The Sexy Librarian: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

“But here’s the thing,” she went on. “I did make a copy of the story and I did take it home. But the trouble is, it’s not where I put it,” she said with sorrow. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “Did you leave it in a bag somewhere?” I asked. I know I was actively lying now, or obscuring the truth, but I suddenly felt extremely guilty myself for taking the story from Esme’s bookshelf. Just as she didn’t want me to hate her, I definitely didn’t want her to hate me. The whole thing was starting to become very cloudy.

  “No,” she whined. “If I could produce the copy for my boss, I might be able to beg to keep my job. But they’re definitely really angry. Even if I bring it back, they might charge me with stealing. I want to do the right thing,” she reasoned. “But hell, if they charged me for this it’s a big deal. Since it’s a part of the special collections, a bequeathed item, it’s basically considered priceless.”

  “Damn,” I said. “That’s awful, Esme.”

  “I really don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said. “I could just keep denying it and then they’ll investigate further and probably find out I did it anyway.” She paused and sniffled. “Or I return it, beg for forgiveness, and try desperately to hold onto my job. I love my job,” she mused solemnly.

  “I’m sorry, Esme,” I said. “That’s really awful.”

  “I’m just so torn up,” she said. I could hear her tears over the phone. “I made a mistake.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do. I felt really awful about not coming clean myself. If I told her I took the copy from her house over the phone, it might cause a fight and that was not something I wanted to do. It would be a much better option to come to her with my tail between my legs, hand her the copy and profusely apologize, leaving her to then face the music at the library. I had to plan this all out, focusing on saving face and preserving my budding relationship with Esme first, helping her keep her job second.

  But maybe there was a way I could do both.

  “Listen,” said Esme. “I’m just gonna go lay down and mope. I feel like absolute shit.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Can I see you again soon?” I asked lightly. “Maybe tomorrow we can talk this through. Take the day off work or something and we can figure it out together.”

  “I can’t take the day off when they have their lasers set on me,” she bemoaned. “It’ll look even worse. I’m just going to try to figure this out and see if I can stay out of trouble.”

  “Okay,” I said. “On the bright side,” I said. “I’m still wearing your plug. It feels really good.”

  This caused Esme to laugh softly.

  “That picture,” she said. “Oh my God. You are so pretty,” said Esme. Her mood subtly shifted now that we were talking about sex. “I love your little pussy, Amelia. So so pretty.”

  “Thank you,” I blushed.

  “I’m gonna go,” said Esme. “Thanks for that pick me up. I’ll call you soon and we’ll have a date. Thank you for listening to me.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon, Esme.”

  We each said “goodbye” and hung up our phones. Torn with the way I acted, I tossed my phone down to my bed and slumped back into the mass of pillows behind me. I didn’t know what to do.

  *

  It was almost time for sleep but the plug buried deep in my ass kept my pussy aroused and dripping, so I resolved to give myself another session of self-pleasure before turning in for the night. Lying on my stomach against my bed in only my t-shirt, having stripped out of my panties and tossed them aside, I laid atop one of my arms with my middle and ring fingers plunged deep into my moist slit. I imagined fucking Esme, her nude and shapely body presented in front of me, her furry red pussy calling out for me, beckoning for me to lick it. I wanted to taste her so bad, I want to feel her smooth skin, I wanted to kiss her soft lips.

  I methodically grinded my hips against my comforting bedding, my fingers slipping in and out of my pussy, my hand gripping tightly to my mound causing my clit to wetly run up and down the length of my fingers as I thrusted. With my head pushed into my pillow, mouth agape, I moaned hotly, enjoying how expertly I was able to pleasure myself.

  With my other hand, I once again reached around to my ass and tugged on the head of the toy. I had been wearing the plug for most of the day and it was nothing short of magical. Perhaps I was just one of those people that the plug really worked on and it certainly worked wonders. It was somewhat difficult to describe. It filled me up, it pleasured me with pressure, it made me feel complete in a certain way that I couldn’t quite articulate. I had a feeling that if I wore it every day I’d have a hell of a time getting anything done apart from frequent masturbation. Once I returned it to Esme, I knew I would have to get one of my own. If you’ve never tried one, I urge you to get one and give it a test flight. You may never want to be without it ever again.

  My fingers easily slipped in and out of myself, my other hand toying with my backside, I felt so close to completion that I could just scream. I began to pull at the plug, causing my little crinkled ring to begin dilating around the knob end of the plug. My pussy was tingling as I yanked at the toy, my creamy wetness sliming down onto my hand and making a mess of the sheet underneath me. My mind focused on Esme, but not on the conundrum we were dealing with. Rather, I thought only of her sexuality. I wished it was her pulling the plug from my ass. I felt my hole widen, I felt a wonderful pressure around my rim.

  “Oh my God,” I cried out, making a noise that was halfway between whining and grunting. Some sort of guttural pleasure button that I’d never been able to press before. I groaned again as the plug stretched me further, the bulbous girth spreading me, widening me, exiting me with fervor. My mind was fizzing with so much passion that for a second I thought I might pass out. And then the plug quickly slipped out, no more resistance from my hole keeping it lodged inside. As it fell out of me, I gripped tightly to my pussy, my fingers still inserted, my palm against my lips, warm against my clit. I was thrown head first into orgasm, my legs shaking and kicking, thighs quivering. It was bliss.

  I felt absolutely sweaty in just my t-shirt, the little aftershocks of electricity coursing through my body as the orgasm journeyed throughout. I shivered with a chill, then I was hot. With my thighs clamped together, I felt moist and sticky and creamy between my legs. I tenderly massaged my pussy mound with one palm, while my other hand, still holding the extracted plug, came around to the front side of my body. I dropped the plug into a towel I had ready, quickly folding the towel over it and pushing it away from me slightly. It was a weird feeling to have removed the plug after having inside all day. I felt like I was missing something. And I could feel my asshole widened just a little bit, a cool breeze of air blowing up inside of it.

  I’m just being honest. I know it’s weird. I mean, I felt kind of weird about the whole thing. But at the same time, I had absolutely fallen in love with it. I wanted to slap myself for not trying it sooner. And I wanted to kiss Esme a thousand times on her pretty pale face for showing it to me.

  Enjoying the final shakes of my orgasmic completion, I brought my hands to the bottom of my t-shirt and swiftly pulled it up over my head. The cotton had grown too sweaty for my liking and I was ready to cool down. Yanking it off, I tossed it unceremoniously to the floor and just laid there naked for a moment as the sweat quickly cooled from me. I smiled to myself, happy, fulfilled, filled with endorphins or whatever it is that gets released when you come. Not soon after I removed my shirt, I began to feel a bit chilly. I reached down the length of my body, took hold of my blanket, and eagerly pulled it up and over my bareness. I snuggled into the warmth and satisfaction that only a soft winter blanket can provide.

  I thought about Esme. I thought about the two of us together. And I thought of a way that I could help solve her problem with the library and the copy of Beauchamp’s novella. It’s amazing what kind of thoughts you can entertain with a clear head post-orgasm. I smiled to myself, brought my blanket up ti
ghter against my neck, and allowed myself to blithely drift off to sleep.

  *

  The next morning was exceptionally cold. The weatherman on TV had even cautioned about only going outside if you absolutely had to, seeing as the windchill had plummeted beyond what was considered safe. It would have been the perfect day to curl up in front of a nice fire, sip tea, cover up in a thick blanket, and do a crossword. But I had a plan to enact and all that lounging could wait.

  I stepped off the commuter train in Hyde Park and rubbed my wool mittens together, exhaling a foggy breath, and tightened my scarf around my neck. It really was cold. The streets were near empty, as university classes had been cancelled that day and the students were all staying indoors. I braved the cold, however, and began my walk to the library, shifting my bag higher up on my shoulder as I trudged.

  There still were people milling about, unable to accept that the day was just too cold to do anything. I even saw a runner, adorned in black tights and a balaclava, speeding by with a big huff of breath coming from his mouth. People sure were strange. With my hands plunged deep into my pockets, I pulled my coat tight around my midsection to try to retain heat. I was so close to the library and I sped up my gait to get there even quicker.

  The door to the library was unlocked and after busting inside, I sighed with relief to get out of the frigid outside. I hadn’t expected it to be as bad as it was but I was elated to have made it down to the library on such a day. Inside, the library was mostly empty, though there were some students wandering around, some at the various reading desks. While most of the university had closed down due to the emergency temperature, the library had stayed open for the most studious who couldn’t bring themselves to take a break. Typical University of Chicago.

  After kicking some of the snow off my boots, I meandered deeper into the library, removing my hat, my gloves, my scarf, stuffing them into various pockets and wrapping my scarf around the strap of my bag. I started feeling a little bit nervous for what I was about to do, but I couldn’t go back now. I was there, I had resolved my decision last night, and I was determined to go through with it. I didn’t know what was going to happen but I was prepared for it. I had to put on my game face. And by that I mean, I had to look sorrowful, guilty, repentant. I frowned as I walked, rubbed at my eyes a bit to smear my eye makeup, and I tried to muster up a good cry.

  I ambled through the large library building, any little sound made reverberating off the walls, the deep winter sun beaming through the clear windows near the ceiling. I tried to go over what I was going to say in my head. I had prepared last night as I tried to sleep and I had even made some notes this morning. Running a hand slowly through my hair, I felt my stomach sink as I approached the special collections desk and saw Esme, along with another matronly looking woman, working on something together.

  Esme looked up from behind the desk and her eyes widened as she saw me. Her look was sort of a “what are you doing here?” kind of terror. I didn’t change my expression, though. I looked sad, torn apart, criminal yet remorseful. Esme shook her head slightly and couldn’t take her eyes off me as I drew closer.

  “Hello,” I said with a solemn tone. “I’d like to speak to the head librarian in charge here.”

  “That’s me,” said the woman next to Esme, looking up to me skeptically. “How can I help you, dear?”

  “I feel just awful,” I said. “Sick.”

  “Were you outside?” she asked. “Are you frozen? Do I need to call the medics?”

  “No,” I said, looking down. “No, it’s not that. I did something bad.”

  After these words came from my mouth, Esme looked like she wanted to stand up and protest but she stopped herself as the head librarian lifted a hand at her. I couldn’t help but look over at Esme, my face still bereaved, though my mind wandered to thoughts of Esme’s sexuality. She was beautiful sitting there behind that desk, hair done up neatly, looking all prim and proper. It was driving me crazy inside. But I stuck to my script.

  “You can tell me, sweetie,” said the head librarian, sliding a hand out toward me. I took it gently and sniffled. “My name is Gloria, I’m in charge here, I can help you.”

  “I stole something,” I said, taking my hand from Gloria and bringing it up to my eyes to wipe at them. I mustered out a few tears but they just weren’t coming like I’d hoped. Still, I knew by the look on Gloria’s face that my act was working.

  “Stealing is a serious offense,” said Gloria. “Tell me what you stole.”

  I reached down into my bag, fumbling through it, trying to avert my eyes from the two librarians watching me, one my mark, and the other my lover. I didn’t like to be this manipulative. It wasn’t becoming, I knew that. But I wanted to help out Esme in any way I could. From my bag I lifted out the folded copy pages of the novella that I had taken from Esme’s bookshelf. I kneaded the paper between my fingers for a moment before I slowly handed them over to Gloria.

  “I’ve felt guilty about it for a while,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t have done it. I apologize, I really do.”

  Gloria took the paper from me and looked down at it over her glasses, flipping through a couple of pages, realizing almost immediately what it was. She looked at me, herself saddened, almost betrayed.

  “How did you get this?” asked Gloria. “This was not meant to leave the library, you know that? Yes?”

  “I tricked this librarian right here,” I said, pointing at Esme. Esme’s face was straight, unemotional, and although I was unsure what she was thinking, I hoped that she was dancing on the inside. “I confused her while she was making copies. She had to run off to her desk for a moment and while she was gone, I was able to make a copy of this story. I know it wasn’t supposed to leave the library but I wanted a copy for myself.”

  “Dear,” began Gloria. “This is a serious offense, stealing is wrong,” she said. “And this story in particular is part of our special collections, owned exclusively by the university. You could be thrown out of school for such an offense.”

  Gloria thought I was a student at the university. I hadn’t thought of using that angle. I shifted in my story a little bit to go along with her assumption.

  “I can’t get kicked out of school!” I protested. “Oh my God, I could lose my scholarship. Ma’am, please,” I begged. “I’m so very sorry. It was a selfish lapse in judgement. I promise I will never even consider something so wrong again.”

  “Well,” said Gloria, looking down at the copy of the novella, flipping through it as she considered my plea. Esme simply watched in silence. I sniffled, lucky that the cold outside had reddened my face and caused my nose to run just bit to make me look even more pathetic. “If you weren’t a student, you would be banned from this library forever. But we can’t ban a student.”

  “Thank you,” I cooed in a low tone.

  “Is this the only copy?” she asked. “You didn’t make any more copies of this or give it to your friends?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s the only one.”

  “Okay,” she said, her face softening. Taking up the pages, Gloria handed them over to Esme. “Will you please shred this?” she asked.

  “Of course,” said Esme, taking the paper from Gloria’s hand. Esme’s face was beginning to show relief.

  “As for you,” said Gloria, returning to our conversation. “Thank you for being honest and returning the copy. Had this gotten out, it would have big a huge black eye on this library and the university. You know what you did was completely unacceptable and wrong?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “And you swear that you will do nothing of the sort ever again?”

  “I swear,” I said. “I promise.”

  “Will you apologize to this librarian for deceiving her?” asked Gloria, motioning toward Esme with her hand.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said to Esme. I wanted to offer her a grin, but I held it back. “I hope I didn’t get anybody in any trouble.”

  “You co
uld have,” said Gloria. “You could have gotten this librarian in a lot of trouble.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I’m sorry,” I said again to Esme. It was then that Esme cracked her serious demeanor and gave me a smile, showing off her bright white teeth behind that red lipstick.

  “I forgive you, dear,” said Esme.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, both of you.” I couldn’t believe it was going so well. In my head I was jumping up and down, pumping my legs, throwing a fist into the air.

  “You’re welcome,” said Gloria. “Now get back to your dorm and stay out of this cold. The library will only have the front reading room open after noon. We’ll be closing the rest down shortly.”

  “Okay,” I said, bowing my head slightly and then adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “Thanks again, and I’m sorry.” I turned from the special collections desk and began to slink away, hiding the growing smile on my face.

  “I apologize, Esme,” I heard Gloria say as I was walking away. “Why don’t you take off early and get yourself home. Stay warm.”

  I walked triumphantly across the library, feeling as though I could whistle. As I approached the door, I got cold just looking at the scene outside. It would be a long, chilly slog back home, but my trip had been a success and was I elated that I could help Esme get out of trouble with her boss.

  “Amelia!” I heard called from behind me. “Wait up!”

  Turning around, I saw Esme half-jogging toward me in her black clunky heels. I laughed softly as she moved.

  “Don’t trip,” I said. Esme slowed her gait as she got closer.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” she said once she was standing next to me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I know.”

  There was a pregnant pause as we both considered our actions.

  “But…” said Esme, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

  “It worked out even better than I planned,” I said.

  “You caught Gloria in a good mood,” said Esme. “It could have gone a lot worse.”