Librarian Ch. 01

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Ana gets a surprise.
2.3k words
4.31
28.7k
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 06/29/2004
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Ana jumped when the phone at her desk rang. She'd been so intense on her thoughts that she'd forgotten for a moment that she was at work. She reached for the receiver, and pulled it to her ear, "Ana speaking".

"Hi, it's uh, me" the deep male voice said on the other end.

"Hello, you," she smiled into the phone. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like you to come teach my bones & stones class sometime in the next couple of weeks, if you can. I don't think they know what a library is, much less how to use one. Do you have time? It's the Wednesday evening course."

"Let me check my calendar..." She opened the program on her computer that held her schedule.

"Hm, let's see... I can do it next week. Six o'clock?"

"Yes. Should I bring them there, or do you want to come to the classroom?"

"Are you in a wired classroom?"

"Yes, they finished it over the summer."

"OK, it's best then to do it there. I don't know how many instructional rooms the library has free right now – it's pretty booked this time of year."

"Great then, I'll see you around six then, in my office?"

"Sure, can I stop in a little early to talk over the lesson plan, details of their research, ability, and so forth?"

"Absolutely, I'm not booked for office hours."

"Mmk, I'll see you then" Ana typed the info into her calendar while she held the phone with her shoulder.

"Thanks, I appreciate it Ana." At the sound of his voice speaking her name, she faltered in her typing.

"Sure thing, see you."

"See you."

She hung up the receiver and sighed. What a strange relationship this had turned out to be. She had come to college a little later in life, and had been in his classes as an undergraduate. She had been drawn to him immediately, and he reciprocated a professional interest, well, maybe a little more after a while.

He had encouraged her writing, drawn her into his own, and the inevitable had happened. She'd fallen in love with him. A few years later, she'd completed her masters in library science and gone to work for the same college. They'd been emailing each other practically every day for almost 7 years, even after she had confessed her feelings for him a few years back.

He was more than 20 years older than she, on his third wife and the verge of retirement, so she was unsurprised that he'd acknowledged her feelings with dignity and respect and then declared the subject verboten.

They both agreed that there was value to the relationship as it stood, and it was worth it to take care it stayed that way. They had found the places they fit into each others' lives, and they continued to find new places to grow into. They'd remained close, and yet never once touched – even accidentally. She never spoke his name, either, preferring to address him directly.

Her feelings hadn't changed, but she'd been so used to the way things were, and liked them so much, she gave little thought to them most of the time.

She had built a nice life for herself, and was not opposed to the idea of finding love again; she just wasn't in any hurry. She glanced at her watch. Too much daydreaming today, it was already time to go home.

* * * * *

The building that held his office and the classroom was a towering old brick building, marble and cast iron everywhere. It held the social sciences and the humanities departments on campus. She went in through the front door and climbed the stairs to the 5th floor where the Anthropology department was.

Glass and wood partitions lined the hallway, and she reached his door; an office like Philip Marlow would have. The door was open about a foot, and she tapped softly on the glass with the tip of her finger, pushing the door open a bit further.

"Come in," he said, "have a seat." The ubiquitous pencil sticking out of the bun in her hair preceded her head around the corner of the door as she entered the room. She found him typing at his laptop, and recognized the text on the screen as a portion of his novel. She smiled and teased, "Oh, I see. I'm teaching for you tonight so that you can get some writing done."

He gave the rough exhale that passed for laughter and said, "I'm not, really. But I am. They're ahead of schedule, and they need the help at the library if they're to do well on their assignment. I really do appreciate it."

They discussed the details so that she could tailor the lesson to the students' needs. When they wrapped up a few minutes later, she said "All right then. I'll go set up the lesson plan and let you get to it. I'll come and get you when I'm done?"

"Yes, thank you. I might send them home afterwards, I don't know yet. Haven't decided." He turned back to his writing as she slipped from the room.

She spent the next half hour working in silence preparing the lesson for the class. It took about an hour to show them the databases and to make sure that they knew how to operate their email. When she was done, she came back and knocked on his door. "I'm done," she said as she pushed the door open.

"Wow, where did the time go? That was fast." He looked surprised as he glanced at his watch. Ok, thanks. I'll be right back. Will you wait here?"

"Sure, can I peek?" she indicated the screen.

"No, wait for me, I'll let them go and be back."

"OK"

She unbuttoned her sweater covering her blouse as she wandered around the room for a little while, looking at his books, occasionally straightening one that was askew.

She was leafing through one of her favorites in his collection, the arm to her glasses in her mouth when he walked back in. She shut the book and placed the glasses back on her face.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Can I read this to you? See how it sounds?"

"I'll never say no to that," she smiled.

"Well," he indicated that she should take a seat.

She complied, sitting in the chair at the side of his desk, smoothing her skirt as she did. He turned the laptop so he could face her while he read. She let her gaze wander off to the books as he began.

"So, do you want my reaction off the cuff, or should I be taking notes?" she asked.

"Just listen. Tell me if it works."

It was about 8 minutes into the reading when she realized he was reading a sex scene to her. She sighed softly, despite herself. She steeled herself against her inevitable arousal, and paid attention to the flow of the text.

When he finished, she waited a minute to get her bearings. "That was great," she spoke softly and had to clear her throat. "Seriously good – I mean, you've captured the sadness of the scene perfectly."

"Sadness?" he asked, "I hadn't noticed, but now that you say that of course I see it. Hmm, I didn't know."

"It really does work, especially considering the bridge to the next scene – it really will draw your reader along nicely. It's very good," she said, moving her eyes reluctantly meeting his gaze. Sometimes it was all there, in her eyes, she knew, and those were the times it was best to just look away. She couldn't help herself; she looked right at him.

The expression on his face, the look in his eyes when their gazes met caused her to sharply inhale. She immediately broke away, looking to the floor as she stood up and moved to button her sweater to hide her arousal. Her back was turned to him as she shakily drew a breath and reached for her bag. His hand covered hers and she stopped cold, her heart pounding.

"It's time for me to go. I have a date," she said quickly. She knew he could tell she was lying, but wanted to give him one more chance to get out of this situation he'd created.

He moved his fingers to intertwine with hers, and brought the palm of her hand to his lips.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"You can't tell?" he raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side and smiled.

"I deserve a better answer than that," she told him.

He gripped her hand in his, and reached to take the other one, bringing them closer together. "Yes, you do," he sighed. "I was writing this scene and thinking about you standing in for me tonight. Standing there with that pencil sticking out of your hair, teaching these poor kids how to check their email, and I realized that I want you. Now."

"You're sure about this?" she asked.

"No," he laughed, reaching for the buttons of her sweater, loosening them one by one.

She laughed dryly, trembling as she laid her hands on his wrists as they moved to the top button of her blouse.

"Turn around," he whispered as soon as he'd pushed her blouse over her bare shoulders. "I haven't been able to get this idea out of my mind ever since you asked me to take that damned photo," he said as he traced the lines of the tattoo on her back, softly, with the tips of his fingers. He followed the path his fingers took with his lips and tongue. She shivered with pleasure, saying "that was years ago."

He brought his hands around to cup her breasts and took her earlobe into his mouth. She reached back and pulled his hips closer to her with one hand and caressed his beard with the other. One of his hands left her breast to pull the pencil that held her hair into a bun. Her long curls glinted red in the lamplight as it cascaded down over the two of them.

She looked up at their reflection, vague in the window, as she gasped with pleasure. He felt her move and looked to the window to catch her gaze. She turned to him and reached up to curl her nails into his neatly trimmed beard. She caught his lips and arched her back as his arms closed around her. As their kiss intensified, he moved his hand up and wrapped her hair around his arm like he was grabbing a life line, his hand finally gripping her head. He pulled her closer to him, crushing her breasts to his chest. She was on her toes, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and down his back. Her hand reached into the waistband of his jeans and pressed at the base of his spine as she thrust her hips up and into him.

He pulled his head back, gasping and looked into her eyes. "Ana," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes lidded with passion.

"Yes," she answered into his lips as she moved closer. He walked her backwards to the desk, the movement of their bodies against each other driving them. As soon as she reached the desk, she moved her hands to unfasten his jeans. "Button-fly," she growled, "goddammit." She made a point to brush her knuckles against his erection as she held his gaze and slowly undid the buttons.

He lunged for her mouth, but she ducked and held him at bay with her hands as she completed her task. As soon as she was finished, she pulled his jeans and boxers down with one pull and pulled her foot up to push them down to his ankles.

He took the opportunity to push her skirt up her leg, to her hips, and groaned. She was naked beneath her skirt and he immediately moved it aside and brought his swollen cock to her and stopped short of entering her.

Their gazes locked.

He cupped his long fingers around her face as he drove slowly into her until he reached the hilt.

Everything changed in that moment. It seemed an eternity that they were still; joined; perfect. They smiled at each other, and she began to move her muscles around him. He caressed her jaw-line, and with feather light touches, traced her hair down to her breasts. He cupped them in his hands and finally broke her gaze to lower his mouth to her nipple.

She bucked against him, wrapping her legs around his hips, clutching and grinding. He timed his thrusts with her movements, and she gasped at the onslaught of the sensations roiling through her body. His beard brushed against her nipple and her breath caught in her throat; she nearly cried out. He chuckled into her breast and began to trail kisses over to her shoulder, back up to her neck, all the while keeping a steady rhythm thrusting into her. His hands were on her hips, anchoring her. It was all she could do to hang on and rock into him. His kisses turned sharp with his teeth, and she moaned softly as the sensations combined and triggered the first contractions inside of her. Her hands gripped his shoulders and her head fell back, as she kept perfect time with him while her orgasm escalated.

She felt him twitch inside her and then her own rippling. Their hips fused as they climaxed together, clutching at each other, breathing fast. Eventually, he pulled his head away to look into her eyes and he brushed a few stray hairs away from her face, gently. Their gaze was electric. She squeezed her muscles around his half-hard cock one last time and smiled as he shuddered and lurched inside of her. She gasped as the motion triggered an aftershock. Their eyes never lost contact. She opened her mouth to speak several times before she finally found her voice.

"Um," she said softly, "now what?"

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