Archival

ONE

"I wonder if she has any idea...." Michael's thoughts trailed away as he glanced at his favorite librarian and then stared.

For two unemployed months Michael had been coming into the local small-town Carnegie library and following his usual routine. First he opened the heavy glazed wooden door and then tromped the accumulated snow from his heavy winter boots. Next he would carefully walk over the beige marble entry tiles, slippery with salty snow melt and ascend the stairs toward the main desk. At the desk Michael always smiled and asked for time on one of the open computers. Finally at the computer he logged onto his online email in dimming hopes of finding a response to the many queries for a local professional job. Day after day after day...week after long week...same routine...same results.

Two weeks ago Amanda had started working part time and had made a huge impression with Michael. Amanda was married and a Lutheran, not unusual for northern Minnesota. Amanda had thick shoulder-length blond hair and bright blue eyes that she shielded with her horn-rimmed glasses. She never said too much but always offered the friendliest smiles and the most thorough assistance. What Michael found to be the most remarkable about Amanda was that she always dressed like an anachronism in Victorian styles, an Edwardian refugee. Even her perfume held the fragrance of roses from a bygone era. In fact, once Michael had gotten to know her a little better it was patently obvious that she also conducted herself along Victorian lines. Amanda also spoke with a curious style that was as pleasantly charming as it was out of place.

Other library patrons could be seen smirking behind her back or even mocking her mannerisms as she rummaged through a book shelf for them. Women patrons, that is.

You see, Amanda had a stunning figure and made no attempt to hide her assets. She wasn't brazen by any means, heaven forbid!, but on her days to work always appeared poured into some antique looking something or other. She was obviously quite fit. Her breasts weren't huge but her cleavage was always on display in her properly low-cut blouse or skin-tight sweater.

Then there were days like today where Amanda was simply a vision from another time. She wore a mid-calf length black pinstriped pencil skirt that hugged every curve of her lower body and put her magnificent derriere on swaying display as she wiggled around on laced high-heeled boots, you know, the heels with the little platforms. Her pink turtleneck blouse started at her slim waist and stretched tightly over her upper torso. This particular ensemble somehow managed to make Amanda look feminine, prissy, and slutty...all at the same time. So, not only could you see her raised panty lines quite clearly but also the shape of her low-cut lacy brassier as it curved delicately over her breasts. While Amanda wiggled around the stacks with cart piled high with books and periodicals doing the morning sort of returned books you could soon sense the steam gradually beginning to rise from the ladies and the lust from the men. Understanding the cliquish conservatism of my hometown only too well I guessed that Amanda, unfortunately, wouldn't be a librarian here much longer.

As she bent over to place a book on the lowest shelf, my fingers froze at the keyboard and I held my breath wondering if her skirt might actually split from the pressure her wonderful ass exerted on the taut fabric. I'd swear you could have bounced a quarter off her ass. No such luck though and Amanda continued to push her cart through the Fiction stacks, wiggling, reaching, and stooping in a wonderful feminine rhythm of graceful rose-scented efficiency.

She eventually pushed her cart toward the Young Adult section and out of sight. Michael sighed and reluctantly returned to his seemingly fruitless digital chores of job seeking. When Amanda failed to reappear after some minutes he gathered his things and went home to do some work on a novel that he was working on. Through the day Michael wrote and wrote, stopping once to feed and pet his demanding cat and to eat a quick lunch. Late in the day an idea occurred to him that he thought might actually be better researched at the library then in the usual online searches. Dragging on his Columbia winter coat over his six foot frame and jamming a stocking cap over his blond hair he launched back out into the sub-zero cold.

Back at the library he quickly found the books he was interested in and settled into an overstuffed chair near the plate glass window and read and read. The sun went down and night fell and still he read on now oblivious to everything around him.

"Sir?"

He was immobile.

"Sir?"

"Hmmmm?" but he kept reading not even looking up.

A light touch on his shoulder.

"Sir..it's closing time and you're the last one here."

"Hmmm? OH! Damn! I'm SORRY!" And he bolted up from the chair.

But his legs were numb from the prolonged sit and Michael staggered into the lovely Amanda and knocked her down, her head hitting some books on a nearby shelf.

"Ohhh...." and she mumbled something in her strange accent.

Michael helped get her into an upright position but Amanda continued to mumble strange phrases and looked slightly vacant. She placed a tiny hand on his biceps and squeezed and smiled but continued her stunned monologue.

"Oh, sirrah. You mustn't...we mustn't. I'm a constable's wife and you...you...are a vagabond." she said quite distinctly now.

Michael snapped his fingers while looking into eyes that finally began to focus.

"Amanda?...Amanda?"

"You simply mustn't pull up my petticoats where everyone can see us. Stop at once(Oh, but he doesn't know that I am simply dripping! Tee hee hee!)!" Amanda said out loud but then focused sharply on Michael's masculine features and blushed hotly, now acutely aware of her position and what she had just been saying.

When she slowly extended her hand Michael managed to help her stand.

"Amanda, maybe you should sit for awhile, just long enough to be sure you are ok. You were really out of it for a minute there and I am so sorry!"

"It's nothing, sir. I'm sure I am quite alright." she said but sat anyway.

"May I?" he asked and gestured at her head.

"I'm sure I'm fine." but she inclined the top of her head toward him anyway.

Michael just looked at first and then carefully examined her scalp under the platinum blond tresses, even now secretly enjoying the clean scent and silky texture of Amanda's young mane.

"I don't see any blood or swelling, Amanda, but I'm still concerned. You were speaking things...things...(here they both blushed) that weren't like you."

"That's what my husband often says when I get out of sorts with him!" she laughed. "But I think I am quite well enough now."

The librarian stood up and began to make her way back toward the main desk. As she walked he noticed a tear that exposed some of the flesh of her bottom and the elastic top of the frilliest of hot-pink panties.

Michael watched her for a few seconds, entranced by such a delicious swaying ass, but then quickly grabbed his stuff and followed after her pulling his parka on as he went. Near the desk Amanda seemed to stumble for the briefest moment but then caught herself.

"That does it! You are not OK. I think you need to see a doctor and, possibly, a tailor."

"Nonsense, sirrah. A tailor? (She touched her exposed skin) And you...you...vagabond...How DARE you approach a stately woman of this town with such bold talk. I will not lift my petticoats like some silly strumpet and let you have your way! How naughty! Begone!" rambled Amanda, again looking at Michael with an unfocused vacant stare but then snapped out of it again just as quickly, blushing furiously, which made her look absolutely delectable to Michael.

"Now...I'm the one who is sorry, sir!"

"Please call me Michael and allow me to take you home or at least allow me to please call your husband so he can take you to the ER."

"Hahaha! Oh, that's rich, Michael. He wouldn't spend all that money and take me to the ER. He is much too busy, always, and that's just not his style. No, I must fend for myself. Besides, I'm fine now...just a little woozy is all."and she gathered the keys and started locking the row of cabinets behind her sexy form.

"Can I at least help you lock up and then follow you home...you know...just to be sure that you are safe."

The librarian cast a long glance his way and then slightly nodded.

"Thanks! I just want to be sure and, besides, I have never locked up a library.

"Not much too it. Shall we?"

"I also want to buy you a new skirt, Amanda, that's the least I can do. Your fall was entirely my fault." he said.

"No, I think that I startled you first."

"Still..."

Their little byplay made the librarian blush once again and try to cover her rolling bottom with the fist full of mismatched keys that began jingling with each stride succeeding only in extending the tear and exposing more of her pink panties.

"Damn!"and they both laughed then.

Still laughing Amanda carefully maneuvered the whitish stone-flecked terrazzo stairs to the front door and back up and then also locked the back door.

"What are you researching, Mike?...Michael?..."

"Hmmm...?" Now it was his turn to blush since she had just caught him staring at her torn skirt.

"I...I'm...Victorians!...and their cultural morays...for a novel I'm writing."

"How intriguing! I simply LOVE the Victorian/Edwardian era. New World or continental?"

"Hmmm...?" his eyes had strayed back to her wonderful figure as they walked around the final stacks.

"Hahahaha! Sirrah! Up here please."and she drew a slender finger teasingly along her hip, past the still widening tear, up over her breasts, to her cornflower blue eyes. "If you insist on seeing my dainty pantaloons you must simply help me with the door to the boudoir."

Amanda had shifted once again into some other time, some other person. Michael saw that she was gesturing at the lock on the Historical Archive room. He stepped past her feeling the briefest of touch from a pointed breast on his arm. Suddenly, acutely aware of their being all alone in the library he jiggled the handle.

"It's locked, Amanda."

"Amanda? My name is Jennifer and how dare you be so casual in public with a lady, sirrah! Besides I want your help opening the door and not just jiggling the latch." and she inserted a queer looking key, an ancient engraved and cloisonned skeleton key, into the lock. But then she just stood there, slightly bent over, holding her hand in place.

"Please? Thought you might want to look closer at our store of Victorian materials." and she looked her blue eyes deep into his soul causing an immediate profound erection.

Michael now was the one to feel confused. Was this Amanda or Jennifer? And that key looked like it belonged in a museum. As he bent over her to grasp the hand holding the key she moved slightly and pressed her bottom firmly against his middle and then smirked at him with a long, lingering leer.

They both turned the key in the lock of the carefully lettered smoky glass door. The librarian pressed lightly on the door. As it swung open Michael heard and then felt an odd buzzing that penetrated to his bones and there was a releasing of a puff of air that smelled ancient as a tomb. This time it was Michael's turn to stagger and he caught himself on the door frame as the librarian quickly entered the shadowy room.

"Please turn the light on, sirrah. It wouldn't be proper for us to be alone together in the darkness of a lady's boudoir."

"Sirrah? Sirrah? Boudoir? Isn't this an odd game." he thought to himself but obeyed her wish and stayed in the doorway trying to find the hidden light switch.

Michael heard a rustling of fabric and silk followed closely with a new scent of...of..cigarette smoke...in a library?

"What the fuck?" and he moved into the room and immediately ran into a partition.

TWO

He sat down on a soft little velvety hassock feeling very confused and a little heady. Unbeknownst to him the door silently closed behind him and silenced the strange palpable buzzing. Michael let his eyes adjust to the dim light and then noticed a yellow flame flickering through the narrow vertical joint of the hinged panel in front of him.

"Amanda? Amanda?"

No answer.

A shadow crossed his fragmented vision and he looked closer into the room.

"Huuuhhhh....?" he gasped as he focused on the nude librarian.

Nearly naked is more like since Amanda was now "dressed" in only a thin silk French-cut silvery panty (but...they were pink!?) and was seated at a mirrored table, a beautiful table of highly polished cherry wood, calmly smoking a cigarette in a long black holder. Too flummoxed to even speak Michael could only stare at this vision in front of him and wonder what the hell was going on.

Amanda continued to smoke letting the thin white rivulets of smoke curl over her upper lip, past her slim nose, and then filter delicately through her long platinum curls, finally disappearing in fading ghostly wisps into the still air of the room. Amanda drew a lovely knee up to her chin and rested a tiny foot on the red velvet seat of her black enameled chair.

Slowly, ever so slowly she turned her lovely face until she was looking directly at the hidden man behind her 12th century embroidered Japanese Samurai screen and smiled the faint smile of Mona Lisa. The librarian placed the cigarette on the pink sculpted shell of an ashtray and then reached for her nail polish and brush. She quickly flexed her leg muscles and then slicked her panties completely off, well almost, while directing her gaze toward the still silent library patron. She deliberately allowed her panties to drape over her left ankle. Amanda's pubic bush was as platinum as her head and she nudged her heel in tight against her thick bush and then dipped the slim camel-hair bristles into the polish and began to paint in long precise languorous strokes, first one toenail then another.

"Amanda? Jennifer? What...." but, in languid response, her fingers only paused slightly and an index finger moved to her pursed lips in the librarians' eternal symbol for silence.

The eroticism of the scene was not lost on Michael who was no stranger to Victorian literature and customs or a sensual women's charms. When Amanda finished with one foot and replaced it with the other Michael became hypnotized in the moment. Amanda's kinky silvery-blond pubic hair curled around the heel pressed in close and cast the faintest of shadows from the flickering oil lamp on her table. His erection turned to steel and he leaned in even closer in the classic voyeuristic pose and peered sharply. He released his throbbing cock and began to slowly stroke and squeeze the aching shaft as she progressed through her Victorian toilet.

The librarian stopped painting her nails in midstroke and picked up her smoldering cigarette. Sucking on the thin long stem she cast a delicate smile Michael's way inhaling a thick puff of smoke deep into her lungs, exhaling in simple pleasure, feeling the sudden surge of nicotine quicken her heart, and senses.

Then, with a fixed gaze at her hidden patron/suitor, she moved the slenderest of her fingers to her wet labial opening hidden by the blond curls. Amanda wiggled and poked then exhaled a deep sigh of happiness and thin smoke as the finger found its feminine mark. Deeper and deeper she pressed and quicker and quicker Michael stroked.

"Damn!" whispered a very confused Michael.

She only smiled and pressed deepest before starting a quick in and out rhythm of timeless self pleasure. Her fucking fingers were mostly hidden by the pressing heel, but even though, first the sight of her glistening cunt juices and then the siren call of her scent reached Michael behind that ancient embroidered screen. She sighed again and quickened her pace arching her smooth back against the delicious pressure. Again, the delicacies of this moment were not lost on this cultured patron. The embroidered Samurai history marched across the vertical teak-wood bordered panels in violent and colorful public slaughter of unsheathed tempered katanas in sharp contrast to the exquisite naked female form of a stunning Victorian female in the full blush of her erotic prime secretly pleasuring herself for her hidden male admirer during her toilet, masturbating openly by a heady bloom of fragrant pink chrysanthemums.

"Damn!" again was all the thrilled voyeur could manage in praise.

The librarian stopped just short of a final release panting slightly and lightly sweating. She took one final drag on her ensconced cigarette, pulled the butt from the holder, and carefully ground it out in the enameled shell. She stood up and moved to the window. At the window she drew aside the lemony laced chintz and let the sun(Sun? What the fuck?) shine in in all it's glory, illuminating her profiled naked self in a golden halo of light for her voyeur's additional torment.

"Damn!" Michael stroked harder now, panting, knowing that there was no way in hell that the sun should be up right now but was presently beyond caring.

The librarian arched first one blond eyebrow and then the other and moved sinuously back through the room. She approached a tall cherry dresser that looked like a sculpted 17th century French piece, full of shallow drawers with golden inlays. She opened an upper drawer and rummaged briefly inside before selecting a fresh pair of silken panties. She turned her athletic back to the archaic Asian screen exhibiting her bulbous breasts and swollen elongated nipples in swaying profile in the golden light. The librarian anointed the panties with a drop of perfume from her table and wrapped them around her hand. Then she moved toward the screen in a sensual strut of rolling hips, caressing and tossing her thick platinum mane in the warm sunlight of a bygone era.

She again pressed her index finger to her lips and then tossed the panties over the top of the screen where they proceeded to land directly on top of Michael's head. With another deliberate gaze Amanda/Jennifer turned slowly holding his hidden peering eye and then bent at the waist facing the window, presenting her pink blossoming cunt in erotic closeup. Then, the librarian backed up, closer still, to the Samurai screen pressing her feminine flesh in tight. And, as if that wasn't enough, the sensual librarian then reached through her legs and opened the swollen delicate petals of her secret place...wide. This blatant invitation was not lost on the confused patron and Michael quickly stood, carefully guiding his seeking member through the ancient dressing screen's gap, and plunged into her wet slippery grip.

THREE

"What the hell?"Michael gasped as the room suddenly started to change.

The room pulsed and then morphed into dark shadows of a velvety gray. The buzzing they had experienced on entry into the Historical Archive returned, with a vengeance. As the room, momentarily, faded from view all that he was aware of was the incessant buzzing and the focused decadent pleasure of his thick cock buried deeply in a naked married woman's willing eager pussy. The brooding grays turned to fiery reds and then melting golds before, finally, exploding in spiraling surreal swirling fractals of pixilated light.

Aware that the hot wetness of the librarian's aroused flesh had become his only anchor in his perceived reality Michael looked down and saw that his cock was buried to the hilt in her pussy. The sensual inverted "v" of her ass and soft upper thighs framed their exquisite connection. Slowly the buzzing began to fade and the chaotic psychedelic patterns of the erupting dream condensed and slowed to golds, reds, and deep grays around the mated pair. Michael felt the liquid heat of the librarian's cunt radiant through his steely embedded cock.