Two stories of scholarly lasses with healthy libidos.

Based on the posts by Select Redux. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

 

Stimulating ReadingSexual adventures amid the bookshelves.

Unlocking the big oak doors, Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained-glass windows of the 'Institute'. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now part of a modern university, this old building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning.

The research library within opens just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PhD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings, lofty ceilings and marble floors, and calm, quiet ambience.

Starting the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn't the most exacting; mainly helping undergraduates locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush-making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that's become a bit of a habit, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused.

This 'special collection' is kept locked; its key is supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily's neck. Currently 'in between boyfriends' (no, not like that!) in truth modern men, mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion, don't do it for Emily. Call her traditional, she wants someone old-fashioned.

Emily's romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times and is exemplified by today's attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. A knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative;

Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he's smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a chap in a suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favors her with a confident smile and Emily melts inside, lust at first sight.

Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He's taken a couple of weeks' leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well-remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he'll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate, feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn't appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship.

"What did you do before studying," she enquires one morning.

"Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more," he shrugs. "Clichéd thing for a privileged person to say but it didn't make me happy."

"What does?"

"Good writing, which explains why I'm here in literary mode, how about you?"

"A very bright kid from a feckless, under-achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead-end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I have to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way." There's no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication.

"I detect a steely determination," he responds without rancor.

"Academically, yes," she agrees, "in order to remain with my beloved books, but unfashionable though it is I'd happily be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Will you be my knight?" Christ, she thinks, where did that come from? Silly mare you've blown it now.

"If you'll be my damsel in distress I'd be delighted," Michael answers lightly, but a die has been cast.

"What are you working on today?" he enquires conversationally when next visiting.

"These books were recently acquired for the special collections section. I'm trying to catalogue them," she explains, outwardly serene, but heart beating fast.

"Ah the erotica," Michael raises a knowing eyebrow, "better leave you to it then." He turns to a nearby table with a couple of hefty tomes and commences making notes while covertly observing Emily, absently twirling a lock of hair with one hand, the other no longer on the table but underneath. Much later, abruptly jolted from a pleasurable reverie by his shadow, Emily becomes abruptly aware of Michael's looming presence.

"You're spending a lot of time on books from that particular genre," he says, it isn't a question.

"Well; " she stammers.

"Perhaps that's why you've twice left the University's precious erotica shelves unlocked lately?"

Her eyes widen in shock. "How did you know?" It's true, no point in denying the fact.