by Tara Jones
“I see,” she said slowly and reached for the scanner with her small, delicate hand that was–I knew from my own experience–much stronger than it looked.
I still hadn’t figured out how she had managed to so effectively pin me down to the floor last time we met, but perhaps she was a secret agent and knew kung fu?
Or maybe she’s just a modern woman who had taken self-defence classes, I concluded.
After all, this wasn’t the most peaceful neighbourhood in London.
She wore an elegant pearl necklace and a small golden watch, but no engagement or wedding ring, I noticed with a small sigh of relief. I had forgotten to pay attention to that before. Well, to be honest I hadn’t been able to think straight at all last time, but still. It’s always nice to know if there’s a risk of getting confronted by an enraged spouse.
Besides, I like that she’s single, I realized with a small and strange feeling of possessiveness that I’ve no idea where it came from.
The sound of the metallic beep seemed to echo in the empty library as she scanned the book.
“It appears that this book is over-due,” she said slowly, in an almost thoughtful manner, before she added, “Were you aware of that?”
“Yes,” I replied slightly hoarsely.
My heartbeat increased in wild expectation of what would happen next. Her sentence ‘If you’re late with returning the book to the library, there’ll be a fee and... other consequences’ echoed in my mind.
“And did you also know that according to the library policy you’ll have to pay a fee if you return your books late?” she continued, pushing up the black glasses that had slipped down her nose.
“Yes,” I admitted. I had to force my voice to remain steady and tried not to lick my lips.
“Hm,” she said softly and tilted her head a little bit to one side, studying me. She frowned at me slightly. “I believed I did warn you about that, didn’t I? And that I said that there would be... certain consequences if you returned the book late?”
“You did,” I acknowledged.
“Very well, then,” she said slowly and eyed me up and down in a way that almost made me want to check if I was still wearing my clothes or not.
She paused and looked at me thoughtfully, tapping her full lips with her small index finger, a gesture I found oddly provocative.
“You may undress now,” she said simply after a short while.
“I beg your pardon?” I said, but before I managed to say anything else, she closed the space between us until her body was pressed against me.
She buried her fingers in my hair, ruining my carefully created hairstyle. Without being too gentle about it, she grabbed my hair and pulled my head down to her level, so I had to bend down.
I thought for a wild second that she would kiss me, but instead she paused.
I felt her hot breath against my neck as she whispered in my ear, “You’re not allowed to ask questions.”
Her comment and the tone in her voice sent shivers down my spine.
She held on to my hair little bit longer before she let her hand travel deliberately slowly from my neck, down my chest, and along my stomach until she reached the rather unmistakable bulge in front of my designer trousers. Her fingertips stroked the top of my erection maddeningly lightly, and a small moan almost left my lips.
“Do you understand?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” I answered breathlessly, unable to stop myself from pressing my body just a little bit closer against her. I wanted to rip her clothes off, pull down her knickers, and just simply bend her over the counter and take her.
But I didn’t.
It’s not for you to decide what happens next, now is it? Her previous comment echoed in my mind, and I took a steady mental grip over my desire before it would lead me astray.
She laughed softly under her breath and stepped away from me.
“You really haven’t been trained properly, have you?” she asked and added when she saw my confused look. “No, don’t answer that. Just undress as I told you to.”
“Okay,” I said and secretly I was a little proud over that I didn’t follow my instinct and ask: “Why?” or “What?” or “Right now?”
I simply did what she told me to do.
Trained? What the hell does that mean? I wondered while I unbuttoned my shirt and folded it neatly.
And why did I find the remark so strangely exciting?
The library wasn’t exactly warm and cosy, and small goose bumps formed along my arms as a result. Or at least I thought it was because of the cool air, but it could also be that I noticed that she was now sitting on the counter, watching me undress in front of her. When she saw my gaze, her lips curved slightly and she slowly spread her legs a little bit apart.
I swallowed hard, but I saw her nod in encouragement as I slowly started to take off my trousers and boxers.
I sincerely hope that that there’re no bored teenagers hanging out in the park, or any old ladies with a frail hearts walking their dogs at this time of the evening, I thought as I removed the last of my clothes.
The library was lit up by large globe ceiling lamps as well as several brass banker’s lamps with green glass shades placed on the reading tables. I had a sinking feeling that the library was lit up like a beacon in the night.
She noticed my glance towards the library windows.
“Are you a little bit shy?” she asked and pouted her lips in a slightly mocking expression.
“What?” I said and added quickly, “No, not at all.”
She looked at me over her black glasses.
“No?” she said. “Are you sure? Because I don’t like it when people lie.”
I hesitated.
“Perhaps I’m slightly... ah, reserved I suppose?” I admitted at last.
“Very good,” she said, leaning over by the counter and reaching for a set of switches.
I could easily see her bra through her white blouse when she stretched toward the switches. The lights in the ceiling went out, leaving only the weak light from the reading lamps to light up the large room.
“Thank you,” I said automatically and saw her eyes glitter in the dim light.
“You’re a fast learner,” she purred. “Come here,” she ordered and I stepped closer, my erection almost touching the hem of her skirt.
I gasped as she moved slightly, so the tip of my erection lightly touched the inside of her soft thigh, letting it rub against her skin. I wanted nothing else but to kiss her and spread those curvy legs of her wide.
“Now...” she whispered with a small smile. “Get down on your knees.”
I hesitated for only a second, unwilling to break the contact between the moist tip of my erection and her smooth thigh, but with a small groan of disappointment I did what she told me to do.
I sank down on my knees in front of her.
“Take off my shoes,” she said softly.
She wore dark brown high heels. They had curved heels and were made of soft leather, and they slipped off her feet easily. Her feet were kind of cute because they were so small, with the tiniest of toes.
“Tights next,” she whispered while removing her glasses and placing them carefully on the counter next to her.
I noticed that she had taken of that horrible tweed jacket and was undoing a couple of buttons on her blouse, which exposed her generous cleavage and the laced edge of a white bra.
The tights were trickier to take off. My fingers were clumsy as I was getting more and more turned on and I think I tore the sheer, silky material. I was gradually getting uncomfortably hard as I wondered what she would want me to do once she was fully undressed.
She had unbuttoned her blouse completely and pulled down one of the straps of her white bra. I saw her slowly cup one of her breasts, shamelessly rubbing the nipple with her thumb.
“...And my underwear,” she ordered in a slightly breathless voice.
Clearly I wasn’t the only one getting turned on, and the sigh
t of her so openly excited was slowly driving me rather mad with desire too.
She still wore her checkered skirt, but lifted her bottom so I could pull down her white cotton knickers.
“Come here” she said, slowly and her fingers ran through my hair before she grabbed a handful of it and guided me in between her legs. “Please me,” she whispered.
It wasn’t a question, it was an order. And there was absolutely no room for discussions.
I can’t say I normally care much for oral sex. Or, well, to be honest: I never really cared about giving oral sex to my girlfriends or temporary sexual partners. I enjoyed receiving blow jobs of course, but I rarely reciprocated. I found it somewhat time consuming and it never really gave me any direct pleasure, so usually I avoided it.
But that was before I found myself naked and on my knees in front of this sensual, beautiful woman, who clearly‒despite her prim tweed jacket and innocent glasses‒had a slightly dominant streak.
I heard her sigh, and she leaned backwards as I let my hands slowly glide along her legs, starting at her ankles. I spread my fingers wider when I reached her soft thighs and I felt her run her fingers through my hair, tousling it as she moaned quietly and moved closer towards me.
Before I tasted her, I stroked her lightly with the tips of my fingers. She was already moist and excited and her lower lips parted easily for me as she moaned quietly. She seemed to be pretty turned on, but from what I read in some men’s magazine ages ago, almost all girls preferred a gentle and slow approach, so I took my time.
I stroked softly and teasingly along the sides of her lips, then gently brushed my fingertips over her hooded clitoris, which was gradually getting more exposed as she got more and more excited and her breathing become rather unsteady.
To prolong the moment‒and because I simply couldn’t resist‒I reached down and stroked myself up and down a couple of times. I had hoped that touching myself briefly would take away the worst of my hunger for her, but unfortunately it only served to turn me on even more. The sight of her pinching one of her pink, stiff nipples between her fingers made it even harder to stay in control, and I had to stifle the urge to increase the grip around my full erection. I didn’t want to create a mess on the carpet, so instead I refocused my attention to her.
As I went back to my task, she was clearly getting more eager. She crossed one curvy leg around my neck, pressing my head closer towards her. I could smell her excitement. The fragrance and her moans were slowly driving me to a completely new level of desire and craving for her. She leaned backwards on the counter and pulled my hair, guiding me closer and urging me on.
I felt rather pleased with myself that I had her on her back, moaning and wriggling under my touch that I needed no more encouraging. Softly I brushed my lips against her again, letting my warm breath flow over her before I gently licked her long and slow. I felt her grip tighten as her body tensed and she moved her hips against me, more desperate now.
“Yes, yes,” I heard her moan, which really was all I needed to know.
She was oh so ready. I didn’t hold back anymore, and finally I let my tongue flick over her most sensitive spot. In response I felt her nails dig into my shoulders as she pressed herself against me. It should have hurt, but I was all too caught up with focusing on her pleasure. A new set of claw marks on my back was the last thing I was concerned about. Then and there, all that mattered was my goal of pleasing her and making her come.
I let one arm glide around her sensual hips, pulling her closer, while I continued to tease her and kept her on the edge by alternating between licking lavishly along the side of her lips and playing teasingly with her clitoris.
Then, I gently let my fingertips touch her to see if she wanted me to proceed further. Her breathing became more and more uneven, and I felt the muscles in the curvy leg draped around my neck tense as she arched her back. She was getting very close to coming, and when I looked up I saw that she had closed her eyes and was rubbing her breasts while she rocked her hips towards me, completely unabashed.
It was easily one of the sexiest things I had ever seen. Slowly I let one of my fingers glide inside of her, while I wished that she would allow me to enter her and bury myself all the way to the base inside of her. I was on the brink of succumbing and reaching down between my legs to end this delicious form of torture. She arched her back further in response to my touch, and moaned while I moved my hand rhythmically. She was warm and tight inside. I felt her grow even moister and increased the pace while I licked her clitoris steadily, but lightly at the same time.
“Two fingers,” she moaned with pleasure.
I immediately obeyed and let a second finger slide inside her.
It was apparently the last push she needed, because she came almost immediately. She screamed out, pushing her hips against me while she pressed my head firmly against her.
I felt her squeeze around my wet fingers, tightly the first time and the gradually with lesser intensity. While I continued to slowly lick her, I felt her shudder under my touch a couple of times.
She opened her eyes again and flashed me her lazy smile that I had come to like.
“Well done,” she said and played with a strand of my hair. “Now, fuck me.”
She didn’t have to ask me twice.
I desperately tore off the rest of her clothes and buried my face in between her large, rounded breasts, kissing those wonderful nipples. I grabbed her thighs firmly and pressed against her, before I reached down to steer myself inside of her.
She was so wet and ready and met my desperate trusts with her own hip movements, as she crossed her curvy ankles behind my back, her red hair spread out like a fan around her on the counter. A couple of books fell down to the floor, but I paid no attention to them.
I tried to hold back, but to be perfectly honest, I was so incredibly turned on, it was almost impossible to last.
“Harder,” she panted, and with a half-strangled groan I shoved myself against her.
I bit my lower lip hard until I tasted a tang of blood and felt her nails dig in to my back and heard her cry out as she came a second time. Only then did I allow myself to let go. I thrust hard against her a few more times and then I came with a mixed sense of the highest level of pleasure and desire laced with almost frantic desperation.
I collapsed on top of her afterwards, sweaty and breathless, while I mumbled incoherently in her ear. I think I tried to offer some sort of appreciation, but I’m not sure. My mind was shell-shocked with pleasure, and not even a couple of minutes later, when she laughed at me and struggled to be free from underneath me, did I recover. I simply lay there, like a drugged animal, high on endorphins.
“Are you going to lie there the rest of the night?” she asked after a while, with a small, amused smile playing on her lips.
She had already dressed and was putting her hair up in a one of those elegant twists that most girls with long hair could do in one fluid motion that made it looks easy. The gesture was both impressive and also oddly erotic, although I knew that I was nowhere near being able to have sex again.
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled and rose slowly. “I suppose not.”
I felt sore and my body groaned in protest.
At least my clothes aren’t spread all over the bloody floor this time, I thought sheepishly, as I started to dress in what felt like a haphazard manner.
She was waiting for me in front of the window, so I tried to dress as quickly as possible. Somehow I felt like a naughty teenager, having sex with a girl whose name I didn’t even know. My mother wouldn’t have been pleased.
On the other hand: If this is the result of returning overdue books to the library, I’ll borrow heaps of books and never return them on time again. Ever, I thought to myself with a smile, but my thoughts were interrupted.
“Would... Would you mind following me to my car?” she asked, turning around from the window.
I thought her voice suddenly sounded a little bit uncertain, but
it could have been my dazed imagination.
“Sure,” I said and ran my fingers through my tousled hair.
I wondered slightly if I had the same hairstyle as Edward Scissorhands. It definitely felt like that.
“So, can I ask you something?” I said as we stepped through the automatic doors of the library out in the cold autumn weather outside.
“Yes,” she answered, slightly distracted while she was going through her handbag.
She had a small, rounded handbag and a knee-length, cream-coloured coat that looked like it was tailored around her sensual body.
Other women probably hate her on sight, I concluded and felt somewhat smug that she was mine, at least for now.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask.
How old are you? Where do you live? Are you from Cornwall, because it sounds like you’ve a slightly posh accent?
Not to mention questions like: Would you like to have dinner with me someday? When can I see you again?
And more dangerous questions such as: Do you always force your boyfriends to obey you? Do you like being in charge?
Well, I knew the answer to the last question, but instead I settled for the safe questions and asked one that had been nagging me ever since I first met her.
“So, what’s your name?” I said and felt slightly stupid.
“Eleanor,” she said and smiled at me. She hesitated slightly before she added, “Eleanor Marston.”
Eleanor? I thought.
Yes, I could see how that name could fit her. Although it was a somewhat upper-class name, it was also classic and slightly old-fashioned and suited her well.
We left the library and she made sure the worn double doors closed behind her properly before punching in an alarm code on a display next to the doors. I didn’t really know what to say as we walked along the footpath to the car park, but I felt a little bit proud and manly that she wanted me to follow her to her car. I liked the idea that I could protect her even though she had proven that she was more than able to handle herself pretty well. But she was, after all, rather short and a woman.
