It had been a long day. I had thrashed out the bones of the first two chapters but wasn't terribly excited with what lay before me. The characters seemed okay, but the locations were bland, causing the story to lack that "grab" I was hoping for. Heavy competition in the Science Fiction field meant that I was off to the library in the hopes of gaining the inspiration necessary to save the start of my most recent book.
Like any other, the dusty old building was desperately in need of the funding necessary to fix the facade and update the interior. However, being situated in a blue-ribbon seat, no one was willing to allocate any funds for such a project. But for my purposes, it was perfect. I knew that I would find examples of gothic architecture while enveloped in the libraries outdated atmosphere.
Just inside the entrance was the librarian's counter, an old-fashioned teak monstrosity chipped and scratched through years of use. Behind it stood a woman nearly as old and scratched as the counter itself. She looked down her nose at me as I walked past, returning to her a confident smile. Behind the counter, rows of chairs lined two long tables stretching back into the dim lighting and maze of shadows. I was about to walk down to the far end when I saw her.
My eyes were drawn first to the beautiful profile before me, but quickly traveled to the smooth softness of her neck as her fingers stretched to tame wavy blonde hair. She was clearly concentrating, biting her bottom lip as she pored over the architecture drawings spread out before her. I didn't mind, I knew that I could look her over at my leisure as I chose my spot to sit. My gaze traveled downward, following a soft shoulder to her breast, resting lightly on the table as she leaned forward. The light summer dress she was wearing clearly could not hide a bra, with the thin shoulder straps being the only covering above her chest.
As I sat down she looked up, and for a brief moment our eyes met. I was struck by their brightness; a vivid blue even behind the small wire rimed glasses she wore. I busied myself with the notepads and sketches I had brought, trying to pull my mind away from this woman across the table. I stood and walked over to the indexes, looking up the references I would need. As I turned to make my way to the shelves, out of the corner of my eye I caught the slight movement of her head as it ducked down out of view. I made like I hadn't seen it and strolled around the desk to the shelves, back into the dimness once more. I turned and could see her back clearly, as she rested her head on one hand. I could see now the knee-length dress she wore with low slip-on shoes, one hanging off the toe of her crossed legs. Nice legs too from what I could see, although my angle of viewing left something to be desired. Just the same, a very attractive package, and I felt a familiar quickening, a stirring of the blood that made it all the hard to concentrate on the purpose of my visit. She had a sensual quality, such that I spent a great deal more time admiring my view of her than looking for books. I shook my head, pulled out some architecture books almost at random and headed back around the table.
I tried to concentrate on the books scattered before me, but I felt my attention return time and again to the woman opposite. I thumbed through the well worn volumes, looking for anything that would capture my focus, that would get her image out of my head, but for every attempt to focus, my gaze keep drifting.
She got up and wandered back to the shelves where I had been. She was a few inches shorter than I had imagined, but every inch as attractive. I felt the blood stir as I watched her dally, flicking the books with her fingers as she walked down the row. She seemed to be concentrating on the titles, but that was when it dawned on me that this was not a search for a book, but a display. She was aware of my attention, and was paying just as much to me! I don't know how I knew, and yet it was one of those certainties that when realized become a rock-solid belief that was unassailable.
As if to prove my point, she frowned and returned to the table without picking out any books at all. Now it was different. I could feel a charge of electricity in the air, a static burst of attraction. As she sat down, her bare leg brushed against the outside of mine. Her skin tickled the hairs on my leg like fine fire, and I almost jumped. I leaned my leg out until it rested against hers solid skin-on-skin contact for the first time. I kept my head down looking at the nonsense pages in front of me, as I could see she did. She moved her leg, just a fraction, up and down against mine, but I understood. Ours was to be an elaborate quiet courtship, all hidden under solid teak respectability.
I moved my leg up and down, growing bolder in my tender caresses. Her leg moved as well, mirroring my movements. I made an effort to control my breathing, to concentrate all my senses on that small patch of intimate contact. I used my other foot to gently slip off the runner that I had on that leg, leaving my sock on. I brought my leg back, my knee circling hers as the inside of my leg now rested on the inside of hers, a thousand times more sensitive.
