Library Girl, Part 1

The end of my final year at university was approaching. Exams loomed, and I was woefully underprepared. Lately, I’d spent every daylight hour in the library, then studied late into the evening. It was exhausting.

I’d fallen into a routine. I’d walk to the library each day to arrive as it opened, sit down in the same seat, spread out my notes, and work through them. I’d started to notice other students with similar habits. There was Steve the biologist, who lugged an ancient laptop everywhere he went. Clare was reading English Literature on a slim tablet and taking notes in an elegant script with a high-end fountain pen. She was dating a bloke with a sports scholarship of some sort.

And then there was the one I knew only as Library Girl. I think she was studying Physics, judging by her books. But she also read texts on law, photography, and medieval French poetry. I didn’t know her name even though she always sat diagonally opposite me at the same group of desks.

This morning I was running late. I got to the library ten minutes after it had opened, and there was Library Girl sitting in my spot. I stumbled to a halt, unsure what to do, but I could hardly ask her to move. It wasn’t my spot, after all, just a seat in a public library. It wasn’t even busy today. The library had a strange holiday vibe, as if everyone was off doing something more fun, and there were plenty of empty seats. I shook myself and took the chair opposite Library Girl, setting out my notes and tablet ready to get some work done.

But something was different about her today, and it wasn’t just the seat she’d chosen. I stared across the desk, pen still capped, trying to work out what it was. She hadn’t changed her dark, shoulder-length hair, or her makeup, which was as beguiling as ever. She was wearing a low-cut top that exposed a lot of cleavage even though her breasts weren’t over-large, but that was nothing new. I couldn’t work it out, and even though I tried to concentrate on my notes, my gaze kept returning to her.

After the third or fourth time she’d looked up and caught me staring, she muttered something I couldn’t catch.

Before I could think of something to say, she pulled her top up to expose her breasts. Then she went back to whatever she’d been reading, apparently oblivious to her near nudity.

Now, I’ve had my fair share of sexual encounters, but this situation was a new one. Should I avert my gaze? Protect her modesty? Summon a librarian?

She seemed totally relaxed. She wasn’t looking at me, so I dropped my eyes to her chest. Her breasts were gorgeous. Rounded, well-sized, no hint of tan lines, and perky nipples that almost begged to be touched. I cleared my throat.

“Very nice,” I managed to croak. I coughed. “But maybe this isn’t the place?”

Without looking at me or even acknowledging that I’d spoken, she pulled her top down, jiggled her chest into place, and went back to work. I dipped my head and focused on my notes, bemused by the entire episode.

But now even the scratching of Library Girl’s pen was distracting, and all I could think about was the way her naked bosom rose and fell as she breathed, and what it might be like to touch her nipples. By dint of extreme effort, I managed to focus again on my notes, but after twenty minutes reading the same page I was about ready to give up. Maybe tomorrow would be better for studying.

“You want a coffee?” Library Girl was staring at me. I must have looked stupidly blank because she raised her eyebrows. “Hello? Coffee?” She had what I’d call a ‘posh’ accent, like you’d hear in a private school. Very neat vowels. Strange what you notice at times like this.

“Er, yes, sure,” I said. Not the most eloquent response. “I’d love a coffee.”

“Come on, then,” she said, packing away her things. “It’s not like either of us is getting anything done this morning, and I could do with a change.” She pushed back her chair and stood, stretching a little from side to side. She was wearing a tight black jeans and the familiar black boots.

“Right, sure, yes.” I hurried to stuff my notes back into my bag and stood.

“Phone?” she said, nodding at the table. My phone sat where I’d left it, forgotten amidst the excitement of coffee. I stuffed it in my pocket.

“Where do you want to go? My treat,” I said.

“Ok,” she said with a half-smile, as if the concept of ‘treat’ was a new one.

I followed her out of the library and into the maze of tiny streets that made up the old town. I loved exploring the shops that filled these narrow alleys, but I wasn’t sure where Library Girl was taking me till she stopped at a little place called “The Overflowing Cup”.

“I’m Andy, by the way,” I said, holding out my hand. She turned, poised ready to open the cafe’s door, and shook my hand.

“Jennifer, but my friends call me Jen.”

She was clearly a regular. The barista waved as we went in and began making a coffee without waiting for an order. I took a plain black filter coffee, Jen grabbed a couple of croissants, and we made our way to a secluded table in the back.

“There you go,” said the barista as he delivered Jen’s drink.

“This is really good,” I said around a mouthful of pastry.

“We need to talk about your breast obsession,” she said suddenly. I almost spat my croissant across the table. “You can’t go around staring at women’s chests like that. It’s creepy.”

“You’re right, yes. I’m sorry, I was trying to work out what had changed,” I said, waving my hand at my face. “You looked different this morning. And now that I say that, it sounds like I’ve been stalking you. Which I totally haven’t,” I added quickly. “You sat in a different place, I was a bit thrown…” I stumbled to a halt in the face of her raised eyebrow. She didn’t look impressed.

“What I’m trying to say,” I said, putting down my croissant to - I hoped - give emphasis to my words, “is that I don’t normally stare, I was, er, just staring because…” It sounded pathetic, even to me. The sentence died and the silence stretched as we drank our coffee.

I gulped my down, finished my pastry, and looked at the door. Maybe it was time to make a quick escape before this could get any more awkward.

“You’re leaving?” said Jen.

“I think I’ve done enough damage for one day. This has been, er, lovely, but I should get going.”

“That’s a pity.” I froze, half out of my seat. “It’s taken you weeks to notice me, and now you’re rushing away before we have time to get to know each other.”

I sank back into the chair, utterly confused. “But you never even look at me!” I protested. Her eyebrows shot up. “Do you?”

“I see you all the time. You fill my dreams, my fantasies,” said Jen, lowering her voice. “Do you think I show my tits to random strangers? I’ve been trying to attract your attention for weeks but—” she glanced down as if girding herself for an admission “—but I’m not as confident as I seem.”

I was floored. My mouth opened and closed but the words failed me. The idea that she might have staged this morning’s encounter blew my mind.

“So all this—“ I mimed raising my top to expose my chest “—was you not being confident?” The suggestion seemed ludicrous, but Jen nodded. “That seems… implausible.”

“Talking is difficult. Introductions…” she shuddered. “This—“ and she pulled up her top again “—is a comparatively easy bio-mechanical action that anyone can do at anytime. It’s not a challenge, it’s just flesh.” Her breasts were no less impressive the second time around, but I was better prepared for the surprise. She replaced her top. “And it works really well as a conversation starter.”

“It does? Well, yes, I suppose it breaks the ice. But look, I feel like I’m ahead of the game, somehow,” I said with what I hoped was a wicked grin. “That’s twice I’ve got to see your - frankly magnificent - breasts, and you haven’t seen so much as a bicep from me.”

She grinned, a full-on lascivious smile that sent tingles down my spine. “I’ve undressed you in my mind. I imagine you have an athlete’s physique, toned muscles, and a cock that would make a horse blush.”

I coughed, and my cheeks flushed again. Jen laughed.

“I like to think it’s above average size and that I know what to do with it, but I couldn’t claim to be quite that big,” I said modestly.

“I think I need to be the judge of that,” said Jen. “Men, after all, seldom report their attributes accurately.”

“Seems fair. Er, shall we…?” I gestured to the door.

“Leave? When we’re having such fun? Just give me a quick glimpse.” She licked her lips in anticipation.

“Here?” I looked around the cafe. We were in a dark corner away from the door and prying eyes, but it was still a bit public for my taste.

“Here. Now,” she said.

And she thought this was easy! I shifted my bag to the other side of the bench to better block prying eyes. Jen rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward to get a clear view of my crotch. I blew out a long breath. I wasn’t sure about the venue, but my cock was stiffening at the thought of exposing myself to Jen. Not that this was something I’d ever done before, you understand. But when a beautiful woman begs, it’s hard to deny her request.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m so sure,” she said with a nod. “I really want to see it.”

There was nothing more to say. I slid forward on the bench, parted my legs a little, and unzipped my jeans. Jen grinned and drew a little closer. I flicked open my belt and undid the button. I could feel my cock straining against my underwear, its tip poking up under my t-shirt. I took one last glance around, then pulled my boxers down.

“Oh, wow,” said Jen. She stretched out her hand to flick my t-shirt aside, exposing the full length of my shaft. “That’s better than I’d imagined.” She reached down and dragged a finger up the side of my cock, and all I could think about was how it would feel to have her hand wrapped around me, to have her wank me. It was a struggle to sit still.

Jen sat back. “Can’t believe you did that,” she said as I restored my clothing, “but thanks.”

“I think that puts me behind again,” I said. I flicked my eyes down to her crotch. “There’s only one way to level the score.”

“You want me to show you my pussy?”

“Fair’s fair,” I said, as if somehow this was just a casual, everyday conversation.

“Are you mad? Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you can get into by exposing your genitals in public?”

“Wait, what? Now you’re worried about exposure?” I asked. “What about…?” I gestured at my crotch.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it! I only said it to see what you’d do. There’s no way I’m risking it!”

I frowned, not at all pleased. She laughed.

“Don’t worry, your flashing secret’s safe with me.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said grumpily. This was not turning out the way I’d hoped.

“Ah, don’t be like that. Come on, look on the bright side. I showed you my tits, you’ve shown me your cock, and neither of us has been displeased by what we’ve seen, right?” I nodded. “Great. In which case, I’d like to propose we go somewhere more private, like my place, and unpack the rest of the package.”

“Your place?” I said suspiciously, hardly daring to believe my luck.

“It’s upstairs, top floor,” she said, pointing to the ceiling. “I might not be able to start conversations, but I have no trouble when it comes to talking about fucking.” She grabbed her stuff and stood up. “Well? You coming, or do you plan to wait around here for a better offer?”

I shook my head and followed. “Carpe diem,” I muttered as we left. “Carpe diem.”