by Bridy McAvoy
I pouted this time, but let him continue.
“Nobody knows about these afternoons, and nobody will. So as long as you don’t let a boyfriend pick you up from work, none of them will need to know what we do. It’s quite simple for you to keep things separate.” He paused and gazed into my eyes. “In fact, I’m going to make it simple for you. From now on we confine our activities to just Thursdays.”
“Oh.”
“But next week at the board meeting you’ll propose we close at one o’clock not two, so that you have more time to get the computer system updated in line with current practices. I’ll support you and, from February, we get three hours play time instead of two. How’s that?”
I licked my lips and smiled. It did sound like a great idea.
“So now, six nights a week, you’re free to date, and you can have your boyfriend pick you up here any day except Thursday, without worrying about cock-breath. Problem solved.”
“Except you solved a problem I don’t think I have.”
“No, you do have a problem.”
“But I don’t know how to date! I never have!”
He rocked back in surprise then nodded, slowly. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me that much. After all, you were such an innocent when I first met you.” He chuckled. “Look at you now, spread out naked on my desk—not so innocent anymore.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and stayed silent. I know it was childish, but, as a reaction, it felt right.
“Okay, so how many times a week does a hunky young guy come up to your desk in there and try and flirt with you?”
“Once a week, maybe.”
He shook his head. “Sammie, Sammie, you can’t be that blind. You are a very attractive young woman. You turn twenty in two weeks. You should be out partying or dating four nights a week, and snuggling down with your boyfriend on the other nights. You get flirted with every single day in this library, I know it. Even old Baxingdale flirts with you at the board meeting every time.”
I blushed. I had noticed the chair of the board’s clumsy attempts to chat me up, but he was a lot older than Frank Bryant, and I knew his wife. When I was little she used to babysit me when my parents went out.
I stayed lost in thought for a couple of minutes, thinking about the way some of the men approached me at my work-station. Some of the questions were stupid ones really, and it took a few moments to realize they had been nothing more than simple attempts to strike up a conversation with me—an ice-breaker. It never worked, because I never recognized it for what it was. My face must have given me away.
“The penny has dropped. You know, I bet there’s a sweepstake in some of the bars up town as to who is going to be the first to get into the librarian’s panties.”
“There’d better not be.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because your name isn’t in the hat, and you’re the winner!”
He chuckled and, just to prove my point, I slowly lifted my left leg until I was taking its weight on my foot. My knees were spread open, and he could see my pussy. His eyes were drawn to the prize and his hand moved from where he’d been caressing my breast to trace slow patterns down onto my stomach. I knew the conversation, the embarrassing conversation, would be over as soon as his fingers reached my slit. I was already juicing up at the prospect.
“I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What?”
“The next time someone approaches your desk and asks an inane question, smile at them, and when you take them down to the stacks to show them where the book they want will be, I want you to walk in front of them and wiggle your butt a bit more than usual.”
“I will not.”
“You will. In fact, I want you to change your uniform a bit too. Wear tight skirts and stockings on garters every day, not just on Thursdays. No more pantyhose, young lady. Stockings, and skirts tight enough to show the snaps of your garters as bumps on your legs. I bet you get asked for a date before you get back to your desk.”
I blushed then frowned at him. “At the rate you’ve been shredding my underwear I’ll have to go shopping for more to do that.”
“Then buy yourself some sexy underwear. Dress sexy, feel sexy, it’ll work.”
“I’m not going to accept a date from any old codger, or from some pimply-faced kid.”
“Okay, make it any guy who asks who is between eighteen and say twenty five. I bet you’ll get a date before next Thursday.”
“I’m not taking that bet.”
“Pity, but if you don’t have a date, I’ll make you pay the forfeit anyway.”
“What forfeit?”
He chuckled and, reaching into his desk, pulled out a table tennis bat. “I’ll paddle your butt with this rather than my hand next week if you don’t have a date.”
I guess my eyes must have got very big. My mouth had dropped open and I had to close it with an audible snap. At the same time, I shuddered as his fingers reached my slit and he started to rub my pussy, his fingers sinking between the outer lips.
“Do we have a deal?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Time for more action and less talking.” He rose to his feet and moved round to the end of the desk.
I rolled onto my back, wincing a little from the pressure against my still sore ass, and he pulled me toward him, splaying my legs apart and then lifting my calves onto his shoulders. Once again he slid into my well-lubricated pussy.
* * * *
By Friday morning the red color of my ass had faded so I wore the white underwear set, but it was a quiet day. In fact, nobody in the target age range came into the library at all. I spent Saturday shopping, buying several sets of underwear, all with garters and garter belts. Most were white—I still had to think about them showing through my blouse—but they were either lace or silk. I bought a pale pink one, and a baby blue set which I thought was cute. A couple of dozen pairs of natural or nude stockings joined them, and altogether I think I splurged around four hundred dollars on underwear! I didn’t spend that much again in one go on underwear until I bought my wedding stuff, and the honeymoon ones, most of which, of course, only survived one encounter with you.
I even bought a couple of black seamed pairs for Thursday’s, but ruined both while I was trying to get them on with the seams straight. In the end, a few months later, it was Frank Bryant who showed me how to do that without snagging and laddering them.
I felt a little self-conscious wearing the baby blue set to the library on the Monday, but it wasn’t really that different from what I’d worn on Thursdays for months so I soon relaxed. At one point, when the library was empty other than the two of us, Frank cornered me in one of the stacks and told me to wear that set on Thursday for him. He thought it would contrast well with my red bottom.
I was still flushing when I returned to my desk. It wasn’t till Wednesday that someone in the right age range came in. It was lunchtime, and we were quite busy. Mr. Bryant was helping me out on the front desk when Billy Ransome came up to the desk.
* * * *
“Billy Ransome, the Billy I worked with at the supermarket?”
“Yes, him.”
“You went out with him?”
“Patience, let me tell you the story in sequence.”
I quietened down. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about one of my friends getting off with her—that was too much.
“Don’t panic. I went out with him, but I didn’t put out, okay?”
“Okay.”
* * * *
Anyway, he asked me for help finding a book. I have no idea what it was now, I can’t remember, but I knew it would be right at the bottom corner of the library. He kind of asked both of us, but Mr. Bryant had a customer with a problem booking a book back in, so I had to respond. Mr. Bryant beat me to the punch.
“Samantha will show you where that will be, won’t you, Samantha?”
I smiled, knowing Mr. Bryant had set me up. Not sure if he’d even sneakily given Billy
the question to ask me. He told me later he hadn’t, he just took advantage of the opportunity to get me to date. I don’t know if I believed him then, or now.
“Sure, follow me.”
I smiled, rose from my seat and smoothed my skirt down. I could see Billy’s eyes get big as he noticed the tell-tale bumps of my suspenders show though the tight skirt. Walking in front of him, I made sure to cross my feet, one in front of the other to make my butt sway, and led him all the way down the library, and off to the right.
“Should be on this shelf right here.” I pointed to one at about waist height, but I wasn’t going to bend to show him exactly where it was. That was too much. “Now, I’m sorry, I have to get back—we’re rather busy.”
“Can I see you?”
“Sorry?”
He’d just blurted it out, and he turned red as I moved toward him. I was going to push past him to make my way back to my work-station, but his question stopped me after I’d taken one step toward him. We were rather close, he was definitely inside my personal space. Flustered I took a step back.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay. Were you asking me out on a date?”
He nodded—his eyes seemed hungry as he looked at me. He was a nice enough looking guy, but he was no beefcake and, with my heels on, I was an inch or so taller. Kinda cute, but not really someone I’d have considered before the conversation I’d had last week in-between fucks. My cheeks heated as I realized I was thinking about what we’d been doing, rather than answering his question.
“I mean if you’re not going out with someone already…”
“No, I’m single…at the moment.”
“Well, do you fancy a drink or something on Friday? Assuming you don’t have any plans.”
I smiled, there it was—a proper date question. I don’t think he remembered, but he’d had a bit of a crush on me at high school, and I’d turned him down then. Now, though, he’d matured, but still seemed shy, which was perfect given how shy I was.
“Yes, Friday would be nice.”
“A drink, or a movie?”
The movie idea seemed like a better choice. Sitting in the dark seemed a nicer idea than being under the bright lights of a bar. Of course, I didn’t even know there were bars with subdued lighting, perfect for lovers to canoodle at. I was still that innocent, remember.
My social life had been nipped in the bud by my parents’ sudden death. I’d never looked old enough to sneak into a bar without ID, and I’d never had a fake one. What friends I’d had had drifted off to college, and we’d drifted apart. Not one of them had even called over the Christmas break to suggest a burger, let alone a night out. The loneliness crashed in on me.
“A movie would be great, although I don’t know what’s on.”
“I’ll find out. What time would you like me to pick you up? Most of the shows start around eight.”
“Actually, would you mind if I met you there—say, half seven? It would be easier for me.”
“Sure.”
I could see in his eyes he expected me to stand him up—that’s why I’d said meet him there. I put my hand on his arm. “Listen, I can read what you’re thinking. I’m not going to stand you up, but I lost my parents in a car crash last year. I hate other people driving, okay?”
He smiled in relief, then his face sobered. “That’s fine. Oops, that came out wrong… I remember, now. Sorry about your mum and dad.”
“It’s all right. I’m over it mostly, but thank you. I’ve not been able to ride as a passenger since. Listen, I must get back to the desk, I can’t leave Mr. Bryant to do my job. See you Friday?”
“Sure.”
“Good, see you then.”
He stood to the side to let me squeeze past. I tried not to brush against him, but there wasn’t that much room. My hip brushed against his and I heard him choke back a soft gasp. I didn’t tease him deliberately, but it must have felt that way to him. I didn’t look back—I didn’t dare—because I could feel the heat that told me I was blushing. Mr. Bryant looked at me as I returned to my desk and chuckled—I must have still been blushing. I shot him a look but that just made him laugh even harder.
A couple of minutes later I was serving a customer when Billy walked past the desk. He smiled and waved and I nodded and smiled back. The old dear in front of me glanced back over her shoulder and chuckled, making me blush again, but she didn’t say anything.
Mr. Bryant disappeared back into his office, and the normal pace of life resumed in the library. The lunchtime crowd thinned out and I spent the afternoon tidying the fiction shelves. I didn’t get the chance to talk to Mr. Bryant until closing time. We had a half hour to kill because it was a board meeting that night, and we had to make sure everything was shipshape and tidy before the board showed. Besides, today was the day I was to pitch the idea of closing an extra hour early on Thursdays in order to get the new computer system up and running properly. There really was a new computer system—that had been approved in the autumn, and we did need more time—only that wouldn’t be what we’d be doing on Thursdays.
“You have a date then?”
“Yes.”
“Good, tell me about it tomorrow afternoon.”
“Like it’s any of your business.”
“Don’t get pert with me, young lady. I might just be looking for an excuse to use that table tennis bat on you. Pimple side up, or down—I’ll let you choose.”
I swallowed hard and looked away. The idea of him spanking me with that bat did not appeal in any way whatsoever. I was glad to avoid the subject. Even so, I knew beyond any doubt, he would find a reason to use it on me as soon as he could. A postponement, not a cancellation.
* * * *
On Thursday he didn’t try anything kinky at all. He just had me walk into his office and strip down to my baby blue underwear, then blow him. Afterward, he sat in his big office chair and invited me to sit on his lap. It was going to be another day when I was going to miss out on my favorite bit of what we did together. I enjoyed blowing him, and I enjoyed fucking, but I really preferred it when he ate me out to several orgasms in quick succession. He’d ignore my sensitivity after each one, override my protests and just keep going. When he did there was only a short gap between each one.
Instead, he cuddled me into his lap, ignored my pouting bottom lip and just held me. One hand round behind my back, holding me nestled into his chest, his other hand idly stroking my thigh.
“So tell me about this young man of yours?”
“He’s not my young man.”
“Not yet.”
“No, I don’t think he ever will be. I’m going out with him to shut you up.” I smiled up into his face to prove I was just playing and he kissed my lips softly before pulling away again.
“Ah, so not a keeper?”
“No.”
“So which is he then?”
“Which what?”
“What type of guy is he?”
“Type?”
“You don’t type them?”
“Who? The guys I date. Doh! I don’t date, remember.”
“Look, Sammie, there are four pools you should divide guys into. Sometimes you can sort that out before the end of the first date, sometimes it takes a couple of dates—but you should know before you let the relationship proceed, or dump his ass, whichever.”
I frowned at him. He just smiled and pulled me in closer, his hand sliding up my leg and starting to rub the inside of my thigh. I adjusted my position, allowing my left leg to fall away, giving him access to the front of my panties—and, more importantly, what was inside them. His fingers started tracing patterns on my pussy. My breath caught.
“Look, baby, let me spell it out for you. There are four groups of men from whom you’ll date. The ones you won’t go out with don’t get a mention. First group are the Never Evahs. They’re probably nice guys, but something about them means they’re not going to live up to your requirements. You might find
you hate their table manners, they have halitosis, they might never be on time, or even stand you up. Maybe they expect you to pay for the whole date when you know they can afford it. It could just be they’re slobs. In any case, they don’t get another date, but you let them down easy. Understand?”
“Er, yeah.”
“Good, because it gets a little bit more difficult now. Second group are the Has Been’s. You won’t have anybody in this group yet. These guys are older and more sophisticated. Smooth, some of them will be out and out nice guys, others will be players. Make sure they really are single before you date them—you don’t want to be the other woman in a scandal. They won’t take you for a burger—it will be fine dining and theatre trips rather than a Big Mac and a movie. They will be expecting value for money. By the second date they will expect to see, and have you, naked. It won’t be in the back of a car either. If they’re good enough, transfer them to the fourth group. Otherwise dump their asses. They only get one shot to rock your world.”
“Okay, I think.”
“Rule one-oh-one, baby. This is important. Anybody in pool one, the Never Evah’s—they get a quick thank you peck on the cheek, and nothing else. No kiss, no boob squeeze, no fingering and, above all else, no suckee, no fuckee. It doesn’t mean you can’t have a great time with them—you probably won’t—but you won’t know until after the first or second date. Just no sex. The Has Been’s get one crack at your ass, and they either transfer out, or get dumped in the trash. That depends on if they rock your world.”
“So what about the other two groups?”
“I’m getting to that.” He pressed his finger against my slit, making me moan as the warmth spread through me. Glancing down I could see the pale blue of the front of my underwear was now a darker blue where the moisture had spread. “Let me finish, then I’ll fuck you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“The third group are the Keeper’s. Your eventual husband will come from this group. These guys are gentlemen—they’ll hold the door open for you. When you get out of a car in a mini-skirt with them holding the door they won’t stare down at your panties. They’ll look, but look away quickly. Don’t confuse manners with lack of desire—these guys will have some serious hot’s for you. They’ll treat you like a princess. They’ll also go along at your pace. String them out—if they’re serious contenders they won’t mind. They won’t expect you to fuck like a mink on the third date. They’ll settle for just a kiss for the first month, a longer kiss for the second. Let them think you’re saving yourself for marriage. They’re Keeper’s if they don’t push it. It’s not that they don’t find you attractive—just leave them with blue balls, it’ll be worth it. Make them earn your cherry.”