Reference Desk

The university library was a historical landmark, built in the 1870s and one of the few buildings in this part of the world using the particular technique of an exposed interior cast-iron skeleton. It was this construction technique, with its ornate pillars painted green, that allowed the central book hall, the oldest part of the building, to be built like a three storey room lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, ringed with walkways. The main floor was filled with bookshelves as well, set in a diagonal, mazelike square pattern.

Everything was built in some dark wood, with fluorescent lights mounted on the shelves in faux-antique brass holders, and enormous lanterns in brass and green opaque glass hanging from the painted ceiling. The only disadvantage of this large hall was the acoustics created by the high ceiling, amplifying every sound and creating an almost ominous atmosphere. The wall on the bottom floor was lined with study tables, all in the same dark wood as the rest of the furniture, each with its own green desk lamp and, in a concession to technological advancement, a wall socket where people could plug in their laptops. Because of the acoustics, a strict "Sshh!" policy was enforced in this part of the library.

This sector of the library was, obviously, the managements' pride and joy, and also very lucrative. Since it was designated an architectural landmark, it received government funding just to keep it standing, funding separate from the library's other funding which could then be used to stock and equip the rest of the organization. Only about a third of the library's stock was located in here, most of it related to history of one variety or another. The room was mostly used for quiet, one-- on-- one studying by doctorate students.

Alan Harper, 35-year-old librarian and charged with acquisitions and reference work in the historical sector of the university library, one of three in that work group, was making his rounds before closing time. It was Monday, and the library was open until 10pm for the benefit of late- working students. He didn't mind working this late, he had always considered himself more nocturnal anyway, and the evenings were almost always more quiet than the day shift.

He had worked at this library for just over four years, finally securing a steady job after having several short term library jobs, working as a temp or on some project or other. It was a good job, as such things go: he had just enough responsibility to feel useful, but not so much that it would overwhelm him any time soon, the pay was decent and he had been able to structure his working hours to suit him acceptably well. He felt that he had risen to his level of competence, and most days offered at least some challenge in the form of more or less complicated reference questions from the students.

Alan lived by himself in a modest apartment only a few bus stops away from the library, and liked it that way. He had over the years had a few longer relationships, and had even lived with a girl for two years, but he had discovered that his need for solitude just wasn't reconcilable with living together with another person in a small apartment. They had parted as friends, more or less, but both had since moved to other cities and had lost touch.

Since then Alan had dated briefly a few times, but not much had come of it and he had mostly given up. Every couple of weeks he went to a local pub with a few friends, listened to some music and had a few drinks, but the group had dwindled lately as some of the others had settled down with partners and children.

His only other activity outside of work consisted in his weekly workout classes. He had always loathed going to gym or playing sports, but a few years earlier he had gone to the doctor with an insistent ache in his back, and received a sharp telling off, so he had started going to group exercises offered by the students' sports society and had eventually grown to like it. He was by no means athletic, but kept in shape well enough that his back no longer hurt, and he had been using the same size of trousers ever since he started the workout.

Alan was of slightly above medium height, with a slender build and moderately handsome features, with dark hair that seemed constantly windswept in spite of his efforts to control it. Some of the students had likened him to Harry Potter because of this, and because of his oval glasses, but he had only ever read the first book in the series and didn't quite grasp the reference. He had never considered himself a hunk in any way, but knew that he was at least attractive enough to draw looks from some of the staff and students.

Today it was October 31st, Halloween, and the rain lashed appropriately at the windows of the library. He remembered how he, in younger days, had turned this day into a festival together with his other Goth friends, but that was years ago. Tonight, he was just going to do the round, wave goodbye to the other evening staff and spend a couple of hours catching up on some cataloguing he had missed.

Some months earlier, as the fall semester began, he had noticed a new addition to the teaching staff. A petite brunette who, like him, favoured generic black clothing, had started turning up at the library asking for books on anthropology and history, and he had soon learned that her name was Helen, and she was a doctorate student who had transferred from another school to write her thesis, and supported her studies by teaching classes. She was new in town, and didn't know anybody outside her faculty.

Since Alan often worked the late shift on Mondays, and usually did reference work in the history and anthropology section, they met often and had developed an easy and familiar professional relation, although none of them had made any effort to get to know the other privately. Sometimes as they worked to find some obscure piece of historical writing, they meandered into other topics of conversation, and lost an hour or two talking before realizing what they were supposed to be doing.

It turned out that they shared some of the same interests, including a somewhat morbid fascination in medieval medical instruments and torture devices. Alan had never before met anyone who was not slightly unnerved by the talk of iron maidens and Spanish pears. On one occasion they began talking about historical views on sexuality and its practices, but quickly left the subject, a little embarrassed. And a little aroused.

After a couple of months he found that he had begun to anticipate her almost daily appearances in the library with something akin to joy, and he though he could notice a delighted gleam in her eyes when they met. He also caught himself thinking about how her slightly wavy, dark brown hair glistened in the sun beams coming through the windows, or how intensely brown her eyes really were behind her neat glasses. He had decided not to act on these impulses, not wanting to jeopardize their good accord because of something that may well only exist in his own head.

He waved off Stan and Elizabeth, the other two staffers on the late shift, locked the door and made a final round through the library, turning out the lights as he went. The last room he visited was the ancient book hall. Having already gone through this room before closing time, and not having seen anyone going in, he only made a circuit around the wall and went back to the door. As he turned off the main light, only leaving the constantly burning night lights along the walls to illuminate the great hall, he heard a woman's voice burst out in a surprised "Oh!" from somewhere in the stacks.

'Damn it', he thought to himself, 'we must have missed someone'. Out loud he called:

"Hello? Who is there?"

"It's just me," the muffled voice came back. "I must have lost track of time. I'll be right out." He could hear footsteps closing in.

A few moments later, Helen came into view, weaving her way out of the labyrinth with an enormous folio in her arms. Her small stature made the book seem even larger.

"I was looking through this, and found some quite captivating passages... well, you know," she said. I was going to put it back where I found it, but with the lights out I couldn't..."

"That's alright, just put it on this trolley, that's what they're for," Alan replied with a smile.

"Oh! Er... well... I can put it back myself, if you just turn the lights back on," she said with a slight blush which made Alan glance suspiciously at the book. He thought he recognized the volume, and a mischievous glint came into his eyes.

"Don't worry about that, I'll take it. I know these shelves like the back of my hand anyway," he said, and held out his hand to her.

She blushed even deeper, and handed him the book without looking him in the eyes. It turned out that his suspicions were correct: it was a 19th century description on medieval morality, particularly detailing the church's prohibitions regarding sexual positions. Very explicitly illustrated. Alan knew it well; it was popular among first-year history students. Not so much on account of its historical content, he assumed.

"Ah, this one. You've found yourself a real gem here, I say," he said, deciding to play it cool. He didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was. "This was the first major text on this subject, and the illustrations are very highly regarded. Almost all are full-page woodcuts, as you know. Fascinating, how deeply into peoples' private life the church and authorities of the day were involved, don't you think?"

At this, she looked up at him with a surprised look in her eyes.

"Ah, yes... quite. So, you've read it then?"

"Well, not all of it, but enough. Did you know that even something as simple as positions with the woman on top were strictly prohibited, since they were considered prevention? It was believed that if the man was not on top, she could not get pregnant."

"Yes! I did actually! And, sex for other reasons than procreation was forbidden, just like everything else that was fun," she smiled, relaxing a bit.

"Not to mention oral sex... but on the other hand, considering what we know of the view on personal hygiene during the middle ages, who would ever want to..."

She pulled a face, both amused and disgusted at the thought of this. Alan smiled at her, and noticed how her nose wrinkled prettily in the glow from the night lights.

"Now, let's see..." he said, walked over to one of the reading tables and switched on the lamp. He laid the book down, opened it and flipped gently through it until he found what he was looking for.

"Here. This is one of the church's manuals describing all the prohibited sexual positions. This was in fact written by a group of monks in some monastery or other, who had presumably never seen a naked woman in their lives, much less had actual sex with one. And still, this describes in explicit detail all sorts of sexual practices, one more advanced and acrobatic than the other. Just look at the illumination on this facsimile page here, is that even humanly possible do you think?"

She let out a delighted laugh.

"No! Really... just think about these monks, sitting alone in their cells at nigh, dreaming up position after position in their minds, turning them over and over, knowing that they will never know for themselves what it's like... unless one of the waify young novices proves favourable," she finished with a mischievous smile. "Are there any more illustrations?"

They started flipping through the book, looking at the pictures of men and women, and sometimes farm animals, cavorting across the pages in the medieval equivalent of Internet porn, making comments and laughing. Sometimes their hands touched accidentally as they both pointed to the same picture, and without noticing it they were soon standing shoulder to shoulder. Alan suddenly became aware of her scent, a pleasant mix of herbal scents (her shampoo, he assumed) and her own, also slightly floral scent with a faint musky undertone. She had bent down to look more closely at a picture of two women and a goat, of all things, and he just stood still enjoying her scent for a moment.

The, as she straightened back up, he caught himself and said:

"It's getting late! I was supposed to catch up on some cataloguing, but this was a lot more fun." He smiled at her. "We should do it again some time. I'll just put this book back where it belongs."

He picked up the large volume and carried it back between the darkened book shelves to where he knew it belonged.

"I... left some stuff on the shelf, I'll just get it and pack up, all right?" she said and followed him into the gloom.

He found the place for the book, put it back in the shelf and turned to leave, when he smacked right into her. She had been picking up her pen case and was standing much closer than he had noticed, so he almost knocked her over. He reached out a hand to steady himself on one of the shelves, and grabbed her around the waist with the other to keep her from falling. She dropped the pen case and grabbed him for support.

For a moment they stood like that, holding each other, startled and with their faces mere inches away.

"Sorry," he said, "how clumsy, I'll..."

And then she kissed him.

He had imagined this moment, once or twice, but he had to admit reality outstripped fantasy by far. Her lips were soft, her tongue eager, and he felt his own lips spark with electricity at the unexpected delight. When she let go, she drew back with a thunderstruck look in her face that he knew was mirrored on his own. She drew a breath to say something, but before she could he grasped her head and returned the kiss with at least as much fervour as she had displayed. She sighed, hugged him tightly and threw herself into the kiss like her life depended on it.

He felt her hands slide down below his waist and caress, then grab his buttocks through the fabric of his black slacks, and his breath quickened. He let his own hands slide downwards as well, caressing her shoulders over the black blouse she wore, down her arms to rest on her hips. She was now almost kneading his bottom, and he certainly didn't want to lag behind, so he cupped her buttocks and squeezed them gently.

As soon as she first kissed him, he had felt his cock begin to stir, and now it was insistently pressing against the front of his trousers. When she felt his bulge against her abdomen he felt her smile through the kiss, and she withdrew slightly and started undoing his belt. Now that she wasn't pressing herself eagerly against him, he was able to reach up and fondle her breasts, which were almost perfect handfuls for him. This caused her to sigh quietly as she unbuttoned his trousers and let them drop to his knees.

She stroked the bulge in his shorts briefly, and then quickly released him from his confinement. She then broke off the kiss, looked him in the eye and smiled wickedly as she went down on her knees in front of him. He was now fully erect, and quivering. She grasped his rod gently, and ran her tongue from its base to the soft tip once, twice, and then those soft lips enveloped him. He sighed, and softly ran his fingers through her hair as she worked the length of his cock with her lips and tongue.

While he had never considered himself to be endowed with more than average, it quickly became clear to him that she thoroughly enjoyed what she was doing. She worked her way up and down his shaft, keeping her eyes on his face to take in his reactions. As she continued her treatment, now slowly licking him, now bobbing her head around him quickly, he unbuttoned his black cotton shirt and let it drop to the floor. He felt his cock beginning to tingle, and realised he had to stop her before things ended a little earlier than he wanted to. He reached down and put his hand on her chin, making her look up at him with her eyes misty behind her glasses.

"Wait," he said, "not yet..."

He kicked his sandals off ('I never thought I'd be thankful for these ugly Birkenstock', he thought.), and pulled his trousers, shorts and socks all the way off. He was now completely naked, and she was still fully dressed. In the middle of the great hall of the library. He grabbed her hand and led her back through the stacks to the table where the reading lamp still burned, his erect cock bobbing before him. When they reached the table he turned and kissed her again, tasting himself on her mouth.

He turned her around so she had her back to the table, and had her hop up to sit on the edge. He kissed her again, and started unbuttoning her blouse, as she slowly stroked his cock. Under it she was wearing a black cotton bra, and he could see her nipples straining against the fabric. Her creamy skin created stark contrast with the black cloth of the bra, and Alan paused briefly to simply admire the view, and her gentle stroking. She looked up, into his eyes, and seemed delighted by his appreciation. He couldn't hold off for long, however, but resumed caressing her breasts and shoulders.

Suddenly she let him go, and reached behind her to unclasp the bra. As it dropped to the floor he saw her breasts for the first time in complete freedom, and drew in a breath. They were nearly perfect, slightly oval, and the skin caught the light in a way he had only seen in alabaster before. He bent down and kissed her again, then sank to his knees before her and gently grabbed these magnificent breasts in his hands. She sighed as he softly squeezed them, and gasped when he let his thumbs lightly brush the erect nipples. These were nearly the same colour as the breasts themselves, with only the slightest brownish hue marking the aureoles.

She was looking down at him with a fascinated look in her eyes, but as he leaned in and let his tongue caress one of the nipples, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and emitted a short moan. As he continued to address her breast with his hands and mouth, she softly grasped his head, running her fingers through his dark hair.

She was wearing a knee-length black skirt, and Alan slipped his hands up underneath it as she sat on the table with him kneeling before her. He caressed the outside of her thighs until he reached soft, silky fabric. The waistline of her panties was just within his reach, and he grabbed it and pulled, slowly. She let go of him to put her hands on the table and hoist herself up just enough to let him pull them off completely, his mouth never losing touch with her nipple.

He found that she was still wearing her black eight eylet doc Martens, and had to struggle a little to pull the panties free, but then his hands immediately went back under her skirt. He grabbed her buttocks and squeezed them, thankful that her skirt was just wide enough to allow this movement. He could hear her moaning with pleasure as he alternated between sucking and licking her breast and nipples. He had smudged his glasses on her skin, but didn't really care. He then let his left hand trail from her bottom to her thigh, and travel slowly further until he could feel a patch of trimmed fur. She immediately spread her legs a bit wider, allowing him passage.

His fingers slid down towards the source of glowing warmth, over the short, soft hair, until they reached the top of the precious slit. He let them rest there for a moment, before stroking downwards across lips he now felt were slightly open already, slick and moist the further down he reached. She let out a shuddering breath, and he started moving the fingers gently back and forth, up and down, pressing carefully as he passed over the place where he knew her clit was hiding beneath the moist folds of flesh.

She put her hands further back on the table and leaned back a little, allowing him more room to manoeuvre, and he brought his other hand around to join the first. With the right hand he reached in from underneath, heading directly for the source of moisture. Her labia had parted even further by now, and he felt the wet satin of her inner lips against his fingertips. He began circling the entrance, and when he finally slipped a finger inside her she twitched and blurted: "Ah! Ah..."