“Do you need help?”
She looked at me over the brim of her glasses, her hand resting expectantly on the magazine in front of her.
“No, thank you,” I said, smiling at the librarian, “I will find my way.”
I don’t think she even heard my last words, as her eyes had already lowered back to what she had been reading when I disturbed her with my question.
This wasn’t my first time in this old library, but the first time I came here during the evening hours. The dark mahogany interior always soothed the unrest in me, and that was what I needed now: to be calmed. I didn’t want to be alone in my apartment tonight. The void his absence left in my life is more palpable today. The library seemed like a welcome distraction from the sadness that covered me like a cloak all day.
I took the center flight of stairs — also done in the same dark wood — to the second level. It seemed like I was the only one in the library, which almost made me understand the librarian’s barely contained irritation when I disturbed her. I shrugged and looked at the signs on the rows of books, to find the section where I needed to be. Almost to the back, I entered between two shelves and start looking for the specific author I wanted to read.
Rounding the corner at the end of the row, and entering the next one, I heard it. A sigh? Was someone else here? There it was again. Not a sigh; more like a gasp. Heavy breathing. The row of books blocked my vision. I crouched down and moved sideways a bit to find an opening between the books. I clamped my hand to stifle the gasp now coming from my own mouth.
His tongue flicked over her clitoris, his hands pushing her legs up, giving me an unobstructed view of their most intimate actions. Her knee blocked my view of her face, but the muffled sound of her panting made me imagine her expression of ecstasy. He stood up and for a moment I wanted to flee, but I just couldn’t. I watched as he leaned over her, and imagined him kissing her. My eyes were fixed on his fingers, two of which had entered her and slowly pushed in and out, his thumb circling the button of flesh where his tongue had been only moments before.
My hand found it’s way to my crotch. I ran my fingers over my labia, and twitched with lust. My legging was damp from my own excitement. I found the elastic and slipped my hand inside, just as he dropped his pants and gave me the perfect side view of his round buttocks. My fingers entered my wetness when his cock slipped into her cunt. Could they hear my breathing the way I heard theirs?
My rhythm matched theirs. Fingering myself, my climax started building and I felt more alive than I had been in months. When he pushed harder into her, and she could barely stay silent, my hand moved to my clitoris. I watched the muscles in his bottom, those in his legs, and was given a glimpse of him slipping in and out of her pussy. Just as he pushed into her hard one last time, I stifled a groan as my climax overtook me.
Quickly I found the book I came for, and left the aisle to go back downstairs. I glanced back up when I reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw them walking towards it. They were directly behind me when I walked out of the library onto the street, and into the dark night. I stopped, looked at them over my shoulder and smiled.
“Thank you,” I said, and before they could react, I turned around and walked away. The cloak of sadness was much lighter than before. He was gone, yes, but I was still here, alive and… well… still sexy. I looked up at the dark sky, and smiled. He promised he would watch over me, and leading me to this naughty scene, just seemed like something he would do. There wasn’t a skip in my step just yet, but life looked much better now than when I declined the help of the librarian.
Note: The prompt was: Replace any word in a film title with ‘library’.
I chose for ‘Night at the Museum’.
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay