The trolley holding the return library books was filling quickly. Claire glanced over, thinking she had better place the books back onto the shelves, before it got even busier. Towards the weekend, more people came in to find books to relax with on their days away from work. Claire had always loved books, so when she managed to land a job in her local library, she couldn't believe her luck. She had done pretty well at school because of her love to read, and had left school with 9 O levels. The trouble was the job hadn't required qualifications to that extent. She was aware that her knowledge was going to waste. Luckily she no longer lived with her parents; they had wanted something more for her. Claire enjoyed the job, so she intended to stay. She loved to watch the different types of people and the sort of books they chose to read. Especially the young men.
Or one man in particular.
She wondered if he would be in today. The thought of him made her feel excited inside, sending a pulsing wave of desire through her. What if he didn't come in today? She tried not to think of that possibility. Her desire for him was so much that she ached inside at the thought of being without him. Claire had started earlier this morning, wanting that little time by herself just to think. Amongst the older books, in the reference section, she would sit, taking in the odour of the leather covers, the musty pages. She had first discovered the smell of books whilst she was exploring her Grandfathers house. At the age of 8, it had made an impression on her that she was unable to forget. From that moment on, her passion for manuscripts had increased. Her whole life seemed to be dominated by her love of books, but she was careful not to bore other people with the subject.
She even thought that she had found somebody to share that love with her. Then a book was placed on the counter in front of her, to be stamped, jolting her out of her daydream. She thought for a moment that it was he and looked up quickly, expecting to see his smiling face.
It wasn't him.
An old gentleman with a walking stick stood waiting impatiently. His frustration apparent in the whole of his manner. 'Come on girl, less of this wasting time. Bloody young 'uns.' Ignoring him, she hurriedly stamped the book, and watched him walk towards the exit door, keeping her eyes on it for a moment to see if he would walk through. The desire she felt inside now was starting to burn her up. Claire thought it best if she placed all the returns on the shelves, try and take her mind off him. There was one part of the library that Claire liked to go, especially when she was feeling nostalgic. Right at the back, there was an archive of some of the oldest book in the country. Although it was open to the public, very few came down there. It held some rare books and the rules stated that staff was to be in the vicinity at all times. She loved this place even more than the library itself. It was quiet, and though a little bit musty; it was kept free of dust. A couple of chairs had been placed as a token, but were seldom used. Placing the last of the books on the shelf, she wandered down to the archive. It was dark, so sunlight didn't fade the, already old, pages. She lovingly ran her fingers over a line of books, enjoying the smell and touch.
She was so engrossed in the feel of the books; she failed to notice the man at the end of the shelves. He suddenly came out of the shadows, and grabbed her wrist. Claire gasped, wondering what was happening for a moment, and then she saw it was he. He was here. She hadn't even seen him come in. Now, he was so close to her, she could hardly breathe. His fingers evoked a reaction in her, that she was unable to control. Her heart began to beat wildly, accelerating with each second he held her. "I didn't see you coming in." she started to say, but he gently placed a finger on her lips. There was no time for talk.
