The number of cars clustered in the parking lot is a little surprising. Sure I knew there would be a few volunteers who'd answer the request for assistance at the library, but I didn't expect quite this many. It's an impressive turnout for a weekday morning, and before 8:00 a.m. to boot.
With my husband Roger being away for the first week of a two week business trip, the novelty of solo shopping and doing whatever I please has worn a bit thin. I'm feeling just a little proud that I'm actually eager to do a little community service. Lord knows that's never been a high point with me before. Being a recent resident of the city I hardly know anyone. Certainly not anyone well enough to really hang out with. This might turn out to be an ideal opportunity to meet some new friends too.
As I pass through the heavy glass doors and bound up the flight of stairs, a woman seated behind a large wooden counter running adjacent to the upper landing of a cavernous hallway smiles warmly at my approach. She rises as I near.
She's about my age, quite pretty and dressed very smartly in a black blazer and a white shirt. She's definitely a departure from my stereotypical image of a librarian. Aren't they all supposed to be some crotchety old maid with heavy dark glasses and their hair pinned into some extreme sort of bun?
"Good morning, are you here to volunteer to help out today?" she asks, her voice notably louder than what I would expect in a library. Not that I would know. My experience with libraries is pretty limited. I've never managed to even remotely understanding how to use the Dewey Decimal system. Does anybody?
"Yes I am. I heard your advertisement on the radio asking for volunteers to help out today, so I just showed up. I hope that's ok?"
"That's great," she replies warmly, "We can always use more volunteers with delivery requests."
"Well deliveries will be perfect. I have a van."
"Even better," she replies.
I'm immediately relieved I didn't drive the Honda. If the van hadn't been parked directly behind it, I'm afraid that would have been my first choice.
"If you just go to the room on the right at the far end of this hallway, our organizer Helen will be able to set you up with a partner and get you on your way as soon as possible," she says, "And thanks again for helping out."
The warm reception has lifted my mood even further, and I'm itching to get started.
Before I'm halfway down the long hallway I can hear the buzz of conversation. It only gets louder as I continue, and it's almost at party pitch when I round the corner. How many people are here anyway?
Giving the half-open door a knock before slowly entering, an elderly lady walks toward me and extends her hand.
"Hi, I'm Helen," she says in a squeaky almost frail voice, "I'm so glad you came to help out."
"Hi Helen, I'm Rita," I reply, noting the almost imperceptible grasp of her thin hand against mine, "I'm looking forward to it."
"Come along, I'll introduce you to the others," Helen urges, gesturing me toward a group of women and one solitary man gathered around a small table covered with an array of various dainties and a large coffee urn.
I like Helen immediately. With her slightly stooped posture and wizened yet delicate facial features she reminds me so much of my grandmother. The big difference being my grandmother has the blue tinted hair that she thinks suits her so well. Helen wisely goes with the natural snow white that I find much more attractive. Like my grandmother, I get the impression that Helen is a real take-charge woman.
A flurry of introductions ensues as we arrive at the table. Helen introduces me to everyone present, and of course almost insists I have a coffee and a little something to snack on.
All the other women present represent a cross section of the local women. A few are quite elderly, while most are what I would classify as typical soccer mom types. The ones who relish community activities while their children are attending school, and of course gossip. They're all a flurry of questions as we're introduced. The usual overly snoopy interrogations these types thrive on. About marriage, kids, where I live and my husbands work. I forget their names as fast as Helen introduces us.
The sole man in the little gathering stands out in stark contrast to the others. Other than being simply a man he's also rather young, very handsome, and the only black person in the room.
When Helen introduces me to Nathan I'm pleasantly surprised to find him to be very pleasant and a true gentleman. Given my penchant for always being drawn to strays and outsiders, I quickly gravitate toward him and our conversation just seems to take off. He doesn't pry or question. Instead he seems to want to simply talk. Since I'm always up for a good gab, it's something I appreciate in a man.
My blabbering is interrupted when Helen announces that she would like us to team up to do the deliveries. We're to take books that the main library is rotating between the smaller ones and deliver them to the various locations that have made requests. Since most of the others have obviously done this before, the majority of the participants have brought their regular partners. Helen pairs the few of us without partners. I'm almost positive I see her wink as she asks if I will work with Nathan. Has she noticed something I haven't?
We spend the next half hour loading my van with box upon box of carefully packaged books. Helen oversees the loading and constantly reminds us to be careful. It's probably a good thing too. The damn things are heavy. I'm actually more than a little relieved when we finally get the last box carefully tucked inside the van. It ceases Helen's constant nattering and my sweating.
As Helen gives us directions to the hospital library across the city, I finally notice how well built Nathan really is. He's quite tall and wearing the simple t-shirt and jeans attire that I am. The shirt hugs every curve and ripple of his well defined torso, and as he turns to close the rear door of the van I notice just how well he fills out those Levi's. Oh his butt is perfection. I've never been one to pass up the opportunity to take in the sight of a small tight ass on a man.
Our conversation starts anew the moment the wheels of the van start to roll. By the time we're halfway across town I've found out a lot about my partner. He's told me all about his work as an engineer, also a newcomer to the city, and of course the fact he's single. Being that I'm quite new to the city also, it gives us a real platform of commonality to gab about almost any topic. He's got the greatest sense of humor, and his joking manner has me laughing often. His company is truly enjoyable and he's easy to like. He's also easy on the eyes.
As I turn onto the last stretch of freeway to the hospital, I can't help notice his large hand splayed out across the armrest of the van seat. He has beautiful long fingers, and it's not long before I start to imagine a few places where I wouldn't mind those fingers being. I've often had rather lurid fantasies about black men, especially when I masturbate, and I sense a hot one starting to creep through my mind this very minute. Less than a mile down the freeway I'm wondering if he can detect any sense of the wicked things I'm imagining us doing. I'm sure he must be able to spot my nipples jutting hard against my bra. At least I'm hoping.
I'm calmed down a little as we pull into the hospital entrance.
Nathan says he'll check exactly where we are to deliver the books and he hops from the van as I stop in a pick-up turnout just beside the entry doors. My eyes roam his wide shoulders and tight backside as he walks toward the doors. God he's something, and I feel my nipples tighten again.
A short while later, Nathan exits the hospital entrance and turns toward the side of the building. He waves for me to turn at the far end of the drive.
We're alone in the room where we stack the boxes of books. As I turn from arranging a box on the growing pile, I catch Nathan's gaze centered squarely on my ass. The sudden realization that he's been looking, checking me out, sends a ripple of arousal from pussy to nipples. I'm a little surprised, but extremely pleased that he would look at me that way. His eyes suddenly meet mine, and he knows I've caught him looking. He should be grateful I can't see the blush of embarrassment. I simply smile and carry on like nothings happened. He's quiet.
As we finish with the last of the boxes and get into the van, Nathan's still strangely quiet.
"Is something the matter?" I ask as I pull out of the hospital driveway and onto the main street.
