In which I hope Paul Murray proves to you that he is a Perv

“Please behave; we like to have it comfortable for everyone.” Steven said as he walked past Paul, in a tone low enough for Paul to think that he was the only one who heard it. Steven walked on towards the concession stand.

Paul waited until Steven-the manager- or- whatever the fuck he thought he was- was out of earshot and then looked back at Caitlin. Caitlin was staring off in the direction that the manager had taken. Paul gave a grunt of disgust at her distraction and said.

“Excuse me, Miss Marshall?”

Caitlin came back to reality. “Yes?” she answered nervously. She looked at Paul as if she had just noticed him as he signaled with his right hand to a baroque style bench, one of eight that ringed the lobby. She turned and walked over to it still massaging her arm. She was angry, hurt and still afraid. Paul could see it in the furtive movements even as she tried to hide them.

Paul followed her, his frustration and anger cooling as he observed the gentle tilting of Caitlin’s hips as she walked. Her buttocks were tight and muscular and moved smoothly as she walked- unlike Peggy’s which were wider and softer (still looked good stuffed into those Jeans he made her wear when they went out). That guttural feeling returned, and Paul found a new heat building in him as she sat down, adjusting her black velvet skirt over her knee. Caitlin’s legs were long and well toned. She was taller than Peggy was, as almost as tall as Paul himself. She had blonde hair that fell in deep curls about her narrow shoulders, her skin was smooth and her breasts- her breasts were perfect. Paul felt his heat rise as he looked at Caitlin’s breasts held away in her velvet v-cut blouse. She was showing cleavage. They were a little larger than Peggy’s, rounder- though it could be the Victoria’s Secret bra- softer looking- hell he knew what they looked like, he had seen them once and very close up. Paul thought about cupping each of her breasts in his hands. His daydreaming ended when she made a throaty sound and his eyes met her icy blue. Paul’s fever fell like ice in a wind storm.

She glared up at him as he went to sit down beside her. She slid further down the bench in order to leave as much space between them as there was possible without falling off the bench. From his position under this cold new glare; Paul began to remember why he had come to hate this woman so much. What had started out as an innocent flirtation had become a nightmare of harassment and subsequent law suits. He stared back at Caitlin feeling a new deep sense of rage creeping up inside of him.