The Bookseller

This story is an experiment with female first-person viewpoint. Hopefully it works.

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I whistled tunelessly as I unlocked the door to my little bookstore. The bell rang as I pushed my way in. My hands were full of two boxes of new inventory and my big shoulder purse got hung up on the doorknob. I cursed in most unladylike fashion and freed myself. I let the boxes thump down on the front counter and dropped my bag behind the desk. It was two hours before I opened, and I immediately set to shelving the new stuff. One box contained some pretty cool books from edgy and important authors that have a hard time getting space at chain stores. The other box was filled with science fiction, mysteries, and trashy romance novels–You know, stuff that pays the lease.

On the bottom of the high-class box were two copies of a new coffee table book of classy nudes from a famous photographer. I chuckled at the shrink wrap they came wrapped in, provided by the publisher to ensure they weren’t pawed all over before they could be sold. I deliberately peeled the wrap off of one copy and gave the inside a quick look. Yep, it was like a mildly arty oversized Playboy, without the annoying, superfluous articles. I’m not really attracted to other women, but like anyone, I can tell the difference between a sexy one and not. These models were all squarely in the blazingly hot category. I took the two copies of the book to what I call my Perv Bait section. The wrapped one would sell eventually. The unwrapped one would draw in a certain type of man (or woman). They’d browse the store, swing by the Art & Photography section to oggle the open books like this, then buy something else on their way out to justify why they were in my store in the first place. It’s like the way my brother always buys seven random things he doesn’t need to ‘distract’ the world from the fact that he is on an emergency run to buy pads for his wife.

It was quick work putting out the commercial stuff. It was all paperbacks and needed no thought. Half of them just slotted in with the rest of their respective series. My eye caught a bodice-ripper from an author I had not seen before. The cover was a bit more lurid than the norm. I paused to appreciate the blonde-haired shirtless hero in the foreground holding the busty heroine in one arm. Her bodice had literally been ripped and much more of her fleshy cleavage was exposed than you usually see on these covers. The hero was glaring off toward the background, where a second, raven-haired, and equally shirtless hunk stood darkly.

Huh. I took the book with me back to the front desk. I had just read one of the few Faulkners that I’d never tried before. About midway through, I had come to realize why I hadn’t read it. Still, I soldiered through and had finished it, and my mind figured it deserved some brain-candy.

I barely had a chance to open my new pleasure read when my alarm buzzed and I sighed. Time to open the store. I pressed the Open scene on my smartphone. The customer door unlocked, the electronic sign went from closed to open, and the full store lighting came on. I returned to my comfy seat behind the register and braced for the onslaught of customers. Not. My lease said I had to open at the same time each day, EVERY day. Almost without exception, I would not see a customer darken the door for another two hours, except on weekends. But I had to open the door. I never scheduled any of my staff to come in before noon. I just used the quiet mornings for paperwork, inventory, or on days like today, a little light reading.

From the start of the second chapter, I realized that this book was different from most romances. First off, it was better written and more engaging from the start than most I had read, even by the big name writers. But more to my point, the second chapter kicked off with the first love scene and… wow. This was not some flowery read, full of elegant, indirect metaphors for the characters’ actions. This was some high-class, graphically descriptive smut about some very creative sex. And it all was still mostly couched in period vocabulary, which was quite a feat.

I reflected that I was caught up on things, and had plenty of time. I deliberately slowed the pace of my reading to better enjoy the book. I like a good sex scene. I like good sex too, but in the absence of that in recent months, I was going to have to settle for the book.

Of course, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bell over the door rang.

It was one of my semi-regulars. He was a tall guy and slender, or maybe rangy is a better word. He was always polite at checkout. But we had hardly ever said two words to each other beyond the ritual phrases like, “Did you find everything you need?” and “Thanks. Have a nice day.” If it wasn’t for the fact that when he did come in, it was always during these morning dead times, I doubt I’d have even known he existed, or at least that he was a repeat customer. But since he only dropped in during usually customer-free times, I was familiar with him.

For instance, he was a regular visitor to the Perv Bait section. I know because I have a few security cameras in the store, and their feeds all display live at the bottom of my register computer’s display. It is fixed facing away from customers, so no one but staff knows the cameras are there. I have two placed in sections where I regularly get some theft. I have one set to wide angle in the kids area, so I can see when Mom has abandoned her spawn there and they start chewing on the merchandise. The last is in the Perv Bait aisle. I don’t have it there to spy on the men. I just like to know when some twelve year-old discovers the books, so I can wander along and suddenly appear in that aisle to ‘shelve some books’ nearby. I don’t get repeat offenders in the under-age set.

But the cameras do mean that I knew one unusual thing about this customer. He was going to be a while shopping for books he was actually interested in BEFORE he stopped by for some eye candy. I knew I would have a good sale, and that I had plenty of time for my book.

I admit I was getting hooked on this one pretty quickly. The story was already more unpredictable than most. The two men competing for the heroine’s affections were both interesting. The best part was, I wasn’t certain which was the hero and which was the heel. I know that I was supposed to see Christophe, the blonde holding the heroine on the cover, as the hero, and Stephano, the swarthy one, as the bad guy. But this author had already taught me not to trust her… in a good way. And the heroine was enough like me, red-haired, fair, and slender yet voluptuous, to let me really get into the character.

Okay, let’s not get crazy. I am red-haired. I am as pale as a sheaf of copier paper. My waist is indeed quite noticeably narrower than my hips. And I do have a nice pair of girls. But I am no romance novel heroine or other paragon of femininity. And I sure as hell am not the sex bomb described in the book I was reading–just superficially close enough to let me fantasize…

Bernadette gasped at the straining, rigid rod of manhood revealed before her. It entranced her and she found one delicate hand, as if of its own volition, reach out to touch it. Her fingertips traced its apex lightly and it bounded toward her in response. She yanked her hand back with a squeal of terror and delight. Her heart wavered with the deliciously scandalous nature of her position. Deeper in her feminine parts, her fluttering was more urgent and primal.

Christophe’s aroma was heady. His lightly-worn but omnipresent perfume was masculine and made her skin flush with each whiff. A terrible thought seized Bernadette and she leant forward to see if that magical staff possessed the same aroma. It did and she leaned further still. Christophe’s hands laid themselves gently along the back of her head, caressing her fiery locks. A gentle encouragement from those soft, powerful hands, and she could not resist laying her ruby lips upon the purple helmet of his manhood. Would it be so wrong to taste it? Could it possibly be as wonderful upon her tongue as it was to her eyes and olfactory senses?

Curiosity overtook propriety and she slid her mouth over and down the rampant shaft. It was indeed as wonderful in flavor as it was mythical in scope, and Bernadette’s depths throbbed with desire as she pressed her tongue against its underside as she slid it in and out of her lips’ embrace. Her hand reached…

“Hello!” the customer said in his usual shy manner. His approach to the front desk where I sat probably hadn’t been stealthy, but I missed it completely because of how engrossed I was in my reading. I jumped, and probably blushed as I hopped to my feet. I slapped down my book on the counter. As I did so, I realized that the lurid cover was face up on the counter in front of him, and I tried to casually flip it over. I failed at the casual part, and tragically lost my place in the book.

“Hi!” I said back brightly. He handed me four books: Two sci-fi, a mystery, and an old collection of Far Side cartoons. “Four books! That’s more than you usually buy. Thanks.” I said in a rush.

“I have a flight this evening,” he replied softly. He seemed surprised that I recognized him at all, much less knew his buying habits. That was fair, if he had usually come in at 2:30, I would never have known he existed. This was certainly the most we had ever said to each other.

I kept looking at him, and I suddenly wondered why I had not noticed him before. He was no matinee idol, but his face was very nice, and I felt like I saw some strength of character behind his shy, diffident smile. He handed me cash, as always.

“You know, I’ve never seen a credit card so I don’t even know your name!” I blurted out brightly. Of its own volition, my hand extended to him. “I’m Gerry!”

He smiled a very pretty smile and replied, “Hi Gerry, I’m Roger–uh–Rog. I go by Rog.” He took my hand and shook it firmly like a businessman would. It was just an ordinary social handshake, but my groin just exploded for a moment. I actually shifted my footing to keep from squirming. All I could think of for moment was how BIG his hands were. They dwarfed mine. I am NOT the kind girl who is always evaluating dudes’ hands and feet for size, but that damn book I was reading had my mind and body both on red alert!

I handed him his change a little wobblily and he waved meekly as he left. I watched him go. He had a nice ass, too. And it was an objectively nice ass, I realized. I would have thought that at any time, not just then in my hyper-horny state. I just had never actually looked at it before now.

With him gone, I heaved a sigh and looked down in relief.

And groaned again. My nipples were showing. They must have been showing the whole time–big and proud. I was mortified. And it was not as if I was some braless floozy with a tight t-shirt. I had a bra on. And my shirt was my usual white, button-down blouse. Sure, I wore it tight a little tight over my breasts, but damnit, I looked good that way. The point was, it was not a get up designed to show off pokies. But today of course, the girls would not be contained….

Damn. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed, or turned on, or anything. But he HAD to have seen them, right? I mean they were practically waving at him to get his attention. Maybe he was completely clueless? A girl could always hope. Maybe he was gay?

I shoved the book in my oversized purse and went off to do some work.

Early the next week, I again had been open less than an hour in the morning dead time when I ran out of actual work to do. I plopped down at the front desk and could not help but reach of the book. I had devoured a couple of chapters over the weekend and it just kept getting better. And dirtier. I was convinced now that it had been written as one of the thousands of industrial-grade spank books Amazon publishes on the Kindle, but the publisher had realized how good a story it really was and took a flyer.

I had ordered five more copies and had already made up a shelf tag that said, “WARNING! For Adult Readers Only!” I was betting that I’d be re-ordering in two weeks.

So far, it had become clear that Stephano was indeed the bad guy, but he never seemed to do anything terribly unforgivable, and I wondered if the book was setting up a redemption arc for him later on. Regardless, Bernadette was in his clutches at the moment. She had turned the tables on him in the prior chapter, and I was watering at the mouth to get on with the next chapter, where I suspected she was going to redeem his brains out.

Why, yes… it had been a while for me. My last boyfriend was a year in the rearview mirror, and my last date that ended ‘really well’ was several months back.

I settled into my comfy chair at the checkout desk and dug into the book. I had barely read far enough to determine that, as I had suspected, Stephano’s rather courtly, even gentlemanly imprisonment of Bernadette was going to take on a rather more exciting character due to prodding from Bernadette’s insatiable… curiosity, when the bell on the door rang and Roger (Rog, wasn’t it?) walked in. I smiled and called a breezy cheerio to him, with a bit too breathless a voice, due to the heat already coming from this chapter. I winced when he almost shied away from the undertone in my voice, but he waved and headed off toward the Fantasy section.

Shrugging, I returned to the book.

Stephano stood before Bernadette, looming over her where she sat on the edge of the overlarge white bed, with its plethora of pillows and soft, goose-down cover. Bernadette clasped her unfastened gown haphazardly to her bounteous womanhood, the disorganized fabric only partially covering and even less partially concealing her soft womanly curves. He was angry with her, as was usually the case, and his massively thewed frame took her aback. Yet she sensed a hesitation in him, especially now that he encountered her in such disarray. There was within her a power, a power over Stephano–A power she felt an uncontrollable desire to exert over him and his arrogant bluster.

“See here, sirrah!” she scolded hautily, like a woman of far higher birth than hers of a simple country lord. “To come upon a woman in such a state of undress and lecture her on your boastful plans is unseemly!” she leaned forward, letting her tangle of clothing slide further down and around so that Stephano was presented with a vast vista down her chest between her fulsome ornaments. She spied his gaze riveted upon the sight she presented and felt a further surge of her power.

“My eyes, good sir, are up here,” she snapped, and Stephano’s gaze swiftly rose to meet hers. He flushed at being called out and attempted to return to his own agenda.

“Nevertheless, milady Bernadette,” he began again.

“Nevertheless nothing, Stephano,” she interrupted. “It is bad enough that you stand with me in your full view as I struggle with my damaged garment, but you do so with full evidence of your lustful desires available for all to see!”

“I… what? I am not…” he stuttered, now utterly taken back upon his heels.

“You sir, are, if a lady may use such a word, engorged!” she snapped. Stephano’s eyes widened in affront layered with guilt. “I shall demonstrate,” Bernadette uttered sternly. With that, she briskly, and with both a fury and confidence she did not feel in her heart reached out to the massive man’s trousers. They were indeed over-full to plain sight, but she wanted to make her point utterly clear. She briskly unbuttoned them before Stephano could react and the front fell open, revealing a truly impressive male member, grown to the full extent of its function.

Stephano was dumbfounded at her forwardness. Bernadette was likewise dumbfounded, no longer at her own audacity, but instead at the shaft of glory before her. Her hands clung to the front of his trousers on their own accord, as it reluctant to loose their grip lest they slide away from its magnificence. Her own garment fell completely away to her waist and Stephano’s eyes were fixated at the paired perfection so revealed.

Neither could speak.

Leaning forward as she was, Bernadette was overwhelmed by the aroma of the big man. Unlike Christophe’s elegant, gentle perfume, Stephano’s scent was natural. It was clean and yet overlaid with the fresh aroma of manly pursuits. Bernadette was as mesmerized by his redolence as Stephano was by her revealing disarray. Her hands released their hold on his trousers and clasped his regal shaft, at first hesitantly, then as her knowledge of her power over the ordinarily brooding man reasserted itself, she clasped it firmly at the base and traced the long blue vein that ran up its considerable length.

She could not help herself and took the swollen, obviously aching helm between her lips. Stephano moaned in…

I was so absorbed in the book, I too was making involuntary movements. My right hand clutched the book in its lightly sweaty grasp, but my left had at first begun stroking my right breast’s inner curve and was now massaging my left boob, the fingertips still caressing the right. Holy shit, had I UNBUTTONED an extra button on my shirt? I had!

And Rog was somewhere in the store. Fuck.

Not wanting to draw attention to myself with any sudden moves, I left my hand in place. Keeping my head down over the book, I sneaked a look at the camera monitor. Thank God, he was over by the Perv Bait. I told my hand to slowly release myself, but my lower-level brain changed the order to instead give my breast another good grope while he was still busy. I kept an eye on him for when he started moving. He had the new book I got in last week. The women in it were amazing, and I hoped he’d be busy with it for a while. Maybe I’d move my hand lower…

While I considered that, I stared at Rog in the monitor. Something was off. The book was open, but he wasn’t looking at it. His eyes were fixed and unmoving on the shelving front of him. The shelves in my store are higher than in a normal store, nearly ceiling height. I had bought them used from a library. They are metal and there are no backs, so if there are gaps in the stock on the shelves, you could see through them to the other side.

Rog was staring through the shelves straight in my direction. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Roger was standing in my store, watching me feel myself up. This was so embarrassing. This was also… He was standing there, with beautifully shot, clear, well-lit, naked pictures of the hottest women in the world right before him, and he was looking at me. I may have frozen at the initial realization that I was being observed, but my hand had never left my breast. I could not believe I was doing it, but I slid my hand forward under my shirt and into my bra to grasp my right boob and squeeze it gently. Sweet fuck, did that feel good.

At the same time I was on the verge of panic. I had to stop, or I’d lose it. I slid my hand free and cleared my throat. I popped my bookmark in the book and set it down on the counter, cover side up deliberately this time, and looked around casually. I heard the big coffee table book slap closed, and I saw Rog in the monitor, quickly shelving it again. When he turned, and started moving, I hastily rebuttoned my shirt (I found that I had actually unconsciously opened TWO extra buttons!).

He considerately cleared his throat loudly before he came around the end of a row of shelving and into view of me at the register, but I was already completely tidied up and was sitting there serenely, smiling politely at him as he approached. Rog also seemed casually unaffected–almost too unaffected for my taste.

“Didn’t find anything to buy today?” I asked in gentle, and genuine, surprise.

Rog’s eyes bugged out and his surface calm dissolved. “Oh! Crap! I put them down to look at another book and forgot them,” he called over his shoulder as he turned and rushed back to the Perv Bait aisle to get his intended purchases. When he returned he was still a little confused.

I thought about teasing him in his confusion, but since I was just barely containing my own inner turmoil, I thought it not wise. Or kind. But mostly, not wise. I was still gently sweating all over.

He paid in cash as always, and I laid his change down on top of my book for him to pick up. In part, I didn’t trust my hands to touch his, and in part I wanted to let him get a good look at the cover, associating the three-quarters naked red-haired bombshell on the cover with little old red-headed me.

As he left, I came to conscious terms with the fact that I wanted Rog. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have him, or to tease him mercilessly. I settled eventually on teasing him mercilessly… then having him. I could have simply asked him out, but he might have said no. I had no desire to chance that. Somehow, my brain had entwined Rog with my new book. Images of him kept flashing in and superimposing themselves when I was imagining Bernadette and her escapades. And I wanted to exert the same power over him that Bernadette was currently applying to Stephano. Finally, he really did have an objectively nice ass.

Rog was suddenly the object of a nascent plan the likes of which I had never concocted or even conceived of before. I believed it would likely crash and burn, but the whole elaborate idea turned me on so much it was probably worth it, just for the pleasure the planning.

If Rog stuck to his usual schedule, I wouldn’t see him until Friday or even early next week. But I hoped he might be drawn back earlier–I was certainly drawn to having him back earlier. So that very afternoon, I explored my own store, looking at it with a new eye. I made a few adjustments and noted them so I could reset them each morning before I opened. I wanted to be ready to launch my plan into action whenever he returned.

Beginning the next morning, I altered my style of dress just a little bit, leaning into the sexy librarian vibe. I exchanged my usual black slacks for a charcoal pencil skirt that ended well above my knees. My white cotton dress blouses stayed, but since my hands apparently wanted to unbutton a few extra, I indulged them, definitely leaving some real cleavage display. Once other staff came in each day, that could be easily altered. I pulled my old heavy black-rimmed glasses out of the drawer and left my contacts at home. Finally, I pulled my plentiful red hair back into a very severe bun behind my head, pinning it in place with the long jeweled hairpin I had bought a year ago at an antique mall.

Rog didn’t come the next day. I hadn’t expected him to, but I still felt a stab of disappointment when Stacy, my afternoon help wandered in at lunchtime. She validated my clothing decisions when she saw me and whistled, “Wow, Gerry! Putting in some extra effort? It looks good.” I left the store early. Stacy was my most reliable worker, and I wanted to shop a little to fine-tune my new wardrobe/weapons array.

I made myself giggle picking out some new underwear that was nothing like I usually wore. I even bought a garter belt and several pairs of black stockings with visible black seams up the back. I had never worn garters and stockings before and I prayed I wouldn’t need to resort to YouTube instructional videos to figure out how to put them on. I found two new white blouses that were more fitted around my midsection, making my boobs look bigger than they were. Then I hit the jackpot with a dressy black skirt. It was just long enough to not be scandalous, with the hem resting at mid-thigh on me. Better yet, it was a wrap around, and if I lifted my leg much at all, it split open to reveal even more of my upper thigh. All I would have to do is walk sedately up a set of stairs and anyone paying attention would know I was wearing stockings, not my usual pantyhose.

I wore the whole getup on Thursday. Rog did not show, which again frustrated but did not surprise me. The effect of my new wardrobe was very definitely demonstrated when my other main employee John came in to work, ten minutes late as per usual. John was a college kid and a bit of a nerd. He was smart as a whip, super well-read, and was great with customers, but otherwise a fairly lazy employee. His eyes bugged out when he walked in and saw me standing there in my ‘enhanced’ new wardrobe. I smiled hello and walked toward him. John swallowed and practically ran to the register to clock in. He then bolted off to another part of the store, busying himself with work so he didn’t have to be around me. I couldn’t tell whether he was hiding a boner, or was trying to avoid popping one. Either way, whenever he slacked off I had only to walk near him and he’d shoot off to straighten shelves, run the sweeper, or process some online orders. I’d always thought he had a bit of a crush on me anyway, but this was rather heartening. Was John’s junk big enough to be all that noticeable if he got hard over me?

In other news, I was now so horny that I was contemplating the dick size of my nerdy employee….

I was loaded for bear on Friday, with the best of my new bras, the form-fittingest of my new blouses, collar popped up in back, and the severe yet revealing skirt. I even wore my three and a half inch black patent pumps. If Rog didn’t show, and I suppose even if he did, when John came in to work he was either going to have to learn to live with a boner in front of his boss, or just continue his new life of actually working for his paycheck.

I got in early enough to have all my morning work done well before opening. I checked my preparations around the store, and settled in by the front door. If Rog didn’t show today, I really was going to be downcast. His usual pattern would have only meant a fifty-fifty chance of his coming in, but after our little co-voyeur moment last time, I figured he’d be here with bells on if he could, and if he wasn’t, it likely meant that he wouldn’t be coming back at all. That possibility sucked.

To get in the mood, I returned to the instigating book. The story had taken a turn I had definitely not expected and a new villain had emerged. That threat to both Bernadette and the duchy could only be countered by the efforts of Christophe and Stephano in cooperation. They resisted working together of course, and I felt it inevitable that in the next chapter the heroine was going to force their hands, cooperation-wise, by having sex with them both simultaneously. Even without my main aim of lying in wait this morning for Rog, knowing that this chapter was next to read would alone have been enough to make me prepare for damp panties… IF I had been wearing panties, that is.

I pressed the button on the automation app on my phone which changed the sign by the door from red CLOSED to green OPEN, and the smart lock on the door silently clicked open. I started to read, but even this book was unable to keep my concentration. After barely a page, I was fidgeting.

Would Rog come today, as I suspected he would? As I hoped he would? He did travel a lot, I thought. Maybe he couldn’t come? But maybe I had scared him off for good. Maybe I wasn’t that appealing to him. He had been staring at me, sure, but maybe he was just watching me make a fool of myself in public?

My resolve, my focus was wavering at a very bad time. But I could not stop asking the questions over and over in my mind. My vision strayed to the register computer and the video feeds. An idea struck me and I brought up the file from the camera pointed at Rog on the day I felt myself up. I scrubbed through the video until I saw him step into the frame. I smiled a little as he went straight to the new book, the one I remembered him looking at. He’d obviously seen it before. He opened it, then looked around to make sure no one else was around. He never even looked down at the book before his gaze slipped through the bookshelf in front of him and he obviously spied me. From that point forward he just stared at me unmoving, shifting only a little here and there to apparently get a better view of me reading and touching myself.

Jesus, how long had I sat there feeling myself up? More to the point, was he turned on, or just fascinated by my foolishness? I got my answer when he started having to adjust the front of his pants! He did it several times, in fact, and his hand lingered on his junk more and more each time he shifted things around to accommodate his growing ‘problem’. I smiled and deleted the file. I had my answer.

Once again sure of myself, I picked up the book. Was I really sure of myself? No. This was a totally new thing I was going to try, and it could collapse with a bang, or worse, with a whimper. But I was absolutely sure I was going to try it.

If Rog showed up, that is.

I’d been agonizing for what seemed like forever when I looked at the clock. It was 9:18. I’d been sitting there for less than twenty minutes. I shook my head and bent to the book. It was still too early for Rog to get here anyway.

The bell on the door rang and Rog walked in less than 60 seconds later. He’d never come in this early.

I looked up from the book and smiled at him. “Hi, Rog!” I called, straightening up my back and blinking at him through my black framed glasses. My prescription was just strong enough to make my eyes look a little bigger than natural through them, and I hoped that Rog was into the look of slightly slutty anime librarians. His eyes did indeed widen at the sight of me and his nostrils even flared a little in a very encouraging sign.

“I, uh, hi, Gerry! It’s a beautiful, uh, day, isn’t it?” He stammered. He seemed to want to keep talking, perhaps to let his voice smooth out. I was holding my book up before me, lurid cover facing him. He nodded casually at the book. “Still working on that one?”

I would not have expected him to openly acknowledge the book! That was promising. “Yes,” I smiled again, looking down at the pages for a moment. “I keep coming back to it. I can’t help it. It’s intense.”

Rog couldn’t come up with anything else to say after that, and waved a little before heading back to the rest of the store. I checked the monitor and sure enough, he had gone straight to the Perv Bait area first thing. He didn’t even bother with the books back there, he just went to observe me through the stacks. I wanted to reward him. My hand stole up and rubbed across my belly, brushing the underside of my breasts while I read.

Bernadette stood before and between the two massive gentlemen, her temper matching her fiery locks as they waved in the breeze.

“Enough, good sirs!” she exclaimed passionately. “I cannot–will not, permit you to continue to fight one another over me. The duchy requires that you work together.”

“I,” she emphasized regally, “require that you work together!” She reached out to place a hand gently on each man’s burly chest. She stepped forward between them. “I shall teach you that you can indeed work in concert,” she breathed softly. Her hands began to slowly slide downward on each man’s hard muscled body.

I hadn’t even meant to, but my hand had already slid upward to grasp my boob again. I watched Rog on screen through the corner of my eye and he was very still as I squeezed and massaged myself. I kept at it until I clearly felt my headlights poking through my blouse. I hoped he could see them at that distance.

Regardless, it was time to move on. I blew out a long breath and fanned myself with the book. Looking around as if to see if Rog or any other imagined customer, could see me. I rose from my chair and stealthily slipped back among the shelves. I moved slowly, and peered around each corner as if I did not want to be observed. Of course, the only other person in the store was Rog, and I knew he was behind me. If all went well, he was fairly close behind me.

I reached the back corner of the store and slid back along the last row of shelves. I stopped midway along, and leaned back against the shelving unit that was against the wall. I opened the book again and resumed reading, my senses alive for the sounds of movement. He was quiet. The first indication of him was a flash of movement through the shelf unit facing me. Rog has slipped into the next aisle over and seemed to have found the narrow gap in the books that I had arranged at just below his eye level that would give him a good view of where I stood. I smiled at this, and at the book, as I read.

Her hands softly explored the front of both men’s trousers, but Bernadette kept her gaze downcast, avoiding either’s gaze.

Both men were of course shocked at such a scandalous turn of events. Her actions were far beyond the Pale, improper on a scale they could not quite conceive, even for this wild spirit that they both loved and lusted for. Her caress of the swelling sign of their arousal held each man paralyzed at first, but then as one, they bestirred themselves to protest.

Bernadette cut them both off with a stern squeeze of her fingers upon their masculinity, hard enough to return them into silence after but a word or two. She massaged them gently for a moment in reward for their silence. “Very good, my darlings,” she said, her voice dark but loving. Her hands stole away from they lower regions and went to the tightly fastened neck of her heavy over cloak. “I will teach you… I will SHOW you,” she went on, unfastening the cloak and letting it slide off her to the ground, “that you can indeed share.”

She stood between them, bereft of even the simplest undergarment–naked under their hungry gaze.

My mind snapped back to my own plans for male manipulation. Fortunately my hands had continued with the syllabus without me, and had my shirt unbuttoned far enough that Rog could surely see the white, lacy, and undersized bra I was wearing. I felt myself up a little more, this time with my hand inside my shirt.

I slowly lifted my leg and perched it on the rolling stool I had left back there for this purpose. The luridly high heels I wore pushed my leg up quite high. The slit of the wrap-around skirt fell open along my thigh almost to the hip. The top of my stocking was completely exposed, along with the black strap of my garter. My hand slipped off of my breast and caressed my thigh in turn. I trailed my fingers up and down the silky nylon. I shivered a little in response to my own touch, the image of Bernadette jacking off two hunks simultaneously, and especially the sound of quiet but increasingly shallow breathing I could hear for the other side of the shelves. I didn’t want to look up and chance him seeing that I knew he was there, not yet. But I had also left gaps in the books down low and I saw his shoes through one of those. I shivered again, and my own breathing became shallower in turn as I slid my fingers higher on my leg, tugging first on the garter strap, then sliding down the inner side of my raised thigh and then up under my skirt. I let my fingertips brush along my pantyless vagina and I felt my blood rush.

I jerked my hand from between my legs as if suddenly realizing that I was getting carried away. I let my fingers dangle once more in my cleavage as I looked to my side toward the aisle and the rest of the store, making a show of listening.

I let my eyes drift back to the book and resumed letting my fingers unbutton my blouse until it was completely open. The tails were still tucked tightly in the waist of my skirt, so I tugged gently on one side, loosening it enough to where it hung open enough to fully expose my breast. The demi cups of loose white lace were cut so low that they barely covered the bottoms of my nipples. I let my fingers tease at the exposed, pink, achingly erect love button on my exposed breast. I fanned myself with the book and teased at the other side of my blouse.

I reached up behind my head and tugged the hairpin free. I shook my head gently as my hair spilled out and down around my face and shoulders in unconscious fashion. I had practiced this little move in the mirror about twenty times the previous night. I delicately placed the pin in my book as a mark and set the book aside, as if for just a moment. Bernadette would have to get out of her current dilemma of which stallion to blow first and which too fuck first without me.

Was Rog touching himself? God, I wanted him to be touching himself. I imagined spreading my skirt wide and fingering myself under his watching eye. He would finally open his pants, take out his cock, and be unable to restrain himself from jacking off as well.

That little fantasy could be a problem. It might be hard to sell cum-soaked gardening books. Besides, I didn’t want to share his cum with any books, thank you.

Instead, I slowly, deliberately raised my gaze to where I knew his eyes would be. There he was, hunched over just a little bit to spy on me. The gap in the books on the shelf in front of him was nearly a foot wide. So was the gap on the shelf on my side, but the gaps were offset, and he only had four inches or so to peek through. I had wanted him to work a little.

Our eyes met, and his widened in panic. I just smiled and held his gaze until I was sure he was still rooted to the spot. Then I tugged the tails of my blouse free and slid the garment off my shoulders, letting it slide to the ground behind me. By now I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to run away, so I let my gaze drift downward again. I let my fingers run over my breasts, tracing their outlines and teasing at my nipples. I slid my hands lower and unfastened the waist of my skirt, I slowly pulled the front wide open, letting him see at last that I wore no underwear. I heard an audible, very gratifying gasp from behind the books.

I had earlier left a book on the floor back here. I turned away from Rog and bent down quite slowly to pick it up. Then I stood on the rolling stool I had braced on earlier and stretched up to reshelve the volume on the top shelf. A brief, quiet moan came from behind me, just loud enough to hear. I turned my head over my shoulder and smiled back at Rog. The power I held over his enraptured gaze was intoxicating.

But it HAD been a while for me. I wanted much more than his gaze right then.

“I feel you watching me,” I said softly. “I felt you watching me before. I like it. Do you like watching me?” I asked, finally inviting him to speak.

“Yes,” Rog said slowly, his voice equal parts shame and hunger.

“I like watching you too, Rog,” I said, stepping down from the stool and turning full on to face him. “Would you come around here so I can watch more of you?” He took a deep breath and stepped around the end of the shelves. I looked at him as he came into view, tall and desirable, but hesitant. The front of his khakis were quite gratifyingly distended. He clearly wanted to use his hands to hide that fact, but he couldn’t figure out a way that wouldn’t look ridiculous.

He swallowed and spoke, “I’m sorry to be spying on you, it’s just… you’re so… oh my God, you’re beautiful. I couldn’t help myself, I had to follow you.” I smiled and he rushed on, “I know it’s wrong, but…”

“Wrong?” I cut him off. “Wrong, Rog? I’ve discovered I really like having you watch me. Do you think I came back here to strip down like this for some reason other than locking your hungry gaze on me?” Rog was still hanging back at the end of the aisle. I was beginning to worry. I wanted the heady feel of having him in my thrall, but I also wanted to see some assertiveness from him. Would he get his shit together, or was I going to have to tell him to do everything. That idea had some appeal, I’ll admit, but not as much as a collaboration.

I waved him toward me, letting some of my impatience sound in my voice. “Come closer! I want to see you too.”

He paused for one more second, before the dumbfounded expression on his face finally clicked into a grin. He took a few steps closer to me and I could see his spine straighten. It had been pretty straight before, but now, at last, he was posturing himself. Unbidden, he tugged his shirt up and off over his head. I loved the view of his torso as he revealed it to me. He was no chiseled masterpiece of muscle like the two hunks on the cover of my book, but his spare frame was fit enough, and there was not an ounce of belly fat on him. I smiled a little, and let my tongue slip barely free to wet my lips.

As a reward, I stepped closer to him in turn, stopping just beyond my reach and his. I looked once more at his hands. Even if their size did not herald what I hoped they did, I was going to enjoy them caressing me soon. But not yet. “You look good to me too, Rog,” I murmured, “But I still feel I’m showing you more of me than you are of you. Help a girl out?” I crossed my arms under my breasts, intentionally pushing them upward. I felt my erect nipples pop even more clear of the delicate demis.

He slowly kicked off his sandals, and shook his head. “This is crazy, Gerry. You’re incredible, and I’m just… me.”

I laughed. “Roger, you look delicious,” I snorted. “And I’m betting you will look much more so if you’d just get on with it.”

He muttered embarrassedly and fiddled with his fly.

“Rog, please. Drop your pants!” I said. My words could have been interpreted as begging or as commanding. I was a little hocked at myself how much it felt to ME like I was begging. I was practically aching now to see more of him, all of him. “You can’t be embarrassed. From what I see of that bulge in your pants, you have nothing to be ashamed of!”

“Oh yeah?” Rog asked sardonically. He shook his head and unzipped swiftly. In a single motion, he let his khakis drop to the floor. The size of Rog’s hands indeed told no lies. His dick was the opposite of something to be ashamed of. It was no porn star staff of power, but it was meaty and fulsome. It looked perfect and tasty and stiff as a board. I guessed his reluctance was due to the fact that he wore no underwear!

I laughed delightedly. “Commando, Rog? And here I thought that I was the one who prepared for this morning!”

He grinned sheepishly. “I came early today, hoping I could get another view of you like I did Tuesday. And, well, on Tuesday I got all tangled up in my underwear while I watched. I didn’t want to be that uncomfortable again.” He grinned, his humor asserting itself. “I’m glad I did. The show you just put on today might have snapped my dick right off if I’d been wearing underwear today.” Yep, he seemed to be fully with the program now, taking a long step closer to me as he spoke. He reached out and lightly laid his hands on my waist, along my garter belt. “It’s also good because I’d have hated for you to see how ridiculous I look in my usual tighty whities!”

I closed the last few inches between us and caressed his chest while I felt his hands tremble a little on my waist. The ridiculously high heels I still wore were all I need to be able to reach up and kiss him gently. He did not leave the kiss gentle for more than a moment. His response became fierce and his arms wrapped fully around me, pressing me against him and his eager cock. His tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, but was momentarily blocked by my own tongue demanding entrance to his.

His hands slid down my back and gripped my bare backside, his massaging fingers demonstrating his need as much as his demanding lips. I wriggled my hips in his grasp.

Breaking off our kiss, I gasped, “I’ve been fantasizing about this ever since you started spying on my at the front desk, but your arms feel even better than I dreamt.”

He looked at me with a smile, “You’ve been fantasizing about getting naked among the bookshelves with me for three months?”

My turn to be taken aback. “I just noticed you looking at me last WEEK! Are you telling me you weren’t back there reading the Perv Bait?”

“The nudie books?” he laughed, looking innocent. That is a very hard expression for a guy to carry off when his raging naked hard-on is pressed into your belly. I just glared at him with a trace of a grin. “Okay. Some of them do have some amazing pictures, but I just always grabbed one so I’d have an excuse to be there other than staring at you if someone surprised me.”

“Are you telling me that I’ve been touching myself at the register for the last three months?” I demanded, letting my hands on his chest slide lower and lower.

“Oh no,” Rog chortled, “that was new last week. I highly approved, though. Before, I just liked to look at you and didn’t want you thinking I was some slack-jawed stalker.”

I finally let my hands touch his cock, grasping it softly with both hands.

“So what you are saying,” I murmured up into his ear, “is that you ARE a slack-jawed stalker, you just didn’t want me to know about it.” I kissed his neck hard enough to hopefully raise a hickey.

“Oh God,” Rog groaned as I grasped him, stalker comments overtaken by events.

“Listen,” I said as I kissed along his shoulder, “what I thought has been more than a week of awesome foreplay turns out to be a couple of months. If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll melt down.”

Thankfully, Rog’s hesitancy was long gone, and he lifted my up by my ass. He turned and pressed me back against the wall, resting a few pounds of my weight on the edge of a shelf and not coincidentally, I’m sure, leaving my hips at just the right height for him. I felt his cock probe my vagina, which felt completely wet. I could only plead for more as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. And more I got.

He waggled his glans against me until it slipped between my lips. I moaned as I felt him press deeper within me. He really was thick. I was really, really wet now and I could literally hear the passage of him in and out of my sodden home. I didn’t know if I wanted things to, ah, come to a head already, but I was loathe to get Rog to stop his marvelous work inside my folds.

A sound from outside the store penetrated our senses. It was nothing significant, just an ordinary sound, but Rog paused his efforts and snapped his head around toward the entrance.

“Don’t worry,” I gasped reassuringly and rockingly hips against him, “that was outside.”

Rog resumed his welcome efforts, but now he was almost franticly fast, as if forcing the issue. “What if someone comes in?” he grunted with a worried tone. “Will we hear the bell? We’ll never get dressed in time.”

“Easy, tiger!” I laughed. “I locked the door and turned on the closed sign when I came back here.”

In an instant, his thrusts became longer, slower, and a whole lot fucking more enjoyable. “So we have time?” he asked, his urgency replaced by languid enthusiasm.

That languid enthusiasm was hitting me in a pretty good spot at the moment, and I felt an orgasm coming on. “Oh yes,” I breathed. “We have until at least until a quarter to noon.” I threw my head back against the books and closed my eyes, my hands grasping his shoulders as his cock shuddered into me once more with repeated authority.

It really wasn’t the most comfortable position to screw in, nor the most stimulating angle of attack, so to speak, but Rog’s swift and eager efforts combined with the incredibly sexy situation had me breathing shallowly as I felt my muscles gathering themselves. I’d never so much as kissed a guy inside my bookstore before, but you can bet I’d fantasized about it.

Imagination was not living up to the real thing.

My breath began to stutter and I may have begun to mew like a cat or something. I was feeling the uncontrolled shudders begin to build in me. I squeezed Rog’s back and fought for air.

And the bastard pulled out and lifted me to the ground!

“What?!?” I almost wailed, wondering what I missed.

Rog was also panting, but from the exertion of supporting much of my weight and stroking my insides with that gleaming, sticky rod that now bounced between us. “If I had so much as thrusted one more time, I’d have come,” he panted.

“In case you hadn’t figured it out,” I snarked, “I’m okay with that!” I found myself laughing a bit inside at my own irritated frustration. “I was just about to get there too!”

Rog leered at me in gentlemanly fashion. “I can help with that,” he said, embracing me and gently bringing us both to the floor. He lay me on my back and pressed my still stocking-clad legs apart. He stroked his hands up my inner thighs and bent his head.

Good lord, he knew his way around down there with his tongue as well. What kind of jackpot had I hit? Rog gently spread my outer folds apart with delicate fingertips and ran his tongue from back to front of my pussy, ending with a flourish around my aching bud. My clit never swells very large, but it gets wildly sensitive and I was almost instantly back to the pre-orgasmic state of full-body tension I was experiencing before. Rog moved away from my clitoris and seemed to be tasting my juices, occasionally plunging his tongue deep inside me.

Backing off my clit bought Rog a few moments to enjoy himself before my composure utterly collapsed. I absolutely shrieked in ecstasy. I slapped the floor over and over again with both palms and thrust my hips up toward his face. My interior throbbed with wave after wave of ecstatic overload. Through wave after wave of crashing orgasm, everything looked blue, a beautiful shade of royal blue.

When I regained my mental facilities and full-spectrum vision, I realized the man still had his face buried between my legs. I felt his tongue swipe up over my now far too sensitive clit and I squirmed uncontrollably. I pushed him away from me hard, almost desperately, to save myself from some kind of lethal overdose of pleasure. I flopped back on the floor, closed my eyes and sucked in three cool, deep breaths.

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I saw that he was sitting up, one knee cocked in the air, and leaning against the bookshelves. His grin looked very satisfied. His cock looked much less so. “Does that make up for the coitus interruptus?” he asked merrily, wiping my juices from around his mouth.

“Paid in full,” I said, struggling to my knees. “In fact, I think I owe YOU some interest.” I slid over toward him, my fingers pinching a nipple where it peeked above the half cup of my bra. It was already hard as the rubber pencil eraser that it resembled. I released it and tucked a finger into the side of the bra and slid it around under my breast. The lacy cups on the bra were so delicate that they provided little, and no practical, support to my girls. The whole garment was really just there to not quite cover my nipples. It was easy to tuck the cup away under my breast, completely exposing it. I reached out and caressed Rog’s lean jaw. I smiled inwardly, he had not had my advanced notice of how today was going to go, or he’d have shaved as meticulously as I had…

Leaning forward, I gently pressed my exposed boob against his lips. They parted eagerly and he sucked on me hard. I felt my soft flesh pulled into him. His tongue lashed at my hard nipple inside his mouth. He lessened the pressure on me and I felt him shift. I gasped in delight as he gently bit my nipple, just hard enough to send a jolt of erotic energy up the back of my neck and down between my legs.

Rog raised a hand to my other breast and massaged it eagerly. He tugged and teased at the nipple where it poked up just above the lacy cup. Then he slid a finger down inside and, just as I had, slid it under my breast from one side to the other, leaving that girl just as exposed as the one he still had trapped in his mouth.

“You learn fast,” I cooed.

“There are some things,” Rog replied, a little garbled due to my breast blocking his mouth. “There are some things that men pay close attention to,” he went on, releasing my breast from his lips, “among them are beautiful women playing with their beautiful breasts.” With that, his latched his lips onto the breast he had just fully exposed and nibbled at that nipple as well. His bites were much gentler this time, but he added in some torture with his tongue, and I again was on fire.

“Now it’s my debt to you that keeps growing,” I said, pulling my nipple free of his torturous mouth. “Stand up,” I commanded.

“Yes ma’am!” he chuckled lightly in reply, clearly eager for what he suspected I had in mind.

I stayed on my knees before him, and reached out to drag my fingernails up the length of his still sticky, but drying shaft. “Oh, my,” he breathed, quivering slightly. Then he moaned less articulately as I grasped the base of his shaft and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock. I applied suction of my own as I took several inches of him into my mouth. My tongue lashed around his glans, in much the same way his had stimulated my nipples. Guys don’t seem to like teeth down there, of course, so I avoided returning THAT favor….

I released him with a loud gasp and squeezed the base of his cock gently while I began to lavish his entire equipment with long, dripping wet licks, leaving him drenched in my saliva. I straightened a bit and looked up into his hazel eyes while I began to run his sopping cock over the curves of my girls. Rog just looked down at me hungrily. I slid his shaft between my breasts, getting them wet in the process. I squeezed them together around him. He moaned and involuntarily thrust himself up between my better than naked boobs.

“That’s it, Rog,” I said softly. “More.”

His eyes sparkled down at mine as he slowly slid himself up and down between my tightly pressed mounds. His obvious pleasure was reward enough, but the feel of his hard, pulsing shaft sliding so smoothly against me had my flesh on fire.

Too soon, his cock began to dry out though, and the passage of his cock between my girls became less comfortable for either of us. I released their grasp on him and took his cock once more into my fingers. I licked but once at his tip before I took him again between my lips. I bobbed my head up and down gently, slipping him in and out past my delicately clasped lips.

I’m no deep-throat artist, but I was able to take most of him into my mouth repeatedly. It was clearly enough for Rog, as his head rolled back in mindless pleasure and his hands ran themselves delicately through my hair, never grabbing my head or anything aggressive like that.

His dick was throbbing heavily in no time, and he mustered his voice to tell me, “You better stop. Keep this up and I’m going to come.”

“That is my plan,” I observed, allowing his cock out of my mouth momentarily.

“I thought that we could finish like we began…” he went on hesitatingly.

“I have great faith,” I replied, pausing to take several inches into my mouth for but a moment, “in my ability to persuade this lovely body part to rally for a grand finale.” I licked my way up him from his unfortunately hairy balls to his magnificent purple head. “Now relax and come for me. I want to taste you.” Everything else about Rog was coming up aces, I had faith even his jizz would be tasty.

With that, I put my all into the work. My hand pumped his shaft vigorously while my head bobbed up and down, running his cock in and out along my saliva-sodden lips and tongue. I could feel the tension and pulsation of his member and I knew I was close to our reward.

Rog’s hands tightened involuntarily, tangling in my hair, but sweetly, he still managed to prevent himself from grabbing my head. “Now!” was all he managed to gasp. My hand became a blur up and down his shaft, and I let two inches of him rest inside my mouth, tongue flicking along its underside. I felt the tide surge up inside his shaft and despite my readiness, it almost overwhelmed me and escaped my lips. Almost. Rog babbled almost incoherently as his whole body shuddered. I thrilled at the power I had to make him lose control like this.

Alas, his semen was not the delicious treat I had hoped for. It wasn’t bad by any stretch, mind you, but it wasn’t top of the heap… it wasn’t Cum Laude. I snickered to myself. I carefully swallowed every bit, and stroked up his shaft carefully to milk every last drop into my mouth. It was tasty enough, and I enjoyed the little aftershocks Rog endured from my careful cleanup ministrations.

Arms around each other on the thinly carpeted floor, leaning against metal library-surplus bookshelves, was not the most comfortable of cuddles, but we both wanted to hold each other and neither wanted to move to the comfy couch or chairs I had, since they were all in full view of the windows. So cuddling naked, or mostly naked, on that floor is what we did. We kissed gently, sporadically, and wordlessly at first, our hands idly exploring each other’s bodies at random intervals. Well, Rog was touching one or the other of my breasts in some manner pretty much full time, but neither of us was really attempting any real stimulation of the other in our temporary exhaustion.

At first, we spoke not a word. I think we were each afraid to try conversation lest we discover that one of us was boring, or worse, we didn’t like each other. The silence finally got a bit oppressive for me, and I wracked my brain for a book I’d seen him buy that I had also read. Ah!

“Rog,” I piped up softly, “did I see you buy The Red Bishop’s Gambit?”

“Yeah,” Rog replied, his face buried in the mass of my hair. He took a deep whiff of it, then lifted up his head. “What did you think of it? And why did they do the cover art in a chess motif?”

“I know,” I laughed softly. “There isn’t one sentence about chess in the book.”

We talked about that and two other books by the same author, then we lapsed back into companionable silence.

I for one was feeling on the verge of recovery, and was considering escalating my idle exploration of Rog’s body when he suddenly laughed. I smiled and asked him what was so funny. “I spent all morning before I got here trying to screw up the courage to ask you out for a cup of coffee! And I don’t think I had quite convinced myself to try it…”

“Really? A lousy cup of coffee meetup?” I scoffed, poking him in the ribs a little. “I’d say the signs are pretty good you could manage to get a full dinner date, if you put your mind to it!”

Rog laughed with me, then he suddenly asked, “How about Saturday night?” He went on swiftly, like someone lunging at a sudden opportunity before it disappears. “I could pick you up here at close, or maybe at your place, if you want to change first.”

“I think I’ll have you pick me up at my place,” I said. “I’d think you’d rather I change out of my work clothes and freshen up.”

“I don’t know,” Rog said with a raised eyebrow, “your work outfit today was pretty smashing…”

I pushed symbolically against his chest. “Sexy librarian would be a bit much for the occasion, I think,” I said archly. “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong ideas. After all. I almost never put out on a first date.”

“Almost?” Rog replied, with an arch expression. His personality was delightfully mercurial. Here he was yet again making the near instant transformation from shy and indecisive to confidently playful.

I was definitely feeling ‘refreshed’ now, and from the light pulses and other random movements I was observing coming from Rog’s penis, I sensed he was too. I slid my hands down his chest and stomach to gently take his soft member in my fingers and begin massaging it. His grip on my breast became more assertive in response.

“So, where will you take me?” I asked, before lowering my lips to caress his neck.

Rog’s hand on my breast froze and I realized he had really not given it any thought. “Uh…” he said intelligently. Then he brightened and his hand went back to work exploring me. “How about the Tonga Room if you like dancing, or The Apricot if you don’t?” he asked.

“You like dancing?” I asked.

“Sure. It’s always fun,” he replied, as if mystified by people who did not.

This guy was getting better and better.

He was also, ahem, getting bigger.

My efforts were rapidly bearing some bountiful fruit. Rog’s penis had responded slowly at first, but then practically leapt to full attention in my grasp. I stroked him softly, up and down his length and murmured, “Speaking of fun, you were employing this lovely beast in most excellent fashion earlier, before you wandered off down a couple of side streets. Can I encourage you to get back on course?”