It was hot and humid the summer between my junior and senior year in college when I took an extra credit, independent study class to make up for credit I lost when I transferred. I didn't attend a traditional class. Instead, my professor and I agreed on a topic that I would write a paper about and we met every two weeks for lunch and to discuss my progress and debate assumptions and approaches.
My "classroom" was a long library table on the bottom floor of the university's library. I would go there a couple of times a week to escape the heat and because it was quiet and deserted, particularly in the summer. I had staked out the table as my working place. I would leave my research materials stacked up in a neat pile when I left. Although the librarians typically put the books away that were left behind, they honored the note I had left my first week asking them to please leave mine on the table.
As mentioned in my story "White and Tan" (which you can read on this website), there was one librarian who caught my eye that summer. He had long, thick, straight brown hair that he wore down on his shoulders. He was thin like me and wore "Harry Potter" glasses years before they were popularized by the movie. I saw him regularly but didn't pick up any signals from him until one day when I was leaving the library with a guy I met in the bathroom (again, see "White and Tan"). Walking out of the library that day the librarian gave me a smile and an almost imperceptible wink.
A few days later, my paper finished and submitted, I returned to the library to clean up my table. Sitting on top of the research books I was using was a multi-colored sucker. There was a yellow sticky note attached to the wrapper, it read: "Something sweet to suck on." I knew immediately who it was from. I just knew.
As I was stacking my books in the rolling return bin my cute librarian appeared from around the corner.
"Finished with your work?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "the paper's in and now I get to see what my professor thinks. Thanks for letting me leave these books out every day."
"No problem," he said. "It's not like these tables are in high demand in the summer."
We talked for a little bit. He asked me about my paper and I told him about it. I followed him around the stacks as he returned my books to the shelves, handing them to him as we went along. It was about ten to five on a Friday night and the library closed at 5. We walked upstairs and I noted that the place was empty.
He smiled and said, "We're all alone in here. I've locked the place up for the night. I just need to walk through the library and make sure there are no stragglers and then I can leave." When he smiled two dimples popped out at each corner of his mouth.
"Want company as you walk around," I asked. He nodded yes and we began our inspection, which really meant checking the third and main floors, since he'd already checked the basement.
As we were walking I took the sucker out of my back pocket. "By any chance," I asked, "did you leave this for me?" He said that he had, smiled and added: "I thought you'd be here for a few more days and would like to have something to suck on while you work."
"Thank you," I said. "It's very thoughtful, but truthfully it's a bit sweeter than what I like to suck on."
He again smiled at that and we continued to make our rounds, checking cubicles, study carrels, offices and the long aisles of books. When we finished on the main floor, about a half hour later, he thanked me for walking with him. Aside from my lame joke about the sucker, we'd not said anything during our walk that was suggestive of sex, not even remotely. I was beginning to have my doubts...
Standing in the now darkened lobby of the library I got up my nerve and asked him whether he had plans for the night. "No immediate plans," he replied, "I was just going to go home, make some dinner, and read a book."
I could feel the tension in the air. This was the moment and we both either seized on it or let it get away. Before I could respond, he smiled, reached out and put his hands on my shoulders. He drew me close to him. It was only about 5:30 and it was still light outside, but with all of the lights except the emergency lights off in the library it was a grey-dark inside. He drew me closer and his lips found mine, opening on contact. His tongue slid into my open mouth and licked my tongue, and then my tongue slid past his and found the inside of his mouth. My hands reached up and started to unbutton his shirt. He grabbed my t-shirt from the bottom and, leaning out from our kiss, quickly dragged my t-shirt over my head. I used the moment to slip his shirt off his shoulders.
He smiled again and said something about this being more interesting than his book. I looked him up and down once again. His dark hair was parted in the middle and fell to his shoulders. He tucked it behind each ear and was constantly pushing one side back or the other. Thinking back, I'd say his face reminds me know of Tim Lyncecum, the two-time Cy Young winner who used to pitch for the Giants. Same deep dimples and a slightly narrow face set off by a puffy pair of lips. His eyes were soulful.
We realized that we were standing in the reception area in front of the windows and doors and anyone peering in might get a pretty good show. "My place is just 3 minutes away," I told him. He smiled and said, "maybe, but I know a place we can go that is much closer and probably cooler." Bending down to pick up his shirt and mine, he took me by the hand; I followed him back down the stairs to the library's basement. At the foot of the stairs was a door to a room that I'd never seen open. It had no sign on it and I doubt anyone ever gave it any thought. He produced a key, unlocked the door and we stepped in.
We were in a large storage area that included shelving, chairs, books and tables. The room was about 20 feet wide and about 35 feet deep. At the far end of the room a rug had been thrown on the floor. On top of the rug and facing each other were two leather couches that looked the same as the ones upstairs in the reading room but slightly more beat up.
"What is this place," I asked.
"Storage," he replied. "As far as I can tell no one comes in here. I set the couches up that way earlier in the summer just as a joke."