Chapter 3: The Right Tool for the Job

It had been a couple of days since my encounter with Lisa. I was finally starting to relax again. Maybe my indiscretions would just fade into the mists of time like I had originally hoped.

The phone at the reference desk rang. It was Emilee the reference page calling from the staff room, the room where I had taken Lisa.

“The computer back here is making a strange noise” she said.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on it” I replied.

It was a fairly quiet afternoon, so I was able to slip away from the reference desk for a few minutes again. I walked to the staff room and opened the door. The sound I was greeted with was the gentle hum of a computer fan.

Puzzled, I turned to Emilee. The sight that greeted me was surprising, to say the least. She was sitting in the chair at her desk, naked from the waist down. She was smiling, but looked a little nervous.

Needless to say, just looking at her did little to eliminate my confusion. Not knowing exactly how to act in this situation, I figured I would fall back on what I came here for.

“You called about a noise?” I queried.

“Ummmm, there isn’t anything wrong with the computer” she offered, unhelpfully.

“Okay, I suppose you want me to ask why you aren’t wearing anything below your tee shirt then.”

“I want you to do to me what you did to that woman the other day.”

Damn, there it was. I knew this was going to bite me. She had obviously seen me somehow, so there was little reason to deny it. It was time for those gears in my head to start turning again. They had obviously served me so well last time.

To start with, Emilee was a fairly average looking teenage girl. Her skin, as much as I could see of it, was uniformly pale, but smooth. Either she didn’t spend much time in the sun, or just plain didn’t tan. Her hair was long, past shoulder length at least, dark brown and straight. Her legs were nicely shaped and slightly parted. They framed a nicely trimmed triangle of dark hair between her legs. There was nothing physically that would make it less than pleasurable to fulfill her request. I liked her personally as well.

“Emilee, I would love to do that, but there is one problem. I’m pretty sure you are underage.” I offered, knowing it would not deflect her from her purpose.

She laughed. She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. In the end, I had two choices. I could walk out of that room and risk her telling someone what I did. In that case, I would lose my job and likely be kicked out of my house. If I chose to go down on her, and someone found out, I would have the possibility of those two benefits, plus the opportunity to tour the local justice system.

In the end, the decision was made by the apparent ruler of my body, Peter “Pete” Hardon, who was providing a growing bulge in my pants at the time. I would be going down on that girl.

“You can never tell a soul about this” I said, knowing I had read that line in several erotic stories. I didn’t think it was terribly funny at the time, but it seems that in all of the stories I had read with that line, the girl had told someone.