Reading Rapture
"Librarian Makeda has always been quiet and reserved. But when regular patron James discovers her secret romance novel collection, she decides to show him that still waters run very, very deep."
James came to the Reading library every Tuesday and Thursday. For the books, obviously. Definitely not for the librarian.
Makeda was Ethiopian-British, quiet, always in cardigans and long skirts that couldn't quite hide her thick figure. She had this way of looking over her glasses that made his stomach flip.
"Returning these, Mr. Clarke?"
"Yes, please."
Their fingers brushed as she took his books. Three years of this ritual, and he still couldn't work up the courage to say more.
Then he found the books.
Tucked behind the reference section, clearly hidden: a stack of romance novels. Not just any romance novels—the explicit kind. Handsome dukes ravishing chamber maids. Highlanders claiming their brides. The covers alone made James blush.
"Find something interesting?"
He spun. Makeda stood there, cheeks darkening.
"Those aren't meant to be in circulation," she said quietly.
"They're yours?"
She hesitated. Then: "The library closes in thirty minutes. Stay."
At 5 PM, she locked the front door and led him to a back office he'd never seen.
"You must think I'm strange," she said, not meeting his eyes. "A librarian with... those books."
"I think you're fascinating."
She looked up, surprised. "You do?"
"I've thought so for three years. Just never knew how to say it."
Something shifted in her expression. She removed her glasses, and suddenly she looked different. Younger. More confident.
"I read those books because I want what's in them. But I've never been brave enough to pursue it." She stepped closer. "Until maybe now."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I've watched you come in twice a week for three years. I've imagined things." Her hands went to her cardigan buttons. "Things from those books."
The cardigan fell. Her blouse was thin, showing the outline of a lace bra beneath.
"Tell me to stop and I will."
"Don't stop."
She smiled—shy but determined—and began unbuttoning her blouse.
"I should warn you. What's in those books... I want all of it. Everything."
James swallowed. "I'm a fast learner."
Her body was a revelation. Beneath the modest clothes hid curves that her romance heroes would write poems about. Full breasts in dark lace, a soft belly, thick hips that made him groan.
"I've been hiding," she admitted as he touched her. "Too shy to let anyone see the real me."
"Let me see. All of you."
She let her skirt fall. Let him lay her back on the office desk. Let him worship her body like she was a goddess from one of her novels.
"Oh God," she breathed as his mouth found her. "This is better than reading about it."
She was loud. Gloriously, surprisingly loud. Every moan and cry echoed through the empty library as James brought her to climax with his tongue.
"More," she demanded. "I need more."
He gave her more. She wrapped those thick legs around him and pulled him inside her, both of them gasping.
"Yes! Like that! Don't stop!"
He didn't stop. He took her on the desk, against the shelves, on the floor between rows of encyclopedias. Three years of tension released in a marathon of pleasure.
Later, they lay tangled on a bed of discarded cardigans and scattered papers.
"So," James said. "Same time Thursday?"
Makeda laughed, that rare sound he'd heard maybe twice before. "I think we can do better than that."
"Dinner first?"
"Dinner. Then this. Then maybe you come home with me and we work through the rest of my collection."
"You have more books?"
Her smile was wicked. "I have a whole library of ideas. Going to take a while to try them all."
They dated. Then moved in together. James became intimately familiar with her romance collection—not just reading them, but reenacting them.
"This one next," she'd say, holding up a particularly steamy cover. "The Scottish Highlander."
"Where am I going to find a kilt?"
"I already bought one. Your size."
The Reading library got a new head librarian when Makeda got promoted. But she kept her secret shelf, adding to it regularly.
"Research," she explained to James.
"Obviously," he agreed, already knowing he'd be trying out whatever she brought home next.
Still waters, he'd learned, ran very deep indeed.