by Nikki Steele
“Ah… sure. Great idea,” I said. The books didn’t reach to the top of each shelf, and I was catching glimpses of flesh in jagged little outlines. His stomach was flat, I could tell that much. But was that a hint of abs? I craned surreptitiously to one side, where a low squat dictionary gave a slightly better view. Uh huh. Definitely Abs. That was his belly button for sure, and there was the trail of hair that led down-
The peep show ended as a shirt slid down and then moments later, he walked out. “You okay?” he asked, looking at me concerned. “You’ve gone all red.”
I coughed. “Must be the central heating.”
He shrugged. “I guess we shouldn’t complain.” His stomach growled, hand going to what I knew now to be rock hard abs. “I don’t mind telling you, I’m beginning to get hungry.”
My mind started to play out that t-shirt scene again. I squashed it down firmly. “Ah… sure. Me too.”
“They say that you can get by without food for something like 30 days, but everyone needs to drink water or they’ll die.”
Now I nodded, focus entirely back on the conversation. I’d read the same in a book within these very walls.
He stood up. “Do you have any buckets around here? Let’s get some of that snow inside so it can start melting.”
* * *
We were almost at the outer doors when Booker stopped. “Wait. Is that… a café?” he asked, looking toward the community eatery on our left—one side of the corridor’s windows looked in on it. “Why the hell aren’t we eating there?”
He leaned his face up against the window. “Food, drink, cakes. We have to get inside!”
I motioned to the locked door behind us. “We don’t have a key.”
Booker glanced to the door, then back to the food inside. Then back to the door again. “I think I know where the key is. Wait here.”
He ducked outside to a blast of cold air that swooped down the hallway like a ghost on a mission, returning 30 seconds later covered in white. A large rock the size of his fist was clutched in strong fingers.
“Wait! You can’t do that!”
His arm paused. “Yes I can. Have rock, will throw.” He gestured like a caveman as he spoke. “I’m sure when we explain the situation-”
“Absolutely not.” I cut him off. “We are not savages.”
“But-”
“NO!”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Well what do you suggest? That we starve?”
I sniffed. “That still doesn’t mean you can steal. Society has rules for a reason.”
“What if I pay for it then?”
It took a moment to work out what he was talking about. “The food?”
“Yes. And any damage I cause. I’m… not a poor man. I’ll pay for the window and make a sizeable donation. Sound fair?”
I thought briefly. “I guess so.”
“Good. It’s settled.” Then he winked at me. “Are you going to help?”
I pulled back. “Me? I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I don’t make a habit of breaking and entering either, trust me.”
“No, I mean, something I’m not allowed to do.”
“What, ever? You’ve never broken a rule?”
Not in three years. Not since I broke the only one that mattered. Not since I paid the price.
I threw up my hands. “I work in a library, I enforce the rules!” I forced a laugh. “I’m the bitch that tells everyone else to be quiet!”
Gently, he pulled me to him. To the window. “It’s time to change that.” He placed the rock in my hand.
“I don’t know if I can do it.” I looked at him. “Can I?”
“I told you, I’ll pay the damages and more besides.”
I hesitated. “What do I do?”
“Well, I’d suggest you back up a step or two, then throw it as hard as you can.”
I hefted the rock once. Twice.
I could do this. It had been long enough, hadn’t it?
Before I could think myself out of it, I pulled back to throw.
“Wait!” His hand seized my arm before I could launch the missile. He moved behind me, body pressing against mine, readjusting my trajectory. “Aim for the corner. Then we can reach through and undo the latch.”
I took a couple of short, sharp breaths; his cologne on my tongue, his body giving me encouragement. I could do this.
I threw the rock as hard as I could. The window shattered with a crash.
I let out a whoop as I saw the glass tinkle down around me. “My heavens! I can’t believe I just did that.” I turned to him, eyes wide. I was flying. I’d been freed. “That felt gooood. Let’s do it again!” I searched around for something else to throw.
His hands went to my shoulders with a chuckle. “Easy now Clara. No need to get overzealous, one’s enough.” He looked me in the eyes. “You’ve never really done anything like this before?”
I shook my head, eyes wide. Then, for no reason I could discern, I felt myself start to shiver. Tears began to well. “Not in a long time.”
“Easy now.” He pulled me into a hug. “That’s the adrenaline starting to wear off. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I should never have let you get so worked up about this. If I had known…”
I shook my head. How could he have known?
“You just looked so damn happy, that’s all.”
I burst into tears. He held me tight until I was finished.
Son of a gun, I was being such an idiot. Pull yourself together Clara!
I took a deep breath, then pulled away. ‘I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy.’
“Not crazy, just cute. I’ve never met anyone like you Clara. Such a tough exterior, but so different on the inside.” Hands moved gently to brush my hair back. “I’d like to see more of that. I’d like-”
I stiffened beneath him. I’d shown too much already. I couldn’t let myself get hurt again.
His voice faltered. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” His hands clapped together. “You hungry? Because I’m buying.”
CHAPTER THREE
“What now?” We sat at a cafeteria table amidst a pile of wrappers, our evening repast haphazard, but satisfying.
Booker twisted to look out the café windows. “I was actually thinking I might give the helicopter another crack.”
It was still blowing a blizzard outside. “You’re not planning on flying out in this weather, are you?” The thought formed an instant ball of tension in the pit of my stomach.
Booker shook his head. “No, no chance of that. But if the phones are still down, the helicopter radio is our best bet at getting in touch with the outside world. Not…” he looked hesitant. “Not that I want this night to end.” Then he sighed. “But I figure you can call your boyfriend, tell him you’re safe, and I can call… well, I have a couple of things I need to organize too.”
Oh yes. He still thought I had a boyfriend. “Um. I wouldn’t be too worried about things from my end. But… can I help you in any way?”
He shook his head, a strange expression flitting across his face, before he stood and walked to the counter. “Thanks, but not really I’m afraid. Even if that lost property box did have something warmer in it, it’s really a one man job. I should be fine inside the helicopter. ”
“So, I guess… I’ll see you soon?”
He nodded, moving toward the door.
“Wait!” I ran back to the library proper, fishing under the main desk. “Here. Take this.”
He took the large industrial flashlight I proffered, gratefully. “Thank you—see you soon.”
Another blast of cold air, then he disappeared into the night.
* * *
It was while looking for a broom to clean up that I saw the note Booker had left beside the till.
Sincere apologies for the damage. This is for the food, hopefully the check covers the window. Keep the change.
B
Underneath lay several hundred dollars and a
check for… I looked again. Good grief—$100,000! That was more than the entire building was worth! Who was this man that had walked into the library? I’d known he was wealthy—the helicopter kind of gave it away, but still!
I’d like him even if he didn’t have money. Not that it matters—the only reason he’s here is because of a freak storm. Guys like that don’t go for girls like me. Better that I stick to my rules. Better that I stay away. Better that I let him continue to think I have a boyfriend.
I caught sight of the shattered window.
Then again, hadn’t I just proved that some rules could be broken? That sometimes it was for the best?
I thought about that other rule I’d broken, oh so many years ago. And suddenly I knew it wasn’t time. Not yet.
How do you think it’s going to end Clara? All sunshine and rainbows? You’re an overweight librarian who hasn’t had someone even look at them in so long you can’t remember. Life isn’t a fairytale, and the pot at the end of the rainbow is full of something, but it ain’t gold.
I dumped the glass in the bin and stalked from the cafe. I needed to change location. I needed to get back to the security of my books.
CHAPTER FOUR
I pottered for a while, doing jobs that I would normally do during business hours. But my mind kept coming back to Booker. To that offhand grin; the way he’d just walked into my quiet oasis and literally destroyed it.
I found myself smiling. Smiling at his participation in my goofy dress up game. Smiling at the memory of the window shattering. Smiling at the way he had held me after, and just let me cry until I got it all out. He still didn’t know what that had meant to me—that acceptance for who I was. And I’d probably never tell him. But in my mind, I was grateful.
I picked up a book and walked down to the back shelf, sitting in my familiar aisle. It shouldn’t have been comfortable, leaning up with my back against a wall, surrounded by books. But it was—it was my one tiny little safe haven, more familiar than my room, with more happy memories to boot, too.
It was, I realized, the very aisle that Booker had gotten changed in. Another pleasant memory to associate with my corner. I thought about that again, those glimpses of flesh from between the bookshelves. Those hard, ripped abs. I wondered what his chest had looked like? I was allowed to imagine those things, wasn’t I?
In my mind, I was safe. I couldn’t be hurt.
If I closed my eyes I could see it now. See him taking off his shirt, button by button. His fingers deftly popping first one, then the other, starting at the top… no, starting at the bottom, revealing tantalizing glimpse after tantalizing glimpse of smooth, creamy flesh.
I’d be there of course. Right where I was now. He’d be undressing just for me.
The shirt fell to the floor with a smooth swish. “I want you so bad Clara.”
“I want you too.”
His pants followed next; a sexy striptease, the belt popping with a click. I could hear the zip as it was drawn downwards. I could see the thin trail of hair that led from his stomach to white Calvin Klein boxers. The pants fell to the floor with a swish, too.
“Do you like that?”
I nodded, eyeing the straining bulk hinted at so perfectly behind the white cloth. It was straining toward me. Just for me.
My hand slipped between my legs. It was warm down there. Warm for him.
“That’s it baby. That’s what I like. Just save some for me.”
I began to circle gently. It felt good, after so long—after so much frustration and built up tension. My fingers caressed smooth cotton, and then when that wasn’t enough, slipped under to touch bare skin. A shiver ran though me, a shiver at what I was doing right here on the library floor. Here I could be me. Here I could be liberated.
I gasped. Here I could be pleasured. My fingers flicked up to my mouth. I licked them slowly, thoroughly, then took them back down. Oh yes. I wouldn’t have to lick them again, not at the rate I was going. I dipped them downward, running them gently around my edges, wetting them. Wetting me. I began to circle faster, thinking about Booker. About what he would do to me.
That was it. I could feel something inside me start to glow, moving slowly from the warmth I was generating between my legs to spread throughout my body. The warmth was building slowly in my pelvis too, a spinning, whirring center of pleasure that only moments ago had been pleasing, tingling; but now was something else. Something that made me catch my breath and circle even faster. I dipped my hands down again, and then again, pressing in deeper, imagining Booker inside me.
What I wouldn’t give to have him in me right now. I could imagine him thrusting as my fingers reached their final furious crescendo, stoking the warmth into a fire that must explode at any moment inside of me.
He’d call my name as I came. As we came together; as he exploded inside me even as I did too.
I drew in a shuddering breath. I couldn’t hold it in.
I could hear him calling it right now. “Clara! Clara!”
“Clara!” The voice intruding into my fantasy from the front of the library tipped me over the edge, even as my eyes opened and I realized it was real. Oh God. Oh God!
I squeezed my eyes shut, legs clenched around my fingers as I convulsed silently on the library floor, struggling not to scream from the pleasure that was exploding within me.
My body was on fire!
He was in the library, what was I doing?
“Clara! Are you there?”
I tried to answer but it came out in a squeak. I tried again. “Down… down the back,” I called hoarsely. “Wait there, I’ll come to you.”
I stood, as quick as I was able, leaning against a bookshelf until I could stand by myself.
“Son of a biscuit” I whispered. That had been a good one. I moved, shakily, patting my hair and then, after looking down, smoothing my dress too. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and walked briskly toward the front counter, and the unknowing man who had only moments before taken me to pleasures unrivalled.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”
I cleared my throat. “Just working hard in the back room.” I changed the subject quickly. “How did the helicopter go?”
A hand went to the back of his neck. “Battery’s gone because of the cold; no luck there.”
“I’ve never been in a helicopter, did you know that?”
“Really?” Booker raised an eyebrow. “Well then madam, when we get out of here, allow me the honor of giving you your first flight.”
Lot of first’s happening tonight. “It would be my pleas-”
The library went black—so dark I couldn’t see my hands before me. I screamed.
Booker’s hands flew to mine, holding me, telling me it would be alright. His torch flicked on. “You okay?”
I nodded, thankful it was still too dark to tell the color of my face.
“I was afraid of this.”
“What? Why are the lights out?”
“The storm. Only a matter of time until a tree hit a power line. Come on, let’s pull back these curtains, see if we can’t get a bit of light in here.”
Windows rimmed the library building—long thin horizontal things built high above the shelves, curtained and accessible by low cords hung in spaced increments between them. We pulled each back one by one, travelling together across the library, and gradually the space was flooded with little sparkles and glimmers; the moon fighting hard to pierce the storm which raged outside.
I’d never been in the library like this; like another world, a wasteland where shadows played around corners, where the endless books lining shelf after shelf looked like the ribs of a great beast. It had an otherworldly quality, like anything could happen. Instinctively, I moved closer to Booker.
Our hands touched, fingers entwining before I could think about it. He was warm beside me—his grip an anchor within the ghost land we had created. I’d met him such a short time ago, but already I l
ooked to him for food, for safety. For pleasure.
I shivered.
“So, ah, what’s there to do around here at night?” Booker asked. He looked as shaken by our sudden contact as I was. Our hands parted. “I need to do something, to… take my mind off things.”
“Well. It’s a library after all,” I said, the memory of his touch still warm in my mind. “My favorite is the romance section.” Lame Clara. Totally lame.
Booker’s hands went to his neck. “I was kind of thinking more like a board game or something. Romance really isn’t my thing.”
“Oh.” Not his thing? “Well there’s a small section. Fancy a game of Connect Four?”
We were on our third game— the decider—when I voiced the question that was on my mind. “Booker? What did you mean when you said romance wasn’t your thing?”
He paused, hand hovering above the game before eventually slotting his disk.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked. “A dirty little secret I haven’t told anyone?”
I looked at him apprehensively.
He beckoned me closer. “I’ve never been much of a library kind of guy.”
“What do you mean?”
He sat back. “I’ve never really enjoyed books. They bore me – why read it when you can wait for the movie to come out?”
“You’re not serious,” I said, scandalized. “You’re not seriously saying that to a librarian. In her own library?”
“I’ll read the Financial Times for my job, and I have a passion for conservation projects, so I’ll read that stuff occasionally too, but fiction just isn’t my thing.” He shrugged. “Romance is the worst. It’s so boring! All that malarkey about true love and soul mates? It’s just never sat true.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He shrugged. “Sorry.”
I stood. “All right, you’re on.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, standing as well.
I spread my arms. “We’re in no better place to prove you wrong, and we’ve got all the time in the world. We’re going to find a book —a romance, in fact—that grabs you so much you want to read it right here, cover to cover.”
