Chapter 2

THURSDAY, the 19^th of MARCH

At 2:30 the next afternoon, Jean walked into the main reading room. I was so happy to see her that I rushed out from behind the desk, and we embraced like long lost cousins. Donna, the head librarian, was in the room, so I stammered half way through an introduction before I realized that I had never learned Jean's last name. Worthington. Jean provided it herself, without batting an eye, then proceeded to compliment Donna on her dress, her hair, her library and her professionalism to the point that my boss was literally eating out of her hand (Donna is about 50 pounds overweight). By the time the litany was complete, Donna herself came up with the suggestion that I take all the time I'd like to show Jean around. Jean was quick to accept, telling her that I'd promised to help find some reference material for a Lady's Auxiliary presentation that was forthcoming, and arm-in-arm, we walked off into the stacks.

Now, this was the smallest of two small-town libraries, and so we didn't have very far that we COULD walk. But in the farthest corner of the building, behind the stacks, there is an employee break room, complete with couch and mini-refrigerator. I sensed Jean wanted to talk to me alone, so this was my destination. The first thing she did after closing the door was quiz me about possible interruptions, and I was quick to tell her that there was no earthly way that Donna, being the only other employee here today, could possibly leave the front desk unattended without closing the whole building. We had, I assured her, a good hour or two alone in this room. She smiled, nodded, and told me to take off my clothes.

I don't really know what shocked me more, the request, or the way my fingers started undoing the top button of my blouse before I questioned her about such a strange order. Even worse, she began taking off her own clothes. All my protestations were met with a pleasant smile and patient entreaties for me to hurry. I went as fast as I could, but I sort of played for time, as well, carefully folding my blouse and draping it over the arm of the sofa. I stopped totally for a moment, gawking, as she finished and stood before me like a sculpted work of art. Her body was perfect. Perfect. I would have given anything to have breasts like those; so well suited to the rest of her gorgeous frame.

"I'm not..." I protested, "I don't... I mean, with another woman... it's not what I..." I couldn't find the words to make her understand, and the fact that I also couldn't stop leering at her made the whole scene even more ludicrous.

Again, she told me to hurry, and I reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra. My ungainly breasts swung free, and I blushed crimson, stammering again that I didn't want to do this; but feeling that my protestations were foolish as well, since she had already finished. Finally, I stood before her, as nude as she, letting my arms dangle helplessly at my sides because I felt she wanted an unrestricted view. She was smiling again, broadly, and shaking her head slowly.

"God, I'd give anything to have breasts like those," she said.

I barked a laugh, which seemed to stretch into sort of a manic giggle, and told her about my most recent thoughts of her own assets. She laughed, as well, then shocked me back into silence as she picked up her over-sized purse, withdrew a black candle, fit it into a black holder, and placed it in the center of the room on the floor. She lit it with a lighter, which she returned to her purse, then sat facing the burning candle, her legs crossed, Indian-style, her back straight. She looked like a goddess.

She told me sit opposite her, and I tried as best I could to match her position and posture.

"I don't understand," I told her.

"Of course you don't, dear," she said simply. I'm sure I detected a note of concerned understanding, as well. That was some consolation.

She reached into her purse again and withdrew a very old leather-covered book, about the size of a modern paperback. She found a place, marked by a red ribbon, and spread the book open on her lap. Then, in a soft but firm voice, she began reading in Latin. I knew better than to interrupt, and was thankful, at least, that there were no reeking flowers involved. As she continued, though, pausing only to turn the pages, her voice seemed to be a living thing; wrapping itself around me, holding me, seeping through my skin and into every part of my body. Something was definitely happening to me. Something wonderful. Something overwhelming.

I don't think I fell asleep. Perhaps I fainted. All I know is that after some indeterminable amount of time, I opened my eyes to find myself lying flat on my back, stretched out on the carpeted floor, my arms at my sides. Jean was stretched out beside me on her left side, her head propped up by her left hand, her body so close to mine that I could feel her all along the length of me. I was acutely aware of her breasts pressing against my arm and shoulder. With long, manicured nails, the fingertips of her right hand were idly tracing little patterns across my throat, my breasts, my stomach, my pubis, my upper thighs. She was drinking me in with her eyes.

"Something happened to me," I told her.

"Yes," she whispered simply. There was a small catch in her voice, and I looked at her and for the first time saw the tears.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked with genuine concern.

"Oh, no," she said softly, with a little shivering sob. "You were perfect."

I lifted my arm and rolled a little toward her to better see her face. I was very, very aware that my nipples were touching hers. "Don't cry," I said quietly. "I couldn't bear it if you cried. I'd do anything for you!"

This only seemed to make matters worse. "I know you would," she cried softly. "You already have. You've done everything for me."

I couldn't take it any longer. I leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn't anything I'd ever consider doing under normal circumstances, but then, nothing seemed to be normal anymore. It was like kissing warm satin. I never could have imagined that another woman's lips would feel so soft. I'd never really WANTED to imagine it. Even now, all I really cared about was pleasing her, and I kissed her because I sensed it was what SHE wanted. But what I hadn't realized, of course, was the effect it would have on ME. We both shuddered, and the kiss seemed to go on a long, long time. When her lips parted, I parted mine as well, and as her tongue began flickering along my lips and teeth, I only then reacted by doing the same to her. Finally, we broke for air, panting and caressing and gazing into each other's eyes like a couple of love-struck teens.

Looking longingly at me with her dark, teary eyes, she reached up, pushing gently on my shoulder, and I let her ease me onto my back. "I need to do something for you," she murmured.

"You can do anything to me," I answered, honestly.

"That's the problem," she replied softly. "I've done so very much TO you already! Now I have to do something FOR you. Will you let me?"

I didn't say anything as she let her hand move over me gently, petting and squeezing and pinching first one breast, then the other. The hand drifted lower, urging my legs apart, as her mouth lowered to my exposed left nipple. I gasped, then tried to stifle the moan that followed. She stopped suckling and looked into my eyes again. "Don't hold back," she ordered softly. "Just let it happen, okay?" I nodded, too out of breath to answer, and arched my back as the mouth regained my nipple. She was rubbing rhythmically, up and down across my clit; up and down.