Lost and Found Read Free Page B

“That’s Theresa. I don’t know her last name Why would you be looking for her? She’s not a prostitute.” Jessica watched Duncan ’s expression change from aloof and impersonal to palatable relief. There’s more to this than just an investigation, Jessie thought to herself. “She stopped coming in last week, but she’ll be back.”
    “Why do you say that?” Duncan asked, excitedly, reaching out to grab her wrist. “Do you know something? Did she leave something here?”
    Jessica stared at his large, tanned hand, gripping her wrist so tightly. It wasn’t a romantic touch, but the contact with this man thrilled her anyway. She wondered why he seemed so interested in what she’d said. Did he perhaps have a personal interest in Theresa? Jessie hoped not.  
    “No,” Jessie said, easing her wrist out of his grasp, and holding the photo out to him. He took it from her and waited expectantly. “Theresa got a kick out of one of our sections,” Jessie said. “She knew I was expecting a shipment and liked going through them.”
    “What section was that?” Duncan asked. He didn’t really know why this was relevant, but there was something in Jessie’s evasive manner that made him wildly curious about Theresa’s reading habits.
    “Just one of our more unusual sections,” Jessie said, looking away from his intent gaze, she began clearing some imaginary dust off the table next to her with the edge of her hand. She glanced at him, and noted the cocked brow and determined, tight mouth.  
    “Okay. She liked our Victorian erotica section, alright?” Jessie said, as color rushed into her cheeks. Within moments she was bright pink from the base of her throat to the side part in her hair. Duncan felt like touching that small valley where her neck met her sweater to see if she was hot to the touch.  
    “Victorian erotica?” He asked, smiling again, loving the fact that she became more flustered by the moment.
    “Yes, Victorian erotica,” she said, standing up so quickly, she nearly tripped over his size fourteen feet. He reached out to steady her, but she was already gone, heading down one of the long aisles behind them in a flurry of skirt. She was back in seconds and dropped a small, red book into his lap.
    The book was called Pearl : A Journal of Facetive and Voluptuous Reading . It looked innocent enough, so Duncan flipped it open to see what the big deal was. Several pages in he found an old-fashioned, black and white photograph of a proper looking woman in profile, bent over a spindly looking couch with her derriere in the air. The next page revealed that same woman with her skirt raised and a fussy-looking man in formal attire with pork chop sideburns, and a monocle, standing behind her. Upon closer inspection, Duncan realized that the man was enthusiastically spanking the woman with what appeared to be a riding crop.
    Duncan slapped the book closed and felt his own face flood with heat, thankful that his dark complexion would camouflage his blush. He handed the book back to Jessie who was sitting across from him again. She tucked it between the arm of the chair and her thigh, like she wanted to deny its existence. “Theresa thought these books were hilarious. She would sit back here and just laugh and laugh. She liked the pictures, but the language seemed to especially delight her.”
    “Language? What kind of language?” Duncan asked, stupidly. These were not the kind of questions he was supposed to be asking her, but he couldn’t help himself. At this point, his mission was completely beyond him. All he wanted, more than anything, was to watch Jessie’s rosebud pink mouth form some dirty Victorian word. He felt his groin tighten in anticipation.
    “Well, the Victorians had a tendency to use rather flowery words to describe things. Intimate things. They were also prone to exaggeration,” Jessie said, embarrassment forgotten, she warmed to her subject matter, and leaned forward in her seat. Her