πŸ“š hunters & harlots Part 1 of 4
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SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

Hunters And Harlots Pt 01

Hunters And Harlots Pt 01

by midnightconfession
20 min read
4.9 (5300 views)
adultfiction

(part 1 of 4)

I enjoyed the solace of the basement. It was quiet and separate, unusual for a busy college campus. Most nights when I came down here I would see one or two other students, usually someone who was cramming for an exam or rushing to finish a paper and needed to tune out the world. Rarely did I see the same person twice and everyone wound up leaving before I did. I assumed that most people who came down to the basement wound up being a little freaked out by it. I'll admit that aside from the outdated look and the worn furniture, the room also had a peculiar aura to it that was unsettling at times.

For starters, the place was kind of gross. The furniture was new several decades ago and almost every part of the carpet was either stained or torn. The chairs groaned and the tables creaked, the lighting was harsh and the internet non-existent. On a campus full of beautiful buildings emblazoned with the names of donors, this was a neglected relic of the past.

But more than anything, it was warm down in the basement. Boiler room warm, a particular type of dry heat that kept me oddly alert and focused, rather than the lethargy that usually accompanies heat. In the furthest corner of the basement, away from the lone set of steps, was a heavy metal door that I had never seen opened. A small sign on it read Boiler- Keep Out. On one occasion, curiosity got the best of me and I had gone over to the door and turned the knob, unsurprised to find it was locked. Even through the metal I could feel the heat beyond the door. There was something sensual about the room though, it touched on all my senses in a satisfying way that felt welcoming. Sometimes when I got back to my room I could smell it on me as I lay in the undersized dorm room bed and tried to sleep.

The first time I heard the rattle of the pipes I froze what I was doing from the jarring sounds. Old iron pipes ran along the low ceiling and disappeared into the walls as they spread throughout the building. Without warning they would awaken and shake, the hanger straps swaying slightly as the pipes rumbled. At its peak the trembling sound made it feel as if the building was going to collapse around me. Sometimes the old fluorescent lights would dim into darkness and it was easy to imagine that the long shadows were reaching to pull me inside of them. And there were strange noises that were always in earshot but never close enough that I could actually pinpoint where they were coming from.

But I got over all of it. In exchange for a quiet place to focus and get work done I would have tolerated a lot. The occasional building noises were a small price to pay. Plus, my roommate made it hard to get work done in my dorm and there weren't a ton of other places for me to go. The library was too busy with distractions and I was never much of a coffee shop guy. Open twenty four hours, I could stay in the student union all night if I needed to.

I was deep into my text on the Revolutionary war when I felt a slow wave of heat pass over my body. Small beads of sweat pooled on the back of my neck and I pulled at the collar of my shirt to get some cool air on my skin. It wasn't the first time that the old boiler kicked off heat like this, but it was stronger than what I was beginning to get accustomed to.

I looked up and saw that the sole other occupant of the basement, a cute girl in a white tee shirt with black hair tucked under a ballcap that I had never seen before, had also just raised her head and was wiping at the sweat on her arm. The girl's sweatshirt was balled up on the table next to her and she used a sleeve to pat at her skin to soak up the moisture. The sweat on her shirt was enough to create a semi transparent window that showed her dark nipples sticking against the cotton.

Awkwardly, I looked up from her chest and our eyes came together. We quickly looked back to our work.

The heat passed after a moment but I had a hard time focusing my attention on the book in front of me. I was certain that I had felt actual airflow on my skin, a slow moving wall of heat that pushed through the basement like a sauna. For all the faults of the basement, it wasn't drafty. I put down my highlighter and ran my hands along my thighs to wipe off the sweat when the sensation ran over me again, this time the air was so warm that I briefly felt lightheaded.

Even stranger, my cock had instantly grown stiff inside my jeans. I didn't need to touch myself to know that I was rock hard. More than just the physical reaction that my body was having, I also felt a deep pool of lust spring up inside of me. As if something was uncorked and filling me up from within with desire. I had to stop myself from grabbing at my cock.

Two tables away I could see that the woman was feeling something too. She leaned back in her seat and gripped the edge of the table, her skin was flushed red in her cheeks. It was now impossible to ignore the thick nubs of her nipples poking through the faded material of her shirt. Something in the air could certainly make her nipples hard, but it seemed weird that my cock was having the same reaction at the same moment. Whatever I was experiencing was happening to her as well.

This time when our eyes met neither of us looked away. I half recognized the look in her face; there was a wellspring of pleasure bubbling under the surface, but also fear in her eyes from the sudden, unexpected arousal. At the same time I felt as if I was being watched, like there was another person in the basement with us. The presence of someone else was undeniable. I can't explain it other than to say that I knew for certain that we weren't alone.

The feeling was...unusual more than uncomfortable. At least for me. My fellow student slammed shut her book and quickly tossed everything into the bag on the table. The young woman avoided eye contact as she stood up and turned. For a brief moment before she pulled her bag to her chest I could see her nipples again. Whatever was happening with her was more than a passing sensation, the feeling around us had sunk deep into her. Before I could consider it any longer she was gone, rushing out of the room and towards the steps that led upstairs.

Now alone, my hand reached toward my cock. I told myself that I needed to adjust my raging dick because I knew I probably looked obscene with such an obvious hard on, but I also knew that I wanted to touch myself. If even for a moment, I had to allow it.

The moment that I made contact, flesh to rigid flesh, the overhead pipes in the room rattled. The sound was loud and deep, shaking me as much as the room itself. The sound reverberated and I could feel the echoes inside of me. I froze, suddenly feeling like the focal point of attention for something or someone. My fingers were wrapped around my shaft and I squeezed, a single drop of cum trickling from my engorged tip.

In immediate response I heard a low inhale of steam from the boiler room behind me. Like a deep breath being pulled in, the sound of the hissing boiler upped the tension in the room. The sensuality of the dim basement was working on overdrive. I could feel everything around me in a heightened way. It seemed as if all the time that I had been down here I was forging a connection with the space and it had moved to another level.

I moved my clenched fist slightly, daring to stroke my cock in the basement of the student union. I expected to see someone come down the steps and interrupt the moment I was having. Instead it was the room that responded, a louder rumble from the pipes that encouraged me to keep going. The lights dimmed slightly and I welcomed the darkness, feeling embraced by the cover the low light was offering.

As I slowly continued to touch myself and sink deeper into the pleasure that was building inside of me, the room continued to play along with a cacophony of rattles, sighs, and rumbles. I felt myself reaching the point of no return. The skin of my hand was coated in a thin glaze of precum as I spread the goo around with each slow, deliberate stroke.

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Suddenly I heard voices from the stairwell and the room itself went silent. Three students, two guys and a girl, came into the room and walked over to one of the tables. When they saw me they lowered their voices but kept on talking. Something about a physics test and a group project. I could barely focus on what they were saying, it felt as if I had just been dropped into a new environment. All the connections that were there a minute ago had evaporated the moment that they came into the room. The room was brighter than it was just a heartbeat ago. The air around me was no longer charged, the boiler was silent behind the metal door.

Beneath the table I pulled my hand out of my pants slowly, not wanting to draw any attention to myself but also trying to savor the last moment that I had.

I turned back to my textbook but the words weren't registering at all. I didn't see myself getting back to studying anytime soon, there were too many competing thoughts running through my mind and they were all more exciting than the Revolutionary War. I pulled back my chair and banged into the table and my pen bounced onto the carpet. It rolled out of arm's reach and I went under the table to pick it up. I looked up when I did so and something caught my eyes on the underside of the table.

Carved into the old wood was the word Isca. The letters had a faint luminescence to them, backlit and blood red among the dull brown of the table. All around the letters were other carvings and stains on the wood from decades of use, but the illumination made this single word stand out. Isca. There was a sharpness to the writing that the graffiti around it lacked. I grabbed my pen and wrote the word in the margin of my notebook. The word meant nothing to me. But I had a feeling that it could.

The intrusion had jolted my cock back to a relaxed state and I packed up my bag and headed for the steps and left the basement. The union was loud, colorful, and busy as students went about their evening oblivious to the experience that I just had.

And what was it that just happened to me? I was prone to getting lost in my own head, I knew that. It was so easy for me, natural really, to latch onto a thought and follow wherever the daydream or fantasy led me. This certainly wouldn't be the first time that a runaway thought ended with my hands in my pants and a hard cock begging for release. But something about this felt different. It seemed unlikely that I had imagined all of it. If nothing else, the other girl in the basement at the same time also had a reaction. The room was reaching out, I couldn't help but feel that the space was trying to connect with me on some level. It was strange but also exciting in a way that had more depth than a daydream. And the word beneath the table was practically glowing, too much for it to be my imagination. I tried to write it off as the contrast between the harsh lighting and the darkness under the table, but I kept coming back to it as being something more.

I wanted to know. If there was anything to find out I planned on uncovering it.

I rushed back to my dorm room and went inside, relieved to find that it was empty. I pulled out my computer and immediately did a search for Isca. Unsurprisingly it returned nothing, at least nothing that seemed even remotely relevant. Nothing on the page caught my eye. I fought down the urge to go down the rabbit hole of random results and instead tried to think about what else I could do.

There was always the university library. It was possible that whatever Isca was, it could have a connection to the school and just wasn't something that made itself into the greater world of the internet. Last semester I had taken a required course for freshmen that was an introduction to the resources that the university offered to all students; health care options, athletics, clubs, greek life, transportation. Tons of stuff. Among them was the library, which included a special closed collection related to the school and student life. I remember the librarian explaining to us that the online cataloging system that they used was still in beta and therefore not widely available to the public, there were a lot of collections that were only searchable by someone on campus. It was at least worth a shot.

The night was a restless one as I tossed in bed thinking not just of what happened in the basement of the student union, but also reliving the feeling that it had on me. I was twenty years old, I was accustomed to sudden erections that briefly took over my life. But this felt different and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just my own horniness.

Everytime that I managed to push these thoughts away they were replaced by the dreadful reality of my academic life. I knew that I needed to improve my study habits and raise my grades, but the larger issue that I never confronted was that I didn't even know why I was here to begin with. I never cared for school and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. This just felt like the logical next step and I went forward without really considering what the goal was.

My first class wasn't until 10 so I had time to check out the library before the day actually started. The library was one of the newer buildings on campus, it was completed just a couple of years ago and looked the part. It had a big fancy facade with tinted glass that shielded the books on the inside from light but still allowed an outsider to look in. Inside were modern study areas in various arrangements, and lots of them were modular furniture that could be arranged to accommodate any group size that would need them. The building was three floors, the second of which was a mezzanine that wrapped around the edges and looked down into the main level. And the wireless network was like lighting.

It was everything that the basement of the student union wasn't. I had not spent much time in the library.

I went over to one of the terminals and used my student credentials to log into the library's database and went to the search engine and, once again, typed in Isca.

Bingo. A bolt of excitement shot through my body and caused my cock to stir at seeing the results. I wasn't expecting such an immediate physical reaction but I certainly didn't fight it. It felt like a reward for pursuing whatever this was.

The search result stared back at me from the screen, it was a single item in the school's special collections library. The result didn't show much, it was vague and more than a bit odd to me. Maybe because I wasn't used to using a special collection, but the numbered entry didn't even have a title. It was just a cataloging number that related to the collection. Isca was the only tagged piece of metadata in the entry. It seemed as if the only way to locate this item was specifically the search that I just did.

There was still plenty of time before my first class so I printed out the reference slip and brought it over to one of the reference desks. An older woman in a brown sweater smiled as I approached.

"Good morning. What can I help you with?" Middle aged, she had the classic look of a librarian. Cardigan sweater, pencil sticking from her tight bun.

"Good morning. Um, I'd like to see this item. I, uh, don't really know what it is though."

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The librarian took the slip from me and handed it back. "That's up on the 3rd floor in the special collections. They can help you out there. The archive is in the back of the building, you'll see signs for it."

"Thanks," I nodded and put the slip in my pocket.

An escalator took me up to the 3rd floor and some signage helped me find the special collections. Tucked away in the back corner and hidden behind a heavy glass frosted door, the special collections had a different feel than the rest of the library. To me, it felt more like the cozy and quiet library of my imagination. A counter of dark mahogany cut the room in half, behind it a dark haired coed had her head down and was focused on something out of view, she was oblivious to my approach. The student was hunched over and I couldn't see much of her, but she didn't seem to fit the stereotype of a typical librarian like the woman downstairs. Her hair was a mess, the pencil sticking out was chewed and worn. The woman's left arm moved back and forth quickly and it looked like she was drawing or sketching on the paper in front of her.

I stood awkwardly at the desk for a moment before I broke the silence.

"Hi."

Startled, she looked up with wide eyes and stared at me without saying a word and stopped her sketching. I got the impression that the student librarian wasn't expecting any visitors at this time in the morning. The blue and yellow name tag on her sweatshirt read Emily.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't see you there. I was in the middle of this." She gestured to the incomplete drawing in front of her. "What can I help you with?" Emily flashed an imperfect toothy smile that was much sweeter than I was expecting.

I put the printed out reference call slip on the counter and added a smile of my own. "I'd like to see this."

"Sure," Emily answered. "You're a student here? I'll need to see your ID."

I placed my ID on the counter and Emily stood up to take it. She grabbed the card and walked it over to a desktop scanner that was set up behind where she was sitting, allowing me an unobstructed view of her body while her back was turned.

She moved in a way that was the opposite of graceful, sort of a controlled mess of limbs that each wanted to do their own thing. Emily had long legs and her pale skin peaked out from the bottom of her jeans. Her hips were wide and swayed with each step much more than seemed necessary to cover such a small amount of ground. It was a lot of movement for such little action. Her big butt looked out of place atop her thin legs, but it was hard to take my eyes off of it. And when she turned a little and presented a side profile I saw the slope of breasts jutting out from her sweatshirt at a lower point than I would have expected.

In summary, Emily was oddly put together. But endearingly cute and charming without even trying. Taken separately I'm not sure I would have remarked on any of her features, but when assembled it all worked perfectly. The whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts. I couldn't help but smile watching her.

Her scanning work done, Emily returned to the counter and handed me my ID. I did my best to look down at the counter when she approached so as to not be caught ogling her body. Instead I made some small talk about the drawing that she was working on.

"What are you sketching?" I nodded to the paper.

Emily looked at the paper and then up at me, debating how much she wanted to share. "I don't know yet, entirely. Just some images that were bouncing around in my head, this is a fun way to get them out. You know, a little retreat from reality." She grinned.

"That actually sounds great when you put it like that. I can't say that I'm much of a reality fan," I smiled back.

"I'd much rather be here," she tapped the paper with her colored pencil and then gestured to the rest of the room, "than here."

"Then it's a good thing you work in this part of the library. Not too busy, probably gives you a lot of time to draw." I liked talking to Emily, there was something very easy about it.

"Truthfully," Emily lowered her voice a little and leaned closer to me over the counter, "I'm the worst at working in a library. Working anywhere, really. I'm a student so they have to give me a job. I used to be downstairs and I was just awful at all of it. Shelving books, helping people, cleaning things up. All of it. My boss kept finding me trying to hide in some dark corner and draw where no one could find me. So eventually they just stuck me up here. I mean, no one comes up to the special collections on a weekday morning." Emily delighted in telling me how bad she was at her job, I could tell she had a weird sense of pride about it. As she spoke she nodded her head in agreement with herself and her tits wobbled in her sweatshirt.

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