Yes [ Thanks, Amy! ]

For a while, on my own, I scour the shelves I can reach, but none of them really seem my style. When Amy returns, with a chair, she sets it down at one end of the aisle, and motions. “Here you are, babe. Took long enough my problem is gone.”

I happily go stand on the chair, scanning the shelves too high for me without it, and after two moves down the aisle, find one that seems neat. The binder draws my attention, and then the cover art is lovely, so I read the first paragraph or two.

The book is about a woman from Earth who leaves the planet on a starship she inherited from her grandfather. Vanished, and presumed dead by the government, everything he owns passes to her. Unwilling to believe he's dead, she investigates.

I hop down with the book, hand it to Amy, and move the chair. It takes a while for me to make my way down the long aisle to the far end, but my effort is rewarded. In addition to the science fiction mystery novel, I find a whole two other gems.

One a book about a disembodied malevolent spirit who bonds with a vulnerable, innocent young woman. According to the synopsis, in the course of teaching her to fight and defend herself, the spirit finds humanity, kindness, and personal peace.

The other, a book about a psionic explorer's discovery of an ancient machine on an unfamiliar world several parsecs from Earth. I think that sounds more like a mashup of science fiction and psychological thriller, but I am still fucking curious.

“Okay,” I say, hopping down and taking the other two books from her, “I think three books is enough for one library visit. Your turn!” Amy smirks a little, but she lets me have them. I sit on the floor, stack the books on my thighs, and settle in.

Amy searches for about twenty minutes, herself, also using the chair. Even at her height, the library has shelves that are a little too high for her to see easily. I don't blame her not wanting to take every book down to check since she can reach it.

Each time she finds a book, she comes over and puts it on top of the stack, until she's found three for herself. Then, Amy gestures, and I stand up, lifting all six as I do. I grunt a little, and huff, “I thought you were the stronger one, here, Amy.”

“That's why you're carrying the books, you scrawny bitch,” she replies cheerfully, grinning at me mischievously, “You, unlike me, need to add some muscle tone. I mean, I don't want to worry about the risk of breaking my bitch accidentally.”

“Oh, fuck, you,” I grunt playfully, and Amy grins at me, but I don't refuse to carry them. Stretching my arms and arching my spine a little, I follow her to the front desk. The librarian, not the one from earlier, looks from me to Amy, head tilting.

“Yes, we would like to take these out?” I say, holding the books up and carefully putting them on the counter. Amy takes out her library card and sets it down, and the woman behind the counter proceeds to go through processing our selection.

“All right, there you go. You're all set. Would you like a bag, for those? We sell some lovely cloth bags specifically to carry books,” she says, holding one up, “It's only $5.00 and helps keep the library funded. It even has handles to make it easier.”

“Oh, don't worry about him, he's my bitch,” Amy replies snarkily, and the woman blinks, raising her eyebrows, looking at me as I stick my tongue out at Amy, then back to her. “Yea, I'll take one, though. I don't have one, so it'll be very useful.”

Amy pulls her wallet out, putting her library card away and pulling out the bill, handing it over. I neatly stack the books, two by three, in the bag, smiling at the woman before looking at Amy, and smiling at her, as well. “Thanks for this, Amy.”

“You're welcome,” Amy nods, as I pick up the book by the straps, able to carry it in one hand, now. She leads, and I wave to the librarian lady and then quickly follow Amy out the doors. When we reach her car, Amy pops the trunk open, first.

“I am not riding in the trunk!” I tell her firmly, and she gapes at me for a moment as I grin at her, and she growls, shaking her head. I like knowing that I can amuse her. Over the years, her and I have had a lot of laughs, together. It's been happy.

“Put the books in the trunk, you slut, or you will be riding in the trunk, fucking smart-ass,” she replies, somewhere between a grumble and a giggle, “You are so getting a spanking when we get back to my parents' house. I swear I'mma pound you.”

“Didn't you do that before we left?” I ask, as I put the bag in the trunk, my eyes on her. Amy blinks, then facepalms loudly enough that I hear the smack of her hand against her forehead. I take that as my cue to quit or she may actually spank me.

Author's Note:
Please click LIKE if you are enjoying these chapters.