Each day, Sarah got up, got dressed, fixed breakfast for her mother who was slowly dying of cancer, and then proceeded to bathe, dress and prepare her mom for the hospice nurse who arrived promptly at eight-thirty in the morning daily. Once Vangie took over her mother’s care for the day, Sarah went to work where she spent eight hours every day, checking out, coding, and filing books. It was a soothing occupation for a tired mind, and Sarah was far too young to be seeking solace in a boring, nowhere job.

Her only escape was the adult section of the library. The adult section contained books for those over the age of eighteen only. There were books written from the early seventeen and eighteen hundreds filled with wicked tales of naughty escapades by Dukes, Earls and their reluctant but equally naughty ladies. Some of the books were

much more modern, but she preferred the older ones because they were well written, and the plots amused her in between the sexual encounters.

Each night when the library closed and everyone was gone for the day, she would lock the doors, slip off to the adult section and pick out a book. Often, she would sit in one of the easy chairs placed around the library for people to comfortably enjoy their reading, kick off her shoes and curl up for another titillating tale. With only a table lamp or two turned on, she would slip into the story while her hands slipped inside her clothing. With her mind in another place where rules did not apply and responsibility did not bind, she would find her pleasure in exotic locales, and with fantasy lovers who knew the secret yearnings of her young body. These books were her only escape from the smothering reality of her existence.