I had not been the best student in High School, barely maintaining a passing grade as I spent all my time on parties and making the football team. I had some major disadvantages though. I was shorter than everyone else on the team, yet still, I did make it.
When I graduated, I stood only five foot five, five to six inches shorter than most of my class, but I weighed a very solid, very respectable hundred and seventy pounds. The following fall I began school at the local community college, four hours every morning. I was determined to improve my chances for getting into one of the better universities. Afternoons and evenings I spent working in the city library, a huge old four story stone monolith that covered an entire city block.
Mostly, I was a gopher, janitor, organizer as each day I was expected to fetch and carry, when asked, to keep the second floor lobby and reading areas clean, and to scan one book section daily seeking any books or volumes that were out of place. Then moving them to where they belonged. What this normally meant for me was spending most of my days in and out of the microfilm and old magazine issue stacks on the third floor, filling customer requests and delivering them to the desk on the second floor.
Occasionally I would have to search through the non-display books on the third floor for a title that was still in inventory, but no longer maintained on the public racks below. In between, I dusted tables and chairs, swept floors and scanned the day's chosen section for mis-filed titles. I also tried to put in an hour or two on the third floor each day dusting and cleaning. The other part-timers seldom went there, except to the microfilm and rag rooms (as we called the room containing old magazines and newspapers waiting for microfilming). When I first began working I found over half an inch of dust covering most everything on the third floor.
The first two floors were public access and we all worked very hard keeping things in order and presentable there. The first floor was mostly staff offices, children's books, video and audio storage and booths. There were two mass reading rooms as well for local volunteers to use in reading books to groups of small children and those with handicaps who found reading for themselves difficult. Once a week I found myself reading to either a group of pre-schoolers or to the small group of blind people who gathered on Wednesday afternoons - I was pretty good with the children, but not very good with the older blind people. I simply couldn't build any enthusiasm for their normally high brow selections. The third floor was staff only access and storage, as I've already said. The fourth floor was private and I've only been up there once, during my initial orientation.
Though seldom used by anyone, it was the only floor with its own private cleaning crew and requiring a key for access. It contained only thirty or so volumes, really old and fragile things that took special storage and handling to preserve them. All access was by appointment only and then, only in the company of the head librarian.
It had been very slow for the previous couple of weeks and really dead that day, but that was understandable. It was a Friday and only two days until the new year began. There were four of us working and I was really supposed to have left a couple of hours before. I could use the extra money in my pay check though and had volunteered to stay over for a bit. Get more cleaning done on the third floor. It had taken almost three months, working in what small snatches of time I could, but everything was almost entirely cleaned. I had been keeping it that way by revisiting a previously cleaned section often for vacuuming and dusting. There was only one small section still needing cleaning so I thought I might quit for the day. I would finally finish it all next week and could hardly wait to show the head librarian when it was all done.
I decided to make one more dusting visit to the second floor reading area and put away any volumes not yet returned to the racks before calling it a night. That's when I saw her.
I glanced around the room as I stepped from the third floor stairway and saw her sitting at one of the corner reading tables. She was out of sight from most of the room, hidden from the librarian at her desk near the front stairs. I watched her for a moment as she continued her reading. What had attracted my attention was her flushed face and movement under the tight sweater she wore. Looking closer I saw that one arm was mostly hidden by the desk and book she was reading, deciding that the movement I saw was her own hand beneath her sweater. She was playing with her own breast. Her eyes were glued to a book before her, studying it through partly lidded eyes. I stood and watched as her other hand came in view and turned a page... a much smaller and glossier page than that which belonged to the volume before her. She had a magazine of some kind secreted in the open book before her. I wanted to see more.
The stair to the third floor was blocked by a velvet rope barricade and I was still holding one end in my hand as I stood there. Quickly hooking it in place I stepped behind a shelf of books, the shelf blocking any chance of being seen by the girl. Working my way towards the front of the section I paused just before I would be in view of the floor librarian at her desk, but I needn't have worried. She was turned away and talking on the phone - a graduate student, she spent a lot of time talking to her boyfriend on the phone while she worked.
I crossed the reading room floor and stepped into the shelves on the far side of the room. By working down the back wall I could come up behind the girl in her little nook. But first I wanted a better view of what she was doing and reading. I turned back up an aisle two shelves from where she was sitting and stopped when I judged I was even with her. Bending down I found that I had stepped a little past her and I backed up slowly until I could see better.
I thought she looked about sixteen or seventeen, from one of the local high schools according to the letter on and the colors of her sweater. She had long rich brown hair that fell across her shoulders, the ends on the front of her sweater lay across the slope of her breast and ended with a soft curl towards her neck and chin. She had once had bangs, but they were growing out and now the tips of the nearer hairs lay gently against her cheek bones as she looked into the book before her. The book itself, the large hardbound volume, was propped against a few others on the table, holding it at an angle. I still couldn't see what she was reading, though I could easily see the movement of her hand beneath her sweater as she kneaded her breast. The back of her hand would occasionally come into view at the deep V of her Letter sweater as she moved it.
Bending further, I looked through the next shelves to get a lower view, beneath the table. Her skirt was a loose, mid-thigh gray affair that was mostly bunched up into her lap. The back of the skirt hung over the back of the padded vinyl seat and her panties were lowered to her knees, stretched taut as she spread her legs to allow access for her other hand. As I watched, she removed this hand and raised it above the table, the two middle fingers slick and glossy looking to the second knuckle. I quickly moved to follow her actions as she reached into he book before her and turned the magazine page. I caught a quick look at pictures of two people fucking when she did so, and her hand quickly dropped below table level again.
Moving once more to the back wall I came out of the shelves behind her and moved silently to the back of her chair. Reaching around her I covered her mouth quickly with one hand, to prevent her crying out, and slid my other hand inside of her sweater and onto the breast she wasn't currently paying attention to.
She froze for a moment in surprise, then there was a small tussle as she tried to struggle against me. She didn't have the strength and realizing this she subsided as I fondled and squeezed, using my fingernails to nip at her tit. When she'd quit struggling I relaxed bit and leaned down to kiss at her neck and earlobe finally taking it in my mouth and sucking on it. I took a chance then, releasing her mouth and sliding that hand too inside her sweater, pushing her frozen hand away from the other breast as I began manipulating it too. I caught her distended nipple between thumb and forefinger as I gently pinched and pulled on it feeling it seem to pulse gently as I did so. When I had stepped up behind her, her breathing was rapid, coming in short puffs and pants as she tended to her needs. It was quickly returning to that state once more. She didn't try to turn or look at me, but kept her attention focused on the magazine page before her as I worked on her.
She pulled her hand from under her sweater and reached forward to turn the page, the current page showed a man and woman in a kitchen - she was trying to prepare a meal while he loosened her clothing and fondled her body. Each of the four pictures on the pages showed a little more of her body and of his hands at play. The new pages showed four pictures of the same woman bent over the kitchen table, her blouse was open and her skirt was hiked up over her back as the man entered her from behind, then reached around to fondle her hanging breasts as he fucked her.
The girl under my hands reached back with her hand, pressing through her sweater against mine, stopping them. Her other hand rose up from beneath the table and she used it to indicate the pictures before her - was she asking what I thought she was?
.... There is more of this story ...