With one of her hands now free she tried to push against his thigh. “Shhhhh,” he breathed in her ear as she belatedly thought to scream. “Just b... still.” Although there were seats lining the wall next to him, he leaned against the wall with her between his legs, slightly splayed to accommodate her height, arms enfolding her. Eyes shut, she was held firmly against his chest while her ass was nestled in the cradle of his hips, head resting on his collarbone, face turned from him but unable to. She also swam every other day in the community pool at a time when there were few others to bother her with unwanted discussion of things that didn't concern her in the least.The organizer of the writing club was an elderly retired man who had written reams of content with very little financial success or notoriety of any kind. His name was Harry and he seldom said anything unless he truly meant it. That was a big switch from her spouse of many decades who could discuss almost any subject from. More

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