Welcome to my latest Tuesday's Tale! This week's word prompt is "library". I've brought back Eric and his sweetie, who are still on their house hunt. Eric has a good use in mind for this home's library, and it ain't reading.
To read the rest of the stories by some fine authors, go to the Tuesday's Tales Web Site.
It took about a week for Eric to sufficiently recover from rolling around in poison ivy. He had welts everywhere - use your imagination. His arms, his legs. Both sets of cheeks. Worst of all was The Itch That Could Not Be Scratched, around his groin. His genitals were on fire! Daily Aveeno baths helped some but not much. He slathered on so much calamine lotion he could have used it as a second skin.
By the time the welts were a grumpy pink rather than a screaming red, we resumed our house hunt. This time, we took a train to Salem, Massachusetts, since the house in question was located near the train station. Our footsteps echoed when we walked into the foyer.
"This place is beautiful!" I said as I took in hardwood floors and a bay window that overlooked a pond. I could kiss our real estate agent. Each home we visited was better than the last.
"Wait until you see the kitchen. It has its own zip code," Eric said. We followed the real estate agent through a cozy dining room into an expansive kitchen. A large butcher block table sat in the center of the room. A circular pan holder hung above the table. Marble counters gleamed in the sunlight cast into the room through two windows over the sink.
"I always wanted a kitchen with windows. Our kitchen gets mighty hot." Eric said.
"This one won't," the real estate agent said. "If you get overheated, just open the windows." She cranked open both windows, letting in a light breeze. "You can affix window boxes there to grow herbs. Imagine being able to open a window to grab fresh thyme for your dinner."
"I love to garden so that's right up my alley." I clapped my hands with delight. "How about the bedrooms? There are three?"
"Yes, three bedrooms, two baths," the real estate agent said. We followed her out of the kitchen to a huge living room. A fireplace filled one wall, and a metal door sat about halfway up the wall next to the fireplace.
"A beehive oven!" I raced to the door and opened it. There was more than enough room in there for a muffin pan. "I can bake bread and make your favorite blueberry muffins in there. The oven works with heat coming from the fireplace."
"You've told me about those ovens before. Here, you'd get to use one." Eric said.
"The bedrooms are upstairs. One bath is ahead of you, off the living room." The real estate agent pointed towards the far right end of the room. "There's a staircase that way that takes you upstairs. Feel free to explore. I have to make a few phone calls. I'll be in the kitchen if you need to find me." She walked off, pressing buttons on her iPhone.
Eric grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the stairs. "Let's check out the second floor. I want to see the master bedroom."
"I want to see the library," I said. "You know I have plans for that room."
"Your very own office," Eric said. I followed him up a spiral staircase to a wide landing. The hallway loomed in front of us. The bedroom that would be our son Paul's was on the left. A parlor that we could turn into a guest room was on the right. At the end of the hall, one door led to the master bedroom and the other led to the library.
"Which one do you want to christen first?" Eric gave me a wicked smile meaning only one thing - he wanted to get it on again out of the real estate agent's earshot. I rolled my eyes.
"You have a one-track mind," I said as I opened the library door and walked in with him on my heels. He had already pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the library floor.
"Will you slow down?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't. "We're going to get in trouble again. What if she catches us?"
"It won't be the first time." Eric said with a wicked grin on his face.
I turned away from him and wandered around the round room, which was part of a tower. Floor to ceiling recessed bookcases lined every wall, begging for books to fill the shelves. Long windows graced the walls, letting in plenty of light for reading - or frisky play. He snuck up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"What books do you think we need for our new library, assuming we rent this place?" He squeezed my breasts. "How about 'A Sale Of Two Titties'?"
"I am! I know! Here's a good one." He slipped one hand down my pants, and pinched my ass. "'David Cop-A-Feel'."
"Now you're just being silly." I shrugged him off, but I didn't fight him all that much. He unbuttoned the first few buttons on my blouse.
"Here's another title for your bookshelves - 'Whore and Peace'." His hand slipped inside my blouse onto my breast. I shivered both in excitement and nervousness over the probability of being caught - again. Our real estate agent sure had some tales to tell her colleagues!
"Didn't you learn your lesson in the poison ivy patch at the last house?" I asked.
"Yes. I learned to avoid poison ivy when I want to feel you up. Ah, that reminds me of another book title - 'Great Sexpectations'." He pinched my right nipple until it stood on end, and I giggled both at the erotic sensations coursing through my body and his very bad puns.
He backed me into one of the bookcases until my butt pressed against a shelf. As I balanced myself, he pressed his lips against mine. I melted into his kiss, opening my mouth so we could play tonsil hockey with our tongues. His fingers slid beneath my pants until they found my heat. I jumped when he spread my lips apart to get at my clit. Unable to help myself, I lifted one leg to give him easier access, and we leaned all our weight on the bookshelf. I heard creaking but I thought it was the house settling in the cool of the late afternoon.
With a loud crack, the shelf broke free, and both of us fell to the floor with a resounding crash. My heart raced so much at the shock of the fall I nearly didn't hear the real estate agent's heels tapping down the hallway towards us.
"I should have told you two the bookshelves aren't very steady," she said, laughing all the while. "They can't take several hundred pounds of body weight. But now you know that."
We rose and straightened out our clothing quickly. Eric grabbed his shirt from the floor and shrugged into it. I blushed so much in sheer humiliation my cheeks burned. We followed the real estate agent out of the house, trying not to snicker too loudly. We decided against that house in the end because it was too far from the coast and it was the most expensive rental, but it sure was beautiful. By six p. m. we were on the train on our way home.
Eric wouldn't let me relax during the forty-minute train ride. Of course not. The man was a born exhibitionist. And I wouldn't have him any other way.