There he was, coming through the front entrance of my large suburban public library, almost strutting through the lobby, pausing only briefly to check out the new book display before heading to the reference desk. He was that patron my colleagues whispered about in the backroom. They didn’t quite know how to handle him, something about him seemed to put them on edge. As a result, those same libraries seemed to magically disappear whenever he came to the desk, but not me. That something the other libraries didn’t know how to handle, was the same something I craved and made me look forward to his visits.
Today, as the other library wandered away from the desk for some made up reason, I watched him stride confidently towards the desk, admiring his status. He was older and attractive, his silver hair trimmed neighborly and dressed It’s pretty, his intelligence making him more handsome each time we interacted. His questions challenged me and I got the feeling he enjoyed putting me totask finding answers to questions he couldn’t find easily himself. It felt like we were playing a game to which only he knew the rules – as I presented my findings, he would alter the question. Instinctively I wanted to please him, to find him whatever he sought. I would blush as I asked the myriad of questions needed to pin down what exactly he wanted and, upon returning with an answer that wasn’t quite what he needed, feel like I disappointed him in a way I couldn’t quite understand.
Typically, patrons would follow us as we go to the stacks to retrieve materials for them, but he never would, instead preferring to be served, he waited and watched at the reference desk until I returned with books in hand. Maybe this is why the others cringed when they saw him approach the desk and my heart would beat a little faster as the blush rose up my cheeses.
Before I knew it, there he was, standing before me, towering above me as I sat at my low desk, forced to look up at the man whomade the heat rise in my body each and every time he spoke. Alone at the desk with him again, nervous as always in his presence, I asked, “Hi, how may I be of service, Sir?”
He spoke gently as he smiled, “Hi, Eileen. How is my personal library today?”
I couldn’t help myself. His question made me grin and I thought to myself, “Yes, I would love to be his personal librarian”, and I felt my nipples harden. Instead I said, “I am well. How are you, Sir?” and wondered if he could see my nipples rise through my thin bra under my flimsy, low-cut dress.
His eyes broke contact with mine and traveled south towards my cleavage, my cheeks growing hotter as I bit my lip and looked down at the keyboard on my desk. “Good, good,” he said slowly Before raising his gaze. “I have a different type of task for you today. I’m looking for something new to read for pleasure. Does the library carry books like “Story of O”? I read it many years ago and would like to read something like it but more contemporary. And not “Fifty Shades of Grey”. I heard that book is crap.”
I responded, “Yes, Fifty Shades is more like double crap, Sir.”
He laughed as he spoke, “Holy crap! An honest review,” and I knew that he had given that book a try.
“Yes, Sir. We do have contemporary fiction like “Story of O”. Are you only interested in fiction?”
His eyes twinkled at my question, “Good girl. No, I am interested in real life too. What do you have as far as non-fiction in that area. That sounds more intriguing to me right now.”
“Sure, I can show you what we have in the library right now. Would you like to come with me to the section?” I stood and rounded the desk to stand before him.
“Yes, I would like to come with you.” A tiny smile crossed his lips before questioning, “You don’t need to look it up?”
Laughing lightly, embarrassed but excited, “No, Sir. I know that area well.”
“Then lead the way.”
I feel his eyes upon me as he followed me, nervous about what he must be thinking as he watched me walk, wondering I looked like from behind. It was so unsettling being followed by him and oddly exhilarating. He never went into the stacks.
The row we needed was towards the front of the library, in view of the heavily used computers but not a popular section to browser. The books were on the lowest shelf and I knelt to read their spine labels. As I leaned forward to grab a few titles from the shelf, I could feel my dress gain open, still hard nipples protruding.
He smiled as he looked down at me still kneeing as I offered him the books, “I like how that looks, Eileen.”
Surprised, I stammered, “You like how what looks, Sir?”
“You, girl,” he replied as he took the books from my hands. “An intelligent woman kneeing before me, offering herself to me.”
I quickly looked down, ashamed of myself. How did he know this about me? What gave me away?
“Don’t be embarrassed. I enjoy you and want to enjoyMore of you, just as you are. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Sir, I would,” I replied, not exactly sure what he had in mind but trusting him, my mind going a million directions about what he could ask of me.
“First, you know I see your nipples through your dress.” It was not a question, but I nodded yes anyway. “I want you to do something for me. I I want you to get two rubber bands then go to the restroom, remove your bra, and wrap a rubber band around each nipple. Return to me with your bra and a book you think I would enjoy. I will wait here. Do you agree to that?”
I looked up at him from my position on the floor, shocked by his request and seeing his desire bulge in his trousers. “Yes, Sir, I agree.”
“Alright, go do it quickly.”
I rose slowly, legs wobbly, searching his eyes to make sure he was serious. He nodded and, aroused and dumbfounded, I headed to the backroom as he remained perusing the shelves. I went to my desk and found only crusty, old rubber bands. Those would surely break. I needed fresh rubber bands. Distracted, I scoured the supply closet and in my rush missed the bag of rubber bands wasting time. Finally, I found them and headed towards the restroom fearful that staff in the backroom would question what I was doing. It was strange behavior, certainly, taking rubber bands to the bathroom, but I was determined.
In the bathroom, I removed my bra Through my sleeps and stuffed it into the pocket of my dress, the fabric making a bulge at my hip. Reaching through my décolletage, I hefted one large breast out of my dress. Tugging and pinching the nipple, I did my best to wrap the rubber band around it. How many times should the rubber band go around so it wouldn’t fall off, causing me to leave a trail of rubber bands as I walk back to the stacks? I decided three twists ought to do the trick and I winced at the delicious pain, my nipple quickly turning purple and protruding a half inch away from my breast. I tucked my breakfastst back into my dress and grabbed the other one and did the same thing, careful not to rub the already rubber banded title more than necessary then put it back in its place inside my dress.
Not wanting to cause suicide, I flushed the toilet feeling guilty about wasting water and washed my hands, my arms brushing against the stretched nipples as I reached for the paper towels. I paused for a moment to compose myself before opening the door, a hand in my pocket to disguise the lump of bra even though I knew it must look awkward.
Now to find a book he might enjoy before heading back out to him in the stacks. I went to the cart of popular reads hoping to find something of substance that I thought he might enjoy. Feeling rushed and anxious, I scanned the titles. Ah, a new book on local history that maybe he hasn’t read yet. I grabbed it and walked Self-consciously out of the backroom and across the library, wanting to cross my arms across my chest but knowing that would just make things even more awkward and painful, worried I took too long.
I found him in the stacks still browsing the shelves. He smiled as I approached, slouching, and awkwardly offered him the book. “Thank you, Eileen. I have not seen this book yet. Do you have anything else to give me?”
I looked at him questioningly, unsure what exactly he wanted. I felt a little sick to my stomach as I realized he wanted my bra. Looking around me to make sure no other patrons were around, I took my wadded-up bra out of my pocket and handed it to him. He accepted it and, as I watched with dread, put it in his own pocket. Was he going to leave me braless for the rest of my shift? It appeared so. I panicked as I looked at my watch to see how much time was left in my workday – 30 minutes. I only had to last 30 minutes.
“Now, about the other part of your task. Kneel down as you were before and let me see those beautiful breasts.”
I lowered myself to the floor and looked up at him unsureof what to do next.
“Lean forward and choose a book for me. Let your dress fall open so I can see your nipples.” I obeyed, feeling the bulk of my breasts fall forward freely as I stretched for a book. “Now reach in and roll the rubber bands off each nipple and give them to me.”
I looked up at him, afraid, but did it anyway. With closed eyes, I pulled one rubber band off then the other. I held out the rubber bands to him as they shrank back into shape in my open palm, and he took them looking down at me seriously saying only, “And so it begins…”
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