The Librarian – An Intimate Introduction

This is part one of The Librarian Series. You can find part 2 here and part 3 here.

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I first saw her while designing the new community gardens. She was exquisite in her black pencil skirt and white button-down. The timeless ensemble was paired with stockings; I could tell from the lacy tops that barely peeked out the bottom of her skirt and 4-inch pumps. She oozed class and a form of perfection not often seen in women so young and wore it with confidence. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as round hips swayed back and forth as she sauntered into the library, arms full of books.

With just that glimpse, she was etched into my mind, burned into my retinas, forever to grace me with her loveliness. By days’ end, I knew I’d have a tough time shaking the thought of her, having already glazed the side of my shower twice. My hand was sure getting a workout, never mind my cock. If masturbation really did make you go blind as my grandmother always said, I was going to need an eye doctor and soon.

This was my third trip to the library this week. It was only Wednesday. I came first on Sunday, but it was her regularly scheduled day off. I learned that great piece of knowledge after asking the mediocre replacement where the usual cheerful blonde was. She was a bit apprehensive, and a lot rude. I guess I should have worded my question differently.

Monday was the second day as I knew she would be on. The replacement finally gave in and told me so. I waited at the door for the neon sign to come alive and the caretaker to take care of the lock. Even then, I waited a few minutes more, not wanting to seem too enthusiastic. Which is silly, she doesn’t know I’m here to see her. As she deals with hundreds of book lovers every day, she probably doesn’t even know I exist.

I’ve never been an avid reader, preferring to be outdoors. But for a chance to get a look at her, I can pretend. I’ve resorted to putting sports and gardening magazines inside books as we did back in my school days. Some things never change, I guess.

I skipped Tuesday as I would have had to come directly from work. My profession leaves me a bit grimy and unkempt, so I thought it better to stay away. But today I have the day off, or at least I planned the day off. I would usually be working but I had to see her. The blonde with the doe eyes, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and ruby red lips has undeniably gotten under my skin.

This morning I take my usual seat across from her so I can watch her work without distraction. She does this cute thing where she bites her lip when she concentrates and so many times, I’ve had the desire to grab her by the chin and lick the bite away. Just thinking about it makes my manhood stir and I force myself to look anywhere else. It’s short-lived though. Her appeal draws me to her like a moth to a flame.

As I watch her over the top of the book in hand, title unknown, she uncrosses her stocking-clad legs and then switching limbs, recrosses them. It’s fast and I don’t get a glimpse of anything more than a thin strip of red fabric, but it’s enough. My imagination is in full force. What hides behind that crimson façade, I need to know.

I’m examining her legs, not paying attention to her above the desk portions at all. Her toe is tapping. I watch a while until deciding toe-tapping isn’t all that entertaining, I trail my gaze up to her round hips, past her thin waist and generous bosom. Her pulse flutters at the base of her biteable neck and I take note before glancing over her glossy mouth, pert nose, finally settling on her eyes.

I audibly gasp as I see her gaze is settled on me. Here I thought I was being so sneaky, but she’s looking right at me, a single eyebrow raised. I smile and do my best to act nonchalant, looking back down at my pseudo-pages.

Keeping my head down but returning to my view of her over the top of the page, I find her no longer at her desk. I look around, but it’s like she’s vanished. I do a double-take and find the cart that’s used for restocking the shelves is gone too. She must be with it.

Closing my book, I tuck it under my arm, eager to go find where she is. I feel like a bit of a stalker checking each aisle, like the last 3 days weren’t enough of an indicator. I’ve almost given up when I find the cart at the far rear corner of the library, in the reference section. Being so early in the day, it’s empty, although, judging by the titles on the spines, this area can’t be very popular.

I approach the cart, but she’s not with it. Checking the surrounding aisles, they come up empty too. Scratching my head, I decide that maybe I should have stayed where I was, and turning, I stop abruptly. She’s standing right there, less than a foot away. In her heels, she’s still a good head shorter than me, but that does nothing to diminish her presence. Up close, she’s even more amazing and I can’t help but do anything but smile.

“Wipe that grin off your face, Gardener!” She says with authority and an accent that steals the air from my lungs.

I feel my smile slip and then become a frown. I’m about to say something when she holds up her petite hand, making it clear she does not want to hear what I have to say.

“Yes, I know who you are. And that you’ve been coming to watch me. Second time this week, but the part-time girl told me you were here on Sunday too. It seems to be becoming a bit of a habit, hmmm?”

She lowers her hand, and her arched eyebrow is once again raised in my direction. I feel like I should be ashamed, but I’m anything but. Actually, I’m quite aroused. This beautiful woman on a warpath may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She has one perfectly manicured hand on a hip, the other is being used to emphasize her words. I suddenly have the vision of those long red nails scratching down my chest and I find myself shuffling in place, trying to hide my arousal.

Her hand comes out and snatches the book from under my arm. She examines the title and barks a laugh.

“Toilet Paper Origami? Are you serious?” I can’t tell if she’s laughing or offended. I also feel like I should read book covers before using them as a front. This is just getting worse. She flips open the book and my copy of sports illustrated falls to the floor. She looks at me before bending over to pick it up, her breasts almost spilling out of the top of her blouse. I lick my lips as I glimpse a lace bra, the same shade as her panties.

“Oh, thank god. I thought you were seriously reading about how to fold toilet paper. Sports is much better. Well, let’s see Gardener. How many transgressions have you committed? First, accosting the poor girl on Sunday. Then, eye-fucking me all day Monday. You were very distracting. Next is skipping Tuesday and making me wait all day for you. Today is Wednesday and the list just grows. Hiding magazines in books, even bad ones, definitely deserves punishment. Watching me work, yet again, is another cause, and looking at my knickers as I cross my legs is a third. Following me to the back corner, and I’m sure we can come up with another if we really try?”

I don’t know what to say. Should I say anything? Should I just take whatever she’s wanting to give? Wait, she was waiting for me yesterday? Punishment?

My mouth opens but immediately closes. She’s said so many things, I don’t even know where to start. I do know however that the word punishment made my cock grow to half-mast. What is that about?

“Punishment?” I ask stupidly. My mind is stuck. I picture her smacking my ass repeatedly and I can’t help but grin.

“Back to smiles, are we Gardener? Did something I say amuse you? Or maybe we’re smiling about the rather large problem in your pants?” She looks at my crotch to emphasize her point. My eyes follow hers, but I already know what we will find; a tent pitched in the middle of the library.

Before I can say anything, she steps forward and takes my package in her small hands. She squeezes me through the fabric, and I feel myself jump at her touch. I look into her eyes, but she says nothing, simply raises that eyebrow at me again. Swallowing, I gulp down the groan that threatens to leave me. I think I may be in over my head.

She continues to massage my manhood through my pants, bringing me to full height. Then asks in a sultry manner, “Do you need some help with this? Need someone to take care of you?”

“Is that an offer?” I ask timidly.

“That depends Gardener. Are you willing to accept your punishment?”

A large part of me wants to say no, that I’m not into receiving punishment. But she’ll know I’m lying as my cock is so stiff at the thought, I think I may need to sit down.

“For the chance to see where this goes, yes, I’ll take my punishment,” I say with a smile.

She releases me and steps back. “Good, your punishment is not climaxing until I next see you. I’m off at seven. Pick me up.” And with that she walks away, leaving me standing there, my jaw on the floor, and my cock pointing towards the ceiling.

I’m sitting in my car before I realise, I still don’t know her name.

See part two of The Librarian series: Dinner and a Show here.

To see who else is writing about libraries for Wicked Wednesday, hit the bullseye.

For more erotic stories as a series, see Making a Masochist Part 1, or Fiction or more shorts.