Lucas and the Library Girl

"Why are you sitting out here in the dark like James Bond?" She smiled then, tightly, the fingers of her left hand coming to rest on the car door. "It's like you're waiting to pass secrets to the Underground."

"Well, shit," I muttered, looking up at last. Her eyes, as always pierced me. "Isn't this a little bit secret?"

"Not really," she replied dryly; it was obvious that she fully expected to see me here. Just as I'd figured, it hadn't entered her mind that I'd do anything other than show up for a date with her. "We're going for coffee and cookies, not on some secret overnight trip to get married in Canada." She tapped the door, the tight smile coming and going, then came around the front of the car to settle in beside me. "Shall we go?"

"Uh," I said noncommittally; I started the car. "Maybe we should go someplace else? There's a bubble tea place over in Hightower." A couple towns over, I didn't add. She failed to answer, and after an awkward pause I looked over at her.

Those eyes. "Why wouldn't we go to Book and Tea?" she demanded. "Did you not notice my card?" She held out her hand, and I remembered I'd put the thing in my pocket. "I've got two slots left until I get a free whoopee pie, and those two slots are your coffee and my coffee. Tonight." She shook her head as though this couldn't possibly be more obvious. "I'm craving a whoopie pie."

I blinked and wondered why she didn't just go buy the whoopie pie, but it seemed silly to ask. So I just shrugged and decided my life was over, and took off for B&T. And Liz simply sat back as though she belonged there, calmly looking out the window. Halfway there, almost as an afterthought, the fastened her seatbelt.

Today was, apparently, a glasses day; her blue plastic rims surrounded those intense eyes, her hair done up in French braids. A button-up yellow blouse topped a knee-length skirt, black and tight. My eyes drifted over to where her calves disappeared into the darkness under the dashboard. "You look nice," I ventured, for lack of anything better to say.

She leveled her gaze back at me. "Kind of you to say," she said, "but I know how I look after a long day at work." She sniffed critically at her armpit. "I need a shower."

"Don't we all," I replied automatically. The B&T was coming up in the next block, and already I was scanning around for cars I knew. I could only hope nobody who knew Meredith would be here.

Harborside Book and Tea was a small place that specialized in neither books nor tea, but it was currently on its fourth owner with the same name and nobody saw any reason to change it. It was a small, cozy, somewhat run-down place highly regarded for the quality of its cold-brew coffee. Parking was always tight, but since there were jut a few seats inside nobody stayed long. I found a spot across the street and looked over at Liz. Now that we were here, I thought I might weakly try again to suggest a different place; she, though, was already on her way out the door. I sighed.

The door creaked as we went in, and I held it for Liz; I was taking care to avoid touching her. Maybe people would think we were just out for a friendly cup, or that we'd merely arrived at the same time or something. Or maybe, just maybe, I'd know nobody here.

Fat chance. The girl working the counter was Gretchen Barry, a student of mine from last year. She broke into a smile when she saw me. "Hey, Mr Sanders!" she enthused. "Hi, Eliza. What can I get for you?"

At once, Ellie moved toward me and gripped my arm possessively. I shut my eyes in frustration. "Hi Gretchen," I replied. I could only hope Gretchen wasn't friendly with Meg; already her eyes were moving intently back and forth between Ellie and I. Students are always wondering about the private lives of their teachers. I gulped.

"I am here," Ellie announced loftily, "to get a free whoopie pie!" Aside from us and Gretchen, there were two other people there. They glanced up curiously. "My card please, Lucas?" She looked expectantly at me, and I burrowed into my pocket to produce the card. Gretchen took it with a smile. "You can punch those last two numbers with a pair of Caffé Cortados, with whipped cream, please."

"You got it!" Gretchen was a good fit as a barista, naturally sprightly. "And for your free whoopie pie?"

"Why, strawberry-mango, of course," Ellie beamed. The Whoopie Pie of the Day was a B&T specialty, even at seven at night. Gretchen smiled and bustled off to get our orders, while Ellie pulled a flower-printed wallet from her purse. "My treat," she purred.

"Thanks." I had no idea what a Cortado was, and when my glass mug with a wire handle arrived at one of the tiny tables, I fingered it dubiously. I was not even remotely craving coffee, but Ellie took a deep swallow and regarded her whoopie pie with satisfied glee.

"Delightful," she murmured. "Thanks so much for the ride, Lukey." She winked across at me, then scooted her chair around the table so that our knees were touching. "No need to avoid me."

"I'm not avoiding you." I smiled thinly; she had to be picking up on my discomfort. The other two patrons were finishing up, and Gretchen was looking at us closely. I took a cautious sip, and was relieved when the coffee tasted delicious. Sweeter than I was used to. "How was your day at work?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can count on one hand," she mused, "the number of people who actually check out anything interesting. Most folks are a mix of romance novels, popular magazines, or thrillers, with no respect for literature." She sipped. "You're different, of course, but there are not too many like you." She chewed at another bite of whoopie pie, then reached over to hold my hand. "That's why I'm attracted to you."

"Thanks." I was not, at the best of times, a lively date; under these circumstances, I bored even myself. "The coffee's great."

"I like a lot of different kinds," she went on, stroking my hand idly. "But of course anything's better with a whoopie pie." She held the half-eaten dessert up to my mouth. "Have a taste."

Nothing could please me less. I took a tiny nibble, the sweetness just about numbing me. "Yum," I said. Ellie raised her eyebrows and reached a lazy finger over to wipe some crumbs from my lips.

"You're a messy eater," she observed. "I wouldn't have thought so." She waited while I swallowed, then without warning leaned in and kissed me. It was not particularly passionate, and certainly did not involve tongue, but she did it with a familiarity and confidence that scared me. Her lips were wet and excited. "I missed you yesterday."

"Huh." No idea what I should say to that. Gretchen watched with care. "You're better at this than I am."

"What? Dating?" She leaned back over, her arm now comfortable around my neck, and kissed me again. I was at least ready for it this time. "Romance? I don't blame you, Lukey. You're out on a date with someone other than your girlfriend; why would you be happy about it?" The last kiss meant business, a long and moist lingual duel. Mingled coffee, mango, and strawberry filled my mouth. Good God; Gretchen would have plenty to tell her friends tomorrow. "I'll make sure you get more comfortable with me. I can tell you like kissing me, for example." She grinned and finished off her whoopie pie. "Even though I'm sure I've had more practice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was smiling despite myself. "I can kiss just fine."

"You do kiss just fine," she nodded, "but I'll guarantee I've done more than you have, interpersonal-relationships-wise." It was a complicated sentence, but she pulled it off. "I'll bet you've never done anything more extreme than eating a girl out, for example."

"Mouth!" I hissed. The place was not that big, and Gretchen Barry did not need to hear about my sex life. I glanced around; the other couple was leaving. "Why?" I asked, intrigued despite myself. "How far have you gone?"

She shrugged, then looked evenly at me for a long moment. "When I was in college," she began, a bit more hushed, "I dated a guy who was into filming stuff. Not porn, per se, but definitely some depraved stuff." She shook her head, remembering with a strange smile. "He asked if I'd want to play around with any of that, and sometimes I did. No biggie."

I didn't want to go further, but as she well knew I couldn't help myself. "How far, Liz?"

She paused and licked at her fingers. "The most extreme was probably a bukkake video. You know what bukkake is?" I nodded wordlessly, and she clapped her hands once. A wicked smile crossed her lips. "Why, Lukey! I wouldn't have thought you'd know." She nudged my leg with hers. "Guess we know what you've been doing on the Internet." She finished off her coffee. "Yeah, it was pretty disgusting. It was only about six guys, but still. It was okay until I ran out of saliva," she finished enigmatically. "It taught me something important, though."

"What's that?" I raced to drain my mug, hoping it meant we would leave soon.

"I learned I really only enjoy getting splattered with cum if I actually know and like the guy attached to the dick." She laughed. "But what the hell, right? We all make mistakes." She leaned down to pick up her purse, leaving me stunned. Who the fuck was this girl? She straightened up, stretching her back. "Want to go?"

"Oh yes," I said fervently. Gretchen, with nothing else to do, was now staring openly at me. The chair squealed as I shoved it back. "I'll give you a lift back to your car," I said hopefully.

"Why?" She got up. "Just take me home, Lukey. That's where my car is; I walked to work today.

"Did you."

"Yeah, I had a pretty good idea you'd be driving me home." She looked happily at me. "I was right, of course. It all depended on Meg doing her job, and she's very conscientious. As long as she delivered my note, I knew you'd come get me." She offered her hand extravagantly; Gretchen looked impressed. "Shall we, Lucas?"

Nothing for it. "We shall, Liz."

* * *

She hadn't lied; her apartment building was just a block and a half from ours. "What excuse did you give your Meredith?" she asked as I turned onto Florencita. I made a face.

"Out for some beers with the other teachers," I replied. She laughed.

"Like she'll believe that," she said with scorn. "You live dangerously. But whatever; Meg says you hang out with Ms Torrey and Ms Boyle and all them. They'd keep you out for awhile longer than this, I think." She nodded to herself. "You'll have to come up to my place for awhile. Kill some time."

"Eh, I think I'd rather not if it's all the same, Liz." I glanced cautiously over toward Crescent View as I eased to the curb outside her apartment building; I could even see the top of my elevator shaft from here, through some trees.

"It's not all the same. You gave Meredith a shitty alibi; I'm helping you make it more believable." She popped her seatbelt off and reached for the door handle. "Besides, I know you haven't dated in awhile, but it's very rude to refuse a nightcap. Especially when we've already kissed; you know damn well we're going to make out up there." She shrugged and opened her door, sliding into the night without another word.

And I? Did I drive away? Did I stay obstinately behind the wheel? Of course not; I was locking my door as I followed her to the entrance, up some steps. I yelled at myself when, weak and overcome by the situation, I even rested a hand on the small of her back. She took no notice, though, sticking her mail underneath her arm and leading the way through the door and up some stairs to Apartment 22.

There was nobody else out that night. It was one of those postwar apartment complexes, rectangular and stucco, with the courtyard in the center and the apartment doors all facing each other. Looked pretty clean, too; I had little doubt Liz would keep her space nice and tidy. My thumb moved idly up her spine as we walked, entirely on its own. It was as if it wasn't even mine. "My roommate's visiting Thailand for a couple of weeks," she said quietly as she fished out her keys. "You have Jeff or Keith Longstadt in your classes?"

"Both." They were twins, and of course they'd been sitting together in every class since kindergarten. I got the sense they were sick of each other.

"I live with their sister." Great. I followed her into a darkened living room; hints of a kitchen loomed on the right, with the bedrooms and bathroom down a short corridor straight ahead. Popcorn ceilings, cheap glossy paint on the walls. She clicked on a floor lamp and picked up the TV remote. "Go ahead and take a seat, watch some TV," she advised, gesturing with the remote toward a secondhand couch. "I'll come join you in a few minutes."

I blinked as she set her purse carelessly on the coffee table. "Where are you going?"

"I told you," she said calmly, kicking off a pair of nice flipflops, "I need a shower. You can join me if you like, but it's our first date. You might want to dial it back a bit." She grinned mischievously, leaving her sandals right there on the floor as she glided toward the hallway. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge, and feel free to snoop. I'll be about eleven or twelve minutes."

"Huh." This was insanity. "You're, uh, very precise."

"Like I said," she shook her head, "I don't believe in wasting time." Her skirt was already starting to come down as she passed into the shadowed hall; I had a brief glimpse of bright green underwear as she flicked on the bathroom light, then the door closed and a fan started.

Well, goddamn. Another test from a supremely confident girl. I could, even should, just leave right now. But she knew I'd still be here when she came out. She knew it absolutely.

And she was correct; I had the hockey game on, sitting ill at ease on the greenish couch, when I heard the fan stop. I couldn't help myself from looking down the hall, only to see a towel-wrapped Liz waiting in the door for my glance. Her hair was down and stringy, her naked shoulders bony above the towel. "Just a sec," she called as she drifted to the bedroom on the right.

The scent of bath soap and shampoo slowly stole through the apartment. I sat there, frightened, wondering what the hell I should do. Of course I knew she'd come out of her bedroom in pajamas, or a bathrobe, or even naked; I was not surprised, then, at her choice of a blue silk kimono, falling to mid-thigh, gaping loosely open at the top. She leaned in to shut off the bathroom light, then came my way comfortably, as though we both lived there.

"Find anything while you snooped?" she grinned, standing at the end of the sofa. I slowly made eye contact.

"I didn't snoop, Liz," I said defensively. She shrugged.

"Whatever. Don't expect me to hold back whenever I get into Casa Sanders," she said over her shoulder, heading for the kitchen. "Beer?"

"Sure." It would be churlish to refuse, and anyway I wanted one. It was 7:45; I figured I could decently head home at nine. Any time spent drinking beer would be time I wouldn't have to spend trying to fend off Liz. "Something dark, if you've got it."

"No problem." When she came back, she had both beers loosely held in her right hand, carrying them low against her leg. "Now then," she explained as she set them down. I noticed they left a wet spot of condensation against her stringy thigh. "I'm going to sit down next to you, and we're going to snuggle. You'll hold me, because I've been on my feet all day, and then one thing will lead to another. Sound like something that might interest you, Lukey?"

Speechless, I realized it wouldn't matter what I said. The situation carried its own terrible momentum. My untouched bottle of beer waited on the coffee table as Liz moved coolly to my right side, tightened the knot on the kimono, and sank down to the sofa with the sort of feline grace that women seem to have without even trying. Her hair overpowered me with its shampoo smell as she nestled into my side; putting my arm up and around her shoulders was quite automatic, and I was left with a warm, silky woman crowding into my right side and a dick, already gone rock-hard, threatening to ruin my underwear. I looked down at the top of her head. "Your green's starting to fade a tad," I ventured, mostly because I needed something to say.

"Mmm." She adjusted herself slightly, shifting her butt around until her body curved fully into mine. I had my right leg crossed over my left knee, the foot moving nervously. With nothing to do, my left hand caressed the remote. "You into this hockey game?" she asked, as though we were just a normal couple home for the evening.

"Not really. Was there something else you wanted to watch?" This was ridiculous. Liz and I were neither married, nor living together, nor even dating; I was firmly attached to someone else. And yet she'd effortlessly turned me into her husband, the two of us calm in our domestic bliss, exactly as if we'd been spending our evening this way for years. But the whole thing was a charade; it occurred to me that I had no clue what kinds of shows she was into, or indeed whether she watched much TV at all.

"I don't care," she said simply. "I'm not really going to be paying attention to the TV. You either, if I'm doing my job properly." She yawned, and then everything got more awkward. She twisted to face me, her bare legs drawn way up onto the couch underneath her, and now she sent her right hand very casually down to my thigh. Her head stirred upward, her lips capturing my earlobe, and her left hand curled around to the other side of my head. "I'd rather get to know you a little better," she murmured, her breath very hot and loud in my ear.

I couldn't help it. I moaned. My fingers tightened on Liz' shoulder. She began to place tiny, wet kisses on my neck, her own hand drifting higher on my thigh. "I know you're not sure about all this," she breathed in my ear, "but I am." And then she pulled away, pushed my right ankle off my left knee, and swung her bare leg lithely across my lap. The kimono billowed, then settled over her body; I'd gotten a glimpse of a blonde triangle topping her pussy beneath, now suspended above my groin; the loose gap at her chest was falling away, revealing a bold pink nipple. She took no notice, staring into my eyes with her usual intensity. I felt her legs pressing against mine, her breath drifting against my face in impatient blasts. Both my hands rested helplessly on her naked thighs, and she leaned deliberately forward to wind her arms along the sides of my neck.

"I like kissing you," she whispered, closing in and parting her lips. I pushed my face forward, meeting her, ashamed by my need. She exhaled into my mouth as we met, our lips resting briefly on each other at first. I saw that her eyes were closed, and for some reason I pushed my hands up her legs, speared my tongue into her mouth, and gave up.

She moved on my lap as we kissed, her body squirming and rolling. Her lips pulsed against mine, and I felt long fingers tangling in my hair, pulling and twisting. She was certainly passionate, I realized, my own tongue flicking madly back and forth in an effort to keep up. My hands had kept going under the kimono, and now my palms pressed hot against her naked hips. I could feel her muscles tensing and relaxing as she moved, the beginnings of her bare ass whispering against my fingertips.

And we hadn't stopped kissing yet. Our breaths were getting heavier and heavier into each others' mouths. Her hair was like seaweed, whipping around my face, and at last we stopped, parting by mutual agreement, our chests heaving. She loosened her grip on my hair and leaned back, that skinny body towering above me on the cheap sofa. "Well now," she crowed quietly, "I told you we'd suit each other nicely." Her hands came back around to my front, stroking my chest in a leisurely way. "I'm pleased I was right about that."