the perfect fantasy slipped into her mind. Lady Margrita hadn't rewarded her faithful servant in far too long. A slow, sensual smile curved her lips as she pictured the glorious stone sentry perched at the edge of the castle balcony. A low moan escaped her throat as she slid her hands back up to cover her breasts, positioning them so that her nipples slid between her middle and ring fingers. She licked her lips, loving the way the pale pink tips peeked out from between her spread fingers. She pressed her fingers together, and the delicious pressure made her nipples ache with arousal. The gentle rush of moisture between her legs made her gasp. Oh, yes, I need this.
After giving herself one last squeeze, padded to her dresser, enjoying the slick feeling of friction against her most tender flesh as she walked. She opened her lingerie drawer and looked down at the multicolored froth of silk and satin. After a day like today, I need extra pampering.
A dusty purple silk teddy was just the thing. She pulled it on, savoring the slide of silk against her skin. The lacy bodice scratched pleasantly across her sensitized nipples. Her favorite Celtic harp CD and a few lightly scented lavender candles placed on the bedside table completed the mood she wanted.
She knelt in front of the oak chest at the end of her bed and gazed at the treasures she kept inside. Reaching in, she chose "David," nine inches of teal and white tie-dye patterned plastic with a vibrating gel cup that fit over her clit. Her other hand hovered over the plain lube before grasping the mango-flavored stuff.
Maggie placed her toys on the extra pillow on her bed and turned off the lights. The flickering of the candles provided enough light for her to climb into bed. Snuggling down into the crisp green cotton sheets, she reached between her legs to unsnap the crotch of her teddy. Once she was comfortable, she popped the cap on the lube and spread a generous amount on David. Her eyes fluttered closed as she slid the tip of the dildo into her mouth, slipping into her fantasy as she did so.