Borrowing the Librarian

It doesn’t take much to distract me from my essay – let’s face it, the social woes of Communist Russia under Khrushchev aren’t the most exciting things in the world. But I have a deadline, and I’m in the library so I don’t get distracted by my games. It’s a quiet environment, but that’s not really helping my essay. I have words, lots of them, but none of them are very interesting.

It doesn’t take much to distract me, but the librarian walking past with an armload of books is definitely a good distraction. As she stretches to shelve a book, I spot her narrow waist under the baggy cardigan. And when she steps onto the stool to reach to the higher shelves, her legs are toned. I want to lift her skirt up, run my hands up her thighs…

I try to focus on my essay.

She moves down the shelves behind me, and I catch a faint wave of scent. It’s light, reminding me off grasses and sunshine. Just what I don’t need when it’s a lovely day outside and I’ve got an essay to write…but then my daydream of her wouldn’t involve being outside either.

Who am I kidding. I need to focus.

She leaves the shelves, but my essay still isn’t getting written. I manage another few hundred words and then realise that I’m not getting anywhere. I need coffee, but…and I snag one of my books that I need to return, just as an excuse to talk to her.

She’s alone at the issue desk when I walk into the main Library. It’s pretty quiet – everyone’s studying, but it’s too nice a day to be in here. She glances up as I come towards me, and smiles. “Still doing your history essay?”

“I just can’t quit,” I joke. I’ve been in and out of the library a lot over the past week, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she recognises me.

“Returning that?”

I nod and slide the book across. “I’ll need to take out some more later, though.”

“More Russia?”

“Unless I can borrow you.”

I feel like an idiot as soon as I’ve said it. It sounds like the corniest, cheesiest line anyone’s ever uttered…she’s going to laugh nervously and brush it off, and I then won’t meet her eyes again when I next borrow books and everything’ll be very Awkward…

Her eyes have widened, and my stomach drops to my knees. But then a small smile touches her lips, even though her cheeks are going red. “I’m only an overnight loan, I’m afraid. You’d have to bring me back tomorrow.”

I’m almost speechless for a moment as it sinks in. Then my brain gives a kick. “Oh. Uh. That sounds ok. So, um, how do I borrow you?”

Her cheeks are really red now, but she’s still smiling. “I finish at half four. Meet me at the main gate?”

I glance at my watch. It’s midday, I’ve got an essay deadline at five, and now I need to get it done before half four…talk about pressure. “Uh. Sure.”

She smiles, and picks up the book I just returned, suddenly professional again. “That’s been taken off your record. Was there anything else?”

Someone’s come up behind me, and I’m not sure what to say. “No. Thanks. I’ll…um. Thanks.”


I’m at the main gate early, waiting nervously with my hands in my pockets. I did get my essay done – I guess a deadline really inspires me – and I’ve handed it in. I’m currently trying to work out how old she is…early twenties, I guess? I suddenly feel very young, for all that I’m third year. I’m an awkward teenager and she’s walking towards me, skirt swinging around her toned legs and a bag strap across her chest, emphasising the curve of her cleavage. She looks slightly nervous too, and I try a smile. She returns it, and I feel a bit better.

“So, your place or mine?” she asks quietly as she reaches me. Her eyes are greener than I thought from the Library.

“Uh…” I’d expected coffee. “I have housemates.”

“I’m a fifteen-minute walk. I’ll give you the address if you’ll text a friend to let them know where you are.” She’s suddenly gone professional again, and I fumble with my phone.

But the walk back manages to dispel all of my worries. She’s intelligent, witty and light-hearted, able to go from history to music to a dirty joke about sausages in a blink. I manage to make her laugh several times, and it seems like an instant to reach her door. She opens it, invites me in, and slides her shoes off. “Come on through. Do you want a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She fetches herself a glass of water as I looking around her kitchen, being nosy.

“So, why did you want to borrow me?” she asks with that small smile, putting her glass down and leaning on the worktop.

“I liked your legs,” I say honestly, turning back to her. “Do you usually do this?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Nope. You’re the first student I’ve allowed to, um, overnight loan me.”

I walk over to her, close enough to smell the light scent that she wears. “So, have you got any overdue charges?” I’m enjoying the metaphor.

She looks at me through sparkling eyes. “You get fined. It’s cumulative.”


“One stroke for every day overdue.”

“Stroke?” I’m starting to worry. She really can’t mean a beating, can she? “Like…canes, or something?”

Her hand slides up my cock in one quick movement, through the light material of my khakis. It’s such a shock that I’m speechless for an instant, and then her hand’s gone again. “One stroke. But it’s cumulative.”

I get what she means. “But…that sounds like an incentive to keep you beyond your due date.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and the tiny smile is lingering at the corner of her lips as her hands slides down my back. “I don’t make the policies. I just enforce them.”

“Then I’ll have to make the most of my overnight loan,” I murmur, and slide my lips onto hers.

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