Lucas and the Library Girl

"Some younger sister. The older one's name is Elizabeth, I think." I thought some more, shocked that I'd left out her most important feature. "She's got these weird green eyes."

"Elizabeth Sheely," Amy said immediately. "Graduated maybe three years ago?" She sucked at her diet soda. "Her sister is Meg. Meg Sheely." I at once pictured little Meg, a petite and quiet sort with freckles and dark hair. She looked nothing at all like Liz. "I had them both." She chewed thoughtfully. "Meg is smarter, but Beth was a better kid. More personable." A swallow. "Weird, a little bit."

"Yeah," I said slowly. Beth. "She definitely seems a little weird."

"How do you know her?" Amy slurped out more soda.

I shrugged. "I don't, really. She's a waitress at a restaurant Meredith and I went to the other night. She was making small talk after she saw my name on the credit card," I lied. "Sort of a kooky girl, Meredith thought."

Amy had lost interest. "Little bit," she repeated.

Huh. Meg Sheely. I thought about the younger sister, trying to get a few clues about the older. A stupid idea, obviously; I'm nothing like my brother. Shannon saw my expression and pounced as she took her seat. "Is this something I should warn Meredith about, Lucas?" she laughed, dimpling. I just looked back at her in disbelief. "I'm kidding," she chuckled.

As well she should be. By her own admission, Shannon had cheated on her own boyfriend before when he was at sea.

* * *

By and by, my next library trip rolled toward me; I needed a refresher on my junior class' next reading, and as a second-year teacher I had yet to be trusted with keys to the bookroom. I drove toward the library in a strangely detached excitement, hoping vaguely that Liz wouldn't be working tonight.

No luck, obviously. I never have any luck.

She was over by the computers, helping an octogenarian check his email. I saw her before she saw me, and I quickly sought a concealed position among the stacks. As usual, she oozed sex appeal: a khaki skirt fell to her knees, with green suede boots beneath her knobby knees. A pink cardigan covered what seemed to be a white shirt of some sort. She had a jaunty green ponytail streaming like a banner above her. No glasses tonight.

What I needed was Chinua Achebe, so I made my way over to the nonwestern fiction section. I hated the junior curriculum, hated it with a lively and incandescent hatred, but I was a young teacher and had to pay my dues. It was a steady diet of everything dry and stale, guaranteed to make both students and teachers listless and snappish: Kate Chopin, Herman Melville, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Hell, even goddamn Faulkner. The unutterably useless Steinbeck. And there wasn't nearly enough Edgar Allan Poe or Hemingway to save the course. Given an entire world of vibrant, fascinating literature, the school committee had made a conscious effort to go as vanilla as it possibly could.

I found my books and peeked out to see whether the coast was clear. Sure enough, another employee was at the circ desk. Some aging raisin named Karen or something. I broke cover and headed over, my eyes snapping side to side to make sure I could safely dodge the tempting Liz.

And, just as I hove up to the circ counter with a warm smile, a soft voice came from right behind me. "You can go on break, Carole," Liz said calmly. "I can handle this one." And, lo and behold, along came Liz, drifting behind the counter with her unconscious modelesque strut. The crone behind the counter gave me a nasty look, but she took her break anyway. And there she was, staring evenly at me as always, her nametag proudly announcing a new name. I held my breath, made a point of looking at the nametag, and plunged in.

"You don't seem much like a Betsy," I blurted. My throat felt tight, and it didn't ease much when she returned a big grin.

"Ah, but I am a Betsy." She winked. "Sometimes. Like today, for example. How can I help you this evening, Mr Sanders?"

"Just these books," I muttered, passing my card across the counter. She didn't touch it.

"No need for that; I know your card number." She caught my raised eyebrows. "It's no biggie. I've got all my regulars memorized." She typed a flurry of numbers. "I've decided you can be Lukey," she said offhand. "I gave them all a try and settled on that one."

"O - okay." I hated the name at once. "Most people just call me Lucas."

"I'm not most people," she said flatly. She busied herself with my books, and I laid sweaty palms upon the counter. The scanner beeped. "Did you figure out who my sister is?" she asked softly. "I figured you'd try to."

I swallowed. No reason to pretend, of course. "Naturally, Ms Sheely."

"The very one," she nodded. "I actually prefer 'Miss,' though. I'm old-fashioned that way." She bent her head down to catch my eye as it fixated on the counter. "But you can call me whatever you want. I'm not picky."

For no reason I could figure out, I escalated. "Sure thing, Bedroom Girl."

"Ah!" She giggled playfully. "Now you're waking up. For a minute there, I was afraid I was talking to a statue." She folded her arms across the counter and slouched low. "My sister says you're very lively in class. Where's that guy around me?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You're very blunt."

"I don't believe in wasting time," she rapped back.

"Hmm." I looked around, but there were no other patrons coming to get their books checked out. Rescue was not in the cards. "I've wondered about that. Around my students I'm quick and witty and even arrogant. They like me, I think. Outside the classroom?" I shrugged, toying with one of the books. "I've never felt like I fit in."

"Sad." She reached for me, her fingers dancing briefly along my hand before she withdrew. "I used to be the same way. Then one day I just said fuck it." Her shirt was gaping at her chest; I could see the beginnings of a lacy bra. "Not everyone is going to get me, but some will. So I just spend my time with the ones who do. And there are always more of those, just waiting out there." She waited quietly until I looked into that unsettling gaze. "I think you and I would suit each other nicely. Don't you feel the same way?"

Holy shit. She was so alluring. A light brown birthmark, looking like a large freckle, stared at me from beneath her right eye. Good God. I'd been dating the same girlfriend for four years. "I wouldn't want to speculate," I said, but I put on what I thought might be a mysterious smile. She might think I was flirting. I was anxious not to have to make a decision here, as always.

My luck held. "You've been staring at me every time you come into this library for two years now. I don't need to speculate about how you feel." Abruptly, she took my books and twisted gracefully to put them on the desk behind her. "You can take these when you leave. Carole will be off break soon. Follow me."

And she was off, not looking back at me as she made her way to the swinging gate that separated the circ area from the rest of the library. She was determined, heading straight into the back corner of the room, and still she did not look back; she knew I would follow. She strode past the reference desk with a purpose, trading a pleasant nod with the librarian there, and then took a sudden left into the reference stacks. I lost sight of her for a moment, but I took care not to hurry past the reference librarian as I followed.

There stood Liz, halfway down the shelves, her arms crossed beneath those little breasts and her legs parted. Her right hip was cocked prominently, and that prim mouth was twisted into a half grin. She was sex on legs. She put a long finger to her lips, then beckoned me closer.

Of course, I obeyed.

When I was close enough to smell her perfume and feel her body heat, she put on a serious face and looked up at me. I must have looked as foolish and uncertain as I felt. "We'll need to be quiet, Lukey; this is a library, after all." Her arms uncrossed smoothly as her hands found their way to my chest, resting lightly there. "Do you remember last week," she whispered calmly, "when I said I'd never gotten it on in the stacks?"

I was petrified as she moved one leg firmly and surely between mine, her hands going straight to my butt as she pulled me into her. "That might change soon." She was moving to kiss me, without any hint of shame as her lips parted. I was unable to tear my attention from those eyes as they grew larger and larger, crashing toward my face; I was so mesmerized by them that I missed the actual moment that her lips met mine.

Thin or not, her lips were warm and wet and excited as they made contact. I thought I could feel her nose stud grate over my nostril as she moved her face to get a better angle, and then the hot slickness of her tongue nipped in to trace across my teeth. Her fingers tightened on my ass. I froze, shocked, hearing the slithery sound of mixing saliva as I let her kiss me. Her green eyes stayed wide open, gleaming with mischief, and she let out a tiny moan.

She was finished with me after a solid ten seconds of devouring my mouth. Her tongue and lips had explored every nook and cranny; I had spit smeared down my chin as she pulled slowly back. She smiled and gave me a squeeze. "Relax, Lukey. Grab my ass and get to work." She noticed my eyes darting around crazily, and her throat gurgled with a silent chuckle. "Don't worry. There's a reason we're making out in the reference stacks. There's an internet now; nobody ever comes to use the reference books."

"Uhh," I said, or something like it; I was completely overwhelmed as she slid back in for more. She was smiling complacently, starting this time with a series of light pecks across my lips before diving back in, nipping at my lower lip with her teeth when I didn't immediately open my mouth. My arms instinctively went around her thin form, and as directed I ran them down the washboard of her ribcage to her wide-set hips, then around to her unremarkable ass.

Ah, but it wasn't unremarkable to me: it was a novelty. I'd been glancing at this ass for months, and I explored its very ordinary curves with an interest that surprised me. The khaki skirt was thin enough that I could feel where her underwear crossed her cheeks, far less than halfway down. She gasped a little as I gripped her, then exhaled coffee breath into my mouth. A thin trail of saliva hung between us like Charlotte's Web when she backed away, breathing hard.

"Well now," she whispered. The smirk was back, the eyes still penetrating me. "See? I told you we'd fit together." She shimmied herself in my arms, pushing hard against me. She was right: she nestled into me as though she belonged there. The top of her green head snuggled beneath my chin; she maneuvered her hands until they burrowed comfortably into the back pockets of my jeans.

As if she were my girlfriend.

Fuck. I was moving backward as soon as I had that thought, looking frantically up and down the aisle of shelves. Not a soul was there. "Liz," I began, my hands fleeing from her butt as though she were electrically charged, "I have to go."

"Mmm." She moved with me as I collided with a shelf. "It's Betsy."

"Right. Betsy." My arms waved aimlessly in the air, caught with nothing to do. She showed no signed of disentangling herself, and I was suddenly aware of my dick pressing hard against the inside of my pants. It wasn't surprising that I was trying to get hard, but it was a little painful; I am one of those guys who don't like getting hard with my dick pointing down. Especially with Liz' sweaty leg trembling right up against it. "I'm, uh, late."

She nuzzled upward, licking my neck. "Right," she purred. "Your Meredith is waiting." I had a sudden overpowering fear that she would leave a hickey. "I guess I shouldn't keep you from her." She didn't sound either sad or triumphant; she was just making conversation.

"Yup." It was a lame response, but I was not thinking straight. She moved her body slowly back away from me, still holding me close at the hips, and looked calmly up at me. "She'll be wondering where I am."

She shrugged. "She doesn't know you're at the library, Lukey?" Her fingers clutched confidently at my cheeks.

"No, but she'll wonder what taking so long."

"Long?" She smiled, moving her hips along my leg. "We've only been back here for a few minutes. Hell, tell her the truth; she shouldn't be surprised." Unexpectedly, she leaned in to nip at my ear. I retreated with a painful crash into a shelf full of Holocaust books. She chuckled softly. "If she was doing her job at home, I doubt you'd be back here with me." That was very close to the truth, but I didn't want to think about it right now. "So, you're saying you need me to take my hands off your ass so you can leave?"

"Sure." I didn't really want her to stop touching me, not really, but I was very afraid we'd get caught. I don't know why I was so freaked; it was obviously her that would be getting in trouble if we did.

"I'm not sure I want to. It's a nice ass," she observed reasonably. Still, much to my relief, she pulled her hands from my pockets with a final squeeze. "You liked mine too, I could tell."

"Absolutely." It was automatic, but I regretted it immediately. I didn't need to flirt back to this girl; I needed to get away and think about this. Still, she only nodded coolly, as though I'd merely told her the sky was blue.

"Yes." She backed away and looked me over, tucking a green tendril behind her ear as she did so. "We'll see each other again soon, Lukey. I'll be Liz next time, if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Uh, it doesn't matter." We started back toward the circ desk. "I thought you lost that nametag, you said."

"You're a moron," she pointed out. "It's a goddamn label maker, Lukey. I can make any kind of nametag I want. Even Meredith, if you'd prefer," she said snidely, her eyes saucy as they slid toward me. She walked off toward the office, reaching out surreptitiously to tweak my arm as she went. Wrinkly Carole waited at the desk, and I'm sure she saw my scarlet face as I picked up my books and made for the door as smoothly as my erection would let me.

* * *

No idea. I had no idea at all how to react to this. It had never once entered my mind to cheat on Meredith, and actually I'd always been careful to avoid even a hint of intimacy with other women. Other than that single, mistaken kiss from (NOT "to") Gina, of course. And that had been all her, leaning over in my car and taking a sloppy, unsatisfactory attempt at my lips. And today had been all Liz, though with much better aim.

Or had it? I tormented myself on the way home, thinking about the enthusiasm with which I'd clutched at her butt. I'd been into it, that was for sure; she'd been nothing more than her usual self, a self I'd been dealing with for two years, and yet today I'd gripped that ass with a confidence I never felt, even around Meredith.

Who was waiting for me once I got home. I entered the apartment chewing gum, having obsessively wiped at my mouth with about four Kleenex. My life would crash and burn if she smelled another woman on me, and I didn't want that. But later, as her familiar shape slept peacefully beside me, I lay there, biting my nails and wondering where all this would lead.

* * *

I began to find out at school the next day, and under very troubling circumstances. The bell rang to end my sophomore English class, and I was just turning to get my water bottle from my desk when I became aware of a person waiting quietly behind me. Another class was coming in, and I turned with a strange sense of dissociation to find the short, slight shape of Margaret Sheely waiting patiently.

Meg didn't act much like Liz, but her body was identical. Everything, from her tiny boobs to her flat ass, was proportioned exactly the same way it was on her sister. But Meg had clearer skin, less height, darker hair, and eyes of a brown so dark it was difficult to make out her pupils. She almost never spoke in class; I think I had heard her voice precisely twice. She waited silently for me to speak.

"Hi, Meg," I said pleasantly, if a bit nervously. "Need something?"

"Lizzy wanted me to give you this," she said flatly, holding out a plain white envelope printed with the library's return address. I hesitated, and she misinterpreted. "My sister. At the library."

"Oh! Yes! The librarian," I said vaguely, hoping I was coming across as more confused than worried. She just looked at me solemnly and waited for me to take the envelope. "What is it?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded steady.

She shrugged, her skinny shoulders bobbing once. "No idea. She said it's about an overdue book. Like, she forgot to mail it at work." Meg was obviously completely uninterested in any of this. Her eyes drifted toward the door.

"Do you need a pass to your next class?" I asked, taking the hint. She just shook her head before, with an enigmatic glance, moving out into the hall. Kids were filtering in for my next class, and with a pang of worry I put the envelope on top of my bag and went back to work.

So I'd completely forgotten about it by the end of the day, when I noticed it still lying on my bag. It was an official envelope, but my name was scrawled across the blank portion in a careful cursive with large, looping letters. The bustle from the hallway was in full swing, with most of the students still in the building, as I took my seat and looked carefully at the envelope. It was sealed, my name staring at me in Liz' childish script. I hesitated for a few more seconds before I shrugged and opened it with my thumb.

There was a single sheet of blank printer paper inside, folded in threes. I felt a strange sense of trepidation as I unfolded it, apprehensive about what I'd find. This was already like some trip into a strange new world, like I was opening a letter from Narnia or something. Like some sort of dwarf or genie would emerge sparkling from some glowing puddle of light on the paper to grant me some wishes.

But no. It was just a piece of paper.

Care to go for a coffee? was the simple, scrawled cursive message, and a loyalty card for Harborside Books and Tea trickled out from among the folds. The card fell into my hands, bright orange and with several holes punched into the numbered edge. On the card, in purple Sharpie, was written ELIZA in block letters. I frowned and looked at the paper again, where a postscript in the corner said, in smaller letters, Library closes at seven. Loading dock.

Huh. I mean, I'm obtuse, but I'm not stupid: Ellie wanted me to pick her up out back of the library at seven, then take her to B&T, then buy her some coffee. Simple enough, if presumptuous. I was an attached man, and she was asking me to take her out on a date in public. She had quite the nerve.

But of course I'd do it; she knew that very well. I was under her spell, and that's how I found myself waiting outside the library's service entrance, locked into my car in the shadows between two streetlamps like I was waiting to kidnap a juvenile. My hands gripped the wheel nervously as my watch ticked toward eight, and I thought about the excuse I'd given Meredith.

I was in trouble there, I thought sourly; she'd never believe I'd "gone out for a beer with the guys," and I knew I'd need to tapdance in a major way when I got home. Worse, there was an outstanding chance that Liz and I would be seen at B&T; I'd have to suggest another place as soon as she appeared.

Which didn't take long. Elizabeth Sheely was no kind of manager, so she wasn't the one locking up. She came trotting out at 6:54, closed the door behind her, and stood complacently while her head made a traverse of the parking lot. Then she came down the concrete steps and headed straight for my car with long strides, her pelvis out in front of her, as usual walking like a runway model. She passed in and out of the pools of light from the streetlamps, and as she got closer I could see her pursed lips. She came up to my window, and I'm not even sure whether I was smiling as I lowered it.