There were cowboy books, of which J.T Edson and Louis L’Amour seemed to be the star turns with Zane Grey bringing up the rear, detective thrillers with Hank Jansen and Mickey Spillane well represented, and about half the window made up of pulp romances by such literary luminaries as Barbara Cartland and Denise Robins. Fivepence enabled the discerning purchaser to borrow up to three books a week. Two discerning customers – in the shape of shapeless middle-ages housewives with headscarves covering up their hair-rollers, carrying capacious shopping bags, were scouring the shelves, looking for something a bit more spicy than Mrs. Dale’s diary. Seated at a desk in the front corner of the window, sat two women sipping tea. One was motherly and middle-aged, wearing a pinafore over her blouse and skirt, and bedroom slippers on her swollen feet. She clearly worked here, and I greeted her politely. The other woman was younger, in her thirties, and quite beautiful. Her face was long and a. She was mashin' her lips hard against mine n' I could feel her tongue sliddin' back n' forth across my upper lip. Hell, it wasn't ten second before I had the hardest hard-on I ever felt. Without even thinkin', my hands slid around her shoulders and pulled her against me. When we finally come up for air, we just looked at each other and grinned like a couple of little kids.She never said a word but stood up and took my hand, pullin' me into the house and up the stairs. Before I knew it, we was standin' in her bedroom and she was pullin' my T-shirt over my head. Then she turned around and said, "Unbutton me!"My fingers was shakin' like I had the palsey as I was tryin' to get the tiny little buttons through the tinier little slits. Before I even got 'em all undone, she slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She was standing there in her brassier and panties lookin' like somethin' that come down from heaven.My mouth was so dry I couldn't hardly speak. Beth sat.
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