“So you got my text?” I so would have loved to see your face when your cell vibrated and your beautiful eyes fell upon the content. ‘Central Library. 9pm.’ I can only imagine the inquisitive raise of your eyebrow. I mean if it had been against any other name it would be a dead cert for a wrong number. But the thing is it was not a random number or name that flickered upon your cell screen. Innocuous to any prying innocent’s eye, we both know ‘Sally’ was not really an old school friend, however much you found yourself revelling over all old times. Although if she were real then maybe we should invite her to the party one time. Now that is a naughty thought, imagining you cavorting with another woman, me sandwiched between the pair of you! I can only wonder what you must have thought. A pang of intrigue, no doubt, as usually the messages are a little more obvious – don’t you agree? Something I think we both can profess to, fond memories of many playful requests and demands. But the library, I bet that has you guessing; it’s hardly a restaurant or the hotel suite. I pondered delaying the second message, if only to let the intrigue settle. When I sent it I had no doubt that this time it was greeted with a curl of those delicious lips of yours. ‘Black dress. Stockings. Heels.’ Now there was no way that was any ‘Sally’! There was only one person you dressed for these days. Only one person who took pleasure in dressing you, savouring you. And always the only one who you adored undressing you, be it with with his eyes, his hands or simply his teeth. I imagine the mere thought made your cheeks flush and caused a tingle down your spine. I can just see that broad smile on your face, the seeds of something naughty suggestively planted in your mind. But then when has ‘Sally’ not offered a suggestive hint? But I bet the library reference still didn’t stack-up. Did you even know the library opened that late tonight? rus escort Neither had I, but when I found that it did I just couldn’t resist. I know you enjoy our playful games, and I bet you questioned what I have in store for somewhere so quiet and reserved. For we both know quiet is not a word we would use when it comes to us, far from it. Our needs and desires often played out to an orchestra of hot, needy, wanton lust. I knew it would be eating you up from the moment you received those texts, and I knew it would till the moment you laid eyes upon me. I won’t have to say a thing as you’ll be able to read my eyes, my look, my need. I heard you before I saw you. A vantage point on the upper floor, partially hidden amongst the rows of historical literature. I knew your heels would echo around the old library, each step loud enough for unsuspecting eyes to glance from their papers and books. I knew you would capture the attention of the few that frequent a library at this time. A little late night titillation based on the wandering eyes as you saunter in dressed in such a way. I couldn’t help but smile at the scowl the librarian gave you when I hit send on the next message. I could already see the disgust in her eyes, you dressed up as if you were going for a meal or a night at the casino or club. That little black dress that you know I so adore, the one that compliments your figure so well and if the moment is right teases the eye with the glimpse of your stocking tops that cling to your heavenly thighs. I could see the gloss of your lips even from here, and the soft curls of your hair that frame your beautiful face. My vantage point gave me a heavenly view of the plunging neckline, exposing the top of your cleavage. I could tell you had spent time pampering yourself, making yourself so deliciously edible that no man could ever resist. The buzz of your yenimahalle escort cell met with a growl from the librarian, your humble apology just loud enough for me to hear. I watch as you flick open your cell, followed by your glance around the library until your eyes fell upon the location. Once more the echo of your every step against the granite floor, resonating through the old library. Artificial light fills the central concourse, slowly disappearing into murkier darkness amongst endless rows of tightly packed bookshelves, the neon lighting giving way to fractured moonlight that filtered through the window blinds. I watch as you reach the stairs, taking the hand rail in your palm as you gingerly begin to climb the steps in your heels. I watch intently as your eyes search the end of the aisles, seeking the reference that illuminated your cell moments early. Moments later I have to step back further into the dark corners. I watch you find the aisle and then slip down the narrow space, encased in books of all sizes and ages, the clink of your heels no more as you step from the granite flooring onto carpet. Your hand lightly trails the book spines, mouthing quietly the reference that now burns vividly in your mind. I can only imagine the thoughts flowing through your mind, the sequence of events that brings you here this night. I see your eyes darting around and imagine your heart thundering, my eyes glued to you, spellbound as I have been from day one. As I will always be. And then you find it. I only just got out of sight as you look in either direction before reaching for the shelf. I couldn’t see your face, and again can only imagine the smile upon your glossed lips as you pull the leather bound, tattered book from the shelf. You look once more in either direction, the stillness of the quiet library providing no hint or suggestion of what lay next. It was as though you wanted to call my name out, yet dared not if only for the wrath of librarian below. You turn once more and continue down the remainder of the aisle into the murky darkness, book held close to your heart as though treasuring it for all it’s worth. And then you feel me. As you turn at the end of the aisle, the sudden touch of my hand. Firm and forceful. You gasp, feeling the firmness, yet instantly know it is me as I push you face first up against the bookshelf end. Facing away from me, my strong hands firmly find the dip of your waist. My touch always so assured, so confident. The book slips from your clasp with a thud as you feel the weight of my body pinning you against the wooden aisle end. In the silence the noise seems so loud, and my heart thunders against my chest as I hold you tight, my hands still, the thud of the book still resonating in my ears. Waiting, wondering if down below the librarian was on her way. Senses heightened, I listen intently, hearing our every breath as we wait nervously. No sounds, no footsteps, silence maintains. My hold on you relinquishes just a little. You purr at my forceful actions and I can sense the heat of my breath upon your exposed shoulders. I inhale, and savour the scent of your fragrance that I knew so well as my hands caress the curves of your body through the soft fabric of your dress. “Baby,” you murmur, as one hand slips north, ruffling your dress under my touch, fingers finding and following the curve of your bosom, palm soon cupping and caressing your aching breast through your clothes. “Ssshhh,” I whisper, as I bring my mouth down beneath your soft hair, attentive lips sensually nibbling and nuzzling at your creamy neck. Instantly I feel you push back against me, our bodies firmly moulding as one as your hands reaches up and finds my hair. Fingertips ruffle as you bite your bottom lip with a stifled whimper. My other hand slips from the dip of your waist over the rise of your hips and back down, fingers expertly finding and hooking the hem of your dress. You arch your neck to one side, allowing my hungry lips to devour, raining butterfly kisses upon your delicate skin.