When Phoebe returned to the library after lunch, she found her friend Chantal there. Chantal had moved to the community recently, and they had become acquainted as she had shown her about the library. There was something about Chantal, which had brought out a feeling of friendship even in the old Phoebe. Phoebe had decided it was the hint of loneliness, no maybe that wasn't quite right; it was an introspection that sometimes left her quiet and withdrawn. No matter, Phoebe had been drawn to her and the faint hint of accent in her voice, plus the beautiful uncommon name hinted at mystery. Phoebe knew she had children at home and a new husband whom she loved. She also knew that he was away a lot leaving behind a woman with a passionate nature. How did Phoebe know all this, because the old Phoebe never hesitated to ask questions and watch what a person reads. Chantal was eclectic in her choice of reading material but if one paid attention it soon became clear that in her choice of fiction whether it be action, mystery or romance, all needed a touch of romance and hence Phoebe's conclusion of passion.
Chantal came frequently to the library in the afternoons, it was her little escape from the real world. She loved fantasies of strong powerful men, the men she found in books, ships captains, swashbucklers at heart, who would ravish her against her will, while with hands voice and mouth she showed them her distain of their boorish behavior. She'd beat them about chest and shoulders with clenched fists while their mouths tried to capture hers. Her breasts mashed against their powerful chests causing thoughts she was trying to oppose. Suddenly a rude invasive hand would slide up her skirt and discover her bald pantiless pussy weeping yes, yes, yes. Her mouth, which up until that moment she had held tightly closed would soften and open allowing his probing tongue, her lips accepting his as his fingers roughly penetrated her loins bringing her animalism to the fore. She didn't take note that these men always seemed as though they had just stepped out of a shower, clean and neat, sweet of breath, and although they would sometimes leave bruises on tender thigh and breast, they never really hurt her.
Phoebe didn't know about her other reading material after her kids were safely tucked in bed. The erotic stories that her computer's search engines found for her often arousing her to acts of passion. The old Phoebe, if she had known, would have been disgusted and would have ended any semblance of friendship. The new Phoebe was far more tolerant and would have aided her friend in any way she could, if she were interested, because the new Phoebe found her attractive. Phoebe looked around, where was Paul, he had been coming to the library off and on for years, but recently he had been around almost every day and when he saw Chantal, he would ask her if he could sit with her awhile. Chantal had a shy but friendly soul and would always allow him her time and they would chat about the community. Oh, there he was dressed as usual in a shirt and tie headed toward the table that Chantal was sitting at.
Paul looked down at his newfound friend, recognizing that she was daydreaming again as the book had slipped a little no longer at an angle were it would be comfortable to read, her glasses had also slipped down her nose. She wasn't movie star beautiful, but there was something about her he found attractive, very attractive, because he found himself coming back to see her day after day. He cleared his throat and as usual asked her if he could sit. She glanced up startled. She had been just about ready to spread her legs for her latest mental creation, deep into her fantasy. Upon recognizing him, she smiled and he saw one of the things that had attracted him so, the smile warmed the room.
He began as usual talking about the community, looking her over as he did, watching the unconscious habit of the finger coming up to push her glasses back into place, finding it cute. Her hair was obviously dyed but a color that went well with her lovely skin possibly adding further to her attractiveness. His own daughters had mouse brown hair that they dyed a light blonde. Her make up, although not what he would call subtle, was artfully applied. He surreptitiously looked at her breasts knowing that most women where capable of noticing anything more than a blink. What he could see of them they seemed to be soft and full. He liked them. He wasn't a tit man though, he had grown out of it early finding strong thighs and a full ass far more interesting. It didn't hurt that his wife of thirty years had had the legs and ass he dreamed of. He was of course far too old for her, his sixty years which his bald head and graying fringe portrayed, disallowed any thought of a romance, but the old can dream as well as the young. He felt he was just about old enough that he could have been her father. He was sure she was on the light side of forty but he knew she had troubles at home and saw some of the concern and care in her eyes that may have aged her, a little, throwing off his guesses. They talked on finally coming around to the garbage bin in front of the old house. While they talked about the possible renovations that were going on, and how nice it would be if they were able to see inside, Phoebe walked by overhearing their conversation.
"Sorry for interrupting," she said, "but I couldn't help overhearing your talk about the old house. The owner is a good friend of mine and I know he would be happy to show you around, here let me give you this," and with that she scribbled a note on a clipboard she had been carrying and passed it to them. The two talked about it, then allowing curiosity to win, took Phoebe's note and began to walk over to the house.
Paul wanted to take her hand in his as they walked but realized he would be presumptuous to take the hand of this young woman freshly married. The storm of the previous night had left puddles everywhere and the hot afternoon sun turned the atmosphere into a wet sauna, almost a steam bath. If one looked closely one could almost see the moisture rising into the surrounding air. Paul loosened the tie around his neck and undid the collar button. Chantal seeing the relaxation of his dress code undid a couple of buttons at the top of her dress showing a touch of cleavage and a hint of a black lacey bra. She fanned her hand over her bosom adding a different kind of heat to Paul's body. He finally got his wish, taking her hand in his to help her across a rather large puddle, cherishing her softness before giving her, reluctantly, her hand back. They continued walking, he always making sure she walked to his inside, a lifetime habit that he did unconsciously.
Soon they saw the old house, with its garbage bin still out front. Paul rang the doorbell and they stood waiting for a response, half-wondering why they had come. The house didn't recognize them for neither had been a signatory on the petition, but noting their passionate natures felt it would enjoy their visit. John answered the door with a smile, "How may I help you?" he asked.
