Another of my in-between pieces, smut, but with a plot.

Please vote or comment if you liked it. I do love to hear from my readers.

I step up to the front desk of the small college library. It's late in the evening and the place is nearly empty, so there is only one librarian here. Her back to me so I have plenty of time to examine her.

She's dressed in a dark grey ensemble, a jacket with square shoulders and a knee length skirt. That skirt is drawn tight around the lush curves of her ass. Below the hem her calves, nicely shaped and firm, are covered with smoke coloured hosiery. Her feet are in low heeled, black shoes. Raven coloured hair is done up in a rather severe and large bun.

However I do notice one thing. Seams running up the back of her stockings. I find that somewhat out of tune with the rest of her garb.

I clear my throat with an "Ahem".

She starts up from the cart of returned books she was examining and turns to me. The buttoned collar and small amount of a white blouse peek above the lapels of her jacket. This doesn't entirely hide the full breasts she has. Her face is fair skinned, a little on the thin side and quite pleasant to look at. Narrow, wire framed glasses sit on her elegant nose. Behind the lenses, her eyes are wide and lake blue.

"She wouldn't look entirely out of place as a spinster schoolmarm in a Western," I think. But I pick up something in her eyes, a touch of fire, that hints at more.

"Can I help you?" is the question that comes from her. She doesn't smile, her lips and face show little emotion.

"I'm looking for a book," I tell her.

"Which book?" is her next query. One of her dark, slim eyebrows rises. I see her gaze run over me.

It's not surprising she would wonder. I don't look like the type of person who would be reading a book. I'm several inches taller than her. My build is wide and solid. I spend a fair bit of time to maintain that solidity. It can't be taken for granted at my age. My hair is long and grey, pulled into a ponytail at the back. Although kept well trimmed, my beard is full and as grey as all my other hair. It covers a face best described as 'craggy'. I'm wearing a black leather jacket that's open to reveal the white T-shirt underneath. 'NO PRISONERS!' is the logo it sports. The parts of me she can't see are encased in black jeans and infantry boots.

I remain silent through her short inspection. Her eyes return to mine. There is a slight glisten in them now. The tip of her tongue pokes out for a moment.

"The Story of O," is the answer I finally give her.

I can see the material of her jacket tighten as she draws a sudden breath. Her eyes blink and a faint blush come to her cheeks.

"May I ask what you want it for?" Her voice is subdued, with a hint of curiousity in it.

"No, you may not," I reply. My face goes a little stiff. I'm not fond of people I don't know poking into my business.

The flush in her cheeks grows brighter. Her gaze lowers from mine and she looks at her hands as she brings them up, wrings them together. "I'm sorry. You're quite right."

I smile and reply, "Not a problem." My quick anger has passed, partly because of her prompt apology. And partly because of the hints of her personality that her ready atonement and body language give me.

The beautiful lady raises her eyes back to mine. Her expression is that blank that she first showed me, but I notice the colour hasn't entirely faded from her face. "This way," she tells me. Stepping from behind the counter, she leads me into the fiction section of the library.

I trail behind, watching her. In spite of the distinctly unflattering clothes she wears, her cheeks roll as she walks. A wicked grin pastes itself on my face. I imagine what it would be like, my hands around those lovely muscles, pulling her onto my cock. At that thought I begin to harden. The vision is very clear and very hot.

She never looks at me through our short trip. Her steps are swift. She seems to be hurrying. When we come to the desired bookshelf she turns to it, reaches for my request and pulls it out. Without taking her eyes from the rows of books she heads back the way she came.

Since the stuffy woman wasn't watching where she was going her first step causes her to bump into me. Her faces snaps towards mine.

I smile at her. The feel of her breasts pressed against me is marvelous.

Her jaw goes slack for a moment. She jerks a step back. Her eyes can't seem to escape my gaze. A gulp moves her throat.

I reach out my hand for the book.

This snaps her out of her fugue. She gives the small paperback to me, then steps around and walks briskly back the way we came.

I catch up to and stride beside her. I've decided to make a project out of the lovely and inhibited lady next to me. I'm catching intimations that there is a great deal more to her than her priggish exterior. "How to go about it?" is the question I ask myself.

"I need the book for a criticism of literature course I'm taking here," I tell her.

Her head swivels towards me. There is a slight lifting of her eyebrows, betraying her curiousity.

Going on I say, "I believe I'll write better myself if I know how to critique my work properly."

Her head sways away from me a little, confusion grows on her face. It's a common reaction. I know I don't look like an authour. "What do you write?" she asks me.

I hold up the book in my hands to answer her query.

Her head snaps forward and her lips thin. Wrinkling her nose, she slits her eyes. A tiny grunt of disgust passes through her nostrils. That's a frequent reaction to my profession as well.

As if I didn't notice I continue talking. "I picked this book because a lot of people in my line of work regard it as indecent. They don't know it takes the same skills to write this as any other literary work. Plus I like shocking people."

"I'd noticed," is her tight voiced observation.

I can't help but grin at that.

"I'm Adam Carson. Don't worry if you've never heard of me."

She doesn't reply.

"What's your name?" I assay.

"Ms. Nevis," the frowning lady informs me.

"What's your first name?" I go on.


"What a lovely name. A pleasure to meet you, Corrine."

Her head turns back towards me, the ends of her mouth tugging upward. They pull down again and she faces front once more.

We arrive at the checkout counter and she begins the process of signing the book out. While she does that, I pull my idea notebook from a jacket pocket. Tearing a page loose I scribble some information on it.

"What's that?" she queries.

"A lot of my work is available on a website," I tell her. "This is its address and the user name I publish under." Finished, I fold the page in half, reach over and slide it into the pocket on the front chest of her jacket. I don't make a show of it but for an instant the firm warmth of her left breast presses against my fingers.

Corrine's eyes widen. Again I can see her throat work as she swallows.

Smiling, I take my book from her hand. "Nice meeting you, Corrine."

There's no reply. She just blinks repeatedly.

Turning away, I head out of the library. At the door, I look back and give her a friendly wave. She hasn't moved at all.

Going out into the night I think to myself, "This is going to be fun."


It's a week later and I've returned to the library to continue my project. As I enter I see Corrine is here.

Like last week she's behind the counter, her back to me. The only difference is the unflattering suit she wears is navy blue. As I stop I notice she's wearing the seamed stockings again, and heels this time. Not high ones, but they are lovely.

I announce my presence with, "Good evening, Corrine."

She turns towards me with a jerk. Her eyes and mouth are wide. There is a quick flash of light, almost too quick to be noticed. The spinster returns as her features return to their standard prissy expression.

"Good evening, Mr. Carson," she greets. "Can I help you?"

"Adam, please." I lay the book I borrowed last week behind the barrier that rises from the surface of the counter. "I also need another one."

Corrine picks up the book and takes it to the returned cart. "Which one?" she asks.

"Fanny Hill," I tell her.

The prim woman gives a little jerk. She pauses for a moment, then places her cargo where it belongs. Turning, she heads off with me in trail.

"How was your essay received?" she asks me as we walk. Her voice carries a touch of actual interest.

"Very well. Thank you for asking," I reply.

Indeed it had just the reaction I hoped for, and a little extra. My class is almost entirely young women my daughter's age. Several possess that odd form of prudishness mistaken for feminism. They were shocked, very shocked, at the piece I deconstructed. Which was half the reason I chose it.

The extra was my professor who was quite amused at my selection. After class we went for a drink to discuss it. That discussion eventually moved to her home and continued enthusiastically in her bed until early in the morning. She was a lot of fun.

"And this book?" Corrine continues. "May I ask what it is for?"

"Yes. I'm doing a paper on the history of erotica, concentrating on how it reflects the social mores of the time it was written. I also want to show that the frequency with which erotica was created paralleled the rise of the middle class. As the middle class grew larger, so did the market for it so more was produced."

As last week, she swivels her head towards me and her eyes are frowning in puzzlement.

I get that look all the time. Some people have explained to me the dichotomy between my appearance and my intellect seems too wide to be believed.

We come to the fiction section once more. Going to the appropriate aisle we stop and Corrine turns to face the shelves.

Her face takes on a bewildered look. "That's odd. It should be right there." She points to a spot, waist height.

I move my eyes, searching for my book. "There it is," I remark and point to the top shelf, beyond the reach of either of us.

"Darn!" she remarks. "Who put it there?"

I know the answer to that. I did, earlier in the day.

"I'll go get the ladder," she tells me.

"Not necessary." I step behind her, take her waist in my hands and lift her. She's about the same mass as the weights I often use, so I don't find it difficult to elevate her to the desired height.

"Oh!" she gasps, "What?"

Her ass is in my face. I so want to give a cheek a soft bite, but it's too soon for that. "Have you got it?" I ask.

A quiver runs through her body as my voice teases her bum. I hear a clicking of teeth and a soft sibilance. "Y,Yes," comes a moment later.

I lower her back down to the ground. She turns to me and backs away. Her face is flushed, her eyes glistening. She swallows once more and her chest draws shallow breaths.

I extend my hand, keeping an innocent expression on my face. I make it look like I'm quite unaware of the effect of my actions.

With a shaky hand, she gives me my book. My fingers brush hers as I take it and she jerks back as if shocked. With a visible effort she composes herself, the stuffy expression reappears on her face. She turns and heads back to the front desk, head up and neck stiff.

I fall into step beside her. "Have you read my work at the website I gave you?" I ask her.

Her shoulders hunch for an instant, her mouth grimaces. "N,no."

"I wish you would," I tell her. "I always like to hear the opinions of those involved in literature."

"We, we'll see," she replies. Her body tremors slightly.

We've arrived back at the counter. I hand her the book and she goes through the ritual of signing it out.

As she hands it back to me I say, "Thank you, Corrine. Nice talking with you again."

Her expression softens. The thin line of her mouth pulls up at the corners, just a little. Her eyes crinkle slightly. "You're welcome, Mr. Carson."

"Adam. I've told you that."

Her gaze falls to the counter. "Sorry."

"No problem." I reach across the counter and pat a cheek.

She steps back, her hands come up to her chin and she squeezes the fingers of her right with her left. A flush blooms on her cheeks.

"Good night, Corrine." I head to the exit. Once there, I again turn and give a friendly wave. As last week, she hasn't moved nor does she return the gesture.

"This is going well," I think as I head head for my Hog.


Another week has passed and I return to the library for the next step. Corrine sees me as I enter.

Her cheeks immediately redden, her mouth drops slightly and she blinks. Her eyes never leave mine as I approach.

"Good evening, Corrine," I greet.

There's an instant where my soon-to-be playmate smiles. Her face shows both happiness and anticipation. That instant passes and the cool facade Ms. Nevis presents to the world falls back into place.

I pass last week's book to her and she turns to place it in the appropriate cart. "Do you need another book, Mr....Adam." Her shoulders jerk as she almost repeats her mistake and then the fabric over her ass moves as she corrects herself. She bends forward a bit and reaches her hand out to set the tome in it down.

"Yes indeed, Corrine. I need 'Justine' this week."

She straightens with a gasp and drops what was held in her hand. Making a squeaky "Oh!" of embarrassment, she kneels to pick it up.

A "Hmm," of appreciation comes from me. Squatting like that draws the fabric of her skirt taut, displaying her sweet ass. I also notice that again she's wearing seamed hosiery, and stilettos this time. She makes for a very sexy sight.

Blushing at her clumsiness Corrine stands, puts the book away and leads me into the library proper.

"I'm impressed, Corrine. You always know just where to go for what I need." I turn to watch her reaction.

"Thank you," she replies and looks at me. Her smile flashes for another instant before she faces front once more. "It's my job."

"Of course," is what I keep inside. "Tens of thousands of books here and you know just where to find the porn." I make sure I don't chuckle.

"Perhaps we should get the ladder just in case," I tell her. "We wouldn't want something like last week to happen."

Her face snaps towards me, mouth open and cheeks blooming. Turning away again, a tiny tremor shakes her and I see her throat work in a gulp. "N,no," Corrine stammers, "We, we wouldn't." She changes course to carry out my idea.

We arrive at the proper spot and she scans for my requested volume. "Not again," she complains.

"I think somebody's trying to keep it out of the reach of minors," I remark, pointing once again to the top shelf.

"Shit," Corrine declares as she puts the step stool down. She doesn't realise how she's slipped and I don't wish to point it out. When she recalls it will shake her reserve even more.

Mounting the ladder, she reaches up and pulls my request down. She starts to descend.

"Careful!" I exclaim.

She flinches and turns towards me. A mistake on only one foot, in heels at that. Corrine loses her balance and topples towards me.

I step forward and wrap my arms around her waist. She pressed against me now, her sweet tits in my face.

Her arms and legs encase me. A quiver runs through her body and she gasps. There's a moment where her limbs tighten their hold. Then they release.

At that instant I gently lower her to the floor. "Are you all right?" I ask. My face looks concerned, and innocent.

Her body is very stiff and her cheeks are quite crimson. The nod of affirmation she gives me is hardly noticeable. A barely visible sheen of sweat is on her forehead and she swallows audibly.

I reach out and take the book from her hand.

This snaps her from her daze. Corrine heads back to her position at the front desk. Her steps have a frantic feel, as if she's running for cover. Several times she almost stumbles as her knees don't quite hold her up.

The discomfited woman calms on reaching her safe zone. She gets the book from me and starts the process of signing it out.

"Have you taken a chance to read my work yet?" I ask her then.

In response her eyes dart to the computer monitor at a desk placed behind the barrier of the front counter. "N, not yet," the nervous lady responds. Her hand trembles slightly as she hands my acquisition back to me.

"I understand. Thank you again for your help, Corrine."

The actual beginning of a smile appears on her mouth. "You're welcome, Adam." Her eyes start as she discovers what she's doing and her lips resume their usual narrow line.

I exit the library, giving my now standard wave on the way out. Corrine almost raises her hand in return. But again, she stops when she realises she's acting outside her boundaries.

"I'd say that things are progressing nicely," I think as I put my book in the saddle bag of my bike.


"I think I'll be able to finish this project tonight." I step into the library and walk towards Corrine.

Her eyes light up at the sight of me, her smile is honest and full. That expression withdraws into curiosity at the way I'm dressed tonight.

I do have my leather jacket on but the rest is very different, a grey dress shirt and black slacks. A Native American bead and turquoise necklace holds my collar closed.

"Good evening, Corrine," I greet as I come to the counter. "I had a small party to go to. Publishers and that. I have to get dressed up at least a little."

"Hello, Adam," she replies. The smile returns. "I was wondering." Her blue irises display a much warmer glow than usual.

She stiffens then. Her standard mask falls into place and she lowers her eyes to hide her feelings even more.

I chuckle inside. Things are moving along very well indeed.

Handing my book to her, she again takes it and puts it on the returns cart. I say nothing. When she turns to face me again her face shows a slight amount of confusion. The usual rhythm of our interaction has been changed a little.

"Do you need another book tonight?" she inquires.

"I do, thanks for asking," I reply.

Her uncertainty is replaced by her stuffy look. We're back in the rhythm.

"I need 'The Pearl' tonight," I inform her.

As the times before, her eyes widen, she blushes slightly and a tiny tremor runs through her. After taking her gulp she says, "This way," and leads me to my request.

I stay close behind her. As we enter an aisle of books, I take an extra long step and catch one of the heels of her shoes under my toe.

The sudden change of balance causes Corrine to stumble, she begins to pitch forward.

Before she can fall, I grab her hips, pull her towards me. My crotch is now pressed against her ass. Her forward leg comes back to restore her balance.

It's a lewd sight we present. Her bent over with her legs spread. And me close behind her, hips in my hands and pushing against her cheeks.

A gasping hiss comes from Corrine. She wiggles her buttocks against me for an instant. I feel her body tremor.

We hold for just a moment, then I step back, releasing her. She straightens and turns towards me.

Corrine's face is ruddy, her eyes blink and are shining. Her mouth is pulled back in a tight line, the corners wavering up and down, unable to choose which emotion to show. Her jacket tightens as she draws a deep breath.

I allow one eyebrow to rise, a salty smile on my face.

Her emotions fix at that, her facial features sharpen and her smile mirrors my own. For a moment. Then they run backwards through surprise, unease and finally the librarian returns. Corrine swivels and leads me through the stacks once more.

She stops when we reach our goal, hesitates. My project glances sideways to make sure the book we look for is in its proper place. Her posture relaxes a bit as she finds there won't be any surprises this time. She pulls out my request, hands it to me and we head back to her counter.

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byrgraham666© 59 comments/ 266044 views/ 100 favorites

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