I spent last Christmas Eve trying to have an orgasm in public. I told myself it was a new holiday tradition but I was really trying to forget my loneliness. My parents had split up earlier in the year and had started their own Christmas traditions, my mother with her boyfriend and my father on a company cruise. Being away from my dad hurt the most since I always considered myself daddy's little girl, and I hoped that in between his bouts of boozing and bedding waitresses he had time to think about me.
With the students and staff gone for the holidays I could've masturbated almost anywhere without being seen, but the deserted campus only reminded me of how isolated I was. So I spent the afternoon in the basement stacks of the library. It was the only place open on campus, and since the stacks were always deserted during the year I didn't feel like anything was amiss. The only other person was the batty old librarian three floors above.
I had brought my favourite trashy romance, a tale of shirtless pirates and bosomy wenches that never failed to get me off. I reached under my skirt as the youngest wench was taken up in strong arms, powerless against the one-eyed pirate, his throbbing member plundering her virginity. I could feel myself getting hot as he plunged into her and squeezed her breasts. But no matter how many times I touched myself under my panties I couldn't get wet. It was all too fake, the macho pirate, the helpless belle. I was in the mood for something, or someone, real, someone like my father. He was thinner and older. I imagined him in his swimming trunks on the cruise, boisterous with booze, hitting on some blonde airhead, grinning his sheepish smile. And suddenly I imagined him smiling at me. I had never had thoughts about my dad like this, but as the damp patch grew between my legs and my scent wafted up from under the table I didn't fight it. I reached under my skirt again, closing my eyes, tracing the outline of my swollen lips, picturing my father telling me what a good girl I was...
And then a man coughed. "Oh, pardon, sorry."
I closed my legs and spun around. He walked out from behind the shelf into the main aisle behind me. He was in his late thirties, slim, with thinning hair and a goatee, dressed in khakis and a black polo shirt. It was a typical dad outfit that could have easily been dorky if he hadn't filled out the shirt so well. He must have come down to the basement and towards my table while I had been distracted with my fatherly thoughts. I should have been mad at him, but he was blushing so hard I had to smile. He clutched his black bag and coat strategically in front of his groin.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I wasn't watching you. I mean, I was just getting a look, I mean, BOOK." He plucked a dusty volume off the shelf. "Here it is!"
"It's alright," I said, still smiling. I motioned to a chair at the adjacent side of the table. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." He fumbled with his bag and his book and his coat as he set them on the table and sat down. "I didn't think there would be anyone else here. Usually no one's in the library this time of –"
His eyes fixed on my face and then dropped to the plunging point of my v-neck sweater. Then he blushed even harder and looked down at his book. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."
"I don't mind at all." I couldn't get the grin off my face. I raised my hand. "I'm Maya."
He looked at the hand and then back at me. He knew exactly what I had been doing with that hand. "Ryan," he said. He had a secure grip. As we shook I noticed his wedding band.
He gazed at me for a moment and then quickly let go. "Well," he stammered, "better get back to my book."
"Alright," I said with a lilt in my voice.
I raised my book and he opened his. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him glance at my breasts. His adam's apple bobbed up and down. I slowly leaned forward, in case he wanted a better view. He spent the next fifteen minutes on the same page occasionally stealing a peek at my chest. I was on the same page too. The pirate was still ravishing his whore but now I pictured myself lying down, looking up at Ryan who stood between my legs, thrusting his cock into me, wearing an oversized pirate's hat and a pirate's outfit that hung off his slim frame. It was cute, but hot, and I shifted my legs to accommodate the tingling between my thighs. I could smell myself again and when I looked up at Ryan he was wearing a toothy grin at looking right at me.
"So, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"
It was a lame line, as lame as the lines my dad used. I always wondered how he had been able to cheat on mom with lines like that. Now, as Ryan smiled at me, I was beginning to understand.
"Just trying something new," I said.
"And what would that be?" He motioned towards my book and I realized that this whole time he could see the breathless maiden draped across the bare chest of the pirate on the cover.
"Trying a change of scenery?" he said. "I can dig that."
"You, sir, have a dirty mind," I said coyly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with your family?"
He fumbled with his wedding band. "You'd think that, wouldn't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just wanted some time alone. Things are stressful at home." He took a deep breath. "I didn't think there would be anyone else here."
