My relaxing weekend started with a trip to the public library. Not my normal public library. This one is in a small town just 10 miles away. The library is turn of the century old and dimly lit. It has two levels and many small aisle, nooks, crannie's and small rooms filled with bookshelves. It almost looks like a converted old manor. But the smell of the old books is intoxicating to me and it's adorned with wood craftsmanship from a time long forgotten. I've picked this library because it's quiet and out of the way and its selection of romance novels is far better than the big city. My ex would have called them Smut novels but I don't care, It's what I like. In short order I found myself in my favorite place on the second floor, tucked in the far back recesses. The aisle has a small handwritten tag on the end lending its name, Erotica. I've been unusually horny for the last couple weeks, but sometimes I just can't help but punish myself. As I perused through the books I found an old favorite I've read before. I reached up and grabbed the end of the book and at the same time it was pulled from the other direction.
"Excuse me," comes from the other side of the bookshelf. "Go ahead," he says, "I've read it before."
I responded, "No, it's quite alright, I have to." "It's one of my favorites." I continued.
"Mine too," replied the smoky voice from the other side of the rack. "What's your favorite part?'' he asks."
"I don't know, I suppose there's too many to choose from."
"But you have to have a favorite," he persisted.
I peered between the books to try to catch a glimpse of who's speaking to me but all I can make out is a strong male jaw and neck line. He's turned to one side and looking away, reminiscent of a priest in a dim lit confessional.
I assumed he was looking at another book. I continued to search for a better glimpse when he suddenly peered through the narrow gap in the shelf. His eyes were piercing and caused me to spin around leaning my back against the shelf.
I clutched the book over my chest as I pieced together the facial features in my mind.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he continued. "I just know the book very well."
Because I was not sure where this conversation was leading, I attempted to pick a fairly innocent and playful scene from the book and said.
"I guess I would pick the part where Mary and John finally reveal their feelings for one another."
He responded by saying, "Chapter 12, that is a good one."
I quickly flipped the book open to see if he was correct. As my eyes began to scan the pages he started to recite words exactly as they were written. His voice was low and gravely like a jazz singer, and it had me so intrigued. Whoever it was could have given me the day's weather and I would have listened enthusiastically to every word. The Stranger started the chapter.
"John touches Mary's knee gently with the back of his fingertips like the brush strokes from a seasoned painter. His hand is alongside her knee until he gets a more positive affirmation from Mary. He continues his caress across her flawless porcelain colored skin. His fingers stop at the boundary line produced by the fringed edge of Mary's summer dress. Only inches above her knee his fingertips send an electric charge through her whole body. Mary awkwardly raises a hand towards John and places it Palm down on his chest at the point his neckline and collar bone meet. His shirt is open enough at the top that she can feel the warmth of his skin. His hand covers the back of hers and holds it there as his other hand moves to slide through her hair just behind her ear. He pulls her towards him slowly, until their foreheads and noses are touching. The two share a moment before Mary's hand breaks away from John's chest and slides around the back of his neck. Their lips touched slowly at first, and John's tongue curled to meet Mary's upper lip. He touches her lip softly as if he's tasting something unknown for the first time. Mary responds by pulling John's lower lip into her mouth. Their lips finally become intertwined and Mary's body tingles with anticipation. She has to remind herself to breathe."
"Have you ever had to remind yourself to breathe?" Interrupted the stranger.
My world came to a halt as I snapped back to reality. His voice had me in a trance. For a moment I was lost in Mary's Character.
"Wha...what?" I stammered.
"Have you ever forgot to breathe?" He repeated.
Just now I thought to myself.
"No," I responded, "I mean, I don't remember."
"Not once?" He questioned. "No man has ever taken your breath away and then given you his own to just make you whole again."
"Wow, No," I said, "Sounds amazing but I guess it was never in the cards."
The stranger leaned closer into the slim opening between shelves and whispered in a silky voice, "The cards are always in your hands, you play them as YOU see fit." "Now then, should we continue?" "This time I would like it very much if you read to me." he requested.
"I don't know," I replied.
He responded, "Have more faith in yourself, besides it's one of your favorite books."
My voice started to quiver as I began to read.
John's hand now lies.......
"Relax," interrupted the voice. "I already know the words, I've just never heard them from a woman's voice, it's nice."
I took a deep breath and continued.
John's hand returns to its previous position, Palm down on Mary's knee. Her hand covers Johns and starts to guide it beyond its earlier boundary while simultaneously increasing the space between her legs. Without speaking a word Mary silently told John the boundary no longer exists. John's hand continues to travel up Mary's thigh. His fingertips dive softly into her skin as they slide under the airy fabric. Their kissing remains slow and heavy. His hand glides from the top to the inside of her thigh, tracing the muscle groups between the front and back of her leg. His hand changes direction when it comes to the crux of her upper thigh and the lace that covers her most sensuous area. His fingers continued to explore a new boundary now, one that leads down a V to a small piece of fabric bridging the gap from one side of her body to the other. He applied smooth pressure as he crossed the bridge of moist fabric. Mary's back arches before John's fingers continued along their route up the other side. One finger at a time breaches Mary's......
"SHHH!" Rings out across the library and not a moment too soon.
I was pretty happy to stop for a moment because I was all worked up and forgot how steamy the scene became.
The mysterious voice from the other aisle says, "It's OK, they're about to close anyways." He followed up by telling me that he enjoyed his time immensely, and would like to do it again.
I asked him if he would like the book now, but there was no response. I repeated the question but again I was met with silence. As I shuffled around the end of the aisle to see the stranger that had been dizzying my mind my heart raced rapidly. I paused at the end of the aisle briefly, took a deep breath and turned the corner. There was no one there, just a dead end aisle mirroring the one that I had been standing in all along. I scanned my surroundings quickly, even leaning over the railing to see the first floor, but no one. After exhausting my search I finally made my way down the old spiral staircase to the counter and checked out the book I had been reading. I was now anxious to take it home and read the rest. That evening as I read the words from the book they echoed in my head as his voice. I wished he were there to read them to me. I needed to know more, hear more, see more. I had to know who this man was.
The minutes drug into hours and the hours drug into a new day until I returned to my small library. I eagerly climb the steps to my second floor perch. I was disappointed as I looked down each aisle and found that I was all alone. As I made my way back to my favorite aisle I saw a note wedged between the pages of a hardback book and inserted into the shelf backwards. It was placed in such a way to catch my eye. On the note were the words,
Chapter 8 paragraph two, I believe you'll find this intriguing. Please read it aloud. No peeking if you still have hopes of forgetting to breathe.
I couldn't help but quickly look through the narrow gap created by the mismatched book heights. I caught movement and then nothing.
His voice broke my search."No peeking."
I snapped to attention like a kid that got caught doing something they shouldn't.
"The book, please continue." He said.
I opened the book to chapter 8. The title read, A Stranger's Touch.
I felt a lump in my throat as my fingers traced the words to find paragraph two. I'm nervous as I started to read.
He interrupted me and said, "I watched you as you left yesterday. A woman who carries herself with as much grace and beauty as you should not be so self conscious, please continue."
His observations and smooth voice helped to calm my nerves but also add to the questions mounting in my mind. I tried to push them aside as I started to read the text again.
She knew she had no real reason to trust this stranger. After all she had only met him 24hrs earlier and would never see him again after tonight. A part of her wanted to run away. The part that society has conditioned to make rational decisions, but she couldn't. He moves closer behind her, his head laid over to reach her neck. She can feel the heat of his body as he kisses her behind the ear. His fingers have hooked the small satin strings between her neck and shoulders and lifted them slightly. He drags each one to the outer edge of her shoulders and releases them. Her dress begins to fall from her body until it catches on her now erect nipples. The fabrics trail is chased down her arms by his large hands until he finishes the job and she is standing completely naked. The fact she doesn't even know his name makes it more exciting than wrong to her. He wraps one of his hands around the front of her neck and tips her head back by her jaw until his lips meet hers. Her hands reach behind her to his hips and dig into his skin pulling him closer until the space between body's disappear. She can feel his warm erection throbbing between her ass cheeks as she pushes into him.
I had to stop my reading. I was so turned on. From over my shoulders I hear that voice that dominated my dreams last night ask me if I was OK.
I responded, "Yes, I guess."
"You guess," he replies.
"It's just so strange. Who are you?" I question.
"Do you really want to know or is it more exciting not knowing like the character in the story?" He replied. "If it's more comfortable, I can continue where you left off," he continued.
I thought about it for a moment until I felt like the women in the story. I wondered if I should run but I can't. The intrigue of what's next is intoxicating. I tell him I would like it if he would finish.
"Will you follow my voice as I read?" he said.
