It was a dull, wet weekday in late July 2011, the kind of day that made you feel that summer was over and autumn had well and truly arrived. Heavy drops of cold rain splashed onto roads and pavements and dripped from every tree, before flowing in torrents along gutters and into drains. Emily skipped between puddles on her way to the bus stop, her umbrella, raincoat and knee length brown suede boots having their first outing since early spring.
It had been unusually hot since late May, but Emily had been unable to enjoy the good weather. Her mother had died two weeks ago after an illness lasting several months. She'd lived with, and cared for, her elderly parent for most of her life but, at the age of thirty seven, she suddenly found herself alone in the world.
Emily was a somewhat introverted woman, she had no real friends. She had worked as an assistant librarian since she had given up on university, after one year of loneliness and anxiety away from home in the mid 1990's. She was, petite and attractive with blue eyes, and wore her long red hair in a ponytail. She had a good figure, but she always wore well cut but slightly frumpy clothes which made her look older than her years. She was shy and a little timid by nature and she was still a virgin.
Her mother's house, her house now, was a three bedroom post war semi-detached property in the suburbs. She caught the bus to work every weekday, and had been coming home each evening to look after her ageing mother. Her mother had given birth to Emily late in life, at the age of forty-eight. Her father had died when she was twelve and she remembered little of him, except that he was a distant and rather serious man.
Her mother had become semi incapacitated when Emily was in her late teens. Emily had devoted herself to her mother, and had had very little time for doing the things that other young people did, like going dancing or to the cinema. She'd had one date with a boy when she was eighteen and he was nineteen. She gone out with him not because she fancied or particularly liked him, but because it was the 'normal' thing to do. He'd seemed decent and friendly, not like most of the boys she'd been to school with, but she'd changed her mind about him when she'd let him kiss her, and he'd tried to put his hands inside her bra.
Other girls, and the women's magazines that she occasionally read, were full of tales of falling in love, getting married and settling down, but this had never appealed to Emily. She'd had a crush on her form teacher, Miss Silverdale, in her last couple of years at school. The kind young teacher had tried to give Emily more confidence, and to bring her out of herself by trying to get her interested in the chess club, outdoor pursuits and the school choir, but it had been to no avail. Emily just wasn't the sort of person that joined clubs or societies, she preferred keeping herself to herself.
Her sexual self exploration had been limited. She'd played with herself infrequently and had seldom achieved full orgasm. Her confused fantasies had started with thoughts of male film and tv stars, but had become disjointed and incoherent when images of Miss Silverdale, or perhaps one of her regular female customers at the library, had filled her thoughts. She thought that she'd had an orgasm maybe twice over the years; both times on a Christmas Eve after she had put her mother to bed and allowed herself a couple of glasses of sherry. She didn't usually drink so, feeling rather uninhibited, she'd let go of her usual self control, put her hand up her skirt, slipped her fingers inside her panty leg and touched herself. She'd imagined herself naked in bed with Miss Silverdale. Each time she'd felt an overwhelming sensation of arousal in her vagina, followed by waves of pleasure, but she'd immediately felt ashamed and had not allowed herself to enjoy the experience. The last such occasion had been the previous Christmas, and she'd sworn never to let it happen again.
She had resigned herself to life as a spinster with no prospect of sexual activity. She'd decided that she probably had a low sex drive and was perhaps even asexual, a notion that was challenged from time to time when she found herself sitting next to a pretty young woman on the bus. In fact, she often tried to sit next to one attractive regular female passenger whenever the opportunity presented itself. The girl often got the same bus and if it was crowded, and their arms or thighs pressed against each other, Emily felt a thrill that made her pussy tingle.
There was no sign of the girl on the bus on this wet morning, so Emily continued to think about the arrangements she had made to deal with her mother's clothes and possessions. The next day was Saturday and she'd resolved to take her mother's clothes to a local charity shop, before setting about sorting and dealing with all of the paperwork that she had kept in the locked writing desk in the lounge.
On arrival at work, Emily made herself a coffee and then set about beginning to replace returned books back onto the bookshelves. There were four staff on duty: Mrs Fensome, the senior librarian; Penny, an assistant librarian; Jo, an administrative assistant; and Emily. At sixty nine years of age, Mrs Fensome was the last member of staff in the department to insist on being addressed formally by junior staff; she gave the same privilege to staff senior to her. She had also batted away numerous suggestions that she might retire, and had told the head of department politely, but in no uncertain terms, that she would go when she was ready and not before.
During her break, Emily took a book, on the legal aspects of family bereavement, with her to the staff kitchen. She soon became bored with reading that it paid to act sooner rather than later, but it doubled her resolve to find the key to the writing desk so that she could ensure that there were no nasty surprises.
Shortly after lunch, Miss Roseberry, the new Assistant Head Librarian, visited the library to meet with Mrs Fensome. After the meeting, she had a look around and introduced herself to the other staff. Emily was the last to be seen, she'd hidden away between bookshelves, in a section of the library closed to the public, pretending to be busy and hoping to avoid having to engage in small talk with a senior officer.
Miss Roseberry had been with the service for six weeks. She was ensuring that she had visited all twenty three libraries in the city before she'd been in post for six months. She was a tall, attractive woman of fifty-two years of age. Rumour's had already circulated that she was divorced from her husband and now lived with a woman. The rumours had been true, until her lover had refused to move from London to the provincial northern city where her new job was based. She now lived alone and had already frequented several of the city's lesbian bars so that she could get a feel for the lesbian scene in the area of her new home.
She found Emily at the end of two rows of bookshelves and, dressed in a smart pale grey pencil skirted business suit and black high heels, she approached her with a sexy saunter and a sway of her hips. She very quickly eyed Emily up in her tight fitting, oatmeal coloured, polo-neck sweater and mid brown knee length loose skirt, with her old brown suede boots. She saw an attractive woman who was doing her best to hide it, and she quickly decided to take more than just a professional interest in her.
"Hello, you must be Emily, I'm Vivian Roseberry, I've heard a lot about you and it's all been good. Do you enjoy your work here?"
"Er, y-yes Miss Roseberry, it's er, I mean it's very er..."
"Call me Vivian, and there's no need to be so nervous, I don't bite."
"Oh, sorry, I'm er... sorry."
"And don't apologise, I don't know why us women feel the need to apologise all of the time."
