Library Girl - Cover

Library Girl

by Bisamrattan

CC BY 4.0 Deed Attribution 4.0 International

Young Adult Sex Story: A story about a strange girl who works in a public library.

Caution: This Young Adult Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Workplace   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Slow   .

You could call me a dirty pervert, but I’m really into paper books, since I was a little boy. What’s the big deal about paper books, you’d say, everything’s digital and online now, and I’d say you don’t get it at all. Screens don’t give you that solid weight in your hands, that unique smell of old paper and typographic ink, that feeling of the pages against your fingers that have been turned by hundreds of people before you, leaving their fingerprints (and sometimes other things) on them, that crackling sound when you open an old volume, that resistance when you try to fold the corner of the page to mark where you stopped (yes, I know librarians hate it when we readers do that) ... And most of all, the smell. Nothing in the world smells better than big rooms full of old books.

That’s why the first thing I did after moving to this city ... well, the second thing, the first thing was renting the apartment ... the second thing was finding the Central Library and signing in.

The building was big and old, over three centuries old, and it had always been the library. It had been repaired and expanded many times, and like the ship of Theseus, it was still the same library.

I was filling out the registration form at the checkout - no cheap electronic fake, real old yellowish paper, and they even offered an ink pen if you wanted it, they totally won my heart and soul with that - when I caught a glimpse of bare skin out of the corner of my eye. I glanced to the side and froze, my mouth hanging open.

There was a slender, completely naked girl, walking noiselessly barefoot, carrying a neat stack of books that reached from her hips to her chin, pressed against her small, firm breasts, and the light from the reading lamps reflected off her delicate, almost transparent skin. Her long hair, of an unusually light, almost grayish white color, reached down to her beautiful buttocks and was tied back with a few leather straps. Paying no attention to us, she walked along the rows of tables and disappeared behind the storage door.

The librarian on desk duty caught my stare and chuckled softly.

“Meet Lila, our depository keeper. And welcome to the club. Everyone’s first reaction to her is like that.”

I made a heroic effort to complete my form without making any mistakes and handed it back to her.

“Wha ... Why ... Who is that?”

She rested her chin on her hands and told the story I assumed every new library member was told.

“You’ve probably heard of those autistic savants, haven’t you? Well, Lila is one of them. She registered with our library as soon as she learned to read - which was about four years old - and has spent almost all of her time in our reading rooms ever since. She is incredibly intelligent and remembers everything she reads.”

She pointed to the storage door.

“All those books over there, thousands and thousands of volumes - Lila knows them all by heart. Cover to cover. Titles, contents, text, illustrations, sources, footnotes. Everything. I’m sure she has our entire index in her head, and not just the titles, but the position of each book on its shelf.

“When she was in middle school, she came to our director and said she wanted to work here. We were happy to take her on as an apprentice. When it came time for the kids to start the summer jobs, we hired her part-time, and she became full-time as soon as she graduated. She’ll probably be here her whole life. She’s our most valuable asset.”

“I could tell...” I muttered. “But ... why...”

“As is often the case with the autistic spectrum, she’s also a highly sensitive person. She can’t stand large crowds, loud noises and bright lights. The library is really the perfect place for her. And also,” the librarian smiled, “she is irritated by almost any fabric that touches her skin. She wears loose clothes outside, she’s socially adjusted enough ... but she takes everything off whenever she can. We see no problem with that, as she never works at the reception, her domain is our depository, where people rarely go”.

The librarian gave me a key card and showed me around, pointing out the rules and regulations.

“Our index room is to the left. The most popular books are in the reading rooms, and if you need anything special, just ask Lila, she’s always happy to help.”


I thanked her and dug into the index. I was really looking for something special. In my love of books, call it perverse or not, I often searched not just for a particular title, but for a particular edition and print, for particular errata, typefaces, and illustration versions. Well, if you just want the plain text, you can always resort to soulless digitals, but with real books, every little detail is precious.

And of course, the book I was looking for today - William Burroughs’ “The Soft Machine”, second edition - was not in the reading rooms, so I called Lila.

“The Soft Machine, second edition? Yes, no problem. Follow me, please,” she said in a soft voice and led me to the depository.

As I said, the library building was old and big, and most of it was the depository, with all its corridors, stairs, and countless rooms with independent microclimate control. The smell of old books was everywhere, and I revelled in it, as one might revel in the bouquet of an expensive wine.

I was lost after the second turn, but Lila confidently led the way, her pale bare feet making no sound, turning through corridors and up and down stairs, leading me deeper and deeper into this book labyrinth, and I felt like I was in a fairy tale, in the land of books, led by a naked Snow White. And by the way, the sight of her slender figure from behind was a delight in itself.

 
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