I loved the University Library. I loved the hugeness of it, the vast corridors leading nowhere, the countless books unread in decades, the little corners and niches where you could sit and work all day and never see another living soul. I loved the way that the books were labelled and sorted so that finding one became an arcane treasure hunt.
This Easter I had stopped on beyond the end of term; I was behind with my work and had nothing particular to go home for, so it made sense to stay. I always liked Cambridge at Easter -- not too many tourists and only a few students made the town feel intimate and small.
I sat at the same desk everyday, and hardly saw a soul. The occasional trolley would be wheeled along by one of the librarians and the odd (in all sense of the word) PhD student would amble by in search of some dusty tome. My area of study was quite obscure and this area of the library was hardly visited at the best of times; in the holidays it was deserted.
It was on the second day that I became aware of a pattern developing. At regular intervals, about an hour apart, the same librarian would come by and work at one of the shelves opposite my desk, or simply push a trolley along in front of me. I remembered that I had seen her the day before in the afternoon and not thought anything of it, but already today I had seen her 2 or 3 times. At first, I only smiled at her briefly, but as the day wore on we began to exchange little pleasantries and jokes that broke the ice and when I packed up to leave at 3.30 I felt relaxed enough to say goodbye as I passed her in the main reception.
The next day I noticed her earlier, and felt comfortable enough to stand and chat. Her name, she revealed, was Alice and she was also a student who had decided not to go home but earn some money working in the library, clearing the backlog of cataloguing that had built up over the term. She was slim and brunette and pretty. She was wearing a knee length grey skirt and black patterned tights that showed her legs off well, and my height meant that I could see the swell of her breasts beneath her top. As the day went on her visits became longer and more flirtatious -- she began to sit on the corner of my desk so that her skirt rode up and exposed more of her thighs; she bent over the trolley so that I caught a glimpse of her breasts down her tight blouse. That night, in bed, I thought of Alice as I gently tugged my cock.
I was at the door of the library 10 minutes before it opened the next day. My sleep had been disturbed, disrupted, and every time I had woken up an image of Alice sitting on my desk had entered my head. As soon as the doors opened I rushed to my normal table and opened up my books and files so that it would at least look like I was hoping to work.
I didn't have long to wait. Alice appeared very quickly, and my cock hardened instantly. Yesterday's demure but sexy outfit had been replaced with a knee length green dress, low cut to reveal the swelling of her breasts; high heeled black boots, and plain but very sexy and sheer black tights. There was no pretence of work today, she stopped pushing the trolley and came and sat right on my desk facing me and crossed her legs.
"Hi. You're in early." She said, looking me in the eye. She was leaning forward slightly and I could see her breasts straining at her bra. I wanted to touch her so badly, but I sat there dumbly and stared at her before launching into a breathless mumbling talk about my work as I felt the colour in my cheeks rise.
