Nothing Matters: The Librarian

Inspired by the work of Takahiro Awatake.

It was a quiet space even before the Fall, when the world stopped being run by people. Well, human people. Melanie was a volunteer who helped manage the old library, organize books, and answer questions for the few visitors who still held an interest in reading them. She loved the old tomes that filled the byzantine stacks and adored the cozy corners where she could curl up and read on a world long past that would probably never come again. A bell would sound when someone opened the front door, otherwise she spent many an hour on a comfy, if worn, wingback chair under a reading lamp in the land of forgotten dreams without interruption. There was power, although some days the bulb would flicker or dim. She had a stock of replacements but she had no idea if they would, or could, ever get fresh ones once those were all burned out.

In the meantime, she enjoyed the long afternoons of these slow days. Melanie vaguely recalled the hustle and bustle of school and prepping for a depressed job market and the anxiety and stress of it all. Now, all that weight was gone. She didn't question where the food came from, someone must still grow it. There was still commerce between regions. None of the fare could be called fabulous, but it wasn't terrible either. Part of her stipend for working at the library included room and board. How these finances worked or who ultimately kept track of the ledgers, she didn't question. Not many people did these days.

Her life was leisurely and dull, punctuated only that one time the Melon Head had visited. It hadn't done much, just briefly touched her shoulder with a stalk. She'd seen it, or him, a few times in the streets when it visited the town but it was rare, perhaps once or twice in a year. Still, actually being in contact with the being was a bit unsettling yet she had remained calm. The Melon Head had murmured something, but Melanie didn't quite recall what it had said, or commanded.

After that, life had continued as normal, she slept in the back room and prepared simple meals in the kitchenette. There was a restroom with a tiny shower stall that was probably for janitorial use originally but it suited her just fine.

One day, after toweling off, she had absent mindedly wandered the stacks thinking about looking for a new photo book that had interested her. She loved perusing the artifacts of the old world, seeing long dead people working, playing, and relaxing in the golden age of humanity. There was a special collections section which had been age restricted since it held the saucier "art" books full of nudes and scandalous things. She picked out a big portrait sized hardback that showcased full color pinup art of the 20th Century. When observing the overflowing bust of one model, Melanie absently compared them to her own chest and only then realized she had been wandering around totally naked.

She laughed but didn't go back for her clothes, finding her favorite chair and leafing through the big book in her lap. After that day, she spent more afternoons conveniently forgetting her clothes. It didn't matter much, as there were few visitors and the bell would give her enough warning. A couple times she had to rush breathlessly to the back room to pull on her garments, coming out to greet the customer with a slight blush. No one complained about the delay if they ended up waiting at the front desk to check in a return or other sundry business, as no one was ever in a rush these days.

Sometimes, she would find herself lost in herself as she brushed a hand along the rows, afternoon light filtering through the tall windows and rippling across her skin when she crossed from one aisle to another. In those moments, she felt secure, as if she belonged in this place in middle of her own awareness, a self that stretched to encompass the whole of the library's arching ceilings. Most of the old overhead lights were either broken or turned off to conserve energy so many of the deeper stacks were shadowed in gloom, requiring a flashlight or a small lamp that could be plugged in to illuminate a section if she needed to find an obscure book for someone or her own curiosity. She padded on the ancient hardwood floor, barefoot, and free in spirit.

Anyone who might peer through the dusty windows might have seen the flash of naked skin of a pale woman with dark brunette hair flowing unencumbered over her back as she traipsed, full chest swinging freely. She felt alive in those moments among the musty shelves, her skin touching the weathered book covers as if her nerves would transfer sensation through them in such a way that they were no longer a pile of dead paper but an organic thing that lived in the bones of the old library.

Melanie had skimmed many classics but had recently settled into ribald romances and trashy genre fiction. The heroines seemed to fall into the arms of quite a few lovers depending on the book, though some were steamier than others. A relationship wasn't something she had considered, living alone. She'd had few friends and those who hadn't moved away when they could. None of her friends were readers. They would only visit on rare occasion, and rarer still, would she leave the nest of her comfortable old library.

Among the visitors, there were a few regulars but they were usually older and reserved or only interested in practical subjects, such as textbooks or guides for various crafts for projects they might be working on. A few read for pleasure, as Melanie did, but rarely shared her interests so there wasn't much to talk about and contemporary books were almost all quite outdated. There were no recent politics or hot items to debate.

People didn't really argue about much of anything anymore. It was a quiet world.

One day she was engrossed in a particularly raunchy love scene. Her hand had naturally been curious, mimicking some of the places being described on the pages of the dog eared paperback. Eventually, her fingers homed in on the most sensitive parts of her body. Quite without any intention, she clenched her lip and indulged in some autoeroticism, strumming her fingers on her own instrument until she let out a satisfied moan. She kicked out a leg, knocking over a loose pile of books she had set aside. Fortunately, she had planned ahead and brought a hand towel...

That's when she'd looked up to meet the startled eyes of Harlan who she had forgotten was due that day for a delivery. He had, of course, come through the back entrance so she had not heard the bell. Red-faced, Harlan turned, stammering something, and ran off before she could say anything. Melanie sat, legs splayed and mouth agape for a long moment before she jumped up, shouting, "Wait! It's not what...you think...!" She immediately realized how stupid that sounded.

She grabbed an apron to partially cover her front and raced toward the store room but Harlan had abandoned his dolly. Melanie sighed, not due to the quickly fading sense of shame, but the annoyance of having to unload the supplies without his help. There were some canned goods, produce, fresh eggs, and even a few cuts of real meat wrapped in butcher paper as well as the pressed and dried manna that grew like kudzu these days. It was a plain but important staple. She would stretch the meat out for the week until the next delivery. After that day, Harlan made sure to knock loudly and he averted his gaze when she signed for the delivery.

Melanie figured he'd come around eventually. After all, they usually did. Perhaps it was the shock of that incident which had finally dispersed any illusion of modesty. Either way, after that day, she had realized she hadn't really cared at all so she rarely ever wore more than her apron and she tended to discard that when it got itchy. The days were warm and there was no one to complain, certainly not the customers who only nodded a bit as if this was just the way things were now. Some stared, some did other things.

A couple weeks later she had her leg up, absently pleasing herself as Mrs. Lang dropped her returns into the bin. The elderly matron had smiled, cackling, "Sweetie, you're going to get a rug burn like that. If you don't mind, I got a few things I don't need anymore." Melanie had nodded eagerly, so Mrs. Lang had returned with a canvas bag filled with her unused toys from her own rambunctious youth as well as some sealed bottles of lubricant. "I don't know if the lube has expired but I don't think it will be a problem. Use it sparingly, since I don't think we'll get more. But who knows."

Melanie gasped at the selection that Mrs. Lang spilled out onto the counter. The toys ranged from full sized phalluses to small bullet sized vibrators. Mrs. Lang said, "The battery powered ones are probably dead but you can test them out. Many weren't used, pretty much new out of the box, but the rest have been sanitized. If you have a problem with that..."

"Oh, no! This is great." Melanie responded quickly, holding up a wicked looking jeweled butt plug. "Oh my, what's this? You had a spicy life, Mrs. Lang!"

"You can call me Dori. It's good to be young, enjoy it!"

Melanie batted her eyes and stuck out her tongue, "You could show me how to use this?"

Mrs. Lang laughed heartily, "I'm tempted but you must have a guide book somewhere in the stacks."

Melanie grew to enjoy the feel of the anal toy and would go about her rounds with it nestled inside of her. Later, she was leaning into the return bin when she heard a "harrumph" from behind her. She glanced back to see one of her regulars, Mr. Switzer, a grey haired gentleman in his early sixties.

He coughed into one hand, "No shame at all. Strange days, indeed. Our water heater is acting up, so do you happen to have any manuals that might have schematics for this part?" He handed her a note.

"Hold on, I'll be right back, I think I might have something," she answered cheerily, noticing that he was staring. Well, at his age, he had no shame either apparently.

The manuals were high up on one of the overflow stacks so she made sure Mr. Switzer had a good view as she climbed up the ladder.

"Here you go, I think this one might have it," she said, handing him the spiral bound reference manual. He absently wetted a finger and leafed from page to page, grunting when it seemed he had found something. She asked, "Would you like to browse some more?"

Her nipples had perked up a bit as she'd come around to his side of the counter. Almost as if in a daze, he used the same thumb to flick them, and ran the palm of his hand down the downy fuzz of her belly. Her muscles tensed in anticipation but he only skimmed the pages of her pink book with a light graze.

"Turn around, I wish to look at the thing up your ass," he commanded.

Obediently, she allowed him to lean close and for a long minute she wondered what was so fascinating back there to garner such a long inspection.

He lightly patted her butt and gathered the reference book and turned to leave, "After all these years. Still the same initials." He seemed bemused.

Melanie's eyes widened with curiosity, "Wait, what do you mean?"

She pried out the plug and examined it in the bathroom. Indeed, there were the initials "T.S." laser engraved into the artificial gem. She hadn't noticed it before. On the base holding the gem, there was a faded imprint: Property of.

"Ah, I see. Mrs. Lang, you did have a spicy youth!"

There were other amusements to fill the long days. The Murphy brothers suddenly became regulars even though they didn't check anything out. In their late twenties, the two twin bachelors enjoyed catching her in the act and even assisting if needed. On a particularly slow day, she had climbed on the counter, head down and ass up, probing herself with a dildo. The bell rang as usual but she didn't stop as the two brothers sauntered into the library, casually pretending not to notice at first as they flipped through the same magazines they had pretended to read numerous times in the past.

"Robert, you don't mind plugging in that vibrator do you?" She begged as she edged closer, shifting from one hand to another as she pumped the faux dick in and out. She pointed him to the unit with the power cord loosely wrapped around it.

"Yes, just hold it there. Thanks."

Without prompting, Andrew, or she guessed from his calloused hands, kneaded her chest while Robert used one hand to hold the wand on the right spot while stroking her back with the other. It didn't take much longer for her to peak out, quivering as she pushed the wand away from her sensitive bits. Melanie collapsed on her side, still stroking the dildo slowly. Her hair draped over her eyes so she tossed her head and remarked, "I was to take a break here but if you guys want to keep going..."

They nodded eagerly. Robert decided to focus on her lower half while Andrew surprised her with his boldness by giving her a deep kiss. She couldn't remember the last time someone had done that. Well, the rest of her had been kissed quite a bit in the past few weeks. Robert was already down there, nibbling on her inner thigh as he played with her ass. Her hand found its way into Andrew's slacks and freed what had risen there. She tasted one brother as the other tasted her.

After some awkward groping, they ended up on a rug in the middle of the library's main floor with her straddling Andrew while Robert teased her face with his own cock, his pants kicked free. Andrew was greedy and wouldn't swap immediately. Melanie tossed her head, waves of hair swirling across her back. She leaned forward, "I kind of guess this would happen so it's safe back there." Rob's eyes lit up with lust as he understood what she meant. She slowed down her ride enough so he could slip into her asshole and within a few moments both brothers were filling her up.

The three of them became a sweating wreck with three backs as their lust overflowed. They were both tall and strong and their burly arms traded her between them, sometimes her pussy, sometimes her mouth, and sometimes her ass in no particular order.

At the end she was a heaving mess that they used up and tossed onto the floor after they were done, all propriety long gone to the madness of the moment. Their minds were blank with lust for what seemed like hours until finally, almost meekly, one of the brothers (she had long lost track of which one), asked, "Mind if we use the shower? We stink like pigs." She haphazardly waved them toward the bathroom. They gathered up their clothes and ambled away, shooting satisfied grins at each other.

Melanie lay in a wet puddle on the floor, spent. She almost fell asleep but heard a sound, thinking the brothers had come back. Instead, she saw Harlan, his pants around his ankles, hovering over her. His hands were choking the chicken with frenetic abandon as if he had been desperate to finish the deed before she had noticed. Too late to stop, he spurted across her chest and face.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I couldn't help it."

Melanie shrugged, coyly licking his spunk from the corner of her mouth.

Red faced, Harlan hurriedly gathered his pants and turned to leave.

Melanie stopped him, "Hold on. Help me clean up. Go get a mop and bucket. I'm going to take a shower."

"Why should I?" Harlan retorted, in a rare burst of courage.

"Just do it. Besides, I'm game for another round," she batted her eyes in an attempt to be coquettish but it was absurd with her straggled hair and cum-drenched countenance. Somehow this mollified him. He ducked his head and nodded. The temptation was greater than his temerity.

The Murphy brothers had gone out the back way. It was usually locked but Harlan, the only other person with the key, had obviously left it open when he snuck in. Today wasn't a delivery day. She didn't quite understand why he felt to need to sneak around when she certainly didn't mind the direct approach but she accurately guessed that his inherent shyness was the motivation for the furtiveness.

After a quick wash and a dry, she walked back, wringing water from her hair with a towel. Harlan was diligently wiping down the dregs of the afternoon's folly with the mop. When he saw her, he reddened again, as she, as usual these days, had neglected to put anything on. After finishing with the floor and rinsing out the bucket, he helped her take the soiled rug out to wash and dry out on the upper balcony where she usually hung her laundry. Lately, she hadn't had much need for that, one of the benefits of her new lifestyle.

A wire had been strung from eyelets punched into the wall. She hung the rug and the used towels to dry in the afternoon sun. She bumped into Harlan on occasion as they worked. His face never lost its color. They paused for a break, looking over the expanse of trees that surrounded the library grounds. The thick and strange kudzu was ever present, intermingling with the native flora yet somehow not overwhelming it. Everyone had grown use to the alien vegetation, and the sight of it was strangely soothing. She grabbed his arm and pulled him close, using a hand to gently rub the side of his face. Melanie was actually a little taller than him, so she stared down into his green flecked eyes. For once, he didn't turn away. She kissed him.

"You know I had a crush on you for a long time," he finally managed.

"I know."

"And now, Melon Head turned you into whore!" He blurted.

"I don't charge, so I can't be a whore. Maybe I'm just a garden variety slut. But so are you, even if only in your own head, dumbass." She flicked him on the forehead.

His hands had naturally cupped her ass.

He finally looked down again, though this time to stare at her ample chest, "You're right. I spent a lot of nights rubbing one out to these in my head." He laid his head on them as if they were a home he had missed for a long, long time.

"Is this okay? Melon Head used his mind tricks on you..."

She shook her head, "It's not like that, I don't think. More like, I think he, or it, can tell who can...no wants, this, whatever this is. Melon Head just let me become who I wanted to be the whole time. And through me, now you can be whoever you want to be too. And everyone else I meet."

He reddened again, "And fuck."

"Yes, that too," she laughed.

After that, they became regular lovers, though neither was exclusive to each other.

Harlan found a girlfriend, equally skittish at first, but soon a very close friend. Sometimes they would hang around and help at the library or have a picnic on the balcony. Juliet was a whimsical brunette with short cropped hair and a perky chest that contrasted well with Melanie's abundance. The three of them were tickle fighting in the buff when Mrs. Lang came through the door, bell clanging.

"How nice, free love is it? You should wear flowers in your hair, like those old boomers did before they all shriveled up," the older woman jested. Juliet screeched and ran into the back, arm over her chest. She wasn't quite used to the public nudity. Harlan scooted behind Melanie for some cover.

"If you're not too busy fooling, here is the next title I want to check out, dear," Mrs. Lang winked.

Winter came.

Although mild, it gave a good excuse to huddle indoors in close quarters and under blankets. Melanie pondered charging rent as the couple had practically moved in at that point. They shared the small but cozy mattress in the storeroom that she had turned into sleeping quarters. All three of them practically became one flesh, with Juliet enjoying being the center of both their attentions. Overly sensitive at first, Harlan was now quite experienced and able at satisfying both of them quite thoroughly. He got into trouble when his greed, and loose tongue, got the better of him.

Juliet stormed out for a few days when he had casually floated the idea of having an open relationship while the three of them were cuddling in their little nest.