Tome of Desire Ch. 03

The next day Ian was looking at the clock in his new office. It was a digital clock, which seemed an odd choice for the otherwise classically decorated room. It currently showed 10:17, the little dots in the middle, separating the minutes from the hours, were happily blinking away, and the seconds with it. The office was, besides the clock, very cozy, with old and dark wooden furniture. The room was dominated by a large mahogany desk placed in the middle and behind it a dark leather office chair. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with classical literature, and there even was a couch, probably used more than once for a midday nap. This felt more like an old-fashioned and eccentric literature professor's office than anything else, Ian thought. Then full of anticipation, he began to work. He was going to enjoy his time here, despite the odd and obviously cheap electronic clock.

Getting set up had been a breeze. Marcus had prepared everything, so he had just shown Ian to the office and told him that he would come to get him for lunch. On the table was a docking station for his laptop, the right model, of course, a large screen, keyboard, mouse, and an access card with Ian's picture on it. Back home, it would have taken at least a week before the IT department had everything ready and another week before the access card had been coded with the correct permissions. But everything was in order, so there was nothing left to do but to start working. Reopening the email from yesterday, Ian began downloading all the scanned documents. While trivial to describe, his task was difficult, bordering on the impossible to do: Understand the texts and translate them if possible. He had discussed this at length with Amara before coming to Rome, but she had not seemed daunted by the challenge ahead of them. Even when he had insisted that he needed context, something to understand what the texts were about, and a lot of it, to have any chance at the task, she had just nodded and assured him she would help get all he needed. Marcus had told Ian that he was occupied with another project and wouldn't work directly with him. Still, there would be the typical talks and discussions between ph.d. students, even if Marcus couldn't commit time to help Ian, not right now at least.

As the downloads were completed, Ian began loading all the texts into a database and preparing scripts to do some basic statistics of the documents. He was quickly engrossed in his work and stopped only hours later when there was a knock on this door. Marcus was there to take him for lunch and apologized for being late. Looking at the digital clock, it now showed 13:57. The work had consumed his mind, and he had lost track of time. Interrupted, he was aware of just how hungry he had become. Ian followed Marcus to a nearby cafe for a simple but filling lunch. Ian had pasta and bacallá, a fish that Marcus didn't know the English name for. After yesterday and today, Ian had learned that Marcus was easy to get along with, a happy and untroubled soul. Already enjoying his company, Ian counted himself lucky for such a pleasant colleague.

During the next few days, Ian got settled into a rhythm. He would wake around 8 am, more often than not drenched in sweat. The AC of his apartment was broken, and outside, the heatwave kept up. Next, Ian took a cold shower in an attempt to ignore how horny Amara's unconventional welcome had left him. Then he headed to the office and worked mostly uninterrupted. Often eating by himself, trying different places all around the area for lunch and dinner without finding an immediate favorite. The scorching sun and the temperatures well above 30 degrees Celcius did not suit him at all, so after each meal, he hurried back to his well-cooled office.

Marcus had suggested they could stop by the Angelica Library on Thursday and see the three tomes on display there. The library was placed in an older part of Rome, about twenty minutes' walk from the university offices. As they neared the library entrance, the number of people in the street increased. At first, Ian guessed that they were tourists here to do a little sightseeing, but when they entered the library building complex, they were swept up by the masses and part of a long queue lining up to the library and the artifacts displayed there.

"This is crazy!" Ian exclaimed, overwhelmed at the size of the queue, but Marcus just smiled, "I mean, the tomes really are something unique, but that they have this wide an appeal is astounding. I could understand if this was the first day or maybe the first week, but they have on display for almost three months now, right?"

Marcus nodded at his question. "One curious fact is that they have found some kind of preserving chemical in the stones used to build the chamber that contained the tomes. That is why they are in such good condition."

"Really? Do we know if that was intentional?"

"No, I don't think it was, just a stroke of luck - a tiny miracle," Marcus laughed.

When they walked in through the old doors, the crowd's murmuring ebbed out, and calmness and silence filled the halls instead. An eerie silence, Ian thought. Slowly they neared the exhibition area, where three glass showcases each displayed a single tome. The queue led them past each of the displays in sequence. As they came near the first display, which contained an almost one-foot thick leatherbound tome, a strange sensation filled Ian. He felt strong and confident. He could take on any challenge, any opponent. Straightening his back and holding his head high, his confidence overflowed. What is going on? Ian wondered. He looked at Marcus, who had tightened his fists, each knuckle turning white, as if ready to strike his hand through the display. The tome inside the display was highlighted by a few small spotlights and opened around the middle. The first thing that struck Ian was the near-perfect condition of the artifact. This was a book hundreds of years old, but it looked almost unaffected by age. Had Marcus not told about the preserving chemicals, he would be sure he was looking at a fake. As he came closer, he could recognize the script he had been studying so intently for the last few days. It filled the left side of the book with almost no margin. As if each page had to be used to its fullest. The right-hand side made him stop dead in his tracks; a large picture filled the page, something that looked like a knight on a prancing horse in the middle of a fierce battle. Ian blinked, and when he looked again, the picture was gone. He kept staring at the page now filled with the strange symbols he was trying to decipher. In the end, the people behind him pushed him forward and out of view of the old book.

"Marcus, were there any pictures in any of the tomes?" Ian whispered, his heart still beating hard.

"Well, if there were, you would know, wouldn't you? Didn't you have access to all the scanned pages?"

"Well, I was just thinking that something might be missing."

"You know Amara, she always makes sure people do their job properly, so I doubt that is the case. I, for one, haven't seen any. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," mumbled Ian. Seeing pictures that disappeared when you blinked was a skill he was not keen on discussing. The line moved them closer to the second book, and Ian felt a calmness spreading throughout his body and mind. It almost seemed like time itself slowed down, all worries and concerns gone, Ian just felt happy and at peace. He could stay this way forever. The serene experience made him completely forget to look at the book and only noticed when he had passed it, and the feeling waned. But then it was too late. Behind Ian, the throng of people behind them made it impossible to turn around and go back.

The tome in the last display pulled at him, and the pull got stronger as he moved closer. He had to fight a bit to resist it and not to push through the bodies before him. The tome was about the size of a typical introductory college book and the cover blazing red, the script so tiny that he could barely read it. He felt an urge to touch it, and his hand moved like it had a will of its own towards the glass. The no touching signs seemed of little importance, and his hand and arm stretched to the display. The moment his fingers touched the glass, a series of images flashed through his mind. They were images of Amara and Julia, but not ordinary portraits, nor taken from his memories of them. They were of an altogether different kind and character. Naughty, erotic, and intensely sexual in nature! Both women were naked and teasingly covering their breasts with their hands and fingers. Then the images were replaced by a vision of them in a deep embrace, their hands exploring each other's bodies. They kissed, and after that, it turned to more lewd acts. First, Julia was beneath Amara, her tongue pleasuring the newly appointed professor. Amara's body was bent backward, consumed by a violent orgasm. Then a man was tied to a bed, the two women pleasured his straining and twitching cock. He was begging them to cum, but they never pushed him too far. Was it him? Was this a vision of the future or of fantasy? Ian thought, and then everything turned dark, and he felt himself falling backward.

"Hey, Ian! Are you alright?" Marcus was shaking his shoulder to rouse him, "you just fell back. I think you fainted." A pulsing pain spread from the back of Ian's head. He must have hit it hard against the marble floor. Rubbing the sore spot and then looking at his hand, no blood at least. Slowly he got to his feet. A guard came through the mass of people investigating the commotion. Ian slowly recovered and was supported first by the guard and later by Marcus. The two students left and walked carefully back towards the offices.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Marcus asked for the fifth time, and Ian repeated for the fifth time that he just needed a bit of water, and then he would be fine.

"Man, you scared me." Marcus started when Ian was walking on his own again, then fell silent, as if looking for the courage to keep talking. "Erhm, before you passed out, did you feel the warmness from the last display too?"

"Warmness?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but every time I get near it, I feel warmer, better. I guess that is why people come back all the time." Marcus looked relieved as if he had been keeping a secret for too long.

"I don't know. I passed out too fast, I guess." Ian did not feel like telling he had seen images of Amara, not to mention the hedonistic acts she was performing. "Did you feel anything from the two other books too?"

"No, only the last one. I think that one is special." Marcus felt silent for a bit, "I'm sorry, it sounds like I think the book is magical or something. Just forget about it, okay? You are sure you are alright?" Ian nodded again, and they spent the last of the trip back to the university in quiet.

Back in Ian's office, Ian laid down on the couch, and Marcus brought him a glass of water. "I will check on you later, do not leave without telling me!" Marcus insisted before finally excusing himself and leaving Ian alone.

Ian spent the next hour on the couch, going over everything again. The tomes had affected both him and Marcus, but the effect seemed much stronger on him. Had he imagined it? Was this just a by-product of hitting his head after passing out? He grabbed a pad and pencil from the desk and started jotting down everything he could remember, he even tried to draw a quick sketch of the picture he had seen, but it kept slipping from his mind. Marcus had also not noticed the effect from the first two displays, even if Ian had seen him tighten his fist.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Amara came to check on him. She had, of course, heard everything from Marcus. So again, Ian found himself explaining that he was indeed fine a couple of times more. Amara soon sensed the annoyance in his voice and briefly reminded him not to work too hard before turning the conversation to the script inside instead. She had taken a seat in the chair opposite his desk, and her short skirt had ridden up her legs. Feeling a sudden tightness in his pants, Ian wished he was behind the big wooden desk instead of lying on the couch. He explained that there was not much to tell. The script was complex, and he shared what he had done but honestly admitted that he had no clue what any of it meant yet.

Content with the update, Amara started to explain what she had been working on. "I'm still trying to find some more context, but the sources I come across are very unreliable, a few of them do speak of the texts and has some references to what should be described in them, but I'm trying to sort through it before passing it on to you. I think you agree, right?"

"Sure, I mean, it is no use if the accounts aren't accurate anyway, then it might just confuse us more than it helps, and right now, I have more than enough to do, so it is not an immediate need, but of course, at some point, it will become necessary."

"Of course, and just to be clear, this is a shared project. I know I might seem busy, but understand that this is by far the most important project for me." She looked him straight in the eyes as she said this, and as to underline her point, she paused a bit. "Never hesitate to call on me if there is anything, Ian. I will make time."

"Thanks. That is good to know..." Ian began to reply, but Amara had uncrossed and crossed her legs, and from his vantage point, half lying down on the couch, this meant flashing him a very brief look at a pink pair of panties. The view made Ian stop talking, and he took a deep breath.

"Are you looking up my skirt?" Amara exclaimed with faked surprise.

"No! Of course not," Ian denied the obvious.

Smiling, Amara continued, "you don't have to deny it, Ian. I like it when you look. You still remember the car ride?" Amara asked as she rose and headed over to the couch. Suddenly feeling very hot, Ian looked at the pad he had been scribbling notes on and sat up a little more.

"Yeah, you seemed to drive very fast."

"Oh, is that what you remember? Nothing else?" Amara unbuttoned a button on her white shirt and then one more. Leaning over him, she showed an excessive amount of cleavage, her matching pink bra pushing her voluminous breasts up and together. She carefully took the pen and notepad from Ian. "I remember something else from that car ride, something I still haven't gotten a good look at." She smiled and stared at his crotch, his hardening cock clearly showing down along the left side. "Stand up. I need to get a better look," she ordered. Pulling him to his feet, she took his place on the couch, her hands moved to his pants.

"Amara! Stop! What are you doing?" Ian objected, looking around nervously, but they were, of course, alone in the office. Ian's body did not comply with the commands his brain tried to send, and he stood frozen in front of her. Amara's hands worked quickly and deftly unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down, and they fell on the floor.

"So you are wearing underwear today," the words hang in the air for a bit as she looked up at Ian and bit her lip.

"We are in the office. We shouldn't..." Ian struggled with the words.

Amara leaned in and squeezed his cock through the boxers ignoring his objection. Then she pulled them down over Ian's cock, which sprang free as the elastic band snapped over it. They joined the pants bunched up at his feet, and Amara grabbed hold of his now naked cock and pulled Ian closer. Slowly her hand moved up and down Ians cock. She licked her fingers and made the head wet.

"You have a lovely cock, Ian. I bet your past girlfriends must have been worshipping this daily. I know I would."

"I... haven't... had... a... girlfriend."

"Uh, I am the first to see this lovely specimen? Do you like this?"

"Oh fuck," Ian moaned and nodded fast.

"Before you lose the ability to answer questions altogether, I have to ask one more: Have you kept your promise?"

"What?"

Amara's sharp nails wrapped themselves around Ian's balls and gave a gentle squeeze, sending a tiny spike of pain to his unfocused mind. "Your promise, Ian. Have you kept it?"

"Oh, God! Yes, I haven't touched it at all," he gasped between his moaning, "or well... aw fuck... almost not at all."

"Oh, you were allowed to touch it. Just not cum." Amaras hand stroked him faster now. "But perhaps it is better that you don't play with it at all, to make sure there are no accidents."

"Oh, yes! Of course! " Ian was quickly feeling the days of abstinence and agreed without hesitation. Anything to make her keep going.

"Yes, what?" Amara's hand stopped stroking, waiting for his reply, her other hand slowly caressing his balls.

"Yes, I won't... I won't touch..." Ian needed her to continue. Amara stroked him once more, stopped, and waited again, "... touch my cock," he finally finished his sentence.

"Good boy."

Amara continued her manipulations, now slower and with a lighter touch, but the first real touch of a woman's had was too much for the innocent student, and Ian felt the wave of an orgasm gaining strength.

"It feels so good! I'm going to cum," Ian whimpered as he started to lose control and cum, but Amara's hands had already stopped moving, and now she let go completely, and the orgasm never came. Instead, Ian's cock twitched and spasmed violently.

"Please! Please let me cum!" Ian begged loudly, and his hands went straight to his erection, intent on finishing the job, but Amara intercepted them, gave a friendly slap, and shook her head. As the twitching slowly ceased, she grabbed his cock again and resumed her teasing. Quickly pushing him back to the edge.

"Mmmmm, yes!" Ian moaned loudly, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. Preparing for what promised to be the single best moment in his life, and then nothing, Amara had stopped again. Before he could complain, she reached up, laid a finger across his lips, instructing him to be silent, and then continued.

Ian had trouble standing and backed slowly to the desk leaning on it for support. Amara followed and kneeled between his legs and began anew. She edged him over and over, with less and less time between, until she was keeping him on the very edge of orgasm with just a finger slowly rubbing the sensitive point below the tip of his cock. Finally, when another touch would send Ian over, she stopped. Then rose quickly and pecked Ian on the cheek, then leaned in and gave his earlobe a gentle lick. In a husky whisper, she told him, "I know you want to cum so bad, and soon it will be time, but not here; it would be too risky, I'm sure you understand. Perhaps when you have a little breakthrough, we can celebrate that?"

Ian nodded even if he didn't mean it, his cock strutting, begging for attention on its own. Amara collected her things, buttoned her shirt, and said, "you better get those pants back on," and with a little wave, she left him alone.

That evening back in the apartment, Ian had difficulties sleeping. His mind was on the afternoon visit from Amara. Marcus had been by later to make sure he was okay, but that visit was barely registered and had since been all but forgotten. His head was consumed by lust for Amara. Still, he could not get her logic. She had undressed him in the office, pushed him closer to orgasm than he had ever experienced before, God she had even made him beg to cum, but cumming was too risky? It didn't make sense. Dammit, he adjusted his frustratingly hard cock. She seemed to know just how to turn him on. After having twisted and turned for what felt like hours, he finally fell into an uneasy slumber.

The next day Ian did his best to ignore his morning erection and took a cold shower as usual, but nothing seemed to work. After breakfast, he checked his emails, but his mind was still stuck in the same loop as yesterday evening. Now it was replaying all of the sexual encounters he had experienced in the last days. Mostly starring his favorite professor, but occasionally a guest-appearance by Julia, the terrible flight attendant tease, broke the rhythm. Julia! The phone number! Ian had forgotten all about it again. Quickly he looked around the laptop for her note, saw it, and reached for it, but in his daydreams, Ian had moved further than he realized. The weight shift made the chair topple over, and instead of grasping the note, Ian found himself sideways on the floor. He hit his hip hard and spent a minute on his back. Reaching up, he got a hold of the piece of paper, slid back down on the floor and, studied it again. The first three numbers were still unreadable, smeared beyond recognition. The last part of the note was looking much better, the fourth and fifth digits might have been 9s or 7s, but they were definitely the same digit. Still, that gave 2000 possible numbers, a daunting task of calling all of them. Disappointed, he climbed to his feet and put the note back on the desk, and promised himself that later he would attempt to call just a few.