Robert quietly filed books away. That was what he did and that's what he was good at. In fact, that's all that he was good at; a glorified sorting algorithm in a library no one really cared about. There was little praise and glory to be found hiding in untraveled corridors, witnessed by nothing more than the old dusty manuscripts and hardbound books which contained knowledge that ceased to be important mere days after it was transcribed.
But Robert did not want for adventure. Enough adventure found its way to him through his friend Clair; an accomplished knight in the local regiment assigned to protect the town of Cassrich. They'd known each other since childhood and though they now had separate vocations, they liked to keep in contact with each other. Clair always had stories of tremendous valor to share and when they went to a bar together they were always keen on started a big barroom brawl much to the chagrin of local establishments.
Quite frankly Robert didn't think he had the capacity to start a fight but each time Clair assured him that she would always play the part of the voice of reason. He found the idea laughable but hard to contest since he was so bad with liquor the times he did drink he ended up blacking out the entire evening. That was also a part of why he needed his job. Reportedly he'd caused enough significant damage to the Dancing Pixie to warrant a steep fine which gobbled up most of his money. Clair was always eager to buy him a drink but likely not for entirely altruistic reasons.
It was around this time that he and Clair would find a local bar to crash but his miser of a boss Mr. Grant made him stay late to file more books. Unfortunately, a group of local scholars went on a sort of intellectual crusade, picking out any and every book for god knows what reason. Robert never trusted scholars, men who were paid to think. The sort of work they do cannot be measured so he felt it was likely that all of them were a bunch of louts that couldn't be arsed to do any sort of labor at all.
Merely reflecting on his situation cause enough anger for him to slam a book back into place. Wincing, he gingerly removed the tome to find that he creased its bound leather coverings. No matter, he would blame the damage on the scholars. For intellectual men they certainly had a disdain for the printed word and did enough damage to keep him on the restoration job for weeks to come.
The anger didn't stem from being forced to work late though admittedly it probably played a part, his outburst was the result of his inability to go out drinking. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he would see Clair as well. Especially tonight, he had planned to tell her how he felt. Well, thinking about planning to tell her. No, that's not right; he was considering thinking about planning to tell her.
Oh who am I kidding? He thought. I've been trying to tell her how I feel for years, why would tonight be any different?
Having again managed to depress himself, Robert stacked the books he was carrying on the floor and made his way to a nearby bench. Who was he kidding? There's no way she would go for a guy like him, sure they were good friends but that's all their depressingly platonic relationship amounted to. In the military there were probably a number of rough and tumble guys who could match her rambunctious nature. He didn't have enough faith in his own alleged drunken brawling to challenge anyone who crossed blades with brigands and monsters for a living.
Being friends is enough at least.
No sooner had he thought that than he become aware of a light coughing coming from somewhere in the darker recesses of the library. Robert tensed, there shouldn't be anyone else in here. Even Mr. Grant had gone home by exercising privileges of being the boss, giving unfavorable hours to his employees, namely him.
With a smooth practiced motion he withdrew a small dagger from his pocket. Clair had given the simple yet elegant blade to him as she had a strange notion that everyone, no matter their station in life, should be armed. He'd practiced with it on several occasions, usually with her guidance as a token of thanks for her concern. He never thought he would need in the library but he kept it with him as a token of her concern for him, one of the precious few he had.
Robert elected not to take the lantern sitting on the table, instead creeping along in the dark in order to get the drop on this mystery sound. He'd always had good night vision so the lack of an on hand lightsource wasn't debilitating. Preserving the element of surprise was more important.
Easing his way down the hallway he could only barely make out where the darkness ended and the bookcases began but their shadowy outlines were enough to see where he was going. In an unusually well lit corner hunched a figure wrapped in a dark cloak, the exact color was difficult to make out but the difference was enough to separate the intruder from the shadows. Not giving his uninvited visitor another second to go on with its sinister lurking, Robert tackled it to the ground and readied his knife.
"Son of a bitch!" The cloak screamed.
He recognized the figure's protests, though he could hardly believe it. "Clair?" he ventured.
"Damnit Robert, get off me!" She shoved the overzealous bookkeeper off her, pulling her hood down in an attempt to affirm her identity. Though her face was too dark to make out any of her features, Robert could recognize that voice and attitude anywhere.
"Clair what are you doing sneaking around in the darkness inside the library? I have thought you'd gone and gotten plastered with the rest of the militia by now. I mean I appreciate you coming to see me but did you even come through the front door?" Robert looked up to find the moon peaking through a small open window. No sane person would think to enter through there but this wasn't terribly out of character for Clair. "Guess that's a no."
"Just felt," she panted. "Like seeing you."
"Well like I said the thought is nice, but how did you even get in?" Robert took her hand and pulled her upright.
"I had some help."
"Anyone I know?"
"Nah."
Leading her out of the darkness so they could have a proper conversation, Robert noticed that below Clair's tattered dark brown cloak she was completely naked. The approaching light of the nearby lantern highlighted the curves of her pale flesh only accentuated by the dark color of the covering. Though nothing especially embarrassing peaked out from the folds of the cloth, he was entirely taken off guard by her exhibitionism.
"Clair. . . why aren't you wearing anything?" He tried his damndest not to look now that he called attention to it but couldn't help sneaking sidelong glances as they walked.
Initially she seemed confused by the question as though this would be perfectly normal for her. While hanging out with Clair had produced some very interesting situations and more than their share of in jokes, she was never one to parade around in her skivvies. Robert only wished he could say the same.
"Oh this?" With a strange, self satisfied grin, she spread her arms, parting the cloak and laid bare everything to him, apparently unconcerned with her own modesty.
Robert thought he would faint from equal parts embarrassment and arousal. Before him stood a vision he'd only seen in his most shameless dreams. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he was completely enthralled by Clair's naked body. She was tall, especially for a women and she was built, attractively so in the acrobatic way that comes from constant physical exertion of the entire body. Her breasts, though modestly sized, hung bare in the musty librarian air while her surprisingly well kept pubic hair did nothing to hide the darker flesh of her folds.
"Robert." Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her hands around him, embracing him right against her soft, supple skin. "How do you feel about me?" she whispered into his ear, a soft and smooth tone served to calm him down, clear his thoughts in spite of the incredibly awkward position they were both in.
"What's this all of the sudden?" he choked. "You jump in through the window in the buff, surprise me at work and then ask how I feel about you?" Robert couldn't tell her the truth, and this was hardly the ideal situation for a declaration of love.
Wasn't it?
"Answer the question." she pleaded in the most heartrending tone he'd ever heard. Her anguish set off another red flag in Robert's mind. She wasn't acting the way she usually did. Sure she was still very direct and a little overbearing but she never talked about either of their feelings or anything emotional before. They just had a good time together.
"Well I guess I consider you a really good friend," he lied. "You know I've never had many of them at one time. I've never been some hero of the people nor a great thinker. I just am. I suppose I just really value our friendship and..."
"And?" she echoed.
"And I'm really glad that we're together. Friends I mean," he added hurriedly. This wasn't the time for that.
"Friends," whispered Clair, still clinging to Robert as though she was hanging on for dear life. Perhaps it was merely his imagination, but Robert could have sworn she started slightly rubbing her body against him. "Is that all?"
Robert couldn't answer her, he couldn't keep lying like this, but at the same time confessing to her in the darkness only cut by dim candle light when she was completely naked was not the romantic reveal he had envisioned all this time. Why was she so curious though? He wondered with the small part of his mind that managed to remain objective. She couldn't...no...it was impossible. He didn't deserve her.
Oh god the sensations of her smooth skin were nearly irresistible.
