The Librarian

"The library is closing in 15 minutes."

The young man nodded and rubbed his eyes. It was later than he thought, apparently. This research project was steadily draining away his soul; with every annotation and quote (citations included) his bones felt a little heavier and he lost a bit more will to live. Why had he chosen such an obscure topic? The table (which could seat six people) was completely covered with books, photocopies, index cards and paper coved with notes that were impossible to read. Almost all of the material before him had tantalizingly promised information on his subject, but in reality only teased him with oblique references and long, sidestepping passages about how obscure the idea was. He was beginning to wonder if anyone had actually done field research on this at all.

"Will you be checking out any of these?"

He looked up- he had forgotten about the poor librarian, who now eyed the plethora of encyclopedias with a measure of resignation. She must not have been the same librarian as this afternoon, he thought, looking at her; he didn't recognize her and wouldn't have thought she worked here were it not for the shiney, plastic ID card. She was short, but she was also quite thin which gave her the illusion of appearing taller. When she looked pointedly at her watch, he saw that her nails were bitten.

"No, no," he replied, standing, "I won't be taking any of these." Bloody useless literature.

"Oh," she said, her jawline becoming hard. Suddenly, her eyes, which had been on his face, slid to one side and stared over his shoulder. He realized, taking a quick look around at the inactivity of the library, that she must be the last librarian on duty- she would have to reshelve all these books herself and many of them were from top shelves. He thought about her working late because of him; then he thought about going home to his cold, unsympathetic computer screen to type up the day's worthless research.

"Would you like help putting these away?"

She regarded him sharply with piercing hazel eyes. He shuffled his feet and brushed sandy brown hair out of his eyes, trying to look respectable. She stared at him a long time, clearly debating with herself as she looked him up and down one last time, taking in all six-foot-three of him before briskly turning on her heel saying, "I'll go get a cart."

She returned with one standard-issue beige library cart (squeaky wheel included) just after he finished collecting his notes and stowing them in his bag. She began to stack thick reference books on it with a rhythmic, mechanical intensity. He stepped around the table, scooping up books as he went and dumping them on the cart with a loud metallic crash. He earned himself a dark look from the corner of his companion's eyes but she said nothing and finished loading.

Pushing the cart ahead of her, the little librarian headed for the elevator with quick steps. She was wearing heels with her short, grey skirt. Flat-footed, she wouldn't even reach his chest. It made him feel like a giant.

"We'll start on the top floor," she said.

"Ok."

They waited obediently until the elevator arrived and they could cram in together with the full cart. This elevator, in addition to being unusually small, was also unusually slow. It felt awkward to stand in complete silence until the fourth floor, so Thomas fished around for something to say.

"My name's Thomas."

"Emily," she answered after a pointed silence, glancing sidelong at him.

"Nice to meet you."

Ding!

Thomas followed her to the section of the library dealing with medicine. The college no longer had a large medical program, so these books were largely neglected. Thomas grabbed a few books at random and started the exciting game of seek-and-find against his arch-nemesis, the Dewey decimal system. Everything seemed to be on the bottom shelf, so he knelt to shelve them, but was startled by another loud, metallic noise.

Emily was standing on one of those rickety library stepstools with the unreliable wheels. She stood on her toes to reach the top shelf even as the stool wobbled wildly under her. Thomas quickly got up and stood behind her, afraid that she would fall, but she waved him off, so he took a step back. He took another book from the cart and immediately saw its place on the second shelf right in front of him. He reached down to put it back, then realized that he was kneeling beside a woman in a short skirt. He hesitated before standing again, not wanting her to notice that he was in an opportune position, but still uncompromisingly struck by overwhelming curiosity. Carefully, he rose and looked ever-so-slightly to the right as he did so.

Smooth, pale skin... gently curving calves... warm, soft thighs. Thomas's fingers itched to confirm his hypothesis. He saw a tiny scar about the size of his thumbnail right in the place where creamy thigh becomes firm ass. He swallowed and finished standing. He busied himself with the books until there were no more to put back in this section and Emily came down from her lofty perch.

"Periodicals are on the third floor. History is on the second, I think," he said, trying both to recall his first journey through the book stacks and to keep his voice from cracking.

"Mmm." She leaned over the cart briefly to check the numbers on the book spines, but also unintentionally afforded Thomas an excellent view of the contents of her white blouse. Apparently, she was wearing a lacy pink bra on the job. He closed his eyes and tried to keep the impure thoughts to a minimum... at least for the next minute or two.

One elevator trip later, Thomas was sliding old, fragile newspapers onto those weird bamboo-stick organizers while Emily shelved magazines a safe distance away. He had accidentally stood on the same side of the cart as her in the elevator and felt the heat radiating from her body the whole, painfully slow, ride down. He wondered how hot her skin would be to the touch, how she would feel under her skirt around the... no! You still have at least one more elevator ride with her, he thought. Try not to make an ass out of yourself just yet.

He snapped back to reality in time to see that he was about to tear the front page of a paper from 1951. The newspapers were returned with considerably more care after that.

"Are you finished?" Emily stood with her arms crossed under her breasts and a flushed face.

"Yes. Well... almost. This is the last one."

"Good." She turned away briskly, the hem of her skirt flaring out (hadn't that skirt been longer before?) and retrieved the cart.

Thomas nodded and mentally steeled himself.

The first elevator ride down had been hard, but the second one was torture. He became very aware of Emily's perfume that threatened to drive him insane. As if to taunt him further, she acquired an itch on her ankle that required her to bend over to scratch. I am going to hell, Thomas thought, turning his face away and enjoying the cold metal interior of the elevator against his cheek.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they were safely parted in the bookshelves and he was free of her immediate allure. This was becoming difficult. She was just the sort of girl to reject him for an innocent cup of coffee, much less tolerate a desperate grope in the history section. His jeans tightened just thinking about it. Her pert breast in his palm... her lips parted and breathing heavily... a splash of red across her cheeks. Thomas smacked his forehead lightly against a shelf and suppressed a groan.

"Excuse me."

Thomas jerked upright. Emily stood there with two heavy books in each hand, clearly waiting for him to get out of the way. Thomas tried to look as if he hadn't just been thinking about fucking her and stumbled back until she had enough room to once again bend over (hadn't this girl ever knelt?) and put them away. He stood there like a giant dumb... something until she straightened and gave him a quizzical look.

"Are you feeling well?"

"...I ... Uh, yes."

"Ok." She turned to go.

"Emily... I..."

"Yes?"

He took a large, lumbering step towards her. His brain told him that she should have run away, but instead she seemed to stand taller and lean in towards him. He seized her by the shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. It was an innocent enough kiss for how oppressively amorous he felt — he even managed to keep his tongue in his own mouth where it belonged — but he felt instantly after that he had grossly overstepped his bounds. He released her instantly as if she had burned him.

Or, rather... he would have had she not passionately returned his kiss with an ardent embrace.

His brain was slow in realizing what was happening, but his body certainly wasted no time. He crushed her mouth to his, swallowing her kiss with greedy hunger and let his hands sear her body, touching her everywhere he thought he might be allowed. Her fingernails raked his scalp as she took large, messy clumps of hair in her grasp, seeking to pull him closer and give her leverage on him. One of her legs twined around his.

Finally, Thomas allowed himself to test out his earlier theory and stroke her thighs, brushing his thumb against the raised scar before moving on to cup her ass under the skirt. Each of her little gasps, though muffled by their kiss, was exquisite. He felt her hands fumble at her chest to unbutton her blouse and give him a proper view of her tantalizing pink underwear. One of his hands easily engulfed an entire breast, but he remained gentle enough to feel the raised bud through the lace and graze it with a forefinger.

Emily broke their kiss with a sharp gasp. Thomas took this opportunity to trail fiery kisses down her slender throat and across one collarbone. This bra had clasps in the front so precious minutes need not be wasted fumbling to free it. He put this extra time to good use employing his tongue to sweep broad circles around one free nipple while his hand caressed the other. Her hands twitched in his hair and she made high 'ah!' sounds every time his tongue raked directly over the bud. He endeavored to produce this sound as many times as possible, pausing once to switch breasts.

When a strangled "oh... god..." escaped her lips, Thomas couldn't stand it anymore. He rose from his half-crouched stance and took her with him, easily lifting her in his arms. He strode quickly into the next aisle where the convenient book cart waited and set her on it, rolling it close to the bookshelf. Here, he fell to his knees and kissed the inside of her thigh. He ignored the hesitant whimper in Emily's throat, instead pulling up the hem of her skirt to reveal the matching pink pair of panties.

Slowly, perhaps to give her a moment to compose herself, Thomas's fingertips trailed light lines up the insides of her thighs. He smelled her heady, thick scent even from this distance and it made his cheeks burn. He contemplated his next move for a moment and looked into her eyes to steady himself. Emily met his gaze with determined steadiness, even as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her thong. He waited, hardly breathing, until he received the tiniest of nods before removing the article of clothing entirely.

Her scent was overwhelming, and it became obvious what he intended. Thomas resumed his line of kisses, starting above the knee and working his way inward until he was brushing his lips against hers. Emily's hands gripped her thighs so hard that her knuckles were white. Thomas took either hand in his own and reattached them to his hair so she wouldn't bruise herself. He then gladly set about the task of soaking her sex with his saliva. Above him, somewhere, she moaned, but her taste was enthralling. He lapped eagerly everywhere he could reach, driving his tongue into her as far as he was able as she tightened around him.

Suddenly, he withdrew, producing a frustrated moan. Thomas rocked back on his knees, meeting her eyes again and strongly suppressing the desire to have his way with her old-school style (bashing her over the head with a club, unnecessary), but unable to proceed in any other fashion. He tried desperately to think of what he could do that wouldn't make him seem like an insensitive oaf.

Emily, cheeks flaming, came to his rescue. Carefully, she dismounted the library cart, unintentionally swinging her hips toward him and rolling another dizzying wave of her scent over him. She pushed him back until he sat flush against the bookshelf behind him. With agonizing daintiness, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, releasing some of the oppressive tension and heat from his crotch. Mouth agape, Thomas watched as she took his member in both hands and stroked it lightly. Too lightly- it felt good, but she was ultimately ineffective. He tried not to whine like a puppy.

She leaned down and planted a burning kiss on his head before taking him into her mouth. He could have cried with relief. Her tongue swirled deftly around his tip. She sucked his tip tenderly and took him deeper. Each time he thought she had been filled as much as she was able, she would swing her head back and then take more, pressing the flat of her tongue to his underside. Were he standing, Thomas would have collapsed, but thankfully, he had only to lean back and watch while she sucked, licked and kissed him.

Emily had yet one more surprise for him. Keeping one hand firmly on his shaft to help continue to guide him into her mouth, she snaked her other hand into his pants to cup his balls gently in her fingers. Thomas couldn't suppress the half-moan-half-gasp in his throat as she softly rolled them in her fingertips. Desperately, he tried to think of his research. Calipers... Leeches... Holy symbols... Holy fuck this feels good... No! Must save face... Thomas sat up a little straighter and reached out to fondle a breast. This produced a hitch in the rhythm of Emily's swinging head; an opportunity that Thomas quickly seized.

He took the tiny librarian in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and locked her ankles behind his back as he urgently pressed her against the shelves. He could feel her heat against him, her wetness dripping down his shaft. Thomas swallowed and tried to calm himself, but his hands shook, his face burned and he didn't know if he would be able to control himself.

For the second time, Emily saved the night. A cool hand brushed his brow, drawing his eyes to hers, and rested lightly on the back of his neck. She steered him to her entrance and let only enough weight fall on it as to promise ecstasy. Thomas needed no prompting to thrust sharply upward and take her all at once. Emily's head fell softly to one side with her red lips parted. He took her again with one powerful stroke. This time, she sighed and arched her back. He took her hips in his hands and drove himself into her again and again. Her sighs became gasps, which became sharp cries that made his skin tingle. She clutched his back and buried her face in his shoulder, panting and riding out his furious lust.

He kissed her shoulder, stroked her ass and drove forward with every fiber of his being. There was nothing in the world he could want more than to feel this right now. His eyes rolled up and squeezed shut, holding off the black at the edges of his vision. He remained vaguely aware of the sounds the woman in his arms was making, but concentration was proving difficult... if not impossible. He shuddered when a sudden grip seized his spine like a giant, electric hand and bent him double around Emily. She tightened around him, pulling him off the cliff of reality into the abyss of oblivious pleasure.

Luckily, he kept himself from crushing Emily en route to the floor, otherwise holding her loosely in one arm might have been more awkward. They lay in the aisle together, recovering in silence. Thomas's eyelids grew heavy, but the floor was quite uncomfortable and it was beginning to cause pain in the back of his head. However, he waited until Emily sat up, not wanting to disturb her. She stood up and brushed herself off, rearranging her clothing until it was decent again. She glanced at him as he fastened his jeans and quickly pushed the cart away without a word. Did he do something wrong?

He found her in the next aisle, reshelving the last few books with renewed vigor. There was clearly nothing left to be done, so Thomas stood there awkwardly, looking dazed and taking up too much space. He followed her and the cart back to the elevator and, after a silent elevator ride, to the front desk.

"The library is open tomorrow from 10 AM to 9 PM," she said politely, typing something on the computer, "It's a Friday, so we close early."

Thomas glanced at his watch. "It's only 10:30 now... I mean, I know you're busy but... I mean, if you want... My apartment is only a few blocks away and I'd like it if you came over for coffee... or something." Damnit, why did he have to blush now?

The sound of typing paused. Emily looked at him, the green in her eyes glittering.

"Or maybe tomorrow!" he added without grace, trying to save the situation.

Slowly, like the moon sailing out from behind a dark mountain, she smiled. "I would love to go home with you. Would you like to help me lock up?"

"Of course!"