First I must apologize, dear reader, for the delay in bringing you this second installment of young Chloe's tale. While Chloe and I suffer different challenges in the Academy, her deadlines are not so hard written as my own.
On that note, it was necessary to greatly expand and revise chapter one in order to make chapter two possible. The expanded material is presented here, in the interest of clarity. If you haven't read the first chapter please do so, otherwise this entry will make absolutely no sense.
And one final note, I have filed this story under "Mind Control" as that is the overarching theme of the novella length piece I hope this to become, but this chapter could fit equally well under Erotic Horror, or perhaps several other categories. So please do read on, but consider yourself warned.
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Ch. 1.5
Standing at the opposite end of the long room Thomas struggled to make sense of the last few seconds. A librarian by nature as well as training, he preferred to have his thoughts organized before making conclusions, but what had just transpired defied rational description. Peering around the edge of the door he had just swung open on it's creaking hinges, he saw Chloe fleeing out the back door an instant before it slammed shut. The air at the other end of the room appeared to shimmer, as though Thomas was looking down an asphalt road on a hot day, rather than down the length of one of the oldest library reading rooms in the world.
The floor to ceiling windows to Thomas's left cast bright shafts of daylight every few feet, unusual for Britain in the fall, alternatively the spaces between windows were virtually uniluminated, black with shadow. In the light, golden motes of dust hovered suspended in the air. Surely the unusual light accounted for the disturbance to his vision, Thomas thought. But nothing could remove from his mind the hard "c" of Chloe's voice begging to come, which still seemed to echo from one end of the room to the other, pounding on his eardrums with each pass of the sound waves. Chloe had been talking to someone, he was certain of it. But no, talking was the wrong word, she was pleading, making a desperate entreaty to some unknown man or woman that had brought her to such arousal. And frustrated academic or not, the sound of an orgasming woman was not entirely unfamiliar to Thomas.
He didn't think of himself as a great lover, he knew he was sometimes too eager, and occasionally too quick. But he liked to think he made up for his faults in generosity and thoroughly refined oral technique. In fact, his favorite joy in the bedroom was employing his talented tongue to tease his partners to the edge of bliss and keeping them there for interminable amounts of time before allowing them release.
Thomas had moved slowly to the center aisle between the great oak tables, each which sat twelve, arranged in two rows down the length of the room. He trod lightly, endeavouring to make no sound as he approached the table where Chloe had been working. He had not admitted anyone else to this portion of the library today, and his instincts told him he was alone here. Still, he struggled to see into the shadowed corners, and though walls, and into the small alcoves between the sagging bookshelves. Something here made the hair of the back of his neck stand up, but whatever it was gave no hint of its nature.
As he walked towards the table two thirds of the way down where he had left Chloe earlier Thomas felt he was steadily losing control of his thoughts. He had heard Chloe coming! Damn his eyes why hadn't he come to check on her as soon as he had heard her first cry out? He could have seen her! He had struggled to keep his desire for the young Historian secret to anyone but himself, but secretly he burned for her. All the way from the vault where the oldest volumes were kept to Chloe's workstation he had envisioned what might happen after he finally, after all these weeks, managed to find the courage to make his move. But of course he had wrecked his chance, probably his only one. And now this catastrophe had happened! Clearly she had some lover who had snuck in here to see her, and had managed to depart before Thomas caught a glimpse of him. Or her, Thomas further ruminated, whatever young Chloe's sexual proclivites were (surely she had them?) she kept them well concealed under her matronly attire and the steely expression on her beautiful face.
In his jealousy, and in his imagined fantasies of earlier, Thomas's own arousal began to impose itself on his conscious thoughts; sneaking in from the back corners of his mind. He saw Chloe, as he had imagined her many times, pushed back from her worktable, her single-minded devotion to the old and odd replace by desire for himself. He imagined her, with her woolen skirt pulled up above her pale and muscular thighs, reavealing the downy hair on her sex. He saw himself on his knees before her, gently teasing her clit with his tongue. He imagined her unbuttoning her sweater show the creamy skin of her breasts, to run her hands over her engorged pink nipples. He almost could feel her twisting her fingers in his own red hair as he pleasured her. Her voice that he heard echoing earlier began to change, and it was he to whom Chloe made her impassioned pleas. "Make me come Thomas!" she wailed in his mind, as he curled a long finger inside her to push on the spot he knew would send her over the edge.
All of these fantasies flying about Thomas's mind in such an inappropriate place at such an inappropriate time were the residual effects of the magic unleashed in full upon Chloe earlier, though he had no idea, nor any way possible to understand that this was what was happening to him now.
A dozen steps from Chloe's table, which was still burdened with the old book he himself had brought her, Thomas stopped in his tracks. He was rooted to the floor in shock at the aroma that had just drifted past; and he knew it exactly, at once. He had never given this smell words, nor had anything he'd ever read given it a description he found satisfactory. To him arousal smelled like arousal and that was that. And even though it was always the same and he always knew it for what it was, it was also as unique to every woman as a fingerprint or a strand of her DNA. And this was Chloe's! This was how she smelled!
He reeled, drunk on his own need and the smell of the woman for whom he longed, and there on the chair that Chloe had shoved back so roughly in her flight from this room was the source of the scent. A small pool of clear fluid no larger than a half dollar coin lay there. Odd that such a small amount could overpower Thomas's senses to such a degree, some back corner of his mind reported in, completely unnoticed by the rest of his conciousness. His sense of decorum was gone entirely now. He would be shocked at his own behavior if he saw himself doing what he was doing now, falling to his knees, entranced by this pool of clear liquid, and the thoughts ricocheting of the interior of his skull would shame such an outwardly proper man. But still he moved ahead, Thomas was barely aware of releasing the top button of his trousers with his right hand as he stretched out his trembling left toward Chloe's vacated chair. He was fully hard inside his pants, without having touched himself at all previously, he noted to his mild surprise.
Inhaling deeply, he bent toward the chair. He had intended to touch it, to feel it with his fingertips, only to confirm that it was what he believed this substance to be. But that wouldn't do now, he dropped his outstretched hand and bent towards the gift that Chloe had left him. As he moved his head forward to partake of this sacrament, his vision began to narrow and the little pool almost seemed to glow. Thomas couldn't help himself now, even though some part of his mind knew what he was about to do was disgusting. He was going to lick that chair. He was going to lap up Chloe's juice that she had left behind from an encounter with some other lover and he was going to like it. Now without will, without volition, with nothing existing at all but the smell, and soon enough the taste of Chloe, he bowed his head and extended his tongue.
Flavor and inexplicable visions exploded through Thomas's mind the instant his tongue met the little pool. "This was Chloe!" his mind rang! Here. This. This was all he ever wanted forever. All his harbored fantasies and things he never even recalled imagining before raced through his head, and tore down his spine, and exploded out of his cock, far surpassing the power of any orgasm he had ever experienced before. He immediately felt faint, his cock still pulsing in his hand, the taste of Chloe's arousal on his tongue, everything began to go dark. "I love you, Chloe," was the young man's last conscious thought before collapsing to the hardwood floor in a heap.
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