Library Tales

I saw this post on Library Sex over at Alicia's. It's from a challenge hosted by Remittance Girl. Two great women with great blogs. I'm late for the challenge but it looked like fun. So here's my take on a library story.


***

My shoes clicked on the marble floor as I wound my way through the stacks. It was half-past nine on a Friday night and I was in the university library. That should tell you all you need to know about my love life.

Except for a handful of over-achievers, the library was empty. A pretty redhead sat hunched at one of the computers. Two or three boys sat at desks, scribbling furiously. An older man sat in the lounge, his nose stuck in the newspaper.

I made my way to the deserted third floor. The third floor was always deserted, even during the day time. That was where you could find works of fiction. Everything from Grisham to Bulgakov. I even stumbled on a copy of Fanny Hill one day. Needless to say, students researching corn production in Albania or binomial theory had little time for novels.

I was trying to decided what might strike my fancy for a cold Friday night when a voice said, "Can I help you find something?"

I turned to find a young man, probably ten years younger than me, with short dark hair and broad shoulder. He had friendly eyes and a smile that would have been arrogant if he had been ten years older.

"No thank you," I said. "I just can't decide if I want Jane Austen or Bronte."

"Which Bronte?" he asked, leaning against the shelves.

"Any of them," I said. "Or all of them. I'm easy to please."

He grinned. "You're professor Smith?"

"Yes. Well, not really. I'm an adjunct. No doctorate."

"My friend, Chris is in one of your classes." He moved closer. He was cute, in a boyish way.

I thought for a minute. Chris was a star football player and a surprisingly good student. "I like Chris. He seems like a good guy."

"You like them big?" He asked.

"Pardon?" I felt my face start to color.

"Books," he said, and leaned closer. "You like those big, thick ones."

I tilted my head and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "Yes, something that will last a good, long time."

"He says you're a good teacher."

"Who says?"

"Chris, our mutual friend."

He smiled and stared. The stare lasted long enough that I averted my eyes. Then, he pulled a book off the shelf. "Ever read Turn of the Screw?"

I took the book from him and pretended to read the first paragraph. "I like it," I said, doing my best to sound disinterested. "Doesn't look as good as Hard Times, but I'm a huge Dickens fan."

"You like Dickens?"

"I love Dickens. I can spend a whole night, cuddled up in front of the fire with some Dickens. His books are so long and thick. There's just something about older books."

"There's some good, young authors out there," he said. "You might like one of the new classics." He took me by the arm and we strolled further into the stacks. "Of course, you've read Tender is the Night."

"Of course. But I do enjoy Testament of Youth a bit more."

He placed an arm around my waist to guide me around the corner. He pulled down another book and handed it to me. "Of Human Bondage," I said, and moistened my lips. "I don't think that's my cup of tea. The Stranger: Now that's something a girl can sink her teeth into."

"Never read it, but I'd really like to. It sounds as good as Wild Season." We stopped in an aisle where the florescent bulbs had burned out. He began to slide his hands down my hips, his face hidden in shadows. "So, are you seeing anyone?"

"A good man is hard to find. Besides, I'm a teacher, you're a student."

"Yes," he said, bending down to kiss me. "It's a real Catch-22."

I gently removed his hands and deftly avoided his lips. I grabbed a book at random and gave it to him. "I should be getting on the road." I walked away slowly as he read the cover of the book.

"Hey," he shouted. "The Idiot?"