My name's Michael, and I own a bookshop in a small university town. It's far from those brightly lit book warehouses you see these days, my place is quite small, a bit quirky, and I specialise in books you're less likely to find in the big stores. I don't have what you might call a roaring trade, but I get by on some regular clients and online sales.
One of my semi-regular visitors was a female student. I can't really call her a customer as she never actually bought anything, but I consider it bad business practice to chase browsers away. She never said a word to me, just took the stairs to the upper floor, stayed perhaps half an hour then left. I noticed her because of her quite striking looks. I don't think many objective observers would call her pretty: I estimated she was about 20 years old, five-feet-five or so and chubby, with shoulder length brown hair, thick eyebrows, a wide nose, fleshy lips, and an unfortunate purple rash on one side of her face, from forehead to throat. She was busty though, and appeared to have shapely legs under the black skirt and woollen tights she habitually wore. Not that I'm any glamour model -- I'm 48, tall and spare with receding salt and pepper hair and glasses.
By about her third visit, always on a Friday afternoon, I wondered what she was doing upstairs. I have discreet cameras up there, to detect pilfering, and I had a look. I found the girl in the Victorian section, perched in a window nook. There among the Wilkie Collins, George Gissings and so on there's a small collection of vintage erotica -- nothing pornographic, mostly of the bodice ripper variety. What I saw amazed me -- the young woman was engrossed in a slim volume, with one hand down the waistband of her skirt, her fingers clearly moving rapidly.
My first thought was to storm up there and kick her out, but...well, the sight was quite arousing. I've been divorced for five years and I haven't had the pleasure of intimate female company since. As I watched her, I realised that the palm of one of my hands had started stroking my rapidly stiffening cock through my trousers. After a minute or so the girl suddenly gasped, dropped the book and began wildly thrashing her head around, as the hand inside her skirt went into overdrive and her other hand roughly gripped one of her boobs. I found myself breathing heavily too. After a short recovery, she tidied her clothing, hand brushed her hair then, her face still flushed, descended the stairs and left the shop without a glance in my direction.