Diamond in the Rough Pt. 01

Anna was more beautiful than she knew. The unremarkable woman she saw staring back at her in the bathroom mirror every morning couldn't compare to the pretty girl Paul saw every time he walked into the Brookwood Library. Yet they were the same person.

Anna was a little on the short side, 5'2" in socks, and only barely more in the flats she favored. Her hair was medium brown, medium length, hanging just above her shoulders in kind of a bob. Her face didn't have any truly outstanding or unusual features: a regular nose (that she hated), brown eyes (that she wished were green), and lips that were neither too thin, nor too plump. All her features, hair, nose, eyes, lips, were set on a face that was neither too long nor too short, not too thin or too wide, not hideous, she would admit to herself, but nothing whatsoever to make her stand out in her peer group of Librarians. Certainly there was not much to make a man look twice at her, she thought, if any decently eligible man bothered to look at her at all. She wasn't particularly witty. She didn't have much artistic or musical talent. She felt completely and totally unremarkable, the personification of average, except shorter and better read.

But that's not what Paul saw. Paul saw a woman who absolutely radiated kindness and goodness. It showed through in the way she treated everyone, even the rude teens and the homeless addicts just looking for a warm place out of the rain. Her calm and caring voice seemed to melt and sooth him to the core. Her smile seemed so genuine, never forced. Adorably, thought Paul, she had more freckles on her nose and under her eyes than you usually see on a woman in her early thirties (Paul guessed). She wasn't tall, but Paul was only average height himself. He liked petite. He saw a woman whose features were perfect, everything symmetrical with no facial flaws. Paul had been keeping an eye on her for a couple of months now, and he was pretty sure she had a fairly nice body too, even if she did tend to cover it up with loose-fitting clothing. He'd seen it catch in all the right places when she reached for the top shelf, or bent over for the bottom.

Paul had never spoken to Anna. He came to the Library on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, and Sundays during the day. In theory, he was researching and working on his book, but he only went to the library during the days and times Anna worked. Most of the time he sat there he spent dreaming idly about her, unable to focus on the tasks he'd set for himself.

Anna had noticed Paul. His hair was brown, more wavy than curly, usually somewhat mussed or shaggy, medium length. He typically appeared deep in thought, not particularly focusing on anything, even though he always had a book open or sat in front of a computer terminal. She would guess he was around forty, give or take. He was neither particularly thin nor fat, nor short nor tall. Every day he wore jeans and the same oversize heavy blue cloth jacket, with a different collared shirt underneath. He seemed to be there on the evenings she worked, and on Sundays too, although not when she worked Mondays and Tuesdays during the day. She thought maybe...maybe...she'd caught him looking at her a couple of times, but he always looked away. So far at least, he'd never said one word to her. He looked like he knew his way around a library, and probably didn't need or want any help.

Until last fall, Anna had lived with her mother, in a small bungalow in a quiet, older neighborhood only 15 blocks from where she worked. Anna liked the way the large, mature Oak and Elm trees on either side of her street had grown so large that their branches almost met high above the center, beautiful and stark, almost cathedral-like in the winter, plenty of shade in the summer. The bare branches all around and above her on her walk home had suited her mood very much this past winter. Her mother had passed in November, succumbing at last to a long, excruciatingly long, slow battle with ALS. Mom had been Anna's life, and her hobby, and her obligation for the last 10 years. This was the first spring she'd been "free" since she was 23, and graduating from Library School. Anna was finally free, and she felt lost.

Paul had freedom of a different sort. He had never been married, never had children. He had a brother who lived about three hours away whom he had little in common with. They got along fine but rarely saw each other. Six years ago their parents had died in an automobile accident. Catastrophic mechanical failure had led to the car losing control at 70mph going over a bridge. They were killed instantly when they hit the water. Paul and his brother had sued, and after 3 years of wrangling, they settled with the insurance company. The settlement was enough, that Paul didn't actually need to work anymore. He was set up for life as long as he lived fairly modestly. So he'd decided to try and make himself into a writer like he'd dreamed of when he was in college. Only now, at forty years old and with nothing but time, Paul found it seemed like he didn't have anything to say. He volunteered six hours a day, Monday-Friday at the local soup kitchen, mostly out of a sense of guilt, and feeling like he needed to give back. But volunteering, at least so far, had failed to provide him with literary inspiration.

As he sat and pondered one fresh, lovely spring day, looking out the library window at the flowering shrubs beginning to bloom, a couple with their backs turned to him held hands at the bus stop out by the street. It occurred to Paul that the only thing in his drab existence that seemed to provide him with even the slightest inspiration at all, was the subtle, serene and perfect loveliness of Anna, his Librarian muse. That's when it hit him. His life needed purpose. Why not make her his purpose, get her to notice him, get her to like him, charm her, win her over, seduce her, ravish her, make her fall passionately and deeply in love with him, and then...well maybe by then he'd love her too? Or maybe by then he would at least have a story to tell.

But a real woman does not bend herself to a man's will as readily as letters on a page. Paul's plan started to go not quite according to plan almost from the start.

After arriving at his new life's purpose, Paul spent the next three days trying to figure out a "meet cute" scenario he could arrange for Anna and himself. He came up with ideas, but rejected all of them. He found a list of ideas that he wanted to think over in a book. There were too many to copy, so he took the book over to the copy machine and tried to access it, but he seemed to be having trouble getting the machine to read his card to pay for the copies.

"Can I help you?" A voice behind him interrupted his train of thought and growing frustration, Was it? He turned toward the voice and there she was. It was Anna.

"Oh! Um...oh...oh...I just...it's just that I was having some trouble getting this machine to read my card."

"It does that sometimes. You have to line it up just right. Do you mind?" She stepped forward and held out her hand to take the card from Paul, who quickly surrendered it.

"No. Be my guest..." Anna took the card (without touching his hand) and quickly positioned it in the reader and hit the button. The machine whirred to life.

"There. That ought to do it," she said, handing the card back to him. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No." Paul said. "Thank you. You've been very helpful."

"Thank you for using the Library today!" She turned and walked over toward a nearby group of teens who were talking a little louder than they should.

Crap, thought Paul. That was...not exactly what I was hoping for. Not a disaster, but hardly a RomCom 'meet cute.' They hadn't even exchanged any meaningful eye contact, there'd been a little, but it was all perfectly ordinary, nothing special. He glanced down at the copy machine to finish what he'd begun before. Shit! The title of the book was clearly visible sitting on top of the copy machine, and certainly she'd seen it. It was "1001 Sure-fire Conversation Starters for Impressing Women and Girls."

Anna had seen the book, but of course she didn't say anything. Rule #1 of working in a Library is never to comment on the materials a patron is reading, or viewing. Patrons could even look at porn on the computers as long as they weren't masturbating or viewing it where it could offend others. Anna knew they had "regulars" waiting when the doors opened each morning to get to the computers in the corner and do exactly that. Paul (she'd seen the name on his card) didn't seem to be one of the porn guys but she did wonder why an apparently normal-looking 40ish man was copying a page from a book she would normally associate with hapless younger men.

Anna felt just a twinge of disappointment. He was nicer-looking up close than he'd seemed from across the room. The thought had crossed her mind that maybe...Oh well. Just another borderline weirdo. At least she didn't have to waste any more time or thought going down that road.

Paul returned to his chair and pondered his next move. He felt the possibilities narrowing. Cleverness was failing him. His window of opportunity, this window at least, was closing. He sensed desperation creeping in, and anxiety always made him feel like he needed to act to help drive it away. Do something! But what? Just go up and ask her out. Just like that? Yes, just like that. Direct might work...and if it didn't...well, nothing really lost anyway. His chances felt like they were circling the drain as it is. But what would he say? How would he do it? No time to worry about that, man! Just get up and do it. Say the first thing that comes into your head. Nothing to lose, and so Paul got up from his chair, and walked over to the desk Anna was now standing behind..

"Excuse me, Miss."

"Yes?"

"I was just sitting over there and I had kind of a crazy idea. You see, I don't normally do this kind of thing, just walk up to strangers, but I'm a writer. I'm doing research for my next book, and I thought it could be really valuable to get the perspective of a Librarian, someone who knows books really well. My name's Paul, by the way." Paul stuck out his hand.

Anna gave Paul's hand an appropriately businesslike shake. "Pleased to meet you, Paul. I'm Anna." She was slightly taken aback, surprised, wary, but interested enough to give him at least a couple of seconds more before she figured out a way to politely shut him down, all while maintaining professional demeanor, of course. No need to cross that line. "What sort of book are you writing, if I might ask?"

"It's a novel about a middle-aged man's spiritual search for self. Not spiritual in the religious sense, more a latent journey of reflection and self-discovery, affected of course by the people he meets along the way."

"Hmmmmmm...and what is it that you think a Librarian might add?" Anna didn't want to get too far into this, but she could spare at least this much, especially since no other patrons seemed to be needing her attention at just this minute.

"You see such a wide variety of people every day, and you also know books, and might be able to give me a little insight, help me to catch any blind spots that I might be missing."

"We have a writer's group that meets here Sundays at 10am. That might be great for you."

"I don't want to talk to other writers. I've tried that and, although they usually mean well, they're too wrapped up in their own ideas, and their own thoughts about writing, to really get into the proper head space where they can sincerely help another writer. I just had a crazy inspiration over there that it was you. That you might have the perfect unique perspective I need."

"Paul, I really don't think..."

"Could I just buy you coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea then. Tea or even lunch. Right over in that cafe across the street. Somewhere perfectly public and safe. I promise I'm not a 'masher'. What time do you take lunch? It's..." Paul looked at his wrist, then realizing he wasn't wearing a watch, quickly scanned the wall and luckily found a clock, "...11:45 right now. Let me buy you lunch." He searched her eyes. He sensed hesitation. She just might go for it. "Please?...pretty please with sugar on it?" That last part was kind of jokey, flirty even, kinda stupid, but he'd felt like going for it.

"Let me think about it, OK?" Anna was a little bit tempted. Even though she didn't know this guy. She couldn't remember the last time anybody had asked her out. It might have been three years ago! And probably at least a year before that since she'd actually gone out on a date, and that had ended badly. Besides, this wasn't really a date. She could sense that it might take that turn, but maybe he did have some crazy desire for a Librarian's perspective. That's what he'd said. Maybe that was the truth. And truth be told, she had read a lot of books, and she did have opinions about how authors portrayed things and the choices they made. He said he wasn't a "masher," which was kind of a funny-uncommon word to use, and a word that she liked in that context. It made him seem somehow less threatening. But still, she didn't know this guy, and the book he had at the copy machine had been a bad sign. Getting out of the situation by being noncommittal seemed like a good non-confrontational way to maybe escape him for good.

"Sure. Think it over. I'll be right over there at least until 2:00." Paul walked back to his seat.

Over the next hour, every time she looked his way, except for a couple of times when he appeared to be concentrating on his book, or the computer screen in front of him, and so didn't really see her, he gave her a polite smile, a polite, relaxed, friendly smile, not a "hey baby!" smile or the slightly off smile of someone who seemed dangerous. She couldn't help it. The thought gnawed at her. What have I got to lose?...At least I'll get a free lunch out of it. She'd be safe in the cafe. The cold tuna sandwich waiting for her in the staff refrigerator would still be OK tomorrow. You never know, he might even turn out to be really interesting!

Anna walked over to the other side of the table where Paul was sitting and leaned in slightly so as not to speak too loudly. "OK. You're on," she said. "I've got lunch in 10 minutes." She gave him a slight smile, careful not to make it the kind of encouraging smile she'd give if it was a date, in case those weren't his intentions at all, even if over the last hour of thinking it over she'd been hoping more and more that it would turn out that way. She was even feeling a few butterflies in her stomach, the good kind, not fear, but hope.

*************

The date that was not a date, ended up feeling, when it was over, more like a date. Both Paul and Anna felt the same. They'd lost track of time and Anna was 15 minutes late coming back from her lunch. Paul asked if he could buy her dinner too. Anna accepted, but deferred it until the next day, just so as not to seem too eager or too available.

But secretly, and she worried it was not so secretly because she felt like her coworkers had noticed a change in her, Anna was overjoyed! She hadn't been on a date in probably 4 years, and hadn't been on a good date since, well really since forever.

At 33 years old, Anna was a virgin. She'd had a high school boyfriend, Brian, whom she was with from sophomore year all the way into college. They'd tried to keep it going long distance as they went to different schools, but junior year in college he'd found someone else, a girl who had given him the sex that Anna had never been able to give. She had felt bad about it. Brian had been so sweet and so patient with her. He was the only person on earth that knew her secret, that her stepdad had abused her when she was twelve. She and Brian had made out. She'd let him feel up her tits, and even finger her some, but that had triggered too many painful memories. She had never been able to relax or feel comfortable enough with him to do anything more that involved her pleasure. She never came close to having an orgasm with him. She gave him handjobs-a lot of handjobs- even let him cum on her bare tits two times, but they never did oral, and they never had intercourse.

She didn't blame Brian, really. There was only so much the poor guy could take. He deserved a normal relationship with a girl who would do the things most girls did, and who wanted to do them and who enjoyed doing them with him. She just wasn't that girl, not then. She just wasn't ready. Brian respected that, he just couldn't wait any longer, especially without knowing that she'd ever be ready. He stuck with her for more than four years. He was very sweet to her. He tried to be kind and understanding. She just couldn't get there.

Now, though, Anna somehow knew that she was ready. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she felt confident she was finally ready. Her mom was gone. It had been twelve years since Brian. The first two years were spent sort of getting over him, and finishing school, and then getting started in a career, then the last eight years she'd spent mostly taking care of her mom. A lot had changed. She was older. She felt more secure in herself. Most memories of the abuse had faded, and those that hadn't faded she'd tried to lock away. While she was in her last year of school she did finally go to therapy, and although at the time she hadn't felt like it helped her, she could see now that therapy, and the books she'd read, had planted the seeds that helped her to heal herself.

Anna still had life left to live! She didn't want a future alone with only her books. She wanted a man, maybe even a family, and to get it right, to at least make a happier family than the broken one she'd grown up in. A husband, maybe someday children, grandchildren, all that sounded pretty good. But first she'd have to get a man. He had to be the right kind of man. She wasn't going to settle for just anyone.

She knew she'd have to be realistic. Prince Charming or Brad Pitt wasn't going to come breaking down her door. But for the first time in a very very long time Anna felt like it was possible for her. She was older and more secure in herself, and sex didn't seem so frightening anymore, or traumatic. She was confident she could put all that behind her. There might be a few bumps, it would probably be a little bit rocky getting started, but she was eager, eager to get a taste of what she'd been missing.

Romance? Of course she was eager for romance. But she was worried that any man she would meet, especially at this age, would have so much over her in sexual experience that she couldn't meet him as an equal. For a long term relationship, she wanted to be on equal footing, and that meant she was going to have to get some sexual experience first. She was especially eager for that too. Eager to have her pussy licked! Eager to suck cock even! Eager to fuck! Slowly, she'd been preparing herself, building up to it. Two months before, Anna had gotten a prescription for birth control pills, and started taking them.

More than anything else, it was probably the books that had given fuel to Anna's fantasy life. Sure, she and mom had watched movies, including romantic ones, and movies with fairly racy sex scenes, but she found it was the actions and characters in her books that really came alive for her, that really reached inside her. It seemed like books taught her what it would feel like to be with a man, not that anything could substitute for the real thing of course, but she found movies only showed her what it might look like. Books had made it more real in her imagination.

At first, books had merely fueled her fantasies, but allowing herself to fantasize had been the first step on her progression to wellness. She still remembered how frightened she'd been walking into that sex shop to buy her vibrator. She'd had to do it when she was away from home at a conference out of fear that if she'd gone to one of the two such shops in her town somebody she knew might recognize her. And mail order had been out of the question. Mom took an interest in every package that arrived. "Vinny,' as she called him, had been her increasingly regular and reliable companion who lived in her nightstand, and came out to play at least twice a week. Vinny had taken her virginity, at least the breaking of her hymen part. Once Anna even told someone she had a boyfriend named "Vinny." It was her little private joke with herself.