The Bookseller

I thought about teasing him in his confusion, but since I was just barely containing my own inner turmoil, I thought it not wise. Or kind. But mostly, not wise. I was still gently sweating all over.

He paid in cash as always, and I laid his change down on top of my book for him to pick up. In part, I didn't trust my hands to touch his, and in part I wanted to let him get a good look at the cover, associating the three-quarters naked red-haired bombshell on the cover with little old red-headed me.

As he left, I came to conscious terms with the fact that I wanted Rog. I wasn't sure if I wanted to have him, or to tease him mercilessly. I settled eventually on teasing him mercilessly... then having him. I could have simply asked him out, but he might have said no. I had no desire to chance that. Somehow, my brain had entwined Rog with my new book. Images of him kept flashing in and superimposing themselves when I was imagining Bernadette and her escapades. And I wanted to exert the same power over him that Bernadette was currently applying to Stephano. Finally, he really did have an objectively nice ass.

Rog was suddenly the object of a nascent plan the likes of which I had never concocted or even conceived of before. I believed it would likely crash and burn, but the whole elaborate idea turned me on so much it was probably worth it, just for the pleasure the planning.

If Rog stuck to his usual schedule, I wouldn't see him until Friday or even early next week. But I hoped he might be drawn back earlier--I was certainly drawn to having him back earlier. So that very afternoon, I explored my own store, looking at it with a new eye. I made a few adjustments and noted them so I could reset them each morning before I opened. I wanted to be ready to launch my plan into action whenever he returned.

Beginning the next morning, I altered my style of dress just a little bit, leaning into the sexy librarian vibe. I exchanged my usual black slacks for a charcoal pencil skirt that ended well above my knees. My white cotton dress blouses stayed, but since my hands apparently wanted to unbutton a few extra, I indulged them, definitely leaving some real cleavage display. Once other staff came in each day, that could be easily altered. I pulled my old heavy black-rimmed glasses out of the drawer and left my contacts at home. Finally, I pulled my plentiful red hair back into a very severe bun behind my head, pinning it in place with the long jeweled hairpin I had bought a year ago at an antique mall.

Rog didn't come the next day. I hadn't expected him to, but I still felt a stab of disappointment when Stacy, my afternoon help wandered in at lunchtime. She validated my clothing decisions when she saw me and whistled, "Wow, Gerry! Putting in some extra effort? It looks good." I left the store early. Stacy was my most reliable worker, and I wanted to shop a little to fine-tune my new wardrobe/weapons array.

I made myself giggle picking out some new underwear that was nothing like I usually wore. I even bought a garter belt and several pairs of black stockings with visible black seams up the back. I had never worn garters and stockings before and I prayed I wouldn't need to resort to YouTube instructional videos to figure out how to put them on. I found two new white blouses that were more fitted around my midsection, making my boobs look bigger than they were. Then I hit the jackpot with a dressy black skirt. It was just long enough to not be scandalous, with the hem resting at mid-thigh on me. Better yet, it was a wrap around, and if I lifted my leg much at all, it split open to reveal even more of my upper thigh. All I would have to do is walk sedately up a set of stairs and anyone paying attention would know I was wearing stockings, not my usual pantyhose.

I wore the whole getup on Thursday. Rog did not show, which again frustrated but did not surprise me. The effect of my new wardrobe was very definitely demonstrated when my other main employee John came in to work, ten minutes late as per usual. John was a college kid and a bit of a nerd. He was smart as a whip, super well-read, and was great with customers, but otherwise a fairly lazy employee. His eyes bugged out when he walked in and saw me standing there in my 'enhanced' new wardrobe. I smiled hello and walked toward him. John swallowed and practically ran to the register to clock in. He then bolted off to another part of the store, busying himself with work so he didn't have to be around me. I couldn't tell whether he was hiding a boner, or was trying to avoid popping one. Either way, whenever he slacked off I had only to walk near him and he'd shoot off to straighten shelves, run the sweeper, or process some online orders. I'd always thought he had a bit of a crush on me anyway, but this was rather heartening. Was John's junk big enough to be all that noticeable if he got hard over me?

In other news, I was now so horny that I was contemplating the dick size of my nerdy employee....

I was loaded for bear on Friday, with the best of my new bras, the form-fittingest of my new blouses, collar popped up in back, and the severe yet revealing skirt. I even wore my three and a half inch black patent pumps. If Rog didn't show, and I suppose even if he did, when John came in to work he was either going to have to learn to live with a boner in front of his boss, or just continue his new life of actually working for his paycheck.

I got in early enough to have all my morning work done well before opening. I checked my preparations around the store, and settled in by the front door. If Rog didn't show today, I really was going to be downcast. His usual pattern would have only meant a fifty-fifty chance of his coming in, but after our little co-voyeur moment last time, I figured he'd be here with bells on if he could, and if he wasn't, it likely meant that he wouldn't be coming back at all. That possibility sucked.

To get in the mood, I returned to the instigating book. The story had taken a turn I had definitely not expected and a new villain had emerged. That threat to both Bernadette and the duchy could only be countered by the efforts of Christophe and Stephano in cooperation. They resisted working together of course, and I felt it inevitable that in the next chapter the heroine was going to force their hands, cooperation-wise, by having sex with them both simultaneously. Even without my main aim of lying in wait this morning for Rog, knowing that this chapter was next to read would alone have been enough to make me prepare for damp panties... IF I had been wearing panties, that is.

I pressed the button on the automation app on my phone which changed the sign by the door from red CLOSED to green OPEN, and the smart lock on the door silently clicked open. I started to read, but even this book was unable to keep my concentration. After barely a page, I was fidgeting.

Would Rog come today, as I suspected he would? As I hoped he would? He did travel a lot, I thought. Maybe he couldn't come? But maybe I had scared him off for good. Maybe I wasn't that appealing to him. He had been staring at me, sure, but maybe he was just watching me make a fool of myself in public?

My resolve, my focus was wavering at a very bad time. But I could not stop asking the questions over and over in my mind. My vision strayed to the register computer and the video feeds. An idea struck me and I brought up the file from the camera pointed at Rog on the day I felt myself up. I scrubbed through the video until I saw him step into the frame. I smiled a little as he went straight to the new book, the one I remembered him looking at. He'd obviously seen it before. He opened it, then looked around to make sure no one else was around. He never even looked down at the book before his gaze slipped through the bookshelf in front of him and he obviously spied me. From that point forward he just stared at me unmoving, shifting only a little here and there to apparently get a better view of me reading and touching myself.

Jesus, how long had I sat there feeling myself up? More to the point, was he turned on, or just fascinated by my foolishness? I got my answer when he started having to adjust the front of his pants! He did it several times, in fact, and his hand lingered on his junk more and more each time he shifted things around to accommodate his growing 'problem'. I smiled and deleted the file. I had my answer.

Once again sure of myself, I picked up the book. Was I really sure of myself? No. This was a totally new thing I was going to try, and it could collapse with a bang, or worse, with a whimper. But I was absolutely sure I was going to try it.

If Rog showed up, that is.

I'd been agonizing for what seemed like forever when I looked at the clock. It was 9:18. I'd been sitting there for less than twenty minutes. I shook my head and bent to the book. It was still too early for Rog to get here anyway.

The bell on the door rang and Rog walked in less than 60 seconds later. He'd never come in this early.

I looked up from the book and smiled at him. "Hi, Rog!" I called, straightening up my back and blinking at him through my black framed glasses. My prescription was just strong enough to make my eyes look a little bigger than natural through them, and I hoped that Rog was into the look of slightly slutty anime librarians. His eyes did indeed widen at the sight of me and his nostrils even flared a little in a very encouraging sign.

"I, uh, hi, Gerry! It's a beautiful, uh, day, isn't it?" He stammered. He seemed to want to keep talking, perhaps to let his voice smooth out. I was holding my book up before me, lurid cover facing him. He nodded casually at the book. "Still working on that one?"

I would not have expected him to openly acknowledge the book! That was promising. "Yes," I smiled again, looking down at the pages for a moment. "I keep coming back to it. I can't help it. It's intense."

Rog couldn't come up with anything else to say after that, and waved a little before heading back to the rest of the store. I checked the monitor and sure enough, he had gone straight to the Perv Bait area first thing. He didn't even bother with the books back there, he just went to observe me through the stacks. I wanted to reward him. My hand stole up and rubbed across my belly, brushing the underside of my breasts while I read.

Bernadette stood before and between the two massive gentlemen, her temper matching her fiery locks as they waved in the breeze.

"Enough, good sirs!" she exclaimed passionately. "I cannot--will not, permit you to continue to fight one another over me. The duchy requires that you work together."

"I," she emphasized regally, "require that you work together!" She reached out to place a hand gently on each man's burly chest. She stepped forward between them. "I shall teach you that you can indeed work in concert," she breathed softly. Her hands began to slowly slide downward on each man's hard muscled body.

I hadn't even meant to, but my hand had already slid upward to grasp my boob again. I watched Rog on screen through the corner of my eye and he was very still as I squeezed and massaged myself. I kept at it until I clearly felt my headlights poking through my blouse. I hoped he could see them at that distance.

Regardless, it was time to move on. I blew out a long breath and fanned myself with the book. Looking around as if to see if Rog or any other imagined customer, could see me. I rose from my chair and stealthily slipped back among the shelves. I moved slowly, and peered around each corner as if I did not want to be observed. Of course, the only other person in the store was Rog, and I knew he was behind me. If all went well, he was fairly close behind me.

I reached the back corner of the store and slid back along the last row of shelves. I stopped midway along, and leaned back against the shelving unit that was against the wall. I opened the book again and resumed reading, my senses alive for the sounds of movement. He was quiet. The first indication of him was a flash of movement through the shelf unit facing me. Rog has slipped into the next aisle over and seemed to have found the narrow gap in the books that I had arranged at just below his eye level that would give him a good view of where I stood. I smiled at this, and at the book, as I read.

Her hands softly explored the front of both men's trousers, but Bernadette kept her gaze downcast, avoiding either's gaze.

Both men were of course shocked at such a scandalous turn of events. Her actions were far beyond the Pale, improper on a scale they could not quite conceive, even for this wild spirit that they both loved and lusted for. Her caress of the swelling sign of their arousal held each man paralyzed at first, but then as one, they bestirred themselves to protest.

Bernadette cut them both off with a stern squeeze of her fingers upon their masculinity, hard enough to return them into silence after but a word or two. She massaged them gently for a moment in reward for their silence. "Very good, my darlings," she said, her voice dark but loving. Her hands stole away from they lower regions and went to the tightly fastened neck of her heavy over cloak. "I will teach you... I will SHOW you," she went on, unfastening the cloak and letting it slide off her to the ground, "that you can indeed share."

She stood between them, bereft of even the simplest undergarment--naked under their hungry gaze.

My mind snapped back to my own plans for male manipulation. Fortunately my hands had continued with the syllabus without me, and had my shirt unbuttoned far enough that Rog could surely see the white, lacy, and undersized bra I was wearing. I felt myself up a little more, this time with my hand inside my shirt.

I slowly lifted my leg and perched it on the rolling stool I had left back there for this purpose. The luridly high heels I wore pushed my leg up quite high. The slit of the wrap-around skirt fell open along my thigh almost to the hip. The top of my stocking was completely exposed, along with the black strap of my garter. My hand slipped off of my breast and caressed my thigh in turn. I trailed my fingers up and down the silky nylon. I shivered a little in response to my own touch, the image of Bernadette jacking off two hunks simultaneously, and especially the sound of quiet but increasingly shallow breathing I could hear for the other side of the shelves. I didn't want to look up and chance him seeing that I knew he was there, not yet. But I had also left gaps in the books down low and I saw his shoes through one of those. I shivered again, and my own breathing became shallower in turn as I slid my fingers higher on my leg, tugging first on the garter strap, then sliding down the inner side of my raised thigh and then up under my skirt. I let my fingertips brush along my pantyless vagina and I felt my blood rush.

I jerked my hand from between my legs as if suddenly realizing that I was getting carried away. I let my fingers dangle once more in my cleavage as I looked to my side toward the aisle and the rest of the store, making a show of listening.

I let my eyes drift back to the book and resumed letting my fingers unbutton my blouse until it was completely open. The tails were still tucked tightly in the waist of my skirt, so I tugged gently on one side, loosening it enough to where it hung open enough to fully expose my breast. The demi cups of loose white lace were cut so low that they barely covered the bottoms of my nipples. I let my fingers tease at the exposed, pink, achingly erect love button on my exposed breast. I fanned myself with the book and teased at the other side of my blouse.

I reached up behind my head and tugged the hairpin free. I shook my head gently as my hair spilled out and down around my face and shoulders in unconscious fashion. I had practiced this little move in the mirror about twenty times the previous night. I delicately placed the pin in my book as a mark and set the book aside, as if for just a moment. Bernadette would have to get out of her current dilemma of which stallion to blow first and which too fuck first without me.

Was Rog touching himself? God, I wanted him to be touching himself. I imagined spreading my skirt wide and fingering myself under his watching eye. He would finally open his pants, take out his cock, and be unable to restrain himself from jacking off as well.

That little fantasy could be a problem. It might be hard to sell cum-soaked gardening books. Besides, I didn't want to share his cum with any books, thank you.

Instead, I slowly, deliberately raised my gaze to where I knew his eyes would be. There he was, hunched over just a little bit to spy on me. The gap in the books on the shelf in front of him was nearly a foot wide. So was the gap on the shelf on my side, but the gaps were offset, and he only had four inches or so to peek through. I had wanted him to work a little.

Our eyes met, and his widened in panic. I just smiled and held his gaze until I was sure he was still rooted to the spot. Then I tugged the tails of my blouse free and slid the garment off my shoulders, letting it slide to the ground behind me. By now I was pretty sure he wasn't going to run away, so I let my gaze drift downward again. I let my fingers run over my breasts, tracing their outlines and teasing at my nipples. I slid my hands lower and unfastened the waist of my skirt, I slowly pulled the front wide open, letting him see at last that I wore no underwear. I heard an audible, very gratifying gasp from behind the books.

I had earlier left a book on the floor back here. I turned away from Rog and bent down quite slowly to pick it up. Then I stood on the rolling stool I had braced on earlier and stretched up to reshelve the volume on the top shelf. A brief, quiet moan came from behind me, just loud enough to hear. I turned my head over my shoulder and smiled back at Rog. The power I held over his enraptured gaze was intoxicating.

But it HAD been a while for me. I wanted much more than his gaze right then.

"I feel you watching me," I said softly. "I felt you watching me before. I like it. Do you like watching me?" I asked, finally inviting him to speak.

"Yes," Rog said slowly, his voice equal parts shame and hunger.

"I like watching you too, Rog," I said, stepping down from the stool and turning full on to face him. "Would you come around here so I can watch more of you?" He took a deep breath and stepped around the end of the shelves. I looked at him as he came into view, tall and desirable, but hesitant. The front of his khakis were quite gratifyingly distended. He clearly wanted to use his hands to hide that fact, but he couldn't figure out a way that wouldn't look ridiculous.

He swallowed and spoke, "I'm sorry to be spying on you, it's just... you're so... oh my God, you're beautiful. I couldn't help myself, I had to follow you." I smiled and he rushed on, "I know it's wrong, but..."

"Wrong?" I cut him off. "Wrong, Rog? I've discovered I really like having you watch me. Do you think I came back here to strip down like this for some reason other than locking your hungry gaze on me?" Rog was still hanging back at the end of the aisle. I was beginning to worry. I wanted the heady feel of having him in my thrall, but I also wanted to see some assertiveness from him. Would he get his shit together, or was I going to have to tell him to do everything. That idea had some appeal, I'll admit, but not as much as a collaboration.

I waved him toward me, letting some of my impatience sound in my voice. "Come closer! I want to see you too."

He paused for one more second, before the dumbfounded expression on his face finally clicked into a grin. He took a few steps closer to me and I could see his spine straighten. It had been pretty straight before, but now, at last, he was posturing himself. Unbidden, he tugged his shirt up and off over his head. I loved the view of his torso as he revealed it to me. He was no chiseled masterpiece of muscle like the two hunks on the cover of my book, but his spare frame was fit enough, and there was not an ounce of belly fat on him. I smiled a little, and let my tongue slip barely free to wet my lips.