|Lost For Words
by Mark H. ©
- Dedicated to B. -
For a long time she had watched him. Not just hours, nor days, but weeks of surreptitious glances from her place behind the library desk. He came in every Tuesday and Saturday without fail, browsing for literature that was relevant to his English course at the university. She'd pieced together that particular slice of information by taking a peek at his records on the library computer. He had borrowed many books from the same area: 'Textual Studies and Issues', 'Authors in Contemporary Society', 'The History of Creative Writing'. He was an English student alright. Which meant that he probably had a brain in his head. Gold star number one. And he certainly had the looks to compliment such intelligence.
There was number two. She would have given him a big gleaming star just for his butt alone! Amy had been longing for him to come over one day and talk to her. She cursed her place in 'reference', where her presence was mostly superfluous. Her section was usually quite deserted, and people only approached her to borrow a pen or ask for one of the more expensive books that were kept on the shelf behind her. Had she worked on the main desk, she would have been in contact with Robert (she'd noted at his name, too) a dozen times, checking out his books with her best smile and coyest look.
Unfortunately, she knew she would never have the guts to actually start a conversation with him; which was weird, because she never usually had a problem with that sort of thing. But there was something about this man that made her feel awkward, intimidated. It was crazy, she knew. Whenever she even thought about walking over and trying out a casual question that might lead to more, her stomach tensed up and her head swam with some absurd sense of panic. Fear of rejection? she mused. It was a possibility. But it was more likely that she'd never before felt as sexually drawn to anyone as she did to him, and that kind of uncontrollable urge made her vulnerable.
Still, the feeling of being out of control was not entirely unpleasant.
She had plotted a hundred fantasies in the three weeks since her eyes had first widened at the sight of him, her nipples tingling and a feeling of comfortable warmth between her thighs. In daydreams, she had run her hands through his thick, brown hair, had pressed her lips hungrily to his, had stared deeply into his cool grey eyes and felt his large but gentle hands on her naked skin. He was tall, shapely, and walked with his head high and shoulders back. Yet he was uncannily skilled at blending into the crowd, walking among people silently and unnoticed. But he had not escaped her notice.
Perhaps that was one reason why she found him so compelling. He was her discovery, an untouched secret that no one else seemed to see. He was a ghost that haunted her imagination. For even when he was not there, or when Amy was at home, soaking in the tub or reading a book on the couch, she could still see him as plainly as if he were standing right in front of her.
Why then, did he never seem to notice her? It was a source of angst that left her feeling empty each time he left the library without having given her so much as a glance. She would go through possible conversations in her head on the way home, always picturing herself as confident and unshakeable. But in reality it wasn't so simple. If she could only overcome this absurd mental block and just talk to the guy! Or better still, forgo conversation entirely, walk right over and kiss him passionately like he's never had it before. That idea always made her excited again.
This morning she was very excited. It was Saturday. Robert usually came in between one and two in the afternoon, though he was not obsessively punctual. Amy started watching the door at 12:55. Today, as with every Tuesday and Saturday, she had given just a little more thought to her appearance. She never usually wore much make-up, but had gone for a subtle shade of lipstick that delicately accentuated the pink of her lips.
She had tied back her gorgeous red hair the cause of envy in her sister for so long with a small ribbon, exposing her graceful neck. Her dress, a summer style, stopped just above her knees, the front fastened together by buttons from top to hem. She had left the bottom two and the top three undone, exposing a tasteful hint of her thighs, as well as the daring peak of her cleavage. Her friends might have thought it shameful that she would make such an effort just to attract a man, but she made no apologies to herself for wanting to feel sexy.
Her wait dragged out painfully. It was already 1:35 and still he had not come in. Where was he? She hoped he would not break his routine and skip the Saturday session. She couldn't say why, but she had a feeling that it was particularly important she see him today. Could she be subconsciously gathering the courage to finally make her move? She didn't want to think about it. It was best to wait and see how she felt when she saw him. She got up from the desk and grabbed an armful of returned books, making sure that there was at least one that belonged in Robert's section. She began to put back the others, saving that one for when he arrived. She wanted to get a little closer to him, perhaps walk by and catch the scent of his deodorant. She was staring across at the library entrance, dazed and glazed, when
The books fell from her arms and she felt herself stumble sideways, grasping one of the shelves for balance. She turned her head, confused, and suddenly saw him standing right beside her. Oh my God! She'd been so intent on watching out for him that she'd somehow missed his entrance entirely and had what were the odds?! walked right into him. He was staring down at her as she tried to regain her composure.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice low and soft. "Here, let me get these." He bent down to retrieve her books; she let him. She was overcome by utter fear once again. Her throat seemed to close and her mind refused to allow her coherent thoughts.
She closed her eyes for a second, shook her head clear, and through her dry mouth managed to say, "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."
"No, no," he insisted, surprising her with a very English accent that she hadn't expected, but thrilled to hear. "Really, I should have stepped aside." He came back up holding her books. "Are you alright?"
"Uh . . yes," she replied.
"A lot of books you have there," he commented. "You must be a pretty voracious reader."
"Actually, I work here," she said, then added, for some reason, "I'm here late on Saturdays." She inwardly cringed. What are you telling him that for? Oh God, he must think you're a total airhead.
"I know," he said, smiling (and what a smile!). "I mean, I know that you work here. I've seen you at the reference desk, haven't I?"
"Yes," she replied, adding Wow! He did notice me! in her head.
"I come here quite a bit," he told her. "Academic books mostly. I'm studying English."
"I know," she said, echoing his response. "I noticed the kinds of books you've been borrowing." She couldn't believe it. She was actually having a conversation with him. Their eyes were locked together, making her knees feel weak. He was interested in her, that much she could tell. She hoped that she was giving him the same impression.
"It's dull stuff, eh?" he asked bashfully.
"No," she returned, almost forcefully.
"I think it sounds fascinating. I'm studying drama myself."
"Really? That's great. I wish I had the confidence to do something like that." He flashed her that diamond smile again.
"I don't function too well in front of a crowd." Amy smiled too. She felt strange, as though she was viewing the whole scene through someone else's eyes. It was exhilarating.
"Well," said Robert, "I should probably hit the books."
"Oh, right." Don't let him leave! Give him your number or something. Anything! Her heart began to feel as though it might explode. She couldn't think straight, and she was losing the brief window of opportunity.
He was starting to say something else: "It was nice "
"I'm here on Tuesdays, too," she said, her eyes wide with hopeful suggestion. "If you needed anything from reference, or . . . or maybe if you just wanted to talk . . ."
"I just might do that," he said, sealing their brief talk with another smile that made her melt. "See you later."
Then he was gone, and Amy had to go back to her seat before her legs gave way. Her head was rushing with reruns of the whole conversation, at varying speeds and a multitude of angles. She had done it! She had made first contact in perhaps the only way that it ever would have worked: accidentally. She had been flustered, but had done her best to leave him with no doubts as to how she felt. If he got her silent message, conveyed by the glimpse of her full breasts and the pulsing rhythm of her dilated pupils, then perhaps he would come straight to her on Tuesday and respond by asking her out.
There was a sweet song playing melodically inside her. She was warm all over, and couldn't suppress the playful smile that was carved into her lips. For the next hour or so she got some strange glances from others, not least from Mrs Burkitt, the bitchy head librarian. She was surely jealous to see that someone else had any reason to smile at all. She had never liked the younger members of the library staff, her belief being that young people were the cause of every problem in the world.
She'd been too old, and too Catholic, to enjoy the Sixties, and was eternally bitter at having missed out on Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll. Now she was determined to see that no other generation had fun of any kind. Amy didn't care. She ignored the old bat, and spent the rest of her afternoon locked in a series of more daydreams. But this time, those wishful images were accompanied by a wonderful sprinkling of possibility.
It was an hour before closing later that day. The sun had almost disappeared, tingeing the world with the shadow of a sepia twilight. The library was quiet. Only a few stragglers idly perused the shelves. Amy was engaged in putting away the few reference books that the inconsiderate always left lying around. She was still running on a slight high from her earlier success, as minor as it had been. All day she'd been thinking about Robert. Some of those thoughts had been quite racy, and more than once she'd blushed as she felt herself getting a little wet. She rarely wore any panties, and the sensation of her juices seeping warmly onto her thighs had been almost too much to bear.
She had been tempted to slip a hand under the desk and touch herself, stroking her bare pussy while people wandered back and forth before her, blissfully unaware. But she'd exercised restraint, choosing to wait until she got home that night so she could indulge in a good, long session, Robert's name on the tip of her tongue. She held up the last book, straining to reach its place. She was quite short, and even on the ladder she had to stand tiptoed to finally slot it in. As she did, she almost lost her footing, and felt herself falling back. She was braced for a harsh landing, but was stopped by a pair of hands grasping her waist.
"Thanks," she said, looking back to see who had caught her. Somehow, in that instant, she realized that she'd known who it would be. Robert was looking up at her, his cheeks slightly flushed. Only then did Amy understand why: from where he was, he had a pretty good view up her short summer dress. She climbed down a few steps until their faces were level, disappointed to feel that awful nervousness grip her once more.
"Hi " she began, already annoyed by how simpering she sounded. But Robert silenced her, putting a finger to her lips. The look in his eyes was hungry, sparking, alive. He had not come here to talk. As Amy reached this conclusion, she felt herself light up in response. She looked around, suddenly giddy with the risk of their surroundings. There could have been someone standing just on the other side of the tall bookcase in front of her, where the reference section met with 'psychology'.
They were in the quietest part of the library, but still close enough to the main section that any noise might arouse suspicion. She didn't care, though. The thought aroused her even more. She looked back to Robert as he grasped her hips again. She put one arm around his neck, the other stroking his face as she leaned forward. When they kissed, Amy felt the weight of three weeks worth of frustration suddenly lift. She closed her eyes and put her other arm around him, now pressing urgently to him with her body.
His hands went to the small of her back, roaming up and down. Their breathing was heavy, and they gripped each other tight, both lost in the dangerous, intense passion that only two total strangers can enjoy. Now his hands were moving lower, fondling her buttocks through the dress. She shifted her own hands down between them, groping with her buttons. Once released, she opened the thin, flowery material and bared her ample breasts to him. He needed no command, and quickly put his mouth there, sucking on her right nipple, flicking it with his tongue and nibbling gently with his teeth.
She gasped but quietly as he moved to her other breast, his mouth seeming to be everywhere at once. Meanwhile, his hands had now undone a few more buttons and pushed their way under her dress, one squeezing her bare butt, the other brushing softly against her inner thigh. He was teasing her, rubbing up and down her leg, getting so close to where she ached to be touched and fucked, then moving back down. He switched to the other thigh, making a similar slow journey. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. He was getting her so wet, and he knew it. She pulled his shirt open, ripping some of the buttons, and put her hands on his taut chest.
He was in pretty good shape, and she enjoyed feeling the ridge of muscles beneath his skin. They kissed again, tongues entwining, and at last he reached the folds of her dewy cunt. He rubbed her outer lips first, the heel of his hand pressing against the shroud of her clit. Then he spread her open and felt just how moist she was. As he explored her, she reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. She delighted to find that he wasn't wearing any underwear either. His bare cock was rigid, and she slowly felt its shape, noting that Robert had developed a tiny damp spot of his own. She moved her hips slightly forward and opened her legs, urging him to enter her. He read her mind, and she gasped as two fingers snaked inside and began to fuck her, making delicious sounds in the quiet around them.
She pulled his jeans down a little and took his stiff cock in her hand. She stroked it slowly, enjoying its size, then quickened her pace as Robert began to work his thumb against her swollen clit. It was incredible, the two of them masturbating each other right there in the public library. She knew that they could get caught any second. Mrs Burkitt could poke her malicious head around into the short corridor between bookcases and have a fit at what she saw: Amy, a member of her staff, jerking some guy off while his hand was way up her dress, her breasts hanging out like a common slut.
Instant dismissal, would likely result. Well, fuck her! Amy thought with an impish mental grin. What's life without a few risks? She felt herself getting close to the edge, and she began to grind her pelvis back and forth with even more fervour. Robert responded by sliding his fingers faster, in and out, his clit- play becoming more intense.
She closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck, still pumping his cock as the first divine spasms pulled her into orgasm. Her stomach tightened and her legs felt weak as she bucked against his hand, her moans and screams muffled against Robert's flesh. She came hard, her pussy drenching his fingers, her nipples brushing against his bare chest. When it was done, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked, relishing her taste on him. The look of dreamy pleasure in his eyes drove her wild.
She broke free of their animal embrace and dropped slowly to her knees. His cock was standing straight before her, and she looked up into his eyes as she slid her tongue along the underside of its length. She lingered on the ridge of his swollen head, making light flicks and kissing it gently. Then she took him in her mouth. She sucked only the head, her tongue now pressing firmly beneath, swishing back and forth.
Robert was panting, desperate not to come yet. With another glance into his intoxicated eyes, she plunged down and took in more of his throbbing shaft. With each slow descent she took in a little more, sucking hard as she withdrew. The slurping sounds would have been loud enough to attract any attention from someone close by. All part of the thrill, of course. When he could take no more, he held her arms and brought her back up, turning her to face the ladder. She held onto one rung and bent forward, pushing her ass toward him. He lifted her dress to her waist and exposed her shaven pussy.
She felt him rubbing his cock against it, wetting the tip and brushing her still sensitive clit. She felt minor spasms shock her with each slippery contact. She was aching to feel him inside her. Robert delayed no more, nudging his large dick at the entrance to her cunt. He took her hips in his hands and pushed forward, filling her tightly in one glorious thrust. Amy wanted to scream again, but keeping quiet was even more fun.
As Robert began to fuck her, firmly, steadily, she thought briefly again of Mrs Burkitt's disapproving looks, and almost wanted to laugh. Robert was touching the back of her neck, caressing her softly. His other hand had found her left breast and was pinching her nipple. She put her hand over his, wanting to feel him as he felt her. His cock was quite long and thick, and she was aware of every inch pushing and pulling inside her. How incredible that she had fantasized about him all day, and now here he was, this beautiful, passionate man, taking her from behind just as she'd dreamed. She never would have believed it could happen, and she never would have guessed that the reality would surpass the fantasy.
She vaguely pondered that none of her friends would believe it if she told them, so perhaps she would keep it all to herself. Now her mind was filled with other, more illicit contemplations, all of them heightened by the feel of Robert kissing her neck and nibbling her ear. This brief encounter of theirs was an erotic masterpiece in her mind.
She would think back on it many times in years to come, and it would never fail to get her hot in seconds. She could hear Robert gasping as that incredible itch of pleasure built within his loins. She knew he was close to the end, and she turned her head, her teal eyes locking directly onto his. Everything seemed to melt away with that contact. Words went unspoken between them, their bodies in perfect sync. Amy felt another orgasm building inside, almost as if Robert's had opened the floodgate within her. In that moment, they both felt as though they were joined by more than just sex.
With a moan (actually more a grunt) that could not be suppressed, Robert began to shoot his cum deep inside her. In response, Amy felt her body flood with liquid heat, this orgasm much more powerful than her first. She rocked her hips against him, meeting each short, sharp thrust of his jetting cock as her cunt gripped it tightly. She barely managed to bury her cries of lust, clamping her mouth to her forearm. The incredible wash of pleasure seemed as though it might never subside, until finally her body cooled, her breath slowed, and she became aware of the real world once again.
Robert was still inside her, his cock now soft and tired. He withdrew, breaking the spell of their bond, and she heard him frantically zipping up his jeans. "Someone's coming!" he told her in alarm. Amy snapped into action instantly. She straightened up and fumbled with the buttons of her dress, her fingers numb and disobedient. With the top ones done to a fairly respectable level, she worked at the bottom three, now hearing the soft pad of footsteps on the Library's carpeted floor. It was Mrs Burkitt. She knew it just from the pattern of her walk. She'd heard it a thousand times, creeping up on her to see that she was not slacking off or doing something she shouldn't. If she saw what had happened here, Amy would be looking for another job.
Suddenly, the risk was not quite as thrilling. She was close. She had zeroed in on the source of the noise that had no doubt summoned her. Robert's groan as he'd unloaded his seed had been too loud, and Amy herself had made a few whimpers and moans that might have slipped beyond their secluded spot. But it's hard to keep quiet when you're enjoying the best fuck of your whole life!
"Come on, hurry!" Robert urged her, just managing to fasten up his shirt. She couldn't get the last button in place. It was too late. She had only seconds before that stern, accusing face appeared around the corner. She had to act fast and act now. She turned slightly away from the direction of her approaching boss and grabbed at the first book that her anxious fingers fell upon. Behind her, a shadow came into view.
"Er . . ." Amy clumsily began, "so, I'm afraid this is really all we have on " she checked the title of the book " 'Natural remedies for PMS'."
She looked at Robert, who was caught between blind panic and hysterical laughter. Then she turned her head to Mrs Burkitt, feigning surprise. "Oh, hi," she said, raising her eyebrows in casually enquiry. Mrs Burkitt stared hard at them both, no doubt registering the flush in their cheeks and the sweat that made their hair cling to their foreheads.
Mercifully, she was at the wrong angle to see Amy's dress hanging open at the middle, her glistening thighs fully exposed. The suspicious old woman ran a tongue over the top row of her teeth, deciding her next move. With a low, almost inaudible rumble in her throat, she came to the conclusion that she had not seen enough to raise hell.
She looked Amy directly in the eye, freezing the girl on the spot. "Closing in five minutes," she said, now turning her brittle stare to Robert. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave, sir."
"Sorry," he replied, clearly as unnerved as Amy. "I hadn't realized just how late it was." He tried his winning smile, but it had no effect. Mrs Burkitt merely scowled back, her menacing expression saying: I may not have caught you this time, but you can make book that I will. She turned away and stormed back to the main desk. The two lovers breathed an almighty sigh of relief. Amy replaced the ill-chosen book. "My god," said Robert. "That was too close."
"Yeah," Amy agreed. "Next time, let's go someplace a little more private." Her eyes sparkled, reflected in his, and she was overjoyed to find that she no longer felt terrified by his presence. Robert removed a small white card form his pocket. On it, he'd written his name and phone number in neat script, edged by a few hearts. He'd actually taken his time making it look presentable, and she thought it was perhaps the sweetest thing she'd ever seen.
"I'm afraid I don't have a business card," he said apologetically.
"This is fine," she replied, smiling. "And I'll definitely use it."
"Great," he beamed. "I want you to know, this wasn't a casual thing for me. I mean, I don't usually act this way. I swear I came here to talk to you, but when I saw you, something else overtook me instead."
"I know the feeling," she said, wondering at the irony of how nervous she had been to talk to him, yet how easily she had opened herself to him sexually. Perhaps it was the lack of words and the self-conscious need to be charming that had made it so simple. The bare act of anonymous sex banished the pressure of social niceties. Whatever the case, it had done the trick.
"Well, I should go," he said, "before the Wicked Witch of the West over there has my head on a stake." He took her face in his hands and leaned down, kissing her long and deep. When their lips parted, she felt quite drunk. He gave her one last smile before turning to go.
"Robert," she called, saying his name for the first time. He looked back.
"My name is Amy."
He nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Amy." Then he disappeared from sight. Amy sauntered lightly over to her desk to collect her bag. As she placed the card inside, she knew she would be calling him that night. Such is the narcotic power of a new love.
|Click on the name for contact info and more works by Mark H.|