The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

by Rose Caraway

  Copyright © 2014 by Rose Caraway.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by Cleis Press, Inc.,

  2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.

  Cover design: Scott Idleman/Blink

  Cover photograph: Dimitri Otis/Getty Images

  Text design: Frank Wiedemann

  First Edition.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62778-077-3

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ForewordBix Warden

  Introduction

  Book SwapRachel Kramer Bussel

  Sensate SiliconeLillian Douglas

  Three Legs in the EveningJanine Ashbless

  The ContestMichael Lewis

  The Secret GameChase Morgan

  POW! It’s Shibari Girl!Tamsin Flowers

  Vivi and the Magic ManKristina Wright

  Second LookHeidi Champa

  TapedKay Jaybee

  Lauren’s JourneyD. L. King

  A Perverted Fairy TaleEmily Bingham

  The Skilled TechnicianKate Maxwell

  Shades of DesireAllen Dusk

  Moonshine BalladSalome Wilde

  Cherries in SeasonKD Grace

  The Perfect MassageOlivia Archer

  Full-Frontal NeighborLynn Townsend

  The Whole of MeKatya Harris

  Notes on a ScandalKelly Maher

  AppetizerSommer Marsden

  MikhaelAngela Caperton

  The Mating ChamberRose Caraway

  About the Authors

  About the Editor

  Foreword

  Bix Warden

  Libraries are full of endless possibilities. Each book contains worlds within it where we can lose, or find, ourselves. We can discover things we didn’t even know existed, or follow our wildest dreams and most deeply held desires. And, as Jo Goodwin said, “A truly great library contains something to offend everyone.” Librarians are on the front lines of our freedom to read, to think and to look at anything and everything the printed word, the digital word and the Internet have to offer. They fight the good fight every day, to ensure that you can access whatever you wish, without judgment or censorship of any kind. Is it any surprise that Batgirl was a librarian by day? Barbara Gordon, head of the Gotham City Public Library and superheroine fighting crime by night. Librarians in the real world these days are as likely to have pink hair and tattoos as they are to fit the stereotype of sensible shoes and a cardigan.

  The best thing about being a librarian is that you don’t have to know everything, you just have to know where to find it. And for those who believe there’s no need for librarians in the age of Google, I give you this quote from Neil Gaiman: “Google can bring you back 100,000 answers. A librarian can bring you back the right one.”

  No wonder librarians are featured in the sexual fantasies of so many people. After all, the brain is the most important sex organ in the body. You don’t have to be a sapiosexual to recognize that, yes, intelligence is the sexiest attribute. Librarians, in my experience, are often both smart and sexy; they read widely and across many genres, from horror to science fiction to literary fiction and nonfiction. If it’s well written and thoughtful, a librarian is likely to enjoy it.

  You hold in your hands a volume that invites you to let your fingers stroll through an enticing virtual card catalogue. So much variety is on hand, so many different tales that all celebrate the erotic in a way that is indeed both intelligent and arousing. When you’ve finished these, if you still find yourself craving more, look no farther than the shelves of your local library. Erotica holds a proud place in our collections, and books of erotica are among the most popular items in circulation. Just tell them a sexy librarian sent you.

  Bix Warden

  San Francisco

  Introduction

  A short story is a different thing all together—a short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger.

  —Stephen King

  I can’t tell you how much this very sentiment appropriately describes the erotic fiction found within my private library. Every story I have ever collected over the years—read and reread—is, indeed, a very special kiss, although by now I don’t think we are exactly strangers anymore. It seems I never have enough, however, and like a honeybee to nectar off I go, hunting for more stories. I’m dedicated one might say, ever on the prowl. Fearlessly expanding my search to wherever my carnal nose may lead. Until I’m finally honing in on the next incredible erotic tale—that special kiss in the dark.

  To be honest, it actually makes me a little giddy when I know deep within my bones that I have located the perfect story for you, my darling patron. Much of my careful research is directed by your vast and varied tastes. While this journey of scouring the globe is my calling, I am your favorite Sexy Librarian and consider it to be an honor and a wonderful privilege to provide you with twenty-two stories taken from my own private collection in The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica. Each story brings exciting new fantasies with every turn of the page. There aren’t words to describe the tremendous energy born of responsibility and respect that coursed through my veins during this quest as I sometimes made very difficult decisions to select the tales I felt you would enjoy the most. The truth is, I want to please you. I want you to smile, because once you begin the first story, that shiny little twinkle that suddenly appears in your eye…will be priceless. And I will get to say, I did that.

  Yes, finding stories for your enjoyment is my job, but it’s also my passion and it makes me feel good to feed your passions. Your joy is my joy and I am humbly at your service. I know that some days you want nothing more than to fall into a steamy Romance, a nostalgic Classic Fiction or a Fantasy because it helps you relax and discard the day’s stress like a used shirt. I also know that your mood changes and you don’t only want Fairy Tales, because your tastes and desires differ from day to day. It is no secret to me that some nights, nothing can get your blood pumping faster than reading a chilling Erotic Horror, a Supernatural Thriller or an explicit Sci-fi. And, on rare occasion, I know that you desire to be challenged to the very brink of ecstasy, teased and tweaked more than usual—you are a beautifully diverse being, complicated even at times. The only solution for untangling your intricate self is through reading a story with a well-disciplined, healing dose of BDSM that will help guide you into character and allow you to vicariously receive your very own overdue Spanking.

  It is impossible to ever just pick one kind of erotic story; there are too many delicious adventures just waiting to be had! So don’t worry, all of these stories are yours now, take them. Enjoy. These adventures will not simply sit on the page, they want to be. To prove that they can exist within you. They will get your juices flowing, make you grip the edges of the book with an irrefutable urge to read what happens next.

  On behalf of all of the wonderful authors that have contributed their time, talent and creativity to help build this library, I thank you. Thank you for simply picking up this book. We appreciate it more than you will ever know.

  I wish you well, darling patron, and of course happy reading.

  Your Sexy Librarian,

  Rose Caraway

  Book Swap

  Rachel Kramer Bussel

  As a start-up owner and type A personality, I believe in efficiency, technology and innovation. I am always on the go and l
ove any apps or devices that will help me work smarter and faster. I’ve been called a “tech goddess” and am the ultimate early adopter—except when it comes to books. I know, it’s a weird quirk, but even though I’ve tried every e-reader out there, when I sink into the glorious pages of a book, I prefer one with a cover that sparks my imagination, lush print on sleek paper, an object to hold and behold. When it comes to books, I’m low-tech. Lo-fi. Old school. I’m a completist, the type who arranges her books by author, buys first editions and hates creases on her pages. I read everything, from the acknowledgments to the dedications to the copyright page (you learn some surprising pseudonyms that way). Even in my office, which is otherwise ultramodern, my bookcase is a paean to my love of the classic written word.

  It’s why, even though I had plenty of work I could be doing on my flight from New York to Charlotte, I wasn’t planning to use the airline’s wireless service. Instead, I’d packed three beloved books, with room in my bag for more (even on a short trip, I like to have choices). Part of the joy of travel for me is visiting a new bookstore and reveling in its quirks and charms, plus asking for recommendations. I’ve found some of my most cherished books that way.

  I settled into my window seat, smiling to myself as I pulled out my battered copy of one of my favorite novels, A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers by Xiaolu Guo. I’d discovered it on a staff pick table in a London bookstore and been intrigued by its red cover featuring a naked woman turned to the side, decorated by artful green leaves that evoked, to me, Eve in the garden. It took me a while to get into the first time I read it, though, but it had been well worth it. Sometimes the best books, like the best sex, require a little extra effort. Now I reread it every year to remind myself of that London trip, and of narrator Z’s discovery of language and love and passion. To transport myself. I actually look forward to flying for some solo time, away from beeping gadgets and urgent emails. I thanked my lucky stars, and the airline, that the seat next to me was empty, and settled in with my book. I never wait until the plane takes off to start getting lost in the story.

  So I was swept up in the scene where Z goes to a peep show, when a man settled himself into the aisle seat. That I didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t take the middle one and infringe on my personal space. I was about to bury my head back in my book when I actually paused to check out my seatmate. He was ripped and tan and young looking—I pegged him for college age, or just out of school. He had a tribal armband tattoo, visible above his white V-neck T-shirt, and sexy blond stubble along his chin. More than any other characteristic, stubble is what does it for me. I was a goner then and there, grateful for the first time in months that I was single. Even if nothing came of it, I could still look. Yes, I’m forty-two, but to me one of the joys of middle age is being able to sample men from a range of life experiences, younger, older or my peers. I’m not picky about age, as long as a guy can keep up with me—in bed and out.

  When he smiled at me, I just gave him a little grin in return. I’ve learned over the years that I have the best luck when I let the guy do the talking. If he didn’t chat me up, I’d be more than happy to revel in my reading material. Which is exactly what I did, consuming those beautiful words as if they were a chocolate mousse melting on my tongue. They satisfied me in almost the same way. Once I finished that chapter, I shut my eyes as we coasted at cruising altitude, placing the book on the empty seat next to me and resting my eyes for a moment to relive the vivid imagery. I’ve been to strip clubs, but never to a proper peep show, but I feel as if I have from Guo’s words. I adjusted my seat as far back as it would go and relaxed fully, letting all the tension of the workweek melt away. That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  “Excuse me, sorry, I know you’re resting, but I wondered if you wouldn’t mind swapping books for a few minutes. I’m reading this for school”—he made a face, indicating that The Fountainhead wasn’t exactly his cup of tea—“but yours looks like much more fun. Could we trade for a few minutes? I’m Joel, by the way.” My face burned for a moment, because if he were to flip back past my bookmark, he’d know the scene I’d just read had been more than simply “fun.” Did I care? Well, yes. Sure, I wasn’t above reading even risqué books in public, but even when you’re on the subway or in a café or on a plane, reading is still one of the most private and intimate pleasures a person can enjoy. The times I’ve read racy passages out loud have been with lovers who I specifically knew would appreciate the words. This young man was someone I was forced to sit next to, and no matter how hot he was, he was about to know exactly what I’d been absorbed by.

  Still, I wasn’t about to say no; not only would that make him more curious and probably pester me, but also it really wasn’t a big deal. So he knew I was reading a scene featuring a woman watching another woman at a peep show. It’s a free country, right? Plus, maybe I’d be pleasantly surprised at his reaction. “Brianna,” is all I said before passing over my tattered paperback. While he dug right into Z’s story, instead of reading Ayn Rand’s classic novel, I let my eyes dart over to him. He’d flipped ahead to the passage I’d just read. I couldn’t help but smile when I noticed his eyes bulge; I’d bet he’d never been to a peep show or strip club. Maybe he was even a virgin, but that would’ve meant he’d surely turned down many a girl, because he was mesmerizing. I turned my head so I wouldn’t be able to see him as closely; I know nothing makes me more nervous than someone watching me read. Instead, I stared out the window at the beautiful clouds below us, but rather than simply wishing we were there already, I savored the moment.

  I must have shut my eyes, because I felt another tap on my shoulder. “Fascinating. I’d be interested in reading the whole book.” He smiled at me, his deep-brown eyes probing mine. He didn’t say a word about the erotic scene I’d been reading; he didn’t need to—his eyes spoke for him, although I couldn’t quite translate his desire. I often try to figure out what a guy will be like in bed well before we’re headed there; it’s a little game I play, but Joel wasn’t cooperating. I couldn’t tell at all whether he’d be selfish or selfless, a top or a bottom, the kind of guy who likes to fuck fast and hard or one who wants to take his time. As I smiled back, I realized that not knowing was drawing me to him as much as his stubble or strong arms or beautiful skin. I wanted to find out what was happening behind that gaze.

  He handed the book back to me, and I returned his to the empty seat between us. Joel kept his hand in my lap, silently asking whether I wanted company. Part of me wasn’t sure—he was so much younger than my usual bedmate. I didn’t want him to fall for me, or to be with someone who fumbled around between my legs rather than giving me exactly what I wanted. “Have you ever been to a strip club?” is what I asked Joel. I was curious; his answer could tell me a lot about him.

  “Once, but it wasn’t really my thing. The women weren’t, anyway. I’d rather get a lap dance from a woman I can touch and taste and smell than someone who’s doing the same thing for every guy with twenty bucks in his pocket. What about you?”

  Guys my age would have surely stumbled through an answer, whether they’d done it or not. I know because I’ve asked a few times—either they’re too embarrassed to fess up, passing it off as a bachelor party thrill, or they know more about their favorite stripper’s moves than their last girlfriend. Joel was direct and unassuming as he parried my query back to me.

  “A few times. You get treated a little better if you’re a woman who’s really into it.”

  “And you are? Into it?” He leaned closer to ask, though it wasn’t so much a question as an excuse to move closer.

  “Yes, when there’s chemistry. That’s the most important thing to me—chemistry. But I bet you’re too young to understand that.” I couldn’t resist, plus I was half-sure it was true. How could he get what I was talking about?

  “I know more about chemistry than you might think. You’re just too chicken to find out exactly what I know. I dare you—when we land, I dare you to try my
chemistry.” He made “chemistry” sound like a dirty word, a synonym for “cock,” practically. I looked down and saw that his was hard, pressing against his jeans.

  “You want it, don’t you?” Joel continued. “Or maybe you want to watch me get a lap dance, want to watch a naked woman strut her stuff for me.”

  “Maybe,” I managed, even though the answer was more along the lines of “definitely.”

  Suddenly I had a vision of Joel getting more than a lap dance; what flashed through my mind was a woman down on her knees, sucking his cock, while I licked her from behind. I couldn’t help the sigh of longing that escaped my lips. I’ve never had a great poker face, which sometimes takes away from any cool, calm demeanor I’m trying to project.

  “Or maybe she should give us both a lap dance. I know we can’t touch her, but maybe if we go in a back room, I could spread you open for her to watch. She could tell me what to do to you while you just sit there and take it.” Where had young Joel learned such things? His words weren’t innocent, but they warred with that gorgeous, baby face. “Do you have any toys with you?” he asked, the words landing like silk against my skin. He was technically still in his seat, but he’d lifted up both armrests and leaned as far over as he could. “I want to use one on you.”

  I stared back at him, unexpectedly speechless. I’m not a woman who’s often lost for words. “Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?” I asked.

  “I did, but we broke up a while back. For the record, she dumped me. I’ve been waiting for the right woman to come along.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Two months.”

  “You’re seriously telling me a guy who looks like you hasn’t gotten laid in two months.”

  “For that, I’m going to spank you.”

  “You’re going to spank me for complimenting you?” I was amused, but also very turned on. I love men who throw off my center of gravity, who look sweet and almost innocent and turn out to be secret sadists (or ones who look tough and stern but not so deep down want to be tormented).