The Stacks

7I really should introduce myself a little before I tell you about Natalie and the stacks. I'm 38 years old; a single mom - widow, actually - with a fourteen year old daughter. I have a degree in library science and work in the library at a local university. I don't date very much - not that I couldn't. I run or work out just about every day and at 5"6", 126 pounds with firm 34b's, still have a good figure. I also have a nice, if not pretty face, and thanks to my husband's estate and my job, can dress and live well. No, it's just that the good guys seem mostly seem to be taken. Trite, I know, but true.

As my girlfriend Jenny says "If they aren't married by this time - there's a reason and, baby, you don't want to know what it is!" Of course, all of this is another way of saying that sex is pretty much a solitary activity these days. Not that I mind orgasms for one, but it would be nice to be held and caressed, maybe even kissed someplace other than on the cheek.....Anyway that's all about me, except of course for Julie, my daughter, light of my life, giggling partner and all around best friend who would be pretty shocked if she know what her mom was about to tell you.

I first noticed Natalie about two months ago. Every third week I have to work from 4:00 p.m. to midnight, when the library closes. She came in about 7:00 one Monday evening and, I noticed her in part, because she was older than most of the other students, early thirties I guessed. She was also quite elegant looking, even in a simple skirt and sweater, with polished nails, white creamy skin and short, but beautifully done auburn hair. As she signed in, I saw that she wore a wedding ring and I thought that she was either a married grad student, or more probably a professional person, doing some research. She carried a small leather attache bag and went directly to a computer terminal.

I went back to work and had stopped thinking about her, when she came up to my desk with a list. Giving me a quick smile, she handed it to me and asked if I would help her find the references on it. Looking at the piece of paper, I was both a little embarrassed and intrigued. She had a list of items from Nancy Friday's Secret Garden to articles from Girlfriend and On Our Backs magazines. Some of the titles I didn't recognize, but those I did were almost all female erotica, dealing mainly with masturbation. The source of my embarrassment is obvious, but what intrigued me was that almost any high school girl could have found these references. I wondered why she needed help or if she just wanted to make sure someone (me? whoever was at the desk?) knew what she intended to read and was interested in doing.

Taking the list from her, I walked out from behind the desk to help her find the books and articles she wanted. It took about 30 minutes, after which she thanked me, giving me a tight little smile. Then she headed for the old metal framed stacks in the back of the library. My mind was still buzzing with the titles we had pulled, and I would have liked to follow her, but there were a couple of people standing at the research desk, so I went back to work. And as the night wore on, I stopped thinking about her until she signed out. I spun the register around after she left and took note of her name: Natalie.

She came in twice more that week, each time going first to the computer to look up titles and then coming to me for help in pulling them. Some were the same books or pieces she had pulled the last time, but I didn't say anything - she seemed to want to make sure I knew what she was reading and that fascinated me. She dressed simply, but well, favoring skirts with buttons down the front or side and cashmere sweaters or a silk blouse. The last time she came in that week, I managed to follow behind her at a discrete distance to see where she went in the stacks. She had found a small nook that was quite private. It had a desk and was bordered on the sides by the backs of large filing cabinets. In the rear it butted up against the wall of a glassed enclosed, air conditioned room where fragile reference material is kept. The glass room is normally used only during the working day, so it was dark and empty. I knew that from inside I could get a pretty good view of her, but from any other vantage all one would see would be her back.

Letting myself into the glass room, without turning on the lights, I walked quietly around the shelves until I could see her from a slightly oblique angle. I was standing in the dark, next to a row of books about five or six feet from her. Peering between the volumes, I saw her facing me, sitting slightly away from the desk. Her skirt was unbuttoned all the way up and she wasn't wearing panties. Her legs were spread wide, her hand between them, moving slowly up and down against her swollen pussy and caressing the inside of her thighs, her bright red nails contrasting erotically with the soft white skin. She was staring at something on the desk in front of her, I suppose reading one of the references we had pulled, slowly stroking herself.

I found, to my surprise, that the scene in front of me was rather arousing and I felt that old familiar tingle start between my own legs. I had never seen another woman doing that to herself, unless you count the time I had accidentally walked in on Julia in the bathroom. (That had been a little embarrassing for both of us, but we had had a frank discussion and I let her know that masturbation was a normal activity that most people, myself included, enjoy.) This of course, was quite different. I watched Natalie for several minutes, and had begun to wonder how she continue to touch herself with such studied indifference, when suddenly she closed her eyes and slipped lower in her chair. Her head went back a bit as she brought both of her hands to her crotch. Her pussy was very open now and clearly glistening with moisture. As she separated her lips with one hand, I could see her clit standing up, clear of its sheath. She started flicking it with the middle finger of her left hand, while she ran two fingers of her right up and down her slit. Dipping into herself, she brought her moisture back up to her clitty to lubricate the fingers dancing over the little button.

With even realizing it, my right hand had slipped into my slacks and under my cotton panties. I was very wet and could feel myself opening. My eyes were riveted on Natalie as I ran my fingers up and down my swollen inner lips, which are very large and sensitive. I felt myself going a little weak in the knees and couldn't believe I was actually masturbating in the dark, in the glass room, while watching a woman I'd barely met, do herself. The thought made me hotter and without willing it, I felt my thumb start rubbing my erect clitty while my fingers started to push up and into me.

Natalie by this time was very close. Her fingers were furiously pumping in and out as she continued to rub her clit. Suddenly, I saw her stiffen and then start to shake, her mouth wide open, but without sound. Her eyes squeezed shut and her right hand all but disappeared inside of her;

she ground her palm into her button as her body started to convulse and her bottom lifted off the chair. About that time, without even expecting it, I went off like a firecracker. I had to reach for one of the shelves to steady myself and stifle my urge to moan as waves of pleasure washed over me and I felt my insides spasm and spasm. By the time my head started to clear, Natalie was wiping herself off and buttoning her skirt. I desperately wanted to be at the front desk when she signed out, but I didn't see how I could get out of the glass room before she left her cubicle, so I hung back in the shadows waiting for her leave. As she gathered her things, she suddenly looked into the dark glass wall in front of her and smiled. She could have been smiling at her reflection in the dark glass, but it almost felt like she was smiling at me. Then she left.

I went on days the following Monday and wasn't in the library at night again for over two weeks. I had lots of time to mull over and relieve what I had witnessed with Natalie. At night, in my bed, I would think about red fingernails against her white thighs, her manicured fingers dipping into her swollen pussy and flicking her erect little clit. And I would masturbate myself to lovely orgasms, wanting to see it all over again and again. During the day I wonder about her motivation, her desires. I kept coming back to that list and her insistence that I (or someone?) help her pull those books and articles each time she came into the library. The inescapable conclusion was that she wanted me to know what she was thinking about doing. And not only that. Her choice of that particular cubicle, way in the back away from everything, facing the glass room made me think she wanted me to see her doing it. And I wanted to see her, too, so I decided to test my little hypothesis. I wrote a story about a librarian watching a woman patron masturbate back in the stacks, and planned to slip it into her pile of material the next time she came in.

She didn't come into the library until Thursday of my next evening shift. I had just about given up seeing her again, when I looked up from my desk and there she was, standing in front of me. Giving me her tight little smile, she reached out those lovely manicured fingers with the red nails and gave me her list. Almost wordlessly, we went through the aisles and pulled her material. As I handed her the last periodical, I slipped a copy of my two page story into it and, then went back to my desk.

I let a couple of minutes pass for Natalie to settle herself and then told the grad student working with me that I was going to be in the stacks for a while. Letting myself into the glass room, I took up the same position between the shelves and watched. Natalie was sitting at the desk, her head in her hands reading. I couldn't see exactly what. After a moment, she pushed back a little and reached down to undo the large pin holding the her little kilt together. Pushing the fabric aside, she spread her legs and again I saw that she wasn't wearing any panties. Reaching up, she unbuttoned the front of her white blouse and as her left hand disappeared inside her blouse, her right started gently caressing the lips of her already swollen pussy. I had felt my own moisture start as soon as Natalie had walked in that evening, and reaching up under my skirt, I found my panties already quite wet. Pushing them down over my thighs, I let them fall around my ankles, careful to step out of them without falling.

Bringing my hand back up, I started to stroke myself in time with Natalie's movements. My other hand found its way under my sweater and pushed my bra up, letting my breasts fall free. Twisting and pulling at my nipples, my eyes stayed glued to Natalie. I felt my breath quicken as she suddenly slipped off her shoes and brought her knees up, resting her stockinged feet on the seat of the chair. I could see straight into that lovely, soaked puss, as her fingers continued to move up and down, stroking her lips and circling up and over her erect button, then dropping back down again into the wet folds of her flesh. Her other hand, which had been moving back and forth against her breasts suddenly dropped down to her crotch. Her lovely orbs fell free for a moment as she looked down at herself, the nipples erect and angry looking. Then leaning back again, she started rubbing herself in earnest, the fingers of her left hand dancing back and forth over her clitty, those of the right moving up and down inside those wet lips, faster and faster.

Suddenly, her head went back and her eyes closed, as she pressed the palm of her right hand tight against her clit and started moving its fingers in and out of her vagina. Pushing down on her right hand with her left, she started bucking up against those penetrating fingers, seemingly trying to push them deeper and deeper. By now, the thumb of my right hand was rubbing back and forth across my clit, while my fingers plumbed the depth of my own vagina. My left hand was twisting and pulling my right nipple and I was getting very, very close. At that moment, Natalie's butt fell back into the chair and her legs shot out in front of her almost hitting the desk. As her stocking feet curled, I could see her hand pulsing with the spasms that were going through her body, causing her to almost knock her chair over. I went off then, too, cumming in a warm cascade all over the fingers still deep within me. I felt the waves wash over and over me, spinning me and then gradually bringing me back to earth. When I finally was able to look out again at Natalie, she had taken a little cloth from her bag and was wiping her fingers and the inside of her thighs. I groped around on the floor for my panties, and then used them to clean myself up as well. Wondering what to do with them (I couldn't very well put them back on or just leave them on the floor) I finally tossed them on top of one of the shelves. Turning back, I saw that Natalie had gotten all of her things together and was about to leave. Once more, she looked directly at the glass wall and smiled. Then she turned around and left.

I waited a few minutes and then let myself out. When I got back to my desk I asked the grad student if anything had happened. Nothing, he said, except that a woman had dropped a note on my desk as she went out. I could feel my heart starting to pound again, as I picked up the piece of folded paper. Opening it, I saw that it was the story I had slipped into one of Natalie's periodicals. Across the bottom she had written "Now that you've watched me twice, how do we arrange for me to watch you? Natalie."

I felt my pussy start to get very moist again.