took a step down on the ladder to begin the next row of books â they were on the hardboiled section now in the back of the store â lost his footing, and damn near tumbled off the ladder.
"Sheldon! Watch it for god's sake!"
Sheldon just looked at her.
"Jeez, Lyd . I was the one who almost broke his neck here, you know?"
He was right. She was being testy. Inventory was almost finished.
Another hour or so and they could get out of there. She was exhausted, though. And nervous somehow. Keyed-up. She guessed that was the price you paid for a little extra enjoyment sometimes. She was supposed to have driven back to town early last night from her week in Davis Park but things with Ross had been so good she'd decided to stay the night and return this morning. Then they'd been sort of slow getting started â slow getting out of bed, actually â and there was that awful tie-up on Riverside Drive, and now they were running incredibly late.
Sheldon was good even to be there at this hour and here she was yelling at him.
"Sorry, Sheldon."
"It's all right."
It was the oddest thing, though. She could not get Ross out of her mind. The inventory was important â damned important when you were the owner and looking at another rent increase three months from now â but all she could think of was Ross.
She kept feeling him inside her. Actually feeling it.
She could close her eyes and see him naked and feel the strokes. God! were it not for the inventory she could've stayed where she was and at this very moment they'd be . . .
She felt faint.
And she felt regret.
But she could not have left the job to Sheldon. Sheldon was sweet but he was working here because he loved books, not money. He knew every book by John D. MacDonald and Elmore Leonard practically by heart but he could barely make change of a quarter. No head for figures at all. If left to him, the inventory would have been a shambles.
As it was she'd had to watch him like a hawk. He'd miss whole clusters of books, skip them over completely despite the bottle-thick glasses he was wearing, and Lydia would have to point this out to him. He'd blush beneath the blister of pimples. Sorry.
He was sweet but exasperating. Especially after five hours on the road and five more here in the store.
And these . . . images that kept distracting her.
Time for a break , she thought. The last hour would probably go faster anyway if they had a little coffee in them.
"Come on down, Shel . Let's take five."
"Great." He climbed down off the ladder and wiped his dusty hands on his rumpled short-sleeve shirt.
Lydia took off her own glasses and put them on a pile of books beside her and rubbed her tired eyes.
Immediately the images returned. Ross inside her, his hands on her breasts. Her breasts actually tingled.
She blushed and turned away.
She poured them each some coffee and handed a cup to Sheldon and sat down.
Can he tell? she thought. Just by looking at me?
She felt that transparent.
He was eyeing her somewhat . . . appreciatively.
She was not what you'd call beautiful. Too short, for one thing, a bit too small on top and a bit too wide in the bottom, attractive but sort of plain-looking. She had spent a good portion of her life watching carefully for those appreciative looks â which rarely came. So she knew one when she saw it.
Could Sheldon have a crush on her?
She hoped not. For his sake.
Sheldon was just terminally gawky. And there was Ross.
She sipped the coffee.
Something stirred inside her, a memory that was only half a memory, Ross squirming sweating writhing deep inside her.
She heard the wall clock ticking behind her. She felt faint again, held on to the wooden stool she was sitting on until it passed and stared at the wall of books.
And for Lydia too, the night wore on.
The Bar
MacInery's was nothing special but he liked it there. The place was small and dark, about a dozen seats at the bar and twenty tables crammed together
"Sheldon! Watch it for god's sake!"
Sheldon just looked at her.
"Jeez, Lyd . I was the one who almost broke his neck here, you know?"
He was right. She was being testy. Inventory was almost finished.
Another hour or so and they could get out of there. She was exhausted, though. And nervous somehow. Keyed-up. She guessed that was the price you paid for a little extra enjoyment sometimes. She was supposed to have driven back to town early last night from her week in Davis Park but things with Ross had been so good she'd decided to stay the night and return this morning. Then they'd been sort of slow getting started â slow getting out of bed, actually â and there was that awful tie-up on Riverside Drive, and now they were running incredibly late.
Sheldon was good even to be there at this hour and here she was yelling at him.
"Sorry, Sheldon."
"It's all right."
It was the oddest thing, though. She could not get Ross out of her mind. The inventory was important â damned important when you were the owner and looking at another rent increase three months from now â but all she could think of was Ross.
She kept feeling him inside her. Actually feeling it.
She could close her eyes and see him naked and feel the strokes. God! were it not for the inventory she could've stayed where she was and at this very moment they'd be . . .
She felt faint.
And she felt regret.
But she could not have left the job to Sheldon. Sheldon was sweet but he was working here because he loved books, not money. He knew every book by John D. MacDonald and Elmore Leonard practically by heart but he could barely make change of a quarter. No head for figures at all. If left to him, the inventory would have been a shambles.
As it was she'd had to watch him like a hawk. He'd miss whole clusters of books, skip them over completely despite the bottle-thick glasses he was wearing, and Lydia would have to point this out to him. He'd blush beneath the blister of pimples. Sorry.
He was sweet but exasperating. Especially after five hours on the road and five more here in the store.
And these . . . images that kept distracting her.
Time for a break , she thought. The last hour would probably go faster anyway if they had a little coffee in them.
"Come on down, Shel . Let's take five."
"Great." He climbed down off the ladder and wiped his dusty hands on his rumpled short-sleeve shirt.
Lydia took off her own glasses and put them on a pile of books beside her and rubbed her tired eyes.
Immediately the images returned. Ross inside her, his hands on her breasts. Her breasts actually tingled.
She blushed and turned away.
She poured them each some coffee and handed a cup to Sheldon and sat down.
Can he tell? she thought. Just by looking at me?
She felt that transparent.
He was eyeing her somewhat . . . appreciatively.
She was not what you'd call beautiful. Too short, for one thing, a bit too small on top and a bit too wide in the bottom, attractive but sort of plain-looking. She had spent a good portion of her life watching carefully for those appreciative looks â which rarely came. So she knew one when she saw it.
Could Sheldon have a crush on her?
She hoped not. For his sake.
Sheldon was just terminally gawky. And there was Ross.
She sipped the coffee.
Something stirred inside her, a memory that was only half a memory, Ross squirming sweating writhing deep inside her.
She heard the wall clock ticking behind her. She felt faint again, held on to the wooden stool she was sitting on until it passed and stared at the wall of books.
And for Lydia too, the night wore on.
The Bar
MacInery's was nothing special but he liked it there. The place was small and dark, about a dozen seats at the bar and twenty tables crammed together
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