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When Jane Porter was five years old and her father asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she replied that she would like a larger bookshelf, because she had too many books for her current one. Her father laughed, and on Christmas morning he took her into what had been the spare room, to reveal that it had been all but lined with bookcases. He promised her that by her eighteenth birthday, every one of them would be full.
On her eighteenth birthday, he had provided her with one final book - the full works of William Shakespeare, bound and gilded - that had slid into place fo fill the last space on the last bookshelf. And it was better than any of the presents she had ever seen her friends receive.
True, some of the other people on her university course thought her strange. Strange, with her love of books, and her exceptional grades, and her preference to study at the library late into the night rather than go out partying in the local clubs. But there were plenty enough people with whom she was friends and with whom she could spend her time, even if she spent her weekends at her father's house and always lamented that there was not enough room in the house that she shared for there to be half as many books as she desired.
In her second year, she found a way around the lack of books: she could only borrow ten from the library at any one time, of course, but once in the library she could have as many as she pleased.
Of course, that the number rose from ten to fifteen once she began working at the library did rather help.
And frankly, in the murmuring quiet of the lowest floor of the library on a warm, relaxed Monday night, Jane could not really think of anywhere in the world that could be better. A trolley of books ready for reshelving, an area which she had not visited in a few months - which meant that there should be new books that had now arrived - and calm. A perfect evening.
"So... do you work here?"
Jane was startled from her reverie - and almost shaken from her perch on the stepladder - by the voice that interrupted her. She spun, clutching her current book to her chest, to face the unexpected intruder. Well, not intruder; the library was hardly hers alone, after all. She just tended to think of it that way.
"Er, well, yes," she replied, and internally winced. Climbing gently down from the stepladder, Jane put the book she had been holding back down onto the trolley. "I'm Jane. Can I help?"
"Mm," the girl said, sashaying closer. She was wearing jeans so tight that for a moment Jane could not suppress the feeling of wonder as to how she got into them. Which only made her blush harder. "Chel. I'm a little being on my reading for a module... wondered if you could help."
"Well, let's have a look at the outline," said Jane brightly. Chel stood right next to her, hip to hip, and Jane was struck by a wave of subtle perfume that made her feel slightly weak at the knees. The module outline was produced, and she remembered what she was supposed to be thinking about, which was the book list that Chel was now showing her.
Not the way that Chel's breasts seemed to be pressing against her arm through the thin fabric of her very low-cut top.
"Sexuality and Intimacy," she read aloud from the front of the handout, and only a moment later realised what she'd said. Jane glanced, incredibly briefly, sideways, and saw that Chel is watching her with expectant eyes and parted lips. "You're an anthropology student then?"
"Sociology, actually," Chel replied. She had a faint, unplaceable accent, and she was leaning close enough for her breath to brush against Jane's neck. Her earrings jingled softly. "I just like studying outside the discipline."
Considering that they were a little over half way through the semester, Jane was surprised to see that the outline was untouched. She usually spent her first week annotating everything that the lecturers gave them, making reading lists and generally organising herself. But then a hand brushed brushed very slightly against her back; she almost jumped, but then the touch was gone and Chel was resting one hand on the trolley beside them.
"Have you done some more... general reading?"
"Oh yes," said Chel softly. "I know quite a bit about sexuality."
The emphasis was so subtle that she might not have caught it. Chel leant over, reaching across to turn a few pages of the outline. Her hand nudged Jane's towards one of the pages.
"It's just that I've got a seminar coming up, you see. I just wanted to read a bit more... in depth."
She shifted her weight closer, thigh brushing against thigh, until Jane could feel the breasts that rose and fell with each breath against her arm.
Chel reached up and slowly licked her finger, the tip sliding down over her tongue and out across her full, reddish lips. Her nail dragged at her lip for just a moment, and then she reached across Jane once again to turn the page one last time.
At least, Jane thought that she did. She wasn't really watching the module outline any more.
"W-what is the seminar about?" she managed to stammer, feeling her hands shake. It felt as if they weren't the only thing quivering.
Jane Porter could sit and watch football matches without batting an eyelid, could watch men strutting about onscreen in ways that her housemate Anita called 'totally slashy', and responded to Milo forgetting his shirt in his excitement at coming up with an essay idea by telling him to put some clothes on or he'd catch cold (though to be fair, Belle and Anita had both agreed that it was probably for the best that someone had told him that).
Then Chel brushed one hand across the waistband of her skirt, and Jane thought that she was going to fall over.
"I-I'd be surprised if there isn't a reading list online, in-"
She broke off, drawing in her breath, as Chel very delicately ran her tongue over the curve of her ear.
"I've been in here for several weeks, you know," said Chel, barely above a whisper, her accent rolling the words gently around her tongue. "I'm guessing that you didn't notice me."
Jane honestly couldn't manage a word. Chel's teeth grazed over her ear, and her hand slid back to Jane's waistband again, this time just sliding beneath. Her nails were rounded, just proud of her fingertips, and then the hand slid across her skin as soft as flowing water. The paper in her hands trembled as Chel started to trace patterns on the side of Jane's neck with her tongue, and Jane felt as if she was losing the ability to breathe.
"To be fair, I'm not one for libraries." She paused to suck on Jane's skin, even as her fingers brushed lower, ghosting over the fabric of Jane's panties. "I prefer... practicals."
The hand that had been on the trolley shifted round to the small of Jane's back, rubbing small circles, as Chel's lips and tongue continued to move against her neck. A small noise escaped her, something a little more than a gasp, only for Chel to pause and hush her very gently, with a playful whisper of, "This is a library, after all."
With that, Chel slid her hand down inside Jane's panties, and Jane bit her lip to keep quiet. Her fingers traced circles, slow and insistent, around Jane's clit, as she pressed herself against Jane's side. Chel all but straddled Jane's hip, grinding into her, the fabric of her jeans rough and warm against Jane's bare calves. An arm snaked round her wrist, pulling them close together, as Chel nuzzled into her shoulder.
She gripped hold of the shelves behind her as the movements of Chel's fingers became more insistent, suppressing another sound deep in her throat. It was occuring to her that she had seen the other girl before, the occasional glimpse, but had not properly taken in what she was seeing. Perhaps if she had, she would have had something to fuel her mind when her hands slipped beneath the covers at night.
The seam of Chel's jeans pressed insistently against her, their legs hooking together as Chel sucked hard on Jane's collarbone. A single sharp gasp escaped her lips, as Chel's fingers moved to just there, and then Jane turned her head to finally claim a kiss.
It was sloppy, uncertain, both of them already breathless, as Jane coiled her hands in Chel's thick hair and clung to her tightly. "How long," Jane whispered, "were you thinking of this?"
"Too long," Chel replied, and with a hitch of her breath slid her fingers inside Jane, cool against the heat that was building in her, flexing and releasing slightly with each thrust as the heel of her hand rubbed still against Jane's clit. "Far too long."
The feel, oh lord, the fullness of the fingers inside her and the heat of Chel's breath on her face, the taste of her mouth. Jane was no virgin, had not been since a fumbling night aged seventeen that probably could have ended better for both of them involved, but this was far better than she remembered with Chel's hand cupping her, fingers filling her, Chel's own groin rubbing, hard and harsh where her skirt was riding up, against her. "Oh, oh my," she said softly, and was quite sure that she felt as much as heard Chel laughing as her thrusts increased in tempo and Jane's own hips began to move with them, echoing the movements and sending tremors down her spine.
"When I first saw you," Chel whispered, and Jane realised that it was against her ear now because her head had fallen back and her eyes were closing of their own volition, "you were wearing this skirt and you climbed one of the high ladders. You should be more careful when you do that." Another slow drag of Chel's tongue against her ear, then a flick of the small gold stud in the lobe. "I was more expecting white than red, though."
She couldn't remember what colour underwear she was wearing now, could barely remember how to breathe. She knew, though, that they were wet, that even as she bit her lip harder to stay silent and Chel whispered something filthy in her ear the world seemed to be crumbling around her. Her blood rushed and pounded together in her ears, she felt herself quaking as fireworks went off behind her eyes, and as she tumbled from euphoria Chel was still there, arm wrapped around her to support her, the other hand gently stroking her.
Jane took in a shaking breath, and turned her eyes to Chel. She should have expected the smirk. "Got any more suggestions, Jane?" she said, and the way that the name sounded on her lips made Jane's knees go weak all over again.
"I think that you've got everything quite under control," Jane managed, and Chel gave a low laugh and kissed her again, this time slow and sensuous, hand slipping out from beneath Jane's skirt to cup her rear.
"A little more revision might be in order though."
Chel's fingers brushed against her lips gently; Jane removed her hand from the bookcase and reached up to pat her hair, which had fallen very much loose of its bun and half trailed over her shoulders. A smile quirked Chel's lips at the sight of the gesture.
"You know," Chel added, "not all work has to be done at the library. Do you have a pen?"
"Pen? Pen, yes," as if she had forgotten how nouns worked, Jane fumbled for the biro on the trolley with her left hand, proffering it up without even breaking eye contact with Chel. Chel grinned again, withdrawing her arms from Jane and moving to stand in front of her, then slowly slid down until she was kneeling at Jane's feet. A fresh wave of heat rushed over Jane, and she was quite sure that half of it went straight to her cheeks, as Chel pushed her skirt up her thigh and started to write on her skin.
She completed the phone number, finished it with an 'x', and then kissed over the spot slowly enough to make Jane's eyes flutter. On the way to standing again, her face never moved more than six inches away from Jane's skin, until they were eye-to-eye once again.
Chel winked. "Call me if you think of any more books I should study," she said, then with a wave and another sway of those wonderful hips, she turned to leave, Jane’s eyes following her all the way.
It was only once she was round the corner that Jane realised she had left her module outline behind.
Well, that would have to be returned. Couldn’t have Chel missing any of her course, after all.