Guilty But Satisfied

Christopher

I felt like I had just robbed a bank or done something equally illegal. I had stopped in the men’s room after leaving Leila in the attic area. We certainly couldn’t walk out together, and I was not quite that confident I didn’t have some kind of evidence on me. I felt guilty as hell.

Guilty and oh so satisfied.

After a quick check in the mirror, a little finger combing through my hair, I was confident I had removed any traces of the fact I had just gotten laid in the library. That sounded like the statement of a teen. I was still coming to terms with what I had done.

I opened the library doors, stepping into the cool December air and making my way down the path towards the parking lot where my truck was waiting for me. I could smell her on me as I walked. I was sure it was probably in my head, but her scent lingered. I was half-tempted to lift my fingers to my nose and inhale.

I didn’t. I resisted the urge. Partly because I didn’t want to get a woody while I was walking on